Above the Fray

Montreal: Parc des Rapides, Lachine: St-Jean-Baptiste Day. I am nestled precariously amidst the tumble of rocks beside the rapids; the sound of hurried water against stoic stone filling my ears, lulling me with its unrelenting, aggressive rumble. I want to nap, but not on a rock. I want to string a hammock up between the trees like back in Thailand or Laos, next to the Mekong; or like in Indonesia, next to the ocean. Back then. When time had no meaning; when there was no outside world – only the world I experienced every day.

Happy blue-and-white day.

Blue and white: like the flags and the houses of Greece; like my white skin against the icy turquoise waters of the lagoons in Laos; like the white clouds against the cobalt sky against the white sands of Gili Air.

Blue and white.

I feel little attachment to this place now, this province I called home for so long. Perhaps I do need a fresh start. Maybe Toronto, maybe somewhere else. Choice is mine. I am a child of the world, and it is truly my oyster. I live somewhere just above the fray of daily life, breathing in the realization that material things do not define me, do not affect my state of grace. I need a job, so, I’ll get one. But it has nothing to do with who I am. It’s not my life; it’s only my life situation.

My friends – my dear, loving, generous and caring friends – are here. But that’s just geography. Our love melts miles and banishes borders. Never before have my blessings of friendship been so evident to me. These days I am truly a product of their charity. They open their homes and hearts to me; we sit and talk and share and nobody cares that I, who was once gainfully employed and swathed in material success, am now homeless and jobless and broke. They humble me with their generosity and kindness in uncountable ways.

All I truly need is already upon me. This is astounding and it makes me feel at peace.