It’s Dec. 24 and I’m sitting here with wet hair, wearing a shirt I bought in India and thinking about life.
It’s been a strange year.
For one thing, at this time, Dario is at home in Ottawa and I’m at home in Vancouver and we’re both with loving families.
Secondly, I had/have an extremely rare condition called anti-N.M.D.A. Receptor Encephalitis that gave me hallucinatory dreams, made me desire certain forbidden fruits, and gave me the strength to spit on a security guard.
I think it started with a move, but it might have started with an incredible vacation or a bad night. All these led to three weeks of insomnia and, finally, a huge seizure.
After that, I saw a series of doctors and spent 52 days in hospital.
Some night I slept and some nights I didn’t.
But the point of this all is that I’m getting better.
So much better that I know it’s going to be a few months until I recover from this one.
And so much better that I still love to write and have learned to love to run
So much better that I still love India and Rwanda and the whole world in all its beauty.
And if this sounds like a simplistic poem, that’s because it’s the truth.
I have more to say, but I might need to leave it to another time.
Lots of love,
P.S. I’ll leave you with some of my favourite lines/poetry ever written, because I think all good writing should begin with the truth and end with the truth (like a journalist).
“Sorry this is it,
it’s cold and hard and badly lit
and there’s no backing out of it
so forget where you’ve been
it’ll never be that good again
and soon you’re 33 and everything you’ve tried to be
is pulled apart by fear and greed
So I welcome you to it
And say let the God Damn games begin
‘Cause the God that gives deliverance has a thing for disappearing, Kid
and the fighting on the beach is it,
and the 5 a.m. to Winnipeg,
And the nights and fight and poison pits,
And the needle edge of all regret,
But the wind will always shift again,
And the breath beneath your apple legs
is strength enough to carry this.
And young hand could lift you up,
could carve your face in honest rock,
let sunlight on your noble jaw,
let young hands build you up,
I’m happy that you’ve come along
I’m happy that you’ve come.”
– Hey Rosetta!