Iowa

I woke up this morning in Iowa to a white sky and fast falling snow. I was grateful for the utter change in landscape that gave little reminder of the busy, full life of Vancouver distinguished by very un-winterish rain and grey. After a morning of reading I left the house for walk in the wind and muted blowing of snow. The silence of the house makes the words in my head sound louder and I'm once again bothered by my solo voice. I all too seriously entertained the idea of going downstairs and smashing the remaining cheerful teacup from an unbidden collection just for the satisfying smash and subsequent tidy-up. I'd forgotten how strangely self-centric my life here is. How I can go days without a sound until I'm abruptly shaken by my ability to speak in response to a mundane passing question. Part of me expects my tongue to have forgotten how to form audible words. I had spoken laughingly of my "monkish" existence, while forgetting the real quiet repose in which my days rest and roll by. My cat has followed and taken seat in my lap whenever I sit and he curls here now sandwiched between my arms on the table as I type at the keyboard. Cat of constant companionship.

Ben Steins (my celebrity of the hour) asked me yesterday whether I had a boyfriend, a question which only men over sixty seem to ask with consistent expectation. Responding "no" bothers me little in its statement or reality. More difficult is trying to explain how far-fetched this idea seems when I go home to St. Augustine's confessions and the voices of NPR that speak more relevantly in to my life than the culture around me. Boyfriends are starkly discordant with a life of plant watering and squash baking. As I survey my bedroom in anticipation of next year's move to Vancouver all I can envision is filling a suitcase with pillows, paintings and candle-sticks - an ultimately impractical collection which compromise the entirety of my few household possessions. I'm reminded of why my every thought and action must be deliberately reigned so to give my life direction and keep me sane. Structure is king. I can't complain because I have so much for which I am grateful and time here has taught me a lot about contentment even in the slow and mundane. A solidity in oneself might only be gained through silence. But I'm tired of a life so inwardly focused and I long to share conversation and laughter with others. Self struggle can eventually become masked self-indulgence and I want a life lived outwardly and in to the lives of other people.

On a different note, I would like to add my voice to those who'd outlaw leaf blowers and motorized snow scoopers. Besides all the important, warm, associate sentiments with raking and shovelling that provide a rich dimension of work and play in any season, the heinous noise of these machines shatters the delicate tranquility of our homes, replaces a family or community past-time, and adds to the trend in general societal laziness. If you use one of these devices I encourage you to rethink what was likely a rash decision and go back to manual labour. :)