a christmas melange.

beck is one cool guy. mix mix. check check.

No. 16: Hot Sun Of A Christmas Day by planned_obsolescence

dark nights.

the longest night of the year arrives tomorrow. these short days, long nights. so much darkness. so much going in. haven't been able to fully experience it. the daily grind of this and that distracts from the moment- from the quietness of the night- the warmth of the fire. more intention to be in this dark time, with more awareness and gratitude for the darkness surrounding and the light that's coming...

december rolls in.

the weeks are sliding by without a word on here. term is wrapping up, it's time for serious-head-down-work and then another term will be complete.

stepped out of one reality and into another this week. visited baby r. reminded me of the simplicity and immediateness that comes when being around a small one. everything is in the moment. it's a good place to be. wondering what he sees through those big blue eyes, what he hears through those soft little ears, and what he thinks in his perfect head...

and then there was a bus trip back into the city. although computer was on my lap, chipping away at a paper, i was able to get back into that supreme zone of blurry landscape, bouncing light. one of my favourite things, gazing out the window, things out of focus, yet so clear...

so now, nose to grindstone for just a wee bit longer.

JAPW

start of my heart.

one of my fave videos, and a beautiful song that takes me on a road, every time.

props to joan as police woman.

open heart.

peering into the inside of someone's heart will forever be an image etched into the fabric of my brain. an experience so intimate, yet so depersonalized, so complex.

last week, i was looking into someone's living body- then i stepped back for a moment to contextualize the situation- i attempted to make that connection between the head of the patient with eyes closed under the sterile drape and the chest cavity open and the heart beating. this is something that isn't seen by many people. it's one of those experiences that is a sort of rite of passage, in the same way that seeing a baby being born for the first time leaves you changed forever. standing in surgery, listening to the surgeon's discuss their plan, watching them sew their delicate seams, all of it so visceral, and so profound. i'm left with a sense of pure awe, amazement and wonder- the resilience of this human body.

h1n1

it got me. the h1n1 influenza knocked on my door and waltzed right in without asking. it made me feel like i'd run a marathon- legs aching, back aching, head pounding, heart pounding. confirmation with a 38.1 degree fever. didn't even have time to get the damn vaccine.

daily, i read the newspaper. new pandemic headlines- "why panic is not the answer," "provinces scramble to fight flu's second wave," "flu-shot clinics struggle to keep up with demand," etc etc.

there is something odd, and perfect, about sitting on the couch with the flu whilst reading about the pandemic sweeping the nation. at least i know it's not all about me.

we're on day 4 here, the h1n1, and i have to say we are a bit more amicable with one another, since we've had so much Q time on the couch. i want to ask, "when are you leaving me? i've had enough. i've got halloween to enjoy, school to work on, clinical to pass. so why you staying past your welcome?" it doesn't say much to me. it watches battlestar gallactica over my shoulder, observes my mindless browsing of facebook and other such internet sites, all while perching comfortably at the edge of the sofa sipping orange juice.

i'm trying to be patient here, trying to ride through this, but moments of frustration can overcome, so now i am making granola.

golden again.

fall leaves, fall trees, trees' leaves' falling in the breeze.

this autumn light and autumn air, there's something about this time of year.