Mind! Ego! Trapped within itself. I have wandered the same mental landscapes again and again, thinking that I am gaining ground, but instead I find cyclical patterns, worn down – rutted, pitted pathways – sinking deeper and deeper. I pray you to lift me from them, for I fear, that I know no other way anymore.

I wish to leap free, skid sideways across paths that flow perpendicular. I wish to laugh at the old ways and know the new.

God! Give me strength in wearing times.

Cleanse my air, clear my water of debris and let my mind and body only absorb the good.

I fear the toxins of both matter and spirit.

I plead with you that the tiny poisons flow past me, cling not to me nor any other.

I beg that epidemics of malevolence dissipate and that all can be free and good.

The contractions that aided in pushing me to my first breath which brought me into the light of this world and into this corporeal body, have yet to cease. In my 24th year, they quicken and strengthen still – to what effect? God, I wish I knew!

I sit in the wind, and beg for it to whisper me its ancient truths. Wind! Wind! What is it I must know?

Silence, no, but answers no – still.

For what reason these building contractions, the pains ever intensifying? Closer and closer, I know them to come, suddenly overlapping.

knots in heart

heavy enough to sink

at the most minor rocking

Written by: Mike Catherwood
Illustrations by: Sandra Goldenberg

“As I was enjoying this moment, a roommate jumped in the shower and the sound of the water, quickly replaced the hum of the heater and again, my anxiety existed within my chest. Soon, I forgot the water was on and the sound disappeared to my ears, and yet the anxiety stayed.

“I wonder what it would be like if I lived away from the city for awhile, away from all the noises piled on top of one another? I wonder how my anxiety, the deep, lingering kind might fade when there wasn’t so much going on around me all the time?

“I’m not saying I’d be one with the universe or anything, only that I my agitation might subside, that I wouldn’t be wound quite so tight.”

“That’s deep.”

And I remember being so inspired by this song, and repeating that affirmation for myself.

I had, for so long, wished that I would find love. I felt like everybody around me had experienced love or been in some sort of committed relationship, except for me.

At age 22, I felt behind. (I know – roll your eyes, do what you have to do).

I wondered why I’d never found someone with whom to share my secrets . (After all, I think that’s what love is – allowing yourself to be fully seen by another).

And I, the at-times-pessimist, felt there was something about me, something that disallowed me to find some good loving. There’s no answer to why is happens for some and not others, or why love presents itself when it wants. There’s no equation to account for it’s appearance, and often too, it’s disappearance.

So, I don’t know what I did to deserve him walking my way that night on Bloor.

It doesn’t make sense why it made sense the second time and not the first.

I can’t be sure how he so easily forgave me for letting it go.

And so easily let me back.

Couldn’t tell you what changed, or why.

Or why, in my highly over-analyzed life, I let this particular circumstance occur with flow, no attempts at control.

But, I am pleased I stumbled upon that old affirmation.

Because I asked and I did receive, and I am so so so grateful that I did.

And now the task of being ready, of taking each step, each LEAP, in stride. (Even though sometimes it hurts and leaves me frighteningly exposed).

I was ready and am ready.

And though I wish and hope it stays with me forever, I know things can’t stay forever. Or not in the same form anyway.

Yet, I affirm, I am ready always. Whether in or out of love, I’m ready. Because, it’s all we can be, without risking something greater than hurt.

Imagine if each day was 100 years.

The stories you would have!

Well, I feel rather vulnerable right now, and I don’t think my tears are indicative of my embracing it.

I love a lot of people. I love my family, my friends, my man. I love them wholeheartedly.

Reading Plotinus, Gregory of Nyssa and Aristotle are enough to back my fears of loving. The ancients knew as well as we do that love requires risk – that when you love something impermanent, you have signed a contract to hurt at some point.

I’m hurting for my brother right now. I can’t do anything but be there to listen and tell him that I love him. This is out of my control.

My family is hurting right now and there’s nothing I can do but embrace the hurt.

My parents divorced when I was 8 years old and I will never know fully how I’ve been affected and continue to be affected by this event. I often tell myself that to talk about it is to complain about something that, in the scheme of things, isn’t that bad. I could have lost a parent for example. But that’s not my story. Divorce is.

Something about my brother’s situation is emotionally mirroring the divorce. A divorce layered upon another, hurt compounded.

And then I look to my own relationship. Having experienced divorce as a child will give you some baggage, no doubt about it. I don’t want all this luggage, I’ve always liked to travel light, but they’re not the kind of thing you can just dispose of. I’m probably going to have to sort through them, though this sounds rather painful.

And back to vulnerability. When you’ve been hurt, it makes the heart more tender and maybe more afraid. I don’t know if I believe in astrology, but working within that context, I am a cancer. Supposedly, the cancer is tender-hearted but craves security. (Though I suppose this could be said for many of us).

Why can’t I just get a guarantee on my love? Why can’t I be sure that this emotional investment will yield the returns I desire? Because Sandy! That’s not the way it works. That’s not the way anything works.

I don’t think of myself as a risk-taker, rather, a play-it-safer. I wear a helmet, I guiltily smoke only rarely, and I ask for advice. But nobody can advise you on how to spend your love because they don’t know any better. None of us are immune to heartbreak, unless of course you risk never loving. Which seems like an even scarier prospect.

But what happens when you fear love’s waning? What happens when you feel love’s waning? What happens when you’re so fearful of something that you somehow create it? I can only blame myself. (Why blame at all?)

God, I wish I was a little cooler, that I was better able to let things just happen. And sometimes I am, sure. But right now, no.

I’d blame it all on the moon, but I checked the lunar calendar and it just doesn’t make any sense.

There’s a feeling of freedom whilst a heaviness descends on my chest. There are endless paths that lay ahead of me and I don’t know which to take. I know that meandering gets you nowhere. A guru said, if you’re in search of water, you don’t dig for 10 feet, move to a new location, dig for 10 feet and so on and so on. You stay in one hole and dig and dig until you reach wetness.

If this is the case, I should choose wisely. Regret attempts to sneak into my heart, as I’m becoming aware that different choices for my undergraduate degree could have opened more doors. But I cannot blame myself for not knowing. I did not know. And there are no steps backward through time. I can choose to stay still or move forward, but stagnancy stings, this I know.

I thought I had a path but now I’m not sure it is best. As I research others, I realize how many choices there really are. My greatest fear is failure, as it is for many. But my smart brain knows that failure is not in the form I fear most. I fear not being capable, but incapability implies having tried to do something, anything. Failure is not trying. Failure is selling yourself short. Failure is not allowing yourself to do what it really is wants.

Self-doubt taints my imagination. I picture a beautiful life, and then words of negativity creep in and tell me it is not deserved.

Yet, I know that my potential is abundant. I can feel it swell within me. It’s been kept in for so long! It has been tamed by a too-long undergraduate degree. A graduate degree is tempting because people think it’s a good thing, a smart thing. But I know it will do nothing but suspend potential from flowering for longer.

I tend to think that fun things are the best things. A graduate degree seems far too serious for the likes of me. I’m not an overly serious person. What is fun? Theatre? Performance? Comedy? Is this what I’m meant for? How about art? Or yoga? Or therapy? Or health? Or children? These seem like fun to me.

What does it mean? More school? More money? More debt? More freedom?

What could happen when I unleash myself?

- (Quote from The Curious Case of Benjamin Button)