adaptation

I won't lie - I cried when I came home. When I woke up the next morning, I forgot I was in Vancouver until I opened my eyes, and the disappointment was heavy. But now I'm sitting in front of my window and the sun is out, and it feels good to be back. The water is calm and I feel the deep familiarity of that soft but steely blue and that same blue on the mountains. I'm thinking of all the times I've wondered why the forested slopes, clothed top to bottom in green, look blue from a distance. I'm thinking of the sound of that water lapping against stones on a beach. Not the rushing, roaring, crashing vigour of the South Pacific, but a languorous inky murmur. The tall dry grasses and the tall lean firs and the naked rocks and deciduous branches are intimate memories of all my years here.
I am glad to have missed the darkest months. But now I'm glad to be here for the arrival of spring. I love the anticipation of that, the early signs. I love to feel the sun grow stronger and stay longer and I love to hear the birds return. And the first buds opening, so slowly and then suddenly, and the tree trunks yielding with oozing sap and fragrance. All of winter's iron jaw loosening its grip...
I spent this morning tearing apart my room, taking things down, packing things away, discarding things, streamlining every surface and clearing up space. Space, space, space. With spring I want space. Openness and air and a sense of impermanence.
I don't want to be attached to my belongings here. I want this room to be a neutral place, a room to visit for long periods and still easily walk away from. My time away really clarified for me the importance of space and lightness. I felt so free to move about. I want to feel that I am passing through, making nests out of twigs and moss. I am happiest this way - to feel that I am carrying within me all that I need. One day I might need something more permanent and secure, but that's in some unknown future. Right now, I crave having more time alone, and being able to walk wherever I go, being able to live simply and think massively. So I think I'll sublet a little place near work in town, so that I can spend my spare time writing and practicing, swimming, visiting with friends and playing gigs - time that would otherwise be spent on a long commute. I'm going to go back to living off a small cash allowance for a few months so I can focus my funds on my music career. And I will still come to Bowen on the weekends and whenever I have a spare day.
It's funny how this changes. My needs can change quite dramatically this way, every few months sometimes. At least every year. If I am tied down by possessions and obligations, it makes it very difficult to even be aware of these shifting needs. If changes are too difficult to make, then nothing changes until a major crisis forces it. Some people might think this flaky and restless. But I'm not restless, I just feel so much more able to recognize opportunites and possibilites and act on them.
I'm going into town tonight. It's basically a huge FNC. But I'm not too nervous. Because now, I feel like I'm just a visitor in Vancouver, here temporarily. Just passing through.

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