It rains. A lot.
I’ve seen more rain in the past two weeks than I have in the past 2 years. This is a wet place.
My thoughts have grown mold.
Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. City of the 49th parallel.
I come from a place where the desert meets the sea. Sunny, breezy. Mediterranean. I have over a dozen pairs of flip-flops; never owned rain boots. A place where seasons are as fickle as Hollywood deals.
El Pueblo de Nuestra Señora la Reina de los Angeles del Río de Porciúncula
The town of Our Lady Queen of the Angels of the River of Porziuncola
And yet somehow I am here, in this place. I should know why. I don’t. I can only say that I felt a pull, an unexpected and inexplicable sense of home 1,273 miles away from the metropolis of my birth. I had to come here, to this place my mind never left.
I like this city. I really do, but it is a hard place for me. The lack of sunlight antagonizes my Seasonal Affective Disorder. I am an eco-friendly human battery: solar-powered. I want to see it all but it can be difficult. Waking up to grey, hours seem to pass like minutes. And yet somehow, I am here, in this place. I just want to know why. I can’t. I feel that the search puts me in my own way but I am by nature a searcher.
Trying to balance it all, trying to understand it all. Trying to remain open and rational, grateful and discriminating, motivated and relaxed, honest and optimistic.
I think about things that haven’t worked out in the past. (Always a minefield.)
Did I not vibrate at the same frequency?
Did I not dream a big enough dream?
Did I accumulate some really terrible karma in previous lives?
Is it all random?
Is it all building to something that will make sense in the end?
What lesson haven’t I yet learned?
What do I want from life?
I don’t know…but I want to. And I think that should count for something.