Thursday, Mar. 13, 2014 @ 10:01 am
The dance studio moved from the old warehouse to a top floor retail space on Broadway. I climb the dark stairwell and emerge into a room filled with light, mirrors on all sides, and the view to the snowy mountains reflected infinitely. As the hour progresses, the sun sets, and the light shifts across the room, at times directly in my eyes. So much light. My right hand resting lightly on the barre, piano filling my ears, and the mountains shifting from white to blue to orange then pink. It's been six months now, six months of dancing.
Daniel and I finished counselling, at least for now. I've stopped blaming him for a lot of things. That's been a key relevation. He has learned to express his feelings properly, which allows me to feel empathy rather than defensive. We have learned how to time out when my anxiety becomes overwhelming and damaging. We have learned how to better care for each others needs. I believe now that things can and will move forward. In terms of thinking about other people, well, I can use those feelings to determine what I need from this relationship. If I haven't asked for it here, then I haven't given it a chance, right? D loves me very deeply, and we have great trust and honesty. The trick now is to continue to show ourselves to each other, intimately, and to not shy away when things are difficult.
One night, we ride the bus together out to Kitsilano. We head down to the beach and then walk the seawall all the way home. It's strangely quiet, for the mild night. Tide is low. The sand is fragrant from the earlier sun. A wind blows the bare willow trees, their giant forms rippling so delicately. Waves gently lapping, the city vibrating.
We booked a major trip for May.
In the past, we have spent excessive time exploring our own backyard. BC, Washington, Oregon.. my god, I'm fairly certain we've driven every highway, slept at every campground, visited every island, lake, river in existence in the Pacific Northwest. At Christmas, crossing the border on our way to the Oregon Coast, the border guard was a total ass and left me crying and shaking in secondary inspection. Our car inspected because I'd not declared an orange peel that was sitting in plain sight on the dash. I didn't speak until we hit the outskirts of Portland. We decided at that moment that we needed a break from America.
In May, we are going to Europe for three weeks. Paris, the French Riviera, the Swiss Alps, Bavaria, and Bohemia. God, that sounds so pretentious. If you had any idea of how many nights we've spent under a dripping tarp in some godforsaken corner of Washington State. We need to get off of this continent and get some perspective. There are so many messed up things in North America. Our addiction to cars, box malls, raw exports. Lax social policies, overworked citizens. Rural poverty, the diminishing middle class. Yes, our lives here are good, but could we not do better? I think that we can. Anyhow, that's a tangent that's beyond the point of this. We're going to Europe, and it's going to be amazing, and I'm going to drink a lot of wine and eat a lot of cheese and ride a bicycle around Paris and swim in the Mediterranean and hike in the Alps until my feet fall off.
So, that's about it for now.