“Our limbs, indeed, have enough room, but it is our souls that rust in a corner.” — Henry David Thoreau
There’s nothing like a new haircut to inspire one to action! I said, chop it all off, do what you will with this mop.
Maybe it wasn’t just the haircut. Maybe it’s also the fact that I’m on the move again, living out of a bag for the sixth time in as many months.
Wait, maybe it’s not my nomadism. Maybe it’s recalling what a friend said to me a few months back, when I was paralyzed by the fear of change. “Wrong attitude!” he said. “It is about creation at this point! Passion, reclamation, rebirth, renewal. To desire and chase impossible things until they become real. So, where to start?” I took those words and filed them away for a time like now, when I’m ready to appreciate them better.
It’s a strange congruence of feelings. The most prominent has been that of impermanence, of fleeting encounters, of moments that clarify just before they wane. It’s the stellar conversations you don’t cling to. It’s the murals that sparkle at night on Yen Phu. It’s the smell of tobacco that lingers in the rain as I drive past a tobacco company on Saturday afternoon. It’s the goodbye parties, from which a Hanoian week is never spared.
Maybe it’s a little bit of anger that I’m trying on for size.
It’s also the feeling of things underway, longer things. The PhD, obviously. But it’s more than just that.
It’s an eagerness to go home and be productive and creative and challenge myself to confront the things that anger me so much. It’s reading about my friends trying to stop an American company from digging a 2300 acre quarry in the heart of Ontario farmland; of the Canadian government’s despicable and arrogant treatment of organized labour as they legislate the Canada Post workers back to work; of the whispers of a general strike and not just wanting to be there but to make it happen; of late summer gardens and roasted root veggies. It’s where I ought to be – it’s where I will be – but that doesn’t mean I’m settling.