underdressed and overexcited

I was walking hurriedly home as the rain started to fall, when I heard a male voice yell out to me:

"Hey girl!"

I turned and looked to see a young guy, maybe a few years younger than me, wearing a black hoodie with gold Louis Vuitton motif, and a LOT of bling. He was standing on the steps of a church that always has beautiful music streaming out its windows on Sundays.

"Hi," I answered.

"Why aren't you in church?" He asked, grinning.

"Well, I don't really go to church. I haven't even been inside one in a long time."

"Well come on in, you're welcome here," He paused, adding with a wink, "You can come hang out with all the black people."

"What the? What do you mean?" I asked, laughing. "Do only black people go to this church?"

"Well I guess there are a few white people too. But it don't matter anyways, come on in and join!"

I walked in the first set of doors with him before remembering that I was wearing denim capris, running shoes, and a wet raincoat.

"Oh no I couldn't. I've seen how fancy the ladies who come here are dressed. They even wear hats! I'll come back when I'm dressed better. Well, maybe I'll just take a peek."

He pulled open the second set of doors, and I was hit by a wall of sound. Ladies and gents, children and the elderly, dressed to the nines were dancing and spinning around as they sang "hallelujia" at the top of their lungs. Some ladies near the doors glanced at me and smiled invitingly, waving me in despite my attire. I smiled back but shook my head, gesturing to my running shoes. Quietly I snuck back out. I did, however, promise Dwayne (the blinged-out guy who invited me in) to come back some time.

I have a not-so-secret obsession with gospel music and lively church choirs, and I have always wondered how I could get in on the action (despite my aversion to church-going). I once had a similar experience of being invited by strangers to join a choir in Tanzania. Perhaps opportunity has come a-knocking once again.

you can do better than that

It is exactly 15 days into the 40 days of Lent. I am not Catholic, but I have always thought that this ritual of sacrifice is a good thing, especially during this time of the year when I am typically "mowing down" on comfort foods and hibernating.

So I've given up (all) sweets, and Brian has given up meat. Neither sacrifice is an easy feat.

After two weeks of drastically altering my diet--and I mean drastically because I normally live off pastries, chocolate bars and giant chocolate chip cookies--my body feels refreshed and somewhat thankful.

Brian is not as happy with how Lent is treating him. Even though I have been trying myself to abstain from meat so as not to make things harder for his carnivourous appetites, he insists on eating many sweets in front of me, including my heart-shaped box of Lindor chocolates that he gave me for Valentines day. He also shakes the wrappers in front of my face so I have to smell the delectable, forbidden goodness of the chocolate.

It's getting easier though. And Brian is expanding his usually meat-dominated cooking repetoire to include veggie chow mein, eggplant parmesean, and various vegetable stews. He has even agreed to try meatless meatballs.

Now when I even have a green tea latte my body goes into a crazy sugar high that hints strongly of my former dependency on all things sweet. Despite my cravings, and despite my shameful withdrawal symptoms, I feel oddly proud.

This process has made me develop a creepy habit to pass the time while I wait for buses, sit on buses, wait in lines, and work out. I constantly find myself wondering what other people have/would-have-if-they-did-this-sort-of-thing given up? This gets me wondering about other peoples' vices, and also wishing certain other people would give up certain things. For example:

1) The student who never fails to have some kind of crisis every time I am at work and spends at least 2 shifts of 15-20 minutes talking on the free phone (which is right beside me), looming over me, and asking his mom/brother/girlfriend "nellie"/group member to email/bring/do something for him that he forgot to do.
--> this guy should give up depending on others and getting in peoples' personal space.

2) The people who sit right next to me on the bus after eating a large and heavily-scented meal
--> these people should give up: onions, garlic and other noxious food items before getting on public transit.

3) The people who get on the elevator and furiously push their floor button and the close door buttons incessantly, and after every stop the elevator makes.
--> These people should give up impatience

4) Many people at the variety of art festivals I've been to lately, and certain people at the gym whose armpits always seem to be near my face.
--> these people should not give up deodorant.

I'm not normally this moody, so I'm blaming it on the sugar deprivation.

snow storms

I've never watched a blizzard from this high up. While watching snowflakes from a house, you only see the flakes as they reach their resting place on the ground. 15 floors up, it's a riot of wind currents, swirls of snow, torrents of downfall, west and eastern winds tossing the flakes to and fro. The north wind comes down over Mont Royal, carrying more snow towards our apartment in great big gusts. And I've got nowhere to go. Monday is my day off, and class was cancelled tonight. I feel like a kid on the best of snow days. It was just me in the apartment with chores, homework, great big mugs of tea, and a wild storm to watch.

Lately I keep finding myself sounding like a voiceover on the beginning of a tv drama. Hope nobody minds.

Today I decided to follow up on my earlier commitment to go to a friendly neighbourhood clairvoyant. This lady practiced psychometry, or token-object reading (she does the reading by holding a personal object in order to "connect to" her client's energy). We spoke behind indigo silk curtains. The only light was the late afternoon sun streaming in through a small, dusty window frame.

It was intense, to say the least. She told me my reading was one of the most positive ones she's ever given. A dream come true, for most people she said. "I wish this reading was for me." But I wasn't as pleased as she might expect me to be. Every person's dream doesn't necessarily hold the same appeal for me. There was talk of more schooling, gardening, dinner parties, ritzy neighbourhoods, blonde children who will take ballet classes, and things I haven't really been working towards, at least not yet. First of all, I always fancied myself a bohemian, not a socialite. Second of all, I don't want to know about my future kids and retirement hobbies! I want exciting, near-future stuff!

She told me I have the mind of a 35-year-old. Be that as it may (or isn't), I don't want to know about my 35-year-old self. I want to know about now, and what's on the near horizon. Her answer?

School, school and more school.

Great.

If this is to be the case, it looks like you, my faithful readers, are in for a few more years of me talking about books. I imagine you are thrilled, or are removing me from your links list immediately. And I was really hoping she'd give me descriptions of safaris from Cairo to Cape Town, or llama riding in Macchu Picchu. Nope, books it is, apparently.

Don't worry, I'm not taking this all to heart. I've always enjoyed going to psychics as a way of waking up all the lazy parts of me, the ones that are getting stuck in ruts, and into routines, and out of fresh ideas. When someone gives you an idea of a possible future, sometimes it just gets you thinking along a different line, or opens you up to paths and patterns you might not have thought of otherwise. I'm not destined to be a wealthy housewife, but her suggesting I might be is just enough to motivate me to carve another fate.

I really think that futures and possibilities blow around us like wind currents. They are invisible, yet always there. Snow makes wind patterns visible to the eye. A reading makes different possibilities visible to our hearts, and we decide which ones we like, which ones feel right, which ones to follow. But they can also blow right through our fingers if we don't make up our minds.

If you want the details of the reading, let me know. They were pretty interesting, actually.

Also, today's recipe: Blackberry Salad
- baby spinach
- ripe blackberries
- soft goat cheese
(chopped red peppers and pecans optional)
-balsamic vinaigrette

yum :)

divine doubt

She pulled the scrap of paper from her pocket again and looked at the scrawled words doubtfully.

"Are you sure this is the right place? I asked.

Somehow, it didn't have quite the vibe I expected. Before we could second guess the directions, the front door swung open and we were greeted by a petite, dark-haired, green-eyed lady who stared back at us with wide eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, this is it, this is me. Come on in, girls."

We looked at eachother apprehensively and stepped in. Once inside, things started to make a little more sense. The air was thick with a sweet, spicy aroma that was both herbal and feminine. Every available surface was covered in a sculpture of some kind of mystical creature. The effect was classy and intriguing, rather than kitschy. She gave us blueberry tea and told us to drink it slowly while trying to relax. Was I being drugged? Before I could ask what was next, she disappeared behind a japanese room divider. 5 minutes later, I would experience my first psychic reading.

That was just about 5 years ago now. Green-eyed L. read our tea leaves and tarot cards, and mapped out a series of dreams and nightmares for us. In a matter-of-fact tone, she told us things we found surprising, obvious, or impossible. We went in together, so I guess you could say we are privvy to eachother's fortunes. You might think this would have become a bonding point for us, but the truth is we barely speak of it. Perhaps the way L.'s predictions unfolded over the following couple of years, and had a creepy way of turning out, was too close to the book for us. Too much.

Does this make me a "believer"? Not necessarily. But throughout my life I have always seemed to attract people with all kinds of lessons and messages for me. These encounters have left impressions, and I'm too impressionable to doubt the mysteries of this life. I'm not a fatalist, but I do tend to follow the road as it unrolls before me. If I didn't do this, my life would have been very different. Maybe it's more about faith than fate?

I'm always equally curious about those who gravitate towards the paranormal or "new age", and about those who abhor it. Where does the trust and fascination, or skepticism and dismissal come from? Who are the people who look to these kinds of sources for answers or insight? What makes some want to know, and others afraid to? When are the moments that we do decide to look for guidance; when we're most despairing, or most confident? Is it the vanity of youth, or the uncertainty of mid-life that brings us to ask questions?

Are we always wondering if we have yet become the people we are meant to be?

On some days, crystal balls seem like they could be practical, household devices. Other days I won't even glance at a horoscope in case tells me something I don't want to know about the day. Is visiting a psychic like a life spoiler? Is it only for the weak, the weird, and the lonely? Or could it be for anyone? Is there such thing as practical magic?

The centre for all things "magical" in Montreal just happens to be located within a block from our apartment. Maybe I'll stop in next week to look for some answers for these questions.