As my birthday approached a few weeks ago, people asked me in an ominous tone, “So how are you feeling about it?” The implication, of course, is that turning forty necessarily comes with vain attempts to stave off a total psychological collapse at the horror of it all. I smugly shook my head when asked. “It’s great. I have everything.” Freud was once asked the formula to a happy life, and he replied, “Love and work.” Well, I love my work. I love my friends. I love my family. Okay, I wasn’t in a relationship, but I really wasn’t missing it. I was whole and complete unto myself. Two days later I met someone, and now I’m head over heels. Life has a good sense of humour. And if I’m being a rubbish friend, vanishing for days on end and not updating my blog, this is why. He and I keep wandering spontaneously into fun moments:
- Standing atop Calton Hill, looking out at a blazing sunset over the spires of Edinburgh that poke up like a bear-trap. Then a celebration surrounded us, complete with a pipe band, women in ornate saris, and burning, fireworking effigies of Hindu characters.
- Meeting for dinner at The Filmhouse and getting press-ganged into the screening of a movie by a wildly bubbly woman from my writing workshop at the insurance firm earlier this year — she of the pink writing pen with the fuzzy pink troll hair, also the star of this amateur film, which was another product of the “Arts at Work” program that supported my workshop.
- Lying on a sofa-bed in Glasgow this weekend as the moon shone through the window on us, moving almost perceptibly from left to right. Then going the next morning to a naturist swim at Glasgow’s old Victorian baths, with steaming marble rooms, a pool under an arched roof with ornate turquoise iron gables and hanging trapeze bars and rings for swinging from end to end, people of all ages and sizes relaxing there, just being whatever shape they were.
Anyway, that’s all I’m saying. I’m not gloating and I don’t want to talk too much about something new and unformed, but… a lot of things have lined up nicely here. I wasn’t looking. I didn’t need it. And now it’s here, I have to admit that life is sweeter. I’ve met some really great people in the past, but there were always breaks in important areas that made it not work. This works. I’m all too aware it could vanish at any time, which makes it a challenge to let go and enjoy it, but… I’m managing! I’m reminded of a friend of mine who was prone to fits of imaginary struggle, angst, and drama, who’s now married to one of the most down-to-earth people you could ever meet. Because of this connection, now she can just watch when those instincts arise, when the crazy ghosts whirl around her head, and she can stay disengaged from them and know they’re not real because they so obviously have nothing to do with the real person she’s involved with. I can see myself doing that, injecting meaning when there are long gaps between text messages, or worrying about what this meant or that meant. All that self-doubt uses other people as characters in a puppet-drama about how worthless I am — and I hate how these pointless, hateful scripts have made me behave toward people, and how they steal the joy from situations I should be enjoying. But when I’m walking along the street and this guy takes my hand, my insides grow still, the noise goes quiet, and I smile. We sat down the other night and drew up a timeline of where we’ve been and when, and it’s almost surprising we haven’t met before now. But now is a good time.
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p>Today’s Thanksgiving in Canada, so I have the day off. And lots to be thankful for. I’m trying to catch up on some random tasks, and I just bought new towels and bedding. I can subject myself to the old, grey, scratchy, polyester stuff, but not someone else. I’m away next week with the Friday Gang, going to the north-west coast of Scotland. This is unusual, me taking a stretch of free time where I won’t be at home and I won’t be gallivanting around a foreign city, so I’m hoping I’ll be able to use the time to figure out what I’m doing next with the book and plan some other creative projects. It’ll be hard to be away from [himself], but this trip has been planned for a long time. Speaking of creative projects, I’m going to do another bookbinding workshop soon. Let me know if:
- You’d like to attend.
- There’s anything in particular you’d like to learn.
- You have any preferences about where and when.
