names

Today I was referred to as a writing buddy, a quilting buddy, a dance partner, Detail Girl, a student, a friend, an editor, and honorary family (that is to say, enough of a regular customer at Beau Photo to merit special invitation to use the "family" door instead of the front entrance). On any given day, I am also an artist, a daughter, a sister, Super Moaike, a cook, a liturgist, an entrepreneur, an advisor, a support person, a housekeeper, an accountant, a financial manager, an athlete, and a whole lot more. Life can be so rich.

rest

I have a safe and warm and quiet place to call home, and a comfortable bed to curl up in. I will not take for granted the beautiful fact of this provision. It's a simple and wonderful thing that my physical weariness and desire for rest is so easily and immediately tended to. Theoretically, at least. Having a warm and comfortable bed does not assure a good night's sleep, as I well know.

The same can be said of soul solace, I suppose. One can have what would appear to be the right ingredients for a restful soul, and still find oneself feeling restless and angst-ridden. I have faith, I have assurances for peace and provision, and still I strive and worry and let various fears get the better of me. "Thou hast made us for thyself, O Lord, and our souls are restless until they find their rest in thee," prayed St. Augustine. How grand it would be to wrap my soul up in a duvet of peace and certainty, to find a warm and comfortable solace and leave all angst and striving behind. Then a practical voice chips in with the observation that we don't really leave behind all angst and striving until our hearts stop beating. I'm tired and I'm ready for my bed tonight, but I'll be glad to get up in the morning and wear my body and brain out again another day. So also my soul is weary and longs for rest, but I'm glad for the opportunity to beat down my fears and seek peace and truth and beauty another day. I hope to run the risk of fatigue, disappointment and failure in all these endeavors for a good many years yet before settling in to my final resting place. Lord willing.

tube top tango

This video clip lifts my spirits every time I watch it. First and foremost, because it's what I aspire to in my own tango journey. I'm not as good as this dancer, though I had compliments from every lead I danced with at last Tuesday's milonga! My second reason for loving this glimpse of tango is because it's so human. In addition to documenting some lovely tango moves, it shows the adjust-the-strapless-dress-over-the-boobs move at least five times, once during the dance and five times in the last twenty seconds of the video. It's reminiscent of red-socks tango.

autumn bouquet

When I came out to my car tonight, parked in the alley behind a friend's home downtown, I found it covered in a delicate collage of tiny golden leaves. Having fallen with heavy rain earlier this evening, the leaves were glistening and wet, and laid out as artfully by nature as they might have been by, say, Matisse. The display was all the more beautiful when viewed from the interior. It was like looking up at a night sky of enormous golden stars. I felt like God had arranged an extravagant bouquet for me. It was lovely. It fairly broke my heart to have to put on the windshield wipers for the drive home.

this blog brought to you by the letter F

First of all, I'm delighted to report that in spite of my fear that my newfound sense of feeling better would be fleeting, I am still feeling well. It's been a week, now. It's still sort of a shock. May I never again take for granted the joy of being able to think clearly! Being able to focus on a task and follow it from start to finish is fabulous. If it weren't for the lingering fear that it won't last, I'd be positively giddy.

Before you think that all the words beginning with F in the last paragraph is what inspired the title to this blog, I'm going to share the F litany that's been running through my head when I contemplate things I'm thankful for.

FEET: One of my quirky depression symptoms is sore feet. They just ache. It's part and parcel of the I-don't-want-to-go-anywhere-or-do-anything angst thing, I guess. But I've been forcing myself out for an hour of seriously sweaty exercise on the seawall several times a week and it's paid off. Also, if you've been reading this blog at all lately, you'll know that tango has played a not insignificant role in my battle against depression. I am deeply thankful for my sturdy size ten feet and all they enable me to do. My feet were sore today, but only because yesterday I ran four kilometers, did an hour-long tango technique class and then danced for two and a half hours at a community milonga. I love my feet.

FRIENDS and FOOD: I have been richly blessed with friends who feed me. If it hadn't been for the left-overs and specially prepared food that my friends have shared with me over these last months, I'd have wasted away. Just yesterday a friend had me over for lunch and then sent me home with soup enough for at least twelve meals, a bin of organic salad greens, kale, camembert, cheddar, apples, crackers, chai spices, tomatoes, carrots, a cucumber, cashews, grapes, and a brand new frying pan, just because. She's a hero. It's so good to be so loved.

FAMILY: My parents live approximately well over five-thousand kilometres away from me. Still, we look out for each other. We call just to chat and to say things like, "Wouldn't it be lovely if we take a coffee break together?" or "We have a delicious pork roast in the oven. Wish you could join us!" My dad was away, curling, last weekend, so I called my mom every day, sometimes twice, to keep her company. That, in turn, kept me company. The big news is that for the second time since I moved to Vancouver in 1990, this year, my parents are coming for Christmas. I think of it every day.

myself

The best thing about today was that for the first time in ages I felt like myself. I've really missed that feeling.