Art Imitates Art - Earlier North Carolina and OTH Blogs
Perspective
I am sitting on the plane from Toronto, Ontario to Raleigh North Carolina, looking out the window and realizing just how tiny everything is from up here. How buildings and cars, people and landmasses seem so minute and insignificant from this perspective. I realize, that every single thing in our lives; how we perceive things, how we react to them, what we feel about the people in our lives, or the things we have, and our experiences, is all about perspective.
Perspective is a funny thing, when you think about it. Each one of us will look at the attached photos here, differently. Each will see something different in various aspects of each photo. Each will find something that is attractive to their eye or meaningful to their soul; or will not. Some, might see darkness or some might focus on the light within the images. No, one person will see them from the same perspective. Each person who views them will look at each of the images differently as well; seeing something different, focusing on a different aspect of it with the changes in light throughout the series of images. Each person’s perspective will change as the light increases or decreases; based on the amount of light or darkness let into the images.
As well, no, one person will look at these images the same way as even they have done before. With each change in them, their perspective will change. Each experience of viewing these images will change when something changes within the viewer. I’ve looked at these images, myself several times now, and each time I see something new. Because I am never in the same frame of mind more than once. And, with each frame; within the images and within my perception, my perspective changes.
The same can be said for people's perspective on their lives. Their perspective on others, their perspectives on themselves, or experiences, and on relationships. On life, itself. Just like our perspective on these images and our perception of what they each provide us or represent to us, so is our perspective on life and all that it means to us; including the people in our lives, altered with and by the level of darkness or amount of light that we let in. Altered by the amount of light or darkness others bring to our lives. How we look at things makes them different from how someone else might perceive them.
Standing in front of a river, it seems vast and never ending. Looking at it from thousands of feet above, it’s like a small crack in the landmass. So many things that we perceive as enormous or overwhelming, can be perceived as small and meaningless when looked at differently. As I said in a previous post; about gratefulness, I am lucky enough to feel grateful for all that I have in my life, which makes what I have even more worthy of gratefulness. My perspective on what I have dictates how I feel about my life and the people in it. I am grateful for my kids, my family, my friends and my fur babies. I am grateful that I’ve had the opportunity to have a partner; albeit short-lived and exasperatingly complicated, for the time that I had him with me. And, even though I’ve had a rough few days, since he left and, have had a few major life-altering moments over the past few months, I’m still grateful that I have what I have and can do what I do, regardless of how short-lived any of it might be.
My perspective changes from moment to moment, and with it so does my level of gratitude for all of what I consider to be blessings in my life. It is my perspective that dictates my gratitude and my gratitude that dictates my level of contentment; which ultimately dictates my happiness. So, then I suppose it could be said that happiness is also, a matter of perspective.
Musings from a Raleigh Starbucks
After fifteen hours of sleep in one of the most comfortable beds I've ever slept in, at my AirBnB last night, I've decided I should probably use some of this time to explore the city while I have a chance. I got up and showered this morning and went to get coffee. Finding a Starbucks, instead of my normal travel habit of looking for something unique and local. Where, I intended on simply grabbing an Americano and then heading to a more interesting venue; the North Carolina Museum of Art. But something happened when I arrived. I found this place; normally a chain of sameness, serving the same coffee and same environment in locations all over the world, had its own unique environment. I've been in many Starbucks', in Canada, UK, Europe and the U.S., and this was the first that held its own area intrigue. I can only assume that it is because of the people, and the city, itself.
This place is an enigma. There is one long table set up for use by lap toppers, bloggers and people watchers. The perfect position for people watching; with a view of every corner of the place and every customer in the place, as well as a view of the outside. As I stand in line, the man ahead of me orders, “plain old coffee. Nothing fancy”; while his companion orders an iced coffee, and pays with his phone. They are the perfect metaphorical example of this place. Another one sits, listening to a Baptist minister’s sermon while making notes and highlighting passages in his King James Bible. His Bible, held together with what appears to be packing tape; pages brittle to the touch. Yet, he wears Beats headphones, attached to his MacBook, and sporting an iWatch to go along with his iPhone. One can only propose that this bible has seen him through a great deal of life’s challenges. His support, his hope, his connection with God. Very likely, his constant companion throughout the dark times, and a guide to assure him that he is still on the correct path when things are going well? I feel this deep within my soul. I have a similar bible, that I've carried with me throughout most of my adult life. That I've moved countless times, and that is always, the inevitable place I return when things get too dark. My symbol of hope, and light in the darkness, as well.
I sit down, taking my place in the people watching, blogging and lap topping section. Pull out my laptop and look around; beginning to observe the things around me that make them blog worthy. Realizing, that everything is blog worthy if observed and expressed in such a way that others can relate. If you can paint a picture of the beauty and intrigue found within what is ordinarily viewed as the mundane. There is so much beauty around us; so much to be intrigued and amused by. So much artist’s and writer’s fodder. I observe everything, and everyone.
There is a corner in here, where you can play cards and board games. Like the smaller cafes in Canada all have; where you can go back to interacting with each other in real life and have a real conversation, without a digital filter to help you do this. In this corner, there are three sweet little old ladies; playing cards, drinking coffee and talking to one another. Not a laptop or cell phone in sight.
There is a conference room in the other corner; that you can apparently, as the sign states, book for business lunches or use as a co-working space for online workers or work-from-homers’. One corner representative of, ‘the good ‘ole days’, and the other, of today’s society. It’s amusing and perplexing at the same time. It seems to make a statement about where we are as a society, in general. One foot in the past, while the rest of our body hurtles forward into a future of misinformation, miscommunication, and anti-social media. With some of us hanging onto what once was, while trying to find our place in what now is. Trying to maintain some semblance of connection in such a disconnected world; a world in which, many, other than those like this man and his tattered but trusty old bible, seem to have forgotten about God.
I watch the, ‘plain coffee’ man and his companion. Almost the perfect artist’s expression of his age and stage of life, he has his reading glasses out to read the text messages he might receive on the cell phone in front of him. He, himself demonstrates the uniqueness within our current society. His companion, younger and more in tune with our era, has put his cell phone away. He does not have reading glasses but he’s apparently been taught cell phone etiquette by someone older in his life.
The, ‘torn Bible’ man gets up and packs up his electronics without care. Puts them in a backpack like they are meaningless and of no value to him. His Bible, on the other hand, he handles with such tenderness and delicate touch that you would think it was a newborn baby. This has seen him through some kind of war; I feel it, and I can relate. He is thankful for having had something like this; reason and purpose, path or faith in something to help him through. You see it in how he handles this, otherwise, inanimate object. It's beautiful.
I think to myself, this will likely be one of my last trips for awhile. I can’t really afford all these trips but I do them anyway. Why? Because we only get this one life and we only have a short time with it all. We have to live it. We have to experience things like this, and see the places around us, and people within them. I muse about my life thus far; the things I've done, the places I've visited and the people I've met. I realize that there is a vast geographical gap between the places I've been and have fallen in love with; the East Coast of Canada, the UK, and North Carolina, are my favourite places in the world, and yet they are all so different. They are all so far apart. But there is something that makes them the same for me.
It could be that they all share the Atlantic. It could be that each place represents a migration of people from the same places; in the Europe and UK, originally. People from Ireland, Scotland, Wales, and England. It could be, in the case of the Carolina's and Canada's East Coast, that they were all settled and developed around the same time, by the same people from the places in the UK and Europe that I love so much. I could be so many things. It could be the ocean, itself calling me home, by way of the ancestral DNA I hold within me; from those who inadvertently created me, and made me who I am.
Either way, these places, and the people and all that they have done to maintain the beauty and intrigue keep calling me back. Each of these places, I experience beauty like this. Each of these places, I've seen God's creations and have experienced His works; like that of this man and his tattered but trusty bible. Each of these places hold some kind of sacred space in my heart, and keep me coming back; to places like this city, and this Starbucks, and to witness things like this man and his bible. And they keep surprising me, and providing this writer with fodder for these musings, and inspiration and guidance for my soul.
I'm off to explore now. And then off to learn more about this city and its history. I'll share more of my musings later; along with more photos, of course. For now, I will soak it all in, in complete gratitude; at knowing just how blessed I really am. To be here, and to be able to experience this, as well as to feel this gratitude, in itself.
Thank God for Hometowns
Thank God for Hometowns and Inspirational Uber Driver's
There’s magic here, in North Carolina. I feel it every time I visit. Something beautiful and powerful that makes people some of the friendliest and happiest people I’ve met. After touring the museums in Raleigh today, I realized how many people here, like the east coast of Canada, have ties to the UK. Most commonly, Scotland, Ireland and England. And it all makes perfect sense to me. As does my fascination with, and draw to all of these places that I’ve visited; all of the places where I’ve found magic and intrigue!
There’s a smell of bbq in the air here. Despite the fact that I’m a vegetarian, I still find this smell appealing. Oddly, it makes my mouth water and my mind wander to more innocent days. Despite my difficult and complicated beginnings, I still have a sense of 'home' and what a 'hometown' should be like. This BBQ smell makes me picture the perfect day in a small town, with family and friends, gathered together celebrating life, love and one another. It perfectly embodies this place; Raleigh, and North Carolina in general. And it makes me think of the amazing conversation I had with my Uber driver yesterday.
It was the best conversation with any Uber driver I've ever had; and I've had many throughout my travels. In fact, it was one of the best conversations I'd had in a long time. We talked about coming home; being grateful for where you live and what it means to you, despite what has happened there. He said he was born and bred here, in Raleigh, and because of that he doesn't always see and appreciate the beauty around him. He told me that three people this week had made him feel grateful for where he lived; because they were openly appreciating the architecture and the scenery in the area and he said he thought about the carrie Underwood song, "Thank God for Hometowns".
He played me the song, and after an amazing conversation about coming home and how I did just that after I injured myself and medically released from the military. I could have gone anywhere; could have done any college course. I could have moved across the country, and at one point I even considered it. 'Home' to me was the city in which I live now, even though I wasn't raised there. I had been married to all of my husbands there and had some bad memories there, but I also raised kids there and was comfortable with the familiarity. I had called it home for nearly thirty years. So, I returned. I came home to heal.
This conversation, combined with the friendliness and amazing hospitality I had experienced, both on this trip and each time I visited North Carolina made me think of my tribe at home. Of all the people who fill me up; their beauty, unconditional acceptance, support and love. How they are like the people I've met in all of the places I’ve visited. That I’ve traveled thousands of miles to meet like-minded people and yet, the tribe I have at home consists of the same like-minded people, as well. We talked about this and he [Uber driver] suggested that maybe I'm drawn to these places for the same reason that I'm drawn to these kinds of people. I had to agree. I was drawn to the magic and beauty around me, anywhere and everywhere it existed. And it existed here.
Our conversation ended with him telling me that I was a very spiritually uplifting person with beautiful energy and a good soul. I could say the same for him. And I could say the same about this place. It's magic here, and it feels like yet, another 'hometown' to me.
Where you belong...
Where poets speak their heart. Then bleed for it
I was trying yet again, to explain what the strong connection I seemed to have with One Tree Hill was about, and what the show meant to and for me. I had, so many times before, said that it was because it was like a collage of sorts, made up of art, literature and music. And, that each one of these mediums had impacted me so greatly that I could relate with the artists. Then, after visiting the Art Museum here, in Raleigh I was struck by the fact that it was simply art, itself to me. It was its own medium.
I asked someone if they had ever had a piece of art speak to them in such a way, that it actually changed them; their mindset, their thought pattern or process on something specific, or at all. Had it impacted them or affected them so much that it, actually changed them; their ideals, their way of being, or even their lives, themselves? And, as soon as I uttered these words, I realized that this is precisely what this show was to me. It was a piece of art that, each time I watched it, changed or impacted me differently and had a positive effect on my life, somehow. I hadn't realized this before, until I had entered a new art gallery and museum; one I had never entered before. Until I realized that there was, actually magic here in North Carolina, for me.
The art museum, itself had spoken to me. In fact, the very first piece of art I saw in the gallery, there was by Tavares Strachan; Strachan being my recently discovered family name that I had happened upon by doing DNA testing. My mother, having been adopted, did not know her family line so. When I did my DNA testing, I found her sisters and cousins; the Strachans. I had found a huge piece of me that had been missing and, at the same time, realized what it was that tied me to Scotland and Ireland. Why it was that I yearned for these places so much that I felt it in my bones. I had just returned from my Strachan family Scottish clan gathering in Aberdeenshire, Scotland only months before. I felt more whole than I had ever felt. I felt this same connection with North Carolina. It felt like a homecoming everytime I visited here. It felt almost as powerful as it had in Scotland.
After Scotland; after X and I, and after his visit and inevitable departure, that left me feeling broken and alone again; a feeling that had been foreign and very far away for many years now, since I had done so much work to be happy alone. A feeling that almost broke me more than once in my life. After he left, I was dark, and so melancholy that I had nearly cancelled my trip to North Carolina. Had I been able to have the airfare refunded, I would likely not have come here this time. But it turned out to be precisely what I needed to heal a little and return to myself again.
When I entered that art museum; after speaking to the security guard and the on-duty copper there to figure out the layout and protocols within, I looked to my right as I was passing a desk and, in neon above, were the words, "You belong here". To the left of this sign, was a white card, naming the artist as, "Tavares Strachan". "You belong here", in light so that I couldn't miss it. I didn't know if it was the universe suggesting that this is exactly what I needed at the time, or if it was saying, "hey you, you've been here before too; your ancestors have, like in Scotland and Ireland, and you have ties here too". Or, if it was suggesting that moving to North Carolina was, in fact the cure to my troubles, entirely.
All I knew was that, since having arrived here, I felt better. Almost immediately. That, the people I had met and was surrounding myself with were like salve to my wounds. Or that the nice gentleman who helped me at the art museum was my real and true soul mate. Or, that the people that I was going to spend the weekend with; the staff and volunteers, and the talent from the One Tree Hill show, itself, that they would be help heal me from this wound this time, like One Tree Hill had done so many times before.
All I knew, was that there was magic in this place. There was magic here for me, specifically. That I loved the sense of belonging I felt here. That I was listening to universe and its signs again. And, that regardless of how, with who, or in what way, I belonged here. And, that my own kin had said so. That, it was the place where the poets spoke, the artists created and they expressed what was in their hearts. That there was only one Tree Hill, and that it was my home. And, I belonged here somehow. And that was all that mattered.
One Tree Hill
Echoes, Silence, Patience and Grace
"I wanna believe in it all again. Music and art faith and love. I wanna believe that I've made the right choices and I'm on the right path. And there's still time to fix the mistakes I've made. I guess I want hope." - One Tree Hill
As I said, when asked why I can relate so much to this show, I said it is a piece of art that speaks to me in a way no other has spoken to me before. It is like a feeling of belonging and being understood. Like a homecoming, everytime I watch it. It makes me feel like I am not alone and can connect with the artists involved in the creation of this particular piece of art. It embodies pieces of my heart, mind and life that are like, as Dave Grohl puts it (in, "Home"), "echoes, silence, patience and grace" all in one place, and explains that, "All I want is to be home", experiencing, "All of these moments I'll never replace". In this case, "home", for me representing places, like North Carolina where I felt at home and felt the peace and comfort of 'home'. And, I felt that this weekend at the One Tree Hill convention, yet again. This time, as a volunteer and part of a strong and amazing team.
As I said in an earlier post, for the most part, the people who connect with this show also connect with one another. I felt it at the last convention I attended and I felt it again this weekend. Not people fighting one another for a spot in line and fighting to get to the front to see their favourite actors and celebrities, but people, helping one another and letting them in line ahead of them so they can experience 'bucket list' material and experiences; so they can help them make their dreams come true. It's incredibly powerful when people connect like this and on this level. It's magical to watch how people take care of one another in situations like this.
Last night was a perfect example of this when I was priveleged to witness what I can only describe as the equivalent of the parting of the red sea, by OTH fans who wanted to help another one of the fans (a smaller girl who couldn't see over the heads of some of the taller fans), get through to the front of the crowd to see the singer, Michael Grubbs, from Wakey Wakey play. One moved over, and tapped the other one on the shoulder. That one kneeled down, while another one stepped in behind this small female fan and protected her spot for her. Then another one, seeing this happening, squatted down and gently signalled the other one beside him to do the same. It was an unbelievably beautiful display of humanity and human compassion; and it was because they could all empathise with this fan, because they all felt the same way she did. They were all touched by the show and moved by the music from it. It was so moving, I actually had tears in my eyes and had to leave the room and share about this beautiful moment with other staff and volunteers from the convention. As I write about it now, I am close to tears remembering this beautiful but simple act of compassion. And, I realize why this piece of art means so much to me and is so moving to both me and to so many others.
I felt this same energy all weekend, amongst the staff and volunteers of this convention. I also saw a work ethic like I'd not seen in a very long time. They were all there for the same reason, to see the same people and things but they were also all there to help one another and to make sure that each person got what they needed out of the weekend and the events. As crazy as this may sound, considering it is a convention and not a mindfulness or spiritual reatreat, but they were there to make sure that everyone felt listened to, cared for and that every one of their dreams became a reality throughout the convention. Because they were all like-minded people who were all effected by this art. I wasn't certain if they were effected in this way because they were all like-minded to begin with or if they were like-minded because of the affect the art had on them, in the first place; either way, they were all effected by the art and were all like-minded, compassionate and caring people. And it was a beautiful thing!
And this beautiful act of compassion echoed all of the same kinds of acts of compassion that I’d ever felt, witnessed and experienced in my life this far. It gave me hope for a better human kind than what I’d seen. I thought of the museum of history that i had explored and the stories of segregation, abuse of power and slavery. It had sickened me and made me feel utter disgust in mankind. Made me feel hopelessness and helplessness for people I’d never even met. Now I sit, in beautiful silence. After a perfect day with another beautiful human being, who took the time to show me around this magical place.
I sit thinking of the entire week, the weekend and of the beauty I witnessed at this concert (at the convention). In this silence I feel peace and hope renewed. I feel sadness at having to leave this amazing place, and as always, cannot wait to return to another place that has touched my soul and brought me the peace and tranquility I so desperately needed after, yet another loss.
There is no other way to explain the past few months than this, “echoes, silence, patience and grace”. Echoes that remain after all of the 'Sunday mornings'; at the end of the beautiful experiences in the beautiful places I’ve travelled to. Silence; throughout those moments of solitude and thought, and thoughtful remembrance for what I have gained throughout each. Patience; to help me through months, weeks, days or moments when I am not as at peace or not experiencing as much beauty. Patience with others who aren’t ready to be in my life in such a way as I want or need them to be and patience with myself while I ride it out through the storms from within this thing I call my life. While I wait to once again experience that beauty and peace. And grace; a powerful, spiritual healing and sense of wellness and peace, felt even in chaos and throughout these losses. Were it not for the experiences, I wouldn't have experienced the losses, and yet; were it not for the experiences and the losses, I would not have experienced the patience and grace that I needed to get through them, and to truly experience, appreciate and love both myself, and life. And, as hard as it's been, it's been worth the wounds I got getting there.
Art by Tavares Strachan
You Belong Here
“There is a voice that doesn’t use words. Listen to it” – Rumi
I’ve been pressing my ear against the door of the universe for some time now. Trying to listen and figure out exactly what it is saying to me. With trips to the UK and North Carolina, and feeling the love and passion for these places, the people and in certain cases, specific people has made me wonder if I’m on the right path or if I’m meant to make another huge, life altering change. Most recently, after having X come to stay, I was thinking of packing everything up, selling my house and moving to the UK. Not strictly to be with him but because of my feelings about Scotland, the UK, and him.
I was a hot mess when I left Scotland, and couldn’t wait to return. Then, he came to stay for two weeks and I was an even hotter mess once again after he left. I thought it was all about loving him and losing him and I needed a change.
I had tried cancelling my Raleigh trip but couldn’t get my money back for my flights or Airbnb so, I went anyway despite the fact that my heart simply wasn’t in it. Until I got here. Then, being here; seeing the signs and listening to the voice that doesn’t use words, I realized there was something for me here. The first, or at least most obvious sign being given to me in bright neon; saying, “you belong here”, and then meeting a beautiful human at the same museum where this sign, a piece of art by someone with my same family name, was on display.
I had an unofficial tour guide give me a tour of Raleigh yesterday, and after my tour, and our subsequent chat, I felt even more ‘at home’. I was melancholy leaving North Carolina. I thought about staying longer but I had responsibilities to get home to; a house that needed heating and dogs that had seen me only sporadically since July. Despite what my gut instinct was telling me, and despite my feelings about this place I had to leave. I'd had a beautiful day. I was exhausted and didn't want to spoil it so, I stayed in and got some rest the night before I had to leave. I got up early in the morning, re-packed, cleaned and got ready to go. Sadly and with deep regret, I ordered an Uber to take me to the airport.
At the airport, I had trouble after trouble. Issue after issue. I had trouble finding the proper airline because it was an American airline but I was flying with a Canadian airline they partnered with. I had unexpected luggage fees I'd not accounted for because they're usually taken care of with this airline, and then my credit card wouldn't work in the machine to pay for the luggage. I had trouble with security, and later realized I could actually go through the, "trusted travellers" section of security but hadn't realized before. One thing after another, after another; making me question why I was leaving, in the first place. Then, when I went to buy some kitchy touristy stuff at the airport gift shop, the first hat I saw had a sticker on it that said, “Home State. Where you belong”.
If I was reading the signs right, there was something trying to keep me in North Carolina because there was something for me there. I felt it too. I felt it every single time I went to North Carolina; and this time, I felt it even more intensely because of the people I had met and the experiences I’d had while there. I was gutted at the idea of leaving. I cried on the plane from Norht Carolina to New York City. When I arrived at LaGuardia, NYC airport the connecting flight was late arriving. Again, making me think that maybe I should have stayed. That flight departed late, arriving late to Toronto (a new stop added by the airline within the past few days), so I rushed through customs trying to make it to this new connecting flight. Just as I arrived at the WestJet desk, and looked at the screen to see what gate I needed to migrate to for this flight, I read that it had been cancelled. Yet, another sign that I should have stayed. Another sign that I was leaving too much behind again. Another message from the universe or my inner voice saying, "you belong somewhere else". I felt like I was leaving home again.
I felt like I was always leaving something behind; everywhere I went, I gained something, fell in love with something and experienced something that I would take with me everywhere I went. But that also meant, leaving the place, itself I was always leaving something behind. I felt the loss every time too. But in order to lose something, I guess you need to have had something in the first place. If I hadn’t visited these places, I wouldn’t have lost these things but if I hadn’t of visited, I wouldn’t have had them to lose, in the first place. I realized that life is like that more often than we realize; that for every loss that we experience in our life, there's an initial gain. For every person who leaves, there's the experience of having had them as a part of your life.For every place I left, there was the experience of going; to visit or even to live.
There is no loss without having had something worth losing; having experienced something special that felt like a loss when we left or it left us. And just like every person you meet, and those who play roles in your life, leaving a piece of them behind with you when they go; so do you leave a piece of yourself with them. It’s the same with places; you leave a little piece of you everywhere you go and you take a little piece of it back with you when you leave. I’m taking a piece of Raleigh home with me. A little piece of it, in my pocket and in my heart. I left a little piece too. With the friends I visited and the new friends I made while there, and with my new tour guide.
Watching the leaves fall off the trees there earlier in the week, I thought about how I could learn a lot from trees; how we could all learn alot about letting go. About allowing the natural seasons of our life happen as they are meant. About realizing what is meant for us and what each season brings. Letting go of the things that are no longer meant for us at the time and letting each element of each season come to pass. About weathering the storms of winter and opening back up to the renewal and rejuvenation of each spring-like seasons in our life. About going with the flow of the seasons and not hanging onto things no longer meant for us.
This made me think about the things in my life that no longer fit me; or that either didn’t bring me joy, or actually brought me stress. I thought about my house and my ‘hometown’, and how I always felt upon returning home. It had lost its magic for me; it had been this way for a while. It had been this way since I’d travelled this year; been to and seen other places, met people who filled me up, and experienced things more suited to me. I had held on despite this feeling, because it was my ‘dream home’, that I had bought completely by myself, without a husband or partner. I had done so just to prove I could, I think. I loved it. It brought me joy for a while but now, it was a burden to me; a weight and something that brought with it, incalculable problems and issues. I needed to either sell it and downsize, or rent it and move. What was I holding on for? Like policing, I’d done it; I’d lived my dream and had what I had always wanted. I had experienced it. I didn’t need to hold on to it; if I did hold on to it too long, I knew it would poison me, corrupt me. Or I would corrupt it. I realized I didn’t want the life I had made for others anymore; for my kids and I had to decide what I was going to do. I needed to listen more carefully to the voice that didn't use words. Press my ear closer and harder against the door of the universe so, I could decide where to go from here. All I knew was that I was living a life that no longer fit me, and that life was short; and that given the finite length of time I had left to live it, that this was an unacceptable way to live.
