N.26 Friendship

There ain’t nothing like the warmth of friendship after a long journey. Coming back to a place where open arms abound, opportunities are everywhere and the river of life is flowing strong is truly a blessing.

I am in my hometown of Montréal and people keep asking me how hard it is to come back to so-called ‘’reality’’.

Well my friend, have you ever put on a warm glove in the frisky morning air of early winter? Yes, just like that.

I don’t make up many stories in my mind anymore. Wherever I am, I am.
There is no tension. I guess some of us are still missing the point that, wherever we find ourselves, the only place is now. That’s where the party is at and will ever be anyway.

I get this overwhelming feeling that I did not really leave and in a way, I never truly did.
I’ve travelled around only to be in a whole lotta nows. ‘’Now’’ here or ‘’now’’ are kind of the same. As if in one big intemporal bubble, spatiality is just another concept we hold on to in hopes of tying together this inexplicable experience we named reality.

Pardon my roaming around with words. Let’s not make up too many stories about freedom and the art of living. There’s much more to learn from roasting a toast in the morning than a few written words on a page.

Back to the subject at hand: friendship.

To me, it is one of the greatest riches that any man, woman and non-binary peeps can ever be given. I’ve heard, many times before, that it’s hard to get one true friend. I never really got that saying.

It’s as if a farmer would plant seeds in only a few places because he is afraid that all other places won’t bear fruit and expects to sow a garden that encompasses the whole field come the end of summer.

As I am concerned, I’m no hesitant farmer.
I’ve thrown seeds of friendship up in the air, given whole bags of kinship at first glance and considered people as if they were life long friends from the start.

Life’s too short to hold out on love. One day, when the reaper’s taxi comes at the door, we may regret not sharing enough.

Don’t you want to come home to a luscious garden filled with delicious fruits? Or better yet, don’t you want the future generation to rise in an environment full of grace?

I sure do.

N.25 The Enigma of Return

And so it goes, my grand travel adventure comes to a conclusion amidst a peculiar temporal fluidity. As if I’d never left, I find myself in the same places being a whole other man.

My vision is fresh and my choices are now imbued with a freedom from ancient concepts.

I’m rediscovering the daily.

The same drop of water from my old apartment’s water faucet taps to the same rhythm, the endless roadworks and the same passerbys with fleeing eyes at the sight of my huge smile.

I’m not sure exactly what I’ve done for this but I am coming back to Montréal in an ocean of love. I am welcomed as a great guest and I’m getting seduced to get back into the city’s thriving cultural life.

The friendships that bloom in my existence are one of the grandest riches that a man can ever be given. I am truly moved.

I am back in town only to find a large garden. I do not recall planting so many flowers.
Maybe they’ve sowed themselves?

It’s quite unique to roam around in the city’s streets in the fall to imbibe the atmosphere. I’m playing the game of smile, salute and look in the eyes.

The people seem tired and thrown off by a stranger’s smile.
I have hopes to find reciprocity of joy in the coming days.

And so, I find myself in my town, back in Québec’s culture, tango dancing with the mysteries of what shall present itself as a new life. I have so many friends to see, it’ll take me at least a month to get through them all.

My travels have brought me this trait that I now choose joy in my heart irrespective of what’s happening outside of me.

We have the freedom to create our internal environment and to ascribe meaning or not to the events of our lives.

The human experience is a malleable clay. By our actions, we can mold it the way we choose.

With this newfound freedom, I’m writing on the balcony warmed by the morning sun.
Here I am, back into Quebec’s day to day.

I take a deep breath and I tell myself:

‘’It’s good to be alive’’