This year, however, I can't say I worried at all. I was happily sloshed with Shane and 17 of our beautiful predominantly climbing friends. We tobogganed down the ski hill prior to midnight to bring in the New Year at the mountain pub. Post midnight, around 2 o'clock in the morning, it was time to drunkenly clammer up the ski hill. I am fast, so I out-clammered everyone. At the corner of my eye, I saw trees. They were off the side of the run, and I decided I wanted to rub my cheek against the bark of one single tree. I made my way over to the side of the run until I fell hip-deep in snow. I tried. I really tried, would make my way on top of the snow, get up only to sink back in, let out a shout, flail around in the direction of lovely trees. I gave up. I crawled back to the ski run and while continuing to clammer towards the cabin where we were to sleep, I spoke to the trees. I told them how beautiful I think they are, how much I respect them, and how glad I am they are part of this world. Goddammit, I've become such a fucking hippie, I can't bare it sometimes.
2010 was the year of the Tiger. And I am a Tiger. I'm not sure exactly what that entails according to Chinese astrologers, but it was a year chock full. Farnia and I had our second big fight, but this time instead of not speaking for two years, we didn't talk to each other for only three weeks. I went to Canmore thrice. My aunt has history there and maybe I wanted some too, or maybe I was just looking for a reason to drive. Whatever, it's ok, it's ok, it's ok, except for those two grouses who got slammed on the highway by the truck behind us that one time. That was it for me. When those grouses got smashed I decided it was a sign. Aside from their premature and unnatural deaths disturbing me, they have always been sacred in my mind, charming little town and mountain men and green lakes or none at all. I love grouses.
I stopped eating meat for as many reasons as I have had people tell me I am ridiculous. I'm ok with that. I'm quite alright with being anemic for this reason, the reason being lack of iron, and I'm on it. I thought this summer that maybe I felt understood for the first time in a long time when I returned to Shane after a three hour absence. He was laying on a bed, plunking at keys on his laptop. He looked up at me all happy and lazy and asked me where the fuck I had been. I said I wasn't quite sure but for a while had enjoyed running my hands over the metal railings of coolers in a grocery store. They felt so cold and smooth and good, I told him. He stared at me for a few long seconds, and then began to laugh so deeply and sincerely that I felt quite certain for the first time in a long time I was being understood. I've never looked at him the same since that day. I've never laughed with a man so much in my whole life. If ever the presence of someone new could be considered a dear, dear gift, it would be him. He is that gift.
I wrote about yoga, I practiced it, I lived, ate, breathed and shat thinking about yoga. I read Walden by Henry David Thoreau and I'll never be the same. I lived in the back of my truck for stretches of time in remote towns I'd never set foot in, not once not ever. I picked up a beautiful, saintly hitchiker who was filthy and smelled worse. I read Jack Kerouac. I read Siddhartha. I mailed my teacher a package with a letter on a few Starbucks napkins. On his envelope I drew mountains. I wept when I saw them outside of Calgary. I made my biggest summit on a day full of sun and little jewel blue lakes at the bottom and I did headstands up there and big backbends so that I'd be upside down looking over the expanse.
I saw Farnia off at the airport where she departed for India. I learned to waggle my head to make her laugh. Jen, perhaps the friend I have known longest in life, has become one of my best friends. Jessica and I, no matter how little time we spend together, will always be great friends. Every time I started driving she'd write. She tells me I'm crazy and that when I have kids and go a little nuts she'll come over, tell the children they're going to spend some time at Auntie Jessie's and then proceed to tell me I have two days to get my shit together. I love this. I love this maybe more than anything I've written in this brief summation on the year of the Tiger. I am kind of crazy, and I can't predict my own behaviour, and I've met the most beautiful people, crossed paths and said goodbye, gotten all bendy and weepy and full of regret, and I've let it go somewhat, some things, I've written letters, I've read books, I've been in love with words and ideas and the bodies of men and women and the way they think in this life.
I can't be too sure about anything. There are still no answers. Still none. There are going to be very few I'm beginning to see, if any. But there is vibrancy, and experience, and experiences to come. So many beautiful people. And it's been good. It's been really, truly, blessedly good.
Listen Here -- Message Stick by Xavier Rudd (live)
