Trip to Bountiful

"The secret of change is to focus all of your energy, not on fighting the old, but on building the new." (Socrates, classical Greek philosopher)

            Life can be so interesting, if you take the time to pay attention. No matter the amount of fury the day may bring, if you slow things down and take notice, the world around you is full of the most aesthetically pleasing and wonderful things. This state of matter is just so damn incredible. From the butterfly to the universe, there is beauty and wonder in almost everything one sees. You cannot help but be amazed at the simplicity of it all. You cannot help but be amazed at the complexity of it all. If you dare, you can almost capture time. You can sit yourself down, dead in your tracks, and watch it flow past you. There is much to see when you become more aware. If you really wish to stop and smell the roses, you can in an instant. How you view this world is always your choice. Most people like the flashes, as the world speeds by them. Some people, like myself, we prefer to watch the world go past rather slowly. It can be hard to see clearly through a blur. Whether it’s a building being built or a child growing up, time allows us to observe both change and evolution. We grow as the world itself grows all around us. Life is so beautiful, especially in slow motion.

            The whole idea of building the CN tower in the downtown core activated the imagination of almost every child in the Greater Toronto Area (GTA). As if the beginning of a tale to be told, “construction on the CN Tower began on February 6, 1973, with massive excavations at the tower base for the foundation.” From this date until it opened to the public on June 26, 1976, the CN Tower was a work in progress. Although initially I was blinded from the panorama by distance and terrain, time and heavy labour insured an eventual view. Over a three year period, you could witness the birth of a creation, even from afar. There was great promise, and fanfare, despite the scope of the project. The almost 20 km stretch between my home in the Toronto suburb of Don Mills and the structure’s location in the heart of the city of Toronto did little to inhibit my daily pleasure. It started out small, then it slowly got tall. It was like the city had sported a hard on. Bit by bit, the monolith to be rose from the proverbial ashes of the Canadian National railway yards located near Front Street West and Yonge. As I watched the construction reach up into the sky, I too grew and changed and crept towards adulthood. Every day I would stop after school, or take a moment on the weekend, to spy on the concrete carrot sprouting up in the distance. It became a ritual, a touchstone that I still occasionally cling to. Every time I journey into the Big Smoke, the tower still greets me. It has been there so long, it is difficult to remember the skyline without it. It is a cherished friend, one that brings memories and melancholy. It seems so much has changed, I have changed. Essentially, the tower has not. While they added an impressive light show a few years ago to most of the exterior, it is faithfully the same. When I see it, or touch it, or go in it, I am filled with comfort, like you find with an old friend or your warm puppy. It is a reminder of who I have been and what I have seen. It is a beacon and always has been for me. It calls of home and childhood and long ago.

            I have to admit, watching the dead gather moss has become a bit of a habit for me. I don’t do it every day but I still do it when the occasion arises. Usually when I am visiting the Avondale Cemetery in Stratford, Canada. I have been visiting it for over 22 years, faithfully caring for the grave of a lost love. In my mind’s eye I can see the way things started out, from my point of view. On February 18^th, 1995, there were very few gravestones in the area surrounding my partner’s place of rest. The north corner was mostly field at this time. On its edge, a wooded ravine and an abundance of trees. In fact, there were not many markers throughout this part of the cemetery, at least not in the immediate vicinity. He took his place among the stones and the flowers and the grass. A few days later, I took the time to look around at who else was here. Just behind, in the next lane, rests Scott Miller, a young man who met his end in his late teens. The headstone is beautiful, the photo of him on the facade quite haunting. For most of this time, someone took such good care of the site. You could tell how much he meant to them, the display was quite obvious. In the last few years, the care has waned and his garden turned to weed. I understand his family moved away. No one visits him anymore, that much is obvious. The plot has turned from well groomed and endearing, to barren and empty and sad. For more than two decades I have watched the demise. I can see it like a movie, snapshots of every time I paid attention to it. Like the grounds all around it, the change has been paced but it has changed all the same. The fields are full now, riddled with new markers and new landscaping. The crematorium wall has grown out of nothing. The forest and trees have been replaced with lovely little homes, speckled about the outer perimeter. A Christian elementary school fills in the last of that green space. Hundreds of new and modern headstones now litter the grounds. I try to visit my late partner at least once a month (or so). I still take flowers and I still include a card. Nothing has changed for me. I doubt that anything ever will. I can’t just abandon someone I loved so much in the past. The world of Avondale is different these days but somehow it remains pretty much the same. It’s just more cluttered, and much less exclusive, but it is still quaint and peaceful. Apparently, people are just dying to get in.

            I was in my early 30s when I first met my current partner Benjamin. He was in his early 20s but the 12-year difference made little difference. We remain together despite the trials of life and love and outside forces working against us. The 18-plus years we have spent as a couple has often brought great change for both of us. For me, watching  him age, watching him develop as a person has been a conscious act on my part.. Although only a few short years after the death of my first partner, it was clear right away that we were meant to be. He was so young, so innocent (relatively speaking). He had a full head of hair, was vernal in nature and although he had suffered some, just like the rest of us, he seemed uncorrupted by the world. His genesis was observed in slow motion. Day after day, week after week, year after year I have witnessed the metamorphosis. It dangles before me, constantly calling for me to take notice. Once a timid, censured and fragile young man, he slowly warped into a responsible partner, loyal friend and the love of my life. Sometimes his development made me feel like a parent more than a lover. In snapshots I can recall the moments that mean the most. In slow motion I can see him. I have watched him become an adult and I have watched him become a grown man. It is strange, the story of our years together flows in my mind like something more akin to Instagram than memory. Sometimes I set it to music, and I mean my music, not his. Since change is a process and not an event, the layout of my memories corresponds to the actual transformation, not just the 18 years of observation. I have watched him be joyous and I have watched him sigh. I have witnessed his suffering and I have witnessed his development. From the loss of his childhood dog to the loss of several family members, I have seen him through the bad times. From the day I first told him “I love you” to the day he started working at BlackBerry, I have seen him through the good times. Each event  paved a new way for him to walk, a new way for him to move forward whether he liked it or not. It has almost been like watching someone put a puzzle together over a 20-year period. Every day a new piece finds its place. Slowly, so slowly, one goes into another and another until it finally is finished but really, it is never finished. Eventually, you get a picture of what you have accomplished but it by no means is complete. Still, you can get a good idea of how things have come together and what your project looks like now. It has been a challenge, all this watching and waiting, but it has been worth every pain, every joy, every reason. It has all happened so slowly. It has happened nonetheless. He didn't even pace himself, he just let the pieces fall where they may.

"Change is not an event, it's a process."

(Cheryl James, American musician)

            Everyone has a choice when it comes to how they view their lives. Some people ignore the lessons, ignore the mosaic, the experiences. Each day and each moment passes before their very eyes. They never come to understand because they just don't pay attention. They end up repeating because they do not learn. Others do not celebrate life, they wallow in their life. All is tragic, all is negative, all is for naught. It matters little any good that may come with each day. They focus only on the struggle, on the damage, and their cup is always half empty. Some people choose to embrace the world around them. They cherish what they have because they have taken notice. They pay attention so they recognize the details. Life is not perfect for them, rather it is perfectly flawed. Their cup is not just half full, it overflows. They think in terms of moments rather than minutes. Each day, for them, is a trip to bountiful, a journey to a better place. Life is for the living, not just for the existing. To take each moment and to live each moment is easier said than done but you should do it anyway. God knows how I try. Slowly absorbing life around me isn’t from habit or spontaneous reaction. I consciously attempt to see my life as it happens, not just from the rear view. I struggle daily not to think in terms of yesterday or today or tomorrow. Each experience is captured for itself, not simply for when it happened. My experience as an observer has served me well. I can actually visualize the passing of time. I can picture progress and development, and even evolution, for most of the things that have occurred throughout my days. Every day I get on an imaginary bus, I pay the daily fare and I sit down in the same place, in the same location. I stare out the window and I watch it happen. The trip is always worth it.

Photos

CN Tower

Toronto Ontario

July 2014

Avondale Cemetery

Stratford Ontario

June 2012

Happy Birthday

Hagersville Ontario

October 1978

Sources

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/CN_Tower