Toronto, Ontario August 3-10, 1978

 August 3-10, 1978 

Toronto

Spending time in the ‘big smoke’, Toronto, staying with someone who I thought might become more than ‘just a friend’.  Like most people, he’s working, so our time together is limited to evenings and weekends.  During the day I explore the city, or drive to nearby places – just exploring around.

 

One day to the Niagara Peninsula, where I stopped to watch a pair of hawks, gliding in large lazy circles way up in a bright blue sky.  Below them, in a field of grass, umbrella plants and blue-blue corn flowers I play a little flute.  They pay me no attention, although I feel quite sure that they can hear at least the higher-pitched notes.  

 

Another day an afternoon drive with my friend to Markham, his old hometown.  He regaled me with stories as we went – “and this is where, and this was when..."  That sharing of childhood memories, of what his family life was like, of the little hopes and dreams and fears he had as a kid, brought us closer, as sharing usually does.  But only for that time, only in that moment.  Once back in our current realities, he working, me traveling, we were once again acutely aware of the differences between us, and the distance that creates. We are on separate trajectories. It seems to me that this is a common occurrence in my generation, now in their mid to late 20’s, busy establishing careers, professions, reputations.  Relationships tend to be secondary, a side-line, taking a back seat to the more important business of ‘getting on’ with our lives. And our lives are often pretty fast-paced.  We work hard, we play hard.  We are almost always on the go.  We have brief encounters with others ‘en route’, but we’re often too preoccupied with our own issues, and moving too fast, that we don’t have, or don’t take, the time to slow down long enough to really connect with others in meaningful ways.  Relationships require time – a lot of time – and time is at a premium.

 

The next day I went on my own to the Royal Ontario Museum, ambling through Grecian, Mycenaean, and Byzantine relics, taking time to really look at the instruments, crafts – pottery, jewelry, fabrics – pieces of the lives of a people who lived so long ago. I try to imagine 2350 BC.  What might the earth have looked like then?  How different the landscapes, the climate? And who were the people who fashioned and used these tools, who built these monuments, who created these beautiful pieces?  How did they live?  What woman wore that necklace?  What were her hopes and fears?  Who was she? Wife, sister, mother, daughter?  As I wander and wonder I feel so inconsequential, so terribly unimportant.  I am just another speck in time.  And so what difference does it make, really whether I connect with this person or that, or no one at all?  What does it matter how I feel today, tomorrow?  It is all so incredibly inconsequential in the total scheme of things.  And even, I realize, in the context of my own life. We are all flitting in and out, like butterflies, tasting this flower and that.  And then, we’re done.

 

Time to hit the road again, and spend some time alone... .  When people ask me, and they do, “aren’t you lonely?” I’m not sure how to properly respond.  I appreciate their concern – from their perspective, based on their experience, they think they would be lonely, and so surely must I be too.  It seems, in the ‘modern, Western world’ at least, we’re not accustomed to spending much time on our own.  Engaging in solitary endeavours, communing with nature, or being idle – just being, nothing more.  So no, I’m not lonely.  I am choosing to spend time alone – and that is different from being lonely.  “But aren’t you bored?” they ask.  No, I’m never bored.  External and internal worlds are far too rich and varied, and far too expansive, to permit the luxury of boredom.  There is so much to explore, so much to see and do and wonder about.