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Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Paradise, Paved. A month ago, July 15, 2011, I was asked to leave the farm. The official story is that the farm owners have had a family upheaval and need the room.
In July of 2008, I was finally convinced to move from my home in Calgary, Alberta, to start a new life on the farm in Victoria. This convincing took awhile, but was at last accomplished, and I left for Vancouver Island in December 2008. Farm chores, happy dogs, owning a horse . . . in many aspects it was a lifelong dream come true.
But not all dreams last. Useless to say, now, that if I'd been told I could make my home on the farm only as long as it was convenient for the housemates, that would have changed matters considerably.
Indeed, now, the only thing to do is celebrate what was good, like the farm lifestyle, the retraining as a yoga teacher, meeting new friends. And adjust to the new circumstances while planning ahead.
Heartbreak and loss happen to many, if not most of us. If I think about the survivors in Japan and Oslo, whose 2011 can also be filed under "Never Again," I can put my own grief into perspective. Yet it is real grief. And I refuse to apologize for that.
I had written a previous post listing the particulars of how this heartbreak was brought about, and was confronted this morning by one of the instigators about its tone and content. I can't tell you how tempting it was to say something flippant and fuck-offish. But that's giving in to my darker instincts. Hatred only wants more. So I deleted the post and have replaced it with this. It's not the whole story, of course.
I'm reminded again of one James Richardson's 10-second Aphorisms: "Time heals. By taking even more." I don't know how long it'll be before I feel more balanced, or happy. But while this has definitely wrecked my summer, or perhaps my year, it's not going to wreck my life.