What do you see when your eyes close? The day turns pink and the night goes. What do you feel when you lick the horizon? Tantalizing tangy rainbows dance on my tongue.
It stays only for a few moments but lasts for years inside my heart. Each time it arrives, each time it goes, a never-ending cycle of joy that grows and grows.
It can’t stop, won’t stop, no matter what, so some days, I’m like, “What the fuck.” Because it’s so beautiful, breathtaking and mesmerizing, I look around and feel so found.
Who is this for, these words here. Just me, only me, but maybe you too. I am inspired not by what you want to hear, but what I need to say, let’s keep that clear.
I’ll walk this walk, follow my feet, and listen only to these beats. I’ll watch the water and the sun as they call me, it’s so much fun.
I get my kicks from storms and sticks produced by my friends, Mr. Weather and Miss Tree. Their words bring truth like not nothing else, we laugh and ponder things that light the sky.
I sing and watch the berries bleed into my sink, after I soak them to the brink. I dip them in chocolate heating on the stove, because today’s menu requires no think.
I wander hoping to not talk to a soul, it fills my cup and then a bucket. I release the excess, and say “fuck it” anonymous today please, that’s the goal.
These words fit just like new shoes, I must litter the pages as I speak in hues. I want to dance and flutter without hearing you mutter, but it’s ok if you tend to sometimes stutter.
Today was such a good day, my seagull told me the funniest joke. I spit out my tea and thought I might choke, is there a better way?
I sing to myself and release it all, I look at the gifts that surround us and it pisses me off that you take them for granted, so all of your takings, I use, and let them know.
That I appreciate you, and you and you. I see you, hear you, know you, follow you. I give to you, watch you, ask you, I listen. Everything they take, I give back.
I will equal the field when things unbalance, I will let you know that you are loved, I will remind you that you are seen, I will embody what you need and flow it to you with speed.
I feel the boom inside your bloom, and there’s lots of room. My passion will restore you, that you can always assume.
Fall is so fucking beautiful especially in Vancouver. I want to drink the sky’s velvet blue coat until I choke. I want to eat the leaves, crunch the colours like candy corn until I bleed.
I was on the bus last week and I told the man sitting beside me how unusually beautiful, vibrant and stunning fall was this year. Much more so. He then began to explain to me that, in fact I did not feel what I do as a result of the colours this year and the way fall is expressing itself. That there really isn’t anything different about this year, it’s just my eyes have adjusted coming from Ontario where the colours are always very exuberant in the fall.
I thought to myself, “No, actually, what I feel is valid. What I see is relevant, and what I know is true.”
Why is there always a fucking man trying to correct how you feel and to explain your emotions back at you like what you see and how you feel about what you see isn’t in fact, real, that, “you feel that way because of this, not that.”
Really?
We kept chatting, he talked about his wife and him moving to North Van from Ontario after COVID. I kept looking out the bus window eye daggers penetrating every yellow, orange and red tree as we moved through Stanley Park. A view that always has been more satisfying and fulfilling to me than a man.
As we approached our stop at Park Royal, he grabs my hand, looks at me deep in my eyes, pauses, and tells me my smile is nothing he’s ever seen before (shocker) and asks can he meet me again to talk more about the beauty of B.C.
It’s always my smile that gets them, sucks them in. It’s always the married ones. I thanked him for the compliment, and politely declined his offer. I’d rather sit through nine root canals and an appendectomy than sit next to a man who wants to correct the way I see the world.
I thought I was doing okay. I eat insanely clean, I think clean (for the most part), I recycle, I compost, I read, I stay informed on everything that will help me stay alive, I vote, I invest in relationships instead of stocks and boats, I have passions (three: writing, music and nature), I like helping people, I am kind and compassionate and empathetic, I give, I listen, I say no, I walk everywhere, I yoga, I put non toxic serums and creams on my face, I floss daily (and use a water pik), no SLS, parabens, EDTA, PFOA’s, BPA’s, I take vitamin D and magnesium, I practice stoicism, mindfulness, I meditate, I sleep pretty well, I have great friends, I love where I live, ok, you get it.
Except it’s all gone to shit. Because my purses are full of mold spores, I’m eating off of plates jacked full of lead and my tea bags are bursting forth a microplastic frenzy into every cup of deliciously creamy rooibos I make. Oh, and my B vitamin fortified almond milk is giving me panic attacks (I recently switched milks and now I’m fine…ish).
I hope someone in the year 2226 reads this and thinks, “Huh, I wonder why humanity spent so much money and time on trying to kill themselves faster, and also wrote books and did podcasts about how to do things to live longer. Were they confused? Fucked up? This is odd. I’m so glad we don’t have these problems now. That must have been a rough time to be alive.”
Yes, there are worse things in life than this. Far more awful tragedies and occurrences and events and things happening that probably rank higher on the to-do list of things we need to fix and work on, so please don’t think I’m not aware that this is a relatively first world problem. I studied Sociology, lots of it. I know what’s up. For the most part.
Last month I started cutting open my tea bags and using only the loose-leaf tea through a strainer into my mug. Because apparently, I’m killing myself faster with all the microplastics found in tea bags. I only drink tea, a shit ton of it. Herbal. No caffeine. True story.
Great, I feel better. Using only loose-leaf tea now. But, there are also microsplastics in take-away cups from all cafés and tea places. Starbucks sprays the shit out of the inside of their cups, so does everywhere else, why do you think the cup just doesn’t disintegrate from the hot liquid? Ya. Microplastics. I want to enter peri and menopause with relatively few issues, (is this even possible nowadays though? I still think it is) as well as just try and help my liver and kidneys and skin by reducing the intake of the things they’re all working their butts off to help me get rid of. Thanks guys, I see you.
I’ve got the microplastic tea thing covered, I have a reusable BPA free mug I bring with me at all times now, but, the tea bags from Starbucks, or wherever, yup, full of nylon (nylon!), nanoplastics lodging themselves into my organs. Don’t even get me started on Celestial Seasonings and Tetley, or Stash or anything other than Traditional Medicinals who make their tea bags out of stuff that’s safe to come in contact with a human body.
Ok so that’s fine, I solved this problem. I don’t need to get my rooibos tea latte from Breka anymore, I gave up caffeine, I can do this. I’m a loose-leaf tea gal now, full on, straight up, cold turkey, let’s do this. I can keep it loose. This goes well with my vibe.
What’s the next one? Oh, the mugs and the plates and the bowls I eat all of my healthy things off of, everything I put my food on, ya, it’s slathered in a glaze that has levels of lead and cadmium that isn’t deemed safe to consume. Pottery Barn, Williams Sonoma, Anthropolgie, Pier One, HomeSense, (basically everywhere you can buy dishes) have all been slammed for their dishware testing positive for “safe” levels of lead. I do not want any lead. Period.
It sometimes makes me laugh that I thought I was being healthy drinking my ginger tea out of my cute little purple and white surfboard mug from David’s tea. “What’s for breakfast Emma?” Fucking microplastics and lead.
Want to know what else is fantastic? There is no safe level of lead exposure for the human body. I’ve been excitedly filling myself with lead for, oh I dunno, my entire life? And microplastics. And want to know something else pretty fabulous? When I quit caffeine, I upped my 90-100% dark chocolate consumption. It’s why I’m up right now at 12:22am sitting here typing this. I’m pms’ing too so I had a boat load of chocolate for dinner after my meal inside my lead laden bowl. Brussel sprouts and carrots drizzled with EVOO, dash of pink salt and a side of lead. If you read my last post you know, I love sides.
I sometimes, feel like I just can’t fucking win, you know? Some would say, “you are winning Emma, you’re way ahead of most people.” Am I though? And I don’t really care if I am ahead or behind, what does that even mean? End of the day that matters not. It does feel slightly though, that I’m on this treadmill running trying to catch up to, not dying sooner than I’d like to. You feel me?
We humans keep coming up with all these ideas, let’s toxify ourselves to death. I secretly think this is a form of population control.
September turned into a tea replacing frenzy. I spent three hours one night, literally cutting open all of my tea bags and putting the loose leaf tea into nicely labeled individual lead free glass jars. Do I have too much time on my hands? Apparently not enough now!
September was also all about figuring out why the hell my hall closet smells like mold. My Mom and I figured it out together because her closet in her apartment also smelled the same. We have two of the same purses from a very well known Canadian purse and backpack company that, yup, full on, are made with certain material that very happily traps moisture like, that’s it’s only job. I’m serious, these purses more so than any other bag I have ever owned just smell terrible.
So, we emptied them. Sprayed them violently with the strongest vinegar solution that exists because apparently this will help get rid of the mold spores and thus, bring down the smell. It isn’t just this company. Lots of backpacks and purses depending on the material do this. But I had never experienced a smell like this from a bag…ever. The vinegar thing worked but, it’s only a matter of time before I’ll need to repeat this procedure I’m pretty sure.
I go back to my theory of population control. The more mold my body harbours, the more microplastics, the more lead, the faster I degrade. Not cool with that.
October is all about dishware. I found a list online of all the safe lead and cadmium free dishware brands and there’s great stuff online to help me make this transition as smooth as possible. I’m sad though, I have attachments to certain bowls and mugs. I live alone, single, not even a cat anymore, and so, my cozy bowls and mugs, comfort. I mean I’m still starved for conversation, (hence the blog) but, they do give me something. Gave me something. Past tense. It’s over.
It’s ok, I’m good at break-ups and going cold turkey. Sort of. I will find a more suitable bowl that is less toxic. Toxic relationships are no bueno anyway. This is better for everyone.
But! One of the most exciting parts of this dishware chaos, is…that, I plan on taking a hammer, a bat, or whatever hard and impacting object I can find and smashing the shit out of every plate, cup, bowl, dish, every lead laced item, so no one ever will get their hands on my lead dishes and be exposed to such bullshit. Sure, I could give them away, sell them on Marketplace but, I cannot contribute to this. I am a protector and healer of humans. I bring the light, not the dark.
I wonder what November will be. Kind of intrigued. At the rate I’m going, there will be something. Stay tuned.
