Sunday, January 31, 2010

like spinning plates

i really want to thank you for all you have given me. i was very confused for a long time but somehow, the one thing i seemed to always get right was finding wonderful people to know, and to love. some of you are nearby, others are hundreds, thousands of miles away, some even suggest that there are planets between us, but i treasure all of the words you have spoken, all the ideas you have shared, and all the wisdom you have imparted. i am really so honoured to have called you my friends: people who have understood me, and humoured me, and gentled me, and given me a rise, challenged me, and made me change my mind even as i made you think. you have hugged me, and smiled at me, and cuffed me, and enfolded me in punctuation. you have put things in perspective and i will always feel truly blessed for the time spent in your company.



we can't always talk to the people we want to, when we want to. there are a myriad of reasons for this, and if i think back on my life so far, there are a lot of people i have lost that i still miss, and wish i could talk to because sometimes that person is just the right person, the one who will make it all right. i'm not going to try to pretend that i'm good at losing people, or that it's easy to let go even when it's for the best, or that i'm never disappointed when the person i want can't be there. i am trying to accept that no matter hard i try, i will lose some things, some people: it's inevitable. it's difficult to keep people in your life, juggling needs, knowing how hard it all is to balance, but friendship is like spinning plates.

i can remember when my father died, riding the bus home from peterborough, stewing the whole while, needing to talk, standing on the subway platform, knowing i wouldn't make it if i didn't cry my pain right then. and calling my friend debbie, who was the person i wanted most to talk to, and the wash of sheer relief that she was there at the end of the line, and the words could tumble out, to somebody who would understand, and listen. i will never forget that joy in the midst of all that pain; she was simply there when i needed her, and i was safe, in that moment when i wasn't so sure i ever would be again.

yesterday i left a message in the ghost town called myspace, to somebody who almost seems an angel to me, a dream, an egret in flight. she swept in through a bunch of raucous voices, and brought serenity to us all. she was filled with pain herself, and no stranger to loss, yet somehow defied it, and beamed her heart down on us, and i feel so incredibly lucky and privileged to know her. she paved the way to accord because she made us feel loved, and we all loved her, and so learned to love each other. and so i wrote her: partly i just had to let her know it, how much she had given me in the heyday of our friendship, and partly i wanted more. i wanted to know that she was okay: that things had improved for her, that she was thriving and being, and doing. and i wanted to tell her i finally know after all this time that i'm going to be okay, and maybe even better than okay. and i don't know if she'll get the message. i really hope she does, and even if she can't talk to me, for whatever reason, that she knows i love her, and i'm so proud that she's my friend.

and after i left that message, i knew that there were so many people i wanted to tell the same thing, to say thank you to, and so i began writing this. i realized i wanted to let everybody know how grateful i am that i have known them, and have talked to them, laughed with them and learned from them. there's a list of people in my head (i'm not going to name them all out because i'm not accepting an award here), and even though the people who come by this blog because they love me are on it, there's plenty of people in my heart that may never see this. i like to imagine that they might think of me someday while they're sitting at a computer, and perhaps do a search for me, and find the message that i headed this post with, and that they smile because they know i mean them too.

i find myself, as ever, fascinated by people: reaching out to them, old and new, and wanting to hear their voices. an old friend came to visit at christmas, and we curled up on the couch, and had cookies and tea, and the time slipped away too quickly; i emailed another of our old classmates, and had one of the most satisfying conversations i've had in a long time, because his opinion has always mattered to me, has shaped me. time went by, and that was okay until, all of a sudden it wasn't, and i needed to tell him things, and he, me.

how really full in my heart i feel, and the world is a little brighter for me because i know now that some conversations that have lagged aren't necessarily over. there are other voices i really want to hear, and right now they're still, and i wonder if i'll ever hear them again. i hope i will. and if i don't hear them again, at least they know that they were cherished.


  1. there is no doubt that everyone who has ever known you has much to thank you for. i know i have. so, i thank you, mo. for everything. we have leaned on each other's shoulders, huddled together in the darkness, both cybernetically and for a few wonderful ff days, and now we shall share the light. how wonderful that we're both seeing the first rays of that light at the same time. i'm blessed to know you.
    always your kindred and friend x

  2. Sweet, sweet Mo.
    From the very first "why I oughtta" to the more recent hours of rapid fire conversation on your couch, you have been a dear and true friend. Even though we've only been friends for what...3 years?...I think you will always feel like home to me. :) Thank YOU. xo.

  3. I feel this way too Mo about friends that have disappeared over the years. I still mourn them. There is nothing better though than a friend that even when you haven't seen or spoken to them in years, when they do reappear, it's as if no time at all has passed. Friendships should always be like that old, worn, comfy t-shirt that slips on so easily, makes you feel instantly comfortable and relaxed.

    I know that you are one of those friendships for me. One I will treasure and one that I will always be able to slip into, no matter how much time elapses between our meetings.

    Much love. XO

  4. As I passed by to witness this, it likely shall be so.

  5. thank you again. :) and it is awfully nice timing, isn't it?

  6. and thank you again. :) i love that that couch allows for friend old and new, and always true, to curl up and talk. in fact, it may be why i'm so attached to the darn thing even though it is falling apart. thank you for reminding me it's not the couch that makes the home. :)

  7. kerry, when i'm sad about the people that i have lost along the way, either through the vagaries of time, distance, and other constants in life, i keep thinking about those spinning plates, and how it's a miracle we ever keep any aloft, let alone moving. i've shattered a few plates in my time, but i'm glad to say i was wise enough to bust out the corelle before i met you. :)

  8. thank you matt l. for coming by and giving me hope. add yourself to the list. :)

  9. What? No! No no no no no! You can't try to love me out of politeness Mo, that's ridiculous. First you would have to befriend me, and then appreciate my good qualities, and then be overwhelmed by my bad qualities, and then resolve to never talk to me again, compensating for any subsequent guilt by constructing a balancing idealization of whatever merits you felt I might possess. I just don't feel that we ever really had a chance to go through that process.

    But, thank you.

  10. you're determined to make me like you in spite of yourself, matt. here you are challenging me, and giving me words, and they're on the checklist right? and i'm CANADIAN. how can you not expect me try to love you out of politeness? :P

    thanks for writing. it means a lot. :)