wanting it

Thinking time. Is too much of such a thing unhealthy? I wonder. I can see in myself the ability to immerse myself in thinking so deeply, reality is blurred.

It's a stifling September day. September. Time swims away. The summer already fades, the mornings crisp with that delicious coolness that speaks of autumn.

I've been working hard, and this weekend, the Labour Day long-weekend, offers a much-needed respite. Work has a frantic pace lately - spending very little time on any project, pulled in a million directions. The highlight of last week (and I am sure of the coming two) is being part of training sessions focusing on water and water filtration and improvement projects. The issue of global access to safe drinking water seems to fall away under all of the current madness of the world we live in. Yet, diarrhoeal diseases are one of the world's most devastating killers, behind only respiratory diseases and HIV/AIDS. It is good to participate in the sessions, learning how I can better communicate this issue, the intricacies of tackling access to improved water globally, the importance of teaching health and hygiene, culturally appropriately.

This subject, along with a host of my own personal issues, I have been mulling over. I get in these moods where even speaking one sentence pulls too much energy from me, where any social interaction is a bore, a pressure. Often it's connected to my spiritual well-being. When I am drained, nothing to offer, feeling like I have little love to give. We're having someone billeting with us before she heads overseas for a 6-month contract, and it seems like in the past few days its taken all of my effort to summon up the simplest of conversational responses.

It's easy to feel like no-one understands when I am in these moods, but I was reminded this week of how many people in vastly different circumstances feel the same. A friend sent me a beautiful, poignant email, describing her struggles with the pressure of her culture and that feeling of social incompatibility and loneliness.

"It seems like the farther I detach from them, the less they care of me and the faster they forget about my existence."

Her thoughts, so similiar to mine, made me mourn the distance between us. Too many people, too far away. There's no glamour in having oceans between you and your most beloved friends. On the heals of this thought, another. What really holds me to Canada? What are the bonds here? Mom, dad, brother, grandmother. That is one short list. Of course, Canada would be my comfort zone, but Martin completely shed his comfort zone, left what he held dear. I am beginning only in the last while comprehending the sacrifices he and others have made for him to be with me here. The sacrifical love of a mother and father knows few bounds.

It's reached the hottest part of the day, too hot to sit huddled over the keyboard. I think I shall bury my nose in a book for the remainder of the afternoon, remembering that no man is an island.

PS Drew, haven't checked out that band, but will, however, I am not much for 'borrowing' as certain members of the Aspegren household have strong feelings on that.