In the eye of the tornado

There is so much -so much to do, so much on which to catch up... feels like I'm in a wormhole getting swept to some destination and I'm just being carried to wherever it is. The control-freak in me is not a fan. But well, sometimes that side needs to just shut up and take one for the team. The team refers to the rest of me. And the team has a lot of things with which it is dealing, so hopefully a little faith will carry me through unharmed. The last couple of days have been rather zone-y for me... I've had no sense of time or space or imminence, even as I pull late nights to successfully meet my deadlines. I'm just kind of in an infinite swirl. And there is beauty and love and kindness and connection, and communion with my real self. I feel antsy and anxious one moment, and in a dynamic serenity the next; I have little appetite and little sleep... I'm so restless. Is that an existential restlessness, like knowing something big is going to happen to you or to the world, but having to wait for it even though part of you is impatiently shouting "the big thing is going to happen"... except you're not sure what that "big thing" is. Have you ever had that before?

I would like to just curl up with some hot cocoa on a couch, freeze time, and watch old Audrey Hepburn movies... just let it soothe and quiet away all the restlessness. But part of the restlessness is magical -the energetic waves, the sudden goosebumps from head to toe, the inner stillness and the inner storm. Where am I? What am I? What is all this? It's asking, it's wondering, sometimes pleading, sometimes rejoicing that the questions come so loud and clear and fierce. It's very Dagny Taggart. It's a passion that roars, but is struggling to understand itself. What is this feeling that I'm feeling?

To Feel Like a Million Bucks...

Feel our mortality. We are simultaneously living and dying everyday. If you're smart you know it, but how many of us make an effort to feel it at least once a day? Recent events in my life have brought me once again in close quarters with how fragile yet strong, how small yet meaningful our existence on this Earth actually is. For days, I could not fully immerse myself in the mundane of the routine -I mean, I've been getting done what I need to get done, but my thoughts are elsewhere. I walk around humming the shahada and various other prayers... so much of so much feels unimportant. And then I realized that certain special blessings are already stacked in my favour so might as well be pro-active about the things that are actually important to me in life -a real kind of 'co-creation' of dream-manifestation, a partnership between souls of this world and of the next... I wanted to resist the cliche, but wanting to be absolutely clear here: "God helps those who help themselves".

And so I woke up today to a beautiful, crisp sunny day in Montreal. I felt restless but full of life and beauty. And I went for my second patient interview 'practicum'... an elderly patient with a fungal infection in the lungs, secondary to HIV. Today, though, I felt like I did something useful for her, beyond 'listening to her story' (really, though, medically-speaking... med students are far from "Dr"... being a Doc is like being pregnant, you either are one or you're not one, you're never "half-Dr"). My community service internship last year volunteering with Project Genesis for social rights education and advocacy in the poor and immigrant communities in Montreal actually came in handy today. You know, doctors take pretty good histories, I guess, most of the time. But it wasn't in her chart that there was mold in her apartment and that the landlord refused to do anything about it (most likely against the law, actually)... that doesn't exactly help an immune-compromised patient! At least, I could tell her about PG and where it was, what they do, how they could help her... also finding out that she's religious but hasn't been able to practice since she's been in this country because she didn't know where the particular house of worship for her denomination was, I was at least able to suggest that someone find out and let her know / told her to ask someone providing her care if they knew / get social services involved in finding out...

So, you know, I'm not curing cancer yet or anything. But today I felt like I did something meaningful for this patient. And if today should be my last day on this Earth, I have no regrets. I'm doing my best at what I do, I make time for the people and things I love, I regularly tell the people I love that I love them (I love you!), I felt God / the infinite energy of the Universe in everything today (this is a blessing, it doesn't happen all the time... I mean, of course God is in everything all the time, but to feel it is a completely different thing!), and I have been taking some initiative in at least increasing the odds that some of my deepest desires can be fulfilled. What more can a person ask for? Productivity. Better get back to it!

A Prayer for Grandma

Dear God,

Please look after her -we love her so much. With every salty drop that blurs the world we see, bless her, lift her up and cradle her in the vast expanse of love that is your arms. And let there be music, laughter, song, joy in that place where you take her, whether it ends up being a few more moments back here or in the next. But wherever it is, everday a sunny day, every breath a happy one, no pain or suffering, just peace and light. And love. Lots of it. All around and everywhere. Her life's loves to greet her, and a Universe big enough for all the love in her heart (this one is too small). And let her hum with a twinkle in her eye and run free along the banks of the Great River, to rest only for deliciousness and delight. We love her so much, but not as much as you do. So please, look after her.

Thank you.

I have found the Holy Grail.

Well, I guess technically, I was referred to the Holy Grail -and I actually had my first sip yesterday with Elizabeth Gilbert, but these Ted Talks are seriously the shiiiiiiiiiz. I just finished watching Jill Bolte Taylor's "Stroke of Insight" -amazing. Really. It's 20 minutes of your life well-spent:

http://www.ted.com/talks/jill_bolte_taylor_s_powerful_stroke_of_insight.html

Back to ANS drugs... studying them, not taking them (take a chill ;)

The Joy of Creative Genius and the World on the Bus Goes Round and Round...

I have a real nice bundle of studying to do, but before that, I just want to say this.

I think I'm in an existential happy place right now (as in, this very moment, we're not even talking the whole rainy day), and that is because Elizabeth Gilbert (the author of Eat, Pray, Love) speaks a wonderful Truth. Not just in her beautiful memoirs (which, so, well, you know I absolutely loved it... but not because it was the best story of all the time -I fell in love with the protagonist -her writing made you love her... and I think that really takes a special kind of writer, where you fall so in love with the protagonist that you fall in love with yourself and humanity too, and it's not even about 'what happens' or 'how it happens' -you'd give your life for that character. I think every writer wishes this for their own elusive 'favourite' characters... it is the greatest blessing of the creative fairies and inspiring gods to bestow that, indeed!), although of course, as the bracketed tangent hints, there are Truths to be found there too. But I just watched a 20-min Ted Talk, "Elizabeth Gilbert on nurturing creativity" and it was... just watch it (she is a good speaker and the principles are somewhat universal, so even if writing ain't your bag, you will most likely still enjoy it):

http://www.ted.com/index.php/talks/elizabeth_gilbert_on_genius.html

Also, today I realized that the most real-world experience one can have is riding public transportation. I always notice strange and interesting characters and wonder about them -those bratty tweens who gossip and backstab (and you get to witness all this drama live, day in and day out -and you want to tell the quieter, sweet girl that her loud friend who's so popular with all the boys, though promising to talk her up to some guy she has a crush on, in reality, talks her down, revealing her precious secrets to a bunch of losers who, blatently and regularly, demonstrate that they are only and always thinking with their little head -so not worth even her puppy love) and flutter their lashes and roll up their kilts... sometimes amusing, mostly annoying and on some special occasions, heartbreaking.

Then there's that woman who's always perfectly made-up and then suddenly is not, or that 30-something year-old man all suited-up and iPhone-happy, often speaking Persian infused with Quebecois French to some mystery person on the other end, or the other scrawny 30-something year-old guy in dirty, hole-y jeans with tatoos all down his arm who gives up his seat like a reflex when an elderly man or woman gets on the bus. And also there's the most-likely schizo girl on the second bus who mumbles to herself one day, yells at strangers the next day, and makes the whole bus laugh the following day with an unfiltered soliloquey of her private thoughts and fears turned inside out and upside down... you learn a lot about yourself, about people, about the world, on that ride. Like today. It was past 2 and I hadn't yet eaten lunch, so I pulled out my bag of raw veggies and tupperware of humus in the metro. We get to Cote-St-Catherine, or Plamondon, and just as an old woman with deep smile-creases on her face and dark wrinkled hands, wearing a yellow blouse and a black leather jacket was about to get off, she taps me on the shoulder, gives me a thumbs-up and grins. I returned her smile and then probably kept smiling stupidly to myself for the remainder of the ride.

What was that for? Good for me that I'm eating healthy? Or did she recognize all the medical advertising on my very-standard, identifying "I'm a Med-2 in Canada" schoolbag? Or did I inadvertently drop the H-bomb when I pulled out my nalgene for a drink of water? Or did she like the cute hat I was wearing today? Personally, I think she approved of the veggies (and frankly, I like it better that way). But funny, eh.

Anyway, time to get on that work... I think I shall take pharm as my first lover tonight...

All the Heart's Longing in a Brief Moment

I feel tired of all this. Time for a pause, really. My glass of water is half. My stomach is full. It's already dark outside and it's not yet 7. The world feels still and yet moves too fast. One can feel alone in a room full of people, and full of comfort when actually alone. Turning on a light just made me smile. I'm trying to build a fortress around my sanctuary -keep the worries out. But they niggle and crawl and butt their heads against it. All waters should be like the turquoise and opaly Egirdir. I miss my curly, red-headed friends right now. Kindred spirits from what seems like another life ago... I miss you all at different times (consider that a compliment to your individuality).

I'm aching to write in a real way... I want the rush, the high... that feeling of entrallment and infatuation with one's own elusive characters... but here I sit and I am bound. Remind me not to love this cage -it would be such a shame to never fly, just when my wings will have grown in.

Writing on a late-night high... drunk on naught

And by naught, I mean, little sleep and lots of tiredness to the point where there is no energy left to worry about things.

I ought to write something beautiful today. It's nearly 2 a.m. and there's darkness all around me except for the light on my desk and... one another light. The rain is tinkling gently on the loft pane. I haven't really taken the time to just sit here with you and write the real write. It's hard to get there oftentimes (especially with new stresses and a tendency towards compulsive and control-freak-like behaviours under said stress), but well, there's lots of blessings. Like yesterday, I almost beat the next bus, walking home from the metro (the 5 minutes by which I lost was really such a tragedy... the longest 5 minutes of life!). Still, that means that my brisk walk home was rather impressive. And tonight I had a lovely time catching up with friends, hanging out at a new place (Pullman -on Parc above Sherbrooke -trying out new places is really one of the bestest things I think... next on the list: Byblos, Rumi, a friend's other brunch place mentioned, and 2 tapas places...).

But so, Pullman. If you like the drinkies, very nice wines for very not-that-expensive (I was designated driver, so after a sip of something white and a little fruity, I had a 7up with grenadine... yes, this is commonly known as something else, but let's save some face here by going with the 'grown-up' sounding description ;). Tapas on the other hand, on the pricey side -but worth the experience... scallops, 'the best grilled cheese in Montreal' (to be honest, I don't think I've ordered grilled cheese at a restaurant in Montreal in my life), salmon tartar thing, chocolate con churros (now this is the shiiiiiiiiz), beets with something... all very nice indeed.

I need to start working out in a serious fashion (but in order to do so, I think I will require adequate athletica to replace my 4 year-old running shoes...).

Grey's Anatomy, also good these days. Mer-Der gettin' a bit old, but lots of other juice to keep things flowing.

Remind me that I have to track down this Kashmiri philosophical romantic that I met in Dubai so that I can scoop up his lifestory and just make a character for my novel after him.

Also in the spring (or fall if the rain'll just quit), I would like to go visit McGill's Arboretum in St. Anne-de-Bellevue. There's apparently some pretty hikes around there too...

I'm flirting with the idea of going to Egypt with some friends for 2 weeks in early December after exams.

I know, such an un-poetic line on which to end this post. Well, what to do.