Curiosity Roving : V.16 : Bold Moves
Curiosity Roving
The Grand Adventures of L Rose Goossen
V.16 : Bold Moves
in which we plant the winter wheat
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Greetings and Salutations!
And welcome to the sixteenth volume of Curiosity Roving. I thank you kindly for your attention, and I thank you for staying with me through these strange times.
In the time since my last letter, I have danced like it's gay pride again, successfully scavenged the metal dump, observed the liquid waste and the bears, spied on the meteors, scoured my bile ducts, performed a secret mission and a seasonal ritual, whined about the weather, given birth to the DJ in my heart, started a cult, sparked and extinguished a number of fires, ached in all the right places, and made a Life Decision™.
In the time since my last letter, I have danced like it's gay pride again, successfully scavenged the metal dump, observed the liquid waste and the bears, spied on the meteors, scoured my bile ducts, performed a secret mission and a seasonal ritual, whined about the weather, given birth to the DJ in my heart, started a cult, sparked and extinguished a number of fires, ached in all the right places, and made a Life Decision™.
occult iconI'm writing to you today from a scenic balcony in the capital city of Winnipeg. You join me here, in limbo. I am going back to work, because I have already achieved my humble personal goals for the pandemic period and now I feel driven to become busy and accumulate some dollar bills. One of my historic compadres-through-the-ages has invited me to Salt Spring Island, on the west coast of Canada, to ply the sylvan fields of a marijuana farm in the harvest season. This invitation came about as a result of a single limerick that I composed and posted to his Facebook page on the occasion of his birthday. He also replied in poetry. I love my life, and I love my friends. Let's keep in touch.
migrationI have never been to Salt Spring Island. The only things I really know about it are that I don't need to own a vehicle and it probably won't ever be colder than minus 5 Celsius. It sounds fine. I love work as a mental health strategy; if someone will just give me forty hours a week of things to do for the next few months, I will probably emerge in a much better state of mind.
I am scattered mentally, but collected physically. Everything is packed. I am very practiced in this kind of change and I have not forgotten anything.
temple
This letter is more from the heart than the cortices, because my brain is frankly on the fritz with the effort of integrating the accumulated combination of self-education and lethargy and rude shocks and anxiety and grief and childhood regression and coping strategies and decadence and stubborn love and audacious holy joy thrown in the face of terror that has characterized the last five months. I'm cutting myself a lot of slack and I recommend that you do the same. I don't know what to say except thank you, again, and also the future is uncertain.
peepers
Yes, joy is holy in these times. One of the greatest mental health benchmarks that I have noticed and celebrated during this long season is having the capacity to experience personal misery without it affecting my capacity to also enjoy my life. Wherever you are, I hope that you have created occasions to appreciate the small things. The small things are everything. If you experience beauty, I hope you share it. Even in seasons of trial, people are capable of such beautiful things.
ppe zeitgeist
A friend recently composed a tiny Twitter ode on the subject of traveling as opposed to tourism, with the central proposition that the two are distinguished by the presence of risk. It's possible that I am nursing an addiction to risk. Flying across the country to a place I have never been is undoubtedly more risky than staying here, in the lap of the support network to which I exist in tight mutual obligation established by blood ties and years of shared experience. Let's find out if this gamble pays off.
another day
I would also posit that the difference between a traveler and a tourist could be demarcated by the points of focus. A tourist is motivated by destinations, and runs around the track of an itinerary, with clear outlines for photo ops, life support, and transit. A traveler engages with the spaces in between. A traveler values the company.
potential
Departure is awful. That never changes. But then I cry on the plane, order a coffee, dry my face with the napkin, become preoccupied with the pressure in my ears, wonder if I should be embarrassed, try to write, discover that my pen doesn't work at altitude, stretch my legs, remember an anecdote, ponder with whom I could share it, hope that I don't forget, spy on my seat neighbours, groan at the baby, walk to the bathroom and back, buckle my seatbelt, have a giggle at the magnificent futility of human endeavour, contemplate mortality, remember to breathe, and usually, I find fresh air wherever I land.
riddle
Reader, that's all I've got for today. September will find me in a return to form. Thanks for sticking around.
In love, in gratitude, in humility.
Until next time, stay curious. -- Rose
Appendix : Loose Change
In love, in gratitude, in humility.
Until next time, stay curious. -- Rose
Appendix : Loose Change
- I don't know who needs to hear this right now, but you can watch 'Spice World' online. You may not have realized it at age seven, but it's satire and it's rich.
https://watch.123movie.cc/movies/spice-world
- This article on Mr. Rogers is a nice reminder about little and big, about purpose, about grace.
- This article on Mr. Rogers is a nice reminder about little and big, about purpose, about grace.
https://www.esquire.com/entertainment/tv/a27134/can-you-say-hero-esq1198/
- Canadians really love not being American. Here's a piece on the state of affairs in the US of A, written by a Canadian.
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