Category — travel

On my way back from Granville Island this morning, I noticed an older couple taking each others photo in-front of the ships.

I approached with a smile on my face and offered to take a picture of the two of them together.

The gentleman smiled back – a little hesitant to hand his camera over to a complete stranger. I set my purchases on the ground and he shrugged, grinned and handed me the camera as his wife came over.

“This nice young lady said she’d take our photo!” he said. His accent seemed to be somewhere from the southern United States.

His wife smiled and started pointing out what she’d like for me to get in the photo with them.

I took two pictures, including the boats and mountains, and handed the camera back.

“You Canadians are so nice!” the wife said.

The husband laughed and said, “I’m moving to Canada! You guys are just so sweet and helpful.”

I couldn’t help but laugh myself – it’s the old Canadian stereotype: we’re polite and friendly. However, if making that stereotype a reality for visitors to Vancouver makes their day, I’m happy to do it.

I wished them a good visit and as I picked up my things and started towards home, I heard them offer to take another couple’s photo in-front of the ships. “‘That nice young lady took our picture and we’d like to do the same for you.”

The other couple happily accepted and I continued on. I have to admit to feeling absurdly happy; it really is the little things that count.

The signs are all there: irrationally crabby, moody, easily annoyed and withdrawn.

I need a vacation.

My first thought upon realizing this was “A vacation from what exactly?”

Let’s face it, I have a pretty sweet life. I have a fantastic (and cute!) fiance who has been extremely supportive and encouraging in my quest to run my own business and do what I like for a living. He is my best-friend. We live in a nice apartment, we have lots of books and toys to amuse ourselves with and we eat like kings most nights.

But, amidst all this happy “we”, a canker is blossoming.

I need time alone. I need to get away from our nice apartment, away from my best-friend, away from our toys and routines. I need to regain my sense of space and self. I want to come home with a sense of eagerness and come back to our life with the ability and renewed desire to participate in it fully.

I felt guilty for wanting it, for needing it – I questioned myself about it endlessly. Do I love Joe less if I need to be alone? Does this mean that I’m a selfish person? Does my need to sprawl out across the whole bed without running into anyone supersede my responsibilities to our relationship?

The answer to all those things is no.

I discussed everything with Joe and I should have known that this would be his response: “You should go – a couple of days of doing nothing by yourself will be good for you.”

Rilke said it best:

“I consider the following to be the highest task in the relation between two people: for one to stand guard over the other’s solitude. If the essential nature of both indifference and the crowd consists  in the nonrecognition of solitude, then love and friendship exist in order to continually furnish new opportunities for solitude.”

My thoughts about love and relationships have changed drastically over the past two years. Yet, there is still this nagging voice in my head (the product of too many romantic films and novels) that needing to get away, alone, from your regular life for a few days was disaster in the making. That real love means merging together as one person forever and ever, it means being a mirror for the other, it means bringing them into your fully-realized world where you entertain them with endless delights and teach them how to live within you.

Now I understand fully that those perceptions are all garbage.

I don’t want to submerge myself in someone else’s personality (nor do I want them submerged in mine). I cannot be anyone’s mirror. I refuse to let some half-finished, disorderly mess of a person come and live in the internal world I’m still building for myself because they find it easier than building their own world.

I find myself agreeing with Rilke again:

“[Young people] (who by their very nature are impatient) fling themselves at each other when love takes hold of them, they scatter themselves, just as they are, in all their messiness, disorder, bewilderment…:And what can happen then? What can life do with this heap of half-broken things that they call their communion and that they would like to call their happiness, if that were possible, and their future?

And so each of them loses himself for the sake of the other person, and loses the other, and many others who still wanted to come. And loses the vast distances and possibilities…No area of human experience is so extensively provided with conventions as this one is: there are life-preservers of the most varied invention…society has been able to create refuges of every sort, for since it preferred to take love-life as an amusement, it also had to give it and easy form, cheap, safe, and sure, as public amusements are.”

Before now I had simply withdrawn deeper into myself to come to the solitude I need to be happy. Now I know that Joe and I can create space for the other to live in and leave out all the guilt that is supposed to be associated with needing that space.

So I booked my two day/two night trip to Victoria, BC (I got an amazing deal with Pacific Coach Lines) and that’s that.

Two days of keeping my own counsel and focusing on my own inner needs will go a long way to regaining and preserving my happiness!

I’ve had this great desire recently to pack a couple of suitcases and go to the Vancouver airport and get on a standby flight to…wherever that standby flight is going so long as it’s warm and I can go snorkeling.

I blame the cold weather and Duran Duran.