My friend once worked security at a hospital and he was telling me the story of a regular he’d deal with – not in a negative way; the man was one big teddy bear, apparently.
But, anyway, he kept getting my friend to repeat a phrase with the word “can’t” in it because everytime my friend said the word “can’t” it sounded a little different thanks to his thick Iranian accent.
The man was in hysterics over this. He thought it was the funniest thing since Who’s On First.
Eventually, this same man asked my friend to teach him how to say “f*** you” in Iranian. My friend didn’t hesitate: “Yes,” he said.
So, he teaches the man and – as the saying goes – teach a man to fish, etc.
The man proceeded to spend the next little while saying what he thought was “f*** you” to every person he came across.
The best part?
My friend had not, in fact, taught him how to say “f*** you” but instead what essentially boiled down to “I love you.”
He’d sent the man on a mission of love.
A wholesome act of deception begets a serial spread of loving words.
Sometimes, life seems like it’s screaming “f*** you” when, really, it’s asking you to be vulnerable – to accept the love the universe is trying to give or guide you to; an embrace. It’s scary when anyone or anything is ‘loud’ at us – whether the message is positive, negative, or anything in-between.
I guess what I’m saying is that it is okay to be scared.
I’m right there with you, admittedly.
Make a plan, God laughs.
No rain, no flowers.
I made the brilliantly awful choice to watch one of my favourite films recently, Darren Arronofsky’s The Fountain (2006).
Brilliant, because it’s such a gorgeous and ethereal film – the pacing is initially, delicately rocked back-and-forth until things really ramp up at the end for an emotional magna-copia, an explosion of truth in life, death, and love.
Awful, because it’s a heartwrenching love story about two souls helpless to Time.
One soul discovering – and accepting – what becomes a major recurring theme throughout the film: death is the road to awe.
The other spending the rest of his existence attempting to ressurect his soulmate and recapture the love they had.
He fears loneliness, yes, but he also feels an immense guilt – like he squandered the time he had with his other half. He has regrets. He lives in his memories (and memories that belong to different versions of himself, thanks to Arronofsky’s sci-fi/philosophical sensibilities).
He traverses the universe in some vague, undefined future, riding the cosmos in a presumably self-made terrarium (he is a scientest, after all – the scientest, in fact, who discovers the cure for everything… but, crucially, he is too late to save Izzi, the woman he loves).
Her voice haunts him throughout the entire film.
“Finish it,” she says.
Over and over and over again.
It drives Thomas (played with great desperation by Hugh Jackman) to the edge of the universe. He can’t crack it, it seems.
You see, Izzi was writing a novel and she was nearly finished before a terminal illness took her life. She tells Thomas to “finish it.”
Whether he is driven mad or is justified in his pursuit of immortality is not for me to say here, since I think you should really watch it if you haven’t – that, and I get long-winded in these things.
Izzi, played to perfection by Rachel Weisz (how did Arronofsky manage to nab two of my lifelong crushes as his leads for this film and why hadn’t I watched it before 2022?! The questions, people…), is an enigma for most of the film because we see her through the context of Tomas/Thomas/Tom’s memories.
He just can’t let her go – or maybe their lives are meant to entwine ‘forever’, whatever that means.
Despite the startling unreality of the futuristic A-plot involving “Tom the Space Traveler”, there is actually something quite real and quite painful about the events that unfold and the biggest reason for that is the deep universality of emotions on display.
Love, loss, the fear of death… it’s all as beautiful as it is troubling.
What if you loosen your grip and breathe?
Stop trying to work against it all and work with it, instead.
Expect and accept the unexpected in order for growth to occur.
I’ve written it here many times because it’s true: out of pain, out of loss, we find beauty – not just an appreciation for who or what we already or still have, but in the unique experiences love and life and loss present.
The fallability, the ups-and-downs, the inbetweens, all of it.
Life is full of having to accept losses we can never anticipate and challenges us to still love ourselves in the midst of transition – in those periods of abrupt or gradual change that force us to confront who we are and what we want out of life.
Out of anxiety, out of disappointment, even out of tragedy comes love.
Except for that one time when I really went off the rails. It looked something like this…
Jokes aside, we all struggle. We all search – yearn, learn, and grow.
I just want to keep on, keeping on, y’know?
Until, as The Fountain reminds me, I am no more – until the only immortality I have achieved is living in someone’s memory and then… until it was all just an experience.
I’m glad to be here. I’m glad you’re here too.
My sister-from-another-mister, Maranda, sent me a reel a few days ago on Instagram and, as per usual, it got me thinking a lot about life.
A few things stuck out to me, watching the reel – some lines that really found me.
“Intuition whispers, anxiety screams.”
I’ve been hearing from both lately.
Intuition seems, ironically, the loudest with its whispering. Maybe it’s the fact that Intuition has actually been bludgeoning me with signs, maybe it’s Maybelline – we’ll never know.
(Photo by National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases on Unsplash)
(Please don’t sue me.)
No, but there is something to be said about listening to your body.
I lose sight of that because, the truth is, I haven’t spent enough time with myself – listening to everything I need, that my body needs.
It’s a good body. It’s gotten me this far – and it’s pulled me through some tough times.
It’s given me joy. It supports me.
Alas, the body keeps the score though, doesn’t it?
Which leads me to the second quote I really latched onto from the reel Maranda sent me…
“Trauma can cosign anything, if you let it.”
Oh boy, if someone had told late-teens/early-twenties Austin that he’d be shouldering some real emotional baggage before his 30s, he probably would have never left the house again… that, or he would have prepared a safety net that included proactively seeking therapy.
As life would have it, therapy came after those emotional challenges.
Honestly, it taught me there is never a bad time to invest in seeing a professional. Even just as a neutral sounding board and someone to unpack your thoughts with so you don’t dump it all on your friends, family, or partners (sorry y’all, I love you!).
And that extends to couples, family, or group therapy.
It is so valuable. Do not overlook your own mental health.
Visit the therapist at least as regularly as your visit a dentist which, according to the census data of my own personal experience knowing my friends and neighbors, isn’t too too often in a single year on average.
Even if we all just did our marginal best to seek professional help (without barriers to access because, let’s be real, half the battle – or more than half – is affordability or space… just remember voting matters!) maybe things would be a bit better around the ol’ blue Mama… is that a strange way to describe the Earth? Maybe. Am I in my era of not caring anymore? Perhapums.
I hope that answers some questions.
Back to that friend I was talking about at the start.
The other morning, we were standing in the lunch room, chatting, as we do.
We struck up a conversation about the whole “diverging paths” thing and goign with the flow of the universe.
I told him, “I’m taking it all one day at a time.”
And he replied with a reminder that everything in nature – the flora, fauna, and everything alive – can only live one day at a time.
A wolf wakes up in the morning and simply goes about its day. It doesn’t plan or worry about not having a plan for the next day. It doesn’t spend it’s time trying to figure out what its supposed to do or why… it just does.
We have foresight – and in many ways, that is a gift (as much as it can feel like a curse).
But we still have to make a distinction, as that reel noted too, between anxiety and intuition. Between moments of hesitation and moments of realization.
This also, of course, provides a nice segue into the stuff making my soul light up right now.
Sapping all of that anxiety out of me and replacing it with childlike wonder, curiosity, and joy. No, I am not referring to the return of nearly all of the original X-Men (2000) cast members in Avengers: Doomsday (2026).
No no, I am of course referring to happenings with Cambrian Players and all of the lovely and exciting ongoing theatre magic here in Thunder Bay!
Come on, now.
*excited theatre kid noises, Denny’s destroyed*
Like Walter White said, “nothing stops this train.”
Okay, maybe I shouldn’t be quoting a fictional meth lord when referencing Cambrian but here’s the thing… good writing is good writing. Not mine, I mean Vince Gilligan and his team for Breaking Bad. Sheesh.
Moving on, it’s Cambrian Players 75th year of theatre for the love of it.
75 YEARS!
Dude(ee/ette/z), that’s nearly a CENTURY. Have we wrapped our heads around that yet?
I certainly haven’t. I just wrote that and my head nearly exploded. I feel dizzy. Should I eat something? Have you yet today? Did you drink water?
And we’re back.
We are so back (as the kids say).
I can’t tell you how excited I am to see Cambrian’s first musical in a hot minute. Frog & Toad is such a fun and thoughtful story – with a wicked soundtrack to boot. By wicked, I mean whimsical, funny, and infectious.
I’ve seen snippets of some of the numbers from the show and… well, no spoilers!
All I can say is that I am seated and ready (except for the stuff I can’t be seated for because I want to help however I can… life has been busy, hahaha… haha… ha).
What I am also saying is BUY YOUR TICKETS NOW cause this is going to be one for the books – and one you will find yourself singing and dancing to tunes from for the forseeable future, time and place be damned.
You’ve been warned.
Just like I am warning you – or giving you a heads up, rather – that Cambrian Players’ 75th Annual Gala is also coming up and even though early bird pricing has come and gone there’s still time to grab your ticket before they’re sold out!!!
There’s gonna be dancing, delcious food, delightful company, and a certifably delectable energy.
(The fours D of Fun! You can’t spell fun without 4D…? Yeah, it’s a work in progress.)
Outside of all that… well, I guess I’ve found time for a few other things here and there.
To say I was nervous as all heck to be involved with this poetry night at the Barrel House would be a mazzive understatement, especially given the mega-talented artists I was reading amidst.
That being said, the crowd was encoruaging and my fellow artists are all class acts.
I was simply in awe of what I heard and left the event feeling inspired.
A very special thank you to Donna Kelner for putting the whole thing together and allowing me to take part – and to Kristina for convincing me to give it a go!
It was a terrific opportunity to put some mileage on my new red pants and take Dennis’ crazy 80s’ shirt for a spin too (because apparently its eccentric style fits my personality or some such hokum).
Plus, dust off the old public poetry skills.
Whoo, it had been awhile. Hence why I was so nervous, at first. Watching everyone else go got me psyched up, though, and by the time I was up there I felt ready.
You might think some liquid courage was involved but my one drink was a slow burn.
The only buzz I felt was adrenaline being in front of a large group of people – and Maranda, making faces at me (just kidding / thank you for coming out to support your old pal, Austin).
And, speaking of standing up in front of large groups of people, I’ve been auditioning.
How am I supposed to stay away? Look at all these names…
There are some other things I’ve auditioned for and I’m just gonna kind of keep doing that – auditioning, I mean. I might be a little addicted to this “acting” thing.
I just feel this need in my bones, y’know?
And I get so inspired watching my friends and peers and professionals do this stuff.
Therein lies the other way I want to spend my time: consuming theatre as an audience member.
Most recently, I got the chance to see Women of the Fur Trade by Frances Koncan, directed by Amy Sellors and Richard Comeau at Magnus Theatre.
“Wow,” is my one word review.
Across the board, each actor embodied their role to such a degree that – from the very top of the show – I was transported.
Jaimie Henderson (Cecilia), Grace Lamarche (Eugenia), and Lisa Nasson (Marie-Angelique) all shine in their respective roles.
The friendship between the three of them is so real. It encompasses the often delicate balance between politics, womanhood, and friendship; three unique identities relating and not relating, breaking the fourth wall, claiming agency, advocating for change, supporting each other through disappointment and loss.
Across cultural and social boundaries, Cecilia, Eugenia, and Marie-Angelique could be seen as a holistic trio.
Watching Henderson, Lamarche, and Nasson’s performances certainly felt holistic.
Combined with Joe Pagnan’s anachronism-laced, decades-spanning set design, Jeff Chief’s costuming, and Anika Binding’s lighting, there’s this timeless and very timely quality about the events which unfold – the exploration of Metis identities, the inclusion of Canada Post, images of Ryan Reynolds, Keanu Reeves, and Ryan Gosling next to historical figures such as Louis Riel and Thomas Scott, the feeling of being trapped, etc.
We are acutely aware of the historical setting… yet reminded – or confronted, even – by the tension between the past, present, and future, and the lines society draws between us, the patterns we seek to break free from.
The love and effort put in to bringing this show to the Magnus stage, by everyone involved, radiates in every set change, every innovative prop delivery, every artistic and creative choice… this show felt like a therapeutic scream – a much-needed breath of fresh air. An emotional one at that, too.
To those behind-the-scenes but whose work was on full display: Nicholas Palinka, Tim Stephenson, Lisa Macchione, Nadia Cheechoo, David Brown, to you and your teams – a massive thank you for sharing your gifts to bring this show to light.
Your hearts were onstage opening night.
I laughed, I cried, I learned far more about Louis Riel than I ever did in Grade 9 History (no offense, Ms. Hoffner!).
There are actually four more chances to see this show, if you happen to be in Thunder Bay and reading this right now / the day this blog post was published.
If not, this is what time machines are for, folks!
Have you ever stood out in the snow at 2AM?
I guess, looking out the window, it’s a little late for that now, isn’t it?
Regardless, here in ye old Bay of Thunder, things get really quiet between 2-5AM. It’s like the entire city goes to sleep, save for a Uride driver here or there.
I used to stand outside of my apartment, after getting home from my overnight Staples’ shifts, and just bask in pure, serene silence in the middle of January or February.
The snow quietly falling past the streetlights, through the trees, whisped along the sidewalks by the wind.
I return there when I need some peace.
I find it takes some of the pressure off.
Between that, making my friends laugh (or them making me laugh), going out to see plays and musicals (let alone being in them) and movies, commiting to community ventures and taking part in things, spending quality time with those I love (which I guess goes back to point two about laughing), all of these things take the pressure off.
They don’t just distract but they fill my life and my time with joy and experience.
Because it’s true: time can move slow when you’re wading into the unknown but, maybe, that’s exactly when the universe asks us, invites us, dares us to live – and, subsequently, to love. See the roses before the break of dawn.
All that jazz.
We cultivate our own gardens. It’s up to us to decide.
Not to dwell until we sink but, instead, feel the weight of it all and do something seemingly miraculous: push.
Push on, push through, and pull ourselves – the light, dark, and grey; every part of us – in for a tighter hug.
Turns out it’s okay to relax: where we’re going, we don’t need roads.
thatfroninja. 