vancouver island-based author and artist

I feel the most lost after coming home.

Blogging from: my bedroom in Calgary, Alberta

I came back to Calgary this morning from Vancouver.  It was an early start; my alarm was set for 5 am Pacific time and I made it to YVR just in time to get on the plane before general boarding.  It took slightly longer than I expected to get on a train to the airport from VCC because Translink is currently in the middle of a system switch to Connect - a pre-paid, tap and go transit pass literally identical to Oyster in London.  It was 6:45 by the time I got on my train, but in exactly 25 minutes I was there.  It felt pretty glorious when I finally saw the sun just after 7 am as we neared Marine Drive station.  I hadn't seen any daylight since the night before, when my close family friend and his girlfriend were looking out to the waterfront from Ancora Restaurant.  I had one night in Vancouver and it was magical.  There's no shortage of fun to be had or beauty to be seen in that city.  More on that, and the rest of my Nanaimo stay when I feel more inclined to go into detail.  Since I got back to YYC this morning, my heart's been sinking into my stomach more and more.  This is what I posted on @mdtcreative earlier this afternoon, while sitting outside the Calgary Tower downtown.

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I'm sitting at the base of the Calgary Tower and the bells are ringing. I've only been back in yyc a few hours and my heart has already sunken-not all the way down but it's still moving. It's more apparent every single day that every fibre of my being needs to get away from here. The vibes in this city flatten my Spirit and make me feel minimized and weak. I've felt pain among these streets for nearly a quarter of a century now. I've had good times, yes. I've met good people, yes. But it always feels like no matter what I do, no matter how lofty my achievements, they count for little on the grand scale; nothing I've ever done here has ever propelled me to the heights I need to soar to. And now that I know those heights exist and that I, in fact, will see, and live among those heights within my lifetime, I can only count the months, weeks, and days that remain before I can make my new home. I trust in the universe for the gifts I've received to make this possible. I trust that everything I'll find on the road ahead will nurture me instead of tear me down or hold me back. I can't be afraid of what I don't know when what I've known my whole life has hurt me so much. Where I go isn't relevant, as long as I keep moving. As long as I end up anywhere but here.