Questions I Ask My Book, And Never Myself


I crawled out of bed up at 6:35 this morning and hustled to the beach, not expecting to see a sun rise and I was a little bummed to see I was right to expect so. A thick blanket of cloud collected along the horizon so high that it took 2 hours for the sun to peak out — I was already two coffees and some yoghurt into my day when the star decided to show itself.

This morning it was minus 5, double that with the wind chill, and I, once again, had the entire beach to myself.

While I’m here I have the intention of shooting an experimental autobiographical short film. I have the intention to film it only during dusk and dawn — magic hour. I wanted to borrow or trade everything in the film (for example, the amazing intention candles from Tiny Ritual featured in my previous post). I want to fill it with all the elements of myself that I rely on to get by at this stage in my life — intention, earth, meditation, yoga, looking up more often than looking down…

I did about 4 minutes of yoga on the beach and as soon as I began I really, really missed it. I try to go everyday in Toronto. I haven’t been since Friday. I didn’t even feel the cold, I just felt happy.

I have changed a lot in the past few years, I think partially due to age — the notion of “growing up” in the truest sense of the phrase — but I feel it is mostly due to my passage into a new part of life; of living. I think — I hope — I will experience at least 2 or 3 or even 4 more shifts in perspective as I grow and change. I’ve been through one — entering my 20’s — and this is my second. Maybe even my third. Maybe I don’t remember the early ones.

My values have shifted; settled into their truer self. I don’t feel any less lost than a decade ago, but I’m searching for different answers now. I’ve acknowledged a lot of history that resides within me, and I’m working really hard to make space for more and more deserving memories.

Today I worked more on my book. I asked a lot of questions. If this happens, why? Where is this character at this point, and then this point? What is the goal of this idea? One specific question was: what would it feel like learn that the entire world you have come to know is only a minuscule portion of what is actually possible? A shift in perspective. Huh.

I split my day in two with a bike ride. It was snowing when I left. I didn’t wear a helmet and  I felt like I was breaking a law I hold onto like its glued to me (I’m scared).

I biked to Hanlan’s and didn’t see a single person. I watched a plane land, and another leave. My fingers were numb. I didn’t bring warm enough clothes.

On the way back I checked out the new boardwalk over the sand dune to the clothing optional beach. A really weird payphone is planted right in the middle of the sand. It’s very odd, but I settled on it being there for safety and I was glad it was.

I decided to bike to Centre Island but went off path and found these amazing, mythically frozen trees dripping icicles into the lake (see photos above). I spent so much time there just staring at them, thinking about all the fantastical ideas I couldn’t fully formalize. I forgot I was cold. I looked at them so intently and imagined myself in a far off place, detached from the island on a quest to find something that would save someone’s life.

I think coming to the island has been good for me. I mean, I write a blog post before bed and I proofread it. I feel like there is triple the time here than at home. How is that possible?

I felt really anxious today so I wrote notes to myself and stuck them around the room. I always mused at others who did this but they actually worked. Beside my keyboard it says “You’ve got this,” and on the night table, “You’re writing a book!” and on the wall, “Keep. Going.” If you don’t really think about them when you write them, when you notice them again it’s like the universe leaving you something obvious and needed.

I thought I’d leave you with some others, just in case you like the idea but have trouble coming up with things to scribble down:

  • Yes, you can have that snack — when you finish what you’ve started
  • No one texted you, stop checking
  • Yes, delete that game you’re addicted to on your phone
  • 25 minutes on, 5 minutes off — repeat
  • Four different colours of sticky notes is never enough colours
  • You’re not hungry, you just ate
  • Don’t watch Nashville unless you have time to watch ALL the episodes

One thought on “Questions I Ask My Book, And Never Myself

  1. I am giggling at your notes at the end. I feel like I need the “No one texted you. Stop checking” and the “You are not hungry, you just ate” permanently painted on my wall. I am glad that you have settled in and are feeling so productive.

    Those trees are so magical. Will they make an appearance in your book? Oh my goodness, YOU ARE WRITING A BOOK! I haven’t met you, but I am proud of you!

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