Laugh Out Loud Moments...

Last evening the funny bone dragged a few stellar moments from last summer to the forefront of my mind...they went something like this :)

Imagine my surprise as we moved from classroom, apparently graduating after 90 mins of slideshow instruction, to trail...I find out later to sheer lack of surprise, it is the resident Smithers hotspot and the hardest trail in the area...in the AREA!! Mmmmhmmm, yup, I am back on the topic of the pleasurable road trip to Smithers for a 'Trailbuilding Course.' I have come back to this trip lately in my ruminations as i call them...I beat that mountain...from the bottom hundred feet to the next two and a half hours of straight up, outta hell, a third on hands and knees scrambling to get the next foot out, b*tch of a climb...not a trail, unless you're a mountain goat.

This is where they took us....threw us in at the deep end of the pool and some of us, ahem, were sinking slightly....bobbing up to the surface to gasp life giving oxygen and powering on as my forever friend would (you know who you are); head down, fists clenched in determination whatever the challenge, face set to conquer....and so I did, each step feeling the heavy weight of gravitational pull, as though just where I tread it was...more....each breath a pull of agony as though the air itself was infused with friction and fire...

Adding insult to injury as you toil and travail your way to the top of what feels like Mount Everest at this point, are the bugs, offensive little things...can I please just stress BUGS...mutiple breeds to contend with, I mean lets not boredom overcome the ranks...gasping for air, mouth open to allow maximum amount of air straight through to the lungs, hang on to your seats, I managed to swallow more than a few different types before learning to breathe deeply through nostrils I swear grew in size to suit the desperate moment...add that to a face and you have six inch holes staring you nostril to eyeball...black flies, no seeums, regular everyday variety of fly, horsefly's (kid you NOT), and a mother truckin' June bug, huge antenna and all, kamakazied his way into my mouth as I was talking, gasping, words to a conversation I have no memory of with the power of his wings, feet and antennae fresh in my mind.

Oh, I have moved far into the dramatic with this regurgitation of a story of overcoming...and yet each time I face something challenging I remember that sweaty, bug-infested day and the joy I felt in reaching the top and back down on my bottom to the bottom a measly three and a half hours after we left. Anyone who hikes regularly, and I was to re-learn, was that the coming down is no easier than the going up...the quads burn, the toes squelch to the front of the shoe, compressing in place and creating new sister blisters to join the others. Feet slip out on shale, small pea gravel, dust covered hard packed dirt...feet trip on roots and protruding rock...oh its a joy, I tell you...its an eight second ride full of adventure, danger and pain.

Yes, I am traumatized and yes, I would do it all over again. And I did, but on other trails, other canyons and raging rivers, other far-off sites reachable only by boat, trails so faint and misused they meander this way and that until you arrive at falls so loud, so beautiful it takes your breath away all over again.

Oh the healing nature has to offer...here we meet the divine, of it I am sure.

I sit this morning with hot cup of heaven and ponder the words I wrote last night. These words were spurred on by a confrontation between myself and an old friend...inspired by the words spoken, the emotions created and growing like a volcano ready to erupt...

It came after much thought, much prayer and much self-reflection and was not well received, as evidenced upon sending a message or two in his short caveman style...enigmatic, mysterious and never quite to the point...two or three meanings could and have been in the past attributed to words written, allowing escape routes for the man in question.

Oh I have grown beyond tired of word games and games of any kind within a relationship. Speak truth, speak forthrightly or speak not at all.

Hints of sardonic, sarcastic, critical thought couched in backhanded compliments.

Oh my friends, how we grow past those things that serve us not, that waste our precious time...it is just such...as any lost one or survivor can tell you; games of any kind, word salad, manipulation and control, criticism couched as jokes are no longer tolerated in any form.

They grate along nerve endings, set our teeth to grinding mentally as we observe, catalogue, read between the lines and scoff when a different answer is given, a different angle...

The pattern never changes...words, survivor confronts, gasp-shock and amazement over the pointed words of light and truth, apology to follow, and wait for it, this is my favourite part...the comeback that it is your fault, you misunderstood, they are not in the wrong, did nothing wrong and screw you.

Oh the relief my friends....in and amidst all these words pouring out on the screen came the truth as it always does. Despite needing to know what his intentions were, understanding that a hidden motive was there under the surface despite repeated protestations of friendship and only friendship. Until last evening...give them a yard and they will take a mile explaining, arguing their position (which is no longer open for business, so to speak) and inadvertently giving up the true nature of their purpose, their objective.

Oh yes...I was right in all these thoughts, all the reading between the lines, the cues, the tones, the body language, the attitude. And still....still I struggled with me, accusing fingers pointing my way, the voice of one from the past calling out my own faults, shortcomings, pointedly speaking to the narcissist being me.

The night was fraught with thoughts circling, moving, accusing....emotions breaking the surface all at once instead of one at a time as I slowly make my way through the minefields waiting to blow within...there was no time to prepare, I was inundated with emotion, with fault, with recriminations, with sorrow and grief and worst of all...doubt.

Doubt in myself...this morning I sit with it and know that at some point I will return to the conversation to be sure I do not owe an apology for two-stepping my way to goodbye due to triggers from the cowardly lion who put them there.

We truly hate the reminders, do we not dear hearts? We loathe thinking of that person, let alone diving in to memories to deal and heal. We sit in teeth clenching fortitude and wait for revelation, for truth as grace and mercy sit on each shoulder in comfort, in encouragement.

I speak on these things my friends as it is so simple a thing to slip into a past 'friendship' that does not have your best interests at heart. Oh they will do things to curry favour...and we sit in agony as we recognize the intent behind the giving. We see it and hate it, do we not dear treasures? Disappointment reigns once more, the good news is it does not hurt the way leaving a relationship we put our heart and soul in. It pains, it strikes dread in our hearts but it lingers not.

I truly believe that these are hangers-on...they never have our own interests at heart, only their own purposes, their own agendas... these are the dangerous elements my friends as they come in from a different angle, from a former friendship or relationship casting easy camaraderie and capitalize on those former 'allowables' no longer on the table...

And so we guard, we protect that tender scar tissue still forming...we work heavy on those we allow to sit at our table...those who encourage, uplift with no agenda, no ulterior motive.

And so we stand tall, speaking our truth with kindness, with mercy, with grace...we speak it with confidence, with an understanding of our own fallibility and triggers, walking carefully and quietly, holding to principles, to standards of conduct, of personal f*cking boundaries.

Pardon my French dear friends...we unpack, at the oddest of times, a lot of personal frustration and anger over those we thought to trust; walking all over, stamping, trampling the lines you took time to draw in the sand.

I no longer wish to explain colour to the colour blind...

I no longer want to take time to point out the line crossing, the boundary crossing, the disrespect, the small criticisms, derision and on, and on, and on...

Dear lost ones...they are blind to the lack of decency in all they do...they are deaf to words of suffering, to words seeking understanding of the hurt they've caused; seeking validation from someone who deliberately misapprehends, who purposely fake confusion...

Go with God today and each day coming your way...may each tomorrow bring peace, comfort, grace, loving kindnesses and compassion. Stand dear hearts, speak, walk, love with all you have.