Progressively Louder Laughter

Did you take swimming lessons as a kid? One of the childhood stories we like to tell in our house is how my little sister repeated the first level of swimming lessons… more than a few times.

As a child, she was an obnoxiously sunny kid (this from the perspective of the often forgotten middle child). Her hair was the kind of unnatural white that you can only naturally find on someone who is albino or a descendent of Northern Europe.  Her eyes were so big that when she smiled they disappeared into moonlike slits, and much unlike me, she had no problem walking up to an adult, full of charm, nativity, and with a cute, yet authoritative speech impediment.

She once raged at us older kids, after we commented on her friend being a cute kid: “I’M THE COO-TIST!!”

So what was the reason for repeatedly failing level one of swimming lessons.? The kid wouldn’t get in the pool. She would stand by the edge, big smile on her face, pumping her arms, staying dry. My Mom recounts one failed swimming report card after another. It’s not surprising; you’ve got to get in the pool to get to the next level.

So when I think about where I am right now, I think about that edge of the pool. I know, I know, I know that I can’t snooze on my big jump for much longer. Deadlines are approaching. I’m pumping my arms, I’m trying to smile, I know that I am just as uncharming as I ever. I’m thinking about how nice it is to be dry.

Here are the things that remind me that the jump is worth it:

1. Comedy: a few weeks ago I was in a bit of a creative slump and I wasn’t feeling good about it. I stumbled across a Tig Notaro web series and I remember that good comedy makes me happier than anything else in the world.
2. Jazz: enough said.
3. Challenges: this week, I was reminded that the more challenging the problem, the more rewarding the solution. The higher the stakes, the better the win (and hello, I am competitive).

So I am still at the edge of the pool. Does someone want to spot me? Does someone want to push me in? Does someone want to tell me that I’ll eventually float to the top? Yes?

30 Minute Playlist: JUMP

 

Isn’t it so nice now that the days are longer? It is 6:30pm and the sun is still going strong. It has also snowed today leaving perhaps the last blanket of snow until much later this year. We know how it works in Toronto. Winter is the clingiest of seasons.

I’ve learned this year that sometimes we don’t always know the kind of medicine we need. I went to Brazil thinking that it would revive my excitement for art and music and people. Instead, I made an art out of sitting back and taking it in with a slight detachment from the people around me. I went from Recreio to Rio proper. I was renting a room in a large house that was steps away from a jazz bar. I had a balcony with a hammock and when I took my bottle of wine and book out for a nice swing, live jazz leaked out onto the streets. My heart. My favourite part of the trip.

Before I left for Brazil my Mother predicted that my sister would have her baby before I returned. It was a statement that was meant to dissuade me from going on the trip. A last-ditch effort. A tug at the heart. What she didn’t realize was that the jokes were on her. I was having all kinds of irrational feelings about becoming an Aunt. Running off to Brazil was just one kind of senseless coping mechanism. I think it had something to do with these seemingly invisible forces thrusting me into a higher level of adulthood.

On my way back from Brazil, I narrowly missed my connecting flight out of New York. I had a feeling it would happen as I was going through the seven layers of hell/ TSA BECAUSE IT’S NOT LIKE I HAVE A FLIGHT TO CATCH. I’m pretty sure that I was one hurdle away from having to solve a riddle given to me by a troll at some bridge. I felt incredibly at peace with missing my flight until I was told that I missed the closing of the gate. BY TWO MINUTES. And the news that followed…a 5-hour wait until my flight. I was coming off of a 10-hour redeye and losing the promise of a bed in the near future was a punch in the gut.

And then a text message from my father: my sister had just gone into labour. Suddenly, more than anything I wanted to be there for her, but I was stuck in an airport.

I am not one to take my time in places like airports. I confess that I don’t have much patience for people who stand on escalators. However, when you have 5 hours to kill, you stand on moving sidewalks and get your nails done. I did this all while listening to Chopin’s Nocturnes. It was like a soundtrack to a Sophia Coppolla film and I was Bill Murray. Tired, displaced, stuck in another country. I went to a restaurant where I sipped green tea and thought about the things I wanted to change in my life now that I am becoming an elder. I wrote those things down in another type of journal.

I was lucky to get back in time to be with my sister while she was in labour. It’s an experience like no other. There is a kind of electricity in the air while you wait in anticipation for life to arrive.

Anders was born at 12:52am on March 14th.

He is a little ball of light. He is a scrapper. He moves his little fists like the tiniest boxer. He is the best baby in the world and he listens intently to the music I play him. Sometimes he sounds like a little piglet, snorting in an effort to breathe. Sometimes he sounds like a stovetop kettle. Sometimes his face clouds over like he is about to start wailing and then just like that, it relaxes back into the most peaceful sleep. I may have been a little detached lately but getting to spend time with him has really been something.

I didn’t anticipate being moved in this way by the events of this past month. In truth, I imagined that things would unfold in a completely different way. It seems that by some strange alchemy of distance, time, perspective and forced-five-hour captivity, things have shifted and fallen rightly into their place. I have been moved.

30 Minute Playlist: PPL

Some posts back, I said that if I had an ocean and a beer in front of me, I was just about the happiest girl in the world. It took me a whole week to set myself straight on the matter.

I arrived in Recreio yesterday somewhat narrowly missing most of the big Carnival celebrations and the havoc it reeks* on Rio.

Arriving in Recreio felt like a return to order. I was able to take out a bit of money and buy some groceries. I did some laundry.

Almost immediately a series of frantic texts from a client whose timezone set her at 2am started flooding in. I tried to respond to her as a guy from Latvia entered the room and tried to strike up a conversation. The duelling conversations were rooted in urgency. One suggested that a meeting would go awry should these last minute questions not be answered immediately. The other was suddenly prematurely solidifying travel plans back to Rio in three days.

I was mid-sunscreen before it all began. Two people simultaneously saying: now.

When both seemed satiated, I took myself to the beach. I watched the ocean and my weary mind was baptized with the view of one sweeping wave after another.

Do you feel this way? It’s as though people emit some kind of frequency. For some, it comes through in a siren pitch. Others emit almost nothing at all. My job and the volume of people I work with is a cacophony of these frequencies. Sirens and all.

I’ve been lucky on this trip to meet some kind, funny and interesting people. Meeting people at the beginning of my trip was certainly a highlight for me. Though as I sit on the beach, witnessing the ocean, I can feel myself start to consciously untether myself from others.

Sometimes it takes a whole ocean and a cold beer.

I chose a beachside vendor that is run by two women. One is pregnant and the other is beating the shit out of some sugar cane. When I order my beer, the sugar-cane-tenderizer looks up with a sly grin and fiery eyes that suggest she is a force to be reckoned with. The pregnant woman looks out at the beach, stoic and calm. I don’t understand a word they said, but I imagine that as they hand me the beer and my change, they were saying ‘Go ahead. We’ve got you.’

Samba is being played on some kind of lo-fi sound system. Children are dancing and laughing. Their joy is infectious. Still, as I watch the ocean, the sounds fade out into the distance. It’s the sound of the waves the have slowed my mind. My arms are draped over the arm rests of my seat and my shoulders are pushed back. I look out at the mountains and at the ocean. I am seated like a Queen and it’s all mine.

No. Not the mountains. Not the ocean. I might have just compared myself to a Queen but I’m not entirely delusional.

This moment, this time, this ‘now‘. It’s all mine.

Today and for the remainder of this trip, I’m going to greedy for that now.

It’s going to come in the form of a simple ocean viewing, or a silent cab ride. It’s going to be on the balcony of my Airbnb with live jazz leaking out into the streets. It’s going to be all mine.

Sounds pretty damn good to me.

*not a spelling mistake.

Travel Playlist for Recreio:

https://open.spotify.com/user/12177791707/playlist/0C7mChj7dN52eo9NlggGaH?si=HVFCiqtdQ1O86-Lh_U1QIQ

 

Pictures of Recreio: