look, a chimney

"the beauty of experience is that experience is always open, because further exploration is possible... experience is never finished, it remains unfinished. while you are living, how can your experience be finished? your experience is growing, is is changing, it is moving. it is continuously moving from the known into the unknown and from the unknown into unknowable. and remember, experience has a beauty because it is unfinished. some of the greatest songs are those which are unfinished. some of the greatest books are those which are left unfinished. some of the greatest art is that which is unfinished. the unfinished has a beauty

OSHO, "creativity"

migrations.

is there an ulterior motive
to the bare branches of autumn;
their hands dropping hints
while they toss summer coats to the ground?

are yellow leaves meant to hit like a slap in the face,
to make a mark on my pale winter skin for staring so rudely.
or are the trees ashamed in the nude,
their aim to place maple hands strategically over eyelids,
meant to cover my view?

*
i'm inclined to believe we're all in is together;
that the branches lend their leaves as encouragement,
handing out 'there, there' pats on the back in lieu of spoken sentiments
when their song birds have flown south for the season.

vice or virtue?

these fingers could scrawl ink onto empty scrapbooks like they can type a storm.
if they haven't forgotten how;
now accustomed to their computer love affair, rehearsed pitter-pattering across square letters and numbers.

if only they could wrap their weight around a brand-spankin' HB.
like they do their their heads around technology.

forget creative suits and tabbed browsing,
get me back to sheets of paper. give me scissors and a glue stick.

.
can an old dog forget new tricks?


*danika does a cut and paste, adds a link, previews then publishes.*
hypocrite.

. . . see more of this.

looking back, part 3

enough as is.
NOVEMBER 2007

these days. those days. some days, i worry i'm searching down the wrong streets. terrified that somewhere the map was misread, the directions misplaced. that i'm peddling in vain; this bicycle remains stationary despite my best efforts. i start to think about each minuscule decision, glance, or remark far too analytically than they deserve. these thoughts often stir and pace in spiraling circles down an ice-coated slope. like a slapped-at, worn-out tether ball they get trapped in this ruthless mind.

but there are times i've seen them escape. it happens most often while biking to and from the appointments and responsibilities i've attached my name to. it's during this time-in-between, the time not dedicated to neither departure or arrival gates, that they get away and make their own adventures.

on my route, i take a right just over the osborne bridge and cut through the legislative gardens to the foot path along the assiniboine. most often, it's somewhere around here on my way to the forks that these thoughts make a break.

they take daring trips on sailors' ships. find themselves a river they can float away on. and now it's coming on christmas, folks are cutting down trees. the waters will seize, but they've found themselves a river they can skate away on.

with impending snow, i'm anxiously anticipating what will happen when my route will be forced to merge with traffic on the streets. soon i'll be clutching bus transfers instead of bicycle handlebars. i'm worried what i might become without these two-wheeling sessions to relieve my easily-stifled mind.

but i've devised a plan to split this crazy scene.

i'll follow them there, a stowaway to my own thoughts, and find the river is so wide i can teach my feet to fly away.
that's when i'll notice i'm not so hard to handle, selfish or sad,
and that love's more than just a patch of fancy stitch-work on my sleeve.
i'll notice that what looked like a suspect alley in all the instructions and manuals is the perfect hideout i've been searching for all along.

that i've been circling that alley all the while, i've no need to go anywhere else.

and that, right now, i'm enough as is.

ordinary happiness: a reminder

i can't get enough of these. i borrowed (read: stole) them home from a calendar that came in a friend's newspaper when i was in australia (thanks joe and family) and they've been adorning my walls ever since. they're by an aussie artist. big fan.



check it out >> www.leunig.com.au

looking back, part 2.

(originally posted SEPTEMBER, 2007:)

how great is it when a bunch of tiny good things become the subliminal building blocks of a good day.

i didn't get and A+ on my midterm, win the lotto or get a pay raise, but today was a good day for me.

there was just enough yogurt left in the container for my breakfast of fruit-nut muesli. i managed to carry my teabag across the room to the bin without spilling a drop; tea steeped to perfection till the last sip. i met my new house for the next three months and we get along amazingly; i couldn't help smiling at all of its twenty-something walls in glorious admiration. i was free to accept the first appointment available to get my tattoo touch-up. the kitten on lilac street got off the road just in time before she was run over by some heedless driver. i managed to fit a satisfying nap into my afternoon, woke just in for a dinner date at breads & circuses, and i got green light after green light despite the fact that i was driving home during rush hour.

with that in mind, i hope this new thing called university contributes to one of the small things that make my days to come good ones, too.

. . . . . . . . .

tiny dancing silhouettes

it was the birds that made me turn left and look up.

that's when i saw your bike was riding towards me,

and learned that the moon dances with waves on the horizon.

three hundred sixty-five spins later

i was reading my old blog posts this morning. and it turns out i'm as predictable as the seasons. i'm okay with that. for today at least. here's the story:

-danika meets autumn-
danika: "wow this is awesome. you're pretty. plans sound great. i think you and i are going to be great friends!" *humming a catchy tune, glimmer in her eye*
"wait... what? school? textbooks? hmmm, i don't know about this... aaaahh. i can't handle this."
-danika recoils inter her bedroom and won't come out besides to work, whine, and pick up bad habits-
autumn: "wha' happen'? calm down girl!! i thought we've been over this already! everyone's in the same boat and you can do it! remember how we talked about balance? you were doing really well not too long ago..."
danika: "yeah but... really?! ok... o.k. maybe. well can i just take a time out and wallow for a bit in bed and maybe bake some cookies, paint and organize my junk collections and play with my bird figurines to calm me down?..."
autumn: "well i'd hoped you'd be over that by now, and you really should be doing school work or something productive, but fine. take your time, get over yourself, and we'll regroup. here's an extra sunny spot to nap in..."

SO! i digress... what i'm saying is, looking back on past years (and probably ahead to the next), this is typical, my anxiety will come and go. and when i'm up it's the downs i know it need.

anyways, here's the proof:

2007:

"first i was a hatchling, waiting for my little bones to form...

next I was a fledging leaping from the nest despite the fall. oh how we fall..."

i've been pacing around this house for days, hoping the memories that once brought me up will recognize me again soon and put some fire in the belly. been driving in circles around the city, trying to grasp all the moments that can be mine and ours. i'm overwhelmed with ideas of achievement and victory; terrified by the reality of failure, regret.

i need my inspirations to be more than vibrations in the air.

motivate me. motivate me.

"i landed in the garden longing for the view behind the fence, oh my god. i prayed my bones weren't brittle, for the air we float on can feel dense; oh the weight of it aches."

i want to get lost in the nooks and crannies of my life. feel my way through the dark of the crawlspace under the stairway to the next steps. let the anticipation of the first day of school hit me like kindergarten, and family calm me like a lazy sunday. at the end of the day, my mum's still my biggest fan.

i need my bravery to be more than a fleeting feeling in my chest.

jump. jump. see danika jump.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..
2006:
(excerpt)

sitting in the internet cafe three blocks away from 'home' and about equally as far from the beach, i feel that you expect i've got a glamorous tan to work on and tiki-torch-in-the-sand parties to attend. i hate to disappoint, but while there may be some sort of truth in those things (in a more realistic sunscreen-y potluck-y way), my reality lies elsewhere...

of course my excitements, connections and daily grind has changed since reaching melbourne. but right now i'm living a life quite settled and telling tales of day ins-and-outs would read as much a list of activities as would anyone elses (for the most part...maybe a little more sand and sun than the forecasts call for in winnipeg). cleaning, groceries, work, wandering walks with myself and with various companions, window shopping, meals in and out and bbqs and drinks with friends...
...

the truth is, right now i'm dealing with most of the same confusions, frustrations, and problems as i ever was before- some days i feel like i'm in the middle of a quarter-life crisis, trying to find meaning in where i am and what i'm doing; searching to learn what matters most to me and finding a way to surround myself with those things.

i am trying to balance my lessons, memories and thoughts of my past, with my determination to live with appreciation and consciousness in the present, and with my anticipation for things to come.

right now to me this means:

*past* appreciating more with every day how much my friends and family mean to me, and how these connections have been made to last. i have built my life around these people and have so much love for them. i miss hosting waffle-frenchtoast-mimosa-nutella brunches and wine and cheeses, crocheting on corydon and dancing recklessly and crying my eyes out with my homegirls, licking popsicles in the apartment at 2 am, and being able to sit with someone who knows who i am and where i come from and will join me in ups and downs and hold me in their arms the whole way through. these are the things that make me certain i will eventually be ready to go back home.

*present* learning what i'm made of (both good and bad), appreciating a whole new kind of relationship that comes with traveling, and reminding myself to relax (because essentially i have taken a year-long holiday and i'll be darned to spend so much time stressing unnecessarily...though easier said than done).

*future* excitement about my next flight booked to indonesia (now i'm dreaming of relaxing on over-commercialized beaches in bali then heading west to trek through the unknowns of a whole new world, and a rendezvous with julia), plans to move on to bus around new zealand, and then meet family and friends back in australia.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..

and so i keep calm and carry on,
stay happy, healthy, safe,
and keep reminding myself that 'it's all good' (thanks to mum).

(supplemental goods: In the Spring of 1939, with war against Germany all but inevitable, the British Government's Ministry of Information commissioned a series of propaganda posters to be distributed throughout the country at the onset of hostilities. It was feared that in the early months of the war Britain would be subjected to gas attacks, heavy bombing raids and even invasion. The posters were intended to offer the public reassurance in the dark days which lay ahead.)