Saturday, 12 May 2012

Ghosts of the past, present, and future


Close to our old home is a wonderful little used bookstore run by a lovely husband-and-wife couple I've gotten to know well over the years.

The first book I bought there had been out-of-print for ages, and the only copies that appeared on Abebooks were $200+. It showed up at their place for $75: still steep, but not excessively so. Since I packed up the house, I've not been over much -- I have boxes and boxes of books in storage -- so three or so weeks ago, I had no intention of buying anything in the short term, but I did ask if they ever got in any copies of Neil Peart's Ghost Rider.

Closed for repair

And the response was what I suspected it would be. Rarely: it's the sort of book that when people buy it, they keep it. But I can put it on your want list and drop you an email if one shows up. That I could manage.

So imagine my surprise when I got an email on two days later? Someone came in barely 24 hours after I'd been there with a box of books to sell, and Ghost Rider was sitting on top.

Spring growth

(And since picking it up, I've had two people, with whom I had relationships that went sour years ago, show back up in my life, and reconciling those appearances is still ongoing. And other people, whose lives have intersected mine at strange and fascinating points, but who I had never met before, have appeared: it's enough to make a person believe in predetermination.)

I brought the book with me here to Saskatoon, and finished it Thursday. Although I had taken it out from the public library last summer, I didn't so much read it as sob hysterically while turning the pages, so in more than a few ways, it was familiar, but I discovered so much more this time.

Visitor Centre

Surviving the last year or so -- I cringe at "recovery" and "growth" seems so artificial -- has not been a smooth path, but it is progressing. Most importantly, from my perspective, was the shift from having the knee-jerk reaction to "and how are you today?" be "less suicidal, thanks." Strangely enough, it was recently hearing that a friend had hung himself in his basement shortly after my pain began last year which drove any even vague thoughts about offing myself out of my mind, and I've started living my life for me again, instead of because the wee mannie would have been mad at me if I hadn't carried on.

Powerful medicine 2

As well as producing the work -- a process that's going quite well, actually: I have been working on the knitting installation project this week -- part of the healing process means that I'm doing new things and going different places. One I'm particularly looking forward to is seeing Rush at Air Canada Centre in Toronto on October 14. Between now and then, I'm going to be on the road for awhile: Saskatoon for most of next week, various locations in Ontario in June (and August, September, and October), and points south after that.

The concert, and the parties with my friends and fellow attendees, is certainly a big part of moving on, but I'm not exactly sure what the consequences will be.

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