Ride for charity

I've donated money to charity before, and I guess that is easily done with the click of a mouse button. But I've never actually embarked on a charity bike ride where I give more than just money, but my physical strength and body for a great cause.

A few days ago I saw flyers around the faculty building calling for volunteers to bike to raise money. I love cycling, and during the weeks of Summer I made a vow to myself to go somewhere far and long at least once a week. If I can do that, why not do it while raising money for charity? So I signed up, an immediately received an enthusiastic response from the organisers, as I appear to be the only graduate student interested and involved (I got another friend to join, so now there are two!)

The ride will honour Dugald Christie, who during his lifetime strove to raise awareness about the importance of having access to justice. Justice, in the broad sense of the term, is a right to be heard, a right to redress, a right to have a wrong righted, a right to have a human right confirmed and cemented. The issue of access to justice people often to associate with developing countries with weak legal systems, in situations where the disenfranchised and disempowered have their rights trampled on by the wealthy and powerful. But even in Canada, a relatively affluent country, there are many who live just above the poverty line and who do not qualify for legal aid. There are many more still who have not the knowledge or understanding or skills to be adequately represented in court.

Tomorrow we will set off from Montreal, and ride some 80km toward Shawbridge in the Laurentian Mountains, where there is a cabin we can stay at for the night. Each participant has to raise some C$50, which is actually not a lot... but combined the money adds up. This year, the second time the event is being organised to raise awareness about legal aid, the money will go to a organisation working with refugees and new immigrants.

The cause has something dear to my heart, for I too am an immigrant (to be) in this country. But I have the means and wherewithal to come to this country on 'pleasant' terms and establish myself in relative comfort. That may not be the case for many immigrants or refugees who have had to struggle to leave their homelands to come to a foreign land in search of a better, happier and more secure life. These, and many others, are people who forgotten, who most need the financial and legal help in fighting a system that may at times be so caught up in the hardness of legal provisions and cold lawyering that the softer, more human(e) needs and considerations are sidelined or dismissed altogether.

It'll be a long ride, but I don't think it'll be all that foreign. Mind over body, mind over body I keep telling myself. And after soliciting donations from friends and colleagues, I have managed to raise around one dollar and enthusiastic support and encouragement for each kilometre I cycle (one way).

Now to actually complete the ride!

OSM concert for Haiti

In the oppressive heat and humidity of an evening at summer's end, a crowd gathered in downtown Montreal.

Hundreds, if not over a thousands, stood in the faint, warm drizzle, and let music and emotions raining over their ears and hearts. Before them, on a makeshift shift stage in the middle of a square, was the Orchestre Symphonique de Montreal (OSM) under the direction of Kent Nagano. His iconic long, wild greying hair danced as he gestured before the score of musicians, who together magically emitted the renowned melody that can calm even the most hardened and embittered souls. In the silence of darkness, the city seemed to come to a standstill, basking in the moving voice of soprano Marie-Jose Lord:

...Quand j’aurais chanté dix mille ans
Dans Sa chorale des anges
Je n’aurai fait que commencer
À chanter ses louanges

De tous les dangers de la vie,
La grâce est mon abri...

My skin crawled as I watched the crowd sway and hum in unison. I too swayed and hummed with the crowd. There was an unspoken connection, for for the last two hours we have been united by music, by that universal language that spoke of fear, of joy, of hope and despair. Music that may have meant different things to different people, but standing there, bearing the uncertain mood swings of the sky, we shared a connection with the people of Haiti.

There was a connection through the bonds of humanity and charity, one that transcended the distance, that broke through race and colour. Briefly, but even briefly can seem an eternity, people who have never met one another were brought together there and then listening to the same notes, same words that flowed on stage.

Seven months after the devastating earthquake, Haiti has almost completely disappeared from the news... pushed aside by the latest (foiled) terror attempts, by other disasters both natural and manmade, by the flamboyance and debauchery of celebrities.

But tonight, at OSM's season opening concert, music and poetry again reminded us of the plight of a people and country still shaken from the raw violence of nature. We, those standing on that square, may never be able to share the same sense of desperation and suffering of Haitians still waiting for clean water, food, basic medical supplies or a secure roof over their heads. But through the live broadcast that transmitted images and sounds from Montreal to Port-au-Prince, many Haitians could see from the crowd of people who have gathered and who have generously donated that they have not yet been forgotten.

fo nou rêvé mezanmi
fo nou carpé mezanmi
fo nou marché mezanmi
fo nou parlé mezanmi
fo nou sonjé mezanmi
fo nou partagé mezanmi
espéré mezanmi
?"arrivé" mezanmi

Second year in Canada

It's been two years already.

Two years since I took that long, long flight across the Atlantic in search of a new place, of a new home. I was uprooted, willingly so. But then, it seemed all so uncertain whether I would find my footing here, whether I could root myself here in Canada. Despite all the excitement and amazement associated with arriving in a new country and new city, the unknowns and obstacles of foreignness stood in the way.

Looking back, I think I have done quite well for myself.

Not everything has been smooth sailing, and I cannot say I have really spent the entire length of the two years that I am supposed to have been in Canada in Canada. But I am pursuing my own life, and beginning finally the search for the happiness and possibilities that for a long time I was denied... or that I denied myself.

What I found was a sense of belonging. A sense of freedom and openness that is as wide and free as the land itself. On the way, I have found and consolidated friendships that allow me to sail through rough and difficult times. I have a cat, just the thought, let alone sight, of whom is able to make my heart squirmy with love and affection. And steadily, or at least I should hope so, I am working toward some kind of career and discovering what it is that interests me.

Canada has given me renewed hope. Two years on, I am often still buoyed by that sense of excitement and range of possibilities that await me. Most of all, I can finally come home at the end of any day, and say I am home.

"It's good to talk..."

I like BT's company motto "It's good to talk...", because often talking can do wonders, breakdown barriers and misunderstandings.

After yesterday's facebook message from the friend, to which I replied, I met up with him over lunch and had a long talk. There were moments I felt I was under 'attack', being blamed in a way for the reason behind the breakdown in our friendship. There were moments I just wanted to get up and leave, because really I just felt so misunderstood and wronged, and even surprised that a lot of fuss can be made of what to me appeared to be of such insignificant detail.

But we talked, even if at moments we just sat opposite one another and looked at one another, or looked beyond one another (or at least I did) to avoid the intensity of the other person's gaze. We tried to recount and explain what triggered a distancing between us, the reasons (for there are never just one, but many over a period of time) for the tensions and strains. Like often, I do not believe that one person is particularly at fault... my experience of family feuds and listening to friends who have become estranged is that lack of communication can breed fear and suspicion, and eventually distrust and animosity. For my friend and I, it was probably at that beginning stage of this process, and I was glad we stopped and took the time out to talk things over.

I admitted that I've been feeling strained in recent months, not least because for a while till early summer this year I seemed to be in constant travel mode and overshadowed by uncertainties surrounding where I will be in the next month. This uncertainty and 'floating-ness' makes me sad, and I feel the world, my world of comfort and security, crumbling and disintegrating. Maybe because of that I have been moody, withdrawn, easily frustrated and angered, and maybe that transpires in my interactions with others... I admit my 'wrongs', and try to contain myself. But a few moments during our talk I just broke down and teared. Not outright cry and weep... but sometimes the memories and echoes of the last few months, from deaths to hospital beds, from my split concerns about the wellbeing of my mum to the wellbeing of my adopted cat... from my almost incessant struggle with loneliness to my search for the warmth and stability that a potential relationship can offer... all these taken together, mingled and turned around day in and day out has taken a heaven place in my heart and mind. And even someone like me who does not like to 'burden' others with my deepest problems and fears, who has a smile plastered on his face almost constantly, has to break, has to breakdown.

We talked, and 'made up'. I gave my friend a big, long hug, an expression and appreciation of what he means to me still, and what he has meant to me since we met almost two years ago.

It's good to talk... to talk away the misunderstandings, suspicions, dislikes... to talk about the little things that bother one another, about the personal characteristics and flaws that over time get on one another's nerves.

And at the end of it, it feels like a fresh start.

Misunderstandings...

I suddenly got a message on facebook tonight. Surprised, and a bit dumbfounded, I read through the message from a friend.

In it, the friend said how disappointed he was of the way our friendship has disintegrated in recent times, citing examples of how my words, actions or silence contributed to that. I cannot say that I have not been a little distant, or that I am innocent of things I said or did that put a strain on our friendship. But I never realised that being distant can lead to alienating people. Perhaps I simply do not know how best to balance a friendship, especially one that's laden with a history of intimacy...

It's too easy to misunderstand people. What one person wants to say and how it is received in the ears of another can sometimes be very different or completely the opposite. But is not intention what ultimately counts? Intention, as the monk in the mountains has repeatedly told me, distinguishes between whether an action or thought is right or wrong... If I don't intend to hurt or humiliate a person, then I am not guilty of hurting that person, right? But things can sometimes be turned upside down that I wonder if that still makes sense anymore...

Perhaps the best thing is to say nothing, to do nothing, to not interact at all with anyone, so nobody will be hurt by misinterpretations or misunderstandings.

Yes, it may be true that the world of people is too complex and complicated, and that life can be much simpler to retreat into the mountains and be a hermit who does nothing else but meditate on the meaning of existence with a goal to end suffering. Only then can your thoughts and actions harm no-one else but yourself...

Empty of feeling

The long awaited kiss. The long awaited date and potential. When it's over, it's all over. Left behind, , is a vacant space, void of thoughts, void of feeling. After the fury and heat of the moment, I look back and look deep inside to see only emptiness.

Is there anything wrong with me, I wonder. Where is the fire of passion? Perhaps it was never there. Perhaps it was all lust and longing for companionship. But real companionship needs time, needs a spark, needs the fertiliser of laughter, needs an air of mutual feelings and connection. But I do not feel it, even after the date has gone.

Instead I feel I may have deceived the other person... misled him to feel that there is more to it than there really is, at least from my side.