To Really Live

The wigglers have been at work, turning the soil over and over. I brood over how rapidly lives are been spent on a heady mix of the good, bad, and the ugly because we have grown addicted to a pace and a slew of expectations. the currency of time isn’t something we have learned to trade well, often running after, behind, or feeling like we have lost it.

In 2004 when I began blogging, I rummaged around for a way to represent my space well and landed with “to really live” — a longing lodged deep within me since childhood.

Growing up in poverty caused me to ask many questions about life. I saw neighbours lie to each other so that they don’t have to share resources. I wished to have just a wee bit of what I saw in the homes of some of my rich relatives, but noticed they looked very unhappy. I found joy can arrive with no fanfare and often surprises us with its arrival, like when my mom cracked a joke while we were walking after a rainfall to the market, trying to avoid our feet getting muddy.

I wondered about the point of life, and what makes some live large, well, deep, and strong. As I grew and studied Sociology, Politics and Philosophy, I wondered how we can shift from existence to real living and to thriving, individually and together.

When Covid hit, a seed fell and rested gently on this soil. I knew I had to tend to it. With my definite…