Tuesday, June 30, 2009

The Purge

I'm packing up my past. My apartment is a mess. I haven't been able to really stay on top of things since the surgery. Somehow, now, my eyesight is a bit clearer. I see dust everywhere.

I grab a big black garbage bag and begin dumping all the things that I don't associate with anymore into it; old photos, memos on the bulletin board, papers I don't need. I look at the piles of magazines that I haven't gotten to -- and wonder if I ever will.

Why are there not enough hours in the day?

I start a massive purge of my office. My hope is that if I get a little organized, and a little less cluttered -- the ideas will flow. At the very least, it will be a cleaner work environment. I start to toss away old notes from shows I've worked on. They've gone to air so I no longer need them. I barely take notice as I plunge away. Today is not about reminiscing. Today is about creating the space so that I can invite new things into my life.

I start to pull things off one of the bookshelves that I don't need; expired yellow pages, old trade magazines. I stop at a Lonely Planet of Italy -- and think back to nearly three years ago when I was there. How I sulked in Florence on my birthday. I flip through some of the pages and laugh at all the notes I scribbled into the margins.

I pause for a moment and think about that day -- alone in the piazza; sulking. How I walked along the river dripping in melancholy. What an idiot I was. I had the power within me all along to change my circumstances; and yet, I didn't. I moped. Negative. Sullen. Repelling everyone and everything around me.

I remember walking back towards town during sunset. An old man approached me. I forget his name now, but the lesson he taught me in those brief minutes that we walked together changed my life forever. I would never look at the glass as half-empty again.

I usually make it a rule to not talk to strangers, but this man reminded me of my grandfather. He was similar in appearance -- standing only a few centimeters (at most) above 5 feet. He had kind eyes; the type that always smile when they talk to you.

In any case, his English was fairly good and so he began to chastise me for moping about Florence on my own.

"This is Italy!" he said with all the excitement of a ringmaster, "It will give you whatever your heart desires!"

I was a bit hesitant to jump on board his happy train, but I listened -- after all, I had nothing else to do.

"What would you like to do tonight?" he asked.

Hmmm..."If I could do anything?" I prodded.

"Yes, if you could do anything what would you like to do tonight?"

I took a moment. I looked across the river at all the wonderful restaurants and the people enjoying wine and laughing on the patios adjacent to the piazzas. I thought about my lonely dinners of sandwiches that I would get from cafes. And so, I said "I would love to have drinks and a good conversation tonight -- on one of those patios over there," and pointed to the nicest restaurant in front of one of the most beautiful churches in Florence.

"Brava!" he said, and laughed like a crazy man. "Brava!"

By this point, we were approaching the Ponte Vecchio. He pointed to the bridge and said, "You cross that bridge, and by the time you reach the other side; you will meet friends -- and you will go to that restaurant that you desire."

I looked at him with a bit of skepticism. But he simply tipped his hat before turning away and said, "Do it. You'll see".

So, as I waived him goodbye and looked across the bridge, I shrugged my shoulders and thought Why not? At first I stepped slowly. Cautiously. Desperately trying to make eye contact with the people around me. I really wanted it to work. I really really wanted more than anything to sit on that patio and have a nice ending to my birthday.

As I neared the midway point -- no one bit. So, I decided, should I get to the end without an invitation, I would go and get some ice cream and try to make the most of this night -- without the sullenness. I started thinking about the flavour of gelato I wanted. I started appreciating the surroundings; laughter, the moon reflecting off the river, stars in the sky, the warm air. And, as I took my first step off the bridge and was about to head towards a cafe to have my nightly ritual of a coffee and a sandwich for dinner, I was apprehended -- no stampeded, by a group of guys.

"Come!" they said and motioned me over with a waive. Normally I would find this behaviour creepy, but there was a shift in the air. I had been told that I would have a great night before I stepped off the bridge. It was all just a little too coincidental. I walked over to where they were.

"Are you here? HERE? All by yourself?" said, one of them.

"No no...my friend wasn't feeling well so she's back at our hotel. I just was getting some ice cream" I said. It was a lie, but it was the smart thing to do given that I was actually by myself. Better they know that I'm accountable to someone and that someone is waiting for me to return.

"Ah, well then. Come with us. We're going for some wine. You like wine?" they asked.

"Does a dog like a bone?" I said. But the joke was a little over their heads. I think one of them actually got it. In any case. I joined their party -- and within 20 minutes I was sitting at the very cafe I had pointed out to the old man and was sipping red wine by the decanter, and having a great time. I didn't stay too long -- only a few hours. I told them I had to get back to my friend, but the truth was I had an early morning train to Venice.

We said our goodbyes. A couple of them walked me back -- as they were heading home as well, and I went to sleep that night with a lightness in my heart. I started to realize that if you create space -- if you are open to it; anything can happen. I learned that day -- on my 30th birthday to not focus on what was missing; but rather, what is about to come.

So, as I stood in my apartment a few years later, smiling as I flip through my travel guide -- remembering that day and the life lesson I learned; my heart skipped a beat. An ounce of excitement began to trickle in. I knew once I purged my apartment -- that the world of possibilities was endless. That as long as I didn't limit myself; anything could happen. I just had to take that first step across the bridge, and have a little faith.

And so, I started filling up garbage bags -- one after the other, with ornaments from the past that were inhibiting the future that I was about to chase after. I was now crossing the bridge. And anything could happen.



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