For Those Who Have Gone Before

The two portraits hang on the wall in the dining room, as they have for years.  Two portraits, of two women that I have never met and will never meet, at least in this life.  One is my father's great-grandmother, the other my mother's great-grandmother; they would be my great-great grandmothers.

I do not know anything else about them - I do not know their names, or where they lived, or what their hopes and dreams were.  Were these women happy?  Did they live full and complete lives?  Or did they live lives of bitterness and regret?  Their eyes hold no answers, as they gaze into mine from across the room.

Sometimes I stand before the portraits, searching for the features of my face in their mute faces.

These women are my ancestors.

Also my ancestors: my grandmother, who sometimes tells me stories of her childhood, unbelievable as it may seem that she was ever as young and foolish and hopeful as I am now; my parents, who were also young once, who had lives before I existed, who gave up twenty years of their lives to raise a daughter.

How can I thank you, all of you who have gone before me, known and unknown?

My other grandparents died before I was born or when I was very young.  I cannot tell you the names or stories of those ancestors who came before them.  I do not know what countries they came from, when or why they set sail from their homes somewhere in Europe to come to this continent of North America.  I do not live in a place where my ancestors lived for centuries before me.

To those who have gone before, how can I know you, how can I honour you, if I do not even know your names?

People that were not my ancestors lived in this place many years ago, walking these hills, raising their families, while my ancestors were off living in Ireland or Italy or Ukraine or wherever.  I have never been to those places, never left this continent of North America.  I walk these hills and think about those who walked them before me.

To those who have gone before, how can I honour you, how can I remember you?

I am not one, I am many.  Each gene that I carry is a piece of someone who has gone before me.  Each breath of air that I breathe contains molecules that were breathed in and exhaled by thousands of others before me.  The leaves of the trees growing outside my window contain molecules and atoms that may once have been part of the body of someone living on this land, many years ago.

All life on Earth began in the oceans of our young planet many aeons ago, and has since evolved and grown and developed into many "endless forms most beautiful."  We are all cousins.  We all share the same ancestors.

Like what you read?  Please visit my new blog: At the Edge of the Ordinary.

Finally, Spring

Although winter ended early here, for weeks it seemed as though the temperatures refused to warm up and spring did not progress.  Finally, however, there can no longer be any doubt that spring has finally arrived.  Temperatures in the last few days have been as high as 25 degrees Celsius (77 Fahrenheit), the wind has finally been more or less still, and people have been wearing shorts, t-shirts, and sandals.

All around campus things are blooming and leafing out.  I spent one idyllic evening wandering about, camera in hand, in a blissful state, taking photographs of every blossom and flower that I saw.

Magnolia blossom.

Unusual-looking yellow tulip.

I can barely tolerate the hours I must spend trapped inside, studying for final exams.  Luckily, the second week of final exams is beginning.  My third final exam will be this afternoon, and only two will remain.  In less than a week I will be packing up my remaining belongings and heading back home for the summer.  Soon, I tell myself, soon.

A wild saskatoon bush is blooming just outside my window, and every time I glance out I become slightly intoxicated just by the sight of it, gleaming with white blossoms and transforming an otherwise mundane corner of the parking lot into a corner of some enchanted land.  No wonder I find it difficult to concentrate on studying.

News, Updates, and Questions

If you have time, check out the comments section of my earlier post, "In Defense of Introverts"; there's been some interesting discussion and things being said over there.

Also, pages!  I don't know if this is a new feature in Blogger or if I have just noticed it now.  At any rate, I have now added three pages: an "about me" page, a page of recommended reading, and a page listing all of the books that I have read this year (if you're as nerdy about that sort of thing as I am).  The links to these pages are located under the header image.  The descriptions of the books on the recommended reading list are fairly brief so far, but hopefully I will expand them and add/remove books to/from the list over time.

Does anyone ever look at any of the blog posts that I highlight in the "more reading" section in the sidebar (below the blogroll)?  If not, I will remove this section.

Would you like to see a different header image (i.e., the picture behind the title at the top of the page)?  I've tried a few different headers in the past, but I keep coming back to the maple leaf in its autumn colours.  Now that it is spring (ignoring that freak blizzard yesterday), however, I think that I should have a picture that is more, well, spring-like.  What do you think?

Finally, I would like to thank all of the recent commenters and followers.  I may be an introvert, but I still like to know that I'm not talking to myself here.  Thank you!

In Defense of Introverts

It is another windy day here, which is hardly a surprise.  The rare day that is completely windless would be far more surprising.  The sky is grey and threatens rain, but I am skeptical: a rainy day here is as unlikely as a windless day.  My thermometer read nearly 15 degrees Celsius (around 6o Fahrenheit) when I left my room, but it feels cooler as I shiver in the cold breeze.

Some raindrops actually have the temerity to fall: on me, my paper, and my backpack, which sits beside me in the dry grass.  People walking by must think I'm crazy, sitting out here all alone.  For a moment, I see myself as they might see me: a young woman with messy red hair and glasses, sitting hunched over a notebook as if for warmth, writing madly and glancing up somewhat nervously now and then.  (I am always a bit nervous when I write in public spaces because I have this irrational fear that someone is going to come up behind me and read what I have written over my shoulder.)  What do they think of me?

It is at times like this that I feel, briefly, like some kind of freak, someone perpetually on the outside, always walking up the stairs when everyone else is going down, or showing up ten minutes early when everyone else is ten minutes late.

I am an introvert.  I am not shy.  I do not need to "come out of my shell" or "get out more."  I am not really as boring as I seem.  I would prefer having one close friend rather than knowing several people, but not very well.  Public speaking doesn't scare me, but I am terrible at engaging in ordinary conversations with people that I don't know.

Sometimes I get the suspicion that other people find me boring.  After all, I don't do anything.  Unlike other people I know, I don't balance school work with raising a family or with a part-time job, travel, go to movies, visit people outside of class, go to concerts, have dinner out, go hiking, or do other things.  No, all I do is go to class, study, read, write, go for solitary walks - fairly boring things, to many extroverts.

But lately, my introversion has been challenged.  Several people I know have actually been seeking me out in class and going out of their way to talk to me.  As someone who is more used to being the person sitting in the corner who no one talks to, I am a bit puzzled and alarmed.  Have I changed?  Have I possibly become less of an introvert?  I feel a bit uneasy, as though these people (kind and well-meaning as they are) are forcing me to become someone I am not.

Introverts get a bad reputation: synonyms for introvert includes words such as loner, brooder, and wallflower, while introverted leads us to cold, secretive, antisocial, and unfriendly.  Not exactly the most flattering descriptions.  But why should this be?  Why should the person who keeps to herself and sits quietly in the corners of the world be viewed with suspicion?

The rain amounts to nothing but I am too cold to sit outside any longer.  I pack up my backpack and set off towards home.  Within minutes I am within the warmth of my room again, typing these words into the computer, my confidence restored in my inevitable introverted nature.

Introverts everywhere, celebrate your introversion - quietly and alone.

Like what you read?  Please visit my new blog: At the Edge of the Ordinary.