I must clear my mind and think of the words of Lord Buddha: "The secret of health for both mind and body is not to mourn for the past, nor to worry about the future, but to live the present moment wisely and earnestly ..."
Which is not to say that one shouldn't acknowledge and learn from the past, or plan for the future. It's about being true to the moment; living earnestly is a beautiful way of putting it.
So if I meditate on this, attempt to see past it and through it, where will I find myself? Perhaps I'll reach out and grasp the first thought that comes to mind. Will it melt in my hand like a snowflake, as random thoughts and lines of poetry melted on my lips? Or will it fall and settle, forming sparkling snow dunes? So, so many thoughts ...
I thought about people, places, past and present. I savoured the present, with it's earthy past - the soil on which the present was planted - and zest (I'm sure there's a better word, but I can't think of it right now ...) for the future. Truly, though, I suspect I may be too tied to the past. I allow myself to become too comfortable with my surroundings in an unhealthy way some times. But I don't want to talk about me or analyse myself, not now. I want, instead, to think and speak about the universe's infinite capacity to delight and inspire me.
One thought I had tonight was "what's the word for someone who loves people?" I know the word for those who dislike (hate?) people is "misanthrope". Such a lovely sounding word for something so poisonous. Would someone who likes, loves, cares about people be a 'humanitarian'? The Oxford English minidictionary defines humanitarian as "concerned with human welfare". Is that what it really means? It doesn't seem to be enough, if that's what it really means. I would need another word to describe how I feel about people. Because I do love people. I hate what many do, but I try not to hate them and focus my energy on loving the best human beings have to offer. We are so very flawed, but also beautiful.
A random thought floats to the surface ... Feet padding across the dirty snow, hushed footsteps whisper through a Winter night ... I thought of the many doors in my mind, all leading to thoughts, and suddenly feeling lost, moments becoming memories tucked into boxes and hidden in closets. Chance meetings of people - Shum (I could swear that's what he said), Adil (was that it? am I remembering correctly that people called him Ade?), and the guy in the hat who asked me about Africa. We all had good conversations. It was nice to be recognized and to represent my Nigerian self.
As I've said before (or have I?), I don't claim to be Nigerian in the sense that Nigerians are, but then who are Nigerians? They do not have a single identity. They are diverse and yet there is a sense of shared understanding, if not identity, between those that I have met. Perhaps it had something to do with living in Abuja. A very strange place with some serious problems, but a great place to meet people from all over the country. Perhaps the same could be said of Lagos, although I got a different feeling about Lagos when I was there. Of course, I only visited, which is a big difference from living there. But, again, I've gone off on a tangent ...
What I had originally intended to say concerned the guy in the hat and how he saw the African side of me. Or, rather, in the clothes that I was wearing, which is an expression of my personality. I was wearing the pants (or trousers, as I learned to call them) that Mary's tailor sewed for me and a length of matching fabric wrapped around my head. Putting on these clothes feels good, although the trousers have become a bit tight (hey, it's Winter in Canada, putting on a bit of weight is a good thing right?). He recognized the pattern on the cloth as an African design, though he didn't know where I got it from. I can't remember exactly what he said, but I think he asked me where I was from in Africa or if I was from Africa - something like that. I replied "I'm Canadian, but I've also been told I'm Nigerian".
I asked where he was from. He replied "Africa", which seems like something many people from different parts of this vast continent say, at least in the conversations I've had here. I said "but where in Africa?" Is it that he doesn't think I'll know the place he's talking about or ... and why would he think that? Have people not known when he's told them where he is from or is it something else? He said he was from East Africa and either proceeded to list a number of countries from this region. I was astounded at how many countries he'd lived in. Kenya, Tanzania, Sudan, and possibly Ethiopia? The music was loud and it was, at times, difficult to her what he was saying. He concluded by stating that he'd been born in Zambia.
I told him how I lived and worked in Nigeria for a year and a half, that it was under my skin now. I might have said "Africa's here" holding a hand to my chest "it's in my blood". And he smiled. I meant every word. I don't claim to know what Africa is through and through and I even wonder what it means some times, whether such a diverse and vast collection of places can be spoken or thought of in the singular. From what I've been told by others, there are indeed marked differences between nations and regions in Africa, but there are also key commonalities. It's not unusual. Is it really so different from the 'Americas'? I mean, just look at Canada and the United States - There are noticeable similarities between these nations, but also significant differences between places and people.
And, truly, I could write all night (which has become morning), but I ought to give my mind some rest. There is, after all, time for more thoughts and hopefully some decent poetry, in the future. For now I must revel in the glory of sleep, something I also love doing.
