I heard once that a person was somehow caught in the middle of a tornado - that is, inside the sphere of powerful, massive winds - and was left completely untouched and unharmed. I remember years ago watching this person on the television, describing how it was nearly calm inside the whirl of gusting air, and for some reason that strange imagery popped into my mind as I sat down in front of the computer, wondering how I am feeling these days and how to write about it.

I suppose that imagery could accurately describe the curious state I'm in right now. I feel as though I am wide-eyed, breathing in so much change and energy, yet somehow standing still within the chaos to quietly observe the beautiful, almost ethereal shifts that are taking place on a grand scale in my life. I feel as though I am watching things unfold in slow-motion, even though I know that in reality events, people and places are moving faster around me than ever before. Somehow, perhaps with the help of some meditation, I've been able to find that gift I once had which allowed me to filter everything in order to grasp the essential, the meaning, the beauty. It reminds me of that gorgeous passage in Milan Kundera's novel, Immortality, when he slowly describes the little details of an old woman as she is swimming. The ability seems to have settled back into my being after I had a startling thought. For many years I've looked back on my past and mused on the lessons learned, and found myself occasionally thinking, If only I could go back and tell the Camille of the past that she could've done this, or she should've done that, or even just to console her and tell her she was going to be ok after all. But sitting on a crowded bus full of jaded passengers, I suddenly realized that I miss the slowness of my old personality, that ability I mentioned that allowed me to enjoy the present and find more meaning. So instead of looking down on my past in a condescending manner, I had the Camille of the past resurface and remind me that I needed to find that essence and ability again. All of a sudden I smiled to myself - probably looking quite foolish on my own on the bus - and since then I've felt a sense of peace growing in my spirit.

So coming back to the tornado, things around me are very lively. The training at work had been crazy, that is until I had that little realization on the bus on Friday. Since then, I've calmed right down and feel like I'm breathing again, despite my busy schedule. The guy I'm training is turning out to be really kind and easy to work with, which is a great help because I'm an awful teacher. My brain just functions too quickly and takes off in too many directions at once to be able to relay proper instructions when it's really important. Anyway, the party on Saturday really helped me to relax as well. A nice mix of people from different groups, good conversations, laughs and some booze of course. At one point I went out on the shared balcony and saw my neighbour with some friends of his, and realized halfway through a conversation that I was speaking with the actor from the Alberta Scene burlesque show. It was quite surreal to have seen and really enjoyed the play earlier this week, and then to find myself on my balcony, slightly "altered" from the wine and growing fatigue, and meeting the actor in a completely different atmosphere. It would've been nice to talk with him longer, but by 3 a.m. I marched to my bedroom and crashed out for the night. Great party or not, I couldn't afford to miss the Mother's Day Brunch with all my relatives the following morning. How would that look? "Hey Mom, sorry I can't make it, I'm hungover. But thanks for everything, and see you later!" Right.

It was also Adele's 30th birthday on Sunday, which we celebrated over supper at my folks' place. It was nice to finally stop and chill out with my family... And Fender! Adele and Randy have a new addition to the family, a heartbreakingly gorgeous german short-haired puppy. I felt the sweetest feeling washing over me as I held him in my arms. Who needs kids? All I need is a cute dog that greets me when I get home, sits near me as I read a book, and accompanies me on walks.

But you know, even if I feel more peaceful, I still have moments of pain to sort through. I feel as though certain events I lived through a few months ago are hazy, lost in space, harder and harder to grasp. I suppose the only thing to do is to pull in the anchor and let go, give in to the movement of change and subtle mystery. I don't know the science behind a tornado but I know the potential for damage and violence, so I'm just going to try and shelter myself within it - just like that odd person who lived to tell - instead of trying to calculate its course and how I can avoid it. And with tongue-in-cheek I say, it's what's inside that counts!