Sunlight and water

Late at night

Too many questions

What do you want?
What's wrong?
How are you?
Who are you?
What are you afraid of?
What are you running from?

New beginnings

I just came back from my scout camp.
One week sleeping under a tent, building fires to cook, taking care of kids. And as always I come back drained, exhausted, and a bit off.
I've felt all grey since my friend and co-leader left.

This was quite a great experience, as most camps are, but this one had a special taste. This was my last one as titular leader. Starting next year, I decided to be only a additional leader, the one you call when you don't have enough leaders for a specific event.
Taking care of kids at work and during the weekend has left me exhausted all year long, and I think it might have a negative impact on my patience with both my students and the kids.
As such, this camp had a sort of bitter-sweet atmosphere.
I don't think I'll ever be able to really cut all ties with the scouts, as the whole movement played a huge role in building who I am today, but I feel that I need to move on.

I joined the scouts twenty years ago. I stopped twice for a year after becoming a leader. I took part to sixteen camps. I made friends I'd have never known if it wasn't for those Sunday afternoons running in the woods. Some will be my friends for ever or so I wish, some I lost track of long ago, but all of them had a small impact on me.

I never took the leader's oath. Never felt worthy of it. but I wear on my uniform the medals of my oaths as a guide, as a pioneer and as a companion.
I became a leader because it seemed obvious for me to be one. I had joined the movement so long ago that it seemed the right thing to do. Each step of the pedagogy lasts three years, except the last one, which lasts two, but can be followed by a third year of service. that's what I did. after enjoying the movement and it's opportunities for twelve years, it seemed only fair to give some of that time back.

almost ten years later, I feel that maybe along the way, I repaid my debt. I gave back a bit of what I got. I shared a bit of the wisdom I acquired along the way, but taking the oath seemed wrong. I didn't have enough time to give to the movement to be worthy of the oath. It wasn't my priority, so how could I claim to take such an engagement if I wasn't ready to give it everything?

I gave it all I could. All I was ready to give. Whatever time, whatever energy I felt I could give, I gave. And today, looking at my uniform, I wonder whether it really is the end, whether I didn't make a mistake, whether walking away from this is the right thing to do.

Find grace where you can

I have faith. I doubt too much not to have faith, if it makes any sense.
I feel, deep in my bones that there is something. Even though I am otherwise extremely rational. Even though I disagree with a lot of what is written in the Bible. Even though I do not agree with the dogma my church preaches.
I have faith, and I believe that the founding principles of my church are right, are good, are wise and necessary. Love thy neighbour is what matters to me.
My faith doesn't fit exactly the catholic canvas, but it's okay. I don't mind and I don't think it actually matters. I have faith and I take part in the church because I believe it can do good, because I believe it is the right thing to do.
But as such, I do not often have the opportunity to truly feel like I belong in the church. Often I am an outsider, an intruder. but sometimes I find grace. An echo, a certainty, that there is something and that it is loving and benevolent.
Singing is one of them.
I love singing but I grew very self conscious of singing. Never singing alone, never singing without other people to cover me. I love singing but I stopped, somewhere along the way. Somewhere among the little remarks that stung too much and sticked too long. After I left my music school, I stopped singing.
This week, I didn't go to mass in my usual parish. I went to mass with a group of other young people who decided to celebrate their faith with art. we got to go to mass with them. Oh boy it was different from my usual parish!
I like mass. I have time to pray, to think, and I can sing. I get to sing and to feel lifted, to feel carried by the others. I do not cower or hide. I sing with all those things inside me that want to get out.
And God they sang.
Not old odes whose lines no one pays attention to anymore, or whose lines are close-minded.
No. They sang poems and songs that talked of love and acceptance.
I so we sang. I sang.
It did not matter that what I believe in is slightly different. It didn't matter that I love women. It did not matter who I've been or what I've done. All that mattered was that we sang. We sang of belief and trust and hope. And I felt good. I felt grace in the easy harmony of the moment.

I do not often mention faith and what I believe in but meeting people who believe and who are willing to discuss it and to accept who you are, what you are, what you believe in is rare and precious to me. Those small moments of grace are priceless to me/

God, it felt good.

In the wild.

My hands are callused.
My hair smells of wood smoke.
My hands are rough.
My back is sore.

Wings

There is an emptiness in my back, where my wings used to be.
I feel cold and naked without their weigh,
I used to hug myself in them. Soft and warm.

I miss the haven they were,
The barrier they made between me and this harsh world.
With them gone, what am I?

The sky never looked so big,
so close and so far.
Never again shall I feel the ice cold air of the great heights.

The wind on my back makes me want to cry.
My skin is too soft, too new.
They are gone.

Small gestures

Hold my hand,
brush your fingertips against my lips,
put your head on my shoulder
catch me looking at you and smile.

Bite my neck,
bite my lips,
take my hand,
take my breath away.

Write things to make me blush,
not too much,
not too little,
just enough.

Congratulations

Today my first class of senior highschoolers graduated. The vast majority of them with honour.
I couldn't be prouder.
This has been a stressing year, for them and for me both. To me it felt like running a marathon, trying to stay ahead of the rest of the competitors. I built my classes chapter after chapter, desperately trying to find interesting material, to articulate the class so they'd enjoy it. I tried to pass on to them what I learnt from experience in the ten years head start I've had.
I wanted their highschool experience to have nothing on common with mine.

It's been daunting and exhausting and over all such a gratifying experience.
I was scared witless of messing it up, of letting them down, of failing them.

And God; I couldn't have been prouder today.
God, I couldn't have been happier today.

Today I was the lucky witness of their happiness, of their success, of their joy.

All through the year I saw them evolve, I saw them grow.
They grew, they grew up.
I saw them bloom and shine, gain confidence and start to fly on their own, making choices about their future, questioning their knowledge and the role they were to play in society.
I saw opinions form, ideas appear.
Hands rose.
That little spark of curiosity, of passion sometimes maybe.
God, when I see them I catch myself thinking maybe, just maybe, the future will be brighter.

Oh I couldn't be prouder.
So to all my students, those who will read this and those who won't,
I've seen you work, I've seen you endure the stress, the winter, the exhaustion and I am proud of you. I am proud of the effort you made, I am proud of the mistakes you made, proof that you tried and you learnt.

You are good and will get even better. You are strong and fierce and deserve a bright future.
I believe each and everyone of you will find a path, or several, and become the best version of yourselves.
Enjoy and rejoice! It is not time to mourn the end of an era but to celebrate the beginning of the rest of your lives.
I wish you all the best there is. A life full of opportunities, of dreams to fulfil, of challenges to take, of trials that will make your life more interesting. I wish you luck and love, happiness and pride.
Because today; you all made me both happy and proud.

Congratulations.

Such a small and lovely planet

At the end of the day

Somebody kick me hard.
I thought I was doing fine.
Did I spoil everything again?

Is there anything beyond my reach,
something I couldn’t break,
couldn’t ruin?

My hands hurt,
I want to crawl out of my skin.

The voices keep repeating those harsh words.
Among all the things that were said,
only the sharp one stayed.
Those that hurt,
Those that cut,
Those that stung.
Hours and days later,
They’re still here,
spinning in my head.
I still can’t get them out.

Sealed lips

"You need to learn to be humbler."
"You sound very condescending sometimes."
"Is that really what you thought?"

I tried to do it right.
I tried to be good.
I tried to be better.
It seemed that I failed.

"Good morning" I always said with that singsong voice.
Smiling and easy-going.

Apologize first, even if you don't understand what you did wrong.
It doesn't matter.
If you hurt someone, you apologize.
That's what you do.

I thought I could be proud and uncompromising,
I didn't think being whole would be so wrong.
I messed it up, didn't I?

They said I should keep quiet in front of the grown ups.
I had thought I could talk now,
I was wrong, wasn't I?

I don't know how to talk
I don't know how to speak
I don't know how...

I keep going from sadness to anger.
From the shame for not fitting in
to the pain of a bruised pride.

Why should I apologize for speaking up?
why am I not allowed to point out at people's mistakes?

I rock like a boat on the ocean, caught in the storm.
I am lost and there is no lighthouse.