A lot has happened since I last wrote. We had our Toronto launch party, facilitated by our good friend Joe Touil who will be joining the project as it heads south of the US border. I'll get some pics of that party up ASAP.
We ended up spending a week in Toronto, due to some problems with our computers; Dan's computer cacked out completely, and mine is still struggling to get back into good working order, despite all of Joe's hard work to nurse it back to health.
On Monday, March 20, we tied up the last of our loose ends. Dan went to some Russian computer guru, who informed him that his computer was indeed dead, while I went to the Canada Goose warehouse. It was there, with the help of Leila Lohonyai, that I purchased a fantastic parka. This thing is the real deal: well made, durable, and uber-warm. The kind of thing that makes you beg the gods for a blizzard and sub-zero temperatures just so that you can laugh haughtily at them from warm recess of your huge hood. And damn if it doesn't make me feel sexy! Yes, this parka doesn't just casually say "I'm warm," it authoritatively asserts "I'm hot. Damn hot!" Perhaps the pimps on the boulevard need to update their wardrobes?
I digress.
So, after those things were squared away, we finally set off for a short haul to North Bay, where we were given food and shelter for the night by our friend Natasha Cibischino and her roomies. It felt good to finally get back on the road. Toronto was great, but in a way I felt it was like a vortex sucking us in and sucking motivation and purpose from our journey. North Bay wasn't far enough for me though. Natasha wanted us to visit a little longer, but I felt too antsy and wanted to push on.
Over the next two days, we made our way to our present location: Winnipeg.
But, yesterday morning as we wound west towards Thunder Bay, I tried to reflect on my antsy feelings. Why this need to move?
It's hard to appreciate and absorb the potential significance of one's surroundings if there is no time to stop. Among the things we passed that morning were a giant snowman in the town of Beardmore; a large area of land scorched by a forest fire; an historic old backwoods church; and a 40 foot-tall sandstone or granite sculpture that looked like an alien. These were all things that piqued my interest (perhaps Dan's as well), yet we didn't stop to investigate them further. Should we have?
The mantra of our journey is supposed to be "The journey is the destination" because we feel the film will almost make itself if we remain open to possibility and to chance. Easier said than done it seems, for I feel the need to reach a destination all the time - perhaps a subconscious drive.
I wonder, is this symptomatic of the state of our lives in the West, where we are speed obsessed and spoiled by the constant instant gratification of our needs and wants? We cheerfully and playfully scold each other saying, "take time to stop and smell the roses!" as we go through our busy day, but are we really capable of adopting a lifestyle where this is the ethos?
To be sure, we all have our isolated moments where we do. The week at the cottage, the spontaneous getaway, the Sunday of leisure, are all times when we can step back from our lives and breath. However, when those interludes are over, our "regular" lives resume.
Perhaps, the question is not "are we capable of slowing down?" and rather "are we afraid of slowing down?" I mean, perhaps the pace of our contemporary lives is not a problem because we are used to it. Perhaps, it's more of a blessing. Given the choice, might many of us actually prefer a fast-paced life because there is no time to think about whether we're really happy and fulfilled. No time to mull over our failings, improprieties, and prejudices. No time to consider what we should be doing versus what we are doing. Ignorance is bliss, right?
We ended up spending a week in Toronto, due to some problems with our computers; Dan's computer cacked out completely, and mine is still struggling to get back into good working order, despite all of Joe's hard work to nurse it back to health.
On Monday, March 20, we tied up the last of our loose ends. Dan went to some Russian computer guru, who informed him that his computer was indeed dead, while I went to the Canada Goose warehouse. It was there, with the help of Leila Lohonyai, that I purchased a fantastic parka. This thing is the real deal: well made, durable, and uber-warm. The kind of thing that makes you beg the gods for a blizzard and sub-zero temperatures just so that you can laugh haughtily at them from warm recess of your huge hood. And damn if it doesn't make me feel sexy! Yes, this parka doesn't just casually say "I'm warm," it authoritatively asserts "I'm hot. Damn hot!" Perhaps the pimps on the boulevard need to update their wardrobes?
I digress.
So, after those things were squared away, we finally set off for a short haul to North Bay, where we were given food and shelter for the night by our friend Natasha Cibischino and her roomies. It felt good to finally get back on the road. Toronto was great, but in a way I felt it was like a vortex sucking us in and sucking motivation and purpose from our journey. North Bay wasn't far enough for me though. Natasha wanted us to visit a little longer, but I felt too antsy and wanted to push on.
Over the next two days, we made our way to our present location: Winnipeg.
But, yesterday morning as we wound west towards Thunder Bay, I tried to reflect on my antsy feelings. Why this need to move?
It's hard to appreciate and absorb the potential significance of one's surroundings if there is no time to stop. Among the things we passed that morning were a giant snowman in the town of Beardmore; a large area of land scorched by a forest fire; an historic old backwoods church; and a 40 foot-tall sandstone or granite sculpture that looked like an alien. These were all things that piqued my interest (perhaps Dan's as well), yet we didn't stop to investigate them further. Should we have?
The mantra of our journey is supposed to be "The journey is the destination" because we feel the film will almost make itself if we remain open to possibility and to chance. Easier said than done it seems, for I feel the need to reach a destination all the time - perhaps a subconscious drive.
I wonder, is this symptomatic of the state of our lives in the West, where we are speed obsessed and spoiled by the constant instant gratification of our needs and wants? We cheerfully and playfully scold each other saying, "take time to stop and smell the roses!" as we go through our busy day, but are we really capable of adopting a lifestyle where this is the ethos?
To be sure, we all have our isolated moments where we do. The week at the cottage, the spontaneous getaway, the Sunday of leisure, are all times when we can step back from our lives and breath. However, when those interludes are over, our "regular" lives resume.
Perhaps, the question is not "are we capable of slowing down?" and rather "are we afraid of slowing down?" I mean, perhaps the pace of our contemporary lives is not a problem because we are used to it. Perhaps, it's more of a blessing. Given the choice, might many of us actually prefer a fast-paced life because there is no time to think about whether we're really happy and fulfilled. No time to mull over our failings, improprieties, and prejudices. No time to consider what we should be doing versus what we are doing. Ignorance is bliss, right?