Last night, Nate and I checked out a painfully lovely condo in Cloverdale. I wasn't sure why we were looking at it; we haven't expressly said to each other that we were looking to move from our basement suite in Aldergrove, although we have both voiced our displeasure at the lack of space in the kitchen and the absence of a bathtub. The condo was a top-floor beauty with a killer deck and surprisingly great view; skylights, crown molding, open floor plan-- utilities included for only $650 a month. Startlingly cheap for these parts. Scott, the fellow showing it to us, liked us immediately, and wanted us to move in. Right. Now. He was tired of going through the hassle of showing it to person after person, having it empty and costing him cash. I liked him too; liked the paint, the layout, the details; liked the deck and all the bright light that we don't get in the Aldergrove dungeon; liked the $100 less than we're paying now for rent. But driving home, I thought about the reality of the huge commute, the pain we would cause our current landlord by our surprise departure, the hassle and stress of picking up and packing up... all of these things reverberated and I had to say 'No'.

After Nate called Scott back with our (my) disappointing decision, I found myself pensive and sullen. I could see us enjoying that Cloverdale condo-- Nate finally having a sundeck to put his crazy indoor pond out on, a workable kitchen, lots of light and happy houseplants. But what does that make our life about? As it is, I live not 10 minutes drive away from where I'm working, and I can walk or ride my bike on the nice days (if I wake up at 5:30 AM). I don't spend that much time at home, because I'm usually at work, or grocery shopping, and I'm not much for laying about watching TV. My life seems to be mostly revolving around my job these days anyway, with brief interludes of inspiration that send me reaching out for something more-- e.g. school/education, artistic website, future business plans, etc. What does my life become about when all I am doing is travelling to and from work? Paying bills and saving money so that I can buy something and pay more bills? Is this it? Make and spend and make and spend, and sleep and eat and make and spend? It grosses me out, infuriates me. How many people do you know who are actually HAPPY caught up in this self defeating cycle of perceived need and acquired debts? This surface life of skimming the periphery of the deep end, staying in the shallows of consciousness and satisfaction?

Nate took me for breakfast this morning at DeDutch, and I ordered the Hawaiian Toast. That being the French Toast with pineapples and coconut and ham. It was OK. After three cups of coffee and my weird tropical Dutch/French/Canadian cuisine (do French people actually eat French toast?) I felt bolstered enough to launch myself into the tangly mess of the above questions... "seriously, Nate-- what do you want your life to be about?" I admire Nathan for his calm approach, his gentle desire for simplicity and his innate patience. He is natural in the very best sense of the word-- a man of the earth, of slow growth, of greenery and the due course of things. Of course, as much as I admire his qualities, they sometimes clash with mine. I find myself to be a more and more evenly divided between the personalities of my parents, dependant on the situation. I can be the social butter(fly) that my mom is, spreading things smoothly and infecting those around me with a sense of fun and joy and spontaneous-ness. Or I can be the scientist that my dad is, exacting and precise in my research and development, be it technical or creative. Or I can be both at once, spontaneously exacting, joyfully technical and precisely creative. So when Nate calmly answered that he was looking to keep things simple, to stay with his job, to grow, and to one day have his own landscaping company, I had to rephrase, to find out What Do You Want It To Be About? What Is The Big Picture?

When I lived in Japan, my live was about enjoyment and astounding, unprecedented growth. I mean-- I had to grow, to survive. I met new people, learned new rituals, new words, new ways of thinking and being. Thank goodness! I stretched and grew stronger. There was MORE than work, more than bill-paying and grocery-shopping. There was something bigger going on.

I don't want to believe that something bigger can't happen here, in Canada, but I can't help but think that if I want to keep growing at the rate I was in Japan, I'm going to have to keep throwing myself into the deep end of things. I don't want to simply settle for the next nice condo or a new car. What great boon am I to society if I become just another cog in the economic wheel? Luckily Nathan understands-- or claims to. I think my impatience and quivering desire to burst out in all directions unsettles him at times. Fair enough.

We reached a decision though, and shook on it over the crumbs of Hawaiian Toast and DeBacon. No moving. No misplacing the energy destined for great changes on small, futile ones. If I can be secure that I don't have to pack up my art supplies in two weeks and move to Cloverdale, maybe I'll actually use them. If we can be sure that we can be steady where we are standing, it makes it a lot easier to see clearly into the future, and take the steps that will lead us there.

How did I go from focusing on the abundance of the universe to focusing on the 2008 Consumer Report for cars? Maybe the abundance of the universe will deliver to me a car: a reliable, happy car, one that is safe, sound, reliable, and not too thirsty. Or maybe the universe will say,"Screw you, chiquita. Get off of your bum and get walking!"

There are two fundamental rules of nature. Well, actually, there are hundreds, but instead of poking our heads into the mating rituals of dung beetles, let's focus.

One rule is abundance.

The other rule is scarcity.

And whichever one you believe in the most-- that is the one that you will attract.

The idea is that abundance attracts abundance, so I must immediatley drop my fear-based attitude of "I don't have enough," and instead give and receive freely, sound in the comfort that I will always have enough of the things I need to live bountifully.

A beautiful idea, and one that I have come to (and retreated from) repeatedly over the past few years. I guess the question that always sends me retreating is along the lines of: "When Mastercard calls looking for a payment, how do I explain that I am waiting for the abundance of the universe to deliver?"

Just kidding. Kind of.