Galaxy Brain Questionnaire

Who Are You?

I am a boy standing in the uncut outfield of a baseball diamond. The uniform, the leather glove, the curved brim of the hat. The weight and feel of the wooden bat. These are all things that I love. The hitter slugs the ball and I begin running toward it. Every cell in my body humming in wordless concert. The ball starts to fall and I dive, my glove stretched to its limit. I catch the ball–my momentum rolling me over before I pop up to show the umpire I’d made the catch–and as I am doing this, all the grownups who had been watching leap to their feet cheering. Smiling, now so much larger than I had been just a minute before, I throw the ball back to the infield. My uniform streaked green by the grass, the evening sun falling pink and blue, the horizons spreading limitlessly around me…

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I am returning to my parents house in Ottawa after being away at university. It’s Christmas. I’m 18 and my arms are full of dirty laundry. Still between worlds. I think I’m happy and forging a new and beautiful life, but I am not. I’m skipping class and partying, becoming less rather than more than I had been. I push open the front door and the very first thing that struck me was the smell of roast beef.  And then there was my father, bent over, basting the meat. It felt like a wish granted, as if something unseen suddenly became visible and all the love under the surface, all that had lived unspoken, was now vividly present. Like an iceberg rising through the dark surface of the waters. The enormity, the permanence of my family’s love, and my love for them, clear to me  for the first time. That aroma filled me like some kind of light, answering whatever inarticulate, animal need was thumping inside, and I have never felt more at home than I did in that moment. I imagined my bones glowing, I was so happy.

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My mother is driving me through the Gatineau Hills. I am very sick, trying to recover from a cancer, and part of the structure of this is going for a drive each day. It doesn’t matter where. I just need movement, need to see the world as it is beyond the hospitals. And as we drive through these vivid, autumn forests, I feel as if I am being summoned. It’s elemental, this, something calling from both the inner and outer depths at the same time. I want to lie down on the floor of the woods and sink within, to return to the earth. I feel this pull, as real and strong as anything I have felt in my life. My mother notices something in my face and places her hand on my leg. Gives it a squeeze, and then holds it steady, as if binding me further to her, to this living world we are passing through together…

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I am on the Greyhound bus travelling from Ottawa to Toronto to visit Rachelle. We’re falling in love. Everything is marked by her, elevated.  She, the catalyst that is transforming the world into a great adventure.  The bus ride is slow, but fun. All these people with me, each tied to their own story, each on their own quest. I look out the window at the passing towns anticipating her vivid blue eyes, the smooth touch of her skin. I feel I have a secret power none can see. I am invincible. This love, a pulse of it could knock an airplane from the sky. And the closer I get to Toronto, the more the energy increases. And then into the city, everything brightening as I pass newly familiar topography, and then around the corner and into her arms, and something cracks in the universe and all the light that ever was and ever will be, is shining down upon us.

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Jones is five and running down the hallway. Each footfall a roll of small thunder. He throws open our door, “Mommydaddy, Mommydaddy, it’s wake up time!!!” He leaps onto the bed, so excited to discover a new day. What treasures to discover within? He’s bouncing from one leg to the other, and then he starts to sing. This radiant beast, this physical manifestation of joy before us. It is a blessing. This, the holiest thing either of us will ever know, and so we watch, the light emanating from him illuminating everything around us for the miracle it is.