A Post a Day in May 2019 #20: The Point of No Return

-

I have pledged to write a new post for this blog every day in May

The Victoria Day long weekend is how we mark the beginning of the summer season in Canada. Regardless of the weather, it is, traditionally, this weekend that marks our return to time in the great out of doors — camping, the cottage, canoe trips, whatever it is that gets us outside. 

For us, this year, we are lucky enough to be back at the cottage on Lake Winnipeg, but we have a project that will bring us indoors for at least some days at this early stage of the summer: the guest room is getting a make-over. When complete, it will still be small, but the walls should be painted, the window properly framed, the floor newly carpeted. Now that we are in the midst of the details of the project, I’m not sure why I was so keen to start it, but there is no turning back now. In a fit of grand ideas, at Easter I got up on the Sunday and, without much ceremony, ripped out the ancient carpet. The furniture was easy to move, and the carpet and underlay came up without any problem. You can see the results in the photo. 

This is the point of no return. Every project has one and, for me, getting to it is almost as good as finishing the whole project. It’s that point when I realize the force to complete the work is greater than the desire (or ability) to stop. Moving forward is the only option, so move forward I, or we, do. 

Sometimes, a point of no return is intellectual or emotional. For example, when I was asked to write and present the nomination speech for Lisa Naylor earlier this week, I said yes before I could think too much about it. That was the point of no return: I was committed; therefore, I would do it. When I posted publicly that I was going to write a post a day in May on this blog, I was committed; therefore, I’m doing it. When I told my departmental chair that I wanted to be considered for the acting position when he went on leave, I created the point of no return. He is now on leave and I am now acting chair — for better or worse; I asked for it, now I have to live up to it. 

The point of no return is a galvanizing moment for me. Sometimes, I think long and hard about the step that will take me to it. Sometimes, it’s a spur of the moment decision. But, either way, that point is an important milestone for me, because it marks the division between thought and action, between the status quo and a new possibility. 

I’m confident we’ll finish the cottage guest room. After all, we’re past the point of no return and Mum is coming for her annual stay in July. And that is a combination of forces — momentum and maternal — that I will happily work with. 

Thanks for reading. 

- - - - 

Writers want to be read; at least, this writer wants to be read, so comments, rebuttals and feedback are all welcome. Subscribe to the blog to receive the posts direct into your email inbox. 

Comments

  1. FintaMay 20, 2019 at 9:00 AM

    Ah yes, the point of no return. I might experience one of those today. Maybe. Perhaps.

    I've been waiting for today's blog. Thank you.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Comments are moderated. Please be respectful.

Popular posts from this blog

Listening for the piano / Thinking about grief

-
Image
Grief is not a land in which I have travelled much, though I routinely explore it via others’ experience. I am drawn to do this as a student is drawn to the masters: To observe, to sit with, to wonder if those others’ experiences might help prepare me for my own when I find myself in that place. Will it? Sara Paretsky, author of the V.I. Warshawski mystery series, says that the grief over her long-time husband’s death hit her like a grand piano falling out of the sky onto her head. There is no pre-mourning, she says. Nonetheless, I persist in my studies: Memoirs of loss. Stories of grief. Tales of survival. I sit with those experiences. The words, the feelings, the anguish wash over me. And I ask myself: Will the sun rise tomorrow? Will I see it when it does?  Should I worry about this? Should I just expect, presume that what has always been will always be? Absurd. It will not always be. The loves of my life are all older, are all old. 95, my mother. Almost 80, my partner. 16, my cat.
Read more

Life story: I am from...where? who? what?

-
Image
The Le Rougetel family circa 1965: Anne, Charles, Amanda, Katy, Colin I recently attended the celebration of life for a friend’s father who had died at 95. The service was bright with song and lively with memories, and it got me thinking about how we wrap up a life with stories. Stories of fun and adventure, success and achievement, of impact and wisdom. Or maybe stories of hardship and pain, of loss and lack, of hard luck and sorrow. Or, likely, a mix of all that. Regardless, at the end, we celebrate a life in story. It got me thinking about how my story might be told when my end comes. That’s a long way off, I hope, but in the meantime, I pulled out an activity that Deborah and I have used in one of our writing workshops . It’s a variation on the “I am from…” prompt developed by George Ella Lyon , and it’s surprisingly thought provoking. It asks you to dig ever deeper about where you are from — while the cheap answer is Toronto (city where I was born), the richer, more valuable answe
Read more

If pride comes before a fall, what comes after disappointment?

-
Image
Disappointment is not something any of us aim for, I’m sure. The very last thing I ever want to be told by someone is that they are disappointed in me. But this week, I have been very disappointed in others. Life goes on, but that niggling thread of “if only” and “why could it not have been different” lingers in the corners of my mind. Last week’s lightening-quick sale of our cottage ended in disappointment all round when the deal fell through at the final hurdle. The details are not what matter here; what matters is that age-old life lesson about counting your chickens before they’re hatched and sharing good news before it is fully rooted and secured. But who among us has not jumped the gun? Presumed that all would go as promised, as planned? Believed in the goodness of people and trusted that the story would unfold as it had begun — smoothly, seamlessly, successfully? Ah, well. Sometimes it just doesn’t. So we find ourselves at a new beginning, with a different round of showings and
Read more