Lately I’ve felt so extra. I seem to need so many things: beautiful decor, artsy outfits, multiple kindred spirits, sublime nature, deep conversations, lots of laughter, and lots of fun. I envy the minimalists who cook beige food, read textbooks for pleasure, and only need to exchange a brief head nod with the grocery store cashier to reach social capacity. They seem to travel so light, to skim over the surface of life beholden to no one.
Why must I be so needy? I get to the weekend and I want to buy flowers and host meals and go hiking and take a group to the pub, not eat tofu and read scholarly articles. I want all of the things.
My friend Sarah said every video message I’ve sent her recently has mentioned how much I envy Type A people. She mentioned how much academia can malform us. She said it’s so hard not to compare yourself and compete, basing your worth on grades. She would know, having taken her MDiv at Duke. “But you will be saved by the Anne of Green Gables part of you.” When my other classmates are melting down, that romantic spark in me will remind me there is life outside the ivory tower.
I took that and swallowed it whole. It felt like a blessing. I may see my desires as extra, especially since I’m just starting to make friends. But they truly are needs. They are hungers because they feed who I am. My drive for more than book larnin’ will keep me balanced, even if it feels inconvenient now. Anne is persistent and always emerges again.
Last night I went to a folk concert in Vancouver with Marsha. I met Marsha, a woman in her fifties, the day after I moved here. She was volunteering in a store and mentioned a concert she was going to attend. “Don’t worry, I won’t invite myself,” I joked. Then she invited me. Swept up in the excitement of a new place, wanting to make connections, I accepted. But later I wondered why I’d shelled out $50 to see an artist I didn’t know with a woman I didn’t know. Now I had to drive an hour to Kits after a full day of school, with a stranger.
But Marsha is fun, chatty, and vibrant. She told me her life story as we drove there—there was a lot to tell. We parked on a side street between the historic houses of Kits. “It looks like Victoria here,” Marsha said, and I agreed. The Rogue Folk Club is in a former church and was filled with grey heads. This seems to be my new life: strung between people either twenty years younger or older than me. A docile collie trotted between the aisles following Steve, a rotund man with a tiny white ponytail. He started the Rogue Folk Club many years ago.
The opener, Terra Spencer from Nova Scotia, had a gorgeous voice and lovely songwriting. David Francey joined her, then continued alone with a guitarist and a fiddler. David has a delightful Scottish accent but has lived in eastern Canada for many years. He looks about in his sixties and seems like the sweetest, most earnest soul. He told wonderful stories; though we never talked I could tell he was a kindred spirit. Despite having won four Junos, he came across as so humble and genuine. His music was hopeful, honest, and true. I remembered songwriters—the good ones anyways—are poets too.
After the show I felt so buoyed with beauty and humanity. As we walked back to my car, I saw a swing hung from an oak tree. The moon was shining through the oak leaves and I couldn’t resist stopping for a swing. “What an Anne of Green Gables moment,” Marsha said.
“Did you just say Anne of Green Gables?”
“Yes?”
“It’s the word of the Lord!”
I explained Sarah’s message. Marsha told me a story about having a “perfect Anne day” on PEI. “I love a perfect Anne day,” I said.
I do, and I will not excise Anne from my soul. It’s she who helps me find these kindred spirits. It’s she who points out the dew on the spiderwebs as I bike to school in the morning. Sure, she takes extra to keep alive. But what she takes she multiplies tenfold. She gives me a life I want to be inside.
jealous you got to see david francey :)