As opposed to “in here”.  Throwing myself into life, arms splayed, tongue out.  Rather than all contracted, tight into a ball, blocking the outflow.

What you see is one of the iconic photos in Canadian history.  Our Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau has just finished meeting with Queen Elizabeth of the United Kingdom.  As she and her entourage turn to leave, Pierre does a pirouette behind them.  Protocol be damned!

I love Pierre, even now so many years after his death.  He lived large.

I want to do the same.

A few weeks ago, a writer friend of mine asked if I wanted to hear about the novel she was working on.  I smiled and said “No”.  And then I proceeded to listen.  But where did that word come from?  It just bubbled up my throat.  Is that you, Pierre?

And then the day before yesterday, a conversation about seagulls turned into a lap of the restaurant, me flapping my wings all the while.  I passed a few coffee drinkers looking up to me … and kept flying.  Why not?

Just so you don’t see me as a totally free spirit, please know there is one potential that I’ve so far closed down.  My dream has been to sing from my balcony over the Oudburg, serenading the folks strolling below.  That dream is over a year old now, and not a single note has flowed from my mouth.  (Sigh)

***

Surely Pierre too had his moments of contraction

But I know he returned to the dance