The Greek Myth Rewritten

There are so many texts these days that reimagine history or retell a story to give a voice to the voiceless, to challenge the dominant narrative, and to present an alternative version of what was—one that is, in many ways, far more satisfying than the original.

This past month, I had the great pleasure of teaching Madeline Miller’s Circe, a retelling of the great witch from Greek mythology herself. We get to see her in a different light. We come to understand her motivations, feel what she feels, and realize she is not the monster we thought she was. She, in her god-like form, is humanized, and it becomes clear by the end of the story that if we let go of control and let love in, we can finally be at peace.

I need my own retelling of the Greek myth that was this past summer. The Greek myth of spending one month on the islands as a dream come true, the proverbial destination to cross off my bucket list. This was my expectation, but it was certainly not the experience I just had. I was blindsided by feeling left out, rejected, and not enough. My dream of being on the Greek islands became a nightmare of loneliness, even though I kept myself company the whole time.

So, while I was technically not alone, it was one of the most isolating experiences of my life. I couldn’t escape the colleagues who simply weren’t my people. But I don’t want to give them power over my experience. They robbed me of the friendship I was willingly offering, but I will not allow them to take any more than that.

Like Circe, I need to rewrite my story and reclaim this experience. So, here it goes.

Greece was prefaced with a journey through Lisbon, Portugal, and S. Miguel, Açores—lands of my family, culture, history, and, let’s not forget, food. These are a part of me and touched me deeply. There were profound moments of both joy and sorrow as I reunited with family, friends, and the land. I was moved to tears many times. I love this place so much. This part of my history has shaped who I am today. Sadly, it had been so long since I last visited that I felt a sense of loss for not having been there and participating in that world for the last 10 years. I also had a reawakening of a part of me that had otherwise lain dormant. You see, I was not born there and technically never lived there, yet I have a life and history that are so much a part of me. This connection is one that feeds my soul in so many ways. This visit, as emotional as it was, reminded me of how important this part of my life is and that I cannot wait for “the right time” to be a part of it. I was reminded that I need to visit regularly to continue forging that connection. Otherwise, there is a part of me I am not taking care of: my alma Açoriana.

During this trip, I was rarely alone. My family and friends surrounded me with their love, joy, hospitality, and kindness. What a gorgeous way to start the summer!

From Portugal, I returned to Toronto only to leave a few days later for Greece. Washed, packed, and ready to see it all, I approached Greece with an open heart and mind. I had plenty of space to make friends and make the most of each day. Little did I know, I would instead be making space for myself, for following my heart, for being true to myself, and for not compromising who I am just to fit in. Like it or not, I am not a puppy who will follow others mindlessly.

Although I had been to Greece before, this was a trip to the islands—we started in Athens and felt the intense heat and baked in the sun. We saw the Acropolis and appreciated the gorgeous scenery (and the not-so-gorgeous derelict buildings covered in graffiti). We meowed at the cats and basked in the juxtaposition of old versus new. It was a city worth reacquainting with, and the al fresco dinners were a welcome and familiar part of the summer and the dolce vita.

In Syros, we were in a paradise. My spacious hotel room was nestled in the mountains with a balcony that overlooked the mountains and the bay. I couldn’t believe this is where I got to work. The sand sparkled, and the crystal-clear turquoise water washed over me. Newly baptized in the warm and briny seawater, I watched the sunrise from my balcony and planned my lessons—the most beautiful office view. How lucky I am to be a part of this. I stretched and did yoga as Helios drove his chariot forward. I chose beach, sun, sand, pool, and lounging spaces that spoke to me. I ate all the things. I worked my way into the hearts of some of those around me. I luxuriated on the rooftop patios of Ermoupoli, far from students’ view. And most memorable, I traveled to St. Stephen’s Church in a cave by the ocean with a colleague with a heart of gold—a hike that allowed us to test our limits, make friends with two French models, and left us dizzy by the end. What an adventure!

In Tinos, we were blown away—quite literally, actually. It was there at Aeolus Bay that we felt the power of the wind in Odysseus’s bag; we were blown off course. But not before we climbed to the remnants of the castle at Exomvourgo, again, challenging ourselves to reach new heights. We strolled the windy pedestrian streets of Volax and Pyrgos and made a small pilgrimage to the Holy Church of the Virgin Mary to give our thanks for this beautiful life we get to live. Life is short, and I lit a candle to bless all those I love so dearly.

We pivoted back to Athens for a day to reorient ourselves with the wind and eventually get back on course to Crete. My 6 km self-directed hike through the city of Athens brought me closer to the city and helped me feel settled there. This is also where I discovered my favorite place in Athens: the National Botanical Gardens.

On Crete, I finally found my perfect fit. Heraklion was designed with me in mind—the perfect combination of pedestrian-friendly old city streets perfect for strolling and getting lost in, port-side views, bustling nightlife, and nearby stretches of kilometers of beach. The water was wilder here but still warm and inviting, and I lay there under a Cyprus tree appreciating the breeze as it caressed my skin and the sun as it kissed my forehead. This was a place where I could feel at home. Where I could, if given the chance, build a life and start over again. Finally, of all the paradise islands, this was a place where I felt truly at home, where sea, sky, and greenery surrounded me and fed my soul. After weeks of sea-side and arid landscapes, Crete was like home and restored me.

It was also on Crete that I celebrated my 19th wedding anniversary on a long-distance date with my husband. He, I could see, would have loved to have been there with me, so I included him in photos, videos, and FaceTime calls. And when he was no longer able to keep me company online, I reached out to family and friends. They kept me company all night long. It was the happiest and most fulfilled I had felt in weeks. Thanks to their long-distance love, it was a wonderful evening.

Our last stop was back in Athens—a place where I got to spend a few last days in my own company, appreciating myself and giving myself what I needed. I ran the streets and revisited the Botanical Gardens. I followed each whim and turned at each street that called to me. I was completely in tune with my inner musings. On a carefully selected bench, I luxuriated with a book, listening to the orchestra of cicadas in the National Botanical Gardens. The dappled light and gentle breeze kept me cool. The book I was reading kept me company for as long as I wanted being as quiet or as noisy as I wanted. There was a magic living in that garden—one that canceled all the madness of the sprawling city of Athens. One that made me feel like this is where I belong.

Did I LOVE this trip? No. It was often very difficult as I was faced with the task of being my own best friend, of being okay in my own company, and of accepting that I will not compromise myself just to fit in. I would have loved to have made a friend, or, at the very least, to feel appreciated. But I cannot control others. I can only control myself.

Here’s the thing: you can be in your dream destination but no matter where you are, what matters most is how you feel about it. For me, even though I was living a dream, I was often miserable.  If it weren’t for the text messages and the FaceTime calls with my family and friends, I would have spiralled into a depression. It was so lonely and isolating that it took a good week to undo the damage those lonesome times created. But I don't want to give that part of the story any more power over me than it has already had.  This is after all, a rewriting of history.

This trip has taught me that it doesn’t matter how beautiful and sparkling the sand is. If you don’t have someone to share it with, it is meaningless. And, I suppose, the greater lesson is that even though I am an independent and self-sufficient woman, I’m still working on being completely peaceful and calm with my own company. I am enough.  My company is excellent.  I know exactly what I like and don’t like.  I am considerate of my own needs.  I am amazing.

My happiness does not need to be tied up with who I take on my journey. As long as I am with myself, I can let go of others and be at peace.

So Greece will be my story of exile and finding myself. I was Circe, spinning my magic on my own, creating memories with myself, and remembering the sun on my skin and the salt on my lips. Yes, I had the occasional company and friend.  But really, it was a journey for me to find myself. 

That is the rewritten version of my history that I will speak forward from this moment on.

A Love Letter to the Man on the Moon: #5 Seeing the Dawn

 

“Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.”

― Oscar Wilde

For all the years I've stared at the moon, holding a love for you shrouded in secrecy, I am finally arriving at a conclusion about what we were.

I have always been, and remain, drawn to you. You are a comfort I cannot explain, an inescapable pull. But the closer I got, the harder I stared at what was real and what was imagined, the more I saw the dawn breaking.

We are the city mouse and the country mouse. Your world, even with a space for me, would always be too small. I cannot fit, and I will not change my form. There was a future full of possibility for us, but, although I didn’t know how to tell you then, I now can say that I simply cannot exist on your planet without a piece of me dying.  While I may not be able to breathe without you, I know I cannot truly thrive in your world. 

I don't know that I can ever fully let you go, but I also know I can't take all of you with me.  So instead I will take you with me by leaving you behind. 

Your intoxicating effect is something I cannot fully release. My soulmate, my first true love—I promised you my heart forever, and that promise still stands. But in the end, I chose not to build a life with you because I saw the dawn breaking. To save our love, I walked away, allowing it to continue to exist in dreams and longing rather than facing a future I knew I could not survive. A future where I wouldn't fit. A life where I would be trapped and suffocate.

But perhaps there is a different future. One that has yet to transpire where we reunite, even if only for a season and hold each other close once again. I can see it now; we travel the galaxy seeing all of the places we’ve only dreamed of, both of us old and gray and spent from the lives we have chosen. But holding on strong, hand in hand we lie on the sand, together once again looking into the eyes of our one certain love.

A Love Letter to the Man on the Moon: #4 The Enduring Immutable Bond

 I live with a heart divided. Here on earth I have made my place, made my choice and devoted my life.  Yet a tiny string spans across the universe and keeps me connected to you.

My heart, although it has tried to let go, clings to you.  To the dreams that I have weaved about you.  To the possibilities for us that never were.  To hopes that I cannot let go of.

It doesn’t matter how far away you are because I have a piece of you that I carry with me.  A small stone that sits heavy in the bottom of my heart.  Just like that small cognac coloured leather pouch with one single curl from your head.  You are a character in the backdrop of my life story.

I hope you don’t mind how close I keep you.  After all, I have tried to cast you away and yet time and gain you someone wash up upon my shore.  So instead I have learned to keep you buried deep within my heart.  A safe haven for my deepest longing and desires. 

And although we have created completely separate lives, it is strange to me how we have remained bonded and bound to one another for an eternity; a promise ring that lies hidden in a box.

Is it wrong to stay tethered?

Does having you in my life make the hard times better or will it slowly drive me mad?  Does my presence make it impossible for you to find joy in the life you have chosen?

Or is it right to hang onto the comfort that you bring?  

Isn’t the comfort of knowing that you’re there worth it?  No one else makes me feel as special as you do.  I hope I’m not being selfish.

If only I knew what to make of the soothing torture of this enduring immutable bond.

A Love Letter to the Man on the Moon: #3 Worlds Apart

Our lives have run in parallel from the time I was 14. We are the sun and the moon chasing each other like fools. We keep circling one another year after year but are always so far apart.

Every once in a while our paths converge and we hold each other in an embrace. At that moment my world goes dark and it’s like I’ve disappeared for a moment. I tell you how much I miss you and then we part once again so that my light can shine once more here on earth.

In the absence of you, I picture myself floating to you in my mind.

Countless times I have traveled to an imaginary world where we could be together in a way that doesn’t leave my world dark. Where you could hold me dearly in your arms and stare lovingly into my eyes. Where I could bring you my rainbow and fill your soul with joy. Where we could love one another unconditionally. Where I could feel wanted and cherished every day.

To this end, I summon your face at night, reliving scenes from our past and moments that never were; moments shared that transcend physical presence. I live in a strange duplicity: the life I live in my body and the one I live in my mind.

When I once had you in my arms we lay next to one another—you with your arms wrapped around my middle, gently feeling my stomach while dreaming of our unborn children. How strange that was for me. At the time I lacked the words to say it, but I was not ready to receive the love you were ready and willing to give to me.

So I pushed you away. Like I always do, I faded away, taking with me the spectrum of colours that lit up your world.

Did I leave you living in the grey? Is that the source of you unhappiness?

Or, does the thought of me living on another planet brighten your day as thoughts of you continue to illuminate mine?

Oh, Man on the Moon, how long will we be worlds apart, still gazing longingly into each other’s eyes from across the cosmos? 

Only the sands of time will tell.

A Love Letter to the Man on the Moon: #2 Imagined Reality

Not many people know you exist. It’s not surprising, as few have traveled to your lands and even fewer know about you. But I’ve had years to get to know you and have carefully studied your ways. And strangely, even though we first met so long ago, it has taken me a long time to figure you out, as you are not what you appear to be.

In the simplest terms, you are tall, brooding, and philosophical to the core. You are musical, romantic, and a true naturalist. You are one of the most altruistic, optimistic, and loyal people that I’ve ever met. You like the simple pleasures of life: the quiet, the tranquil, the solitary. I realize now that you are the country mouse.

The most challenging thing about you is that you are dedicated to those you love—sometimes to a fault. Your love runs deep and true. Whenever I need you, I can conjure you up and you are there in an instant, lending me a sympathetic ear. You hold me in your gentle embrace and speak soothing words that are a balm to the ache that would otherwise keep me up at night. For me, you are an unending column of watery love and acceptance that overflows. 

No one else in this galaxy makes me feel as seen and as special as you do.

You like to yell, “Carpe Diem,” but I know it's a ruse. The truth is that you are exhausted—exhausted from putting everything and everyone else first. You keep busy helping others and doing the right thing as a method of distraction because, secretly, you are unhappy. Your heart beats to the drum of “the best which is yet to come”. But just below the surface, I feel the pulse of your hurt, your regret, and your loneliness.

Did you know that when I’m most lonely, you are able to come to me in my sleep? We lie together in the grass, sand tickling between our toes. We are swaddled in purple, and when you look at me, everything stops. All my worries vanish, and all we have is that very moment. That peacefulness that pauses the world and silences my thoughts. 

You have a magical power that makes the world stops spinning.

You are a warm light. A beacon in the sky. A gentle caress. A loving smile. I can feel your touch and remember your kisses. 

How can this be when we are always worlds apart?

You say I am your rainbow, but rainbows are just beautiful optical illusions. When the dream state is over and we open our eyes, what will we see? 

I am not who you think I am, and you are merely a version of who I dream you could be.

The truth is, you’ve always buried yourself deep within. You are a house that’s all locked up. I have tried to break in. I even cut myself a key—but there is no use. You’ve tried to open the door to let me in, but that latch won’t release. I can’t get in because you are unable to escape the shackles of your mind. When you speak your truth from behind the door, the air from your planet leaves you breathless and mute. There are even moments when the green of your eyes turns molten and you become completely unreachable—a vacant statue held captive by your own inner darkness.

That is when I realize our connection is unstable. 

When I realize that our distant and improbable relationship is insurmountable—too much for me to handle. And yet I am drawn to you. There is some inexplicable force. I can’t let go. It’s like the pull of the ocean, a tide that sweeps me toward you no matter how hard I try to swim away from the swell of the waves. It is exhilarating and also unsafe. The tide turns me in different directions against my will; like a magnet, sometimes I’m drawn in, and sometimes I’m repelled.

But the truth is that there is no reality; there is only my perception. My dreamlike projection of our past, present, and future. 

My imagined reality of who you are and what I’ve always envisioned we could be.

If only you were real.

A Love Letter to the Man on the Moon: Letter #1 Ache and Distance

In the depths of my mind I harbor a hidden truth; a love for the man on the moon. This secret romance was born of innocent flirtation and turned into a lifelong romance of imagined conversations and invisible interactions. A romance of ache and distance. Of blues and greens, of raging seas, endless longings and what ifs.

I know.

It’s too bizarre.

Too unlikely.

Too distant to be real.

But if I’m being honest (which I haven’t always been able to do—not to myself and certainly not to others) I’ve kept this love buried deep inside. Not acknowledging it or understanding it fully.

All these years later I recognize that this romance is based on something absolutely real and yet is conjured on the repeating idea of what might have been. It is complicated by distance—living on two different planets tends to make being together impossible. I know that speaking two different languages complicates things too; after all, too much gets lost in translation. Although we are far apart, we are always connected by the light of the moon.

We live our own separate lives, making space in the gaps and silences. He haunts my dreams. I am an apparition in the people he meets while roaming the streets. Although there is space in my heart for him, there is nowhere for us to exist together.

His face appears during my loneliest moments and I bury myself in his embrace as I crush my face into the pillow.

Moonlight lights up our connection across the sands of time as I gaze longingly into the night sky, wondering, for the millionth time, if he’s gazing back at me.

32 Years of Iris and Lotus

This is the tale of Iris and Lotus, and their thirty-two years. Together they live on separatea planets, connected across space and time, yet somehow always miles apart. They exist in a deep-rooted state of longing that neither will admit to the other.

Poor Iris.

She has spent a lifetime searching the sky for a glimpse of the ever-changing moon that has always connected her to him. Although she has built a beautiful life for herself, she secretly dreams of one on a different planet—a life where she can be with Lotus, where she can let his love wash over her and keep her in a dream-like state. There, she can forget her reality and reimagine herself anew.

Will she ever stop feeling the intoxication of his love? The addiction that overtakes her when she bites into the inebriating fruit of his presence?

Poor Lotus.

He longs for Iris—his one true love. Her words are a soothing balm and carry a wisdom that connects him to a higher power. He grasps for her rainbow and dreams of the feeling of her lips on his, the familiar taste of her mouth. Although he has built a beautiful life for himself, he is secretly unhappy, and would change so much if he could. For, like Iris, he chose a certain life instead of a certain love.

Will he ever realize that Iris is nothing more than a passing illusion? That beyond her beauty is an ever changing wind that will blow her away and leave him longing to see her again?

Thirty-two years and counting.

She remains moored on the island of his love while the idea of him lives rent-free in the corners of her mind. It is all because they chose a certain life instead of a certain love.

Beyond the Perfect Exterior

I'm sorry if I'm not who you thought I was.

I used to appear strong, but now you see my Achilles' heel. Will you use that against me, or will you choose empathy?

Will you look beyond the shiny exterior to see that all I ever want is to be loved and accepted for who I am?

Because that is all anyone ever truly wants.

To be loved. To belong.

Every day, I make a choice. I choose to work hard, to be positive, to do the right thing. I choose to be a rule follower. I choose to move my body, to eat green things, to drink water. I choose a book instead of a screen. I choose what's right for me, even when it isn't the popular choice.

I choose confidence. I choose to make a difference. I choose to love. I choose kindness. I choose hope. I choose to be invincible.

I choose to belong to me. I am my own perfect tribe.

I make these choices actively, every single day.

Without them, self-doubt would set in. The constant worry that I’m not enough, and the deep-rooted need to be wanted and to belong, would overshadow the light that shines within me.

It may seem like everything is perfect, but it isn't.

So look beyond who you think I am and realize that you, too, have a choice.