Invisible Leavings

Homeless Stranger It’s 8:30 in the morning in the downtown core of the beautiful city of Halifax, Nova Scotia. The sky is trickling a gentle rain on the skin of my face, and I welcome it. It’s refreshing in the unseasonably warm weather we’re getting in February. I’m on my way to work, but I stop for my usual cup of latte at the Starbucks store just two corners down from my office. I notice him as I push my way into the store; he’s occupying his usual spot on the curb just below the traffic light. It’s the same homeless man of every morning – a figure of my daily routine now. A constant. So why did something tickle me this time? I buy my coffee, this time adding a blueberry bar to go with it, and try to ignore that tickle at the back of my head. Walking out, I make it a point to ignore him too, because I don’t have any cash on me, as usual. I’m so paperless about money like that. And just when I’ve crossed the street to the other side from him, it hits me that he looks especial

The Cosmic Perspective I must say I've always been one to want to discover my ancestry. Having grown outside my home country for my entire childhood and the better part of my teenage years, I had this need to connect to whatever it was that made me who I was - ancestry, lineage, bloodlines, that kind of thing. It filled me with pride that there was a miniscule chance that I had some true ancient Egyptian blood running in my veins, that I could even partially be affiliated with one of the most intriguing ancient civilizations of the world – one that shaped our current knowledge in many ways. Then, recently I’ve been bumping into all these commercials on TV that make it seem so simple to find out your ancestry lines, from your DNA . There was never an easier time to go for it like now. But then, I hesitate. Interesting. I ponder and question my weirdly ambivalent self, and I may be on to something here as to why I do not take that step towards knowing wher