Have you ever felt disassociated from the human race?

I had an interview over the phone. The woman and I were laughing; she asking probing questions; me trying to give her my "essence" over the phone. But she doesn't know me. How can she flesh out a portrait from unnaturally light-hearted banter and earnest mouthing's?

Then I stopped in at Sheridan Nurseries to hand over a resume to the manager. He wasn't in, so I introduced myself to the supervisor of the nursery. Struck up a good rapport; showed tons of eagerness; and then because I had walked all the way up a hill to the store in the blazing heat, I was wiping my sweaty forehead and said to the guy, "I'm a hot girl." It wasn't till I walked away after shaking his hand I realized that could be taken two ways. Because he doesn't know ME, could he have taken it the "wrong" way? (I'll admit to be a hotty at 50, but that's not exactly the most politically correct way to go about getting a job nowadays) All he saw was a smartly dressed, slim, blonde, grinning wannabe and when jobs are at a premium, yah, for sure he could have mistaken my meaning, because he doesn't know ME.

Then tonight, the friend who's so kindly putting me up for a couple of months went out for dinner. I felt at loose ends and signed up to play Scrabble online. I fancy myself a pretty good player....and then it struck me while I was playing....I can't see these people. I'm highly competitive and love the chance to prove myself a worthy opponent to anyone, but the game loses its fun factor if you can't see them smirk or sweat.

So all day I've been walking around and no one really has been with the REAL me.

I was trying to think tonight where we feel most "connected" with people.

When we're having fun. If you're loose enough to cackle and tee hee, most likely your associates will at the very least get to meet your inner child. A small and crazy part of you, but YOU nevertheless.

When we are hurt. Our vulnerability cracks us open like nothing else. Everything from a lost soul to a she-bitch can come pouring out of an open heart wound.

When we're having sex with a beloved. Not that I know this from experience (LOL), but there's no comparison to having sex with the person who fills your heart, and sex with any old Tom, Dick or Max. Touching the skin and inhaling the scent of the man you would do anything for; well, there's nothing like it.

Connection is vital to keep us human. Email and phones....what would we do without them? But the bigger question is, what would we do without a loving touch? What would we do if no one "knew" us? Life is meant to be shared joyfully, sometimes dramatically and hopefully lovingly.

I make friends very easily. I make "connections" easily. But TRUE connections are built over the course of years. They take patience, faith and an abiding hope.

To lose one is painful beyond belief. If you've ever lost your Dad or someone equally precious, then you'll know the bone deep agony of separation. It's a hole that will never be filled in quite the same way again. But it's not only through death that we lose the "guardians" of our souls. Most often our connections are broken through neglect, misunderstanding and pride. They're taken for granted.

In your hands are the invisible bonds that connect you to everyone you hold most valuable in your heart. Don't drop them. A true connection, once broken, may never be repaired. And you will never be the same for having lost it.

I was at work the other day when I got a phone call from a young woman who was certified as a Life Coach and felt drawn to my "message". I didn't, and still haven't had a chance to talk to her in full, but I did have a few seconds to mention that I was a bit embarrassed about my RAGE blog.

My rage was sort of like a nuclear reactor that had gone critical and just blew a hundred megatons of hydrogen straight up and through the atmosphere. I don't get that very often. Felt good.

I'd rather make an ass of myself than take it out on the person who caused it or the nearest avavilable passer by. Although I still say that produce manager has no idea how lucky he was.

Everyone's allowed to explode. Just make sure it's fast and furious. Burn it out before it burns you.

And if you truly cherish the person who caused the inferno, state your side, ask for understanding and make up as quickly as possible.

Life is too sweet for anything else.

It started last night. It started with a simple act of insensitivity. That's all.
The "what" that started was a state of fury I still can't shake.
I made a simple phone call last night hoping to rejoice with a friend over some really great news and left the phone stunned and shaking in rage. It was stupid really. Normally I let things slide off my back. I have an almost inhuman tolerance for bullshit. I tend to file insensitivity and it's cousins under "oh well, they're only human" and let people's natural proclivity for good take centre stage.

Not last night. I had had it.

I was making a stir fry and was just missing some bean sprouts. Under normal circumstances, I'd do without, but my growing fury made me unreasonable and spurred me to throw on my sneakers and run to the grocery store. With every step I raged and cursed. When I couldn't immediately find the bean sprouts I was ready to tear the head off the produce manager, but lucky for him I spotted them at the last minute. Then it was another 15 minutes home. I washed the bean sprouts, made a stiff drink, called a friend in Ottawa and proceeded to yell and cry in his ear for an hour and a half.

Then this morning I took off for the park for my morning walk, ran up a hill and threw my arms skyward half expecting to see bolts of lightening fly from my fingertips, such was my continuing rage.

The thing is, I've had a crisis of faith. Yep me. The unbeliever. The disdainer of organized religion. The heathen. Oh I'm spiritual in my own way. I've always believed I'm half forest nymph and my father got it on with an oak tree instead of my wonderful mother, such is my love of nature and our home, this beautiful earth. But over the past 6 months, I've been losing faith in everything I believe in. Last night's episode didn't create my loss of faith, it only sucked it out of where it had been festering in my soul and brought it to the surface.

I believed in humanity. I believed in the basic goodness of people. I believed that I could make a difference in the world. I believed in my friends and family and their unwavering support. I believed in love. Not I'm not so sure of any of it.

When I told my oldest friend about my crisis of faith last night, he cried out, "Oh no Linda. You can't stop believing. Not you."

Why not me? I'm too trusting. I'm too compassionate. When I love, I love unconditionally. Do you know what that means? Unconditional love doesn't mean loving someone blind, it means loving every single beautiful AND every nasty, rotten part of them, and then loving them anyway.

Maybe it's time I grew some cynicism. Maybe I should just blow off companions the way they blow me off. Maybe I should stop believing in them; nurturing their spirits and always being there no matter what. Maybe all the love I spend doesn't go into a bank. Maybe the interest rates on loyalty and faithfulness is 0% this century.

Or maybe, I just have to dig deeper. Who am I after all? I'm not the grand poobah, nor the judge, jury or lord high executioner over anyone. I'm just an ordinary little woman holding on by her fingertips to faith.

Maybe faith is meant to be tested. Maybe I'm going through my biggest trial right now. Maybe what I need to heal is a small act of faith in me. Maybe I need someone to take a leap of faith for me, just as I always have for them.