Peace and Happiness in Montreal

I was more nervous than I expected for this trip. I didn't expect any nerves to creep up even if it was my first solo trip because christ it's Montreal, Quebec. I can confirm that not once did I feel at all uneasy going solo there even at night- I got lost many times past sunset and took the metro as late as 1am but safety was never a concern for me. 

I think, for some reason, I was intimidated most by the language barrier. People had told me prior to my trip that I would have no problem finding English and in some ways they were right, but in some ways I feel this may have been spoken from a pretty arrogant point of view. Sure, I could get a waitress to read out an entire menu for me when they didn't have English menus, which was often, but that seemed like a pretty douchy move to me. Most of the people I met in Montreal knew some rudimentary English, but it didn't always seem appropriate to ask for help. If it didn't concern directions or operating hours I never asked for English, as a rule. 

I think I was also worried about being lonely, but this really didn't happen. I was on my own all day and most evenings I found company in my friends who lived there, some of the people I met at the hostel I stayed at, and once a delightful man from France at an Irish bar. My days were very tranquil and offered boundless opportunity to indulge my curiosities and in the evenings having company was an honest delight. 

I lived on a street parallel to this one.  

Both the language barrier and my lack of company during the day had meditative benefits I didn't expect. To be honest, despite being fairly learned and devoted to spiritual doctrines which emphasize meditation, I don't think I really believed it was possible and I don't think I understood the benefit of it until this trip. I thought I would be listening to podcasts while I walked, which amounted to about 7-10 hours a day, but initially I needed to pay a great deal of attention to my surroundings to orientate myself and then later I had no desire for podcasts. I liked hearing French everywhere because not only did it sound like a never-ending beautiful melody to my untrained ears, but it also reminded me to keep my eyes off the pavement and look up at the European inspired architecture. Hearing a foreign language around me reminded me that I was a stranger in a strange land here and in those rare instances when I would hear English it was incredible to feel that snap in my brain which went from passively observing to suddenly being understanding and involved. It reminded me of those divine moments of sudden clarity when I was teaching children. 

Being a Tourist

I had never thought about the vulnerability of being a tourist before living as one in Montreal. The French being spoken, written, and advertised all around me resulted in this feeling of both utter isolation and total immersion, both equally pleasurable. I grew self-conscious of my English and the evident confusion I displayed trying to navigate the larger metro stations. Being identified as a tourist is a little embarrassing, but being identified as an English speaking tourist was a nightmare because I know the assumptions made about people like me, especially if I had to admit to being Albertan. However, once I made it clear that I was here to learn, and not to demand English from others, people were certainly more openly friendly to me. 

Seeing as there was no one to lead me through my experience there, I had to learn to draw my own conclusions. It took only a few days for me to learn when and where it is appropriate to drink in public, for example. I didn't take advantage of this practice often mostly because I didn't have any reason to carry around 6 packs of shitty canned beer when there were innumerable incredible microbreweries around every street corner, but it was still an interesting thing to figure out. I also learned that you should always talk to the street artists and performers. 

In Montreal, busking is actually encouraged by the city government and there are places that are marked specifically as "busker zones" with an adorable little lute icon. 

Many cafe's and other casual establishments in Montreal ask that you remove your shoes. I really liked this- it was as if Montreal was asking that you really commit to these places and I really dug that. At first I was a little hesitant to just leave my shoes in a heap before enjoying some beers on a bean bag but it kind of made perfect sense once I settled in to it. Also, incidentally, a shocking amount bars, restaurants, cafes, and shops I encountered in Montreal were mostly just stairs. Establishments there often have multiple very small levels and are built on Montreal's infinite and at times intimidating hills and so stairs are just a part of the experience. Bars also sold a huge array of non-alcoholic beverages too, which I imagine would be nice if I had any kind of responsibilities, commitments, vehicles to drive, or aversion to alcohol. 

I found a number of oddities on my trip but I don't have the intention of listing them off meaninglessly just to prove something. The intention of this post isn't to depict some travelogue experience, but rather because I discovered something unexpectedly spiritual while I was out there, and it concerns both meditation and a distinct divide I found between peace and the pursuit of happiness. 

Peace & Happiness

One evening I found myself catching up with my old friend from University who had moved out to Montreal for the culture shock and to pursue her passion for writing, directing, and comedy. I had always kind of envied her because thus far she has been able to move her life wherever she feels a desire to- she can and does live and work in places for a couple months to a year just for the experience. She lives out of a backpack and nothing is holding her down and despite my having an overwhelmingly happy and fulfilled life, I have always been jealous of this freedom she has. I wasn't shocked to learn that the grass is always greener on the other side, meaning that she, too, felt jealousy towards my having people I am close to that keep me grounded. However, I was shocked when I began coming to the understanding that she was visibly more envious of me than I am of her. I envy her ability to pick up and move herself and her few belongings the way I might be jealous of someone who ordered a better cocktail than I. I shrug, drink my own mudslide, and that's pretty much as far as that feeling gets. My friend, however, appeared legitimately grieved by the lack of relationships she holds in her life and I was kind of uncomfortable realizing that she might not even be as happy here as I imagined. To be fair, she is absolutely living out her dream, and I still firmly believe that travel and working abroad are invaluable experiences, but still it was strange seeing this woman in the city of her dreams living out her stand-up career and still see some evident dissatisfaction in that moment. 

The common room of the Auberg Alternative hostel

From that point forward, I began to understand that my friend is happy, without a doubt, but she isn't at peace. The problem with the pursuit of happiness and hedonism is thirst. My friend will always be chasing after the next source of happiness and she will certainly attain it for periods of time, but she will also have to suffer from desire. It is no secret that Buddhists believe that desire is the root to all suffering, but I hadn't really understood it until that evening. I am happy because I have peace, and this peace is not totally dictated by my present situation, either. I've always struggled with meditation and non-attachment, but mindfulness practices and lovingkindness (yes, that is a single word in Buddhist doctrine) had always come easier and I made a choice a few months ago to lead a lifestyle and direct a perspective around these ideas.   

Peace invites un-quantified happiness. Being at peace is not necessarily resigning to your current situation, as I am very ambitious and always striving, but the acceptance that follows in suit involves a distinct shift which disables feelings of self-pity or dissatisfaction. I still have desire, but that desire is not grounded on any expectation. Normally, I believe I am at peace with my existence as someone who has a life situation, character, and body with limitations but still with the capability of attaining a happy existence, but while I was in Montreal I can say with honesty that a feeling of quiet mindfulness never left my mind or body. I didn't feel the stress I anticipated when I got lost, tried food I didn't always enjoy (this was very rare, though), spent money that may have been a "waste", or lost my belongings. It was incredible! 

St Joseph's Observatory

I remember at one point I believed that my vest had been stolen. I didn't expect temperatures to be as low as they were in Montreal, so that vest was a very valued at the time. And yet, it was the strangest thing and I still don't really have a grasp on how this happened- but it was almost like the pity, sadness, and anger got close and I distinctly remember nodding to them and acknowledging their arrival, and then they just left! Left, as if they'd just dropped by to remind me that they live just down the street if I ever need a cup of sugar or something, and then closed the door and left! I'd heard about this sort of thing before- many Buddhist teachers stress that judgement on all thoughts as either good or bad is counter-productive in meditation and mindfulness, but nonetheless the whole experience was so bizarre. It was as if I'd been practicing the piano for months and not even nailing a single chord and then all of a sudden Fur Elise just sprang from my fingers. Acceptance came so quick and I remember thinking that I did need that vest, but in this moment it was nice out and I needed to get lunch first, and then I'd like to visit the contemporary art museum. Maybe tomorrow morning I could take the metro down to a Value Village and replace it and I could pack a lunch instead of buying one. Fucking hell, I can't believe it but I even remember thinking and hoping that whomever stole it needed it whether that be to keep their body warm or for the rush of theft. Again, I'd heard about this practice of "Love everyone but like selectively" more than enough times, but never had it come to such divine fruition before that moment and I need to stress this again- it was near the end of my trip so I was getting broke and I knew I would be cold tomorrow morning. 

Ultimately when I got home 6 hours later I found out that I hadn't even worn my vest that day and it was right where I'd left it before. Sure, I was relieved that I still had it, but more importantly...more astronomically and earth-shatteringly important was this revolutionary feeling of relief that I hadn't given any kind of agency to those feelings of anger and pity. I didn't waste any energy looking for something to personify my misfortune and in that moment I felt so richly inspired. 

The most spiritually inspiring moment I encountered on my trip wasn't this whole vest situation, but hilariously enough involved a rare and beautiful instance of "empty mind" (yes ha-ha "is that a different state than your normal brain, Megan?" Very joke oh wow) at Cirque Du Soleil of all places. As I was waiting for the show to start I realized in a moment, like the chiming of a bell, that I was at some sort of purely meditative state. My mind was blank and the festive chaos surrounded me as if I were in the eye of a fantastic tornado. As soon as I got a grip on it it dissipated, of course, but nonetheless that moment was a huge milestone for me. 

A scene from Cirque Du Soleil's "Luzia"

I fell in love with my own company on that trip and at first my company consisted of my thoughts and observations. But then without any kind of exile my own company evolved to be more and more just some sort of locus of peace within myself somewhere between my mind and body. Thoughts stopped taking shape in words because they didn't have to be qualified or clarified to myself or others- they were merely an honest representation of my experience in that moment and words stopped coming to fruition. It is difficult to explain in words, of course, and it makes sense to me now why I had such a difficult time grasping this same experience Buddhist Lamas describe as a lifestyle of years and decades. In those moments which lasted anywhere from minutes to close to an hour, once, I existed in a way I'd never felt before. My body was so relaxed and seemed to work with such grace and ease as I walked, ate, or observed. I stopped reading in restaurants because that intrinsic deconstructionist experience was something I wanted to live again and again while I could. 

That night following Cirque Du Soleil I listened to a podcast with Lama Surya Das and for the first time ever I found myself not only appreciating it but fundamentally understanding the emphasis on meditation of all kinds. I might have never experienced something like this by sitting and facing a blank wall like the Zen Buddhists do in Japan, but the method does not matter- only the results. 

This "Anti-cafe" had working typewriters

I learned a lot about the culture and struggles of the Quebecois and I thoroughly enjoyed my stay in Montreal, but at the end of the trip I was ready to come home. I will admit that I was sad to leave a place behind where many people in my hostel and elsewhere had little to no concept or understanding of where I've spent my entire life; Alberta. That never stopped being bizarre. I have lived in a world where Calgary is the metropolis of reference and English is the only real official language and yet everywhere I went people native to Quebec, Europe, and even South America were utterly fascinated by this strange and alien place I've called home my entire life. Once a Brazilian told me that my language and accent was musical and exotic. That really happened to me. 

Never in a million years did I expect to be classified as an exotic woman. I guess I've really seen it all now. 

Side note: you will never hear me use the word "deconstructionist" again