Opportunity Dances

Confessions of a Pseudo Writer

2010-02-09T20:36:00.000-08:00

I have another blog. It's a work relationship. At first, writing somewhere else was more exciting than writing on my home blog. I wrote about different things. I was a different person with a different agenda. The words were dressed differently. When I started it, I wrote about things I was passionate about. I wrote about fun and games. I wrote about connections and change agents. Sometimes I copied and pasted others' words to get a point across, all legitimate, all for the sake of the cause.

There's nothing underhanded about any of this. How can there be when both blogs know about the other's existence. It's just that one or the other tends to be neglected. Lately it's both. Lately, I haven't wanted to write at all. Lately, I've had nothing to say. Lately, writing seems to be too onerous, too energy-sucking, too meaningless.

Here's my second confession. I've turned to Facebook to give me a quick, easy writing fix. Facebook is like a one night stand.(I've never actually had a one night stand, so this is all fanciful or at a stretch, theoretical) Fun while it lasts, a little embarrassing once it's out there, and always leaving one with wishing it was more than it actually is.

I may have to go back to the old fashioned ways of pen and paper, like "morning pages" to find meaning again. I may have to cut all ties with on-line writing. I'll have to keep the work relationship blog but it can remain just that.

I may post soon or not.
Logging off.

From Yale, Finally

2009-07-18T22:33:00.000-07:00

Since I last wrote:
I went to Montreal to an adult learning symposium which was excellent. We also had a couple of days of wandering around that great city and got to see Cirque du Soleil. Amazing. It's probably the best show that I've ever seen.

Jessica and Jonathan got married in Zambia and they are working on getting Jonathan a Visa so that they can live here while Jessica finishes her degree at SFU.

I've been going to various events in the area to promote our literacy programs. We entered "Page Turner" in the Canada Day Beaver Races in Agassiz. We had a booth at the summer market at Christ Church Anglican Church in Hope and won first prize for the best decorated authentic 1800's look. I got to dress up in a costume from Yale Museum. I loved it.

We created a website for literacy in the Fraser Cascade region. www.wannaread.org. It was designed and built by Exit 170 Internet Solutions.

Three weeks ago, we moved into the basement of our new house. Two weeks ago, we moved upstairs. This evening we sat by a fire made up of old doors, reminiscing about previous burnings of the old house. There's probably a metaphor in here somewhere but I'm too tired to dig deep tonight.

Did You Miss Me?

2009-05-27T18:47:00.000-07:00

Since we last spoke:
Our daughter Jessica flew back to Africa and got herself engaged to Jonathan Mundia of Zambia. We are excited for them and can't wait to meet Jonathan.
I spent 3 days in the Skagit camping with many grade sixers.
Our house in Yale is closer to completion and moving day is ...
I went to May Days in Boston Bar to promote literacy and won second place in the parade,(miscellaneous category).
I've been teaching a computer workshop in Boston Bar on Wednesday evenings.
Gillian and Paul moved to Educo and have started work.
Gillian has been accepted at Vancouver Island University School of Nursing for Sept 2009.
I met with my cousins, cousins'daughters, aunts, sister, sister in-law, niece, and mom to celebrate the arrival of new babies.
I've gone to many meetings regarding literacy and community development.
I saw Star Trek and Wolverine and they were good.
I've read more books than I care to count, all of them fluff.
I watched Remington Steele series on DVD
I've moved dirt, plywood, drywall, painted a little.
I've assembled cabinets from IKEA and only had a few parts left over.
I've been working out at the gym but not enough.

How have I been?
Exhausted, disconnected, missing my children.

I hope it won't be so long till we talk again.

Gratitude

2009-04-07T21:51:00.000-07:00

I just read a friend's blog on having a gratitude journal. Let me share about my Tuesday.
I went to Boston Bar to read "Angela's Airplane" to 2,3, and 4 year olds and their moms.
Then we made paper airplanes.
Then we had a snack.
And then we got to take home some books.
I got back to the office and I along with a co-worker got to cut and paste (job postings for our local job board).
The only thing missing was the nap.
A great day in kindergarten.

After work I cycled out to Yale to practice my commute. I was pleasantly surprised at how well I did on the hill. Bring it on!
I enjoyed the solitude, the views, the sound of the tires on pavement, the shifting of gears on bike and in brain.

A good day for which I'm thankful.

Party Time is All the Time

2009-04-07T21:43:00.000-07:00

We have windows, doors that lock, and stairs that fit.
Electrical inspection has been completed.
Tomorrow the framing inspection will happen.
Hoping to insulate on the weekend and drywall next week.
Insulation party anyone?

Have Your Book and Eat It Too

2009-03-22T09:05:00.001-07:00

Wednesday, April 1 is the day of the International Edible Book Festival. This festival was the idea of Judith A. Hoffberg and Béatrice Coron. They decided it would be best celebrated on April 1, "the birthday of French gastronome Jean-Anthelme Brillat-Savarin (1755-1826), famous for his book Physiologie du goût, a witty meditation on food." This event was first celebrated in 2000. The intent was to celebrate and reflect on our cultural differences and our attachment to food by making and eating food that represents books in form, text, or theme.

In the position of Literacy Outreach Coordinator for British Columbia's Fraser Cascade region, I am promoting a local version of the festival. There will be edible books, non edible books and prizes at Pages Book Store in Hope, the Hope Library, and the Boston Bar Library. I'm hoping that we can build on this and make it an even bigger event next year with a literary and food creation extravaganza.

One reason that I latched on to this Edible Book Day idea is that I still experience the magic of opening a book and entering into a different world, just as I did when I first learned to read. I wish that for everyone. My intention is to draw attention to the places where there is an abundant supply of magic and to some of the programs that will help people acquire the skills to draw that magic out from books.

When I was at the Vancouver Writers' and Readers' Festival a few years ago, I heard an author speak on the importance of writing fiction. She said that if done well, the story pulls people in; they become the characters; experience the emotions, crisis, decisions, and culture; and come to understand and empathize. She believes that it will be the entering into the stories that will change our world, eliminate war, and will bring about world peace. I think the walking in someone else's shoes in fiction will encourage participation and connection in our real world. With knowledge, (on emotional and spiritual levels as well as on an intellectual level) comes understanding, with understanding empathy, with empathy cooperation and collaboration.

So let's go out and devour some books. It will make a better world for you and me.

Things I Like

2009-03-16T20:33:00.000-07:00

A glass of cold water after a workout
Reading books and blogs
Running in the rain
Paddling my kayak
Hiking
Hugging trees
Swimming naked in the ocean
Joking with fellow employees at work
Chocolate anything
Conversations
Laughing so hard that my muscles are sore
Hugs
Making connections
Action
Accomplishing a goal
Sweating while exercising
Wind in my hair
Sandcastles
Children's illustrations
Making bread, pies, cookies ...
Trying a new recipe
Experiencing the spiritual
Dancing away my inhibitions
Dreaming
Snuggling on the couch with my close someone(s)
Smiles
Wit
Attending the theatre
Acting in a play
Dressing up
Alone time
Picnics
Camping
My life

Reading Binge

2009-03-15T22:46:00.000-07:00

I just finished Lovely Bones, before that Any Place I Hang My Hat, before that The Mermaid Chair, before that The Lost Diaries of Adrian Mole, before that The Time of the Uprooted, Divisadero, The Apprentice's Masterpiece, The Steppes Are The Colour of Sepia, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, Lullabies for Little Criminals.

Beside my bed, waiting to be read are: Gods Behaving Badly, A Map of Glass, Summer of My Amazing Luck, and All Families Are Pschotic.

Besides the fact that I love to read, always have, I know what this binge is about. I am trying to escape thinking of work. Thoughts of work are seeping into my other life and I don't like it.

#1 I am miserable when...

2009-02-09T18:47:00.000-08:00

I haven't been faithful to the writing process. I'm often stuck for things to write. Recently I attended a tutor training session. The instructor gave us a sheet full of journaling ideas to use for learners who have difficulty writing. I'm going to try to use them regularly.

I'm miserable when I've hurt someone even if it's unintentionally. I'm anxious when my family or friends are sick or hurting. I'm judgemental when people waste things like; food, time, natural resources. I'm depressed when I think of global warming and how it seems that government is doing nothing about it, or not enough. I'm sad when I think of the conflicts in Afganistan, Gaza, and Zimbabwe to name just a few. I'm mad when I feel that I have no solutions to the problems I face, the community faces, the country, the world. I'm angry when I or others are treated unjustly. I'm grouchy when I have to spend way more money than I expected to pay. I hate it when people are disrespectful. I'm cranky when I haven't lived up to my own or others expectations, whether that's at work or in my personal life. I feel like I'm going to explode when I don't get enough exercise or if I haven't been in the forest recently. I complain when I think things should be done differently. It hurts when I am excluded or let down. I'm bitchy when I don't get my own way sometimes. I'm embarrassed when I think I've said something stupid or when I think that someone else thinks that I've said something stupid.

I am miserable when I haven't spent time thinking positively, dreaming dreams, making a difference, living life to the fullest.

Flashback

2009-02-01T11:41:00.000-08:00

Last Monday I had the pleasure of spending time with my 2 1/2 year old friend Sol. We spent time exploring outside, flying his helicopters inside, reading and cuddling. I had brought along some favourite books of my children. We read "Angela's Airplane", which made me think of Angela as a baby, toddler, preschooler, school aged, teen, and adult,(the way she is self-taught in most things, an experiential learner) We read it over and over and over again at Sol's request. We read "Love You Forever", (I can never read that book without crying), which made me think of Paul, my charmer who was so hard to say no to, no matter what he was asking for. We read "Me Too", which made me think of Gillian, following her siblings all over the place, trying to keep up. "And my little sister said, me too!", (Not anymore, she's blazing her own trail). Watching Sol and his determination to be independent, "do it myself", reminded me of Jessica. She was ferocious with her demands of doing it her way.

In addition to the flashback of my life when my kids were young, getting to know Sol a little better, being the recipient of his amazing smile, laughing together, meandering on our walk, stopping so many places along the way because it was of interest to him, answering his question,"Why?" until I ran out of answers, made for a magnificent day.

Love you forever Sol.

Singin' in the Rain

2009-01-07T21:15:00.000-08:00

Head up. Keep moving. Dance, Smile, Laugh, Love. Notice the good. Be thankful. And splash through those puddles on your way home.

Are You Ready?

2008-12-22T15:57:00.000-08:00

I've been asked this question more times than I can count. What does it mean? What are people really asking?
Am I ready to have 10 days off work? Well, yah.
Am I ready to see my daughter after 4 months away? Absolutely
Am I ready to spend a day with my sibs, in-laws, their families and my parents? For sure
Am I ready to indulge in some good food, laughter, sharing memories? Bring it on.
Am I ready to reflect on Peace, Joy, Love, and Hope? A definite yes.

Have I baked Christmas cookies, decorated the house, and purchased gifts yet? Well if that's the question then the answer would be no. This year there has been no preparation required. This Christmas season I haven't entered a mall. This year the trappings are absent. This year was the first time I thought the question, "Are you ready?", absurd.

This Christmas all that is required is that I am present, in the deepest sense of the word.

Shoot the Duck

2008-12-21T16:11:00.000-08:00

We went skating on Texas Lake today. It was so much fun and an absolutely gorgeous day. It was one of those days when you are so happy that you have friends like the ones who come out on a friggin' cold day to play with you, that you live in a beautiful environment like the Hope area, that you have all your faculties intact (3 years ago to the day that I whacked my noggin badly at same location) and all your limbs work so that you can "shoot the duck" and pick up speed on your long blades and feel like you're flying.

Rudy and I got there first so we got the first zamboni shift. Rudy cleared a huge perfect figure 8 with his shovel. I tried out my cross-cuts on the corners. The snow was so light that I could skate where it hadn't been shovelled yet. It was a little freaky not being able to see the ice beneath my feet. The reason I could do this with a sense that it was safe was that Dan had been to the lake the day before when there was no snow and he said the ice was thick all the way across.

Everyone took their turn at clearing more ice. When the rink was big enough, a hockey game broke out. I stood on the edge of the lake watching because I was wearing speed skates and they don't work well in stop/start activities. At that point I was wishing for a pair of hockey skates. I don't ever do well standing on the sidelines.

Dan started a fire so that we could roast our farmer sausage and smokies. I brought some of Mom's pickles and some buns. Peter brought the necessary chocolate for the occasion and several people brought hot cocoa. Potato chips, nuts and bolts, Christmas cookies, and cashews made up the rest of the food groups. As far as parties go, it was topnotch.

Ice Castles

2008-12-17T12:28:00.000-08:00

The lumber package arrived in Yale yesterday. It was promptly tarped to protect it from the forecasted dump of snow. I'm not sure if any framing is happening today as the wind is blowing the snow sideways.

I found myself worrying about the weather last week because of our housebuilding project. The sub zero temperatures were making the cement pour a little dicey. Worry is so pointless and energy sucking. On the walk to work this morning, I decided to enjoy the weather as I normally would if the snow had come down in any other year at this time.

A few of us have been discussing the probability of outdoor skating opportunities on one of the lakes in the area. We might have to shovel a bit but I'm thinking this coming weekend we could have a skating party. I'll keep you posted.

Before the Snow Flies

2008-12-10T09:12:00.000-08:00

Inspection on the new forms should happen tomorrow morning. Concrete poured by afternoon. It's supposed to snow on Friday so were on a tight schedule.

Now That's Progress

2008-12-04T16:25:00.000-08:00

Building permit has been given. Cement was poured today. Yeah! Rudy and I will strip forms on the weekend and build our lego walls. More cement to be poured early next week and then framing.

Gillian Goes to Peru

2008-11-20T21:38:00.000-08:00

We watched as she dismantled her room, packed one big backpack, filled out applications for universities, and said good-bye to friends,family and home.

We hugged her and then watched as she went through airport procedure and headed towards duty free, customs and beyond.

We walked away hand in hand, imagining life in Hope without Gillian.

Then we worried all the next day until we heard from her that she had arrived in Huancayo Peru.

Now we check her blog so that we can picture her in her new place, her new life, her new adventure.

Check it out gilliankehler.blogspot.com. She paints a unique picture with her words

Surreal

2008-11-17T15:22:00.000-08:00

I had the pleasure of hiking the Needle at night on Nov 10 with 14 others. It was a spiritual experience.

Half the group was 20 min ahead of our group. At one point I got in front of our group of six and hoofed it so that I could be alone. I knew there was a group ahead and a group behind so I felt safe enough to hike on my own. The moon peeked out from the clouds occasionally. I didn't need a head lamp because of the snow cover.
My thoughts were only in the moment. I was breathing in the air, the contentment, the cold, the warmth, the headiness of the whole experience. I was alone in the wilderness for the first time in a long time. It was night and I was becoming intimate with this trail once again. I loved the feel of the wind buffetting against me, the roots tripping me up, the feel of muscles working hard. I gloried in the spectacular view in the half light. I used all my senses all at once. I lived those moments to the fullest. I felt so alive, so vibrant, so full of myself, so full of the scene in which I was placed, so insignificant, a small part of an infinite whole, so centred.

Later, when we were all together plodding single file on the ridge with the blizzard hurling snow in our faces, I went into a zone, a pace, a meditation-like place. It was surreal

Storytelling

2008-11-17T14:26:00.000-08:00

Does the telling of a story water down the truth each time you tell it or does the truth become more concentrated? With each telling, does the story become more a part of you? Is the telling as important to the listener as to the storyteller and does it matter?

I tell stories all the time. I talk about what my children are doing all over the world right now. I tell the stories over and over. I tell friends about the joys and the sorrows. Of course in the telling, my own biases, joys, sorrows, and experiences flavour the original text. My love or dislike for the characters and happenings in these stories, change the composition. Maybe I should let my children tell their own stories and just shut up already.

angelakehler.blogspot.com and jkbotswana.blogspot.com. Gillian's blogspot, opening soon from Peru.

A few thoughts:

Facebook- relative, wide-spread intimacy is so easy, does it cheapen it?

Blogging- egotistic or healthy creative outlet and are these mutually exclusive?

This Mother's pride and joy- Are my friends tired of hearing about my wonderful children? Are my children going to stop telling me their stories because I tell others?(I hope they know that I don't tell their secrets)

Context, Plot, Characters, Setting- maybe I should find more material from my own life.

All of the above thoughts came after reading Jessica's most recent post on her blog. I wrote to her and what I told her among other things was that the telling of the stories is essential, that in the telling you change yourself. What I didn't mention is that in the telling you change the story.

Things I Want to Be Involved In:

2008-10-26T20:40:00.000-07:00

Community Literacy
Hope Little Theatre
Story Time in the Park
Kayaking
Writing
Celebration of Diversity
House building
Soccer event
Acquired Brain Injury Association
Friends
Homelessness project
Learning
Travel

Unsung Blues

2008-10-16T10:06:00.000-07:00

I have spent my days stringing and unstringing my instrument while the song I came to sing remains unsung. ~Rabindranath Tagore

What if the instrument is broken and you can't hear the song anymore?

What if you were never taught how to play or how to sing?

What if there never was a song?

Writing Practice

2008-10-15T22:33:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time there was an old abandoned delapitated house in a hamlet in the canyon. Some said it was haunted. The children of the village didn't go near the property when it was dark. There were rumours that someone had taken his own life in one of the out buildings situated next to the house. Some locals said there was a feeling around the place that made them uneasy.

One day a man and woman drove down the lane, parking the car just short of where the bushes and brambles were too thick to pass through. A tall, shaggy weeping willow guarded the entry onto the acre of land. Blackberry bushes all but obliterated the terraced rock-walled gardens. As they carefully picked their way through the prickly, clinging branches, they could hear the sounds of Spring above and below. Once they passed the various shacks hidden behind the vines, they found themselves in a small clearing. As they took a 360 degrees turn, they both realized at the same moment that they had to buy this beautiful place. Ahead was the old house. A look to the right revealed the mighty river forging through the rock canyon below. To the left and up hill were the gardens, almost snuffed out under the invasive blackberry bushes. Behind was the gate keeper, Mr Weeping Willow.

to be continued

Big Foot in the Mouth

2008-10-15T22:07:00.001-07:00

I participated in the Big Foot Toastmasters in Agassiz on three Mondays in September. I spoke on the table topics for 2 nights, (one on weather and one on a gardening metaphor with no prep time) and shared the "thought for the day" one evening. Nothing profound and I did have time to prepare.

I don't like going to these meetings but once I'm there, I'm glad I'm there, if that makes any sense at all. My goal is to change my style of speaking. I want to learn how to organize my thoughts and articulate them. I am not shy in front of a group. I have facilitated so many groups of varied sizes, in so many ways, in so many places. I do it well. I listen to the group and change things as I go, to reflect where the group wants to take it. I have no script.

What needs work, I think, is to speak with more content and less passion. I say what I feel but have a hard time saying what I think in any way that is concise and coherent. If people don't seem to get what I'm saying, I just say it over again with more passion. I don't usually have more information to give. I am short on details. I am a lousy debater.

The last 3 Mondays I have been unable to attend due to family and friends gathering for a celebration and a memorial. Next Monday I have to go to an event to promote my literacy program. I'm hoping that the following Monday, I will start again and maybe even pay the membership fee.

The Point

2008-09-20T08:51:00.000-07:00

Except for the point, the stillpoint, there would be no dance, and there is only the dance. ~T.S. Eliot

Today, I want to take the time to be still because I really want to dance. I always want to dance.

My Personal Legend

2008-09-18T22:03:00.000-07:00

Alchemy is any magical power or process that changes one thing into another. The ancients believed that if you got the chemistry right, you could change lead into gold.

I read "The Alchemist" recently. In the fable, the shepherd boy, Santiago has a dream about finding a treasure in Egypt near the pyramids. He meets a king who councils him to go after his dream, his Personal Legend, and pay attention to omens. Through out his journey he gets distracted from his goal, he experiences set backs, and bad things happen. Santiago learns many things along the way, finds true love, and discovers the power he has within. Eventually his search for his Personal Legend leads him back home. It's a beautiful story with so much to contemplate.

"When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it."
"What is the world's greatest lie? It's this: that at a certain point in our lives, we lose control of what's happening to us and our lives become controlled by fate."
"To realize one's destiny is a person's only obligation."

I used this "Alchemy" theme in a teambuilding workshop that I facilitated today. One of the questions I asked was, "Where in the world were you when you discovered what your Personal Legend is and what is it?"

My Personal Legend, if I can be so bold as to say it out loud, is to be an activist, an advocate, an author and an actor.

"When you possess great treasures within you and try to tell others of them, seldom are you believed."

*above quotes are taken from The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

Satiated

2008-08-27T22:09:00.000-07:00

I had a great weekend. I spent time with all of my sibs and some of their kids and one of mine. I ate fantastic food, had interesting conversations, went for fast paced walks, experienced some country roads riding high in a truck, cheered on some atheletes in China from the couch, won thousands of dollars playing wheel of fortune, saw a nudee on the seawall, (and averted mine eyes of course), zoomed in and out of traffic in a convertible with my hair blowing in the breeze, was pampered with a pedicure, took in Bard on the Beach, and people-watched as I public transitted my way back to my van. All done with dear family members between Thursday evening and Saturday evening.

On Sunday I went to Yale for a BC 150 year celebration with friends, got to dress up in period costume, eat bannock, drink rootbeer and pan for gold.

That evening I was part of a hamburger extravaganza at a friend's house and experienced the best hamburger ever. Homemade buns exactly the size of the patties, beef freshly ground from chuck steak in that very kitchen, melted blue cheese, a peanut/mayo spread, another exotic spread of unknown ingredients, tomatoes, lettuce, fried onions, and ketchup if you wanted it.

Home Alone

2008-08-18T15:57:00.000-07:00

Can you believe it? For the first time in my life, I will be home alone for longer than a couple of nights. No one's schedule to consider except mine. No children to take care of, no husband to consider. Wow.

Rudy is leaving today for almost 2 weeks to Educo Adventure School, near 100 Mile House. Our son Paul, who is on staff there, has asked his papa to join him in leading a senior boys mountain course.

Gillian is living and working at Educo as well. Angela is living and working at Manning and Jessica is living and working in Vancouver.

I have to work during the week of course and I do have plans. On Thursday of this week I will trek off to Surrey after work to have supper with my parents and stay for night. The next morning, bright and early, I will hitch a ride with my brother, Gord, as he spends his work day delivering barkmulch and hog fuel in his semi. Back to his place to have supper with his family and then out to Bard on the Beach, to see Twelfth Night with my niece Karli. For Saturday morning my sister Bev has booked a pedicure for both of us in Yale Town. We plan to have a wonderful lunch somewhere with Jessica joining us. The afternoon is still open. We will probably hang around the ocean if the weather is good. I hope to drop in on my brother Don and family on the way home.

So for the beginning of this week and all of next, I will be free to read, watch movies, write, excercise, do something unusual, call on friends, make popcorn for supper ...

Any ideas?

Mamma Mia

2008-08-12T21:53:00.000-07:00

About 15 of us women went and saw Mamma Mia on cheapy Tuesday at the Hope Cinema. The theatre was full. I loved the musical from the opening line till after the credits rolled, and I'm not really an Abba fan. There was so much frivolity and light-heartedness packed into it. I loved the dancing and singing. I had a grin on my face for the length of the movie, laughed more than I have in a long time and even cried during a poignant moment.
So call me shallow if you like but I still have a smile on my face and a feeling of lightness.
"Half awake and half in dreams,seeing long forgotten scenes"

Tolstoy Lied

2008-08-05T20:07:00.000-07:00

"Happiness is the ability to live well alongside trouble" ~Rachel Kadish from Tolstoy Lied
I loved this book. The characters are well developed, believable, funny, human. I couldn't put the book down and I was sorry when I finished reading. I will miss Tracy and George, Yolande, Chad, Adam, Jeff and all the others. They made me think about love, sacrifice, truth, justice, integrity, compassion, laughter, and all those other things on the flip side of those coins.
Allow me another quote, "...where logic evaporates and all that remains is a single instinct, that love is simply this--this monumental and elementary thing: the willingness to be changed by someone."

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Life is Good

2008-07-29T09:44:00.000-07:00

The South Brooks to the Bunsbies

2008-07-28T21:36:00.000-07:00

I just got back from an 8 day kayaking trip with 7 women.
It was magnificent.
The ocean with its many moods, the trees, the sun, the white sandy beaches, the west coast mist, the ferns, the rock, the sea creatures, the sunsets, the sunrises, the big sky, the changing clouds, the taste of salt, the clean air, the bear eating seaweed, the colours under the sea, the otters, the seals, the wind, the waves, the surf, the ride, the boats' sleekness, the paddles' sound as they slice the water, the totems, the tide rising and falling and how it changes the look and feel of a place, breathing, the inlets to explore, the eagles standing guard in the tallest barest trees, the loneliness, the nakedness, the vulnerability, the intimacy, the community, the aroma of supper cooking.

The Otesha Project

2008-07-15T17:25:00.000-07:00

I had the pleasure of hosting a sustainability in action group called "The Otesha Project". Otesha means "reason to dream" in Swahili. This group of young adults from across Canada are cycling from Vancouver BC to Calgary Alberta to tell, live, sing, dance, act their message about being the change they want to see in the world. In many communities along the way, they present a humorous, informative play about how to live in a sustainable way.

Their message was full of possibilities and opportunities, without the guilt thrown in. At the end of the performance they gave out postcards, (on recycled paper), with the word Hope on the front. The idea is to write down 1 thing that you want to change in your life to make it more sustainable, do that thing for a week and then send the postcard to The Otesha Project office.

What was so refreshing for me was that this group, (wearing old t-shirts, turned in side out, with The Otesha Project put on them), was walking the talk, but not in arrogance. They believe that making these individual changes in their lives will make a difference in our world.

A few Otesha Project suggestions: Put rocks in your toilet tank so that it doesn't fill up with so much water; don't flush if it's yellow, only if it's brown; turn water off in the shower while sudsing up and then on again to rinse; eat organic, fair trade, local, not processed, not fast food; decrease amount of meat you eat, particularly beef; buy used clothing; cycle instead of drive; buy alternative energy cars; recycle; use cloth bags when shopping; take the bus or train instead of flying; and on and on it goes.

I have to admit that I have been a bit sceptical and depressed about the little difference I can make in slowing global warming and contributing to sustainability. My energy towards this has been flagging. Since participating in the Otesha Project in a small way, I feel rejuvinated and my "reason to dream" has been reinstated.

Four Wishes

2008-07-11T13:03:00.000-07:00

I would like Hope and District to be a plastic bag free community. It shouldn't be too hard to do. Our 2 grocery stores have cloth bags that can be purchased. All they have to do now is not supply any plastic bags.

I would like Hope and District to ban the selling and use of pesticides and weed killers. It hurts me to see the birds eating bugs and worms from lawn sprayed with chemicals, not to mention the babies crawling on these green places, picking up objects to suck on. Oh and what's with the railway companies spraying herbicides along the tracks to the extent that the trees are dying.

I would like to be able to buy locally grown produce in the grocery stores in Hope. If this isn't an option and it appears that it isn't, I might have to go to Agassiz and buy directly from the farmers. But then my dilemma will be that I will have to burn fossil fuels to get there.

I would like to be able to park my bike in various places in Hope. I think the benefits of more people cycling to work and to the shops, far outweigh the costs of installing a few secure bike stands. The touring cyclists would appreciate it too.

That's all I want for now. Is that too much to ask?

Illusive Happiness

2008-07-06T10:33:00.000-07:00

I just finished Anne Giardini's book "The Sad Truth About Happiness". It had some great moments but overall I thought it lacked fluidity. The author would break out in beautiful, scensory paragraphs that didn't fit into where the story was at or where I thought the mood was going.

Having said all that, the novel made me think. At the end of the book, after the main character has spent a fair amount of time alone, she comes up with this thought, " I am no longer in pursuit of happiness. As I stand here at my front door, key in hand, I think it is just possible that happiness, at least for now, today, this hour, may be in pursuit of me." Aaah, she has arrived.

I'm wondering if instead of what Freud said, (human sexual drive/instinct is stronger than even our survival instinct)-that the strongest drive in humans is our pursuit of happiness. Perhaps we have evolved to this or maybe this is a path that is inherent in the North American culture only.

I try so hard to make all the right choices in life and I have made many. I have all the ingredients in my life that should make happiness. I have someone (s) to love, I have something to do, and I have something to look forward to. I have to admit that I'm not always happy and I'm tired of trying so hard.

I'm going to quit the pursuit. And when happiness hits me, I'm going to suck up that moment and then breathe it out again. Wish me luck or better yet, wish me happiness.

Empty nest leads to...

2008-06-25T15:58:00.000-07:00

So this is the plan:

Continue excercise program

Work on Yale House

Blog once per week

Intentionally find alone moments, in the wild

Research education possibilities including political science, writing, theatre, environmental studies ( for the winter, spring)

Be more intentional about keeping in touch with family and friends

Dippety Do

2008-06-24T14:26:00.001-07:00

I've been dragging myself around emotionally. It could be because my youngest has just graduated from high school and she is going to move away. Or it could be because it is summer and there hasn't been much sun, or I need a vacation, or I need something new to challenge me, or...

I was scheduled to facilitate a life skills workshop this afternoon. One woman showed up. One man showed up inebriated. I suggested he head on home. One woman checked in to say she couldn't stay due to a major conflict in a significant relationship. One woman phoned to say she couldn't make it. One man just didn't show.

My emotional dip seems insignificant compared to most of the rest of the world. So maybe I should just get on with living and stop mopin' about.

Two Things

2008-02-01T11:27:00.000-08:00

I was at a funeral on one of the local reserves this week. You can read about it in more detail on my friend's blog: http://cyndismusings.blogspot.com/. I had a similar experience to Cyndi's and she describes it well. I saw beauty, love, faith and genuineness. However, my overwhelming emotion was an extreme sadness for this People who live in poverty, with addictions, with deep seeded, generational damage, and the bastardization of their culture. How can this People ever climb out of this darkness. Where do they begin?

Last night we were talking about a book that my daughter was looking at. It contained bios of women who have done great things for humanity. My daughter's response was that she was overwhelmed by the task of making a difference, creating change, being an activist. She doesn't know where to begin. I suggested that each day is an opportunity to love, to promote peace, to care, to advocate, to help people to help themselves, to collaborate, to celebrate diversity, to dance, (well, not in those exact words).

Isobel Allende (paraphrased by Maureen)

2008-01-12T23:07:00.000-08:00

I just listened to a speech by Isobel Allende on the internet. Then I went to her bio, picture gallery, and Foundation website. She is an inspiring, hum0rous, passionate person. She has written many novels, 3 of which I've just ordered from the library. I can hardly wait to start reading. Isobel talks about how women make up about 51% of the population and they have access to about 1% of the world's resources. She says that when women are empowered and educated, and employed on a global scale, the world will be saved from destruction, wars will end, equity and economic stability will prevail. At one time, her daughter told her that feminism was out-dated. Isobel responded by saying that you can change the name if you like, (giving some unique suggestions), but until women and young girls are no longer raped, exploited, living in poverty, uneducated, and under-valued, we must continue to be activists and advocates for women around the globe.

A list of some of her books:

The House of the Spirits
Eva Luna
The Stories of Eva Luna
Ines of my Soul
My Invented Country
Paula
Aphrodite. A Memoir of the Senses

An Isobel Allende quote:

It is a wonderful truth that things we want most in life-a sense of purpose, happiness, and hope- are most easily attained by giving them to others.

I Love Green

2007-12-16T20:38:00.001-08:00

CBC Radio had a great line-up today. The first story was about the former mayor of Bogota, Columbia, Enrique Penalosa and how he pedestrianized the city, not without major flack, including an impeachment movement. Some consultants from Japan came in and said to build more highways and he said no. Instead, Mr Penalosa introduced "no car" days and many pedestrian- only intersections. More sidewalks and bike lanes were created. Money was spent on public tranportation and developing public green space.

Mr Penalosa is now an international consultant, specializing in sustainable city planning. He speaks around the world about how making a city more liveable makes for less pollution and for much happier citizens. I don't remember too many details, but one thing he said stuck with me: "Democracy is not just people being able to vote, democracy is all about the good of all the people, not just private enterprise".

It's so refreshing to hear that democracy is not synonymous with capitalism, as we North Americans have so readily bought into. But then, it's ironic that Enrique Penalosa's first book is titled "Capitalism: The Best Option". More reading required, I think.

Now That I've Got Your Attention

2007-12-13T19:30:00.000-08:00

I'm really excited about the Christmas break. Mostly I'm looking forward to family discussions, horsing around, meals and walks together. Jessica is coming home for a week or so. Paul will be around for some of the days. Gillian will be house sitting so we can gather at a new place for an evening or two. We hope to meet with friends. On Christmas Eve we will be at the Yale property with a big bon fire, a lit up live tree, presents, and hot drinks. Come join us.

Swallowed

2007-12-13T19:03:00.000-08:00

I've never felt this way about a job before. I can't let it go. My life seems to be swallowed by it.

The Community Adult Literacy Program will only develop if I push it forward. There is no inherent momentum yet. I have to constantly talk about it, contact people, ask for volunteers, find the learners, meet with potential community partners, write, tell, act the story. The problem lies in that I don't stop when we shut off the lights and lock the doors at the office. My head is constantly in a spin about what to do next and who to talk with.

I'm so tired by the end of the day that I don't have much left for my family. Even when I'm with them, sometimes I find my mind wandering to the next event that I have to plan and promote. So many evenings and weekends have been and are going to be swallowed up, if not with billable hours, than with thinking and planning hours at home when I want to be focusing on family.

I don't resent the job yet. I'm passionate about this program and how it can help people increase their quality of life. I just want some down time to run, or write, or play games or read, or hike or paddle without the project's magnitude seeping in.

At some point I'm going to have to realize at some level that no matter what happens to the program, I've done my job and then some.

Mended Heart

2007-11-16T22:26:00.000-08:00

Twenty-two years ago yesterday, our 5 month old baby Angela had open heart surgery to patch a hole between the ventricles in her heart. I don't always think about her operation on Nov 15 but this year the memory is so clear. Maybe it's because Angela is away travelling, experiencing new things that I have no part of. Perhaps it's because I met her cardiologist, Dr Patterson, on a street in Vancouver last week, randomly. I hadn't seen him in about 15 years.

For whatever reason, I am recalling that traumatic event and talking about it to friends, some of whom haven't heard the story before. I remember Angela's failure to thrive, lack of weight gain, infections, and dehydration leading up to the surgery date. She had so many medical tests and for 10 days had to be fed through a nasal gastric tube. She had medical students, doctors, and nurses poking and prodding her daily.

Surgery day came and went. Successful operation we were told. She'll be off the respirator in a day, out of ICU in 3 days, and home in 10-14 days they said. In reality, she was still on a respirator after a week. I had become an RN just over a year before. I knew there was reason for concern. I sat beside Angela's bed from early morning until late at night for days on end. Rudy would come to the hospital straight from work and we would sit and watch our sedated angel with her shaved head and tubes and wiring and monitors. I asked many questions of the nurses. I got the sense that Angela was not responding the way the medical staff expected. I told them what I thought needed to be done to change things, decreasing the valium for one. Again, Angela's body reacted in inexplicable ways. I wanted answers.

Angela was taken off the respirator on day 7 and transferred to a regular ward shortly after. She screamed for 36 hours straight with fisted hands, arched back, toes curled, and diarrhea. No one could tell me what was going on. I don't think the doctors were sure.

This is where Dr Patterson comes in. He had been on rounds before and had heard my concerns and tried to answer my questions. But on this particular day, post-op day 13 or so, he listened to the resident's report and then turned to me and asked me what I thought should be done. I said, "Let us take her home, she needs to be home." He said she's discharged. The resident doctor argued and Dr Patterson said, it's important to listen to the mother. Within an hour of being home, Rudy and I noticed a change in Angela, she smiled at us, she opened her hands, she relaxed her body and cuddled.

Angela hasn't had any problems with her heart since. She has been monitored regularly for years and everything is fine.

So this is a tribute and a thank you to Dr Patterson for being an amazing, intuitive, compassionate pediatric cardiologist.

And of course a tribute to Angela for being the beautiful, strong, sensitive woman that she has grown to be. Thank you for not giving up the fight.

The Power of the Word

2007-11-15T21:27:00.000-08:00

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." John 1:1

So I'm going to take this verse out of context and I'm going to interpret it in an unorthodox, heretical, possibly blasphemous way:

"In the beginning, when language first came to be, it was powerful, it was good, it was the spiritual connect."

I've been thinking about language and communication lately. The following is my recent flow of thought or rather meandering, leaping, spinning of it:

The power of the word- is the written word more powerful than the oral?
Why is it so important for me to write it down? Is it about leaving something of myself behind?

How we use language-
1. Language used as a weapon, as a means of control, manipulation, exploitation. I'm thinking of the large number of spin doctors in positions of power in government, religion, families.
2. Spiritual experiences; free expression; freedom of speech; making sense of our existence; we live to connect with our universe and to tell someone about it. (How the Bible will not ever be completed because it is the record of the humans' God connection experience. Why do we try to make a two thousand year old account of the God experience more relevant, give it more credence than we do our own God connection?)

We are a Story People. We have been from the beginning, we are with the Word, we are the Word.

So that's where my head has been at lately. Care to comment, discuss, connect, tell me your story?

Books

2007-11-13T22:05:00.001-08:00

I just finished the book, "In the Place of Last Things" by Micheal Helm. It was promising. Lagged a bit in the middle and then had what I would consider a sad ending. Things happened in the book but mostly inside the main character's head. You know how some books can be so sad and yet have a thread of hope throughout. This one seemed sad and hopeless. There was no real conclusion. You didn't find out in the end if everything was going to be all right. Or maybe it was just the mood I was in.

Before that I read "The Book of Stanley". It had potential, an interesting idea, but disappointing in the lack of depth.

Before that I read "The Book Thief". This one was great. This one was a book that I was sad to finish, one that I wanted to hold on to. The characters still live within me. How do authors do that?

I'm in the middle of "The Shock Doctrine" by Naomi Klein. I put it aside for awhile because it makes me angry and feeling impotent. I wish she didn't just state the problem but had solutions.
Maybe that comes later.

I picked up two books off the library shelf today. One is called The Preservationist by David Maine. It's about Noah and the Ark. Promising so far. The other is by Ann Patchett, author of "Bel Canto", which I thoroughly enjoyed, sad but with that thread of hope I seem to need. This one is called "Run".

I just ordered "Saturday" by Ewen somebody, can't remember. And I ordered "Water for Elephants" which has 78 holds on 6 copies or something like that. These last 2 come highly recommended by friends who have always had good picks.

Staying Afloat

2007-10-30T21:19:00.000-07:00

1. Hit the waves head on.
2. Keep paddling.

3. Ride the seams sideways, (commit to neither of the opposing currents).

4. Know when to “high-side”, (take drastic action).

5. Know when to “get down and hold on”.

6. Direction is very important and can change at any moment.

7. Reaction time is critical.

8. Power and energy, your own and the crew’s is essential.

9. Communicate what you need from the others in your boat.

10. Know when to eddy out and rest.

11. Know how and when to get back in the current.

12. Enjoy the ride.

13. Your “Personal Floatation Device” will bob you to the surface when you fall in.

My PFD is that place within me that is safe and secure. No one can mess with it. It doesn’t matter what I’ve done or not done. It doesn’t matter if I haven't met my own or others’ expectations. It's okay if I'm turned around and directionless. It’s a place where I can just be afloat.

Words to Live By

2007-10-28T22:08:00.000-07:00

Creative Solutions
Respect
Empowerment
Loyalty
Resilience
Patience
Contentment
Integrity
Determination
Adaptability
Cooperativeness
Conflict resolution

This Old House

2007-10-23T22:22:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time there was an old abandoned delapitated house in a small town in the canyon. Some said it was haunted. The children of the village didn't go near the property when it was dark. There were rumours that someone had taken his own life in one of the out buildings situated next to the main house. Some locals said there was a feeling around the place that made one uneasy.

One day a couple drove down the lane, parking the car just short of where the bushes and brambles were too thick to pass through. A tall, shaggy weeping willow guarded the entry onto the acre of land. Blackberry bushes all but obliterated the terraced rock-walled gardens. As they carefully picked their way through the prickled, clinging branches, they could hear the sounds of Spring above and below. Once they passed the various shacks hidden behind the vines, they found themselves in a small clearing. As they took a 360 degrees turn, they both realized at the same moment that they had to buy this beautiful place. Ahead was the old house. A look to the right revealed the mighty river forging through the rock canyon below. Behind was the gate keeper, Mr Weeping Willow. To the left and up hill were the gardens, almost snuffed out under the invasive blackberry bushes.

to be continued

Reading Between the Lines

2007-10-23T20:55:00.000-07:00

Two of our children are travelling. I read their blogs recently and this is what I figure is happening:

Our son has met and is now dating a young woman who is this year's "Perfect Woman" champion of New Zealand. She grew up on a sheep farm and is known to dance in the paddock.

Our daughter has joined the Hari Krishnas in New Orleans. It was the food that attracted her to the cult, oh and the robes she gets to wear.

For verification go to http://mlleangela.livejournal.com/ and http://paulkehler.blogspot.com/

Ha ha, made you look

CALL Me

2007-10-18T20:58:00.000-07:00

Literacy is liberty. It's freedom to reach for the stars. This is my mantra. This is my chant. This is my story. This is my song.
I have a new job. I am the Community Literacy Coordinator for Hope and area. My job, to put it simply, is to match tutors with learners and facilitate learning. The program is called Community Access to Literacy and Learning, (CALL). This is for ESL learners and adults who are challenged with reading, writing and arithmatic. I'm excited about this new venture, and overwhelmed, and afraid.
I still remember when I first learned to read. Magic! I remember the first story that I wrote. It was about two kids on an adventure at sea. Oh to be able to be a part of the adventure for adults who missed the boat for various reasons when they were kids.

Middle Age Blues

2007-10-07T12:45:00.000-07:00

I am depressed. Our children are grown up and leaving. This should be a cause for celebration since it indicates in my mind that we did mostly the right things as parents. We got what we worked towards. Happy days. The problem lies in that we have these adult children who are so fun and interesting that we want to hang around them. They're going off for adventures and we're staying here. I know that we will survive this and find other fun and interesting people to be with. We have a great group of friends, jobs that we enjoy most of the time, outdoor pursuits, and a house that needs renovation. We have 2 out of 4 kids who are close by. Everyone is happy and heathy. So why is this so difficult?

Summer Days Drifting Away

2007-09-06T14:31:00.000-07:00

Haida Gwaii.
Islands of the People.
Children of the Eagle and Raven
Standing poles.
The remains of villages.
Eagles perched and watching, giving permission to pass this way.
The wind song on the raven's wings.
Silence, pleasant, laid back, relaxing.
Gwaii Haanas.
Islands of Beauty
Silence, calm seas, currents, the undersea gardens.
Sea lions churning up the water.
Seals getting close enough to splash me.
Caves, sea birds.
Ducking for cover as they flew over our heads.
Bambi at all the campsites.
Nature, no garbage, intertidal flush.
Old trees with moss beards.
Counting the fish jumping.
Paddle strokes, the rhythm.
Lazy mornings.
The aroma of supper cooking mixed with the ocean breeze.
Listening to the rain drops on the tent at night.
Sunsets, sunrises, sunlight, sunshine.

And on the 7th Day...

2007-07-23T14:21:00.001-07:00

"Stress is basically a disconnection from the earth, a forgetting of the breath. Stress is an ignorant state. It believes that everything is an emergency. Nothing is that important. Just lie down." ~ Natalie Goldberg

Last week, I had an emotionally and physically demanding week. On Saturday morning I woke up after a full night's sleep, feeling drugged. I puttered, (more like dragged, puttered connotes some kind of energy), around the house in the morning and had a 2 hour nap in the afternoon. On Sunday I spent the morning dreaming and planning a trip to the Charlottes and the afternoon sitting at our Yale property staring at the Fraser River and contemplating not much of anything. And it was good.

An Excerpt From My Solo Experience in June

2007-07-18T11:30:00.000-07:00

I just realized that I had zero chocolate yesterday. This must be the first day of abstinence in months. It was unintentional really. I paddled for 6.5 hours on Okanagan Lake, looking at mansions of decadence. No chocolate on board. Maybe that was it. Too much richness and affluence all in one day. If I had chocolate on top of that, it would just make me sick. I guess if I would have purchased free trade chocolate, I might have been o.k. The thing is, I never even thought of chocolate the whole day. Maybe I'm turning over a new leaf. A green, environmentally sound, healthy, self disciplined sort of leaf.

I want to buy local fruit only. I want to buy organically grown meat only. Eat less meat. Use fewer resources. Make environmentally friendly choices. I think my stress level is directly related to not living out my convictions. I say all these things about slowing global warming and making a difference, turning the tide. I think the thing is that I'm not willing to sacrifice my lifestyle.

I lived by very strict rules for most of my life, am now experiencing more freedom from guilt, only to grab hold of another religion. All those years of living within the bounds of church doctrine, I feel like I held back some of my natural desires and inclinations for decades. Even though I'm sold on this new religion, I'm not quite ready to follow all the rules.

This is depressing, isn't it? I need me a cause. Why can't helping people to employment be enough. Why can't all my rich friendships and family relationships be enough. Why can't writing on a blog be enough. Why can't caring about the environment be enough. Why can't reading enriching books be enough. Why can't paddling and cycling and hiking and ... be enough. I want to make a difference in this world. How much self aggrandizement is involved in this desire?

I suffer from"It isn't enough" disease. I need to have more compassion, more tolerance, more respect for people who are different than I, people who have different rules for life. Lately, I've been impatient with process. I wrote a blog on stupid people (but didn't publish it) and how tired I am of trying to help people who don't seem to have a clue how to make sound decisions. How condescending is that? I'm tired of expectations, mine and everyone's. I'm tired of trying so hard to do things right. I'm tired of caring.

Writer's Block

2007-06-29T15:55:00.001-07:00

Last week, I met a woman who has written many short stories, (one published), a number of children's stories, and a novel. The novel has been sent to many publishers with no positive results. She is convinced it is good writing and a great story. This isn't just her opinion, some people who have read it have told her so.

I was beginning to think that it is the writing that is the thing, the process that is important, the balance, the healing, the working through things that really matters. I read "Bird By Bird", a book on writing, and the author says all this, more eloquently and humourously. She says that it doesn't matter how often she tells the writers in her workshops and courses that being published is a sidebar and if you want to write, just write. This is still the number one question, "How do I go about getting published?" What is it about being published that's so important? I guess it's a form of validation. Deep down, I think I believe that no matter how much I write, unless something of mine is published, I'm not a writer.

This is all an aside. I say I want to write and I do but I don't write. This woman has written and I'm jealous. What an accomplishment. How many people can say they've done that much. I'm tired of writing about writing and the lack of it in my life.

Away

2007-06-04T22:51:00.000-07:00

Opportunity dances...
I'm in Kelowna this week. Time away from work and other responsibilities. Time to paddle and think and feel and connect to the earth. Time to cycle and breathe and explore. Time to read and write. Time to reflect and plan.
Yikes, I'm only here for 3 days and I expect so much.

I Got Me Religion

2007-05-30T10:59:00.000-07:00

I just watched "An Inconvenient Truth". I know I'm behind the rest of the population in watching it, but I finally did. I was able to get past Al Gore's campaign for presidency and hear the message. I thought it was a well done doom and gloom piece with hope mixed in at the end. I think everyone should watch it or something like it. The environment and its salvation should be the only religion. Now don't I sound fanatical.

Plot Light

2007-04-30T15:39:00.000-07:00

Positoning of ladder
Tool in her pocket
Rung by rung
Precarious perch
In the dark

Reefing on nuts
Tilting, swivelling
Barn doors and gel
Focus, get rid of spill
Telescoping

Down on the stage below
Her friend dancing, spinning,
In her own little world
Spots and dots and colour
Bright light

Four Beautiful Things

2007-04-27T22:27:00.000-07:00

1. I saw my first fairy slipper of the season.
2. I visited Fern Gully(aka Spirit Caves Trail) and it was beautiful even in the pouring rain.
3. I watched the documentary "Stone Reader", about reading and writing obssessions.
4. I discovered a "Three Beautiful Things" blog.

Bogged Down

2007-04-24T08:59:00.000-07:00

I finally finished English August, An Indian Story. I've commented on this book in a previous post on a positive note. That was written after 1/3 of the book was read. After trudging through the middle section, my impression of the novel changed. I felt bogged down by the main character's passivity. I got tired of watching his masturbation practices and his marijuana hazed days. His nonsensical lies and petty tricks weren't funny anymore. His whining did not induce empathy or simpathy but exasperation on his inability to find meaning in anything. And in the end, he goes home to daddy.

It's not that I don't understand depression or loneliness. I've been there. Maybe I wanted the hero to rise above it. Perhaps I needed a happier ending or at least a few things resolved. A thread of hope would have been nice.

Break A Leg

2007-04-16T15:11:00.000-07:00

I'm so tired. I've spent hours and hours on Hope Little Theatre's production of "Moo" by Sally Clark. I have a small part and I have the job of production manager. There is just over 2 weeks till showtime and still so much to do. Some nights I can't sleep because of the thoughts and lists swirling around in my head. There seems to be so much riding on the success of my performance. Why is that I wonder? What am I trying to prove and to whom. It's just a play. I have no reputation to live up to because I've never done anything like this before. I took it on to stretch, try something new, challenge myself. Mission accomplished and I'm soooo tired.

These group endeavours are complicated. The success or failure isn't totally dependent on my energy, enthusiasm, or skills (or lack of) alone. Up until this week, it has mostly been fun. In the last few days, my anxiety level has increased substantially and I've noticed I'm not alone in this. There were a few others letting their crankiness show. As we waded through the whole play, there were moments of clarity and flow and brilliant momentum and timing. There was much murkiness and blundering as well. The missed cues and bumbling lines were the least of it. The technical complexities of a 2 act play with 47 scenes and 18 characters, (played by 10 actors), taking place from 1919 to the 1970's, can cause headaches and sleep deprivation. I know we'll pull this off and it will be fun and the audience will be entertained and possibly captivated. In the meantime, did I mention how tired I am?

Knowing When to Let Go

2007-04-08T10:39:00.000-07:00

I've been frustrated with a few people lately and haven't been able to let it go. I've been dwelling on the irritants in these relationships and it has coloured the way I perceive subsequent interactions with these same people. The negativity has leaked into the rest of my life as well. It has zapped me.

Last week on my walk home from work I intentially discarded the contrariety like a heavy cloak. I walked into the house feeling lighter than I had in a long time. Three of my children were sitting in the living room yakking, enjoying each others company. My spirit lifted even more as I became a part of that moment of connectedness. I was high on love and positive energy. The kids asked me what had happened to make me so happy. I told them, (not in so many words), that it was their "being" that elated me, the fact that they get along and that we all belong. My great mood lasted several days.

Good moods and moments come and go, sometimes like a pendulum. Actually, I prefer a trapese analogy. I'm grabbing hold of these moments, holding on as if my life depended on it, and then swinging and letting go to the next as it comes close enough. Timing is everything.

An Indian Story

2007-04-08T09:15:00.000-07:00

I'm reading "English, August An Indian Story", by Upamanyu Chatterjee. It's a coming of age story and is beautifully written. The main character, Agastya (August) is in a boring, mind numbing civil service job in the back of beyond. He is extremely lonely and feeling displaced. The narrative takes you to a version of every day colourful, comical India and dissects the usual, "who am I and why am I here" questions in a unique way.

" He felt that one saw significant moments in time only retrospectively, glittering mocking jewels of past time, that left in their wake only regret and consequent desolation, the first cause of a series of atonements and attempts at reparation. Most men, like him, chose in ignorance, and fretted in an uncongenial world, and learnt to accept and compromise, with or without grace, or slipped into despair.... I want to know in the present, I want my reason, and not even my intuition, but my reason, to tell me, here, you are now master of your time to come, act accordingly. But it seemed incapable of directing significant action. Once he had believed that it was good to be rational, but now it seemed that his reason could never answer the overwhelming questions...One way out was to turn to the extra-terrestrial, to believe in that special providence; ... another was to slink away from having to think..."

Negated

2007-03-07T12:42:00.000-08:00

Squished
Smashed

Impeded
Stopped
Paralyzed

Entangled
Suspended
Ended

Discontinued
Cancelled
Nullified
Eliminated

Just Joking

2007-03-06T11:35:00.000-08:00

I have a hard time laughing at myself. I pride myself in having a sense of humour and yet I can't just laugh off mistakes, or naivite, or confusion. When my children or husband imitate or mock me, I can't join in the joke. I don't like looking foolish.

I have this underlying inferiority complex. I grew up thinking that I never knew what everyone else already knew. I worked hard at school and got good marks but still felt that I wasn't very intelligent. To this day, I'm intimidated by people who have degrees or seem to have an abundance of knowledge and/or education.

When I speak out about something, usually I speak from feelings rather than thoughts. I'm passionate but vague. I don't remember details and when I present, I'm not very logical. I'm very conscious about knowing how I feel but not really knowing what I think. I'm not a quick wit and I can't think on my feet.

I would like to lighten up about me and not take me so seriously. I want to be more layed back about the mistakes I make and the learning process. I think that would make life much more fun.

Secrets

2007-03-05T21:40:00.000-08:00

If knowledge is power and ignorance is bliss, which one would you pick?

Inside Out

2007-03-05T21:37:00.001-08:00

I'm attending an art class every Friday. Most of the time while painting I don't feel very creative inside because the painting process is quite structured. It seems like one step up from a paint by numbers course. The results are acceptable. My paintings could be hung on a wall and possibly appreciated. In fact, I have one in my office at work.

I joined a theatre group this year. It's a new experience for me. My main role is production manager but I also have a small part. Last rehearsal I had to stand in for someone who was absent. The character I played is the second wife to a "rotter" of a man, whom some say is attractive. The scene was in the bedroom and was quite playful in the intimate sense of the word. On the inside, I was really into the part, enjoying the flirting and having a wonderful time. I've been told that on the outside I looked like a skittish virgin. No nomination for an Oscar this year. I hold on to the comment from our director, "You have stage presence, you just need a little coaching and lots of practice, that's all."

Random Happenings and Needless Worry

2007-01-11T10:48:00.000-08:00

The night before last a friend was injured inside her house here in Hope. A piece of a neighbour's sundeck was severed and picked up by the hurricane force winds, flew over the roof and smashed into her entrance way, taking her out and her daughter, who happened to be going downstairs at that moment. The girl has a concussion and the mother has many broken ribs and other fractures. The extent of her injuries is still being determined. She is in stable condition in the hospital.

Last night, my daughter was late coming back from the ski hill. I was a wreck. I had imagined all kinds of things: that she hadn't even made it to Manning, that she was lying unconscious in the car at the bottom of a cliff, bleeding, broken, and dying of hypothermia, undetected by passing motorists. Another scenario was that she was strapped to a spine board heading to the hospital in the ambulance, after miscalculating a jump on her snowboard. Another was that she was crushed dead, in the car, against a rock face. My imagination went as far as the memorial service, and life after Gillian. Unbearable. I imagined what I would be like, blaming someone and then everyone, that I wouldn't care about anything anymore, I wouldn't care about anyone else. I would crawl inside myself and my spirit would die. My daughter showed up an hour late with a reasonable explanation of the delay. It turned out that she and her friend (the driver) were helping someone out.

I could say the worry from last night had everything to do with the events of the night before but that wouldn't be true. I could say that ever since I fractured my skull last year in a skating accident I worry more, or that ever since I rolled my Suburban down an embankment in icy road conditions about 8 years ago, or that ever since my son Paul was brought down the ski hill on a stretcher 9 years ago, or...

Worry is such a useless and debilitating emotion and I wish I could purge it from my being forever.

Spoiled

2006-12-27T10:20:00.000-08:00

I think I've ruined my kids for the mundane. I've always spoken of lofty things: changing the world, unconditional love, non violence, living with integrity, following your dreams, living life to the fullest. I've been cynical about religion, shunned the ordinary, preached about taking care of the environment. My children know about responsibility, carrying their own weight, supporting others who can't, loyalty, going for the gold...

I think it is the everyday of life that defeats them. My youngest daughter is expecting her life to begin when she graduates from high school, in the meantime she is just putting in time. One daughter, at the age of 21, is searching for her passion, her reason for being. Doing exceptionally well at the 4 different jobs that she holds, just isn't good enough. My son is determined to have a job that is exciting and risky, and requires very little paper work. That's after he gets home from his surfing trip to the Baja. His recreational habits are indicative of his desire to live a non boring life. One daughter works out twice a day to compete on a varsity rowing team. It's not enough to just go to university.

At times, it is the everyday of life that cripples me. I want life to be bigger than life and I think I passed this on to my off spring. I want to change the world, live with intention, give, speak, teach, cry, laugh, dance, risk, work, live with abandon, with a clear conscience.

The fact is that I believe in "the Dream" and so do my children and we're only satisfied when we're living it.

Happiness

2006-11-28T21:08:00.000-08:00

from Robert Mueller’s book "Most of All They Taught Me Happiness":

I have ‘decided’ to love my life, to throw in my gauntlet for it, to believe in it, to find it exalting in every respect, at every moment, from the beginning to the end.

So easy to do today. I received a few kudos at work. The sun was shining on the snow-clad mountains. The crisp air, blue sky, and crunchy snow elated me.

Selling Out?

2006-11-23T10:57:00.000-08:00

"Buy Nothing Day" on Friday. Unfortunately that's the day I'm going to Chilliwack to see a theatre production. I've purchased the tickets in advance so that's not the issue. The dilemna is that if I'm going to Chilliwack anyway, I need to make the trip a shopping time as well. This is to cut down on fossil fuel consumption that an extra trip would cause. I'm going to Value Village, so I'm not consuming new items. This has to count for something. In fact, I took the ecological footprint test in the Sun paper last weekend and one does get credit for buying used rather than new clothing. Oh and I'm buying power smart light bulbs for our Holly Days theme basket which is all about GREEN and all about raising money for food hampers at Christmas. Oh and yesterday was a buy nothing day for me.
Man, it's tough keeping my conscience appeased in this age, but I'm working at it.

Damned if I Do, Damned if I Don't

2006-11-11T10:01:00.000-08:00

I don't wear a poppy. I never have. It is my small protest against celebrating war. That's what Remembrance Day is to me. It doesnt't matter how it's presented, how the speeches are sometimes about peace. There is a romantic flavour to the ceremony, men and women in uniform, marching, guns, the solemnness, the respectfullness. The remembering glorifies war. "Lest we forget", are you kidding me. In all the years that we've taken this day to "remember", has it decreased conflict in any way.

I say, let's have events of peace. Let's celebrate life, the good things, the helping, the learning, the growing, the unity in the diversity. Let's fight disease more, let's fight poverty, let's fight inequality in a conflict-less, meaningful way.

Now I'm off to the Remembrance Day service in our small town because my daughter is in the high school band and the band is part of the processional. Every year that I do this, I am torn between my convictions and the need to support my daughter. I guess I don't have it in me to stand up and fight.

Getting out

2006-11-06T21:03:00.000-08:00

Imagine being a caterpillar trying to crawl out of its coccoon before it's a butterfly. Imagine being a baby, pushing out of the womb. Imagine jumping from a plane, going through a door, coming out of a tunnel, digging out of a landslide, squeezing through a crack in the wall. Imagine climbing out of a deep sleep, swimming to the surface, becoming untied, springing from a cage. Imagine running from the dark interior into the outside. Imagine rising from the dead.

I do this every day, all day, in one way or another.

Versions of Life

2006-10-25T09:24:00.000-07:00

"I'm asking you, of all possible versions of your life, why have you chosen this one?"
~Oliver in The Myth of You and Me by Leah Stewart

I'm telling you, it all just seemed to happen. It didn't seem like I chose anything. I'm not saying that I'm a victim of my own life. I'm saying that; my life seems to flow in a positive way, towards most of what I need and want.

The Myth of You and Me

2006-10-22T21:00:00.000-07:00

"I watched as my best friend abandoned me. I felt what it was to be negated in that way, and I understood that if hatred can negate us, love can create us, and when we lose it we don't know who we are."
~Cameron in The Myth of You and Me by Leah Stewart

We met in Sunday School when our family moved to Vancouver. I was 7 years old. We didn't become close friends until we were 11. I'm not sure why. We attended different schools, so at first we only saw each other at church on Sundays and Wednesday nights for Girls' Club. We were best friends.

We have been through so much together since then: family illnesses, baptisms, first boyfriends, parent/teen misunderstandings, dating the guy she liked (I didn't know she liked him that much), pranking at summer camp, bible school, engagements, weddings, being youth leaders, having babies, miscarriages, guardians for each others children...

I remember being in a bible study group years ago, trying, with difficulty, to explain my thoughts on a particular doctrine or spiritual discipline and wishing she were there because she would understand me completely. She was with me when so much of my spirituality was developing.

Since then, she has kept on the high road, what I consider fanaticism, (some would call main stream Christianity). Our religious beliefs are so far apart now that I don't know if we could ever be close again. We are estranged. So much of our connection in the past had to do with our deep religious beliefs and our straight-laced code of ethics, I think. Our love for each other was couched in our love for the Lord. I have slowly walked away from main stream Christianity, (not without bouts of identity crisis), and our relationship couldn't handle the strain. Possibly the reason we couldn't hold on to each other is because of our honesty. I can't do Christianity her way and she believes it's the only way. She goes to foreign countries to proselytize and I can't get past the arrogance that conveys, nor the damage that proselytizing has done historically to many peoples.

I miss her; my best friend of the past. I miss the part about 'changing the world, being different, standing up for what is right, advocating for those who are marginalized', together. What if I called her up and we went for fair trade hot chocolate and discussed our "ethical addictions". It could be the start of a better world, or at the very least, a better me and a better she.

The Black Prince

2006-10-20T22:09:00.000-07:00

"We ignore what we are doing until it is too late to alter it. We never allow ourselves quite to focus upon moments of decision; and these are often in fact hard to find even if we are searching for them. We allow the vague pleasure-seeking annoyance-avoiding tide of our being to hurry us onward until the moment when we announce that we can no other..."
"How human responsibility is possible at all could well puzzle an extra-galactic student of this weird method of proceeding through time."...
"...in most cases the rag-bag of consciousness is only unified by the experience of great art or of intense love..."
~Bradley Pearson in Iris Murdoch's novel- The Black Prince.

It's a rather cynical way to look at humans. Although, there is this thread of hope with the part about "great art" and "intense love"

"Pleasure-seeking", "annoyance-avoiding"; is this what motivates us? Is this all there is to it? As a whole, is humankind this self-centred? If we were completely honest with ourselves, would we be able to come up with altruistic motives for anything that we do?

I'm on this pleasure-seeking track right now, but I wouldn't say it was vague. It is with intention. I have a few friends and family members who have cancer. My own mortality is constantly staring me in the face. Living in the beautiful moments and seeking fun, living intensely is what I'm all about these days. When things aren't fun, when things are irritating, I want to avoid them with all my might. There is nothing vague about it. Someone said to me that since my head injury, I have become more self-centered. So be it. I will be self-centered responsibly, with intensity and integrity.

Rules, Rules, Rules

2006-09-19T11:21:00.000-07:00

I'm a rule person. I always have been. But I don't like it. I want to be able to bend, and sometimes snap the rules. I have a love/hate relationship with rules. There is always a tension within me.
I think keeping the rules is an indication of respect; respect for oneself, others, possibly establishment. Though inside, I have a tendency to be anti establishment. While obeying all the rules, I wonder what the purposes of the rules are. And then what are my reasons for following the rules. Is it about appearances? What will people think of me?
Maybe it is all about image. I know that I want people to know that I'm law abiding, respectful, trustworthy, but that I still mark my own trail. I want to be interesting. I want life to be interesting. Sometime I would like something interesting to happen to me. Can it, when I follow all the rules, all the time.

Narcissism

2006-09-12T11:40:00.000-07:00

"So I hang on to my ego and simply hope that so long as we do a good deed, we can pretty well skip our motive."
~ From the novel: The Education of Oscar Fairfax by Louis Achincloss

So is he saying the means justifies the beginning and the end? I'm assuming the "good deed" is the means.

I know I've written on this topic before, recently in fact. Does it matter if we give to make us feel good, to make us feel like good people?

If everyone did good deeds (no matter what the motives) everyday, all day, all month, all year, would it make this world a better place?

Of course, doing a good deed for one person, one group, one country, may be detrimental to some other group.

I think I just have to go with my conscience on this. My conscience is pretty sharp; I have the stab marks to prove it. But then, that's just my ego speaking.

Brick by Brick

2006-09-11T21:24:00.000-07:00

"Destruction before creation."
~Joseph Campbell

Just over a year ago, we bought a hundred year old house in Yale. It needs major renovations which may take us 2 to 3 years.

For the last two weekends I've been working on dismantling the chimney and fire place one brick at a time. We hope to use the bricks somewhere later, possibly as the floor of a court yard.

While wielding my hammer and breathing in dust, my mind was wandering. At first I was thinking about stashed gold just waiting to be found behind the next brick. This is Yale after all. As I got closer to the floor in my demolition I realized that it was unlikely that I would be rich by the time I was finished this particular project.

Next, my thoughts went to the families before and how this fire place was the means to their winter warmth. I thought of the craftsmanship and how much work it must have been to build, how satisfying not only the completion but the whole process must have been. I wonder what thoughts went through the bricklayer's and/or stone mason's head as he was building.

The fact that we are trying to keep what we can of the original structure and reuse as much of the material as we can helps me in this destruction phase. "This Old House" is truly a reclaimation and restoration project and I'm loving it.
And as far as I can tell, the ghosts are appeased as well.

Clandestine

2006-09-09T08:46:00.000-07:00

Late last night we got a call from Dom asking for Ric. I took the message: "Meet Pedro at the west end of the bridge at 7:30 am. He'll have the rods for your project."

Ric tells me he can't make it so I have to go in his place. I park the vehicle, with easy access to the back lane. I'm a little hesitant, not exactly sure what the next step is. I haven't done this kind of work before. In the distance I can see two men walking toward me. Dom didn't mention there would be two of them.

I recognize Pedro but not the other guy. Pedro recognizes me but then asks me what I'm doing there. I assumed he would know. When I mention the phone call from Dom as discretely as I can while the other guy is listening in, Pedro says, "I was expecting Ric." I explain why Ric couldn't make it. Pedro's friend walks away.
Pedro walks with me to his truck, transfers the rods to my van and says, "You didn't get these from me, you bought them from a store." I agree and we go our separate ways

Mathematical Bench Press

2006-09-07T21:23:00.000-07:00

I experienced an amazing thing today. I sat in a Math class in which the instructor made the subject interesting. She obviously enjoys her chosen field and can get excited about how math has evolved. She also has a keen interest in the adult learners and the "aha" moments that occur. Today she taught about base 2,3,4 etc.
I was sitting in this class as a one on one support worker, (my new job as of yesterday). I was expecting it to be a bit dull, anticipating tomorrow when the schedule is recreation for 8 hours.
Now I'm looking forward to next week when perhaps our Math instructor will teach the tricks behind completing a **** Sudoku Puzzle. It bothers me that I struggle with these seemingly simple puzzles. If I compare it to weight training though, maybe I won't get as discouraged. I'm not lifting very much yet, but the more reps I do, the stronger I'll get, right?

Stones

2006-09-05T23:27:00.000-07:00

It has become a common feeling, I believe, as we have watched our heroes falling over the years, that our own small stone of activism, which might not seem to measure up to the rugged boulders of heroism we have so admired, is a paltry offering toward the building of an edifice of hope. Many who believe this choose to withhold their offerings out of shame. This is the tragedy of the world.

For we can do nothing substantial toward changing our course on the planet, a destructive one, without rousing ourselves, individual by individual, and bringing our small imperfect stones to the pile...

... Sometimes our stones are, to us, misshapen, odd. Their color seems off. Their singing … comical and strange. Presenting them, we perceive our own imperfect nakedness, but also, paradoxically, the wholeness, the rightness, of it. In the collective vulnerability of presence, we learn not to be afraid.

Alice Walker, from Anything We Love Can Be Saved with thanks to Steve Marston

I haven't added any stones to the pile lately, not with intention anyway. I'm sitting on them, resting, although they sure are uncomfortable. Soon, very soon, I'll quit being an inactive activist and continue piling stones.

Guilty as Charged

2006-08-25T22:17:00.000-07:00

I was reading a blog about how some young girls were selling cookies to raise money to give to some people in Lebanon, who have been displaced. Commendable. I’m not sure what their motivation was, but I think it was a belief that they could make a difference.

If I were to do it, it would be to assuage guilt. I would feel guilty that I don’t live in a war zone and they do. I would feel guilty that I always have more than enough to eat and they don’t. I have a safe and secure roof over my head and they don’t. I can walk the streets and fields without worrying about being shot or blown up. I would feel guilty that I have so much and give so little. So if I give to the people effected by the tsunamis, earthquakes, floods, fires and wars; a one time gift because it feels good; does it count, does it change things, does it make the world a better place, does it make a positive connection, cause a universal moral shift to the good.

I’m trying so hard to not feel guilt, to not be motivated by guilt. I rather not give at all if the exercise is to nullify my guilt. Of course then I have to deal with the overwhelming, paralyzing guilt of doing nothing.

When I live my life in a way that allows connections to be made with others, with Nature, with Spirit; then my giving, my living seems right.

Wordlessness

2006-08-17T08:53:00.000-07:00

YES, THE HIGHEST things are beyond words. That is probably why all art aspires to the condition of wordlessness. When literature works on you, it does so in silence, in your dreams, in your wordless moments. Good words enter you and become moods, become the quiet fabric of your being. Like music, like painting, literature too wants to transcend its primary condition and become something higher. Art wants to move into silence, into the emotional and spiritual conditions of the world. Statues become melodies, melodies become yearnings, yearnings become actions.

Ben Okri, from the book, A Way of Being Free

I have been wordless lately and not in a profound sense. Intimidated by the blank page more like. Even in speech, not using the words that would best describe how I'm feeling or what I've experienced. I want my words to move and shape and connect.

I've read some amazing writing. It fascinates me how an author can string some words together and move me to tears or laughter or thoughfulness or action. It's not in the words themselves but how and where they put them.

Years ago I read the Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne. It was one of the first serious pieces of literature that I had read, not counting the required high school English class book list. I remember the exact moment when I figured out who was the father of Hester Prynne's illegitimate child. It wasn't said in words, it was discovered in glances and undercurrents and subtle body movements. Nothing like a "who done it" genre. It was like I was in the room, a participant in the drama. It was an epiphany.
I wonder if it would hit me the same way now, if I was reading it for the first time.
Since then, I have read beautiful prose about life and love and humanity. I used to write down lines from books in my journal. "Good words that entered me and became moods, became the quiet fabric of my being"

Today, As I Am

2006-07-04T15:50:00.000-07:00

We do not see things as they are, we see things as we are.”
~Anais Nin

I acted out the “Gem Story”, twice today, once for a life skills group and once for a youth work experience group. The gist of the story is: a traveller is on a path that is getting narrower and more over grown. She gets worried that she is on the wrong path and decides that she will ask the next person whom she meets. It’s a long journey, but eventually she meets an old guy, meditating. She asks him if she is on the right path. He doesn’t give her a direct answer but tells her to gather all that she can before she crosses the river. Eventually she comes to a river and as silly as she thinks it is, she collects a handful of pebbles, these pebbles being the only things she could possibly take with her. She puts them in her pocket and forgets about them. In the middle of the night she wakes up because the rocks are digging in and she is about to throw them away, when the moonlight shines on them and reveals that they are precious gems. She wishes she would have gathered more.
Question posed to the groups: What pebbles have you gathered in the past that have turned out to be gems?
I couldn’t come up with any answer other than Typing 9 in high school. That seems a bit lame, I know. Either I do not see the gems for the pebbles or I have recognized the gems all along. I’m hoping for the latter, but no one is that good are they?

I believe that experiences, good and bad, make the person. I also believe that we create our own reality. I’m not sure how all this fits in with the quote or the story. I do know that I dislike when people quote from the Bible “All things work together for good for those who love the Lord, for those who are called according to His purpose.” A bit exclusive. I think all things work together for good: if you work at it; if you will it to be; if not too many things are conspiring against you; if you have a support system; if you know you are loved; if you make some good choices…

Two more quotes from Anais Nin:

“When you make a world tolerable for yourself, you make a world tolerable for others.”

“There is not one big cosmic meaning for all, there is only the meaning we each give to our life, an individual meaning, an individual plot, like an individual novel, a book for each person.”

Doldrums

2006-06-30T14:23:00.000-07:00

I’ve been called into work on my day off to read a proposal for a new contract and it’s not ready to read. So in the meantime, I’ve been perusing some books that have been on my shelf at work forever. One is on public speaking, one on career decisions, one called “ Stop Postponing the Rest of Your Life.”, another, “ Writing Your Life” I’ve been challenging my life skills group to set goals, make steps, identify barriers, break them down… I happened to mention a few of my own dreams. Acting, Writing. I want to incorporate these things into my daily life, moving towards actualizing these things that I say are so important to me. I’ve been talking for years about this. I’m tired of talking. I’m tired of writing about how I wish I could write.

I’ve come off a very busy month of travelling, celebrating and completing a project. I think that I’m in the post activity doldrums. I need some wind in my sails.
In the past, a bout like this was overcome by connecting with someone, or being a catalyst, or by communicating a new idea, or regular physical exercise, or starting something new, or having some time to myself.

I started running again and I’m loving it. I went and picked cherries at the Yale house this morning with a good friend. It’s the beginning of the long weekend and I have some plans. Bard on the Beach, not the least of these. So I’ll keep you posted, maybe.

No time

2006-05-31T22:19:00.000-07:00

We moved to a new place a month ago. Out of the last 31 nights, I've been away for 11. A trip to Williams Lake, then a trip to San Francisco, and then to Penticton. I'm only taking the time to write now because my blog was disabled. I'm not sure if that's because I haven't posted anything in 2 months. All my creative juices are going into a scrap book for my son for high school graduation. Commencements are on Sat. I better get a move on. Enough said.

Caged

2006-04-08T21:56:00.000-07:00

He rattled the cage
Pushed his face to the bars
Through his shoe
Stuck out his tongue
Yelled and stomped his feet
Poked with a stick
One last act
A pie in the face

Surprise!?
A roar
A snap
Some blood
Much pain
Still,
He's the one that got to limp away

Umbilical Cord to Independence

2006-04-04T23:02:00.000-07:00

A friend was describing her day at Locarno Beach and how she witnessed a toddler fall into a pond. As the mother was pulling her child out and stripping off his wet clothes and then wrapping him in warmth and love, she was saying, “I was afraid of that”.

The incident reminded me of the time our daughter, at the age of 2 or 3, fell into one of the ponds at Peace Arch Park. Her hair was floating to the surface and she was making no effort to raise her head above the water or swim to shore. I pulled her up by her pony tail and then wrapped her in my jacket, hiding my tears as I held her close. It was all over in a matter of seconds although it seemed like forever. I was afraid that she would be terrified of water after this. Most likely I made a joke about how it was a little too early in the season to be swimming, and next time she should put on her bathing suit first.

This flash back led me to others:

Another daughter, at the age of 2 ½, fell off some playground equipment and broke her collar bone, while we all stood around and watched her hit the ground. I wasn’t close enough or fast enough to catch her. Again, time slowed and my body seemed to move in slow motion as I tried to reach for her.

Our son, at the age of 18 months, wandered into the kitchen while I was washing the floor and fell backwards into the basin. The water severely burned his back, arms and legs. His diaper saved his genitals. He had a 3 day stay in the hospital, hooked up to an IV, having his dressings changed regularly. I didn’t need the nurse’s lecture to make me feel like a negligent mother. She needn’t have told me that I should have checked the water temperature before letting my baby anywhere near the kitchen where I was working. She didn't need to say that I shouldn’t have been trying to clean up while my 3 children (ages 4, 3 and 1 ½ ) were up and about.

Our youngest daughter is the “stitch queen”. In her toddler years, she was bitten by a dog in the face, hit in the forehead by a rock thrown by her brother, fell backwards off a chair banging her head on a metal piece and lastly, almost severed her uvula, (the dangly thing at the back of the throat), while running and then falling with a stick in her mouth. I’ve lost count of how many stitches she has had.

These are just a few examples of when I took my eyes off our kids for a minute, with disastrous consequences. I will never forget the times that I failed to rescue them before injuries occurred. Those years of imminent physical danger are past. Our 4 beautiful children are all grown up now. However, in some ways these years are more difficult to parent through. Now most of their peril is emotional, spiritual, or mental.
It doesn’t always work to hug and kiss the hurt away. I have to let them find their own ways through, being supportive but not interfering, loving but not smothering. If I’ve done my job right, my kids have the tools to embrace, or move through, or rise above the pain, or disappointment, or danger of everyday life, whichever way they see fit, in whatever way works for them.

Possession

2006-03-22T14:46:00.000-08:00

Complete possession is proved only by giving. All you are unable to give possesses you.~Andre Gide

Have you ever noticed how many mini storage places there are and how many new ones are being built? Don't people know that if they need to rent a separate space for their possessions, it means they have too much? Is it a disease? Is it a genetic flaw? Is is a societal distinction? Or is it an adaptational quirk of our species that doesn't make evolutionary sense. Purge I say, purge! If you haven't used it in a year, it's probably worthless to you or worse; it's costing you money to keep it locked up, safe from all those who don't have enough.

A Fine Balance

2006-03-08T15:40:00.000-08:00

I love quotes. I have them pinned to my bulletin board at work. I write them down as I’m reading a novel, essay, or calendar. I’m a collector. My quotes tend to be about “you can do it” “you create your own reality”, the beauty of nature, spirituality, the interconnectedness of all life forms.

My 20 year old daughter is a collector as well, but her collection looks very different than mine. Her quote collection is made up of pithy comments, satire, cynicism, anti-establishment slogans. I love it when she puts one up on our white board, behind our phone table. She does it inconspicuously, sometimes we don’t notice until after she leaves. I love the shock value that some of her quotes create.

I think my quote collection content has something to do with my profession. I teach life skills and employment skills to people with multiple barriers. I’m all about possibilities, behaviours, thoughts, and feelings, “be the change you want to see in the world”.

My daughter observes, analyzes, and names things. She’s not sure what she wants from life yet. She stands tall and looks on and inward. She’s brave in trying new things. She rages against injustice with a calm visage. She scorns the accumulation of possessions.
She attracts “fuck it’ sentiments like moths to light. She hates clichés.

I would imagine that my daughter thinks my quote collection is a bit hokey and Polly Anna-esque. But I think between the two, they create a fine balance.

Ferry fairies

2006-03-06T13:25:00.000-08:00

We were racing to catch the 3:00 sailing. We made it through the gate, waiting in Lane 7, turned off the ignition. Our line started moving so I turned the key and nothing happened. I quickly pulled out the jumper cables and asked the guy in Lane 8 (who wasn't making the 3:00 ferry anyway) if he could give me a boost. He oblidged with no positive results. We watched as the ferry left the terminal.
Very soon, I had a crowd around dispensing advice, one person telling me the battery's plates were flaking so no charge could be transferred, one woman telling me it's the corrosion causing the problem. But one man came forward with solutions. He started to work off the corrosion with a pocket knife, vice grip, paper towels and a wrench. After he worked on it for awhile, we tried to jump start the van again. No luck. Captain Ralph said, " we mariners believe we can get anything working again." He kept at it.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to get a new battery on a Sunday afternoon, sitting immobile, at a ferry dock. I asked one of the land crew if he knew where I could buy a battery and he said Lordco in Sidney. Just as he said it, he glanced over to the side and spotted a Lordco car. He ran over and asked the driver if she could help me. She said she just had to deliver a battery to a customer up ahead in the line-up and then she would come take my order. She zipped over and got the vehicle information that she needed and phoned in our order with my VISA number. At this point I'm thinking that maybe we'll catch the 5:00. Our Lordco super hero takes off and says she'll be back in 10 min.

Captain Ralph continues to work on the battery. We try jumping it again, again it fails. The 4:00 ferry is now being loaded and the Captain's lane is moving. He's still trying to start my van. One last effort and the engine turns over. We pull off the cables, quickly shove his tools at him, with many thanks and an exchange of business cards. I continue to keep the revs up as we wait for the new battery to arrive. Our Lordco heroine arrives, I sign for the purchase, grab the battery, uttering thanks all over the place and try to sneak in at the end of the line, without stalling the vehicle. In all the rush, I forgot to tip her.

We made the 4:00 sailing. We changed the battery while crossing the Strait, with the help of 2 fine young BC Ferries crew members.

Today I sent out "thank you" letters in all directions.

Critical Mass

2006-03-02T18:34:00.000-08:00

"Maybe we need new stories, new terms and conditions that are relevant to the love of land...We need to reach a hand back through time and a hand forward, stand at the zero point of creation to be certain that we do not create the absence of life, of any species, no matter how inconsequential it might appear to be."
~Linda Hogan
Heart of the Land.

I've been thinking environmentally and it scares me. I read in McLeans about "When the Oil Runs Out" (Feb 13) and I feel impotent. " I take it as a given that we have already overshot earth's long-term carrying capacity for humans-and have drawn down essential resources-to such an extent that some sort of societal collapse is now inevitable," Heinberg. I read books like Margaret Atwood's "Oryx and Crake" and I wonder what kind of world my grandchildren will live in.

What can I do? I reduce, reuse, recycle. I try not to use my fossil -fuel burning vehicle when it is unnecessary. We only recently bought a second vehicle (5 drivers in the family) I buy locally. I commune with the trees and worhip the ground I walk on. I practice no-trace camping. It's not enough. I have such a small area of influence. The ripples of my life, my thoughts, my being are small and few. My ability to promote sustainable living is limited. I want to save the world and I can't.

I've spoken of my frustration, my despair, among friends. One such friend, an optimist, responds with this: "It's about critical mass, ("the minimum quantity of fissionable material required in a reactor to produce or maintain a chain reaction"- I looked it up in the dictionary after our discussion just to make sure what I thought he was saying was what he really was saying.). So I guess that's what I'm doing. And that's what you're doing too. Critical mass is what will save us; critical mass and new stories, new terms, and holding hands to the past and the future, together.

Dancing

2006-02-26T11:52:00.000-08:00

"Opportunity dances with those who are already on the dance floor."
~H. Jackson Brown
I love dancing. It took years for me to be able to dance in public, years to discard my inhibitions, years for me to be free. As I look over my shoulder, I see a trail of possessions, ideas, beliefs, behaviours, that I've shed in order to dance with abandon. Dancing is everything to me. My dancing is not always pretty, my steps not always technically sound, the choreography sometimes shaky, sometimes I can't keep time to the beat, but I'm on the dance floor and that's what matters.