I’ve been busy thinking over the past few weeks…and sorely neglecting my writing as I immerse myself in Christmas decorating, baking, shopping, wrapping, card writing and the like. It seems that this time of year gets busier and busier every year. I had mentioned to a colleague that it seemed much quieter when I was a kid, only realizing as I said it that as an adult, much more responsibility lies in making the season enjoyable for my kids. So as they put up decorations in their room and watch Christmas specials on television, I am frantically zipping around my kitchen making sure I have my promised eggnog bread ready for the work potluck lunch, and that my cards have been mailed out so they reach their intended recipients on time. I’m checking my list and coming to recognize that I will have inevitably missed something/someone along the way.
But this Christmas will be different from all the others. This will be the first “Christmas Day” in 43 years that I will be spending alone. It comes with having to schedule children between two homes and taking turns with major holidays. (This year is his.) But there is a light in all this madness, and it isn’t the light from the Christmas tree (which I just now realized I have forgotten to water!). In all the madness and scrambling that usually happens Christmas morning, I will be able to leisurely rise and make the required pot of coffee, toast a bagel, put on some classic Christmas music and just relax in my fuzzy white bathrobe. It will be a morning free of hassle and disturbances, of rushing to acting lessons, or doing last minute grocery shopping. It will be a morning of quiet reflection. Of remembering Christmases past, and looking forward to those to come. In an odd sense I am thankful that I will have this time to myself.
That said, there are places I would rather be and special people I would rather be spending it with. Since it is not possible at this time, I will be making the best of it. Time with family will come the following weekend when we get together to celebrate on the 29th. Then someone who is very special arrives the following week. This time of year is about family and friends and being thankful for their presence in your life however they may have touched you. I am privileged to have been touched by many people over the past year. I have had the support and advice of family and friends, which has aided in getting me to this point. I have reconnected with faces not seen for years, and continued to bond with those who have always been here. . So in a sense, I will not be alone this Christmas, because Christmas to me is wherever you are, and who you are with, and when you decide to recognize it. In a sense, I have been recognizing it all year long. Thank you everyone. For just being.
Thursday, 20 December 2007
Tuesday, 20 November 2007
Dirty Laundry
There are municipalities in this country which have restrictive covenants against clotheslines on one's property. They were originally instituted in a time when energy conservation was not one of the prevailing issues faced by society and property esthetics were deemed as more important. Today, when we are confronted with rising electricity and oil costs, it just makes sense to cut back on energy use where we can.
Early in my (now dissolved) marriage I expressed my wish to erect a clothesline the backyard of the home we had recently purchased. This simple request was met with disdain and derision and I was literally shocked into silence. When I tried to argue my case it was like my words were hitting a brick wall. Although I was never given a concrete reason, I have since been lead to believe that the clothesline symbolized poverty and lower class levels. Who would have thought a simple and cost effective method of drying one's clothes could cause such a great debate? Curious, I posed a question to some friends, worded as unbiased as I could, "Do you/would you use a clothes line to dry your clothes? Why/why not?"
I won't call my results scientific by any means, but they were oddly telling. Of the roughly 25 people I polled, only 3 women answered my call compared with 7 men… All three women and 5 of the men would be overwhelmingly in favour of using a clothesline, if they weren't already. The reasons varied, but themes included wanting to conserve energy, liking the smell of line-hung clothing and the invoking of childhood memories.
A simple internet search reveals that this subject runs much deeper than most people would think. Photographers have captured the beauty of clotheslines in their shadow, shape and form and there are books dedicated to various knots used to secure the cords between two trees/poles/buildings. There are also "green" websites devoted to the act of hang drying clothes where the forums go on for pages with all opinions and reasons for (or against), the simple line. It's almost as if there is a secret clothesline society.
For myself there is a poignant romanticism associated with them. They extol life at its simplest denominator. The sound of sheets and towels fluttering, the silhouettes they cast upon the green grass below or the buildings between which they hang, and most prominent, the fresh smells they capture and bring inside to be experienced for days to come. There is just a homey satisfaction to the unpretentious act of hanging clothes out to dry.
Although the closest I can come today is a wooden drying rack in my apartment spare room, I can guarantee that the next home I buy will have a clothesline in the back yard. (I guess that brings the women total up to 4.)
Monday, 5 November 2007
Pure Passion
Pure passion is a part of many of us. We have things in our lives that we are avid about. And some of us have more than just one. A high school friend I have just recently reconnected with sparked the idea for this post.
We had not seen each other for probably close to 25 years. At a high school reunion we spoke briefly and outlined, in a few short sentences, what we had done during that time. It is easy to discover someone’s passion when you have only a few short minutes to compress your life. People tend to pick out the best of the best when looking to quickly describe their life. More often than not, a person’s passions will be first and foremost. While this particular friend was telling me what he had been doing since we last parted a recurring theme emerged in his descriptions. His wife and children were the first thing he mentioned, then next, not surprisingly, wasn’t his job (I still don’t know what he does) but his chosen sport, windsurfing. I knew then, when I saw the spark in his eye, that this was something about which he felt quite strong. And he could see that I was receptive to hearing more, so he elaborated and enthusiastically answered my questions on the subject.
It is curious to listen to someone speak about something that holds so much importance to them. And even more intriguing to be able to relate to them and share in their enthusiasm, even if you don’t understand anything about it. Because if you have a passion of your own, you already know the feeling and can apply it to something that is familiar to you.
He in turn has commented to me about my personal aspirations, running, but more to the point, running the Boston Marathon in 2008. Because we both understand, there is very little that actually needs to be said. It’s like we just know. I find it interesting that there are some people whom I barely know who can understand my passion more than someone who spent over 12 years of their life with me. But it just tells me that in order to understand passion, you must own it. And to own it you must feel it. Only then can it make you become truly alive.
We had not seen each other for probably close to 25 years. At a high school reunion we spoke briefly and outlined, in a few short sentences, what we had done during that time. It is easy to discover someone’s passion when you have only a few short minutes to compress your life. People tend to pick out the best of the best when looking to quickly describe their life. More often than not, a person’s passions will be first and foremost. While this particular friend was telling me what he had been doing since we last parted a recurring theme emerged in his descriptions. His wife and children were the first thing he mentioned, then next, not surprisingly, wasn’t his job (I still don’t know what he does) but his chosen sport, windsurfing. I knew then, when I saw the spark in his eye, that this was something about which he felt quite strong. And he could see that I was receptive to hearing more, so he elaborated and enthusiastically answered my questions on the subject.
It is curious to listen to someone speak about something that holds so much importance to them. And even more intriguing to be able to relate to them and share in their enthusiasm, even if you don’t understand anything about it. Because if you have a passion of your own, you already know the feeling and can apply it to something that is familiar to you.
He in turn has commented to me about my personal aspirations, running, but more to the point, running the Boston Marathon in 2008. Because we both understand, there is very little that actually needs to be said. It’s like we just know. I find it interesting that there are some people whom I barely know who can understand my passion more than someone who spent over 12 years of their life with me. But it just tells me that in order to understand passion, you must own it. And to own it you must feel it. Only then can it make you become truly alive.
Wednesday, 24 October 2007
In all seriousness…no really…
It has come to my attention that my posts of late are on the way-too-serious side…I’ve been reflecting so deeply to the point that I am starting to gasp for air and it takes too long for me to surface these days…I think I may need to lighten up and perhaps reflect on the lighter side of my life.
My sister-in-law and I trade positive affirmations on a daily basis…These “affirmations” are intended to put a cheerful swing on our activities of the last 24 hours as well as look optimistically ahead to what may be in store for us for that day. In the last year I must admit we have taken positive to a whole new level…
Do you remember when you were in school and you were about to write an exam and muttered under your breath, “I’m going to fail this test.” The teacher hears you and tells you to think positively, so then you mutter, “I am POSITIVE I’m going to fail this test.” That is the twist we have adopted with our routine updates. We are at the point where we now search for the most depressing part of our day to contort into a positively negative twist.
For example…she was having a rushed morning a couple of weeks ago so didn’t have a lot of time to style her hair the way she normally does. This is part of her affirmation list from that day:
- I did my hair this morning…it isn’t drying naturally
- People in the office aren’t asking…did you get a perm?
- Yes, I got a perm
It makes me smile and starts the day off on a light note…
It has also come to the point where we will try to out-affirm each other with the most outlandish statements we can muster up, not an easy thing to do first thing in the morning with barely a cup of coffee in our bloodstream. I find it gets my creativity kick-started and often I end up jotting down a few lines which sometimes end up as part of a blog topic. Another example shows how I turned my immense discomfort from a 5 day scorching heat wave this summer into a positive experience which I blogged about back in July (see “Heat”)
- I slept comfortably the entire night.
- It was cool and lovely in my apartment when I got home last night.
- It was cool and lovely in my apartment when I left for work this morning.
- I am just reveling in this weather.
- It is absolutely gorgeous!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
- I did not come to work strictly for the air-conditioning.
And then there are the running affirmations…this sport which we both do and love and hate at the same time has been the source of many laugh-out-loud mornings…this from my sister-in-law four weeks after blackening her toenail while running the Manitoba Marathon:
- I didn’t pull off my toenail last night.
- It hurt.
- I have a new toenail under it.
- It doesn’t hurt now.
- I can wear open-toe shoes.
And mine after a particularly tough, but satisfying, hill workout:
- Hills are my friend.
- I didn’t nearly lose a lung after my 7th repeat.
- My muscles weren’t screaming after I was done.
- I wanted to run at least 5 more.
And thus begins each day…
I think we need to inject humour into our daily lives. What manner that humour comes to us is unique to each individual. I have had a year of seriousness that I have tried to punctuate with small clips of joy. This is one way for me to start my workday on a high note.
- I hope none of you ever get this opportunity.
:)
Friday, 19 October 2007
Doing Something Right…
There are times in this mother’s life when I realize that things I’ve done, the morals and values that reside within me and the way I conduct my life, have silently and stealthily transferred to my children and all I can do is smile and beam with pride.
I had taken my two boys shopping for Halloween costumes at Walmart and while we were browsing the extensive selection of costumes and other assorted items, my youngest, who had gone over one aisle to look for props, called to me, “Mom, look at this!” Thinking he had found a particularly gory knife, or scary mask I glanced up to see him holding a small black change purse. I figured he’d found something to hold his allowance. When he shook it, it jingled and he handed it to me telling me to open it. Considering where we were in the store, I became suspicious and thought that it was a gag purse and prepared myself for something to pop out. I slowly pried the clasp apart and tentatively gazed inside, surprised to find close to $10 worth of loonies and twoonies. I looked at my son and immediately he said that we had to take it to the front because someone must have lost it. I told him we could do it on our way out of the store…but when the time came to check out we had both forgotten about it – he had put it in his pants pocket and I was mentally calculating how much our purchase would come to. We got in the car and started the drive home. Several blocks away he exclaimed from the back seat in a somewhat panicked voice, “Mom! We have to go back to Walmart RIGHT NOW!” Again, preoccupied, I figured he had forgotten an integral part of his costume…I was ready to tell him we’d go back another day when he revealed he still had the purse in his pocket.
So I turned the car around and headed back to the store. Back in the parking lot, I dropped him at the doors and went to park the car, telling him I’d meet him inside. When I got there he was explaining the situation to a somewhat preoccupied woman at the customer service desk. Not once breaking a smile, or even thanking him, she took the purse from him and told him she would put it in the office. And that was that. I stood there with him momentarily, waiting for her to perhaps thank him for his honesty, or something. But she was already looking to the next person in line.
Missing these subtleties, my son grabbed my hand and we walked back to the car, him chattering away wondering if the little girl (for he had convinced himself it belonged to a girl) would come back looking for it. He seemed quite proud of his actions and I’d wished he’d been more rewarded for his kindness…not monetarily, but by some sort of acknowledgement. So I did the only thing I knew and gave him a hug and told him how proud I was of him.
Not once in this entire encounter did he even hint at wanting to keep the money. Not once was there any question of not returning this purse. And I wondered how many other 9 year olds, let alone how many adults, would have done the same thing…the purse was small and barely noticeable, and the contents were almost dismissible in the entire scheme of things. But this little boy was insistent he do the right thing. And by him doing the right thing, I was rewarded knowing that in the way I have conducted myself around my children has evidently worn off. So in a sense, I am also doing the right thing…it feels pretty good.
I had taken my two boys shopping for Halloween costumes at Walmart and while we were browsing the extensive selection of costumes and other assorted items, my youngest, who had gone over one aisle to look for props, called to me, “Mom, look at this!” Thinking he had found a particularly gory knife, or scary mask I glanced up to see him holding a small black change purse. I figured he’d found something to hold his allowance. When he shook it, it jingled and he handed it to me telling me to open it. Considering where we were in the store, I became suspicious and thought that it was a gag purse and prepared myself for something to pop out. I slowly pried the clasp apart and tentatively gazed inside, surprised to find close to $10 worth of loonies and twoonies. I looked at my son and immediately he said that we had to take it to the front because someone must have lost it. I told him we could do it on our way out of the store…but when the time came to check out we had both forgotten about it – he had put it in his pants pocket and I was mentally calculating how much our purchase would come to. We got in the car and started the drive home. Several blocks away he exclaimed from the back seat in a somewhat panicked voice, “Mom! We have to go back to Walmart RIGHT NOW!” Again, preoccupied, I figured he had forgotten an integral part of his costume…I was ready to tell him we’d go back another day when he revealed he still had the purse in his pocket.
So I turned the car around and headed back to the store. Back in the parking lot, I dropped him at the doors and went to park the car, telling him I’d meet him inside. When I got there he was explaining the situation to a somewhat preoccupied woman at the customer service desk. Not once breaking a smile, or even thanking him, she took the purse from him and told him she would put it in the office. And that was that. I stood there with him momentarily, waiting for her to perhaps thank him for his honesty, or something. But she was already looking to the next person in line.
Missing these subtleties, my son grabbed my hand and we walked back to the car, him chattering away wondering if the little girl (for he had convinced himself it belonged to a girl) would come back looking for it. He seemed quite proud of his actions and I’d wished he’d been more rewarded for his kindness…not monetarily, but by some sort of acknowledgement. So I did the only thing I knew and gave him a hug and told him how proud I was of him.
Not once in this entire encounter did he even hint at wanting to keep the money. Not once was there any question of not returning this purse. And I wondered how many other 9 year olds, let alone how many adults, would have done the same thing…the purse was small and barely noticeable, and the contents were almost dismissible in the entire scheme of things. But this little boy was insistent he do the right thing. And by him doing the right thing, I was rewarded knowing that in the way I have conducted myself around my children has evidently worn off. So in a sense, I am also doing the right thing…it feels pretty good.
Thursday, 4 October 2007
On the Periphery
I have never truly felt like I belonged. For as long as I can remember, I have always been conscious of the fact that I tend to hover around the periphery of the social groups to which I belong. Be it work, or school, or extracurricular and to some extent even my own family (in larger gatherings), I have never felt completely secure.
To others who know me, this may sound absolutely and utterly unfounded, but to me, who is experiencing my own life in the first person, the gap exists, and it is very real. There have been rare moments where I do feel the intense unconditional acceptance, and I nearly buckle at the knees because the feeling is overwhelming.
But for now, I stand back, and begin to question why I feel this way:
The fact that it is present in all circles in my life tells me that it is not something that is unique to a specific group. This also reveals to me that this has everything to do with me, and nothing to do with other people, or group dynamics. I am obviously, unintentially, the catalyst.
I think who we are deep inside, and who we present to the outer world are very different people, and we tend to try to bury the characteristics we don’t want to display. But every now and then, the soil of our existence erodes, and our true selves sneak back up for air. It is this self that may be responsible for my feelings of marginality.
I can trace this feeling back to grade school. I was never one of the popular kids, yet also never on the loner end of the spectrum either. Always hovering somewhere between the two. I was never athletic, and never had any interest to be, so was usually chosen last for team sports in gym, a stigma that stings to this day. Knowing that you weren’t wanted by either side, but had to be settled upon eventually, can be a very demeaning feeling, especially to a 10 year old.
You never really lose, or shed the core of who you’ve always been. Formerly obese people, who have kept weight off for years, tell me that they still see the overweight person they once were. It never really goes away. In a sense, it is part of who we were, are and will be in the future, even if it is hidden. So it sticks to us, an adhesive attribute, not easily flung off with a flick of the wrist. And we must resign ourselves to accept this, for we cannot reject parts of who we are and retain others. The entire package is ours for life – not to be divided as suits our mood.
Ultimately, no matter how confident and self-assured I may appear outwardly, I am still deathly afraid of rejection or ridicule, at any level. And this may be why I am reluctant to place myself unsolicited into the middle of many social situations. My comfort level has never been there. So I spend my time lingering just outside, contributing when I feel it’s safe, and occasionally venturing into that zone of discomfort, pushing my internal envelope, even though it terrifies me. But the terror belongs to me, and I can harness it. I guess that’s the first step. And at least I have taken it.
To others who know me, this may sound absolutely and utterly unfounded, but to me, who is experiencing my own life in the first person, the gap exists, and it is very real. There have been rare moments where I do feel the intense unconditional acceptance, and I nearly buckle at the knees because the feeling is overwhelming.
But for now, I stand back, and begin to question why I feel this way:
The fact that it is present in all circles in my life tells me that it is not something that is unique to a specific group. This also reveals to me that this has everything to do with me, and nothing to do with other people, or group dynamics. I am obviously, unintentially, the catalyst.
I think who we are deep inside, and who we present to the outer world are very different people, and we tend to try to bury the characteristics we don’t want to display. But every now and then, the soil of our existence erodes, and our true selves sneak back up for air. It is this self that may be responsible for my feelings of marginality.
I can trace this feeling back to grade school. I was never one of the popular kids, yet also never on the loner end of the spectrum either. Always hovering somewhere between the two. I was never athletic, and never had any interest to be, so was usually chosen last for team sports in gym, a stigma that stings to this day. Knowing that you weren’t wanted by either side, but had to be settled upon eventually, can be a very demeaning feeling, especially to a 10 year old.
You never really lose, or shed the core of who you’ve always been. Formerly obese people, who have kept weight off for years, tell me that they still see the overweight person they once were. It never really goes away. In a sense, it is part of who we were, are and will be in the future, even if it is hidden. So it sticks to us, an adhesive attribute, not easily flung off with a flick of the wrist. And we must resign ourselves to accept this, for we cannot reject parts of who we are and retain others. The entire package is ours for life – not to be divided as suits our mood.
Ultimately, no matter how confident and self-assured I may appear outwardly, I am still deathly afraid of rejection or ridicule, at any level. And this may be why I am reluctant to place myself unsolicited into the middle of many social situations. My comfort level has never been there. So I spend my time lingering just outside, contributing when I feel it’s safe, and occasionally venturing into that zone of discomfort, pushing my internal envelope, even though it terrifies me. But the terror belongs to me, and I can harness it. I guess that’s the first step. And at least I have taken it.
Monday, 1 October 2007
A Defining Moment
I have recently been told that I am a completely different person than I used to be. And though I know it pained the bearer of this news, and the method in which it was delivered was far from tactful and diplomatic, it gave me a small sense of satisfaction, because it reinforced my view of who I am, and who I have become.
I have been on a lifelong search for contentment in self. I believe this search is ongoing, and we constantly reinvent and renew who we are over the years.
Seven years ago, I found a new niche: in running. It has evolved from the occasional 2-mile, barely exerting myself, run every couple of days, to the extreme of logging up to 40 miles a week training for marathons.
I know there are people in my social circle who strive to understand this passion I have embraced, and regardless, accept me for who I am, no matter what I do. Others have not been as understanding, and have questioned, criticized and disregarded its importance in my life.
This latter group is smaller, and I feel sorry for the limited understanding they have. This is why I have become more accepting and receptive to others’ choices and interests. To stay open, to try to see through other people’s eyes is an ongoing test, and I just hope that those people who don’t understand me will someday find it in themselves to try. Running has become one of my definitions, but it is not, nor ever will be my only one. I think that is what some other people cannot or will not distinguish. For this they are truly missing out.
Perhaps one day, they will see and feel what I do: the challenge in every steep hill I pass, the endless tranquility of a leaf covered trail, the sounds of my breath and the feel of my heart beating in my chest, the triumph of crossing the finish line of my first, and subsequent, marathon, the achievement of breaking a personal record on a training run, the beauty in a sweat soaked body bent over with exertion, the pleasure in the pain of exhausted muscles, the smell of new running shoes just out of the box and ready to run, the need to do it over and over again, because in the end it just feels good.
I know I have not stopped evolving, and I sincerely hope I don’t ever stop. I think it is essential to who I am as a person, and who I continue to become. And although I won’t force my decision onto anyone else, neither will I apologize for these choices, or the way in which I have opted to live my life. The clarity and simplicity in which I approach things now is refreshing and I don’t ever want to lose that. It is for this very reason that I won’t.
I have been on a lifelong search for contentment in self. I believe this search is ongoing, and we constantly reinvent and renew who we are over the years.
Seven years ago, I found a new niche: in running. It has evolved from the occasional 2-mile, barely exerting myself, run every couple of days, to the extreme of logging up to 40 miles a week training for marathons.
I know there are people in my social circle who strive to understand this passion I have embraced, and regardless, accept me for who I am, no matter what I do. Others have not been as understanding, and have questioned, criticized and disregarded its importance in my life.
This latter group is smaller, and I feel sorry for the limited understanding they have. This is why I have become more accepting and receptive to others’ choices and interests. To stay open, to try to see through other people’s eyes is an ongoing test, and I just hope that those people who don’t understand me will someday find it in themselves to try. Running has become one of my definitions, but it is not, nor ever will be my only one. I think that is what some other people cannot or will not distinguish. For this they are truly missing out.
Perhaps one day, they will see and feel what I do: the challenge in every steep hill I pass, the endless tranquility of a leaf covered trail, the sounds of my breath and the feel of my heart beating in my chest, the triumph of crossing the finish line of my first, and subsequent, marathon, the achievement of breaking a personal record on a training run, the beauty in a sweat soaked body bent over with exertion, the pleasure in the pain of exhausted muscles, the smell of new running shoes just out of the box and ready to run, the need to do it over and over again, because in the end it just feels good.
I know I have not stopped evolving, and I sincerely hope I don’t ever stop. I think it is essential to who I am as a person, and who I continue to become. And although I won’t force my decision onto anyone else, neither will I apologize for these choices, or the way in which I have opted to live my life. The clarity and simplicity in which I approach things now is refreshing and I don’t ever want to lose that. It is for this very reason that I won’t.
Thursday, 27 September 2007
Questioning that which cannot be questioned
There are things we experience that we cannot explain, and that, even if we could, others could never understand. Emotions take hold of us, turn us inside out, and spit us into a fumbling mess that only makes sense to one person.
My mess is also my bliss. The melding of two separate individuals into a single entity, for a brief moment in time, is completely irrational and unexplainable, and as I type this, I wonder why I am even bothering to try.
Maybe because I have been moved beyond words. That my heart has stood absolutely still. That my world has faded into the background. These moments are so few and so far between that it hurts to have them spoiled by exterior forces. So I block that out, and focus only on the now, because my now is so rare. And my moments are continually counting down.
There are scientific and biological explanations for what one feels, but when you are in the middle of the fray, it is difficult to put any distance between yourself, and what you are feeling, even if it is explained in the form of hormones and genes. Emotions cannot be measured by any logical or systematic method, simply because they are not logical or systematic.
And I still attempt to explain the unexplainable.
So I will concede failure. And with it, revel in what I feel, not knowing how long it will last, how strong it will stay, or how infallible it will remain. But it is inside me right here, right now. That is what I know. At the moment, it is all I want to know. I cannot change the past, I cannot influence the future, but I can be in the present. And I am.
I have explained nothing, but at the same time, I have explained everything.
My mess is also my bliss. The melding of two separate individuals into a single entity, for a brief moment in time, is completely irrational and unexplainable, and as I type this, I wonder why I am even bothering to try.
Maybe because I have been moved beyond words. That my heart has stood absolutely still. That my world has faded into the background. These moments are so few and so far between that it hurts to have them spoiled by exterior forces. So I block that out, and focus only on the now, because my now is so rare. And my moments are continually counting down.
There are scientific and biological explanations for what one feels, but when you are in the middle of the fray, it is difficult to put any distance between yourself, and what you are feeling, even if it is explained in the form of hormones and genes. Emotions cannot be measured by any logical or systematic method, simply because they are not logical or systematic.
And I still attempt to explain the unexplainable.
So I will concede failure. And with it, revel in what I feel, not knowing how long it will last, how strong it will stay, or how infallible it will remain. But it is inside me right here, right now. That is what I know. At the moment, it is all I want to know. I cannot change the past, I cannot influence the future, but I can be in the present. And I am.
I have explained nothing, but at the same time, I have explained everything.
Doing what I do…but not the best…
I am not a mind-reader…
I guess there are times when people just assume that I am. I am human. I make mistakes. I lose track of time. I become oblivious. More so when I am preoccupied. I think I’d be hard-pressed to find someone who doesn’t experience this once in a while. So I just have to hope that others file this information away, and understand that this is who I am…and who most people are or have been at one point or another. Sometimes I just need to be told what others are thinking and feeling. It is much easier that way than constantly guessing.
With so much going on in my life, my mind and, of late, my heart, I just cannot be everything to everyone. So I am not. And I don’t profess to be. I learned this a long time ago, and in the recent past it has been reiterated. So if people think I am selfish or uncaring, I cannot change that. The same way that I cannot change something that has already happened. So I must be content with mistakes I have made, learn from them and move on.
So I continue on this wonky path, knowing that somewhere along the way, and at many times, I will probably say or do the wrong thing, and not even know it. For this I apologize in advance. It’s all I can do.
I guess there are times when people just assume that I am. I am human. I make mistakes. I lose track of time. I become oblivious. More so when I am preoccupied. I think I’d be hard-pressed to find someone who doesn’t experience this once in a while. So I just have to hope that others file this information away, and understand that this is who I am…and who most people are or have been at one point or another. Sometimes I just need to be told what others are thinking and feeling. It is much easier that way than constantly guessing.
With so much going on in my life, my mind and, of late, my heart, I just cannot be everything to everyone. So I am not. And I don’t profess to be. I learned this a long time ago, and in the recent past it has been reiterated. So if people think I am selfish or uncaring, I cannot change that. The same way that I cannot change something that has already happened. So I must be content with mistakes I have made, learn from them and move on.
So I continue on this wonky path, knowing that somewhere along the way, and at many times, I will probably say or do the wrong thing, and not even know it. For this I apologize in advance. It’s all I can do.
Monday, 10 September 2007
Putting it all into Perspective
Why is it that death has it own macabre way of slapping us in the face and telling us to smarten up? And why do we continue to only pay attention for a scant few days before reverting back to our mundane, presupposed lives? Are we so stupid, or perhaps so self-absorbed, that we assume we are above these teachings?
If every person who vowed to change after being touched by death actually followed through we would have completely different dynamic on this earth. As memories fade, so do those good intentions. It’s not that we are blatantly ignoring these “best laid plans”, but despite death, life gets in the way.
That said, I don’t think this is necessarily a bad thing; one thing that is repeated over and over when one is faced with a passing is that “Life goes on”. Most certainly death would win us over if we completely stopped living and let the darkness we feel consume us, but it also wins if we continually ignore its messages.
So what is its message? It differs for each person. For one it may mean mending fences with estranged relatives. For another it means signing up for wind surfing lessons after countless summers of intending just that. And for still another it may mean to travel more.
Unfortunately, as much as I would like to, I just can’t drop everything to travel the world before I die, because in my case, life does get in the way – bills must be paid, children must be educated and cared for, and shelter must be maintained. But I have realized that I can change in small ways, and remember to live my life to the fullest I possibly can each and every day. To close my eyes at night knowing that if did not wake up, people around me would know how I felt. I do admit I slip up from time to time. I am, after all, human. I have found, however, the more I make myself aware of this path, the easier it is to follow. Also, like any habit, it requires continual maintenance to form; following through with intentions is no different.
But at the end of the day, for me, it means to never forget, or take for granted, those who are close to me. To tell the people I care about, how I feel, often enough so that they know and remember, and to follow my heart and the dreams within. So I say this now, to those of you who hold that special place in my life, “Thank you for being in my life, for making me laugh and smile, for caring about my well being, for running each mile with me, and most of all, for loving me just because I am me.”
If every person who vowed to change after being touched by death actually followed through we would have completely different dynamic on this earth. As memories fade, so do those good intentions. It’s not that we are blatantly ignoring these “best laid plans”, but despite death, life gets in the way.
That said, I don’t think this is necessarily a bad thing; one thing that is repeated over and over when one is faced with a passing is that “Life goes on”. Most certainly death would win us over if we completely stopped living and let the darkness we feel consume us, but it also wins if we continually ignore its messages.
So what is its message? It differs for each person. For one it may mean mending fences with estranged relatives. For another it means signing up for wind surfing lessons after countless summers of intending just that. And for still another it may mean to travel more.
Unfortunately, as much as I would like to, I just can’t drop everything to travel the world before I die, because in my case, life does get in the way – bills must be paid, children must be educated and cared for, and shelter must be maintained. But I have realized that I can change in small ways, and remember to live my life to the fullest I possibly can each and every day. To close my eyes at night knowing that if did not wake up, people around me would know how I felt. I do admit I slip up from time to time. I am, after all, human. I have found, however, the more I make myself aware of this path, the easier it is to follow. Also, like any habit, it requires continual maintenance to form; following through with intentions is no different.
But at the end of the day, for me, it means to never forget, or take for granted, those who are close to me. To tell the people I care about, how I feel, often enough so that they know and remember, and to follow my heart and the dreams within. So I say this now, to those of you who hold that special place in my life, “Thank you for being in my life, for making me laugh and smile, for caring about my well being, for running each mile with me, and most of all, for loving me just because I am me.”
Thursday, 23 August 2007
One Year Ago...
It is said, and reiterated by many, that it takes at least one year for a person to adjust to major life changes, be it a death in the family, a job transformation, a move or a change in a relationship; break-up, separation or divorce. This is because you have to undergo a full year’s worth of birthdays, celebrations and holidays to experience all the milestones that mark the passing of time, and then establish new memories and traditions.
I hit the one year mark this week. It has been an insightful year. It has had its sad moments, but most of all, it has been a year of renewal, reinvention and rebirth. I look back on the past year’s events with an open mind, and wonder who that person was who started this journey way back then. I reflect on the last year…
This is what I learned:
I have adjusted. I have healed. I have moved on. I have let go of guilt. I have embraced change. New perspectives are always around the corner. I have found new friends. I have rekindled old friendships. My family is my rock. I have learned to smile and laugh more. I like smiling and laughing. I have released my regrets. Life is too short to dwell on the past for very long. I value time. It’s OK to be selfish every now and then. Beer and gin can be considered food groups. Taking time for me makes me a better friend and mother to those close to me. The writer in me never really went away. I missed her. I need to feel. I crave creative outlets. Many of them. I require physical outlets. Many of them. Cancer sucks. I have found the balance I was missing. My children are more important than a clean apartment. Jumping on a trampoline can be liberating. So can laying there watching the stars. I am full of surprises. Sometimes things are easy. Sometimes things are just worth waiting for. I am patient. Time spent worrying is time well wasted. I like myself (a lot). Others like me too. I can be happy again. I am.
I am happy…
I hit the one year mark this week. It has been an insightful year. It has had its sad moments, but most of all, it has been a year of renewal, reinvention and rebirth. I look back on the past year’s events with an open mind, and wonder who that person was who started this journey way back then. I reflect on the last year…
This is what I learned:
I have adjusted. I have healed. I have moved on. I have let go of guilt. I have embraced change. New perspectives are always around the corner. I have found new friends. I have rekindled old friendships. My family is my rock. I have learned to smile and laugh more. I like smiling and laughing. I have released my regrets. Life is too short to dwell on the past for very long. I value time. It’s OK to be selfish every now and then. Beer and gin can be considered food groups. Taking time for me makes me a better friend and mother to those close to me. The writer in me never really went away. I missed her. I need to feel. I crave creative outlets. Many of them. I require physical outlets. Many of them. Cancer sucks. I have found the balance I was missing. My children are more important than a clean apartment. Jumping on a trampoline can be liberating. So can laying there watching the stars. I am full of surprises. Sometimes things are easy. Sometimes things are just worth waiting for. I am patient. Time spent worrying is time well wasted. I like myself (a lot). Others like me too. I can be happy again. I am.
I am happy…
Friday, 17 August 2007
Forward Looking
Do you ever fear that your anticipation of an event will overshadow the event itself? I firmly believe that if we had nothing to look forward to our lives would be pretty bleak. That may explain why religion can play such an important role in some people’s lives. Knowing that life has not been lived for naught, that there is a higher destiny waiting, tends to propel some people through their lives.
I am not a religious person – spiritual yes, religious, no. I don’t look to the end of my life thinking that redemption waits. But I do look to the end of each day, and hope that I can close my eyes at night, content with how I’ve handled myself. I try to stay optimistic – to begin each day with deep breaths and picture it playing out. I treat each day as an entity in and of itself. Breaking down life into these tiny segments makes it easier to stay on the positive side of things. Even though I know I will eventually lose my job, I still arrive at work fresh and believe that if I approach it in this manner that good things will happen. I guess it doesn’t matter what it is you look forward to, as long as you are looking ahead.
But getting back to the initial question…Can over-anticipation leave to disappointment? We’ve all been let down by things not playing out as we’d hoped. There’s a song by the band Yes called “Aim Low – Shoot High”. I think to not be disappointed in your life this should be a consideration. But how low does one have to aim to ensure you will hit the mark? And that may be the crux of my question…Lower your expectations and your disappointment level should follow proportionately. It is so easy to lecture this, and I have been just as guilty of having my excitement over an upcoming event eclipse the experience itself.
That was also when I viewed life in a different manner than I do today. Today, I keep my options open. I tend to feel that no matter what happens down the road, it will have been for a reason. Each person I meet, each decision I make, each day I wake, holds new possibilities for this writer. I am open to whatever life deals me. Accepting the consequences of those choices is also part of the process. I would rather be looking ahead, and not be as concerned with disappointment, than regretting what has already gone. For me, looking forward is not an option, it is a conscious choice, no matter what the outcome.
I am not a religious person – spiritual yes, religious, no. I don’t look to the end of my life thinking that redemption waits. But I do look to the end of each day, and hope that I can close my eyes at night, content with how I’ve handled myself. I try to stay optimistic – to begin each day with deep breaths and picture it playing out. I treat each day as an entity in and of itself. Breaking down life into these tiny segments makes it easier to stay on the positive side of things. Even though I know I will eventually lose my job, I still arrive at work fresh and believe that if I approach it in this manner that good things will happen. I guess it doesn’t matter what it is you look forward to, as long as you are looking ahead.
But getting back to the initial question…Can over-anticipation leave to disappointment? We’ve all been let down by things not playing out as we’d hoped. There’s a song by the band Yes called “Aim Low – Shoot High”. I think to not be disappointed in your life this should be a consideration. But how low does one have to aim to ensure you will hit the mark? And that may be the crux of my question…Lower your expectations and your disappointment level should follow proportionately. It is so easy to lecture this, and I have been just as guilty of having my excitement over an upcoming event eclipse the experience itself.
That was also when I viewed life in a different manner than I do today. Today, I keep my options open. I tend to feel that no matter what happens down the road, it will have been for a reason. Each person I meet, each decision I make, each day I wake, holds new possibilities for this writer. I am open to whatever life deals me. Accepting the consequences of those choices is also part of the process. I would rather be looking ahead, and not be as concerned with disappointment, than regretting what has already gone. For me, looking forward is not an option, it is a conscious choice, no matter what the outcome.
Thursday, 26 July 2007
Forgiveness
Stop for a moment, and think about how powerful forgiveness is. Forgiving someone or allowing someone to forgive you can be the most liberating feeling you will ever experience. To hold onto resentment and allow it to consume you is the equivalent of a parasite slowly eating you from the inside. It becomes the entire focus of your existence and you can concentrate on nothing else.
Over 20 years ago I nearly let this get the better of me…
I had taken a summer job working for a forest products company. My co-workers were three other forestry students. The only background I had in forestry was that I was related to the manager, he was my father, although I was told that nepotism was not the only reason I got the job.
Since my experience was limited, I was often paired up with one of the two other more seasoned summer students. That was how I met Craig. Spending countless hours together in a truck traveling the company roads or out in the bush learning to cruise timber, we got to know a lot about each other. It was only a matter of time.
I remember our first kiss, vividly. The students were housed in tiny rental cabins about 10 minutes from town – being the only female I had one to myself. The three guys shared the other one which was two doors away. I had been fighting feelings I had for Craig for a while. He had never given me any indication that he felt the same way, so I was not about to make a fool of myself by blurting something out and then having to live with the consequences of my actions for the remainder of the summer. I obviously did not hide these feelings that well.
It was a windy evening. The cabins we were assigned were situated at the mouth of the English River and there were soaring views of Lac Seul from the doorsteps. I was feeling particularly out of sorts one evening, lamenting, as a young woman does, my solitude. I left my cabin and walked down to the shore to watch the sunset and the waves on the lake from the floating dock. I guess that’s why I didn’t hear anything or notice the dock move, until I felt an arm around my waist. Instinctively I knew it was him. We stood there, silently, as the waves rocked the pier. Slowly he turned me around and looked straight into my eyes. As I stared back I felt like I was looking into eternity. Our kiss was slow and gentle and if I close my eyes today, I can still feel his lips on mine. From that moment on the summer was ours.
Unfortunately, had I been able to think properly, I would never have been as hurt as I was. I should have realized this was a summer romance, that it would end in August when our contracts were up, but I blindly let my heart lead me. I should have known when I found the crumpled note in his truck that there was someone else in his life: “Hi there princess, I miss you…” He never called me “princess”.
I barreled on, with blinders, because it was what I chose to see. We went on a canoe trip, we shared photographs, we went fishing and spent many hours drinking on the dock where it all started. And at the end of the summer, when the windup BBQ was over and he took me home, I should have said, “That was a great summer! Thank you for the memories!” But I didn’t. I called and we talked. I missed him and he said he missed me too. He didn’t. He couldn’t, because the next time I called I was informed that he had moved out, and no, they didn’t have a forwarding address or phone number.
I was crushed into tiny pieces, and scattered. I was too lost in my own pain, and then the anger hit. I sat on that anger for over a year. I wrote letter after letter that I threw away. I let it stew and burn inside me. I held onto that fury like it was a lifeline. It became my raison d’etre. I evolved into an empty unfeeling shell.
And then one day I saw it in the card store. A simple card – a picture of an overgrown sidewalk with a child’s red wagon sitting on the cement, slightly askew, the handle leaning on the ground. It looked like it had been abandoned, the red wagon, my red heart. Alone, and overgrown. I bought it immediately and went home to write. All I needed was one simple sentence; “Last summer you hurt me deeply, but I forgive you, because by forgiving you, I set myself free.” I sent it in care of his parents’ address, never knowing whether or not he received it. It didn’t matter. The act of sending the card set my healing into motion. From that moment on I fully began to appreciate what forgiveness could really do. Maybe knowing its destructive force helped me to move on, and look at it in a different light. I do know that I have not allowed it to consume me in that manner again.
Life is too short. Forgive.
Over 20 years ago I nearly let this get the better of me…
I had taken a summer job working for a forest products company. My co-workers were three other forestry students. The only background I had in forestry was that I was related to the manager, he was my father, although I was told that nepotism was not the only reason I got the job.
Since my experience was limited, I was often paired up with one of the two other more seasoned summer students. That was how I met Craig. Spending countless hours together in a truck traveling the company roads or out in the bush learning to cruise timber, we got to know a lot about each other. It was only a matter of time.
I remember our first kiss, vividly. The students were housed in tiny rental cabins about 10 minutes from town – being the only female I had one to myself. The three guys shared the other one which was two doors away. I had been fighting feelings I had for Craig for a while. He had never given me any indication that he felt the same way, so I was not about to make a fool of myself by blurting something out and then having to live with the consequences of my actions for the remainder of the summer. I obviously did not hide these feelings that well.
It was a windy evening. The cabins we were assigned were situated at the mouth of the English River and there were soaring views of Lac Seul from the doorsteps. I was feeling particularly out of sorts one evening, lamenting, as a young woman does, my solitude. I left my cabin and walked down to the shore to watch the sunset and the waves on the lake from the floating dock. I guess that’s why I didn’t hear anything or notice the dock move, until I felt an arm around my waist. Instinctively I knew it was him. We stood there, silently, as the waves rocked the pier. Slowly he turned me around and looked straight into my eyes. As I stared back I felt like I was looking into eternity. Our kiss was slow and gentle and if I close my eyes today, I can still feel his lips on mine. From that moment on the summer was ours.
Unfortunately, had I been able to think properly, I would never have been as hurt as I was. I should have realized this was a summer romance, that it would end in August when our contracts were up, but I blindly let my heart lead me. I should have known when I found the crumpled note in his truck that there was someone else in his life: “Hi there princess, I miss you…” He never called me “princess”.
I barreled on, with blinders, because it was what I chose to see. We went on a canoe trip, we shared photographs, we went fishing and spent many hours drinking on the dock where it all started. And at the end of the summer, when the windup BBQ was over and he took me home, I should have said, “That was a great summer! Thank you for the memories!” But I didn’t. I called and we talked. I missed him and he said he missed me too. He didn’t. He couldn’t, because the next time I called I was informed that he had moved out, and no, they didn’t have a forwarding address or phone number.
I was crushed into tiny pieces, and scattered. I was too lost in my own pain, and then the anger hit. I sat on that anger for over a year. I wrote letter after letter that I threw away. I let it stew and burn inside me. I held onto that fury like it was a lifeline. It became my raison d’etre. I evolved into an empty unfeeling shell.
And then one day I saw it in the card store. A simple card – a picture of an overgrown sidewalk with a child’s red wagon sitting on the cement, slightly askew, the handle leaning on the ground. It looked like it had been abandoned, the red wagon, my red heart. Alone, and overgrown. I bought it immediately and went home to write. All I needed was one simple sentence; “Last summer you hurt me deeply, but I forgive you, because by forgiving you, I set myself free.” I sent it in care of his parents’ address, never knowing whether or not he received it. It didn’t matter. The act of sending the card set my healing into motion. From that moment on I fully began to appreciate what forgiveness could really do. Maybe knowing its destructive force helped me to move on, and look at it in a different light. I do know that I have not allowed it to consume me in that manner again.
Life is too short. Forgive.
Tuesday, 17 July 2007
Uncertainty? Certainly…
There are times in one’s life where you come head to head with uncertainty – with decisions that need to be made in some cases, and in other cases, decisions that are completely out of your hands. Decision making in it’s own right is stressful, and you often wonder if you have made the correct choice – sometimes not knowing until years down the road whether the result was the right one for you or not. Because humans can logically breakdown the consequences of decision making, we are more accountable for our actions than other living beings on this planet that make decisions by instinct.
I am at a cross roads in my life where there are many uncertainties to deal with, and no instant decisions that I can personally make to have this go away. I have to trust that whatever happens will be for a reason. I also have to trust that once I do everything in my power that I can possibly do, I have to let fate take over. That way, there will be no regrets on my part (for more on no regrets, see the topic “Missed Opportunities” from April). I have lived regret-free for the last 8 months, and the feeling is very liberating. Knowing that I have done what is in my power to do, comforts me in the decisions I have made in my life. I can move forward with a positive attitude, and spread that feeling to others in my life.
My work life currently abounds with a certain degree of questionableness. Since the company for which I work was acquired via hostile takeover, employees are not confident that their present situation will hold for much longer. Many have already taken the plunge and have moved on to more secure environments elsewhere. Those of us who have chosen to persevere realize that our future could be in jeopardy yet we continue to hold fast. This decision for me is personal. I have chosen to remain. And with that, accept what may or may not befall me in the days and weeks to come. I may not have control over the eventuality of these consequences, but I have consciously relinquished that in favour of continued stability for the time being. Too many things have been happening in my life as of late and to further add to the ever-growing pile would be emotionally encumbering.
Questions are also arising in my personal life, from many points, and, though the learning curve is steep, I am finding the climb exhilarating and exciting. I have discovered many things about myself, which is rewarding in and of itself. I have discovered that I have a huge capacity for patience. I like the anticipation of what may or may not occur in my future and the decisions that are out of my hands are sweetly awaited. Once you have made the “decision to accept indecision”, you can be at peace with yourself.
We cannot expect to cruise effortlessly through life on a smooth pathway. There will always be bumps to slow us down and forks compelling us to make a new selection at each point. Life is a network of choices, and with each one comes a new array of options. The main thing is that you are constantly moving forward, confronting each obstacle as it arises. I think in life uncertainty will always be there, and if you keep that in mind then you’ve already begun to grade your own path to a life well lived.
I am at a cross roads in my life where there are many uncertainties to deal with, and no instant decisions that I can personally make to have this go away. I have to trust that whatever happens will be for a reason. I also have to trust that once I do everything in my power that I can possibly do, I have to let fate take over. That way, there will be no regrets on my part (for more on no regrets, see the topic “Missed Opportunities” from April). I have lived regret-free for the last 8 months, and the feeling is very liberating. Knowing that I have done what is in my power to do, comforts me in the decisions I have made in my life. I can move forward with a positive attitude, and spread that feeling to others in my life.
My work life currently abounds with a certain degree of questionableness. Since the company for which I work was acquired via hostile takeover, employees are not confident that their present situation will hold for much longer. Many have already taken the plunge and have moved on to more secure environments elsewhere. Those of us who have chosen to persevere realize that our future could be in jeopardy yet we continue to hold fast. This decision for me is personal. I have chosen to remain. And with that, accept what may or may not befall me in the days and weeks to come. I may not have control over the eventuality of these consequences, but I have consciously relinquished that in favour of continued stability for the time being. Too many things have been happening in my life as of late and to further add to the ever-growing pile would be emotionally encumbering.
Questions are also arising in my personal life, from many points, and, though the learning curve is steep, I am finding the climb exhilarating and exciting. I have discovered many things about myself, which is rewarding in and of itself. I have discovered that I have a huge capacity for patience. I like the anticipation of what may or may not occur in my future and the decisions that are out of my hands are sweetly awaited. Once you have made the “decision to accept indecision”, you can be at peace with yourself.
We cannot expect to cruise effortlessly through life on a smooth pathway. There will always be bumps to slow us down and forks compelling us to make a new selection at each point. Life is a network of choices, and with each one comes a new array of options. The main thing is that you are constantly moving forward, confronting each obstacle as it arises. I think in life uncertainty will always be there, and if you keep that in mind then you’ve already begun to grade your own path to a life well lived.
Friday, 13 July 2007
Timely reflections…
While speaking, about many random topics, in an airport coffee shop with someone whom I’d only recently met, we stumbled across the matter of time. As we only had a scant ½ hour before my flight left, we were noting, wistfully, how nice it would be to “buy more time”. But upon further reflection, it was mutually decided that, as nice as that sounded, it would be likely the most abused purchase known to man. What makes time such a sought after commodity is the fact that is it completely non-renewable. “Use it or lose it”. That familiar saying cannot be more aptly applied.
As we continued our conversation the seconds ticked on, and we became all too aware that our very own time together was now limited. Conversation flowed, coffee was consumed and my impending departure hung over us like a heavy anvil on a thin string. Ignoring the weight didn’t make it go away entirely but it became lighter in our minds as we focused on other things, and touched and laughed and planned. You really only appreciate it after the fact. I look back on those brief 48 hours and think with wonderment how much I was able to learn, share, and become with this person I’d just met. Time can do many things to us if we let it, but I choose not to let it erase what was so preciously gained.
Finally the hourglass had given up its final grains of sand. I sipped the remainder of my coffee, threw my bag over my shoulder and we began to walk toward the gate, maintaining our discourse, still not letting it get the better of us. He had lightly joked earlier about recycling time not used in a virtual blue box, having it re-emerge at a later point disguised as another moment to spend together. So mentally I placed what little we had not used into that receptacle and stepped up to say my goodbye. We would become geographically challenged from this point forward.
As I walked away, I could not make myself look back – physically or mentally. The line was crossed, and, as tough as it was to accept that this time had depleted itself, it was equally easy to realize that this was time ‘invested’. Choosing what to invest it in was entirely a personal decision.
I knew by the vague twisting inside that I had endowed wisely, that my time was well spent and I had no regrets to leave with. Not even regret that we live so far apart. All things happen for reasons often unknown or unseen by us. The few cleansing tears I shed later were purposeful, proving to me that there was something there – a fine elastic thread stretched between two souls – and I was not planning to let go of it just yet.
As we continued our conversation the seconds ticked on, and we became all too aware that our very own time together was now limited. Conversation flowed, coffee was consumed and my impending departure hung over us like a heavy anvil on a thin string. Ignoring the weight didn’t make it go away entirely but it became lighter in our minds as we focused on other things, and touched and laughed and planned. You really only appreciate it after the fact. I look back on those brief 48 hours and think with wonderment how much I was able to learn, share, and become with this person I’d just met. Time can do many things to us if we let it, but I choose not to let it erase what was so preciously gained.
Finally the hourglass had given up its final grains of sand. I sipped the remainder of my coffee, threw my bag over my shoulder and we began to walk toward the gate, maintaining our discourse, still not letting it get the better of us. He had lightly joked earlier about recycling time not used in a virtual blue box, having it re-emerge at a later point disguised as another moment to spend together. So mentally I placed what little we had not used into that receptacle and stepped up to say my goodbye. We would become geographically challenged from this point forward.
As I walked away, I could not make myself look back – physically or mentally. The line was crossed, and, as tough as it was to accept that this time had depleted itself, it was equally easy to realize that this was time ‘invested’. Choosing what to invest it in was entirely a personal decision.
I knew by the vague twisting inside that I had endowed wisely, that my time was well spent and I had no regrets to leave with. Not even regret that we live so far apart. All things happen for reasons often unknown or unseen by us. The few cleansing tears I shed later were purposeful, proving to me that there was something there – a fine elastic thread stretched between two souls – and I was not planning to let go of it just yet.
Monday, 9 July 2007
Today and only today
Treating yourself well should be a given. We have only one body in which to live our life, and it will last only as long as we allow it. Physical, spiritual and mental well-being should be essential to our daily existence.
Some people spend more time on their car than they do on their body. They spend countless hours washing, polishing, shining, vacuuming, gassing up, driving and admiring their vehicle, and then turn around and light up a cigarette and shovel some junk food into themselves. Then they wonder why they aren’t happy with their life. Priorities are twisted in today’s world.
I thought of this as I went for a run this morning. Since I am not officially training for anything until October, I decided to just run and take in the morning. After a week of soaring temperatures this morning was cool and breezy – almost as if it was meant for me. I am not a heat runner so summers are difficult for me to train efficiently. I took this temperature drop as a sign, so laced up the shoes and headed out on my usual 10 mile route. I quickly got into the zone and realized that I had not run since last Tuesday (that’s five days ago!). It felt great. The feel of my blood pumping was like burning the carbon out of my engine, clearing my veins and straightening out my head. There were just too many things going on in that brain and I needed to organize, tidy and let go of them.
After six miles I slowed down and walked through the park – admiring the power of the muddy Red River to my left, the beautiful English Gardens to my right and the towering elm trees shading me from above. I breathed in the clean air, deep breaths, and exhaled the stresses, the loneliness I was feeling, the tiredness I had woken up with, and replaced it all with gratitude. Not only was I caring for my physical being, but my mental one as well. At seven miles I began to run again, a renewed sense of self and purpose taking over. I thought of the dinner for one I had made for myself last night – treating myself well. For if you refuse to do it for yourself, you can never expect someone else to.
I write this with more of an uplifted spirit than I have had in days. I have been able to approach each day singly, focusing on just the day, and what I want it to bring to me, and also what I can give back. Today I will spend with a friend who is more like a sister; we will visit another friend who is going through chemotherapy, and try to bring a beam of light to his face. Today I will smile at everyone I see, even if they cut me off in traffic. Today I will focus on today, and only today. And tomorrow? Well, wait until I get there.
Some people spend more time on their car than they do on their body. They spend countless hours washing, polishing, shining, vacuuming, gassing up, driving and admiring their vehicle, and then turn around and light up a cigarette and shovel some junk food into themselves. Then they wonder why they aren’t happy with their life. Priorities are twisted in today’s world.
I thought of this as I went for a run this morning. Since I am not officially training for anything until October, I decided to just run and take in the morning. After a week of soaring temperatures this morning was cool and breezy – almost as if it was meant for me. I am not a heat runner so summers are difficult for me to train efficiently. I took this temperature drop as a sign, so laced up the shoes and headed out on my usual 10 mile route. I quickly got into the zone and realized that I had not run since last Tuesday (that’s five days ago!). It felt great. The feel of my blood pumping was like burning the carbon out of my engine, clearing my veins and straightening out my head. There were just too many things going on in that brain and I needed to organize, tidy and let go of them.
After six miles I slowed down and walked through the park – admiring the power of the muddy Red River to my left, the beautiful English Gardens to my right and the towering elm trees shading me from above. I breathed in the clean air, deep breaths, and exhaled the stresses, the loneliness I was feeling, the tiredness I had woken up with, and replaced it all with gratitude. Not only was I caring for my physical being, but my mental one as well. At seven miles I began to run again, a renewed sense of self and purpose taking over. I thought of the dinner for one I had made for myself last night – treating myself well. For if you refuse to do it for yourself, you can never expect someone else to.
I write this with more of an uplifted spirit than I have had in days. I have been able to approach each day singly, focusing on just the day, and what I want it to bring to me, and also what I can give back. Today I will spend with a friend who is more like a sister; we will visit another friend who is going through chemotherapy, and try to bring a beam of light to his face. Today I will smile at everyone I see, even if they cut me off in traffic. Today I will focus on today, and only today. And tomorrow? Well, wait until I get there.
Sunday, 8 July 2007
Heat
Morning dawns hot, humid, my skin is sticky and I lay on top of the sheets to keep cool. Outside it is completely still; even the leaves can’t bear to move in this heat.
I pour a coffee and head to work. The dog walkers have already gone by – they are early today, or maybe I’m late. The walk to the bus is quiet, even the birds are silent – saving energy or hiding from the looming storm? The clouds are low – tree branches seem to reach into them and caress their soft bellies. The man on the radio talked about thunderstorms…feels about right. The air is gravid and stiff and I can almost feel it parting for me as I wade through. It closes behind me, filling the empty space I leave in my wake.
A breeze escapes from somewhere, twirls a few leaves on trees, playfully tosses a lock of my hair before dissipating into the heaviness, a short life, but productive in its passing. My bus sounds laboured – similar to the wheezing heard in -30 when engines refuse to work. It doesn’t like this heat but toils on regardless.
It is not yet 7:00 a.m. and already I feel tiny beads of sweat collecting at the small of my back. I look forward to the shiver as they combine and roll down my skin, cooling me every so slightly despite the warm temperature. The day is sensual in nature, and although the air-conditioned office will be welcome, a part of me is reluctant to pull itself from the sultry grasp of these few hours after dawn.
In heat we all move slowly, languidly, taking our time, like lovers exploring each other for the first time, tentative, yet passionate. Even at the end of the day, undressing unhurriedly pulling my shirt over my head, I delight in the feeling of the air beginning to move on my damp skin.
A cold beer hisses and the condensation makes it slippery to hold. I take a long pull and reflect.
Day one of the heat wave is nearly over. By the end of the week, tempers will be flying and people will be snapping at each other – they can’t stand to be out of control. So I savour this first day, because it is new, because the leaves haven’t yet begun to droop, and the sidewalks still get cool at night. I can still sleep with my windows open, soothed into slumber by the sounds of the night cooling off; distant traffic, the odd rustle of the leaves in the trees and the gentle hum of air-conditioners next door. Accepting what you can’t control is the trick to getting through each day.
I pour a coffee and head to work. The dog walkers have already gone by – they are early today, or maybe I’m late. The walk to the bus is quiet, even the birds are silent – saving energy or hiding from the looming storm? The clouds are low – tree branches seem to reach into them and caress their soft bellies. The man on the radio talked about thunderstorms…feels about right. The air is gravid and stiff and I can almost feel it parting for me as I wade through. It closes behind me, filling the empty space I leave in my wake.
A breeze escapes from somewhere, twirls a few leaves on trees, playfully tosses a lock of my hair before dissipating into the heaviness, a short life, but productive in its passing. My bus sounds laboured – similar to the wheezing heard in -30 when engines refuse to work. It doesn’t like this heat but toils on regardless.
It is not yet 7:00 a.m. and already I feel tiny beads of sweat collecting at the small of my back. I look forward to the shiver as they combine and roll down my skin, cooling me every so slightly despite the warm temperature. The day is sensual in nature, and although the air-conditioned office will be welcome, a part of me is reluctant to pull itself from the sultry grasp of these few hours after dawn.
In heat we all move slowly, languidly, taking our time, like lovers exploring each other for the first time, tentative, yet passionate. Even at the end of the day, undressing unhurriedly pulling my shirt over my head, I delight in the feeling of the air beginning to move on my damp skin.
A cold beer hisses and the condensation makes it slippery to hold. I take a long pull and reflect.
Day one of the heat wave is nearly over. By the end of the week, tempers will be flying and people will be snapping at each other – they can’t stand to be out of control. So I savour this first day, because it is new, because the leaves haven’t yet begun to droop, and the sidewalks still get cool at night. I can still sleep with my windows open, soothed into slumber by the sounds of the night cooling off; distant traffic, the odd rustle of the leaves in the trees and the gentle hum of air-conditioners next door. Accepting what you can’t control is the trick to getting through each day.
Friday, 6 July 2007
Vagabonds and Writers
My vagabond dreamer
drives through the night
I map his progress
golden push pins
in a map stapled to my wall
tracing his journey
Cell phone speak
Scattered sentences
I place them carefully back together
while I lay beneath my sheets
holding tightly to his words
because they’re all I have
The intangible him
is always here
traveling through my thoughts
a ghostly mist
of man and memory
Any form brings comfort
Another call
Another town
Another gold pin
If I squint in the darkness
they twinkle like stars
reflecting the streetlight outside
I drift to sleep
in my private celestial universe
dreaming of the vagabond
and me
drives through the night
I map his progress
golden push pins
in a map stapled to my wall
tracing his journey
Cell phone speak
Scattered sentences
I place them carefully back together
while I lay beneath my sheets
holding tightly to his words
because they’re all I have
The intangible him
is always here
traveling through my thoughts
a ghostly mist
of man and memory
Any form brings comfort
Another call
Another town
Another gold pin
If I squint in the darkness
they twinkle like stars
reflecting the streetlight outside
I drift to sleep
in my private celestial universe
dreaming of the vagabond
and me
Wednesday, 4 July 2007
Becoming
Becoming who I already was took me 43 years. It wasn’t even that I was searching – I just happened upon her one day. It was as if she had been waiting patiently for me to reach this destination; she welcomed me without fanfare or celebration, just a gentle nod and brief acknowledgement – like arriving home on any given day to be greeted with “Oh hi, you’re home…how was your day?”
This familiarness nearly reduced me to tears because if affirmed in my mind that I belonged. I wouldn’t have to do any explaining, or worse, convincing, to guarantee my acceptance. The questions that were posed, however, were “Where had she been until now?” and “Why hadn’t she said/done something earlier?”, but most importantly “Why did it take so long to finally realize who I had been all along?”
So how did she find me? She was cleverly disguised as a mother, a writer, a runner, a computer programmer and wife. She lived inside my head, watching my life from within, and waiting for the perfect opportunity to emerge, to show her smiling face to the one who had almost forgotten how. It came unexpectedly, a sudden realization that this was not how she wanted to continue, and then becoming conscious of the difficult decisions that would follow and the guidance that would be required.
I can only surmise, and draw from my own thoughts and opinions, which has become my modus operandi in this series of self-revelations, that I wasn’t ready and would not have recognized her before now. I think that maybe we are only dealt what we can safely cope with, and even when we think we feel completely overwhelmed, somehow it is still manageable.
She has become a close friend to me. I like her. She laughs more than she ever used to, her thoughts are clearer, and she now understands and accepts who she really is, instead of burying it in the depths of the emotional closet. She is a beautiful person who I am very proud to know. And I can confidently state that she will be here for some time to come.
This familiarness nearly reduced me to tears because if affirmed in my mind that I belonged. I wouldn’t have to do any explaining, or worse, convincing, to guarantee my acceptance. The questions that were posed, however, were “Where had she been until now?” and “Why hadn’t she said/done something earlier?”, but most importantly “Why did it take so long to finally realize who I had been all along?”
So how did she find me? She was cleverly disguised as a mother, a writer, a runner, a computer programmer and wife. She lived inside my head, watching my life from within, and waiting for the perfect opportunity to emerge, to show her smiling face to the one who had almost forgotten how. It came unexpectedly, a sudden realization that this was not how she wanted to continue, and then becoming conscious of the difficult decisions that would follow and the guidance that would be required.
I can only surmise, and draw from my own thoughts and opinions, which has become my modus operandi in this series of self-revelations, that I wasn’t ready and would not have recognized her before now. I think that maybe we are only dealt what we can safely cope with, and even when we think we feel completely overwhelmed, somehow it is still manageable.
She has become a close friend to me. I like her. She laughs more than she ever used to, her thoughts are clearer, and she now understands and accepts who she really is, instead of burying it in the depths of the emotional closet. She is a beautiful person who I am very proud to know. And I can confidently state that she will be here for some time to come.
Thursday, 21 June 2007
Beauty Beheld
Sometimes when I write, the pen seems to take over and I just follow the flow of words…When I think too much about a topic, I hit a blank wall –It’s like the ideas are in my subconscious and I just need to let them tumble out, unhindered. I also write a lot of poetry to express myself, but I haven’t posted any to this blog. There is always a first time and that time is today. This poem seemed to write itself and I changed almost nothing from the first draft:
Beauty Beheld
You smile bravely
a boyish grin
instantly aged
by chemicals
and poison
You fearlessly
joke
about burnt skin
that hasn't even seen the sun
and cannot
be quenched
by soothing dips
in shady pools
Your strawberry hair
has not yet thinned
or disappeared
but you know it's only a matter of time
and you jest
about bald being beautiful
But it is you
who is beautiful
a genuine beauty
a kind beauty
a soulful beauty
and I want
to become part of you
and learn from your strength
I want to kiss you slowly
and make time stop
to show you
how strong you really are
I want
to turn you inside out
so the world
can see your beauty
like I do
Beauty Beheld
You smile bravely
a boyish grin
instantly aged
by chemicals
and poison
You fearlessly
joke
about burnt skin
that hasn't even seen the sun
and cannot
be quenched
by soothing dips
in shady pools
Your strawberry hair
has not yet thinned
or disappeared
but you know it's only a matter of time
and you jest
about bald being beautiful
But it is you
who is beautiful
a genuine beauty
a kind beauty
a soulful beauty
and I want
to become part of you
and learn from your strength
I want to kiss you slowly
and make time stop
to show you
how strong you really are
I want
to turn you inside out
so the world
can see your beauty
like I do
Monday, 11 June 2007
Learning, Listening, Believing
I think at some point in time we all stop to wonder why…it doesn’t matter what the question is, you can always ask why and never be satisfied with the answer. Why do planes stay up in the air? Why is the ocean blue? Why do people get cancer? I’m baffled at the apparent randomness of it, especially since it has hit someone I’m close to and care about. A feeling of helplessness envelops you and you realize how little you can actually do. Even though you can maintain a physical presence, comforting words and embraces, the disease remains there – an ever-present demon who threatens each and every moment, relentless, but most of all meaningless and purposeless…
Or is it?
We have become hardened – it takes so much more to shock us than our ancestors – we are bold, we are pushy and we are entitled, or so we think. (We are a completely different generation than our parents, and we should prepare for the same fast forward evolution with our own kids.) It is difficult to look for gratitude every day, to be thankful for another trip around the sun every year when we are surrounded by complacency. Gentle reminders don’t appear to work. We as humans tend to be smug in our lives, maybe we need to odd shake up to jolt us back to reality – to remind us of how precious this life we live really is.
My friend has cancer. I’ve known ‘of’ many people who have also had it, but have never had the opportunity to talk to them – it was something you didn’t mention, or something they didn’t mention. But my friend and I talked, openly, forward and honestly…and I listened.
He is scared, and I am scared for him. I have already learned a lot, I am learning more but there is still so much more for me to learn. When you dig deep enough past our moral crust, you get to the real heat – the passion and the intensity we all possess – you see people in different lights, and appreciate their darkness at the same time.
It seems that the simplest things are what make the biggest difference. Humour inserted where you never thought it could be funny, where the laughter is genuine, not forced or nervous. We are leaning positively, because to think anything else is inconceivable. As if by thinking it you allow it to happen – so we leave that stone unturned where it is.
And sometimes we just talk about other things – like what our future aspirations are, how we feel about the housing market, or our preferred musical tastes. I didn’t know his favourite band was Great Big Sea – the things you learn when you actually listen.
What else have I learned? His smile is contagious, his hair is soft, and he can’t spell worth beans, but it makes him quirky and loveable all the same. He will get through this, and we will be right beside him, because we listen and because we believe.
Or is it?
We have become hardened – it takes so much more to shock us than our ancestors – we are bold, we are pushy and we are entitled, or so we think. (We are a completely different generation than our parents, and we should prepare for the same fast forward evolution with our own kids.) It is difficult to look for gratitude every day, to be thankful for another trip around the sun every year when we are surrounded by complacency. Gentle reminders don’t appear to work. We as humans tend to be smug in our lives, maybe we need to odd shake up to jolt us back to reality – to remind us of how precious this life we live really is.
My friend has cancer. I’ve known ‘of’ many people who have also had it, but have never had the opportunity to talk to them – it was something you didn’t mention, or something they didn’t mention. But my friend and I talked, openly, forward and honestly…and I listened.
He is scared, and I am scared for him. I have already learned a lot, I am learning more but there is still so much more for me to learn. When you dig deep enough past our moral crust, you get to the real heat – the passion and the intensity we all possess – you see people in different lights, and appreciate their darkness at the same time.
It seems that the simplest things are what make the biggest difference. Humour inserted where you never thought it could be funny, where the laughter is genuine, not forced or nervous. We are leaning positively, because to think anything else is inconceivable. As if by thinking it you allow it to happen – so we leave that stone unturned where it is.
And sometimes we just talk about other things – like what our future aspirations are, how we feel about the housing market, or our preferred musical tastes. I didn’t know his favourite band was Great Big Sea – the things you learn when you actually listen.
What else have I learned? His smile is contagious, his hair is soft, and he can’t spell worth beans, but it makes him quirky and loveable all the same. He will get through this, and we will be right beside him, because we listen and because we believe.
Sunday, 3 June 2007
Belief in self...
Life should constitute being satisfied with what you have, and acknowledging it as you have chosen to live it. Yet people are constantly desirous of what others have, the way others live, and how others look. Being sucked in by this jealousy compromises our ability to fully live our own lives. It drags us around. This ugly emotion serves no purpose other than self destruction. We crave material goods, like cars and houses, but also perceived happiness. Why do we want what others have, and why, once we get it, are we not assuaged? This is not new – it has been said before in many ways and deep inside, we all know it, but putting it into practice requires an open heart, a steady soul and, most importantly, a willingness to believe in yourself.
When we start to question ourselves our inner health begins to diminish. It is fundamental to our emotional, and ultimately physical, wellbeing that we find ways to be happy with what we have and who we are. If that is impossible, then it is essential to find the courage to be able to make it something with which we will be appeased. I think I keep returning to this idea because it is so vital to an individual’s happiness, and also because it is a lesson I have learned firsthand.
To begin, we must look inward, and not at what is going on around us. Unless we are happy with our core being, nothing around us will make us happy negative energy will radiates back out. I am a prime example, so I speak from experience, unlike many others who are quick to give advice out, yet live by opposing rules.
For years, I experienced intense lack of self esteem – I was insecure and had no positive body image, even though looking back at pictures of myself I wasn’t overweight by any means. I would try over and over to ‘lose a couple pounds’ but never completely applied myself, and constantly believed that I wouldn’t be able to do it. So I remained the same size, and I just felt even worse. Many changes in my life slowly built up my inner confidence, but I always had niggling doubts inside that would not leave. You can have people telling you you are pretty, that you look OK, but if you doubt yourself, then it will never become a reality. There is no one turning point that I can look back at, but more of a general evolution of self that slowly transformed me. And maybe that was what worked. No immediate change can take place; you must be prepared to hunker down and commit to this decision.
This lifestyle change lead to a more confident me, no longer shy and reserved or hiding behind a quiet personality. I stopped worrying about what others thought of me, because chances were they weren’t even thinking about me at all. I became someone who was happy with what she had, not pining for what others had or what I thought I should have. This inner contentment has lead to an outer happiness that is quite apparent in my demeanor. I have been told I am more outgoing now, that I laugh more, that I exude a quiet confidence that belies the person I used to think I was.
It was not the easiest thing I have ever done, nor was it the most challenging, but I can say without doubt that it was one of the most gratifying changes I have come through, even though it resulted in the dissolution of my relationship . It gave me the courage to strike out on my own again after 14 years…
Somewhere along the way, I have come up with my own mantra:
Belief is powerful, belief in self is empowering.
When we start to question ourselves our inner health begins to diminish. It is fundamental to our emotional, and ultimately physical, wellbeing that we find ways to be happy with what we have and who we are. If that is impossible, then it is essential to find the courage to be able to make it something with which we will be appeased. I think I keep returning to this idea because it is so vital to an individual’s happiness, and also because it is a lesson I have learned firsthand.
To begin, we must look inward, and not at what is going on around us. Unless we are happy with our core being, nothing around us will make us happy negative energy will radiates back out. I am a prime example, so I speak from experience, unlike many others who are quick to give advice out, yet live by opposing rules.
For years, I experienced intense lack of self esteem – I was insecure and had no positive body image, even though looking back at pictures of myself I wasn’t overweight by any means. I would try over and over to ‘lose a couple pounds’ but never completely applied myself, and constantly believed that I wouldn’t be able to do it. So I remained the same size, and I just felt even worse. Many changes in my life slowly built up my inner confidence, but I always had niggling doubts inside that would not leave. You can have people telling you you are pretty, that you look OK, but if you doubt yourself, then it will never become a reality. There is no one turning point that I can look back at, but more of a general evolution of self that slowly transformed me. And maybe that was what worked. No immediate change can take place; you must be prepared to hunker down and commit to this decision.
This lifestyle change lead to a more confident me, no longer shy and reserved or hiding behind a quiet personality. I stopped worrying about what others thought of me, because chances were they weren’t even thinking about me at all. I became someone who was happy with what she had, not pining for what others had or what I thought I should have. This inner contentment has lead to an outer happiness that is quite apparent in my demeanor. I have been told I am more outgoing now, that I laugh more, that I exude a quiet confidence that belies the person I used to think I was.
It was not the easiest thing I have ever done, nor was it the most challenging, but I can say without doubt that it was one of the most gratifying changes I have come through, even though it resulted in the dissolution of my relationship . It gave me the courage to strike out on my own again after 14 years…
Somewhere along the way, I have come up with my own mantra:
Belief is powerful, belief in self is empowering.
Saturday, 2 June 2007
Guilty Pleasures
We all have them; and most of us indulge them from time to time, whether it be Häagen Dazs Ice Cream, M&M’s, expensive designer coffee, a new outfit/shoes we didn’t need, or a trip to a tropical destination. I used to wonder what I was hiding from as I snuck that bowl of ice cream after the kids went to bed, what could possibly happen if someone found out? It really didn’t matter, because guilty pleasures are just that, guilt –and we ironically try to hide it from the only person we can’t, ourselves, then mentally justify our actions.
I often wonder why something that gives you instant gratification also makes you feel bad afterwards. In most cases, the guilt arrives only after the deed is done. I ate too much food; I spent too much money etc. Looking at the root of guilt is where to start. If you are deriving pleasure from spending money, perhaps the initial step should be to seek out a similar activity from which you can extract the same pleasure at a lower cost. I’ve also read that binge eating can be linked to insecurity issues, and is being used to fill some other void in one’s life. Finding something else to put in that gaping hole, aside from food, can often be the solution.
I’ve learned there are several ways to deal with this:
-Develop a stronger willpower so you don’t succumb to these urges thus assuaging the guilt
-Let go of the guilt altogether – indulge, enjoy because once you don’t feel bad for enjoying something, the joy you feel while partaking will multiply.
But I am no psychologist – I write what I see, I write what I feel, and I write what I know inside. And what I know is that many things that used to rip me apart inside have been banished to my inner annals. The guilt is gone.
I run and I eat as much as I like.
I budget and buy the things that mean the most.
I sing in the car, I laugh out loud, I smile and talk to strangers.
And I sleep in the nude and dream in the rain. I am content.
I often wonder why something that gives you instant gratification also makes you feel bad afterwards. In most cases, the guilt arrives only after the deed is done. I ate too much food; I spent too much money etc. Looking at the root of guilt is where to start. If you are deriving pleasure from spending money, perhaps the initial step should be to seek out a similar activity from which you can extract the same pleasure at a lower cost. I’ve also read that binge eating can be linked to insecurity issues, and is being used to fill some other void in one’s life. Finding something else to put in that gaping hole, aside from food, can often be the solution.
I’ve learned there are several ways to deal with this:
-Develop a stronger willpower so you don’t succumb to these urges thus assuaging the guilt
-Let go of the guilt altogether – indulge, enjoy because once you don’t feel bad for enjoying something, the joy you feel while partaking will multiply.
But I am no psychologist – I write what I see, I write what I feel, and I write what I know inside. And what I know is that many things that used to rip me apart inside have been banished to my inner annals. The guilt is gone.
I run and I eat as much as I like.
I budget and buy the things that mean the most.
I sing in the car, I laugh out loud, I smile and talk to strangers.
And I sleep in the nude and dream in the rain. I am content.
Friday, 4 May 2007
Bliss (part 1)
True bliss is rare in life. It is a fortuneate individual who can claim they have experienced it in its basest form. To me bliss moments are those which are so captivating that they are branded into your memory bank so clearly that you can access them at any time. You can remember every detail of the moment with astounding clarity, and return to it over and over again in an instant.
These are occasions when I feel absolutely “complete” – and there is nowhere else I’d rather be at that particular moment in time…
This time the scene was set up thusly:
Setting: a cool, breezy August morning, slightly overcast with a greyish glow behind the clouds where the sun was hiding, a sand beach stretching roughly 2 miles in length, and me, the runner.
I woke early before anyone else was up, pulled on a pair of shorts and a running top, and, leaving my running shoes behind, quietly left the tent (which was pitched next to the beach). It had always been one of my fantasies to run barefoot on a beach, and I had been presented with just the opportunity that morning. I strapped on my MP3 player and set the volume low enough so I had the sounds of nature as my backdrop. I began to run…
At first I picked up the beat from a song I was listening to, but soon found my footfalls adjusting to the earth’s rhythm; the pounding waves coupled with my steady heartbeat. Stride after stride my world of stresses started slipping away. As I dropped them on the sand behind me and ran, the wind blew my hair, whipping it into my face.
Reaching one end of the beach I turned around to see the long ribbon of sand receding and curving around the bay, beckoning me. Starting back I could see the remains of my footprints, the impressions already beginning to be erased by the waves, veiling the fact that I was ever there, a secret shared by me and the earth. By the time I reached my original starting point, all evidence that I’d been there had disappeared. I’d gone through a unique experience, a ritual cleansing while the waves doused my sandy feet as I sprinted along.
What went through my mind was nothing short of complete and utter immersion of self into that moment:
I remember each step, how the hard packed sand felt as my foot landed, how it gave slightly in the drier parts, the almost too hard slap where the waves had pounded the surface down to a near-concrete hardness, and how I quickly learned where to place each foot for maximum effectiveness.
I remember the taste of the cool moist air as I inhaled each cleansing breath and how my slightly laboured exhalations were grabbed by the wind and tossed away with each passing gust. Even the slight residue from the Brugal Rum I had imbibed the night before mixed with the humid spray coming off the lake was pleasant as I concentrated on breathing in and breathing out.
I remember everything that went through my mind for those four all-too-short miles. I say “too short” because it was a feeling I’d wished could have gone on forever. Although I wonder if I had had more of a taste, would the memory would be as sweet? The way I see it, you have to leave still wanting more from the experience for if you completely satiate the hunger, if not the pangs may disappear.
I recall this particular morning clearly because it was a bliss moment. I can close my eyes and immediately return there, and I often do. There are other “bliss moments” which I will return to during the course of my writing, but be forewarned that many of them involve me and running, which in part explains why I am so devoted to this activity. If doing it can instill so many clear and beautiful memories, then it’s not something I’m wont to give up soon.
These are occasions when I feel absolutely “complete” – and there is nowhere else I’d rather be at that particular moment in time…
This time the scene was set up thusly:
Setting: a cool, breezy August morning, slightly overcast with a greyish glow behind the clouds where the sun was hiding, a sand beach stretching roughly 2 miles in length, and me, the runner.
I woke early before anyone else was up, pulled on a pair of shorts and a running top, and, leaving my running shoes behind, quietly left the tent (which was pitched next to the beach). It had always been one of my fantasies to run barefoot on a beach, and I had been presented with just the opportunity that morning. I strapped on my MP3 player and set the volume low enough so I had the sounds of nature as my backdrop. I began to run…
At first I picked up the beat from a song I was listening to, but soon found my footfalls adjusting to the earth’s rhythm; the pounding waves coupled with my steady heartbeat. Stride after stride my world of stresses started slipping away. As I dropped them on the sand behind me and ran, the wind blew my hair, whipping it into my face.
Reaching one end of the beach I turned around to see the long ribbon of sand receding and curving around the bay, beckoning me. Starting back I could see the remains of my footprints, the impressions already beginning to be erased by the waves, veiling the fact that I was ever there, a secret shared by me and the earth. By the time I reached my original starting point, all evidence that I’d been there had disappeared. I’d gone through a unique experience, a ritual cleansing while the waves doused my sandy feet as I sprinted along.
What went through my mind was nothing short of complete and utter immersion of self into that moment:
I remember each step, how the hard packed sand felt as my foot landed, how it gave slightly in the drier parts, the almost too hard slap where the waves had pounded the surface down to a near-concrete hardness, and how I quickly learned where to place each foot for maximum effectiveness.
I remember the taste of the cool moist air as I inhaled each cleansing breath and how my slightly laboured exhalations were grabbed by the wind and tossed away with each passing gust. Even the slight residue from the Brugal Rum I had imbibed the night before mixed with the humid spray coming off the lake was pleasant as I concentrated on breathing in and breathing out.
I remember everything that went through my mind for those four all-too-short miles. I say “too short” because it was a feeling I’d wished could have gone on forever. Although I wonder if I had had more of a taste, would the memory would be as sweet? The way I see it, you have to leave still wanting more from the experience for if you completely satiate the hunger, if not the pangs may disappear.
I recall this particular morning clearly because it was a bliss moment. I can close my eyes and immediately return there, and I often do. There are other “bliss moments” which I will return to during the course of my writing, but be forewarned that many of them involve me and running, which in part explains why I am so devoted to this activity. If doing it can instill so many clear and beautiful memories, then it’s not something I’m wont to give up soon.
Tuesday, 1 May 2007
Escape
Where does one go to escape? We have to face it; now that the days of our childhood are gone, days when we had long languorous hours to kill in the evenings and weekends, it’s like someone has snatched all those hours and replaced them with more things that absolutely need to get done. I haven’t yet deduced whether it’s a consequence of getting older, or just the evolution of our busy lives.
It is worthy to note that “escape” conveys that one has been held captive and perhaps we are interned by the lives we consciously choose to lead.
Regardless, we all need some ‘place’ to retreat to when the daily grind of life threatens to pull us down. Escape can come in many forms;
- inside yourself – into your thoughts
- inside sleep – into your dreams
- inside your domicile – to a quiet corner
- outside to commune with nature (I do this a lot when I am running).
It seems as if the older we get the more the world has sped up – we need to slow down and embrace simplicity. Escape can be as easy as stopping to watch children play, and remember how it’s done. (I run with a local Hash House Harriers group that has embraced the play aspect and it is a delightful relief to get ‘young’ for those few hours every week. We run, we jump, we hop streams, we play in puddles and we sing at the top of our lungs.) But it seems that as adults, we have to be able to give ourselves permission, and sometimes justification, to play.
Which begs the question, “Why?” Why do we need permission from ourselves?
It’s as if this is taboo – we will be looked at as irresponsible, - adults are not allowed to have fun anymore – we need to be able to laugh for the sake of laughter itself, not to laugh at someone else, which is all too often the case.
During the course of writing this, I let my mind lead my pen (most of these topics begin with a spiral notebook and a bunch of jottings before I take it near the computer). So it opened with what it wanted…this is where I ended up…
The name of my blog is indicative of my escapism fantasy - when I say “Lisa Takes Flight” I am flying in metaphorical ways, but nevertheless, I am up there somewhere, and I am enjoying the places my life is taking me. And even though in the past I’ve been accused of using my running to escape, as if I were running away from something, I have realized this comes from those who do not understand the mindset of this runner. I run to leave behing the phone calls, the e-mail messages, the dirty bathroom and the piles of sweaty running clothes laundry (although in the back of my brain I know by running I am contributing to this ever-growing pile). So many other fellow runners I speak to say that miles can go by and their mind drifts away, and when they are finished, they are refreshed. Essentially we go through life searching for something and many runners are so much more grounded because they actually have the time to find that vital component that keeps them that much more sane.
For my part, escape comes in purposely letting my mind go wherever it wants. If I cannot seek literal freedom from the dregs of everyday life, I will seek it in my thoughts and dreams. And yes, that is where my topics begin to take shape…
So…what’s next on the topic list? I’ll tell you after my run…
Wednesday, 11 April 2007
Letting Go...
I used to be a pack rat – saving, hoarding, and accumulating ‘things’. It didn’t seem to matter what those things were, I just didn’t like to throw stuff away. My bedroom in my parents’ home was lined with shelves of stuffed animals, some I’d had since I was a child, rows of cassette tapes – many of which I never even listened to, and my closet was packed with clothes that were too small (I might fit them again one day) too big (what if I have a ‘fat’ day?), or out of date (they may come back in style). I could not bring myself to get rid of anything.
Then something earth-shattering happened…we had a house fire.
Before the fire spread too far, I managed to throw some precious items out the window, including irreplaceable photographs, but by the time the fire had burnt its course, the vast majority of my ‘stuff’ was gone. Walking through the debris the next day was sobering. “This is what is left of my life”, I thought. What my parents and I had been able to save barely came to the top of the back of a half ton truck.
That was the beginning.
From that point on I vowed not to let myself get caught up in material items. Stuff bought is stuff that can be replaced. The real losses to me were the piles and piles of notebooks, poetry I had written and journals I had kept for years. You begin to put into perspective the things that mean the most to you, and what was important in this case was that no one died and no one got hurt.
Suddenly things become irrelevant.
Every six months I perform a ritual expunging – I choose one room and put on my ruthless hat. If I cannot leave the room without a garbage bag full of unnecessary items, then I have failed in my mission. To date, I have never failed. I do make deals with myself though. If there are items that I can’t bring myself to throw or give away, the deal is this: if I have gone another 6 months and not used the item, or referred to it, or even thought of it, it is to be released during the next “abolishment”.
But what about letting go of other elements? We tend to hang on to things that have outlived their purpose, people included. Friends come and go in our lives, but we still try to hang on to years old friendships that are no longer beneficial to either party, and instead, tend to act as excess baggage, dragging along like a weight behind you. How do you ‘discard’ friends? I tend to think in terms of reciprocation. If I have made a conscious effort to contact a person, and I receive no response, then I just let the person fall slowly off the radar. Because at that point, I consider it a mutual decision and I cannot be solely blamed for dropping the ball.
Letting go of guilt, worries, inhibitions, and fear becomes a little more complicated; these emotions are rooted in our inner core and difficult to leave behind – they are such a part of us that they become entangled and knotted in the fabric of our being. For some of us, they define who we are as humans. To perform an emotional purging takes a bit more courage. You have to be prepared to open yourself to scrutiny, and then discount it.
For me it is a daily and conscious effort. Up until recently, guilt had taken up a large part of my regular existence. By eventually realizing that this self-induced culpability was only injuring my own psyche, I was able to slowly chip away at it until it filled my mental refuse bin. I am doing similar things with worry, and fear. Inhibition is a little easier to leave behind, and the new-found freedom has opened up new avenues in both my personal life and my writing. I am able to say what I mean, without veiling my words with what I want others to hear.
My lesson learned (and continually learning) is that letting go can be mentally and physically liberating; kind of a weight loss of emotional proportions.
Then something earth-shattering happened…we had a house fire.
Before the fire spread too far, I managed to throw some precious items out the window, including irreplaceable photographs, but by the time the fire had burnt its course, the vast majority of my ‘stuff’ was gone. Walking through the debris the next day was sobering. “This is what is left of my life”, I thought. What my parents and I had been able to save barely came to the top of the back of a half ton truck.
That was the beginning.
From that point on I vowed not to let myself get caught up in material items. Stuff bought is stuff that can be replaced. The real losses to me were the piles and piles of notebooks, poetry I had written and journals I had kept for years. You begin to put into perspective the things that mean the most to you, and what was important in this case was that no one died and no one got hurt.
Suddenly things become irrelevant.
Every six months I perform a ritual expunging – I choose one room and put on my ruthless hat. If I cannot leave the room without a garbage bag full of unnecessary items, then I have failed in my mission. To date, I have never failed. I do make deals with myself though. If there are items that I can’t bring myself to throw or give away, the deal is this: if I have gone another 6 months and not used the item, or referred to it, or even thought of it, it is to be released during the next “abolishment”.
But what about letting go of other elements? We tend to hang on to things that have outlived their purpose, people included. Friends come and go in our lives, but we still try to hang on to years old friendships that are no longer beneficial to either party, and instead, tend to act as excess baggage, dragging along like a weight behind you. How do you ‘discard’ friends? I tend to think in terms of reciprocation. If I have made a conscious effort to contact a person, and I receive no response, then I just let the person fall slowly off the radar. Because at that point, I consider it a mutual decision and I cannot be solely blamed for dropping the ball.
Letting go of guilt, worries, inhibitions, and fear becomes a little more complicated; these emotions are rooted in our inner core and difficult to leave behind – they are such a part of us that they become entangled and knotted in the fabric of our being. For some of us, they define who we are as humans. To perform an emotional purging takes a bit more courage. You have to be prepared to open yourself to scrutiny, and then discount it.
For me it is a daily and conscious effort. Up until recently, guilt had taken up a large part of my regular existence. By eventually realizing that this self-induced culpability was only injuring my own psyche, I was able to slowly chip away at it until it filled my mental refuse bin. I am doing similar things with worry, and fear. Inhibition is a little easier to leave behind, and the new-found freedom has opened up new avenues in both my personal life and my writing. I am able to say what I mean, without veiling my words with what I want others to hear.
My lesson learned (and continually learning) is that letting go can be mentally and physically liberating; kind of a weight loss of emotional proportions.
Wednesday, 28 March 2007
Missed Opportunities
I’ve often thought the worst thing imaginable would be to go to my grave with regrets. Being human we will always have some doubts in our life, “I wish I would have said”, or “if only I had done…”… Regrets are funny things – they can perpetually haunt us, taunt us, or make us want things that have been deemed unreachable.
We have only one go around at this thing called life. I had purposely put myself on the sidelines for too many years already. It was time to start doing the things I’d always wished I had done. To begin, I started telling my parents that I loved them. Looking back, I’m not exactly sure when that stopped. Likely in the early years of teenage angst, when I felt tortured and insecure, and awkward in my own body. I remember times when I would not walk with my parents into a store for fear of being labeled (what?) by my friends. Or times when I missed out on amazing possibilities because I feared failure, or embarrassment. That is guilt I live with. The years I rebelled, blatantly ignoring wise and sage advice because of course, I was right. The egocentrism inherent in the teenage brain is baffling to those gazing at it from the outside. It is akin to wearing blinders in a snowstorm – seeing nothing beside you and even less in front. I forged sightlessly ahead because I was too self-absorbed to even consider the cost. Yet at the time, I can’t help but wonder, would I have regretted not following my adolescent nature…?
I think with age comes not only maturity but the realization that life is not infinite. When you are young, it is easy to fall into the trap of believing that you are invincible. Days have no end and actions have no immediate consequences. But once that proverbial brick hits you in the head, you start to become conscious of your mortality and begin questioning each choice you make. Is it the right one for me, right now? Each time I make a decision, I stop, and take a deeper look at what I am resolving to do. If I pass up this opportunity, will there be another chance? It is said that for every door that closes, another one opens, but there is no guarantee that the same prize lies behind both.
I would like to be able to say that I did all I could to live my life without compunction. For the most part, I know I have tried hard, and moreso as I grow older; but there have been times when the choice has been taken from me. These are the most difficult to swallow because those helpless “what ifs” remain harbored inside. I tuck them away knowing I will be left wondering for the rest of my life, but perhaps now they have become someone else’s regrets.
We have only one go around at this thing called life. I had purposely put myself on the sidelines for too many years already. It was time to start doing the things I’d always wished I had done. To begin, I started telling my parents that I loved them. Looking back, I’m not exactly sure when that stopped. Likely in the early years of teenage angst, when I felt tortured and insecure, and awkward in my own body. I remember times when I would not walk with my parents into a store for fear of being labeled (what?) by my friends. Or times when I missed out on amazing possibilities because I feared failure, or embarrassment. That is guilt I live with. The years I rebelled, blatantly ignoring wise and sage advice because of course, I was right. The egocentrism inherent in the teenage brain is baffling to those gazing at it from the outside. It is akin to wearing blinders in a snowstorm – seeing nothing beside you and even less in front. I forged sightlessly ahead because I was too self-absorbed to even consider the cost. Yet at the time, I can’t help but wonder, would I have regretted not following my adolescent nature…?
I think with age comes not only maturity but the realization that life is not infinite. When you are young, it is easy to fall into the trap of believing that you are invincible. Days have no end and actions have no immediate consequences. But once that proverbial brick hits you in the head, you start to become conscious of your mortality and begin questioning each choice you make. Is it the right one for me, right now? Each time I make a decision, I stop, and take a deeper look at what I am resolving to do. If I pass up this opportunity, will there be another chance? It is said that for every door that closes, another one opens, but there is no guarantee that the same prize lies behind both.
I would like to be able to say that I did all I could to live my life without compunction. For the most part, I know I have tried hard, and moreso as I grow older; but there have been times when the choice has been taken from me. These are the most difficult to swallow because those helpless “what ifs” remain harbored inside. I tuck them away knowing I will be left wondering for the rest of my life, but perhaps now they have become someone else’s regrets.
Friday, 16 March 2007
On being a fake…
I have been a computer programmer for 5 years, a runner for 8, and a mother for 10. When people ask me what I do or to describe myself, I tell them, but a small part of me feels guilty, because I am a fake. I have been fooling my employer all this time, I really don’t know what I am doing when I tie up my shoes, and for some reason beyond my comprehension at the time, I was errantly allowed to bring a newborn baby home from the hospital.
Of course none of this is true; the SQL I run returns accurate results and the programs I code don’t crash, I have run a Boston Qualifying marathon, and I have managed to raise two well-behaved, intelligent and polite children; so why do I feel this way?
Perhaps it stems from the disparity in how our mind ages compared to our body. We have no control over how quickly our body grows old – it is purely nature driven and, regardless of how good our genes are, we all eventually get old. We will fight this until the bitter end with miracle herbs and magic age-defying lotions but the truth remains that most of us will not see our 90th birthday.
Our minds, however, are a different story. How many times have you seen a middle aged man, after a failed attempt to complete some physical exploit, doubled over in pain whilst clutching an injured body part, mumbling, “I guess I’m not 25 anymore!”? Our psyches are easily swayed. Youth seems to have a powerful allure that we hungrily track down like bloodhounds. Many adults are just plain scared of growing up – the obligations that come with experience are daunting, and it is easy to shelter yourself underneath the pretext of immaturity. We have all exploited youthful ignorance as an excuse at one time or another.
So while I am 43 on the outside, my inner self clings to the insecure and vulnerable person I was at 19; the person who was just starting to test the unfathomable waters of maturity. No matter how much I have changed, it refuses to let go of her, and it chastises her for trying to be something that she is not. I have spent countless years confronting these inner demons, and arguing against my own perceived beliefs. Unfortunately, to win this battle also means to succumb to the truth that I am no longer 19 without responsibility, but fully accountable for my actions. So I harbour this secret, and find myself periodically casting doubt on my abilities.
In the end it is preferable for me to have this occasional dubiousness rather than appear too confident. Believing I am intermittently fraudulent keeps me from being too presumptuous, and compels me to constantly strive for personal betterment. Its acceptable to believe I’m fake now and then, and I’m okay with that...
Of course none of this is true; the SQL I run returns accurate results and the programs I code don’t crash, I have run a Boston Qualifying marathon, and I have managed to raise two well-behaved, intelligent and polite children; so why do I feel this way?
Perhaps it stems from the disparity in how our mind ages compared to our body. We have no control over how quickly our body grows old – it is purely nature driven and, regardless of how good our genes are, we all eventually get old. We will fight this until the bitter end with miracle herbs and magic age-defying lotions but the truth remains that most of us will not see our 90th birthday.
Our minds, however, are a different story. How many times have you seen a middle aged man, after a failed attempt to complete some physical exploit, doubled over in pain whilst clutching an injured body part, mumbling, “I guess I’m not 25 anymore!”? Our psyches are easily swayed. Youth seems to have a powerful allure that we hungrily track down like bloodhounds. Many adults are just plain scared of growing up – the obligations that come with experience are daunting, and it is easy to shelter yourself underneath the pretext of immaturity. We have all exploited youthful ignorance as an excuse at one time or another.
So while I am 43 on the outside, my inner self clings to the insecure and vulnerable person I was at 19; the person who was just starting to test the unfathomable waters of maturity. No matter how much I have changed, it refuses to let go of her, and it chastises her for trying to be something that she is not. I have spent countless years confronting these inner demons, and arguing against my own perceived beliefs. Unfortunately, to win this battle also means to succumb to the truth that I am no longer 19 without responsibility, but fully accountable for my actions. So I harbour this secret, and find myself periodically casting doubt on my abilities.
In the end it is preferable for me to have this occasional dubiousness rather than appear too confident. Believing I am intermittently fraudulent keeps me from being too presumptuous, and compels me to constantly strive for personal betterment. Its acceptable to believe I’m fake now and then, and I’m okay with that...
Thursday, 8 March 2007
To Feel…
Recently I have gone through many changes in my life, and although there have been difficult choices to make; the ultimate payout has definitely been worth the pain. The biggest change seems to be the surge of emotions and feelings, a welcome change from the cold detachment I had been experiencing for so long.
“To Feel” separates us from all other creatures on this earth. Should it matter what we feel, as long as we are feeling something? To most people, it does matter. However, the very essence of being human dictates that we must have all emotions, and not just the pleasant ones. There must be a purpose to emotions, otherwise why would they be ingrained in us from birth? Perhaps the purpose of sadness is to put happiness in perspective, and vice versa. Without the opposing emotion, all feelings would be completely out of context. How can we fully acknowledge the power of forgiveness without the anger that precedes it? Or the clarity that comes after confusion? Even the euphoria of love necessitates the balancing pain of heartbreak for the owner to appreciate what he had. And to argue the unfairness of this condition, only solidifies our emotional indignation. We cannot avoid feeling, although we can suppress it. But as hard as we may try to bury it, it will always be a part of our human makeup, and until the day we die, we will feel, something.
I still marvel at what triggered this sudden deluge of my own emotions, and perhaps I will never fully understand. But I discovered an added benefit to hiding underneath a mask. The moment I became unveiled, the emotions that had remained dormant for so long, were sweeter than ever. Happiness, gratitude, contentment, and even anger, appeared to take on a life of their own, with seemingly their own colours and reactions. It felt like I was emerging from a complete and utter darkness to watch fireworks in a clear night sky – each blast inimitable, each explosion beautiful in its uniqueness. For me, anything is preferable than emotional disconnect, and I will take the good with the bad, because I am feeling…
“To Feel” separates us from all other creatures on this earth. Should it matter what we feel, as long as we are feeling something? To most people, it does matter. However, the very essence of being human dictates that we must have all emotions, and not just the pleasant ones. There must be a purpose to emotions, otherwise why would they be ingrained in us from birth? Perhaps the purpose of sadness is to put happiness in perspective, and vice versa. Without the opposing emotion, all feelings would be completely out of context. How can we fully acknowledge the power of forgiveness without the anger that precedes it? Or the clarity that comes after confusion? Even the euphoria of love necessitates the balancing pain of heartbreak for the owner to appreciate what he had. And to argue the unfairness of this condition, only solidifies our emotional indignation. We cannot avoid feeling, although we can suppress it. But as hard as we may try to bury it, it will always be a part of our human makeup, and until the day we die, we will feel, something.
I still marvel at what triggered this sudden deluge of my own emotions, and perhaps I will never fully understand. But I discovered an added benefit to hiding underneath a mask. The moment I became unveiled, the emotions that had remained dormant for so long, were sweeter than ever. Happiness, gratitude, contentment, and even anger, appeared to take on a life of their own, with seemingly their own colours and reactions. It felt like I was emerging from a complete and utter darkness to watch fireworks in a clear night sky – each blast inimitable, each explosion beautiful in its uniqueness. For me, anything is preferable than emotional disconnect, and I will take the good with the bad, because I am feeling…
Tuesday, 6 March 2007
What's Next She Asks Herself?
Well, A1A Fort Lauderdale Marathon is over...and frankly, I am a little taken aback. My goal for 2007 was to run a Boston qualifying marathon and then hopefully go to Boston in 2008. I achieved that goal on February 18th of this year. So now what?!?!
Don't get me wrong, I am not disappointed. I am just now left with a blank slate for the coming year, with so many options staring at me that I'm not sure where to begin. There are some smaller races between now and June, when I plan to run the Manitoba Marathon, but after that I'm still not sure. The pressure is definitely off me now, and a part of me is leaping around like a kid on Christmas.
I plan to explore my race options, training, and maybe some travel in my future. You never know what will take flight over the next 12 months.
Don't get me wrong, I am not disappointed. I am just now left with a blank slate for the coming year, with so many options staring at me that I'm not sure where to begin. There are some smaller races between now and June, when I plan to run the Manitoba Marathon, but after that I'm still not sure. The pressure is definitely off me now, and a part of me is leaping around like a kid on Christmas.
I plan to explore my race options, training, and maybe some travel in my future. You never know what will take flight over the next 12 months.
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