Lisa Takes Flight

What if…?

2009-08-31T15:01:00.000-05:00

As I walked the final block to my office building this morning the thought went through my mind, “What if I had walked on the other side of the street?” Could something as insignificant as choosing to walk on one side of the street versus the other have any impact on the big picture in life? Many movies have been made that show the completely different paths that a person’s life could have taken, had they made one decision over another. And if you believe that fate is in control of our destiny then it can be argued that no matter what path you take, what decision you make, the outcome will always be the same.

The question “What if…?” comes up often when people have been involved in accidents or occasions of bad luck; “What if I had left for work 5 minutes earlier?” or “What if I’d gone back to check if the stove was still on?”

I think one of my recurring “What ifs” goes back to my marriage. I was out running the other day and while I run, I think…a lot. I was reflecting on how happy I have been recently. I have someone in my life who supports me without question. When I first began running, around 10 years ago now, my husband at the time begrudgingly accepted it into our lives. But as time wore on, and my first half marathon came and went, and I decided that I wanted to attempt a full, the begrudging acceptance turned into minor resentment. I was told that the long training runs I did were taking away from ‘family time’, even though I scheduled these runs early on Saturday mornings long before the rest of the family were even thinking about waking up. I was made to feel like a selfish person, sacrificing my family for my fitness and my race goals, even though deep inside I knew this not to be the case. The person I was back then was guilted easily. I cut back on runs that I knew I needed so I would be there to make breakfast for the family. Deep down I knew that this was a ploy, but I could not bring myself to do otherwise.

Then I wondered…what if I left…?

I used to think it rude to leave in the middle of a movie, or stop part way through a book – as though you were personally insulting the author by not finishing, so I plodded through plotless books and movies that didn’t interest me beyond the first ten minutes.

But after a period of stagnation I realized that life was too short to be wasted watching movies that no longer interested me, or reading books where the plot sizzled out somewhere around page 237, or remaining a marriage that not only no longer fulfilled me, but saddened me. I was accused of giving up, of not trying hard enough, but when I weighed the cost of the fight, over the benefit of a clear conscience, there was no choice to be made – it was already done – I just didn’t know it.

So I left…Because I could do nothing else.
And maybe it just hit me one day
That I could just get up and walk out…

The funny thing is since I left I’ve sometimes wondered…what if I stayed?

Grinning from ear to ear…

2009-05-21T13:21:00.001-05:00

There’s never anything wrong with shaking it up a little, and I recently have done just that. I took my first steps, or perhaps I should say my first pedals, on a bona fide mountain bike. I really only have one thing to say about this, WooHoo!

Ok, I have ridden bikes for most of my life. I learned how to ride as a child when my grandfather sat me on a bicycle and pushed me down a hill. It was a sink or swim (aka ride or fall down) reaction, and before I knew it I was riding all around my grandparents’ farm that summer. My parents had bought me my first bike, a blue SuperCycle, earlier that year, but because I couldn’t ride it yet, stared longingly at it until I returned from my summer vacation. I upgraded quickly to an orange three speed bike, high tech for its day. Bikes came and went over the years but I stayed on the road and the sidewalk, never venturing much farther off the beaten path.

I purchased my first bike in Winnipeg when I moved there in 1989, a fully rigid Yokota Ahwanee hybrid, and still have the bike, 20 years later. It is heavy and cumbersome to lug up and down the stairs, but it has taken me through numerous adventure races, and many hundreds of miles. I have gotten my money and more back from the bike, and it still holds a very special place in my life, as I still ride it on a regular basis.

But when I found an enthusiastic cycling partner who introduced me to off-road biking, combined with a nice income tax refund, I knew it was time to take the next step. The Yokota, unfortunately, is not bike enough to tackle trails, so I began shopping for a something that could. That “something” came in the form of a Giant TranceX4. Knowing absolutely nothing about bikes made it a challenge, but advice flew at me from all angles, and before long I was immersed in bike-speak. I learned the difference between a soft-tail, hard-tail and dual suspension, could understand V-brakes versus disc versus hydraulic disc. And fortunately, I was able to get my wish list for the price I had planned to pay.

Being an avid runner I was not prepared for the intense burn that came with the short hill-climbing bursts, and I was definitely surprised to find that trees are more difficult to out-maneuver when you are approaching them at ‘faster-than-running’ speed. But I laugh when I fall down and I get up and continue on. It has been a wonderful break from running, and I have met some great people who are more than happy to share advice and insults. This group thinks “It’s funny until someone gets hurt, then it’s hilarious!” and “If you are not hurting after a day of biking, you must be road riding.” I love their attitudes and the positive vibes I get when around them. There is no competition, only camaraderie.

So I am currently preparing for a weekend of MTBing near Minaki Ontario. I am excited and pleased that I have found other interests that challenge me like running has. I’m off to leave a little DNA on trail!

Routinely breaking routine…

2009-04-17T14:57:00.000-05:00

Routines can be comforting, but if we begin to rely on them completely, it is very easy to become boring, stagnant and stuck. Some people get too attached and then find they are unable to break free and the once reassuring routine becomes an obsessive hindrance that cannot be discarded as easily as shrugging off a jacket. It literally becomes a part of who they are as a person, and how they start to classify themselves. We need to be able to characterize ourselves by who we are inside more than by what we do outside.

Some routines are useful and can serve a purpose. My mornings are carefully choreographed to allow me time to drop off my children and get to work. It’s been broken every now and then due to an alarm not going off, or a snooze button pressed one too many times. On those rushed days, when I am scrambling, and my schedule goes out the window, so does my well ordered morning. I have forgotten to brush my teeth some days (thank goodness for a spare in my desk drawer!) and have wondered why there is no coffee in the pot because in my haste I didn’t fill the reservoir when I turned it on. But these little blips serve to show me how useful some daily habits can be. Some you just cannot break without consequence, like being at work on time. However, I have learned that others are accommodating, if you are willing to bend a little.

That’s where some lose it - being unwilling to flex. People say they simply have no choice, when actually they do. But the choice is between doing something, period, or not doing it at all. And that is where we differ. I have been a single mom for the last three years. I have my kids half time, makes it challenging to fit in training runs. So an after-work scheduled eight mile tempo can quickly become abbreviated to four or five to allow myself time to pick them up. But five is infinitely better than zero, so I take what I can get. At least I am willing to acknowledge it. Then there are times when it is just not possible to get out and run at all, and I accept that. Those days are used for weights and core training at home. There are people who would give up long before they hit the first obstacle and I feel sorry for them.

Each January I look at people who make New Year’s resolutions that end up shattered before the month is out. Most people don’t realize that before a habit can be formed you must repeat the action at least 21 times. Many people don’t make it past four or five. Just knowing that little fact makes it easier to form a plan, if indeed that is your honest intention. Once you have established your routine, only then should you begin to modify it. The willingness to adapt comes with making priorities in your life. Once that is sorted out, it all becomes easy. I like being the willow in the wind – I’m good at bending, and I’m not broken yet.

Putting it all out there…

2009-04-06T13:49:00.000-05:00

I had always been afraid of speaking to a crowd – even if I knew everyone there. To present in front of my class, even as recently as six years ago nearly paralyzed me. All that changed when I joined a social running club. Our head was leaving and asked me to get involved; General consensus agreed, and I reluctantly stepped up into a position that utterly terrified me. I was expected to take control and speak in front of this group of people at each gathering, which differed in general makeup from week to week.

The first time I blatantly stuttered and left long empty pauses. Peoples’ expectant gazes as they waited for me to continue made my palms sweat. My heart skipped so many beats that I am sure I used up a couple months of my life in that short hour. I could barely meet anyone’s eyes, and I was positive they were all laughing at me inside. At the end of the first week I silently regretted the moment I agreed to take on this role. I was not cut out for such a visible position and I wondered how I could politely extract myself and just blend back into the group where I’d felt the most comfortable, because there no one noticed me, and there no one looked at me and I was used to that.

Ironically, it was my reluctance to say anything to anyone about how ill at ease I felt that kept me in that position, week after week. As I became more and more easy with the routine I found myself relaxing and my issues with speaking in front of a crowd began to fade, even if only with these people. If I had been given the choice or the means to change my mind, I’m sure I’d still be sweaty palmed and pale each time I opened my mouth with more than five people present.

Since that point, and on a daily basis, I try to initiate interactions with people, even if I feel shy or uncomfortable. I find the more I push myself, the easier things get. It doesn’t take a confident person to stand up in front of a group of people, but by doing so you will end up cultivating that confidence. To set yourself up for the possibility of failure, rejection or embarrassment requires a certain amount of courage. We all have it in some measure. In the end it doesn’t matter whether you succeed or not, what matters is you tried. Because it is just too easy to give up. You can hide and play it safe, and dig yourself deeper into your comfort zone or you can choose to take that leap, and experience the heart pounding rush that is often confused with fear: Exhilarating in its own right!

The Return

2009-03-17T11:20:00.001-05:00

After neglecting this site for too long I return to my insights, re-energized, rejuvenated and ready to jump back into the words I have left behind while life has taken me in a different direction.

Today I am feeling almost re-born. I think when we do things for ourselves, taking time not to be selfish, but for self, we emerge on the other side with fresh perspective, positive outlook and ideas that didn’t exist before. That is how I feel right now. I want to take on the world and throw my words to the wolves. I want them to devour them and ask for more. I want to expose myself…right down to the naked core of my being so it is apparent that I have given all I have to give. I want to be judged fairly and impartially. I want to dig deeper for meaning, and actually find it.

Many things have transpired since my last post. The details are not important, but the end-result is that I have actually listened to myself, and followed through with what I told myself I would do. I am in a stronger and somehow more spiritual place. It is calm here, and I am happy.

There are many things I want to do and to have, and I know with time, with belief and with action, they will be mine. But in order for that to happen, I have to be strong, and I have to be firm and most of all, I have to believe in myself. Right now, that’s not such a big task. Until later!

Turning 40…

2008-10-28T12:16:00.000-05:00

…can be traumatic if you are not mentally prepared for the experience.

I vividly remember the day I turned 40. Oddly I wasn’t at all worried or concerned about entering a new decade, and had actually pinned a small sign on my cubicle wall that said, “I’m not 40, I’m 18 with 22 years experience!” I was actually looking forward to “starting the next ten” fresh and with a new attitude. That was foreshadowing at its best, and also better told in another topic.

I want to dedicate this topic to fabulous 40, and all those women in my life who have gracefully glided into this new age of elegance, maturity and extreme confidence. An e-mail circulated some time ago about how women age. As they get older they become more self-assured while men seem to do the opposite and hit their mid-life crisis early. Women embrace it, while men evade it.

I think when I turned 40 I became a woman in my own eyes, as opposed to the girl I’d always seen myself as. Getting married, having children, pursuing a career still didn’t convince me that I was all grown up. But the click of time into a new decade suddenly made it possible for me to see that there was a self-possessed woman underneath that once scared little girl.

Someone very special to me recently made the transition to her 40th year. This person in particular has overtaken this decade with more grace than I could ever begin to muster. With the dawning of the day she has claimed this decade as her own. I’ve always admired her elegance and easy-going effortless way of doing things. She attacks each day with a gusto that most people would envy. Things seem to flow around her, even when stress threatens to close in. She has a magical way of putting things right. Her seemingly unhurried ways and precision of plans show an intense amount of internal strategy, yet she does not crack at the seams. She is successful and poised in her career which has yet to ascend to the heights she deserves. If I were to name a poster-child for turning 40, she would be framed on my wall. Anyone reading this who is dreading the big 4-0, and thinks that this is where it ends should take a page out of her book.

And speaking of books, Mary Kay and Arnold Patent both had it right…”You Can Have it All”. You just have to decide what it is you want, and not be afraid to go after it. 40 is a glorious time in your life. Don’t waste it.

Going Wireless

2008-09-12T10:42:00.000-05:00

It seems that everywhere you go these days people are connected to some sort of communications system, either by cell-phone, blackberry, computer, etc. There seem to be more and more places where you can ‘plug’ into networks of some sort either via cable or through wifi. It is almost a given that hotels and coffee houses offer a wireless network to their customers, and those who don’t, are seeing business drift away in favour of ones that do.

Why have we become so reliant on technology and conveniences?

As a child of the 70’s the only phones we had were attached to the walls with wires – we were unable to take the phone farther than the cord would reach, which enabled our parents to eavesdrop, not because they wanted to but because they had no choice…phones were usually in the kitchen because that was where most families congregated. Televisions were plugged in and reception depended on which way the rabbit ears were turned. It seemed complex at the time, but upon reflection quite primitive now. There were no computers that the average family could anticipate the need for or even afford. Portable music meant taking your tape player outside. Walkmans were still a few years away.

Today it isn’t unusual to own more than one mechanism linking you to the world, and even less remarkable to have all those devices on your person at the same time.

But say you are looking to get away from it all – unhooking yourself from the harness of the world wide web and free falling into a non-wired world. There are very few places nowadays where you can’t pick up some sort of signal or connection to the outside world, and even then, satellite phones take up where others leave off.

To become truly disconnected you must take the first step and physically “disable” yourself.
I often go running with nothing in hand save a bottle of water. Sure, I could strap on a Garmin and log each and every detail of every meter I cover, and there are some days where that comes in very handy. I could also clip my phone to my waistband to make sure that I am reachable no matter where I go or what I do – and again, there are times when that is undeniable; some would say even mandatory.

So I savour the times when I can leave it all behind…literally. Unencumbered and free from electronic devices I suddenly become purposely lost and untraceable to everyone in the world. The prospect may seem terrifying to some who need that connection to civilization on a 24-7 basis, but for me, escape into the wire-free world of bygone days is oddly refreshing. I try to disconnect on a regular basis, for it gives me perspective on why I am here, and what my ultimate objective in life is. It also keeps me from becoming dependent on items that tend to make life more complicated and demanding. There are very few things that are so important that require one to drop everything immediately. Sometimes a little time to reflect on why you need something so badly can help you realize that waiting an hour or a day won’t mean the end of the world, and could possibly encourage you to find the answers yourself. Self-reflection and conscious deliberation can do much further inspiration in all of us. Unplug, separate and disengage yourself once in a while. You may be surprised at how much you like it.

Little White or Big Fat…True Lies

2008-05-13T11:41:00.000-05:00

The question isn’t whether or not you have lied. Let’s face it; we have all lied in some capacity at some point in our lives. The severity of the lie is where the lines become fuzzy and the questions begin to trickle in…how big is too big? Will it hurt the intended? Why are we fixated on it?

I won’t lie, I have lied. Many times. And for various reasons; some of them include not wanting to hurt someone else’s feelings, not wanting to get into explaining my own feelings, and probably the most common lie, the lie of omission. I have also lied for purely selfish reasons. Saying I am busy when I have absolutely nothing planned.

Most people don’t even think twice about it, and there are others who do it so regularly that it just becomes part of their daily discourse. During the course of writing this blog I did some research about lying and discovered that although men and women lie roughly the same amount, the types of lies they tell are diametrically opposite. Women most often lie to save someone else’s emotions and make that person feel better. When men lie, it is most often done to make themselves look better. When it comes to children, their lies are told solely to protect their own skin, (“No, I didn’t eat the last cookie.”).

People tell lies on a daily basis, and the most common method used for delivering lies are the telephone and through text messages. People can’t see your eyes or read your expression so lying is easier. For me, that “rings” true. I tend to be truthful more often in a face-to-face situation. But when asked to be, I will be honest, even if I know it will hurt.

It almost appears that we, as humans, are quite the deceitful bunch. But consider this: if you were to be absolutely truthful, 100% of the time, how many feelings would you hurt? And to flip it around, would you want people to be completely honest with you about everything? Sometimes a little ego boost feels good, even if you know it isn’t fact. I think we also lie to ourselves on occasion because of that, even if we are entirely cognizant of the fact that we are only hurting ourselves. Humans have become very good at ignoring what is directly in front of them. It takes a mentally strong individual to be continually honest with him or herself.

I fall into the group that feels intense amounts of guilt upon telling a lie. I also live in fear of being found out, so it’s not something I am comfortable doing on a regular basis. Besides, after so many lies it would be very easy to get caught up in the proverbial web. It’s much easier to keep track of the truth. So I try to keep my untruths as close as I possibly can to actual fact….true lies so to speak.

Mergers and Layoffs and what’s in Between

2008-04-30T12:26:00.001-05:00

When a patient resides in palliative care, effort is usually taken to make the person’s last days as comfortable as possible. It is truly unfortunate that the same consideration is not taken in other, similar situations. A couple months ago, my company was in the final stages of restructuring and although neither I nor my co-workers were facing the end of our lives, we were, in a sense, facing the slow inevitable death of our jobs.

The company where we were employed had been acquired by a hostile takeover. What ensued was a mass exodus as many people scrambled to find other jobs. Once the dust had cleared, those of us remaining looked around and took stock. We were the ones who had decided to continue until the end. Knowing that we would be jobless in mere months was not an easy realization. To the new company we became the expendable ones.

We reluctantly settled in and tried to remain proud and positive. A new dress code was implemented with less than four months left. For most people it seemed ridiculous and unnecessary. Vacations were limited, coffee breaks were monitored and appointments were scrutinized. It felt like the entire department was slowly eroding. We became stressed, worried and had a difficult time concentrating. Instead of adhering to the new rules, many people began to push them to the limit. It was almost like watching an unintentional social experiment. One wonders why we even bothered to stay.

Many of us owed the new company no allegiance at all, but stayed because we felt loyal to each other. What remained of the old corporation, as it was slowly assimilated, were relationships with our co-workers, past and present. Had it not been for the many others surrounding us, who were in the same situation, it would have been much harder getting through the last month. If the new company had not been so focused on the bottom line or how they looked to the press, they would have seen that the rules they had set to increase productivity were actually having the opposite effect.

To cope, I turned it into a learning experience. I took two important things away from this. The first thing was how you cannot underestimate the importance of camaraderie among your co-workers. I had read articles that said caring co-workers were the number one reason for job satisfaction. I can personally attest to this. The second thing I took away was how not to treat a group of potentially loyal employees. There is no easier way of alienating your people than by suddenly changing, for the worse, the environment on which they depend and have become most comfortable. Employees should be treated as the assets and investments they are rather than expenses, regardless of how long they will be there, because the only thing worse than losing a happy employee is keeping an unhappy one.

Frozen Motivation

2008-01-30T14:31:00.000-06:00

It’s tough being a Winnipegger in the middle of a frigid January winter and training for a spring marathon. Options are few, opportunities are fewer.

A couple weeks ago, with the weather forecasting a windchill nearing -43 degrees Celsius I took up the offer of my brother and his wife’s treadmill. I figured I needed some kind of carrot to keep me going so I stopped at the video store on my way over to pick up two of the Jason Bourne movies. Starting the first one I mentally vowed to pause the movie each time I took a break and not allow myself to watch the movie unless I was actually running. Not being a great treadmill runner it took me about 30 minutes to find my “tread-legs”. Then off I went. I broke it up into 15 minute intervals between which I would stop and grab a big gulp of water, and wipe the sweat off my body, and step back on for another 15 minutes. This was the only way I could get myself through this tortuous and grueling ordeal. It was the slowest 2 hours of my life and it felt like the longest marathon I had ever run.

Flash forward to a week later, the only difference was that the windchill this time was a mere -30 degrees Celcius. I decided to take this one outdoors because the thought of another 2 hours running in the exact same spot was giving me chills and I hadn’t even stepped out of my door. Two and a half hours later I bounded up the stairs to my apartment, feeling buoyant and energetic, despite having run 15 miles on snowy packed trails.

For days afterwards I wondered why the opposing difference in experiences. One would think that running indoors, unencumbered by two pairs of pants, four top layers, a neck warmer, toque, and double mitts would be freeing. Instead I had found myself labouring and watching the treadmill countdown (more than I watched the movie) and timing when I could jump off and have a quick break. Oddly, during my outdoor run I ran 45 minutes straight before stopping to grab a drink of water at the park skating shelter before heading out for my next 5 miles. I felt neither as tired nor needed much of a break.

I think watching the scenery pass me by as I run outdoors is what gets me through these long runs. I can actually see my motivators up in the distance. “I will run to the railroad tracks”. “I will run through the park.” “I will run around the golf course.” For me these are more concrete than, “I will run for 15 minutes”. And that is why I am not a treadmill runner. I appreciated the opportunity to run indoors in insulated comfort. But I think I will choose the mild discomfort of the cold if it means the time will pass more quickly.

Besides winter will not last forever, and each of these cold runs means one less as April approaches. I have learned that I can be stubborn and a lot stronger than I give myself credit for most of the time. And I just think of the character I build each time I walk out the door for another long one. We Winnipeg runners are full of it…character that is…!

The Mind’s Age

2008-01-09T13:52:00.000-06:00

Listening to Shelagh Rogers interview Douglas Copeland on CBC radio one morning really got my creative writing spark heated up. I wanted to leave work that day and head off to a coffee ship to write for the rest of the day. Some day my words will make me money, but until that happens, they’ll just have to make me happy.

Today’s brainstorm deals with age and perception, something the two speakers touched on in their captivating discourse. We all have a specific concrete number that defines the years we have lived on this planet. We also have a more abstract number. More specifically, this alternative number defines who we think and feel we are inside. If you were to close your eyes and relax and think about how old you really feel, the chances are the number will be less than your actual age. We all have our ‘mental’ age and each person’s differs for their own reasons. The two radio personalities postulated that our mental age was one at which we felt the most happy with ourselves and our life at that time.

I’d never gone much past 30. For me, 30 was an ideal age – still young enough to be forgiven for my frivolities, yet sufficiently mature to be taken seriously on most levels. Recently though, my mental age is beginning to catch up with my physical one.

Before I turned 40 I dreaded the prospect of hitting middle age. It loomed in front of me and I had visions of suddenly becoming ‘old’. Until I decided to attack it back with the same ferocity with which I was allowing it to control me. Suddenly I had become empowered. By taking jurisdiction of it, complete with fighting stance and “bring it on” attitude, I turned this pivotal milestone into a memorable and enviable event. My ideal age of 30 transformed overnight to 40. If I willingly take into account that my mental age reflects the time I was the happiest, then my two ages have melded, and are continuing to meld as I keep aging, into one. Perhaps growing older is not so bad when you consider the benefit of maturity and expanded knowledge base combined with the freedom to answer only to yourself.

I still have days when I feel like I am back in high school, but am quite thankful that those days are long behind me. I think it all comes down to the quote by Mohammed Ali, “Age is whatever you think it is. You are as old as you think you are.” For me, as long as I am happy, I am happy with my age.

Reflecting…

2007-12-20T08:23:00.000-06:00

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.

Dirty Laundry

2007-11-20T16:31:00.000-06:00

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.)

Pure Passion

2007-11-05T15:11:00.000-06:00

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.

In all seriousness…no really…

2007-10-24T14:09:00.000-05:00

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.
:)

Doing Something Right…

2007-10-19T09:15:00.000-05:00

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.

On the Periphery

2007-10-04T15:07:00.000-05:00

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.

A Defining Moment

2007-10-01T14:46:00.000-05:00

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.

Questioning that which cannot be questioned

2007-09-27T12:12:00.000-05:00

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.

Doing what I do…but not the best…

2007-09-27T11:49:00.000-05:00

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.

Putting it all into Perspective

2007-09-10T12:45:00.000-05:00

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.”

One Year Ago...

2007-08-23T13:47:00.000-05:00

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…

Forward Looking

2007-08-17T14:20:00.000-05:00

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.

Forgiveness

2007-07-26T13:51:00.000-05:00

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.

Uncertainty? Certainly…

2007-07-17T14:02:00.000-05:00

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.