the beauty of resilience.....

The other day while at the College, I was standing just outside a classroom quietly talking with a colleague just around the time the students took a break.  (I wonder why we don't call it recess at the College?)  A 25-ish year old student opened the door and stepped out right in front of me.  She was wearing a low cut tank top and jeans. Peaking out of her top were two elaborately designed tatoos of hummingbirds.  In flight. Larger than life. They looked like they were escaping from her breasts.  

Before I could stop myself and gather my sense of decorum, I exclaimed..... "Wow!  I love your hummingbirds! Those little birds fascinate me!" 

Luckily no one around me seemed to consider this a gaff and the student was thrilled that her "birds" were acknowledged.  My enthusiastic outburst  led to hearing the story behind her choice of tattoo. She came to life. Big smiley bright eyes!  Pleasantly surprised that I had even noticed.  I mean, how could one not notice??  The woman has brightly coloured hummingbirds flying out of her breasts and no one comments?  

Her choice of personal skin-art  was a tribute to her Dad who had passed away.  He had a backyard full of hummingbird feeders that lured the little beings to his home every summer.  He loved their vitality.  So does his daughter. 

Serendipitously,  I have been a bit obsessed with these tiny creatures of late because I have a few hummingbirds who have made my backyard their home this summer too.  During times when I've found a few moments to take a relaxing breath over a  morning cup of tea, or an end of the workday sigh, I have watched them with fascination and tried to capture their life essence in a poem. 

I find myself drawn to their energy as they flit and flummer, wings thrumming as fast as plane propellers, from one flower bloom to another seeking sweetness.  Did you know that a hummingbird lives on the tipping edge of dying?  Their full flight bursts exhaust their energy reserves so dramatically that they are constantly on the verge of starvation.  It makes sense.  They rarely stop!  Their busyness and focused determination to fill up their reserves with sugary sustenance seems to defy this fact. 

Hummingbirds exude excitable confidence. Inherently, they use their needle sharpe beaks to hone in on the blossom's soul where honeydrips await.  I watched one hover around a purple lilac with such purpose and focus. His irridescent wings and purple and green sheen body never stopped.   As it reached into every little bloom, I wondered if the little hummer felt like it had won the jackpot!  One flower head.  A thousand honey spots.

The other morning before it was time to head off to work, I sat on the side steps of my deck to enjoy my tea and the view of the river.  The weather this spring has been so wet and gloomy that when the sun manages to push away the grey clouds, there is a stronger sense of hopeful joy in the moment than if we had been blessed with better weather.  

Quiet and still..... grounded.  That's how I felt as I took in the sights and sounds of nature all around me. There was a chorus of songbirds harmonizing, communicating, expressing their truimphs and their love desires. Beautiful sounds!  As I listened,  I let the breeze spirits seep through me skin to let it replace my tiredness.  It felt like an awakening........a spa for the senses.   Then, I saw him.  This tiny speck of a being sitting right in the middle of the yellow clothesline in my neighbours backyard.  One little hummer with the line all to himself.  It was comical.  He looked like a B-flat note from a music chart.  One little note from a universal scoring.  

He didn't sit perfectly still.  Hummingbirds are hyperactive. But, for him, he was perched pretty darn quietly.  His wings had stopped.   Though he was too tiny to make his head do a "bob and weave" like you would describe if you were trying to capture the head movement in a larger species, he did make the same movement....  It was more of a tip and a flit as he scanned the yard like a Lord looking over his kingdom. Then, I heard his birdcall.  He somehow managed to project his voice above the louder tweets.  I heard him call out.  I'm HERE! 

It left me in awe....... It left me feeling as sense of kindredness with my backyard buddy.  My life is so busy.  For the  most part I like it that way. There are days though when the activities are survival ones.  Maybe not physically like the tiniest member of the bird family, but emotionally/spiritually.  On the tipping edge.  Then, I take a moment to sit on my rejuvenating steps to draw in the blessed goodness of my life.  

We have the gift of nature to be our mentor.  The life that unfolds with growth and determination all around us sends messages of importance life affirming learning.  All we have to do is pay attention and relate. 

The eagle teaches us to soar in freedom...... catching gust of wind under our own wings.  The robin shares many lessons about how to build a home, to protect and provide.  Mourning Doves live in love with their soulmates.  And the hummingbird?  He is the biggest gift of them all because he is the the mentor of resilience.  

There is beauty in the song of resilience.  No matter how ugly life can get we are all more beautiful because of our attempts at making it happen.  The key is to take the time to savour the honeydrips and to keep at it!

The truth leads to forgiveness

On most Sunday mornings, I am awake much earlier than my family and I usually find myself immersed in an internet search of something tied to Christianity.  Whether it is a prayer I can't quite remember the words to, or it is reading a blog that would be considered faith based, or it is a word or a term that has somehow floated up from my imagination, my searches end up taking me to places where new information sits waiting for me to delve into.  My curiosity feeds my fascination and unrelenting thirst to find a place in a church of its own making. On Sunday mornings,  I follow a Christian trail.  

Of course, this cerebral  trail of mine is never straight and narrow. It is a convoluted meandering path with many visual places to stop and ponder.  It also branches out in different directions, encouraging me to make choices on where to trod.   I may start with one speck of a question in mind, but then the more I explore various links, blogs, websites, my head fills up with a broad range of thoughts and feelings.  It's like I start almost brain empty early Sunday morning,  focused by the motivation "to know more..." and all of a sudden, I'm standing in a field that seems familiar but the angle I'm observing it from has altered.  New angle, new light.  New angle, new gaze.  My cerebral explorations almost always wakes up my heart. That is where the sacred light goes in and my own soul light comes from.  From there, I feel the words form...... and I become a vessel.

Its always been that way as a writer/blogger.  Under the umbrella theme of Awareness, I have attempted to allow my thirsty interests.... my curiosity to guide my musing fingertips on the keyboard.  It is a way of learning I never really understood until I started writing again.  Until then, I had always considered the act of finding words to harness the floating bits in my brain as the practise of sharing what I had ALREADY figured out.  Hardly.  

The most important component of integrating new learning with old learning in order to allow it to sink into a place of synthesized acceptance OR to dismiss it outrightly, is writing.  As I write, I challenge my thinking.  As I write, I stare at my feelings.  As I write, I ask myself................. is what I am thinking or feeling the truth?  Can I shift?  And if it isn't quite the truth, can I accept this "new angle" as an important part of  choosing the path that may lead to truth and bare naked honesty?  yes.  

Honest reflections form the basis of establishing the freedom of our imbedded conscience.   Truths may alter, may fall off to the wayside with new learning, may transform our lives in ways we don't understand or even want to accept.  They may be hard and extremely hurtful, or they may lift you up in a smile, but the truth is all we have to build on our faith.  Writing helps strengthen my vision of the truths that are attached to my wavering thoughts and fleeting feelings by anchoring it to what I already have learned.   Writing allows me to challenge what I thought was true, and offers me a much needed venue to pull together a mess of seemingly unattached ideas so I can find linearity in the threads.  There is truth and honesty in those jeezly threads!!!  I just know it. :)

This morning, I learned that the Sunday after Easter is considered the Sunday of Divine Mercy, as practised in the Catholic church.  My morning journey to seek out the genesis and meaning behind this day of mercy, allowed me to quench a thirst while reading the story of Saint Faustina, a Polish Sister canonized by Pope John Paul II whose visions and writings brought forward Jesus' message of forgiveness.   As I read more about her life, about her mystical gifts, about the health issues she suffered, about her devotion to her faith,  my thoughts were peppered by dozens of questions, from whether or not I really believe in the whole Sainthood process, to how comforting her message may be today to the people in her home country who are mourning the tragic losses of their leaders in the plane crash on Saturday.  

Saint Faustina's unwavering beliefs may even be severely challenged by the faithful today, the day of Divine Mercy, as they process their shock and grief, but the message of mercy and forgiveness will eventually prevail. 

The whole idea of unconditional forgiveness, of a Divine Mercy resonates with me and it always has.  Though I didn't know there was a Saint who represented this, I'm not surprised.  For someone like me, who lives in a place somewhere beside formalized religious indoctrinations (like next door on a wooded lot .....) I usually take what I've learned and try to apply it to my own life and to the ones I love.  In actuality, that is what happens to people who attend services regularly and believe in Christianity.  Our places of worship may look very different..... the altars are designed in many forms.   

What I have gleaned this morning as I contemplate the lessons of God's unconditional love and forgiveness is that the only way it can happen fully is to strive for honesty.   Living lies....living secrets and avoiding confessions of our sins is never going to lead to mercy.  It is what Desmond Tutu lives by.  Truth and reconciliation.  He led a whole country to healing and wholeness because he believe in this heart and soul.  He took his beliefs and turned it into action.  He encouraged his country to face up to their sins,  and by so doing, helped them shift their truths and offered them a way to look deeply into their consciences.  Divine Mercy.  He didn't do this without anger and resentment in his heart.  He did this in order to alleviate those damaging instruments of the soul.  Because he believed in the heart of truth, justice, fairness and peace, and because he believed in forgiveness, this gracious man led through his faith.

As an extension of God, Bishop Desmont Tutu wrote, "I am human because you are human. My humanity is caught up in yours and if you are dehumanized, I am dehumanized, and anger and resentment and retribution are corrosive of this great good, the harmony that has got to exist between people."    I love that!!!!

On Sunday mornings, I sometimes follow a path that begins with a fired up curiosity.  Today, I want to strive a little closer to  forgiveness in my own situation.  It will eventually bring peace and harmony.  Not overnight.  Not next week.  One day.   It will look and feel very different than it once did, but that's what I want for myself and for my children.   Today, I relearned that in order to accomplish this state of being............. in order to feel a sense of Divine Mercy, honesty and truth, not lies and secrets is the only path to take.   

Thank you Saint Faustina..... you just helped a wayward little one who doesn't attend the Catholic church find the strength to walk the talk..... to act upon the thoughts and feelings.  This is living our faith.  One step at a time. One confession at a time.  The truth does set you free...........

rain reflections of camp.....

I had a short catch up kind of conversation with my daughter last night on the phone. She's busy at her camp in the counsellor in training program, and is having the time of her life. So much so, that I think she's almost oblivious of how crappy the weather has been all summer long.

We have yet to have a string of sunny days. The temperatures are cool. The skies have been grey. The land is soggy. It feels more like early spring except everything is so lush it looks juicy. The flowers in the garden are bent over in surrender, too damped down by the wet lashings that they havent the energy to spring to attention. Instead, the blooms cower in anticipation of another downpour.

I asked my daughter how bad it was there in dampcampland..... Upbeat and perky, she admitted that she doesn't have a dry towel left, but they were all coping with it. In fact, she had just been swimming in the river to clean up after sliding in the mud. "It was great Mom. We put our bathing suits on and ran around the camp looking for mudpuddles to slide in. We were coated in it! It was a blast!!" Fun? WOW!

After we said goodbye, she was off to the Lodge to hang out with the rest of the CIT's...no doubt in front of a big blazing fire in the old fieldstone fireplace. No doubt someone would have a guitar in hand. No doubt there would be wishes and dreams, and plans aromatically floating from their comfort of belonging. No doubt they would offer up their hopes and bits about themselves into the communal basket of growing kindredness. Relaxed, unhurried, content, my daughter and her friends sprawled out on the wooden floor of the old lodge in front of the fire most likely spent an evening of broadening their connections through conversations, cardgames, music, and comraderie. I could envision it like it was something I had experienced myself. Why? Because I have and those memories I hold dearly.

Rainy summers working at a children's camp conjure up very different nostalgic scenes than the hot sunny long hazy day ones. Regular activities are often swept aside for different open ended adventures where you learn to live within the elements and have fun. Mind over matter always wins! Though it was hard work to push past the expectations of sunny paddles and blue sky sailings, you learned different skills by recognizing that rainy days offer gifts of deeper friendships. If you let it happen.

I remember summers when the rain was unrelenting, when moods were attached to short fuses, when pushing through the elements took a lot of energy. Leaders couldn't whine no matter how consistently dour the skies were. They were the backbone of enthusiasm. But it would take its toll. When this happened.....when there was a shift to a sense of surrender, our number one much loved leader, Skip, would decide to change things up by allowing his staff to sleep in a bit and along with a couple of his senior staff, would take every single camper, usually 120 or so on a long rainy day hike. Sounds like drudgery doesn't it? Far from it!!! Those hikes were ADVENTURES.....SKIN SOAKING FUN.

But, here was the catch. While he entertained the troops....taking them through the woods, down untravelled paths, away into the mystery of the forrest to a long forgotten old logging road and a haunted house called Blagdon Manor ..... while he led them in songs and chants and quick stops to check out new fauna, the rest of the staff had the morning to stretch, work together drink coffee and plan. Why? Because when the troops returned, swampy, muddy, happy, hungry and a little played out, they would be expecting a full out camp experience like no other. Planning consisted of working as a team to conjure up a whole slew of activities, usually under a theme, and usually ending in a dance in Squamish Hall. So many of those fantastic days swim out of my memory bank this morning that I feel upbeat just remembering them.... Staff talent nights (always hilarious!), capture the flag marathons, water baseball in the rain, Skit nights, Indoor games.... Guys and Girls, Counsellor hunts, Kangaroo Courts.... and theme days!

One year, we turned the camp into a Pirate's Training Den. It all began while the kids, then clean, dry and finishing a hot hearty lunch when a group of Pirates sailed around the point, right onto the shores of Camp Kawabi...... We had decorated one of the old outboard boats, The Stable Mabel and turned it into a sailing vessel.... A group of the most "vicious" looking staff dressed in their very best pirate rags loudly announced their invasion. Within no time, the whole camp ran down to the lake to find out what was going on, only to realize they were all held capture, thrown into groups, given pirate family names and promptly introduced to the idea that in order to become pirates themselves, they had to pass a bunch of "matey" tests, which had been set up in various spots all over the camp. If they passed the tests, they would be given their own head scarf and eye patch (all created that morning by a busy bouyant group of leaders).

As the skies threatened above, we were able to ignore its menacing ways and band together in a day of fantasy and imagination. How cool is that? Fun? WOW! A rainy day..... and I bet it was one of the highlights of almost every single person, no matter what age, of their summer. Laughter and song shared with 150 people is hard to ever forget. I loved rainy day activities..... I loved finding those mudpuddles and showing my group of campers how to slide with glee. You can always get clean..... You can't always find the mudpuddles...

After a long energy spilling day, which always left everyone smiling in exhaustion, we'd tuck our campers in and head up to the lodge. In quiet small groups, we'd form around the fieldstone fireplace. No doubt someone had a guitar in hand. No doubt there were wishes and dreams, and plans aromatically floating from our comfort of belonging. No doubt we offered up our hopes and bits about ourselves into the communal basket of growing kindredness. Relaxed, unhurried, content, and closer than ever..... rainy days can do that.

Ah, I now want to go find Blagdon Manor again. And why do I all of sudden want to wrap a scarf around my head? Arrrrrrrrr..........matey.........

ps.... what do you know? I finished this piece and the sun came out.... for a little while. :)

Bring down the Budget. Enough already!

Have you ever tried to drive on black ice? Have you ever tried to steer a car when its lost its grip? The thing about black ice besides not being able to see it in time is that you can traverse over it without many problems if you're aware of its potential existance. Its the anticipation of it.........of the danger a slim film of ice coating a road that helps the driver to react and respond to it differently than you would on a dry stretch. But all the awareness in the world....all of your multi sensory alertness can't predict the random time when the tires hit the ice at precisely the perfect pitch and sends the vehicle spinning out of control and careening into danger.

This is the analogy which surfaced in my head while driving to visit a client in his home yesterday over the backroads of this province. Not only do I always prepare myself as best as I can for whatever situation I am about to find myself in.......home visits can be like that........99 percent of the time danger free....1 percent of the time no so....... I realized that since late fall, I have been feeling like I have been driving along anticipating a huge patch of black ice, predicting I was about to spin out. Black ice driving is bloody stressful and zaps you of energy. Its the waiting for it, and the anticipation of it that just about does you in.....

Today, the black ice budget will finally be released. Today, the people of this province will learn how their elected leaders have decided to deal with the impact of the economic lay of the land. No one more than the people who work within its governmental infrastructure have been waiting, anticipating and trying to emotionally and financially prepare for it's predicted dangers.

Waiting is the bane of trying to "live in the moment...." Though you could argue that if you're feeling all the neck tension and sleep deprivation which often accompanies the waiting, you are most definatly living in the freaking moment. In fact "the moment" gets stretched out beyond the borders of normal time. It makes the MOMENT seem like an existential day with no exit. THIS KIND OF WAITING IS NO FUN.

I don't think that's what the gurus of mindfulness meant. No, they want you to BE ONE with the wait by sacrificing it to the surrendering Gods. Or maybe theres a specific fat fairy who hovers above the clouds waiting for an opportunity himself to earn his wings that you are supposed to channel. Maybe the fat fairy is supposed to swoop down while you slumber and take control of that nemesis MR WAIT by sprinkling it with rationalization dust and prayerful powders. I think the fat fairy got his walking papers. He's no where to be seen.

It's a Wonderful Life ain't it?

Waiting....ticktockticktockticktock.....when does the damn alarm go off??

There is no inner calm when one is in "wait mode...." I havent felt an inner calm since the rumours began to swirl last fall.........first like light snow flurries and then like a full on snowstorm.... And it wasn't like the rumours came out of no where. Some in fact were strategically placed and came with warnings whispered in hallways and seriously spoken of in meetings. Unkind, unhelpful, unmanaged, these rumours spread like patches of black ice, invisible to the eye but anticipated by the GUT. And when you've been told in confidence to "be prepared....be proactive....look after yourself.........GET the salt ready!!!!" Well, all you can do is try to do just that as well as wait....AS well as try to work in an environment that has lost its traction.

Reactive, proactive, responsive, submissive, sleep deprived....staying alive... in the waiting room. Will my number ever be called?

Today the majority of civil servants will drive across the black ice and carry on. Some however will have to manage the spin out. No one knows who will make it. No one knows who will land in the snowbank. No one knows who will be given a bag of salt to throw on the black ice before they drive over it and onto a new road in their personal journey.

It's the waiting that just about kills you........ and personally I am absolutely drained from its wicked ways. I am SO ready to deal with whatever comes my way today or in the fallout of this gloom and doom budget. Because you know what I've learned as I waited in the lobby of the RUMOUR MILL? I've learned that whatever happens, it may be the biggest blessing YET!

They have no idea how much emotional damage they have done. No IDEA! The loyalty gas tank is hovering on empty. There are only the fumes of trust left.

Now, can someone from the Dept. of Transportation please salt the roads? You guys are still around right?

the minstrel

The Minstrel arrived unannounced into the valley with the first warm breeze of spring. Carrying his fiddle and his battered old leather bag strapped over his shoulder resting on his hip, he made his way to the sandy shoreline of the river to set up a respite camp. Quietly, he lifted his bag over his head and laid it against a log and went off to gather some firewood. It had been a while since he had eaten anything. His hunger made him cold. It bit into his loneliness which fortunately he rarely felt. But when it did slip under his skin, it wandered aimlessly until it found the dark ring in his soul. In moments like these, he longed for a warm place to call his own. But he knew himself well enough that his feet were made for wandering and his place he called his own were the wide open spaces. The ability to bring joy to others on his journey with his music kept the loneliness at bay most of the time.

In no time, a small cooking fire was established and his pot filled with soup given to him by a farmer's wife from the village up river was warming up. He took his other pot and scooped some river water to boil for tea. As he waited, he picked up his fiddle and began to play the quiet tune he savoured as a tribute to his true love. He never shared this one with anyone else. It was his prayer, his meditation he held close to his heart.

Soon the soup was hot and ready to eat and he set his fiddle off to the side. As he was digging in his leather bag in search of his spoon, two young boys, just on the cusp of manhood, had made their way down the path to the shoreline carrying offerings for the stranger. One was carrying homemade bread and the other was carrying more firewood. Like everyone in the village, they had watched the man set up his camp with keen suspicion. No one new had been through the village since the summer before.....the intrigue stirred their curiosity and piqued their interest. It was decided that they would represent the villagers, to welcome the stranger but also to find out who he was. The minstrel looked up at the two young men and smiled.

"Greetings to you," he said as he looked directly at them.

"Welcome to our village," the young brothers expressed. Have you travelled far?"

"I have travelled far and wide in my life, but today only from the next village. What are your names," the Minstrel asked.

"I'm Simon and this is my brother Andrew. We have brought you some bread to go with your soup and some more firewood."

"Thank you. My name is Joshua, and after I've finished my meal, I will play you a song if you'd like."

They nodded and smiled and sat down on the log beside the Minstrel, and began asking him many questions about his travels. It was such a different life, so foreign to them but it stirred a secret lust for adventure neither had ever shared with each other. As the fresh bread and soup restored his energy and the sweet tea warmed him up, the Minstrel became more animated and more descriptive.

Simon and Andrew were pulled right into the grand stories as they fed the fire with more and more sticks until it was blazing and snapping sparks high up into the sky. It was a spectacular blaze which threw off heat and seemed to melt away the inhibitions of winter's damp thaw. Pretty soon, their own closely held stories and yearnings were shared with their new friend and Joshua was intrigued to by their engaging ability to express themselves. He could feel Simon and Andrew's desire to learn the life of a wanderer and wondered if he had finally found the two he could mentor. It was a fleeting thought as he listened to their youthful exuberance and knew they were too young yet to take to the road to learn life as it unfolds. Maybe one day.... It was nice to feel a sense of brotherhood with his two new acquaintances and it left him feeling hopeful that perhaps his own stories would be passed on after he was unable to do so.

As twilight beckoned, the Minstrel grabbed his fiddle, stood up beside the bonfire and began to play lively tunes that swirled in the engaging smoke, captured and broadcasted beyond the shoreline. He could feel himself move into a place where the music poured out of him like he was the vessel passing on ancient hymns. They came from some place holy and whole, and he loved visiting there. Pretty soon, the villagers, who had been watching the scene unfold had grabbed their coats and headed down to the shoreline to join the three in an impromptu celebration of all things good.

It was the tonic they yearned for in the dead of winter when fatigue made their arms too heavy to wipe away those burdensome blues. Smiles all around as the music began to touch their cloaked spirits. For a moment in time, the sacred truth of their unmet dreams was replaced with a fullness of time, brushed by a tenderness only felt in the gathering of ancestry. Eternity seemed possible to hold in the palm of your hand.

Simon and Andrew remained captivated by this man named Joshua whose magical gifts enlightened the villagers by resurrecting their light heartedness again. Secretly they longed to sneak off and join him but they knew the timing wasn't quite right. Maybe, they thought....maybe one day he will become their teacher. But, it wasn't the time to be contemplating beyond the grand sense of life affirmed happening in a circle around the fire. The Minstrel played on....sometimes he stopped and told a story about love and forgiveness.....sometimes he changed the tempo and played a lament that seemed soaked in the rain of tears usually lost in the faraway eyes of longing. And then before the mood altered permanently, Joshua would strike his bow with a high step piece and everyone would return to comraderie and lightness. The brothers felt a sense of freedom in their spirits like they had never felt before....it was a revelation to them.

Night grew darker.......and the folks in the village began to leave one by one until the Minstrel, Simon and Andrew were the only ones left. Up the hill from the shoreline, the windows in the homes began to light up with the soft glow of lanterns. Woodsmoke curled up from the chimneys. It looked so beautiful and it warmed Joshua's heart to know that everyone in the village were safely inside and on their way to possibly finding a more restful sleep than before. He too was tired. It had been a long day and he needed to seek refuge in his own slumber. One of the villagers offered a place by their woodstove and he planned to take them up on it after he packed up his bag and fiddle and doused the fire.

Simon and Andrew had stayed behind to ask the Minstrel if they could go with him the next day....if they could learn how to be minstrels......but before they could find the words, Joshua looked up at them and smiled.

"One day," he said. "One day, I will come for you............when the time is right. I will teach you my stories, and help you with the hymns....I will offer you my knowledge and give you my blessing to carry you forward on my behalf. When the time is right. For now, help your village to continue to show love .....to be there for one another. Learn from your elders, and be kind to each other. You are more lucky than you know to have a brother to cherish and to share your dreams with. I hope you will always remain the best of friends. So, for now....I wish you a fond goodnight. I promise I will come for you when time is ready."

With that, the Minstrel walked up the path to the house on the hill where he would rest for the night. Tomorrow, a new village.......and a chance to bring peace and love through his stories and his music. It is what he does....it is why he is who he is.....a holy troubadour named Joshua.

losing it....

a mere suggestion

one speck of a whisper
can trip us into an
awakening soaked in
yearning.


a sheer glint of light
one soft touch on the temple
can move us into a
place awash in
souful exploration


a seered mention
one knowing nudge
can transcend us into a
world of imagination
where being lost
can lead to finding
bliss


may i make a mere suggestion?
perhaps we need to get lost more often.

_______________________________________

This week's Sunday Scribblings prompt is "lost"....it's a good place to be. Check out more offerings by following this link... it may be the beginning of a beautiful journey into the unknown.

the golden arc de triomphe

Once upon a time in the land of backyard rinks, vast wildernesses, pesky mosquitoes, testosterone expressive high sticking, and grizzlies who wrestle beavers live a bunch of boy politicians in search of a pissing contest. Representing four different parties, Leaderless, Rudderless, Unityless and Humourless, and all with seeming different agendas, these boypos (short for short boy politicians) were constantly vying for attention and thirsty for power despite the fact that they had just competed in a National election a little over a month ago. The bladders of the land were emptied out.

Many believed the election wasn't needed because it had been less than two years since the last one and things seemed to be well in hand despite it being a minority government. "Why waste the money? Why pollute the airwaves with doublespeak gooble-dee-gook?" However the leader of the Humourless party who was also the Prime Minister of the land, known for his teeny tiny humility and a hidden agenda which frightened the people of the great white north, was determined to win a majority. Given that the economy was about to tank, and that the country folk were busy Bar BQ ing roadkill on skewers (the national food) dipped in maple syrup.....too busy having their summer fun to pay attention, Humourless used the opportunity and threw down the gauntlet. The 30 million dollar pissing contest began and ended all within 6 weeks. Unfortunately, he fell a few feet short of the target. The land continued to linger in minority limbo as the economy began to make it's predictable spiral downward.



As in any election, there were remnants left on the side of the road. The Leader of the Leaderless party, whose battlecry throughout the election was "I love my country......!!" which was stolen from the sidetalkin' little guy from Shawinigan who ruled the land before Humourless PM, was cast aside very quickly in the aftermath. It was the WORST defeat in the history of the Leaderless Party. So, before people could close up their cottages for a winter's sleep, the Leaderless party members began their own internal pissing contest to pick their next boy politician contestant. Many old standards who had shown their wares before decided not to run, which left three keeners to wrestle for the golden arc de triomphe crown.....Bob, Mike and Dominic.

The Rudderless party, who never makes any inroads in any federal election somehow managed to win enough seats to douse the simmering grumbles of the caucus in order for their jackrussell laytonterrier.......the hyper leader to continue representing them in scrums across the vast wilderness. And Unityless? Well, their focus has always and will remain on Quebec separating from the rest of the great white north in order to save their culture from being swallowed up by the cowboys on the western frontier. Despite this narrow focus, Unityless came out of the election with enough urine to stay in the game and make a difference with respect to the balance of power.


As autumn's leaves fell and November's breath let off a steam when it touched the cold air, it appeared that this new Minority government would settle into the silly season of bantering through question period. It was supposed to be time for rehydration. Alas, it was not going to be the case. Humourless and his henchmen scanned the land like a game of Stratego and saw the opposition sitting back drinking their favourite beer (how a Canadian rehydrates) while discussing their own internal planning and postering. Perfect timing for bully tactics to play out.



Hmmmmmm.......thought the reigning party........"lets pull out our hidden agenda of cuts and slashes to programs and incorporate it in the national budget. What can they do to us? We'll attack the economic woes unlike the REST OF THE WORLD by NOT stimulating the economy through spending in key areas. Instead, we'll tighten the belt of the coffers, so we can say we managed to maintain a surplus. Hey, that'll work.....there will be no stinky socialist dirt on our fingers. WE are fiscally tight assed responsible. The whole wide world may be doing one thing, but we are power pissers, we can outspray any challengers. OH, and while we're at it, lets cut public funding to political parties. That'll hit them in their kissers!"


WELL! The three other parties........Leaderless, Rudderless and Unityless got wind of the new budget and cried FOUL! Humourless is trying to TOXIFY the land with his ridiculous bravado! OUTRAGEOUS! NON Monsieur! They cried in unison as they leaped off their lazyboys, beer can in hand, and headed to a hidden boardroom located in the bowels of Ottawa. Every now and then, one of them would be allowed out to be interviewed over the airwaves, but throughout the weekend, the chatter and planning continued........It was time to BEAT Mr. Humourless at his own game. It was time to form a pissing coalition.......... to outaim, outspray, outlast the urine soaked.

All weekend long, they postulated and permutated, and practised their aim while the rest of the country went about their lives attending Christmas bazaars and parades oblivious to the kerfuffle in Ottawa. Sick of their elected members bullying and threats of relieving themselves in public, the people of the land ignored the silly threats and chest pounding antics.

Until today............. when they announced a coalition...two national parties and one separatiste party have reached an agreement to take down the governing party in a non confidence vote......Quoi??


So, as the national stock exchange posted their worst day since 1987, as the dollar continued to lose strength, as the auto industry collapses, the manufacturing sector continues to pack up for parts in the Far East..........as people receive their lay off notices or are confronted with an unplanned early retirement.......as folks who have invested their savings as a means of accumulating money to live out their retirement years see it dwindled away.....as the country south of the border who has just admitted that their recession began a year ago with no end in sight BUT has a leader who is ready to take charge of change and INVEST in his own country as a way to help out their own economy....... Canada is stuck with a bunch of little boys intent on crossing swords in battle. The timing on this couldn't be worse.

And who is going to win this most recent pissing contest? Monsieur Leaderless who had been left on the side of the road a little over a month ago. He's been chosen to give it his BEST aim! From beaten up has been to Prime Minister in one season. At least we are getting rid of the bully.............let him lick the fork stuck in that humble pie. What a pompous, pompous Humourless ASS.

Stay tuned....................eh..... this is going to take a truckload of Moosehead before it's over.

Every Human Has Rights

December 10th marks the 60th Anniversary of the Declaration of Human Rights. Every day our fellow human being's rights are being violated......abuse, rape, beatings, killings. They live in the heart of violent conflict. They have been discarded and abandoned........left for dead. The Elders, a group of Leaders including Nelson Mandela, Mary Robinson, Jimmy Carter, Kofi Annan, Desmond Tutu, Peter Gabriel are speaking out for our help..... We need to rise up and declare our commitment of the Declaration of Human Rights. Want to read the Declaration? This website includes powerful information, including the Declaration and a place to sign up to be a part of the catalyst for change. We need our leaders to inspire and to guide. They need us to be involved.......to use our voices and our words........to be actively aware in our consumer choices and in our dedication to this cause.

Every Human Has Rights........Sign up today......spread their important message. Listen to your Elders. :)

dancing light reflections.......

pending twilight looking upriver
springhill road,
sat. evening walking the dog with Max

"Take time to accept responsibility. Your life is exactly that - It's your life. It is created by you. You are constantly making choices, constantly creating new experiences. And although we can be affected by circumstances which can seem to be completely out of our control, essentially, we decide the direction in which we walk."
Nicolas Watkins


Every morning, I arrive at my desk to an email entitled "Your Daily Insights." Today, this little gem arrived. Completely appropos to my career situation and my intent on taking the reins to move forward.....or more appropriately conducive to my own thinking, on grabbing that paddle to stern my own canoe.

I've been paddling on the same lake for a while and know the inlets well. There have been times when I've floated along the shores, through the lily pads and lake grass enjoying the water spiders and little fish quietly living their lives. I have found the strength to take deep plunges with my paddle, to fight off the north winds as I cascaded over white caps trying to make it across the lake to a calmer locale. I have laid back against the thwarts and looked up into the sky allowing the canoe to drift along as I enjoy the moment, as I make an attempt to steal deep breaths from the fresh breezes.

Others have joined me in the canoe, all of whom always bring something good to eat, to drink, to teach and to learn. All of the people in my life have shared the paddle, on good calm days, on storm pending days, and on those days when the winds change so abruptly that you need a person in the bow to pull the water in unison.

Amazing how fast you can propel yourselves in a canoe with two working together. And if you do it right, you can feel the strength coming from your whole body. Paddling is never just an arm movement thing. Oh no, paddling takes the muscles in your thighs, stomach, chest, back and arms to make the canoe propel. Your knees, spread about 6 inches as you kneel, support your weight. Your feet, tucked under the seat help you feel connected to the canoe. It takes your eyes to see where you're headed, your brain to register the changes and nuances of your journey. It takes your sense of balance to find the touchpoint of your hip and tush to the side gunnels and the just the right lean. It takes a firm grip of one hand on the butt of the paddle, and the everchanging positioning of your other hand on the neck as you allow the paddle to slide into position through your guiding hand. And if you're doing it right.......if you're allowing all the parts of your body to work the canoe and it's paddle, you become an extension of the journey.

Across the water......... dip, dip and swing.

Most days my paddling has a sense of familiar purpose. I know which inlet I'm visiting. I am aware of the weather up ahead. I can find the right harbour, the best shore, the sturdy dock. Familiarity allows for this. Familiarity allows for us to have the feeling that we can paddle solo......that we can do it alone. But, I'm wondering if familiarity also generates doubt which perpetuates desire to tackle something new? We get settled in the same canoe, on the same lake, looking at the same inlets. The seasons come and go, the winds come and go........ all predictably familiar. Which is nice, if you're completely and utterly content.

And if you are.........completely and utterly content...............go with it........more power to you.....rock on.......... just watch out for those nasty snapping turtles, oh and the driftwood.....oh, and watch out for the changing water levels, where all of a sudden, the familiar lake alters it's vista and you're left grounded on a new sandbar with a stick puncturing your beloved canoe.

Yeah, familiarity...............a facade, isn't it, with contentment as a trap?

Today, I headed over to what looks like an inlet from afar, but as you get closer, you can see it's really the beginning of a tributary feeding into another lake. It's the other lake where I have heard has a couple of beautiful campgrounds to check out. It is where my next destination lies. I know this lake, but not as well, so have decided to ask for directions, to ask for help with the navigating.

Help.......will you please help me? I asked.......... these are not words I often spout because I'm normally comfortable soloing. I'm normally the navigator for others. But, today I asked someone whom I know clearly has a big picture of the lay of the land and lake..........

His answer?

"Yes, I would love to help you. But, I don't want you to settle for something you're not completely excited about. I want you to be picky about your destination. And while I'm helping you, I want you to plant as many seeds as you can along the way........."

Our lives are created by us, as noted in the quote........but we should never be afraid to check out new vistas, to pass up familiarity and more importantly to ask for help in the paddling to a new destination.

Think I've just pushed off from the shore.....it may be a longer paddle than I anticipate because, well I'm not going to settle for the first campground I check out.....it takes time.......but I have help. I don't have to navigate alone.

My paddle's keen and bright, flashing with silver.......
Follow the wild goose flight
dip, dip and swing........

please pass the fibre........

It is in my humble opinion that anal retention should be rendered illegal. Not only does it bung up healthy social interaction, communication and celebration, it levels any form of compromise or consensus. One anal retentive individual, stuck on the loo of life has the capacity to bring things to a screeching halt...........or at least slow it down to a snails pace. Sure, Retenters (new word, thank you very much) are good for making sure the details are considered.........but they ALWAYS take it to the nth degree of neurosis. Just when you think you've reached a point where a step in a project is completed and agree upon, the corked butt starts hedging.........and hemming and hawwwwing with trembling trepidations.

What if.........
Dont you think we need to........
What about........
I'm wondering..........
We forgot.........
Let's not get ahead of ourselves........
We need to consider......
Oh, wait a minute, we forgot to draw the happy face in the dot of the "i"
Can we review what we've done one more time?


OK................so here's a worse combination..........anal retentive control freak worry wart. These people are named Superdeeduper Retenters. Though they are few and far between, I would highly recommend that you run for the hills if you happen to encounter this breed or else you'll get sucked into the island of Myopia where navel gazing competes with thumb twirling as preferred pastimes, where micromanagement is considered holy, where colouring outside of the lines is blasphemous. Egads!!! Its hell on earth!!

Unfortunately, I forgot to put on my running shoes....................

Unfortunately, I have spent a considerable amount of time assuaging a classic Retenter.........a considerable amount of my SPARE time. You see, I have another moniker besides Miss Muskie, and Awareness, the Motor Mouth Blogger Lady and Greatest Mom Ever, and Practically Perfect Wife and Lover, I also go by the title of President. In my so-called SPARE (insert coughing here) time, I am President...........with approval ratings much higher than Dubya down in Washington........... Yes it's true. I'm President of the Home and School committee at my son's school. Sure it's not as prestigious as say Pres. of the United States of America, but I think I can safely state that I have more friends..........

Usually this gig is manageable and fun. Over the years (this is my third tenure........it was my daughter's elementary school first) I have met the most wonderful group of women.....funny that! ALL WOMEN! Where are the Daddio's when it comes to volunteering at the school?......anyways........I have met a group of wonderful women whose lives are as busy as mine.........most juggle home and work and various and sundry other extra curriculars........so a Home and School meeting is often a couple of hours of sharing funny stories and catching up as well as planning fundraisers and connecting with the teaching staff to learn of the highlights of the school day etc. There have actually been times when we moved the H&S meeting to a local pub......... Between the group of us over the years, we have been involved in raising thousands of dollars for this terrific school, all of which goes directly back to enhance the curriculum and materials.

All rewardingly good on many levels.................until I somehow managed to find myself in the middle of a controversy between Superdeeduper Retenter person who happens to run the school and the Treasurer............on the "best practises" of bookkeeping........... in other words......who signs the cheques? These are cheques for milk orders and hot lunch pizzas. These are cheques for teacher supplies and extra curricular stuff for the kiddies. We're not talking about Trump like millions here. Given that the Treasurer is an Accountant and Auditor, I was more than confident that she knew what she was doing. However, even though I knew the tendancies of Superdeeduper Retenter guy, I underestimated his pitbullness.

The Prez (me) frigged up by categorizing him as a mere Retenter................... a costly mistake, let me tell you. This little issue, which I thought was a fly by night minor one compared to the issues of world poverty, hunger, terrorism and war, AND I STILL DO BTW........this little issue has wreaked havoc since September on the wonderful relationships between Home and School.

I have tried various time consuming mediating tactics.

• Recommend the two parties discuss the issue on their own.
• Talk to both parties to see where the issue is
• Listen to both sides
• Ask advice from outside person
• Put it on the agenda to discuss at a meeting (only to be ambushed by others with opinions)
• Walk away and ignore it
• Pray that other bigger issues take Superdeeduper attention away from it
• Shut down and focus on Christmas
• Listen some more.

smile, smile, smile..........

THIS IS VOLUNTEERING???

Last week, we had a closed meeting...........just the parents on the committee. We had a great lesson on accounting practises.......... and we made a decision..........unanimously..........to maintain the status quo on the cheque signing. That meant that the Superdeeduper Retenter didn't have signing authority. As Prez, it was my job to let him know.

I contacted him the next day...............and talked on the phone. He was not a happy camper. No reassurances...........or acknowledgement of his side of the scenario was going to settle this issue in his perseverative brain. It was completely transparent to me that he was personally offended.....the issue had turned into a power tug of war issue. Short and sweet was the conversation. Then I followed up with a detailed email, highlighting important points but also directly acknowledging hurt feelings and stress etc between parties. I've shared this email with everyone involved. Now, I have been told has been forwarded to the Superintendent and the Chief Financial Officer of the school district.

For the love of God, I hope the Superintendent and the CFO have a heck of a lot more to do than be messing with this stupid issue. Kids are graduating illiterate for goodness sake..............

Can you see why I am recommending that we pass a law...........or at least for all our sakes we help them learn how to pass wind? Be careful where you are standing...............


PS. As I have been writing this post, I received an email with the minutes from the meeting attached. Turns out the secretary had her own conclusion to the issue........and wrote up minutes which indicate the OPPOSITE of what was agreed upon. She left a copy of it with the Superdeeduper Retenter today..........before they had been read and approved.

To quote the always eloquent ex-NDP leader and knitting enthusiast, Alexa McDonaugh......."Horseshit. Complete, total horseshit!"

a rock pile of ideas............

A rock pile ceases to be a rock pile the moment a single man contemplates it,
bearing within him the image of a cathedral.
Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Since returning to work after a much needed hiatus over the Christmas season, I have been happily inundated with offerings of open-ended opportunities. It seems like I have gone from an empty cupboard to a potentially full cupboard, with the gleeful option to fill it as I please. I'm only restricted by my open-ended imagination. Sure, there are parameters to the work I have been asked to delve into, but not restrictive ones. In fact, the parameters are actually what was missing before the Christmas break. The parameters have fed my sense of purpose. And if one doesn't have a clear picture of their sense of purpose, one will just continue to wander down a road aimlessly.

Rock picking to throw into a useless pile
Apple picking without a basket to fill
Pinecone gathering without creative way to use them
Kindling collecting without a fire to feed

A sense of purpose........a gameplan, even if it is very sketchy allows you to look at the rock pile and see potential to build, to hold an apple in your hand and dream of deliciously steaming cinnamon scented pie. Direction offers you a chance to look at the pinecones nestled in the loam under the tree and envision how beautiful a wreath they could make; to look at the twigs and sticks as a means to generate a well lit gloaming to warm your creative thoughts by.

To tell you the truth, the difference between my workload before Christmas and after Christmas is better described as 6 months hanging out with Rod Serling in the Twilight Zone and then waking up to realize it was a frigging nightmare. And it all started when someone in authority decided to check out my job description and CV.

All of a sudden.........BINGO! Their lightbulbs went on........ that gal may be worth somethin'.

I NOW HAVE BEEN GIVEN THE GREEN LIGHT TO TEACH!

Bring it on!

So..........since this authoritative enlightenment, I have been "offered up" to orchestrate a training plan for a group of professionals who for the first time are going to rally as a team to focus on "Prevention." I was also "signed up" to develop and deliver "Counselling and Assessment" skills (ie. how to be respectful and nice to clients while listening with your heart) provincial wide to hard nosed staff who have worked in the frontlines for thousands of years and have never had any training. That'll be a toughie, but I'm pumped!!

What else................... a Professional Development plan.........ranging from in-house information sessions on mental health issues to family violence and the law........ME! Developing and delivering. AND, I will be involved in the designing of a case management plan for people who work in social services. Little do they know they are already "case managing" to some extent....wait 'til I introduce the idea of "case interacting" under the guise of case management.............(laughing wryly......oh the subversiveness of it all)


So, my brain has been ticking...........pling, pling.......click, click........as I collect the rocks, the apples, the pinecones and the kindling................to build a learning and doing cathedral filled with light and colour.

Teaching, facilitating, coaching, leading, sharing, whatever you want to label the person who orchestrates the training...........is what stokes my fire. I thrive on interactive learning. Most days when I'm up in front of a group (and at the side, and at the back and sitting in a circle with them..........I move around a lot) I often feel like I have learned more than I have taught. Group work is fascinating because the changing dynamics and chemistry of each and every group is different.

Bring it on!

My approach with any training, whether it's dry procedural process and policy stuff or counselling and assessment related or whether it's a college course on human relations, is to be as prepared as I can prior to the session. The lesson plan, handouts, the right room..........the whole lot needs to be ready and then I can take flight from there. By being prepared, I feel more confident to be flexible which I believe is very important when one's method leans toward open interactive dialogue. Sure, I have specific outcomes or ideas I want to relay.........but the process of learning alters depending on the group dynamics.

The key is to set up the environment where people are comfortable sharing.

Sharing......opening up......dialoguing......
Making the links between old knowledge and new ideas. Talking...applying....questioning.....arguing.....debating
with passion!!
Wondering aloud comfortably.
Feeling, feeling, feeling .....the gamut of feelings
And remembering that one can't have enough laughs!

I want participants to say to themselves..........how is this helpful to me? How can I use this new learning in my life? Am I comfortable sharing my thoughts and feelings? How does this help me work more effectively with people?

I'm a firm believer, as this blog can attest, in being an open book; sharing stories, feelings, thoughts, examples......as a teaching style. If I'm going to expect someone to reach out to another human being, I must be comfortable self-disclosing. I must be comfortable sharing vulnerabilities as well as strengths.

Isn't that the key to leadership?


When one is providing training in counselling and human interaction skills, every single person attending must feel safe to do the same. Learning how to "be a counsellor" is learning about oneself first. The only way this EVER works is if the learning environment is welcoming and safe. It takes time sometimes for a group to gel, for the group to be trusting. What helps are the "in between learning" discussions, sometimes called "icebreakers" that may seem like a waste of time at face value. But if you pick the right one, you would be amazed at how much is shared.

Timing is everything..................

So, this week...............................I'm going to throw out a couple of questions or ideas which I have used in the past as "session starters" which have provided the most interesting jewel filled sharing moments I have experienced as Coach........... and would love to read your thoughts....your feelings.................

AND, I would love it if you shared with me any "icebreaker" ideas you have had fun doing in a workshop.......

So....................my first question FOR YOU?

What is one thing that gives you joy?

__________________________________

If you want to build a ship, don't drum up people together to collect wood and don't assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea. Antoine de Saint-Exupery

what to believe..............

What I love about the autonomy of blogging, well writing in general really is that it allows me to write anything I bloody well want to. Not only that, I can complete a thought and a sentence without being loudly talked over. Sure, my point of view can be dismissed by the reader with one click of the mouse. Fine. But, I can lay out my opinion as linearly as I can even if it's just for my own benefit.

Blogging is not as all pervasive as other methods of mass communication. It's more intimate, more personal as well as one sided until (and if) comments are left to offer another view or another opinion. And, if someone leaves a nasty rude comment that I deem inappropriate, I can delete it and move on because it's my blog. My perogative......................

Unfortunately, the media is very difficult to turn off, dismiss and ignore. And this week, I'd like to turn it all off. Why? The Robert Pickton trial has begun in British Columbia. His heinous crimes are worse than Bernardo, Legere, and Olsen combined. If you havent heard about this evil man and the gruesome murderous acts he is accused of commiting, just take my word for it, it's beyond comprehension. And yet........

CTV has been "promoting" the trial for over a week like it was a CSI episode. They are inviting us to tune into the National news at 11pm to get all our updates on the trial with these "alluring" ads. It sickens me...................as I try to explain to my kids what the networks are "promoting" while they are watching some innocent TV show that's gone to commercials.

CBC Radio One not only has the updates during every top of the hour newscast, albeit with warnings just before they rail into the gore (at which time I am running around the house turning off the radios in all the rooms so my children don't have to learn any more details of it), they have also developed "angles" for interviews on forensic this and DNA that with experts during their morning, afternoon and evening shows. You may have turned on the radio in the morning to try to catch the local information and news (weather, school bus delays, updates etc) but be prepared to switch off at any time, because Robert Pickton is front and centre.

All newspapers have a gruesome eye catching photo and headline on the front page, and then have a "special section" devoted to the details.

Any online newsite you click onto will have a picture of the scumbag front and centre because he's intriguing??? I'm sure if you looked.........and it wouldn't take a lot of digging.....you could learn all the details which the court has banned from reporting on.

I have stopped reading newsites online................I have turned off the radio............I refuse to watch the TV news. My choice, I realize...................... and if you want to watch or listen.......if you have a driven desire to learn more, well then fill yer boots.

What I don't understand is why someone would want to pollute their brains with such vile descriptive violence? Is it some kind of thrill? Where does the curiosity for this stuff come from?

This particular story, along with a few others that seem to be in the news every single day has also generated a lot of questions in my head about the amount of lies and disceptions we are fed daily.....................stuff others with an agenda want us to believe. I find it very difficult to find my way as I filter through propaganda, spins, left leaning thought vs. right leaning thought, political correctness, fundamentalist finger pointing, poll inducing assessments, opinionated editorials, heartfelt testimonials, and emotional diatribe that makes up the majority of our media. I don't care which political planet you're from...........................we are all fed a lot of bullshit, and innuendo that more often than not reinforces our own take on the world.

WHERE is the BALANCE? DOES BALANCED reporting exist? Did it ever exist. I don't believe it ever has...........but who am I for YOU to believe? I'm just a lowly little blogger with an opinion.

Just like a horoscope, it makes sense to you by the way you interpret it. You can make a horoscope fit your day anyday!! How scientifically magical that is. The news is that way as well. If I'm a supporter of Stephen Harper, I can find many articles to support my point of view. I can even decide to only read those articles and dismiss everything else as lies. Same with any issue.
It leaves me confused and at times unsure as to where I stand on certain issues. What I try to do, if I'm interested in learning about a topic or an issue...........if I want to form an educated opinion, I try to read a variety of articles that reflect many angles. Easier said than done..... but I try.

'Cause the truth HAS to be in there somewhere...........doesn't it?

Not that I want a world that is black and white, right and wrong.....but it would be nice if I could at least trust something that I hear or read or see in the media because right now, not one politician comes out smelling fresh and not one journalist comes out unbiased......... integrity and honesty seem to have been flushed down the toilet and into the sewers.........polluting the rivers, which in turn is consume by the cows, which in turn produce flatulant methane gas, which as we all know is the major cause of global warming.......or not.

Gee........this was the fastest post I've written in weeks. I wonder why??

I will end this little bloggierant with a quote I found in the newspaper today. Not only did it make me laugh..........I BELIEVE it.....

"The very powerful and the very stupid have one thing in common. They don't alter their views to fit the facts. The alter the facts to fit their views, which can be very uncomfortable if you happen to be one of the facts that need altering." Dr. Who.

Anyone going to watch Dubya's State of the Union Address tonight?

living in dread

John and I spent a couple of hours together on Friday morning trying to sort a few things out. His biggest need right now is to find a new place to live which is why I had booked an appointment to meet with him. When I first met him in September in his "home" to help him apply for a disability pension, he was in a state of dread and desperation. He still is. But, he's now on TWO waiting lists for affordable clean housing, closer to amenities, closer to help. When I had heard that a frontline worker was trying to reach him to "ask" if his name could be shared with the local "non-profit" housing organization so that THEY could contact him for an interview to see if he would be a good candidate for one of their apartment units, I knew this would confuse him beyond his comprehension.

John has been trying to seek help for years............YEARS to no avail. Consequently, as it would any one of us, he had lost his temper when he has left messages that aren't returned.........he had threatened with his words, tried to seek help through human rights, called his local politician, called his financial worker to intervene, shouted obsenities to faceless workers over the phone.........his desperate tactics and reactions only created defensive responses by the "people" who could help him. As far as they were concerned, because he was faceless to them, John had dug his own hole.


The system is a failure. Unable to understand the reactionary behaviour of a man at his wits end, who lashes out with venomous words.......... the system blames him and turns away.........


He arrived in a snowstorm, after securing a ride into town with a neighbour, with a shopping bag full of papers; form letters from various government departments, requesting information and updates. One to apply for a fuel supplement for which he would qualify, another to re-apply for medicare because his was expiring............heating bills, monthly expense calculations, lists of government people whom he has tried to contact. The shopping bag of papers overwhelmed him. On top of that, he couldn't afford a stamp to mail the forms. After paying his bills, he only has $7.00 left for the rest of the month.
Important, immediate this took precedence. We began by focusing on the shopping bag of responsibilities. As I began filling out the forms for him, the fear and dread poured out..........

• The water pipes in his rundown mini-trailer have frozen
• He still has fleas in his trailer and he's tried to get rid of them
• Mold is growing in the walls. He knows it makes him sick.
• He is $600.00 behind in his hydro payments
• Despite only living in a mini-trailer, his hydro/heating bills per month are more than $200.00 a Month because two of his windows have rotted off the sills.
• His body aches
• He is bone weary tired
• He's so sorry if he offended anyone...................
  

And all the while he is sharing this unbelievable list, he is apologizing for how he has behaved, for the voice mail messages he has left on my phone...........and on many phones around town.

And all the while he is sharing his overwhelming shopping bag of his life in dire poverty, he continues to call me "dear." It's the Maritime way......................"dear" said with compassion.

And all the while he is telling me about his aches and pains, his depression and physical numbness...................I am cursing inside, feeling overwhelmed, wondering how I can secure a clean, warm apartment for him. I have been told in the past that he's a "priority. I've heard responses like..........."he's a great candidate for one of the new apartments we are building" which is beyond comprehension since the shovel hasn't even broken ground. This man's needs are immediate.

What is he asking for? He is asking for a safe warm affordable place to live..........a place with a flush toilet, running clean water, no fleas.............a place where the wind doesn't whistle through like a loud locomotive. He is asking for the chance to have more than 7 dollars left in the middle of the month so he can buy food. He is asking for help. He is asking to be treated with dignity and respect.

"Please, dear".........................he pleas, as he shows me the flea bites on his legs.

I continue to fill out the forms, and look through his shopping bag to find the needed bills etc to attach to the proper forms and to listen to him pour out his heart. I show him where to sign the forms and then take them to our mail box............ His shopping bag is lighter. He is relieved for the moment. I can see some tension leave...........his burdened shoulders visibly relax.

I reassure him......call him dear..............and on the way out the door into the snowstorm, I walk with him past many offices to introduce him to the people whom he has left curses on their voice mails. He smiles a tired smile............"nice to meet you, dear" and leaves with them a different view of his human face. It has a profound affect on a few of them I learn later.

Poverty is fear, malnutrition, chronic bad health, loneliness, illiteracy and depression. Poverty is the look of dread and dreariness on the face of a desperate human being. Poverty is alive and well in this country. Poverty is sucking the marrow out of our collective souls. Poverty is bone crushing fatigue from living with dread and fear.

It's time for real action. It's time to meet our neighbours who are barely surviving, who are living in unacceptable conditions right down the road from where you live.

It is beyond time to demand we have a system that works............a system that is compassionate and capable of being the safety net for our needy. This province........this country needs a strategy on poverty that not only fixes the holes in the safety net, but that revolutionizes the perceptions and attitudes of all Canadians.