connections

Dance, then, wherever you may be

For I am the Lord of the Dance said he

And I'll lead you all, wherever you may be

And I'll lead you all in the Dance said He.

I woke up this morning with this song playing in my head. Do you wake up with a tune? Sometimes it leads my day. Sometimes it leads my writing. Today, it will lead both.

Yesterday, I spent the early part of the afternoon with a young woman of 23. She was referred to me after her initial intake interview and registration for social assistance because her story was complicated and her needs are many. Though the reason for the referral is typical, the individuals I have the honour of meeting are all unique. I love that. It's what drives my desire to stay in the frontlines................I get to meet the most interesting unique people and learn a little of their mystery.

To learn to dance with another.

Everyday. Uniqueness. Everyday. Newness.

Like all connections, we began our dance to find the common ground. It doesn't matter who you are connecting with safe footing is where to start, especially if the dance floor is uneven where one is a client and the other is initially perceived as authority and middle aged.

At first the conversation may lead to a couple of missteps, as was the case today. She was nervous and I was trying to figure out why she was referred to me.

So we started with the soft shoe..........

Leading the way, I explained who I was and asked her to share a bit of who she was. Smiling with my eyes........showing that I'm listening. Being present. It rarely takes very long if you find the right song to play. A couple of choices possibly to find the beat. If you are open to where your dance partner wants to jump in, the connection happens. As it did, she began to pour her woes, her complicated, multiplicated burdens..............way too many for anybody...........way too many for a 23 year old.

I wanted to dance all afternoon with her ............show her a couple of twirls..........and have her demonstrate her stomp. We did begin and while we talked the serious life talk, we also found time to laugh at our shared stories of our own life dances. She was delightful and willing to learn how to march on.....one toe tap at a time.

We connect through movement and song. We live through movement and song that somehow swells up from a special place inside our soul.................expressed in many emotions.

Today.............I will dance a jig.

And you?

What dance will you do?

refuge

What is home?
Is it a place where you can settle as you sink into your favourite well worn chair
Shaped to hug
Sturdy to hold your tiredness
Is it a refuge where you can let go to just be yourself as you........?
Sheltered to protect
Solid to withstand joy and sorrow.
Dependable

What does your home look like?
Does it consist of soothing sensual colours
Blending and embracing you warmly
Like cold hands clasping a hot mug of tea
Does it have a face with relaxed krinkling eyes that smile
Welcoming, encouraging always............
Friendly

Is it a state of mind connected to the heart.......?
Your very own transportable, inflatable, deflatable sanctuary
defined by you
redesigned by you
Open to ruminations and reflections
Receptive to light and darkness
Able to comfort you with a flick of a thought.
Unconditional belonging

Can you go there now?


Government can provide housing. Who helps find a home? We all need home.

reflections.................

"We create institutions and policies on the basis of the way we make assumptions about us and others. We accept the fact that we will always have poor people around us. So we have had poor people around us. If we had believed that poverty is unacceptable to us, and that it should not belong to a civilized society, we would have created appropriate institutions and policies to create a poverty-free world."

Muhammad Yunus.

Time and again I listen to clients say............"I just need a break. I don't want to be on welfare."

Stuck in the welfare system. The longer they're stuck, the harder it is to get a break. Once a person is in receipt of social assistance longer than 6 months, the chances of that breakout becomes more and more bleak. Policies and the lack of any integrated approach by government and community based services perpetuate the downward spiral. Our systems have produced a culture of poverty that has become acceptable................if not acceptable than ignored.

There are many wonderful people working in the frontlines who, more often than not are mired within their own siloed policy driven systems. Networking does occur, but real sharing and real commitment to helping a person out of the ghetto that can only happen if the commitment includes working from the same philosophy is sadly and blatantly missing.

I realize that the issue of poverty it isn't so clearcut. The clientele I work with are fighting a barrage of barriers, which range from illiteracy to dilaudid addiction. Mental illness, abuse, chronic health issues, poor coping skills, learning disabilities, family dysfunction feed the poverty cycle. Recent Canadian studies have shown that clearly over 70% of clients living on social assistance are clinically depressed. Disenfranchised and disconnected from their surrounding communities, individuals living in poverty remain stuck. This is no different than any other community.

I strongly believe that finding oneself on social assistance is a symptom of an individual's life situation. There is a cause and effect to the end result of finding yourself in crisis sitting in an office having some government worker assess your financial eligibility..........to see if you qualify for social assistance.

There has to be a way out. There has to be a more positively enabling approach to fighting this hideous demon. What is the role of government? What should it be? What are the roles of community based organizations? Of business? Of the Church? Of community members? Of the individual? What should they be?

How do we start finding our way to establish a successful gameplan?

Quite simply, we humanize it. We take poverty out of the abstract sphere that it encircles, and begin to see it as a person just like you and I.


If poverty has a face, it becomes real. If it is real, our compassion will embrace it. We can then make a connection.

Muhammad Yunus began his microcredit approach to helping the poor in Bangladesh by connecting with a small group of villagers who needed a meagre couple of dollars to move out of a life of poverty. They were the faces that opened his eyes. His experience since that first transaction has offered him proof that poverty is not an option. Next month, he will be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize along with the Grameen Bank.............the microcredit institution he founded. His theory and practical approach to eradicating poverty is working.

One individual at a time..................all they need is a helping compassionate hand, and a break. Living a life stuck in poverty is totally unacceptable.

Clowns are Scary Beasties

Last week, I took part in a parent panel on the local CBC morning radio program. With a couple of other parents we discussed the fact that Ronald MacDonald of Big Mac and Supersize fame was guffawing his way through the hallways of elementary schools promoting healthy living. It was a heated and rather funny discussion that ran the gamut of opinion......from absolute disgust that such a corporate icon of fast food could be doing anything but promoting fat gobules found in McGarbage to an attempt at putting the Clown in context of all the other "healthy living" activities and new nutrition policies the school system has been implementing.

My personal feelings? I thought it wasn't a great move because of the mixed messages, but that my son got the point of the entertaining Ronald MacDonald show in his gym. According to Max, Ronald was promoting healthy living. He sarcastically told me: "Yeah, you eat a Big Mac, then you go for a run and burn it off, and then order another Big Mac and then go for a run." Ah, yes balance! Me of all people ended up being the voice of humourous reason......

Sometimes stories can take on a life of their own, especially when there are only a handful of radio stations to tune into in this fair city. On the day it aired, everywhere I went I bumped into somebody who had heard the panel and who wanted to air their own feelings. It hit some weird nerve ending. I guess the school admin offices throughout the city were inundated with phone calls from irate parents who didn't know the big goofy guy was in town. CBC received several emails, and in turn interviewed a school official to try to find out who was responsible for approving this horrendously hideous heavy handed event. Today, there is an opinion piece in the local paper that referred to a comment I made on air. This morning, the Minister of Education, from his cellphone while standing in the Toronto Airport waiting for his flight to China to promote New Brunswicks "FABULOUS" school system, announced that Ronald MacDonald will from here on in be banned from our elementary schools. The news made national headlines.

Read the story for yourself

Thank God for small miracles......................we have saved our children from the artery clogging calamity caused by too many chicken lips.........er I mean nuggets.

I think people have too much time on their hands to really care about more important issues. I also think that the ire shown indicates that parents don't realize how savy our children our. WE underestimate their ability to read a situation realistically. We also think we can "save" and "protect" them from the evils of advertising as well as anything that could wreak havoc on their tender psyches. How will kids ever learn to critically think if we protect them from controversy? Get real!!

ruminations.........

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God; your playing small doesn't serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.
And as we let our light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
Nelson Mandela, Inaugural speech, 1994

Well..........why is this so? Why are we so afraid of our own light? Is it because we think we would have to step up to the plate, expected to hit a homerun every time? Is it because we have tried to shine and have been told to tone it down? Is it because it goes against the lessons we were taught to be humble and non-assuming? Are we a bunch of chickens?
How was it that the world never forgot Mandela, like we have many others who have been unjustly imprisoned? Could it be that he lived these words, breathing in the meaning every moment he was behind bars? His light shone through the fortified walls. We felt his strength. His light allowed him to overcome his fear and suffering in order to be able to walk away free............torch held high.

"When it is dark enough, you can see the stars"
Ralph Waldo Emerson

An explorer in a new territory who has chosen an untrodden forrested path may stumble among the brambles and unknown knolls as she finds her footing. Tentatively tempting to put one foot in front of the other, relying on her sometimes shaky intuition, trusting the acuity of her senses, she moves forward...slowly....deeper into the darkening woods. Strange noises of snapping twigs, hoot owls and swishing branches tease her confidence. But her reliable inside voice continues to whisper encouragement as she continues into a dark valley.

Right when it doesn't seem like it could get any darker, she looks up through the opening of the trees to the calming familiarity of the night sky and the galaxy of stars that have always been a guide for explorers who are attempting to map out their destiny.

Deep intake of fresh night sky air....a sigh of relief......and the path becomes more accessible.

PS: Tonight, the night sky will entertain. Meteor showers are in the forecast to commence during the darkest part of the night, of course.

Pass It On

It only takes a spark to keep a fire going.
And soon all those around
Can warm up to it's glowing
That's how it is with God's love.
Once you've experienced it
The love you feel
Within your heart
You'll want to pass it on.

Today was a day of fighting to remain focused in my work. I've had many days like that recently. I start off with determination, with a plan and then I start to run out of steam too early. Good intentions......... but running on embers. Feeling singed around the edges.

This afternoon, I had a chance phone call from a previous client. He needed to share the follow up to his story. His life is complicated and a thousand times more frustrating than mine will ever be. He has travelled down so many dead end roads, has made so many bad choices in his life which have left him untrusting and very burnt around his edges. And yet, he phoned me. He took a chance, and picked up the phone. Interestingly, as much as he needed to connect with me, to have me listen and to help him find perspective, I needed to hear about his world to help me focus on what is really important, and on the other inconsequential things I must learn to crumple up like dry leaves and blow away in the wind. I also needed an opportunity to pass on a spark of hope, even though I didn't know I had it in me before he called.

Of course, it was thinking about our conversation afterwards when the realization hit me. I didn't need to be a blazing fire all the time. All I need is a spark to keep me going. All I need to do is pass on a spark.................to someone else.................and allow them to make their own glorious wood crackling campfire. By passing it on, I received a gift..........another ember of mine re-ignited, warming me.

The words to the song I started this post with came to mind automatically. Always sung softly at chapel, my memory of it includes the sound of innocent voices, sitting on the beach cuddled together in bunches of friends, tired from a long day of activity, mezmerized by the glowing campfire. All little sparks ..........safe and secure in the knowledge that they belonged.

They matter. We all matter.

That's how it is with God's love
Once you've experienced it
The love you feel
Within your heart
You'll want to pass it on.

Don't Get me Started..........

I have the fun of being a part of a panel of parents who meet monthly for a gabfest on the local CBC radio morning show. There are four of us plus the interviewer.... all parents with varied home lives and kid combos. We tackle an issue that usually is predominant in the news. Last month, it was our "take" on the Pampered Child (an author was in town flogging her book and theories). This week, we took on Ronald MacDonald. He's been showing up at local schools supposedly promoting healthy living. The taped conversation started there and flew into the whole concept of the difficulties of providing nutritional food for your kiddies that they will chow down on. Since we are a varied group, our opinions range. And since none of us are vocally challenged, it is definately lively.

After the taping today, the conversation continued as we decided on the next topic as well as shared other non-aired stories with one another. And as I listened the one word (besides the term "wellness") that irritates me more than any other kept rearing it's ugly head.

Parenting

Where did this term come from? It's not in the dictionary. I looked.

When did parenthood turn into a verb? What the heck is parenting?

There are many verbs attached to parenthood, but the state of being a parent is not a verb. It is a state of being. I am a parent.

As a parent, I provide, guide, love, nuture, teach, support, protect, pick nits (Thank God only once) and wipe noses. I read books, sing silly songs, clean up spilled messes, take temperatures, help with homework, drive, drive, drive. I tell stories, organize birthday parties, pack for trips, make meals, play thousands of "go fish" card games, sit through tweenie movies, draw baths, wash hair, love, love, love. I reassure, mend, fix, hug, console, dry up tears. I discipline, set rules, teach respect and kindness, demand proper manners.

Sometimes I lose my cool. Sometimes I am human and show my agitation. Sometimes I feel so fed up with it all that I get the hell out of here..........to clear my head. But even when I am off blowing out gusts of fury I am still a parent. I'm Mom. I'm Mom BEING EMOTIONAL.

Like every parent I worry, fret, wonder, show frustration, hope, talk, share, listen, pray. And when the day has been particularly stressful for me or my child OR for the whole family, I find solace in watching my child sleep soundly under the covers.

How odd it would be if I was to ask someone..............so what are you planning to do on this fine Saturday........... and they answer.......... Oh, I thought I would do some gardening, cooking and then a little bit of parenting this afternoon?

Being a parent is an ever evolving learning process, hopefully guided by common sense and luck..... just like our own parents did the very best that they could, we take the reins from them and lead on............... I may screw up from time to time. My bark maybe worse than my bite every once in a howling blue moon. I may surrender to serving chicken nuggets one too many times instead of something healthier. I hope to God I don't scar them for life with my days when I'm uneven in providing. But, I will never describe my role as a parent with an "ING" attached to it.

Did I sit silently and let my opportunity to air my pet peeve pass? What do you think? NOT!

"When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years." - Mark Twain

Expectations Versus What Really Happens

One of the questions I was asked in my job interview last week had to do with how I would handle a situation when I had too much work to accomplish and the time was running out. In other words can I prioritize, make decisions on the fly and go with the flow? I laughed, and began my answer with a question............Isn't that life? Then, I talked about life experiences, the fine art of juggling and how one always needs to re-align expectations with what really happens. It's called Motherhood.

From my perspective, my interview went well. In fact it felt like night and day when I compare it to my previous foray out into the nasty land of job applications about a year and a half ago when I was shortlisted for a Community Development position with the City. Then, I overprepared so much that I was jam packed FULL of information, ideas and giddy enthusiasm that I scared the interviewers, one of which was the Deputy Chief of Police. I'm sure he doesnt scare easily, so I must've been a sight. I was wound so tight that I looked and sounded like a whirling dervish of nervous mania.

This time? I let my experience and my knowledge lead me. The position I was being interviewed for was a Teacher Counsellor........yes...............counselling teachers in 3 school districts who are having a rough go of it for whatever personal reason and facilitating professional development workshops. I was asked questions and given scenarios in the two areas I'm most comfortable discussing and doing.......counselling and facilitating so I had the confidence in myself to know that if I didn't know the answer right away, I would just need to let my intuition guide me. Determined to be a little more in control of how I am perceived I had intended to be low key, until my husband offered his advice.......not to be so low key that my true nature didn't shine. I needed to just be myself. He was right. I decided right then and there that I would wear my orange scarf to show my colour.

A funny thing happened on the way to the interview. When I arrived at the assigned appointment time, I was left to sit in a cavernous room situated in the middle of the second floor of an office building. Staff offices were all located around the perimeter, leaving this unused space which actually didn't feel like a room. It felt more like a really large hallway, carpeted in dirty pink, that had a boardroom table in the middle of it and a bunch of old metal filing cupboards as decor. It was wasted, wasting space. There I sat, and waited, and waited and waited. For 45 minutes, I entertained myself with some wordplay and took in the ambiance, of which there was very little. The silent inactivity was deafening. Though there were probably 40 odd offices on this floor, I didn't hear one phone ring, one keyboard click, one human voice, one photocopier doing it's thing. There was no music to this place. It seemed void of life.

Well........there was one aparitious person who passed by. She was dressed in jeans and high heels, which I always find a very weird combination. She flitted by on her way to a supply room just off this cavern. In her flurry and with her head down, she walked right into the glass partition beside the door. Maybe she thought she really was a ghost. Thump........... I looked up just at the right time to catch her rebound off the glass and her wobble as she tried to maintain her high heel composure. I reacted........and asked if she was alright, but she regained control only to slink into the supply room without acknowledging me. Did I dream that?


Finally, one of the interviewers showed up to escort me to an interogation room that at least had a window out to the real world, which was a good thing because quite honestly, I was feeling disconnected from the bigger world. Quickly I perked myself up, shook hands FIRMLY............... with eye contact, and smiling eyes..................and thought to myself......."It's Showtime!!"

Then, the questions began............all predictable............all open ended to a point where one can get all tied up in knots if one doesn't focus on linearity. I talked and they wrote. I gave examples that clarified the points I wanted to make, carefully choosing examples. They continued to write every single word I uttered..........rarely looking up, except to lob another question...........

yap, yap, yappity, yap.............serious yap, light yap, funny quippy yap, direct and to the point yap...............I yapped until my flap felt flattened. Fuck!

About halfway through the barrage, they asked me about my feelings on "wellness."I told them I was all for it. However, in my mind I was thinking........hmmmmmm I wonder if a martini in one hand and a cig in the other constitutes the beginning of a wellness evening? I wonder if I dare tell them that the term "wellness" makes my skin crawl; that for some reason it conjures up a vivid picture of a child being force fed? Hmmmmmmm.........I wonder if I tell them that wellness is a marketing term to sell a way of being from a book or some motivational tapes that in reality has to come from within.........and it takes a heck of a lot of fortitude?

I got off track.........linearity left me a wee bit I must admit...........the questions continued................my humour meter went up......

Am I willing to work nights and weekends? Am I willing to travel 2 hours each direction from my homebase to counsel people wherever I could find a quiet spot on the side of the road or in a Tim Horton's............but never in the school.............? Am I willing to make presentations to 300 people, all of whom pay union dues to cover the salary? Am I willing to justify my existance so the job remains part of the collective agreement signed by the teachers? Am I willing to offer up my firstborn?

All of a sudden, I find myself spouting off about William Glasser.........chief guru of Choice Theory and Reality Therapy. Glasser's theory highlights the concept that we have certain needs that must be met.........the amount of the need is individualized. One of them is freedom. All of a sudden, I hear myself harking that Glasser would agree that I have a "high freedom need..." In other words......................."let me blow this interview now, because I'm feeling a noose around my neck. I'm not looking to give up my whole complicated and joyful life for a job. I have a life that is full." Well, I think that's how they may have interpreted that.

It wasn't until I found myself gasping for air while rushing out into the natural sunlight heading to my van that I personally realized just how much I didn't fit. By the time I pulled in the driveway of my friend's house for a cup of tea debrief, I had decided that this job was not intended for me. I couldn't envision myself working in such a silent environment, and in a bureaucracy that was a bigger monster than the one I am presently ensconced in. Anne and I had a good laugh over some of my answers................all had been sprinkled with me........

I went into the interview with a set of expectations, and with the intention of moving on from my job working with clients who live on the periphery. I left knowing that this was not the next avenue. It wasn't time to move on. I have more to offer where I am................... I can learn much more before I venture into another galaxy.........

I have struggled in the bureaucracy I presently work in for a very long time. These past couple of months especially have been emotionally debilitating on many levels, mostly because I have been treated like I was being banished. No meetings were arranged by my new supervisor. No welcomes, no workplanning meetings, no job description. In order to deal with this surreal and downright rude situation, I kept my head down and tried to focus on my work with clients. But, I struggled.................and came home on more than one occasion in a heap of tears. Frustrated, angry, feeling invisible and unwanted.............I knew that if I made a fuss, I would be labelled the one with the problem. Normally I am the vocal one when it comes to identifying an injustice. But, I knew that any complaints from me would be perceived (and pointed out in defence) as an inability to deal with change. I had to time my feedback properly.

Today, I attended my first meeting with my new team. I hadn't been informed of the meeting ahead of time...........somehow that email missed me. But, when the agenda arrived with my name first on the list to discuss my "role" with this team.........even though I didn't know what my specific role was............I jumped on it. It was time to get over the anger. It was time to fix my situation. Take the reins.........use my voice..........rattle some cages.............BE HEARD!

I'm happy to state that I was heard.........and was welcomed by a group of really nice people. I now have an idea of what it is they are spending their days doing........and they know what I can offer to them. I also met with my supervisor's boss and opened up my heart. A few snotty kleenexes later ( he told me he can handle tears better than anger.............I told him my tears stop me from loudly telling someone to piss off ).................we had managed to come up with a great project for me to tackle in the New Year and to turn the page on a very shitty beginning. I'm excited again.

Oh.................right after my day long meetings, my phone rang. They decided to go with someone else, but they REALLY enjoyed my interview. It was a great deal of fun, he said.

I told him that I was quite comfortable with his message, that I enjoyed myself as well, and that they could catch my act next week. I'm headlining at the Kit Kat club.........

Emerging Spirit

I am but one cell, housed with similarly shaped cells that function best when working together.
I am but one cell, sharing a home with differently shaped cells.
Separated though interconnecting functions. Trying to work together.
I am but one cell...........one of millions and millions of cells at home in the body.
All with equal importance.........all accepted and needed.
Sharing a faith,
Learning a faith,
Living a faith strengthen by compassionate love and forgiveness.
Faith held by a Guiding internal skeleton.
This is the Body of Christ of which I am but one cell.

Thanks to Philip Yancey and Dr. Paul Brand's collaborative efforts, I was offered an epiphany today. Epiphanies are always welcome, but they do seem that much more special when they happen on a Sunday.

Epiphany..........what a musical word. When I say it in my head, it is always accompanied by the sound of a piccolo. Are epiphanies always joyful? Are negative epiphanies called something else?

Fearfully and Wonderfully Made is an insightful book which I am enjoying immensely. Brand's physiological analogy, using human bones and our skeleton as a representation of the gospel offers a visual that I can comprehend. It is the internal structure, the skeleton that allows the body to function. Inner meaning housed in our bones. Rules and Christian values that allow us freedom of movement.

Inner faith. Not worn outwardly. Lived and practised through actions.

The inner skeleton feeds and promotes spiritual growth. If our faith is worn on the outside of our skin, or as a hard shell, the fluidity of the lessons of Christianity become hardened and steadfast. A hard shell encases us in a ritualistic and fundamental structure that doesn't offer us room for interpretation of the gospel.

Brand states: "Jesus understood that rules and governing behaviour are meant to free movement and promote growth as a vertebrate skeleton does, not to inhibit growth as an exoskeleton does." He continues................ "If doctrines and rules are worn externally as a show of pride in spiritual superiority, the exoskeleton obscures God's grace and love, making the Christian gospel ugly and unattractive."

If the rules of the gospel are too rigid, too encasing..............basically if you don't "tow the line" completely, you won't receive God's approval? This has always been my personal "beef" with organized religion. I've never been comfortable with someone pushing their beliefs on me. In fact, I've never been comfortable when I have been cornered like that on any topic. Covenant claustrophia perhaps?? Smothering suggestible sinning? No. I want to live my life with a skeleton that allows me to find my way.......with a growing faith, with an internal compass to guide me.

Inner thought..............down deep. Yes.

An epiphany to nourish this little cell. It has been a fruitful day.

"The gospel is a gift freely given by God to people who don't deserve it"
Dr. Paul Brand.

Remembrance Day Service

Service and support for the Nation's Armed Forces holds special meaning in this part of the country. Unlike Ontario where the majority of people wouldn't even know an individual in the services personally, where the only recognition of Remembrance Day would occur at cenotaphs for an hour long ceremony, where all businesses remained open like it was a typical day, New Brunswick respectfully shuts down. Paying homage to the War Veterans and supporting the men and women presently in the Forces is taken seriously. CFB Gagetown, located close to my home is an integral part of the community fabric. The families linked closely to the base live in our neighbourhoods. As much as the war in Afghanistan seems surreal and far away when one watches the news on TV, it is felt deeply here. Every death is tragic. Every soldier is respected. Soon, many of our neighbours and family members will be deployed in the next round heading to Kandahar.

All year, I had forced myself to pay more attention to the conflict and to the stories behind the individuals who make up our Forces. I grew up in Ontario far away from an armed forces base, when years ago Remembrance Day was relegated to a 2 minute silence, while still attending classes. We didn't have the day off. We were detached from our history. Ever since I moved to the Maritimes, Remembrance Day and the role of our troops in the global community has taken on a much more significant meaning. Still, I wanted to understand it viscerally. I wanted to know why anyone would consider a life as a soldier. It still seemed a bit foreign to me. So this year, I watched the solemn funeral services of the fallen soldiers. I read many articles about the war to learn about the reasons behind our involvement. I absorbed the heartfelt stories Christie Blatchford wrote in the Globe and Mail about her intimate contact with the young soldiers entrenched in the war against the Taliban. It helped me feel more engaged with my neighbours.

Two personal encounters also provided an opportunity to shift my perspective and to allow me a much needed human touch.

Last winter I taught a counselling course at the University and serendiptously met a young reservist who had signed up to take my course. He was graduating with a degree in History and Political Science, had been sponsored by the armed forces to attend university, so why take a counselling course? He wanted to learn more effective ways to interact with his peers and with his Commanding Officer. He had also been pegged by the Forces to take part in a mediation type group who would be deployed to Kandahar to work with the local people. Bright and articulate but blunt in his assessment of other's skills during the times when they practiced in class, he quickly rose to the top of the class once he grasped the intricasies of how you couch your words.......of how you actively listen to the feelings behind the words.... of how you must choose the right approach by assessing the other individual's level of receptivity.

Of all the students in the class, he and I gravitated to one another during breaks where we would quickly jump into a discussion on the nuances of political theory, or the recent political climate, or a particular columnists' view on a topic. He had many questions pertaining to the lessons of the day and wanted to understand it more deeply. He was fascinated by my career and passion for working with people and I of his. Neither of us wanted to switch places, that's for sure but there was an underlying respect for our chosen paths. Today, he is in Kandahar. I havent heard from him since the day of the final exam, though I think of him often.

A couple of weeks ago, I had the pleasure of sharing lunch with another reservist. A graduate of RMC in Kingston, and an Officer who has experienced both the war in Afghanistan and a peace keeping mission in Bosnia working directly under General Hillier, he is now looking forward to making a run at the political arena, which was why we were meeting. It was an opportunity for both of us to get to share views and stories......his from the frontlines of the war, and mine from the frontlines of the fight against poverty. His stories offered me a clearer glimpse of the dedication and drive of our troops, for which I am grateful.

These two deeply felt encounters drove my determination this year to attend the Remembrance Day services. I hadn't attended in several years, mostly because I am a blathering idiot when it comes to anything emotionally intense and I didn't want to make a complete fool of myself in such a public venue. Add the sounds of the bugle and the bagpipes and I'm toast. Oh..........who am I kidding? I have been known to shed tears over Kodak commercials for goodness sake. I have found that the older I get, the more weepy I can be.........songs and emotionally stirring events zap my composure. So, knowing that I would most likely lose it, and still determined to attend to show my support, I donned my bright red coat, my poppy on my lapel and a big wad of kleenex in my pocket and went.

Scores of families and individuals lined Queen Street as the Veterans, the warm sun shining on their youthful souls led the parade to the Cenotaph. There were many more people attending than I expected. Applause filled the air, as we all watched the men and women in full regalia march behind.........representatives from CFB Gagetown, local RCMP proudly in their red uniforms, the little cadets with their familiar white hats, Scouts, and Girl guides and Brownies and Cubs...........local politicians and representatives of the Legion were all in the parade. With lumps in our throats and swelling hearts, we stood on the curb feeling grateful and proud.

Pomp and tradition and pride.

The service itself was a little less polished, though by no means less meaningful. Somehow in between the hymns, the prayers, the silence, the lone bagpiper and the bugler.........somehow while representatives laid wreaths, there was a bit of levity when the gentleman leading the service read a poem he had written about an old salty Vet who fought in the war and then returned to live amongst us as a husband and father. His words made the crowd unexpectantly chuckle.

And as I sang our national anthem with the thousands in attendance..........as I sang God Save the Queen.........as I sang Abide With Me.....................I realized that it had been a long time since I had been given an opportunity to sing those songs..............I realized that my small voice allowed me to feel engaged to my community, to the history of my country and to what the future may hold.

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead. Short days ago

We lived, saw dawn, felt sunset glow,

Loved, and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

Take up your quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

John McCrae.

More than remembering

Can you hear the lonely echo of the solitary bugle?
Can you hear the shivering anguish in the silence between the notes?
stark
suppressed
sorrow
Today we stand together in silent tears
Listening to the heart pain of past and present wars.
The spirit echo

More than remembering
More than remembering
More than remembering

A U2 Morning........

The sunrise this morning wasn't bursting with colour. Rather, it was subdued. But as soon as the sun was up over the horizon, it shone with blinding brilliance.......warming my eyes, warming my spirits. It was the nod I needed to dust off my fog........to prepare for a beautiful day. Just in time to be me. I will wear my orange scarf ..... a taste of the colour I have to offer.

"It's a beautiful day
Don't let it get away
It's a beautiful day"

"What you don't know, you can feel it somehow"

Tea, Toast and Teachable Moments

One of my favourite photos -

Boy and his trusty companion,
circa spring 2000

Today is a tea and toast kind of day. Though its much warmer than a typical November day in this part of the world, there's no point in venturing outside. Grey permeates the outdoors as the rain continues to fall. Funny how that backdrop seems to make the grass on the lawns in the neighbourhood look so green and lush.

I'm home today with my son. Normally, he's an early riser like me but this morning he was cocooned under a duvet complaining of a belly ache that miraculously disappeared the moment I told him that we would call in sick and stay home. I could tell all week that he was wiped out and needed a break. His pale little face revealed all. So, as I write this he is hunkered down on the sofa under a blanket in his Sponge-Bob jammies catching up on cartoons and sports news. He's had his toast and apple juice served to him..........the colour is returning to his relieved cheeks.

Sometimes we just need a break....................and a time to catch up on conversations.

Some of the most interesting conversations I have are with my 9 year old son. He has one of the most inquisitive ticking brains that I know. It's always been that way. When he was attending daycare as a preschooler for example, the car ride to the centre almost always included a thought provoking question from Max in the backseat thrown forward to his sleep deprived parents in the front..........often he would perseverate on a topic, allowing it to ruminate over and over encompassing a whole week of related questions. Other times, the questions or the topic would arrive out of the blue. Sometimes he just wanted a simple answer.......... and other times he just wanted some additional information to glue onto the stuff he already knew. Many times, he left his mom and dad baffled and wondering how to answer.

Do you think there are more grains of sand on the beaches than stars in the sky? What is the capital of Chad (he was stuck on the country Chad for a couple of weeks........don't know why, but we all seemed to learn a lot about this African country which previously hadn't given much thought to) How does the gas make the car work? What time is it now in Australia? What is your favourite kind of dog? Why do the leaves turn colour?

On and on and on.................brain food for all...................

My son is a sponge for learning. Not a darn thing gets past him. He is an alert observing being whose senses pick up all sonar blips. The Christmas season when he was 3, Max asked me whose birthday it was we celebrated.
"Jesus," I stated.
"Jesus? Heeeeeeeeee was born on Christmas Day?"
"Yes. Jesus was born on Christmas Day to Mary and Joseph." Thinking that this was a teachable moment, I stopped what I was doing, turned to face Max to give him more information. "He was born in a Manger in........." Max interupted with a quizzical look on his face and asked..........
"Well then who's Geez? You are always talking about Geez? I thought it was his birthday on Christmas.........??"

Busted! Note to self.............mind your gutter mouth............

Max learned numerical concepts like a duck to water. He was born to count, to calculate and to store statistics in his personal calculator in order to spew them out to support the point he is attempting to make or to answer a question..........or to drive us bonkers. Our fridge was covered in magnetic numbers. He could count in his head from the age of 2. A multi-tasker in the male sense of the word, he actually learned to count while learning to use the facilities. That is where male multi-tasking occurs, right?

Adding turned into multiplication at the side of his older sister as she struggled to memorize her "times tables" in 4th grade with the help of verbal quizzing. Max at age 5 then had them licked the first go around. Drove his sister crazy! Now that he's in Grade 4, when I look at his agenda book to see if he has accomplished the list of homework duties and see that he has a Math quiz on mulitiplication........I lob him one............."Max, what's 8X7?"
Without a beat he answers.........."56, Why?"
"OK.......What's 7X7 minus 8, plus 3?"
"44, Why?"
"Just wanted to see if you were ready for you Math test tomorrow."
"Geez, Mom...........of course I am. Do you think it's gravity that keeps the oxygen around us so that we can stay alive?"
"Ah...............sure..................gravity and Geez."

Sometimes his questions drive you batty. He can be incessant with the statistics. It was like we created this monster when we introduced him to hockey and then to the game of baseball, the jackpot of serious statisticians. The tap turned on and he hasn't found a satiation point. It's quite hilarious to hear him discussing some little sports tidbit on the phone with his Grandfather (another sports fanatic). You'd swear they were peers. The two of them went to Cooperstown this past summer to take in the Baseball Hall of Fame. Wish I had armed them with a tape recorder................. the questions and permutions of past glories..................manna.........

Every morning starts with a trip to the Sports channel to catch up on the latest scores, highlights and stats.............it doesn't matter which sport it is, Maxwell has the angle.

He's not a serious little chap all the time, my Max. He's actually quite funny and if he wants to he can whip up the laughter quotient in the house with one wicked quip or dance move. In fact, it is his desire to be a comedian when he grows up. Jack Black and Will Ferrell are in his radar. Can create a rap lyrical song off the top of his head........changes the words to songs to fit the scenario at will........just like the funniest man I know...........his Dad.

Last night he was asking me if lawyers make a good salary. When I stated that yes, they did and that he would make a great lawyer because his brain worked in that way ..........he responded very quickly with ..........."Now that would be a good combination .......a Lawyer Comedian .......betcha there aren't many of those."

Yeah Max, normally they are the butt of the joke.

Lately, we have been playing Scrabble in the evenings. I have yet to win a game, but the two of us have had many laughs over the definition of words and scoring calculations. (Geez, I look at that sentence and think..................how friggin' geeky is that?) The other night, I had put the word "perm" on the board for oh........about 5 points. Max added a the letter "s" to the front of the word and asked me the obvious question.................what is sperm? As I took a breath and tried to figure out how much information he really wanted to know..........I started in on the definition........."well.................." Like always.......but this time with a look on his face that told me he hadn't realized he was heading down the path of discussing sex with his Mom..........he used the new information with the stored brain stuff and replied.........."So, they are like tiny tadpoles. I store tiny tadpoles? I am made up of tadpoles? Gross...........OK........that "s" is on a double word score........so that's 12 points for me. I'm winning........"

He makes me laugh out loud. His take on life makes his whole family laugh out loud. He also makes my heart melt.

Last night, as I reading and Max was playing a basketball game on his gamecube, out of the blue and with feeling, he asked me..............."Mom, how has your life been so far?" Given that the night before I was venting my anger and tears over an unrelated personal incident by turning into a mad hatter craft designer at the dining room table, which he observed.........I thought he was gauging how I was still feeling. Testing the waters so to speak. I assuredly answered that I was quite happy with my life..............

"How about you, Max?"

He answered......"I don't know why I've been thinking about this so much, but I think I'm very lucky. I have a great life. So many others don't."

He stopped me in my tracks, like many times before. I realized that it had much more to do with the news of the world, the upcoming Remembrance Day, and connected to the book he is reading in school about a girl who lived during World War II. He was connecting the dots in his head again. I put down my book and moved over to the couch closer to him. Together we discussed the importance of family and friends, of love and belonging, of living in Canada and not having to live in a place where war and lack of food is a constant, and of being responsible for others who are less fortunate because of our personal fortunes.

A teachable moment for both of us.............as always.

Satisfied with the conversation, his little ticking brain clicked when he realized the time. He jumped onto the couch, tucked in beside me and turned on the real basketball game........the Raptors were playing. Lucky for us............more stats to add up.

Thought du jour............

"It requires greater courage to preserve inner freedom,
to move on in one's inward journey into new realms,
than to stand defiantly for outer freedom.
It is often easier to play the martyr,
as it is to be rash in battle. "
Rollo May

fulfillment.........................

We have all been given an individual pattern to use in our lives, woven with our own abilities, talents, temperment and visions. Uniquely threaded, uniquely displaying our own fingerprint; a design which holds the story of our potential.

Destiny's tapestry

If you were to place the pattern up on the mantel above the fireplace while you stood back to view it, you may be able to admire the combination of colours and the blur of the lines, but you'll find that it's difficult to decipher the pattern clearly and you may simply walk away from it...........forgetting the intricacies, forgetting the design.

If you were to show it to a friend to ask them for their interpretation of the pattern, they could possibly offer descriptive insights which may allow you to see it in a new light. Food for thought, but in the end it's your interpretation of the pattern that matters

If you were to make a shawl from the pattern to wear over your shoulders, keeping you warm.........allowing you to see it under different lighting.................offering you an opportunity to adjust the fit...............it would always be there to admiringly consider while you learned of it's intricacies.

Your own tapestry.............your own shawl of many colours................to wear down the path to fulfilling your destiny.



Knowing the make up of your pattern will allow you to choose your unique path ...... will allow you to unfold your talents, your fingerprint...............will guide you towards fulfilling the destiny God has designed for you.

Crossing the Street.

We garner friends for different reasons or needs. Some are people with whom we share a long history - we grew up together in the same neighbourhood, attending the same schools, hanging out in eachother's backyards. The bond is often of similar childhood events, shared locality and possibly nothing more. If you're really really lucky you may find your lifelong kindred friend in your old neighbourhood, but most likely you have to venture off that safe street.


Someone once said: "Similarities create friendship's while differences hold them together." Maybe the differences have to be found a couple of streets over, once you leave your front yard to expand your boundaries, ideas, values, and life experiences. Along the way, paths cross with others who often are asking the same questions, who share similar belief systems or are respectful and receptive to exploring another way of looking at life. Most challenge your own thinking by tossing you a few new crumbs to whet your appetite.

They become part of your journey, for short bursts of time, or perhaps for the long haul. It all depends on your shared circumstances. It depends on your destination. No matter how long a person touches your life as a friend they cannot cross your path of destiny without leaving some kind of mark on it forever. Kindred friends? They are the people who can reflect the best in you. Each one leaves a unique footprint. Each one impacts how you look at the world, and sometimes how you react to it.


Similiarities............differences.............respect for both...........a short path to a warm welcome.

It’s funny. For a long time, I lived with a myth in my head that you get to an age when you don’t develop new friendships. Who knows where this bizarre misconception evolved? Who knows where any of those goofy notions come from? No matter……it did and I did think that way. Luckily that spell was broken. I have learned that new friendships can be established as often as you allow them to. It may be more difficult however, to meet new people if you remain only within your daily realm. Yes……you may have to leave the safe street and venture out to another avenue, open to differences, receptive to an accent that may have a different twang to it.

We tend to live our routines, surrounded by the same individuals day in and out. Consequently, we can easily lose our confidence in reaching out. It does takes effort and a dash of daringness to risk holding out a flowering branch to a new person. Is it the possibility of rejection that stop us in our tracks? Or maybe we’re too busy in our lives, or have forgotten how to leave our safe back yards…………. I don’t know. We get too comfy to bother, even though the opportunity to learn, to grow and to acquire the gifts one can feel only through a friendship........... maybe all these reasons stop us from reaching out.

What I do believe NOW is that a new friend………you know the kind? Those kindreds whom you feel you’ve known forever (or possibly in a past life perhaps??)………..one who reflects the best I have to offer and I to them…..well, they are WELL worth the jaunt across the street to break bread and drink wine with.




Oh, the comfort,

the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person;

having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words,

but to pour them all out,

just as they are,

chaff and grain together,

knowing that a faithful hand will take and sift them,

keep what is worth keeping,

and then,

with a breath of kindness,

blow the rest away.

George Eliot.

"The meeting of two personalities is like
the contact of two chemical substances:
if there is any reaction, both are transformed."
Carl Jung.

We encounter many people in our individual daily lives. The majority of the time, we breeze in and out of eachother's spheres without a breath of transformation. Then, one day someone taps you on the back, when you're least expecting it.......often you don't even know why. Sometimes it happens in the most bizarre location ........ like through the blogworld..... like when you're in a waiting room...... like on a bus, in your office, at the school, stuck somewhere because of glitch................ tap, tap................ and you feel like you've known this new person your whole life.

A glimpse of God's grace? Possibly.

Rare as a sparkling gem, the sheen from the connection catches the eye of your soul. When was the last time you felt a transforming tap, tap?

Exploiting the little Ducklings

Do you remember taking the little orange Unicef boxes with you while trick or treating on Halloween night? While you were getting your pillowcase filled with goodies from the neighbours, you also were collecting pennies for third world kids. This was probably the first experience we all had as children to understand that there was a whole world out there that was very different than what we found in our backyards. Poverty, hunger, lack of clean water, lack of proper shelter... kids and their families who needed us.

Unicef has been a leader in educating our youth about giving. Empathy and understanding of other cultures, awareness of our responsibilities as citizens of a global village through the opportunity of being a part of a fundraiser. This year, you didn't see the little boxes for the first time in 50 years. Instead, Unicef launched a new type of campaign for school kids to take part in. The official launch in this province took place at my son's school, with his class taking part. Over the years, Garden Creek School has been a leader in the province for collecting the most change in the Unicef boxes than any other school as a result of an interactive and proactive lesson plan to inform the kids of the importance of raising the money. By the time the little orange boxes would arrive to bring home, they were pumped. Consequently, it made sense to kickstart the new approach in the Grade 4 class.

An excerpt from the Unicef website...........

While the campaign continues to fund UNICEF’s many programmes worldwide, 50 per cent of proceeds from this year’s campaign will benefit schools in Malawi as part of the Schools for Africa programme, a joint initiative between UNICEF and the Nelson Mandela Foundation. “In my 28 years working with UNICEF around the world, I have seen how making education accessible to children can transform entire communities,” said Nigel Fisher, president and CEO, UNICEF Canada. “Education enhances the lives of children, giving them the knowledge necessary to protect themselves from disease and to take on productive roles within society.”

The Schools for Africa programme supports the construction and rehabilitation of schools in six African countries including Malawi, and provides educational materials and teacher training to improve children’s quality of education.

So.................my son and his friends came home pumped about helping to build schools in Malawi. For each 20 dollars raised, a "brick" would be provided for the new school in Malawi. It's wonderful that their worlds have been expanded to understand that so many other children in this world don't have access to an education, and how privileged they are to be able to attend school and to live in such an opulent community compared to so many others. This is a lesson we all need to learn. Giving and sharing of our bounty is a value I wholeheartedly belief and espouse. So....................why did I have such an adversive feelings about this campaign?

The average amount collected per box across this country was a mere $1.65..........I guess it wasn't worth it trying to expand on that? Instead, an envelope arrived home in every kids backpack with meagre instructions as to how this Unicef campaign was supposed to work. Why? Because all the organization was looking for was a cheque written out by the parents. In this province, young children are not allowed to go door to door soliciting for money or selling chocolate bars or anything else, and I agree with this. It was getting out of hand. However, as soon as I got wind of the change in Unicef plans, something got stuck in my craw.

I have no qualms about supporting Unicef's efforts. I fully understand the need to give. I want to give. What I'm adverse about is the fact that Unicef is now exploiting our children. It has gone from an organization that was TEACHING through fundraising in a manner that offered an opportunity for young ones to FEEL and DO themselves. Filling up the little orange box when I was young was a eye-opening process and when I took it back to school, I felt that I had done something for the betterment of other children. I saw how this process impacted my own children too. What lesson has been learned this year (despite the ongoing talk mail updates from the school about how "proud" the kids were with the amount they were amassing etc ) ???? They have learned the facts and they have learned how to return an envelope with a cheque in it to their teacher and be praised for it. There is a complete disconnect here.

What other fundraising non-profit organization has easy access to a bunch of wide eyed easily impressionable individuals? Does the Heart and Stroke Foundation get to conduct a rally in February? What about Oxfam? World Vision? They may just want to jump on this bandwagon, because the guilt ridden Moms and Dads managed to fork out enough cash to double the amount raised through the orange boxes. I'm happy for the kids of Malawi, I truly am. I'm not happy with this approach..................

Portaging That Blue Canoe

Have you ever portaged a canoe? Sometimes it's a breezy beaverdam liftover. Other times, it's a back breaking sweat inducing ordeal. If the weight of the canoe doesn't do you in, the pesky mosquitoes will. Most times though, the portage from one body of water to another is manageable. If you prepare..........if you balance the weight............if you share the load.........if you know basically where you're headed....if you take a breather every once in a while, it's manageable. Sure, it may seem daunting at first when you are paddling up to the shore thinking of the task ahead, and wondering if you're up to it. But, there has never been a time when I have portaged a canoe and not been filled with a heaping helping of satisfaction when the job was done.

Transitioning from one lake to another allows you to venture into personal unchartered territory with a whole new vista. Sometimes..........the trip leads to enchanted forrests.

I'm thinking that it's time for me to slip into the stern of my blue canoe and go for a paddle. It may be November, and this may be a metaphor................... but I think the time is right to work on my J-stroke and head towards the next portage. And while I practise my paddling and get a feel again for balancing the canoe just right, I'll prepare for the liftover...........or the other back breaking kind the best that I can.


PS. I have a job interview next week.................to test the waters.........

dogs and love

Yesterday during my work related travels, I was greeted by a shiny bouncy black Lab named Buck. Still a pup at 4 months, he was all tumbly legs and paws with a head a little too big for his growing body. I wasn't expecting such an enthusiastic and endearingly big eyed hello, but was thrilled nonetheless. I meet many dogs in my travels and there aren't many that I don't warm up to. How can you not? Dogs are the epitome of unconditional love. They are also patient teachers of sharing love too.

Buck was a present to the young man I met with yesterday. His brother gave him the dog in the summer after the young man was released from the rehabilitation centre in town where he was recooperating after a head injury from a car accident last March when he went off the road and catapulted into the ditch. Because he wasn't wearing a seatbelt, this young man went through the windshield, landing unconcious. It was the perfect gift. What a wise brother.

At the beginning of my session with the young man, Buck was insistent on maintaining our attention. Still teething, he was keen to tackle my long scarf and the cuff of my jacket as I tried to write down some information at the kitchen table. His puppy behaviour continued as the young man and his mother tried to discipline him. "Submission" and "obeying" are not in Buck's impulsive puppy vocabulary. Buck doesn't even get "no" yet.........not when there's a new face and a tasty looking scarf to tackle. However, his antics broke the ice right away, which in turn allowed my conversation with the young man (once Buck was marched down to his room) to start at a level more conducive to sharing his story than it would've without the puppy intrusion.

The young man, who is still in the stages of healing and regaining his long term memory, wants to work. We were meeting to look at his options, and to look at the possibilities available to him. When I asked him where he saw himself 5 years from now, the young man stated that he wanted to have a trade in carpentry, wanted to be working full-time, living in his own home and spending his weekends playing golf and going hunting with Buck. Nothing lofty......possibly attainable..........but he's basically starting from scratch because he can't remember his past.

It was evident though that with Buck's help, both directly and indirectly, his memories are returning. Yesterday for example, the young man started building a dog house. He told me that he doesn't know HOW he knows how to build things. He can't remember that part. But, as soon as he started on the project, the skills and knowledge automatically came to him. When he takes Buck for a walk in a neighbourhood he grew up in, he has moments of clarity when he looks at a house and remembers who lives in it.

Buck will force the young man out of his shell.............he will motivate him more than the young man realizes. Prior to the accident, the young man was irresponsible and lacked any kind of direction for his future. Living in the moment, grabbing a job here and there, he was biding his time partying and keeping his head in the sand. Now....... he is realizing that he needs to make decisions, to be responsible, to look towards his future which easily could've been snuffed out tragically.

We had a good first meeting. When I was leaving, Buck came barrelling out of the room to playfully say goodbye and to regain his buddy's full attention. Showing and sharing love.

I meet many families in my travels who are wounded for one reason or another. Trauma, heartbreaking life events, shit luck, addictions, abuse, illness.............wounds that need to heal. One thing I have learned time and again is the priceless therapeutic value a pet can have on an individual or a whole family........especially dogs. Not only that, some dogs have the ability to protect and alert a family member.......not just of physical intrusive danger, but even of an upcoming seizure. Pet therapy is more powerful than we give it credit for. That's why when I heard last week that there is a legislative policy in place indicating that a family is not allowed to have pets in public housing, I was appalled. That's right! No cats, birds, hamsters, gerbils, or dogs are allowed to move into public housing in this province..........even if it the animal has been identified as a "therapeutic" pet.

Good thing Buck lives with the young man and his family outside of the gates of the modern day almshouses...........and can run free teaching about giving and receiving love.

What about the families that have to live inside the gates?