Tuesday, March 31, 2009
I noticed language and barriers while in the post office. I live in a suburban area of a very large urban centre. There are many people living here who come from other countries, other worlds, other cultures and they have chosen to make Canada their home. This is not about whether or not this is "appropriate" or whether or not I approve. This is the world. We all inhabit it. We all share it. I was struck by the older woman who was obviously from India. She was trying to pick up a package that had been delivered to her while she was not at home. In order to pick up a package you must show ID that includes your name and your address. This woman did not have that. The post office clerk was very patient in asking for what she needed. The other woman was at a loss. Over and over the clerk politely told her that she would need to show some ID that included her address. Eventually the woman was given a pamphlet that explained it and told to come back after having someone explain this in her own language. One man in the lineup tried but they obviously speak different dialects as the woman was still confused. I noticed the woman approach a young woman who went through it with her. I was struck by how difficult everyday life is for those who come from other worlds and don't have English as their first language. It's easy to say "learn the language" but I believe it is probably difficult for older people to learn. That isn't to say that it isn't important to try and as I don't know this woman's story, I can't speak to that. Luckily there is a large enough population of so many cultures that newcomers are bound to bump into someone who can help. As I stood there I thought how difficult it would be for me if I was in a different country and didn't speak the language. I suppose there would be fewer of my culture, my countrymen to help me and I realized how diverse my own country has become, even in the last 5 years. I also realized that communication is much more than just words.
I noticed the other day that David Caruso is a very bad actor. I was watching old episodes of "CSI Miami" and laughing with my son about how comic he is...the lines he is given, how he delivers them -- he is almost a caricature of himself. And I noticed how good it was to laugh at that -- not at him, at what he does, what he says. And yet the programme is still enjoyable even with his one liners and those insidious sunglasses. He even holds them in his hands when he shoots his gun. Now THAT my friends is talent!!! lol!!
Monday, March 30, 2009
"The greatest danger for most of us is not that our aim is too high and we miss it, but that it is too low and we reach it."
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
I was never a chocolate lover, until I had chemotherapy in 2005-06 and something changed in my chemistry. Suddenly, chocolate was something that I craved at specific times. Times like change, thinking, planning, searching for answers. I find I'll reach for chocolate in ways I never did before...it helps me think. That's my story and I'm sticking to it....now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to raid the "secret stash" ... I've some "thinking" to do...
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
I played this song on one of my old blogs ages ago...but it just seems perfect to me for the first day of spring...light, airy, breezy, toe wiggling, kite flying, bike riding...and I LOVE the words
Thursday, March 19, 2009
I love to scroll through decorating blogs...fresh ideas, gorgeous photography, inspiration...so much possibility.
Check out The Shabby Nest in this post for a wonderful giveaway....and scroll through the beauty that Wendy shares. For more of Wendy's work, you can find her etsy shop here.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
I credit Carolyn Keene and Nancy Drew for my humble beginnings with the heart racing, breath stopping lure of discovering what lies behind the closed door...and do you dare to open it.
I loved every one of the Nancy Drew mysteries. The titles alone made my eyes pop open..."The Secret of the Old Clock", "The Clue of the Tapping Heels", "The Mystery at the Moss Covered Mansion", "The Hidden Staircase", "The Secret in the Old Attic"... I was spellbound by the daring and the intelligence of Nancy, Bess, Ned and George. Never mind that Nancy had her trusty red roadster to get her from mystery to mystery and trusty Hannah Gruen to make sure all her needs were met...I was enthralled by the sense of daring and danger.
It wasn't a stretch for me to stay with that genre once I had finished the Nancy Drew series and outgrown that level of reading material. Daphne DuMaurier slithered into my heart and replaced Carolyn Keene's innocent mystery with much darker tales, and I cannot forget Charlotte Bronte's Gothic heroine Jane Eyre...the book that continues to be near the top of my favourites.
This has made me realize that who we are at age 10 continues to grow and flourish with us as we age and I can still "feel" how I felt holding those Nancy Drew books, sitting in my bed long past the time when lights were meant to be out, reading along with my flashlight illuminating and adding to the mystery.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Monday, March 9, 2009
Sunday, March 8, 2009
A number of years ago when I was in the midst of chemotherapy I was involved with a group of people, some of whom made that experience bearable and empowering, some of whom made it, or tried to make it, a load to carry on an already burdened back. I knew these people and worked with them and their children through my son's sporting activities, and because I was in a position of "authority" (for lack of a better word), they seemed to feel that I had "power" and that they did not like. Stripping me of that was their goal. That they didn't like me was evident and something that I simply had to cope with, but most of their dislike came from the position I was in...how could it not be. They didn't even "know" me as a person, therefore it had to be about "who" I was in their eyes. That they were misinformed and mistaken about the "power" I had was not irrelevant. It took only one or two people to begin talking to create an arena of meanness, based on what they wanted to have and could not have and deciding that I was the barrier to their desires.
There I was, already beaten and bowed with cancer and dealing with it's treatment. I was "down" but I was far from "out" and yet, they didn't know that either. They knew nothing of my strength, my resolve, my spirit, my faith, my core of support from caring, giving, compassionate people. But they knew how to seize an opportunity and were quick to kick me while I was down at every opportunity they could create. In my naive innocence, I was stunned that people would stoop so low. I was already in a precarious state with not just my health, but with my life, and here they were, having a kick at the can to satisfy whatever their "need" was. My innocence about people was quickly killed along with all the living cells in my body. But I took from this experience and I learned and I "understood" and realized that the very act of meanness, of mean spirited people has been alive since the dawn of man.
Friday, March 6, 2009
These prints are copyrighted to Lani Kent and Healing Expressions and are not to be used without permission. Many thanks to Lani for her permission to use them here.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Patti Digh started writing these essays on her blog 37 Days and was then encouraged to turn the essays into book form. The question of "why 37 days?" is described as follows in the prologue of the book:
At some point in your life, you'll only have thirty-seven days to live. Maybe that day is today. Maybe not.
Such a day arrived on October 24, 2003, for a 6-foot, 5-inch-tall man with a southern accent, a golfer's tan, five World War II Bronze Stars, and a forest-green Lincoln Town Car. On that beautiful autumn day, he was diagnosed with lung cancer. He died just thirty-seven days later.
That man was my stepfather, Boyce. I helped him live -- and die -- in those brief days between diagnosis and death, a process that prompted me to ask,
What would I be doing today if I only had thirty-seven days to live?
things that are "done" to us, the things that are happening around us. Living intentionally isn't an unheard of concept, but it is one that we take for granted, that we don't give enough credence to. Patti's words and her experiences open the window to shed light on something that has been there all along, but to which most of us have kept the curtains drawn.
A few years ago I had a day where the reality of my own mortality hit me like a sledge hammer and I knew I might only have 37 (or less, maybe more) days left to live. And from that moment I began to live a more mindful life. This book has been a wonderful reminder to continue doing that, to make sure each day I find the possibility in life.
What would you be doing if you only had 37 days to live?
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
I was reading a blog interview about Brenda Wampler last week after which I scrolled through her blog and her etsy shop where my eyes were drawn to this charm necklace that said "Experience Life".
It doesn't say "live life" or "live your best life" as is so often said, it says "experience" life and I couldn't help but think about the difference between simply "living" life and "experiencing" life. How often do we go through the motions, go through the days of routine that we could probably do in our sleep? How often do we stop and "experience" what we are doing, even the most mundane tasks like driving, doing the dishes, preparing a meal? Experiencing life doesn't have to mean going white water rafting, travelling the globe or thrill seeking. It can simply mean experiencing that moment...the smell from peeling an orange, the sound a bird makes early in the morning, the feel of a pet's tongue when it gives you a kiss. And how you feel about those things, how they make you feel.
What a wonderful reminder -- to experience what you are doing every moment, every day.