@home away from home

Rajshahi Continues: Another Friend’s village, Tea with Mama, and a Pre-Wedding Party

2011-04-13T12:23:00.000-06:00

Today is my grandfather’s birthday. Today my thoughts were filled with him. I miss him a lot, he was really special.

It has been a quiet day to myself so far. I’ve agreed to meet 3 different friends at some point in the day, one at 2, one at 5, one at 730, and one at 930, lol… jeez, talk about a busy social calendar - this is SO unlike me! This morning I slept in until 8 and then uploaded photos to my zip drive so I could make CDs for the friends who had gone on trips with me. I went for a late breakfast at 930 in my favourite restaurant. It’s been awhile since I’ve been there alone, so the restaurant staff took advantage of the time to gather round and watch me eat and push one another for the job of refilling my water or bringing extra food to my table.

I tried the market a couple times to get the photo CDs made, but the power outages were quite bad today so I kept missing my chance! I did finally drop them off while the power was on and half-way through the power went out. You might think that people who depend on computers as part of their job would have some sort of battery backup to at least get them through saving or finishing the one thing they were working on, but I have only seen one person set up this way so far.

So after the market I met my friend Limon for lunch. We went to Hilsha Fish, a restaurant near the Shai Bazaar and had fish, green mango, daal and rice, it was very nice. When we finished lunch we went on our way to visit his family. While enroute I got a call from Shahed that his son was very sick and he had been given emergency leave to go home for a week, he asked me to meet him at the station. Limon was good enough not to mind and we redirected our rickshaw wallah back the way we came to meet at the station.

Shahed arrived and said he was going to try and get a ticket for later that evening after he went back and got his bags. Turned out that there was a train leaving shortly and he decided to take it because he would get home six hours sooner. I waited while he bought a ticket and visited for the half hour until the train arrived. His roommate also came, he is a good friend, and he visited with Limon while I visited with Limon. This is probably the last time I am going to see him, so I was sad to leave and couldn’t help the tears as he boarded and the train left the station… man, goodbyes are hard, WHY don‘t they get any easier?

We stood on the platform and I waved for as long as I could still see Shahed with his whole upper body sticking out the train window waving and disappearing into the distance. Limon did a good job of trying to cheer me up and we continued on our way again to meet his family. I pushed my head “back in the game” and let go of my sadness and chatted with Limon in the rickshaw.

“We are not a rich family…” was how he began as we pulled into his neighbourhood, and I shushed him and told him I didn’t care about how rich his family might be, that I was just happy to be visiting. First I met his mom, sister, and father. They served me fruit and fishcakes and tea and we sat and visited. His sister spoke English well so the three of us chatted while his mom looked around and tried to get me to eat for 3. As we sat neighbours kept poking their head in, many of them (let’s say about 15?) jammed into the doorway to watch us, Limon had a ball the whole time and kept saying “you are very interesting for them!” After we took a few pictures we continued on, as he has 5 uncles and we were promised to visit each house in turn, so away we went!

One house to the next, each family feeding and watering me, they were all very kind and very excited and friendly. A few times they asked questions, mostly they commented on how white I am (I *SWEAR* I have been trying to get a tan!) and how friendly I was.

When we visited with one of his cousins, a very lovely girl with good English skills, said gave me a glass of ice cold 7-Up in a pretty mug. When I commented on the pretty blue and silver design on the mug she said “it is my most favourite mug, so I wanted you to use it when you came to visit.” Such a sweet thing to do, the gesture wasn’t lost on me.

Onto the next house and despite being full from lunch and snacks at the past 3 houses plates of cookies and chips and other dried snacks and more 7-Up came out. The power had gone out while we were in the second house and the girls each took turns fanning me with a bamboo fan. We took pictures as we went along It was her favourite mug, to me “You know Shauna, you look just like a Barbie!” I laughed, a lot, and shook my head as I said thank you, swallowing my comments of argument because it would have been futile to try. “No, really! Just like a Barbie, it’s really true!” She walked arm in arm with me the rest of the way. After the 5^th house the aunty invited me to stay for dinner. I thanked her very much and told her that I already had plans with a friend for dinner, so we went on our way.

Limon and I walked out to the main road stopping here and there on the way to say hello to different people. In the market I tried a new snack called Putchka, little shells filled with lentils and egg and onions and other stuff I can’t even tell you without google (it has been quite the exercise, getting used to going without internet for so long and now I actually get irritated when I'm on it so I have really been avoiding it), it was very good!

Rana arrived on his bike to pick me up and we went to the tea stall hangout to see his friends and have some tea. The man that runs the stall is very fond of the kids that hang out there and they all call him uncle. He is always very nice to me and he makes the best milk tea in the city in this bideshi‘s opinion, I was happy to go there for tea!! “Mama (uncle) has been missing you too, so he will be happy to see you!”

Mama actually did get a big smile (which he quickly hid right away) when we pulled up, it was totally cute. We had a cup of tea and chatted awhile. I asked Rana to tell Mama that I thought he made the best milk tea in the city, and I watched him blush and wave off the compliment. Rana was dressed in the white Punjabi I remembered him wearing for a friend’s wedding, so I asked him about it. “Oh, it’s because tonight is my friend’s wedding party - you will enjoy the party too.” Oh! I’m going to a wedding party!! I looked down at my clothes and laughed once more quietly to myself… I guess there’s no way I really would have dressed any differently had I known in advance, but jeez, I would have at least combed my hair!! : ) Oh well, nobody will care!

We walked from the tea stall to his friend Shohel’s house. The family and a few of his friend’s were gathered in his family house, and it was a sort of bachelor party (though NOTHING like what those words conjure for those of us in the wild wild west!). He was sitting on a table surrounded in food, and each new person that entered took a turn to go up and say hello and feed him something from the trays - I got to do it too!! I felt a little silly offering the grown man food but it was actually really nice. It is offered as a way of showing your support and love for him in his big step of getting married, and I thought it was very nice, and it was quite an intimate moment to share with a stranger really. The family took many pictures and I wished him well with his wedding (which was happening the next day) and married life.

We ate biryani (which usually I don’t eat because it turns my stomach inside out, but homemade food has been safe in most cases (when it doesn’t involve beef) so far) and fried chicken and chatted, it was very nice. The women were all dressed in red and orange saris with gerbera daisies in their hair, they looked so beautiful and I wish I had taken more photos!

For the next couple of hours I visited with his family and then went up to the roof to hang out with the young folk. Everyone here gauges my age around 25, so I fit in well with all the young people. They were decorating the bridal suite with styrofoam wrapped in pink tulle, trying to make it nice for the newly married couple the following night - quite a feat for a group of boys!! We said our goodbyes and I thanked them for welcoming me; Shohel’s eldest sister invited me to come the next day for the wedding as well and of course I was ticked pink. Rana said he would bring me, and with that we headed back to the tea stall.

Around 1030 I was ready to go and Rana dropped me off at my hotel. It was a great day, very fun, but exhausting to be friendly and social with so many strangers so I was very tired. I wanted to take a few minutes to write but I was done-for so I just washed up and crawled into bed… that’s it for another day! Tomorrow… Bengali New Year and a wedding!!

Rajshahi - Take Two!

2011-04-12T12:21:00.001-06:00

Since I last wrote (and I can’t remember when I was last online!) I have visited Dinajpur, Rangpur, Bogra, Bagha, and come back to Rajshahi. The Bengali New Year is on Thursday, so after many repeated requests I have agreed to stay in town, and I have cancelled my plan to visit Dhaka again before it’s closer to my time to leave.

Yesterday I spent half the day with my friend Imran. We went for breakfast (Arif came along as well - they both work in the hotel I stay at), visited Arif’s family village, visited Imran’s father’s restaurant stall (and had some yummy snacks!) and then went to the nearby technical high school where we met his friend Rocky. Rocky is the local Taekwondo champion, he was just in Korea competing for something and at the end of it after he managed to win “something” he also had injured his arm, so he’s in a sling in the Bangladesh heat - yuck!

The three of us (Arif had to go back to work for something) went to the amusement park so they could take a billion pictures with and of me (you’ll be punished with that through Flickr later if you chooose!). From there Rocky left us and I briefly saw my little brother Shahed (he was working and he drove the army truck over so his friend could meet me). Imran and I went from there to his home and I spent the rest of the afternoon with his family. It was such a nice day.

At his family’s house I visited with his mom and sisters and the neighbourhood kids pretty much just taking pictures and smiling and laughing together, as nobody but Imran spoke much English, but I was perfectly happy. The odd neighbour dropped by here and there and introduced themselves, and then around 2 we had lunch… fish, hardboiled eggs in curry, some fried veggie snacks, “salad” (salad here has no lettuce, ever… this one was thinly cut tomatoes in a light dressing it was very nice!), and of course a quadruple serving of rice. I ate way too much because they insisted on refilling my plate and poking me into eating, it was very good. Through pretty much the whole meal Imran’s sister Jasmine fanned me with a big bamboo fan… the electricity was down in the village to since the overhead fan wasn’t working she took it upon herself to become the fan, lol…

I couldn’t get comfortable with it at first and kept telling her it was okay, just to sit and visit with us (only Imran and I were eating together), but she happily sat there and fanned away while she visited and repeatedly dropped more food into my dish.

After lunch we sat outside in the yard in the shade of a giant old mango tree and I played with the kids making videos and taking pictures while we all got a little dozy. At 230 we left to go back to the hotel; Imran had to work and I needed a break from all the people!

I had a nap in my hotel room for a couple of hours (almost unheard of from me to sleep during the day) and woke feeling a little groggy and a bit nauseous. I had planned to meet my friend Waresh in the afternoon so I texted him to tell him I was free if he wanted to get together. We met up at the nearby new market and I found my way to a shop selling cold bottles of pepsi - pepsi, I have decided, is the cure for most things that ail my stomach. I drank the coldest pepsi I’ve had since coming to Bangladesh and then we headed off by Rickshaw to find coconuts… Waresh had the idea that I was probably overheated from being outside in the afternoon sun too much, and the common cure for that here is coconut water - people believe it cools the body when you’ve had too much sun, so off we went!

We went from one market to the next until we came across a vendor, and we hopped down from the rickshaw to each get one. Coconut in hand we jumped back into the rickshaw and headed for the riverside. The sun was starting to set and it is well known in these parts that I’m a sunset fan so Waresh wanted to take me down to the spot by the river where it’s best to watch the sun go down. We got there a little too late (our rickshaw wallah kinda took a few wrong turns) and I watched the sunset from the rickshaw (just as happily, I might add, lol), while Waresh fretted - he is a fretter, he couldn’t help it.

We spent about an hour by the river… we walked across the famous Ganges in the place where the water has gotten so low that you can make it all the way from one side to the other and I took some pictures in the dimming light. When it was becoming more dark than light I told Waresh I wanted to be back on the side with all the people and the lights, so we made our way back. We sat and chatted in nearby chairs that are put out just for people who come down to watch the sun and had some snack made with chickpeas and fresh vegetables (I’ve forgotten the name) and it was quite lovely.

In the dim light of the moon I watched as a farmer moved his water buffalo across the river bed, it was so cool watching their dark shapes shifting through the dark beneath me. About 10 minutes later after they were long out of my sight a man came up and hunkered down in the chair next to me, and he happened to be that same farmer, his name is Jan Mohammed. Jan chatted with us awhile (with Waresh translating all the while) and said to him, “you listen to everything she says and use her wisdom in your life; she has had a chance to live a much different life than we can live, and God has given you the gift of time to learn from her, so do not waste it.”

I didn’t really say much to that, other than to smile and nod my head in Jan’s direction. God gives us all time to learn from others around us if we take the opportunity to do so. Though I didn’t say as much to them at the time, every day in Bangladesh I have learned something new about myself or the world that I didn’t know before through interacting with a new stranger or a friend, and ever night I go to bed grateful for every second I’ve had in the day that has passed.

After the river we came back to the area around the hotel for a cup of tea before I bid Waresh goodnight and headed for my room. By that time it was about 1030 and I was long since ready for sleep after a great day. I really love visiting Rajshahi!

Bustling, Busy Bogra

2011-04-10T20:50:00.000-06:00

I fell asleep about ten minutes after the bus left. Despite the volume of all the honking and the lurching and bumping that happens along the way while you ride the Bangladesh bus system I have no trouble sleeping during the ride; I’m quite sure now that I can sleep near anywhere! So as I was saying, I fell asleep on the bus. I wasn’t worried about time because it was at least a two hour ride and I didn’t think I would sleep too deeply. The next thing I knew the bus supervisor was tapping me saying “Madam, please come” - we had arrived in Bogra: SHORTEST bus ride EVER!!!

The bus supervisor lugged my bag up the aisle and helped me hop off as I was still rubbing the sleep outta my eyes I was still a bit groggy from my nap as I waved goodbye. I found a covered tea stall to hide in (my new preference when arriving in a new spot!) and collect myself. I had my tea and decided on a hotel in the guidebook, and then asked the young man in the tea stall to help me get a rickshaw to the Akboria Hotel, which is apparently quite well known in Bogra, and I had no trouble.

It still amazes me how friendly, helpful, and almost protective people are here when I ask for help. When the kid (he was like, I don't know, 17?) hunted me down a rickshaw and I asked him how much he told me (10 Taka, it's almost always 10 Taka) and then he had a fairly loud conversation with the driver that included finger wagging and a hand on the hip about not ripping me off and overcharging me. My Bangla is getting better!!

Bogra was bustling and full of life in the centre of town, which centred around a railway line. The area of the Akboria hotel was down a narrow hallway between buildings that I wouldn’t have found without the help of some locals and a nearby security guard. I was doubtful that I was going to stay there for the first couple of moments, but once I saw the rooms I decided it was a fine place to stay and I booked myself a room.

I didn’t know anyone in Bogra so I just set down my bags, grabbed my book and wandered around.
I walked up the street from my hotel thinking I might come across something to see and found a small river.

From there I hopped a rickshaw to the Nawab Bari, or palace. Originally the building was an indigo plantation warehouse, but a nawab family bought it as their country home. It is surrounded by a collection of painted animals and people and a small children’s amusement park. I wandered inside the building and looked at their small dusty collection and their mannequins and room settings, and even took a few photos when the young guides suggested it.

If I understand it correctly, one of the most influential nawabs that lived in this spot was Muhammed Ali Bogra. He had a really colourful history with many interesting jobs (like High Commissioner to Canada, (isn't that a lofty title?!) Ambassador of Pakistan and Ambassador to Burma, Foreign Minister, and the 3^rd Prime Minister of what was then Pakistan), and I read a lot about him at the museum.

After that I wandered the streets awhile with no particular plan or places to visit. I walked around for a couple of hours before the sun started to set and I headed back to my hotel and dinner at the attached and very famous restaurant. They were very good to me there, very helpful even though the restaurant was incredibly busy.

Overall it was a pretty uneventful day but I enjoyed it nonetheless. I wrote awhile, read my book in my room, watched Prince of Persia and then went to sleep. In the morning I planned to visit a nearby citadel and old temple/mosque site before going on to Rajshahi again, but that was it for one day!

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Morning came and I lazed about in my hotel room with my stomach doing funny things, grumbling and gurgling. I was feeling quite tired and even a little listless, and not really ready to get on another bus. I waffled back and forth in my dirty room about whether to go out and try to find the citadel. It was to involve another LOCAL BUS ride, god in heaven help me, and I just didn't know if I could do it this particular morning.

I went and had breakfast, the restaurant staff finding me special more "private" seating on the top floor away from all the other gawking diners. I had something to eat (my normal porata and dim and daal) and they enjoyed a private gawking session, all standing around watching me eat while I alternately giggled and shook my head.

I grabbed a cup of tea on my way out and found some laundry soap, I needed to wash clothes at my next stop. Handwashing is easy enough, and I have so few clothes with me that it's necessary. The heat makes it super easy to get everything washed and dried from bedtime to early morning - much more than I can say for Korea!!

Around 9 I finally decided that I couldn't stay in the disgusting room and I didn't want to catch the local bus to the citadel, so I wandered down to the front desk to ask them the best way to get to Mahastangar. Lo and behold they told me it was a short 20Tk CNG ride, yippee!!

I got myself a rickshaw to the CNG stand, found myself a seat in a nearly-ready-to-go CNG (they only leave where there are 6 willing passengers headed in the same direction) and we were off. I met a dentist along the way, one of the other passengers, and 20 minutes later after chatting most of the way he took it upon himself to get me to Mahastan Citadel and the temple next door, which involved catching another rickshaw once the CNG stopped at the local stand.

The museum was closed for the day, but I wandered the old temple site with the nice dentist and took some pictures of the beautiful views of the valley below. Since the museum was closed (I actually get really bored by museums, so I was a little grateful!) I said goodbye to the dentist (he had to get to work) and walked the perimeter of the citadel on my own.

I wandered here and wandered there, and I marvelled at the way the locals had used the lands to its full agricultural potential despite the fact that it was an important site - everything in Bangladesh is old; I guess you can't really just stop using the space because there's something ancient and cool-looking on it!

As I wandered through the fields a few young people wandered behind me, shadowing my steps, and I walked into the centre of the walls rather than along the edge with the other tourists. There was a group of women and a few children who were farming part of the land, and when I smiled a hello at them one of the women sat down and patted the ground beside her, inviting me to take a seat. Of course not wanting to be impolite I padded over and plunked myself down beside her while they all gathered round and tried to decide what to make of me.

The friendly woman examined my clothing and gestured between us at the similiarities first and then the many differences. She literally scratched her head a few times while she pondered, and the she took off my scarf and rearranged it before putting it back on me again - I'm not really sure what that part was about! :)

After about 5 minutes (and more people starting to appear I'd had enough and wanted to resume my peaceful walk. Interspersed with giggling school girls, school boys with puffed out chests, sunglasses, and spiky hair, and the odd canoodling couple, I had the peace and quiet I'd been looking for for most of the rest of my walk.

The sun was out by this time, quite hot, and I was thinking I should probably be back to check out of my hotel room around noon. I know there was another old site about 10 minutes up the road by rickshaw but I was feeling a little dragged out, and really just wanted to go somewhere with a cleaner hotel with less noise that was more relaxing, so I headed back to the CNG stand.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that my Bangla managed to get me right back where I started with the dentist, and then before I knew it I was back at my hotel to pick up my bags, bid farewell to the disgusting hotel, and find my way to the bus stand. Next stop: Rajshahi to see my friends... a break from all the sightseeing.

I'm thinking I need a break!

Rangpur - Where I'm not Sure Why I Went!

2011-04-08T11:31:00.001-06:00

So I've skipped the 7th which I also spent in Dinajpur, but hopefully I'll get back to it; I started, I just never finished!

So after the 2 days kickin' around in Dinajpur I got myself on a bus to a little town called Rangpur. I don't remember why I had planned to go there, there weren't really any major sites there, but I was going!

Uttam came in the morning and helped me find the right one (which was very helpful). He sat and fussed with my seat and my bag until the bus was pulling out, and he hopped down and sent me on his way. Of course before I left he called ahead to his best friend Bashir in Rangpur so that I would have someone to take care of me there. I thanked him for all of his help and waved goodbye.

I hopped down from the bus while it slowed (but didn’t stop) and waved goodbye (I always wave goodbye to my buses, they are always greatly entertained by my just being on their bus!) and landed in the middle of a schwack of CNGs and rickshaws, drivers all offering (at the SAME time) to get me where I was going.

Trouble was? I had no idea where I was going!

I hadn’t planned to actually call, but I decided to step back out of the throng and texted Uttam’s friend Bashir to see if he wanted to meet somewhere and snuck into the back of a tea stall. When I plunked my bag down in an empty chair I scared the fifty or so flies to leave their spots on the table I took over and I ordered myself a cup of tea so I could look at my guidebook again. Bashir was still an hour away by bus (coming from his village) so I had to fend for myself until then. He suggested staying where I was until he arrived, but I told him I’d make my way to a hotel and meet him when he arrived.

I chose myself a hotel, finished my tea and went back into the heat of the day and the piles of CNGs and rickshaws. Once pointed in the right direction, taking the scale of the map at face value, I decided to try walking to find the hotel, so I set out on my way leaving the din and clamour of the CNG stand behind.

The spot I landed was right across from the central bus stand in Rangpur, so there was much traffic and commotion. The farther I walked the quieter it got. The buildings I passed were all industry-based kinds of shops and I saw very few houses in the street-side. Metal workers, chicken feed suppliers, mechanics, and a few buildings that COULD have been hotels but had signs only in Bangla so I really had no idea.

I kept checking my map, but I didn’t pass one thing on the way that suggested where I was going was right (or wrong, for that matter) way. I passed a technical college of some sort (closed for the weekend) and a mosque. Then I saw the largest muslim graveyard I’ve ever seen, and I took pause to consider my map again.

I figure by that point I’d walked about 3kms, and in the heat of the Bangadeshi sun carrying my backpack I was beginning to feel lazy. I stepped off the road and pulled out my book again to try and orient myself to the area, but I truly had no idea where I was. One of the guys from a feed shop across the street came over to chat, and he ushered me into his shop to chat awhile before pulling a rickshaw over to take me to the hotel I wanted to check out. About 10 minutes later with the wind blowing and the rickshaw careening around corners on tiny streets I pulled up to the area of the Golden Tower hotel. I paid the man and hopped down with my bag, taking a deep breath.

Looking around (and up up up) at all the signs I didn’t see any signs for the hotel so I walked a bit before I started asking people along the way about which way I should head. Finally when I thought I had walked too far and must have missed it (I pretty much had the map memorized by this time) I turned around to see and English sign tucked into a corner of a building that wasn’t visible from the other direction - angels on my shoulder again!

The lift was out because of load shedding (and truthfully, I *NEVER* take elevators here because if the power chose that moment to go out I’d be STUCK in there!) so though the guard tried to get the doors for me I bowed out and walked up the stairs.

I climbed up the 2 floors to the office and asked to see a room. The hotel was under construction so the first room he showed me I declined because they were surrounded by too many workers. I had it in my mind that it wouldn’t be particularly safe for me to stay somewhere like that, and though I was about to go try another hotel they showed me a room on the 5^th floor that was passable. I had to take a double because there were no singles but I didn’t really care, it was only one night.

Truly, it was actually the dirtiest room I’ve been in since coming to Bangladesh. One night, that is all.
Bashir called as I finished washing my face and we arranged to meet after 15 minutes. He came with his friend Mahmud and we went off to see the sights. Well, first we went to breakfast! Tiny little diner in the style that I’ve become quite accustomed to eating in, it didn’t earn any praise in my book but it did manage to fill my belly. They boys didn’t eat, they just had mango juice while I munched on naan and some incredibly watery and tasteless daal before going on our way.

We visited a few places in fairly quick succession in Rangpur. First we went to a tiny local Kalli temple that was right around the corner from my hotel. As we were looking around a group of women came with a baby for a 100-day blessing. Because Bashiris Muslim he really couldn’t tell me much about the ceremony so we just watched for a bit and continued on our way. There was a group of musicians playing music as well, so I took some video and a few pictures before we left.

From there Bashirand I hopped in a rickshaw and Mahmud went to work. Bashirwas staying in Rangpur but his family’s village was about 2 hours north by bus, he had just arrived in town when he called me. Bashir has an English master’s degree and he was about 75% fluent so he was easy to talk with. He was in the process of applying for a job teaching in the college close to his home village and I have my fingers crossed for him.

Bashir has a complicated family life compared to most people I’ve met in Bangladesh. When he was younger his mother left the family for another man, so she was pretty much banished and has no rights to see the children or visit the family home. His father remarried and his step-mom raised him and his 2 siblings as her own and he loves her very much. The family has some farmland but no time to farm, so they rent it out to someone else that grows paddy, corn, and a few other things. They are paid in produce, so they have enough food to eat and they sell much of it to earn income.

Bashir’s father had a stroke some years ago and can no longer work, so he earns for the family and takes care of everyone. He is still in contact with his mother. She still lives in the same village, just on the other side, I can’t even imagine the awkwardness of it all! He said that he still checks up on her, and that if she ever needs help he will help her, though he cannot allow her to come to the family’s home, and they will never have a “close” relationship the way he wishes they could. Bashid is hoping to get a job teaching because it is a very respected profession, and it will allow him to live with his family and support them very well on his income.

There is more to his story, but writing nearly a week later I have lost much of the detail. Suffice it to say that his story really touched my heart, and it was obvious from talking to him that he has a gigantic capacity for love and trust, and he is an incredibly honourable person, I was glad to have met him.

So on our journey we went first to the local Rajbari, the Tajhat Palace, and toured around. The grounds were quite beautiful… stepping onto palace grounds is much like finding a little piece of paradise. The rajbari was painted white in the front, and in the back it was done in that salmon colour that people are so fond of with white trim. It was built at the turn of the 20^th century by a Hindu zaminder from the Punjab. At one point in the 80s it was used as a courthouse but now it houses the Rangpur Museum. The collection was typical of what I’ve seen by now and we enjoyed checking out all the small displays while we chatted.

Bashir and I walked around the grounds around a pond while weaving between cuddly couples and I found my way into the back garden through a gate that was left open by the gardeners. I enjoyed being outside in the peace and quiet far from cars and traffic, it was very nice.

From there we went to the nearby Kalli Mandir (temple) and I took a few pictures. The caretaker wasn’t there so we couldn’t go in, but we could see through the gates so it was still cool. There were some beautiful trees in the yard (plumeria and red hibiscus). Kalli’s figure is scary, always made of balck stone with big eyes and a red tongue poking out of her mouth. I will have to research more about Hinduism when I get home (man, I used to know so much about it and now it’s all I can do to remember the few main gods!).

After that we went to Carmichael College, Bashir's alma mater, named for a former governor of Bengal sometime in the early 1900s. I took a few pictures but mostly it was an old campus that seemed mostly to be empty of students. The local residence hall was closed for a month because there had been some fighting between two of the campus political groups (they get quite rough sometimes in Bangladesh), and there was no guarantee it was going to open again. In the meantime kids are living at a student hostel in town.

From there we went to the Rangpur Zoo. The grounds were alright, crowded with people because it was some kind of family holiday. For the first time I heard a lion roar, and it was pretty cool. I don’t know why be he was one upset kitty and he was roaring up a storm - the first roar I heard actually made the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up!! GO evolution… wow! We found our way over to them, there were 2 pairs, and I watched them awhile and took a video so you could hear them too - upload coming later!

Zoos in Bangladesh can only be visited if you can handle leaving your ideas about animal rights at the entrance gates, as they are NOT great at taking care of their charges here. My friend Morshed in Dhaka told me that they have run many stories on the condition of local zoos, and the way it contrasts with the amount of money they are given to run them and care for the animals. According to the paper they have shown that there is a great deal of funding for the local zoos, but the majority of the money goes into the pockets of the officials, and little of it goes to food and care.

So the lions, in their tiny care, were cool to see (apart from the part where they ahd pretty much NO natural habitat, and NO room to walk around) I also saw a Bengal Tiger for the first time in Bangladesh - it was sleeping, which is probably what I would be doing if I was locked in a small metal cage. My heart really went out for the animals and I found I couldn’t really stay to even enjoy the gardens because of the state of the zoo itself.

After we left we walked by the local Town Hall that was blaring music - they were hosting some kind of dance show in the evening. We decided to go check it out since it was to be starting shortly, I like watching dance shows, it would be worth the wait! As we found our way to seats I had the thought that there was NO way it was going to start any time soon, as ¾s of the seats were still empty. 90 MINUTES LATER (and not one bitchy comment from me!) things were underway. It wasn’t spectacular compared to what we had expected from the entrance price, but it was a nice way to spend a couple of hours. We left before they finished when things got a little slow; I went back to my dirty hotel and Bashid went back to his hostel. On the way we stopped for sweet and tea because I wasn’t really in the mood for dinner. The nearby restaurant where we’d eaten earlier didn’t strike my fancy, and I wasn’t really hungry anyway.

I found my way back to my hotel in rickshaw, noting that I am not really afraid of Bangladesh in the dark anymore. I still wouldn't be outside alone "late", like around midnight, but for the most part tourists are still so new here that people are far more afraid of or weirded out by me than I am by them, so the baddies seem to stay away from me thus far.

Back in my dingy room I snagged down my mosquito net (nothing worse than waking up finding that you were the target of an all-night buffet for critters that carry dengue and malaria and encephalitis!! I cringed noticing the grease smears on the wall where you'd normally lay your head and balled my sweater up into a pillow at the opposite end of the bed. Oddly, and happily, the sheets were all clean and actually smelled like the laundry, so I took tucked in and watched a bad Hollywood movie from beneath my netting, "The Project" - Oh Meg, why did you do it..., and then went to bed.

It's nice that once the lights are out you can no longer see the grime and grossness on the walls!!

In the morning Bashir called as I was getting ready to go and catch my bus, and he said he would come to meet me since he was on his way to a friend’s place nearby. We went together to the bus stand and he helped me find a bus to Bogra, AND helped me find a ticket that wasn’t marked up double with foreigner-tax. I actually waited in one of the bus stands while he did that, as too many ticket guys were doubling their fare as soon as they saw me. About 5 minutes later he came to collect me and I bought my ticket. We ran over to a snack shop and I got a couple bags of chips, a mango juice and a cold cold 7-up for the ride since I hadn’t eaten breakfast.

Bashir helped me onto the bus to find my seat and waited with me the couple minutes until the bus was pulling out of the station and continued on his way to meet his friend while I moved on to Bogra.

Bogra, Bogra, Bogra... now what was I going to see in Bogra again??.... Oh well, find out when I get there I guess! :)

Day 1in Dinajpur: Katanagar Temple, Nayabad Mosque, Uttam’s Family

2011-04-06T11:29:00.001-06:00

So late at night I took the train up to Dinajpur. It was meant to leave at 8pm, but in true Bangladesh-style the train was a mere 4 ½ hours late. I went home after buying a ticket rather than waiting in the sweaty hot station in the dark and returned by CNG about 2 hours later. I changed out of my normal sarong into capris - I figure when travelling around at night it’s better if I put people off as much as possible, lol.

The wait at the station (yes, I still waited… they said the train would (late already) arrive at 11pm, but it was 90 minutes after that) was the usual sideshow. Me sitting around doing nothing, a schwack of people sitting around watching me doing nothing.

The good thing about always being on everyone’s radar is that there’s always someone to tell me when it’s time to go. So, the train arrived and I found my way to my car. I paid for a sleeper class ticket. This particular train was not the least bit fancy; 2 people to a car, one bunk up and one down - me and a businessman.

The train staff came in and brought blankets (well, a “pillow” and a sheet, which was fine for me) and about 15 minutes after that I was tucked in on the top bunk and trying for sleep. The train was Unbelievably noisy, and beyond the normal clackity-clack I am quite certain we stopped ever 12 minutes, but I did manage to sleep off and on over the following six hours. When the sun started to rise I was awake, still tucked under my sheet and trying to see out the window… the window didn’t reach up there where I was, so I had to kind of lay on my side, face squished against the mattress sideways, and even then I could only really see out the top 3 or 4 inches of the window.
What I saw was beautiful, incredible shades of green covered in thick morning dew, or maybe a heavy rainfall overnight. I changed into a sarong again and quietly slipped out of the sleeper car so I could have the windows… I was SO glad that I did, it was breathtakingly beautiful…

Misty fog rolled in the distance, the sun barely over the horizon, enough light for the greens and yellows to sparkle under their dewy cover. I sat in the open doorway, feet on the step and sometimes dangling, and I loved it. Wind rushing by blowing in my face, incredible views flying out the door, it was wonderful! I took a few videos, and smiled to myself as I kicked my feet like a kid whose feet couldn’t reach the ground when seated (handy, I didn’t lose my flip-flops!), I was happy right to the tips of my toes and no longer cared about the late night, the jerky ride, the lumpy bed, or the late train - none of it mattered it was all worth it for that very moment.

My friend Uttam texted me a few times while I was on the way, and rather than arriving at 5:05am like the original schedule we pulled in around 9:30am, haha, just a weeee bit late but he was there waiting for me. We grabbed a rickshaw to a hotel up the road, one his uncle owns, and I took some time to shower and change my clothes so I could go about the rest of my day.
After about half hour I went out and the manager told me that Uttam had needed to run out for a bit, but that he would be back in an hour and that I should wait in my room for him. Now if you know me, the fact alone that this man (smiling and friendly though he was) basically stood in front of the exit to the hotel and told me to go to my room and that I couldn‘t come out until given permission was enough to make me push back… if it’s dangerous outside, Of Course I’m going to listen, but if it’s because “no woman can exist without a man at her side,” forget it, I won’t do it, and that‘s what was going on here.

I tried polite at first, “thank you, but we both have cell phones, I will call him and let him know where I am but I am going to go walk around until he arrives“, then I tried straightforward, “I am an adult, and I’ve paid for my room - you can‘t make me stay in the hotel, I am going outside and I don‘t need your permission.”

No matter what I said he just kept insisting that I wait for the next hour until Uttam came back. I asked several times “why” I couldn’t leave (I had started wondering if perhaps Dinajpur was dangerous?), but we had major communication problems that all just came back to him saying “I am your elder and you must do as I say.”

So, I did the only logical thing I could think of, short of crossing the line and shoving past him - I called Shahed, my “little Bengali brother” in the army, and explained the problem and asked him to please find out WHY I couldn’t leave the hotel alone. 3 minutes later I had the phone back and was waved politely on my way… Shahed said “I explain to him, ‘I am a soldier in the army, and she is my sister, so you must listen to me. She is always alone travelling, and this is not the first country she has been to, she is not like our Bengali women so you must let her alone - if there is trouble I will come for her.’ So, any problem, you must be calling me - okay? Now you can go.” I laughed quietly and shook my head, realizing that I was still “given permission” by a man to be out on my own, but at the very least it got me out of the house!!

I thanked my little brother very much and ducked out the door to walk up the road. Market stalls, tea stands, phone shops and appliance centers, it was the regular smattering of shops, the regular smattering of people, nothing or no one particularly bothersome. I had a cup of tea at one of the little spots, and then Uttam called to say he was on his way.

We met back at the hotel and walked over to his family’s home. I was invited inside and we had tea and cookies while I played with his 6-year old nephew Ammon… he brought me his schoolbooks where he had been practicing English vocabulary words in his very neat and cute curly-cue writing; Next came a workbook of nursery rhymes like “Hickory Dickory Dock” and songs like “Twinkle, Twinkle” so I sang a few of them for him and he was all lit up, making me twice as happy.

We had tea and chatted in the bedroom for awhile. I met both of his parents and his sister-in-law. Several neighbours came in while I was there to smile and stare silently from the doorway, sometimes talking quietly together behind their hands and with huge smiles. Then I met Sister Tracy, a Catholic nun who happened to be bustling by when Uttam grabbed her and said “we have a girl from Canada visiting in our home, come and talk to her!” She invited me to the convent the next day, and I told her I was looking forward to it - I hardly turn down an invitation these days! We took a few photos in the family’s home, and then it was time to go so we said goodbye.

From there we caught a rickshaw on the main road to get to the bus stand, he had decided that we would go out of town a ways and visit Kantanagar Temple. It was beautiful, and we ran into some of his family there so we visited awhile (they visited, I wandered around taking many pictures and having many photos taken).
After we finished visiting the temple we walked the 2kms to nearby Nayabad Mosque, and I was really glad that we did. The walk along through the village was nice (Uttam pointed out every 18 seconds “they are really enjoying to see you, everybody is smiling”) and requested several times that I take photos of people along the way.

At the mosque there were a few men there for prayer, and Uttam quickly made friends with them and they walked around with us - it was very nice. The mosque was cool, old built 250 years ago at the same time as Kantanagar temple (it was actually built for the men who were working to build the Hindu temple, so it was completed long before the temple, which took more than 20 years to finish). I didn’t go inside (I have only been inside one mosque since I arrived) but I enjoyed it very much from the outside and took tons of pictures, including a few with them.

After visiting the mosque we walked back up to the temple and had something to eat. Lovely leaves for plates, we found a small patch of shade and had some rice and vegetables. You know, I didn’t know you could GET food at a temple, but there you go!

From the temple we took an auto rickshaw back to town, arriving back around 6. We met again at 7 and walked around town, Uttam mostly showing off his new foreigner to his neighbourhood friends until she got cranky from lack of food about an hour and a half later (I thought we were going for dinner at 7, he didn’t tell me about his show-and-tell plan). At 830 I told him I was going to eat; he could join me or he could not, but I was going - enough.

Went to a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant at the New Hotel (which is very very old) and had fried flatbread (porata) and thick lentils (boot dal) and the BEST cup of tea I’ve had in Bangladesh… I asked for my regular ginger tea (adda cha) which they don’t usually serve, and rather than telling me no, they made me a cup in the kitchen - YAY!!

So of course after food and drink I was in much better spirits and I politely sat and visited with Uttam and his friends (I.e. got stared at and sat politely while they spoke in Bangla and smiled at me). I was back in the hotel in my lilac room around 10 and ready for sleep - what a great day!

And We'll All Float On, Ok...

2011-04-04T08:34:00.000-06:00

My last few days have been a little discontented and disoriented, like I've realized that I no longer have any idea which way is up. A couple of days where I am forced to remain in place give a girl a lot of time to think. Is this a good thing? I don't know.

I am travelling in a country where men and women have very different relationships and social rules compared to where I come from, and that is stressing me out. People (i.e. men) are friendly, but they are often friendly with follow-up - please find someone to pay for surgery for my sick niece; please take my mother to Canada with you, she can cook and clean for you and you can just pay her a dollar a day and give her room and board; please let me come with you to Canada and live there; here, please accept these 15 text messages of love poems because I love you and will die without you even though we only talked once a week ago my heart is changed forever... the last couple of days it's been wearing on me a bit, so I'm hiding away from it all until tomorrow when I get back on the road, where I will endeavor to bring my patience.

The other day I opened my alternate email account, which I haven't checked in over a month (I never use it anymore. I don't use it because pretty much the only messages I get are from the university, newsletters and on campus student stuff (which I am not part of) and I'm not in classes right now so I didn't think there would be any big news coming through those channels that I wouldn't get in the general group mails that go to my main account.

Well, that assumption was made in error. My inbox had a note from the university that was sent a few weeks ago telling me that my presence is requested at a practicum back home on campus for 2 months beginning the first week of July in my hometown.

The tone of the email/letter is friendly and informational, but it seemed to me that the "requested" part was actually more of a "required, or we will terminate your position in the program" kind of request. I sent an email to find out exactly what it was they were asking me, and I await the answer. I am meant to be traveling through the end of July, but I will not lose my position in the program over my gallivanting.

I am a little miffed about another "thing" being tossed into the air in front of me, but overall I'm happy I read the email before it was too late to do anything about it. At least now I have time to find out the real deal and make plans accordingly, if anything indeed does need to be done.

I have intentionally not been thinking about home; not been thinking about plans, about returning home after a year and a half, about not having a job, about not having any idea what I'll do with myself when I get there, about school, about any of it - purposeful avoidance in order to maintain some kind of equilibrium in my own mind.

I am feeling like a feather blown about in the wind, spiralling and floating and not sure where I'll land when the breezes stop.

I don't enjoy it, this being unsure part, so I'm going back to ignoring it and not thinking about it for now... I need some time to just float on...

Float On (Modest Mouse)

The Nicest Thing

2011-02-07T05:02:00.001-07:00

http://www.jango.com/stations/113298293/tunein?proxy_id=43267863&song_id=128590

"The Nicest Thing"

All I know is that you're so nice
You're the nicest thing I've seen
I wish that we could give it a go
See if we could be something

I wish I was your favourite girl
I wish you thought I was the reason you are in the world
I wish my smile was your favourite kind of smile
I wish the way that I dressed was your favourite kind of style

I wish you couldn't figure me out
But you always wanna know what I was about
I wish you'd hold my hand
When I was upset
I wish you'd never forget
The look on my face when we first met

I wish you had a favourite beauty spot
That you loved secretly
'Cause it was on a hidden bit
That nobody else could see
Basically, I wish that you loved me
I wish that you needed me
I wish that you knew when I said two sugars,
Actually I meant three

I wish that without me your heart would break
I wish that without me you'd be spending the rest of your nights awake
I wish that without me you couldn't eat
I wish I was the last thing on your mind before you went to sleep

Look, all I know is that you're the nicest thing I've ever seen
And I wish that we could see if we could be something
Yeah I wish that we could see if we could be something

God help me, but you're right - It's time

2011-02-04T06:03:00.000-07:00

It has taken me more than 4 years to post this. I have read it over and over again in my *drafts*, every time with tears and an ache that never seems to dull. I can say goodbye, sure, but it's never really going to be goodbye when you're not here to say it to.

My heart still aches with the regrets of things unsaid, with the dangling possibilities that were on the line in our last giddy time together before your return to the shitty desert, in those late-night phone calls with your voice in my ear as I nestled under the covers, my heart exploding in happiness that I got to talk to you again when you had so little time on the phone stuck in that stupid far off place...

I know that I'm supposed to just say one final goodbye and move on, but I still don't know how to do that. I hate that I'll never know, I hate that I didn't get to choose... more to the point I hate that the choice I regret now is the last one I really got to make with you, when just maybe it could have been so very different if you had ever come home again. And you know what the worst part for me is?

a little piece of me hates you for dying

I collapsed into myself when you died. And I tried, I really tried to make it better, to let you go, to move on, but I did a pretty shit job of it to be honest. I'm not the only one that had to pay for that shit job, either. Four and a half years later thinking of you still knots my stomach and reduces me to tears and I don't know how to move on, how to let you go, how to let it be, or how to forgive myself for what I've made of it, and what I didn't make of it.

If it weren't my heart that was broken I'd be full of good advice for what to do to help with the grief, to accept the loss, to let myself truly move on in my heart. If I weren't as stubborn and thick-headed and stuck I'd listen to someone else's advice, I'd have figured it out by now.

This weekend I'm going to spend some time in one of those places that touches my heart with peace and love, and I'm bringing you there with me. I don't know what I think will happen there, but I know that it's time to try, try something, try anything, to make this different in my heart. I'll never forget you, I'll never really get to say goodbye, and I'll never know what could have been, but somehow I need to let you go love, somewhere within me I know you're telling me it's time, it's time, it's time....

So in posting this finally I guess this is me talkin' to God, talkin' to you... praying, asking, hoping, for the strength of heart to be honest and open with myself, enough to be able to forgive myself for being too scared, for not holding on with both hands, for not saying the things I wanted to say, and the strength of spirit to love you and keep you in that little place in my heart while once and for all letting you go and letting my heart move on.

___________The following was written in the Fall of 2006___________

Slain soldier devoted to duty: parents
Last Updated: Thursday, August 3, 2006
| 5:33 PM AT CBC News
"Angela and Tom Reid got the devastating news at 4 a.m., when military officials knocked on their door. Surrounded by family and friends, they read a brief statement to reporters Thursday afternoon, describing their son as a devoted soldier who lived life to the fullest. Angela Reid expected her son home in a few weeks. She spoke to him on Wednesday and said her final words were "continue to be on high alert." She said he supported Canada's decision to stay in Afghanistan and loved the LAV III, the vehicle he was riding in when he died."

"Premier Rodney MacDonald offered his condolences to the Reid family, saying Nova Scotians were proud of the slain soldier's service to Canada. To honour Reid, the premier has ordered flags at Province House and the provincial buildings in Truro to be lowered to half-mast."
"Reid, serving with the 1st Battalion of the Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry in Edmonton, was airlifted to the medical base at Kandahar airfield, where he was pronounced dead. Reid died on one of the deadliest days for Canada so far in the military campaign in Afghanistan. "__________________

"What's goin' on!!?"... I hear those words echo in my thoughts when I think of you. It has taken me so long to even believe your death to be real, yet here I sit, trying to say good-bye... it's such a good picture of you they posted, but I would give anything to have seen your laughing, smiling face home again, instead of the picture I see plastered everywhere... Loretta called me, you know? I was away camping when you died, having a great time. I had just gotten back into the house and had to run for the phone, happy, rejuvinated, suntanned and exhausted after the week away.

I knew it wasn't good news by the sound of her voice, but I had no idea how bad. "Chris was killed," she said. You know in books how people say the world stops? Well, in that moment my world stopped. Chris? Killed? What Chris? MY Chris?! Nononono, that can't be... I collapsed to the floor and I don't remember the next few minutes. I was so lucky not to be alone, but I don't remember. Dead. Not coming home from Afghanistan. Gone. Oh god...

So many thoughts flashed through my head... things I'd said, things you'd said, things I wished I had said, things I ached to say to you just one more time, regrets, my eyes filled with my regrets and they spilled over until I was too exhausted to cry any more...

I can certainly say that I had never before, and have never since, met another man anything like you Chris. You made me laugh my head off; you took me 4x4ing until my teeth rattled in my head (your poor trucks!); you're the reason I listen to Johnny Cash and Sublime; you made the best winter camping fires ever; you never left a friend hanging; you showed me how to fix my own car; you stopped to help people you didn't even know; you spoke the truth, even if it hurt; you warmed my frozen toes after sledding; you were always true to who you were; you taught me how to shoot, and you taught me how not to take life (or myself!) too seriously. You helped me keep things more squared away, and I helped you keep things, well, not-quite-so squared away!! Now that you're gone, you have helped me remember not to hold things that should be said until the infinite "tomorrow", lest we not get the chance to say them. Our cross-country drive to see your family in Truro will always be something I tell stories about, I'm glad we had the chance to do it, even cramped in my little car!!

I'm happy that we kept in touch all this time, and that you came down to see me while you were home on leave... I'll always remember your surprise phone calls, and the way you were always looking to find the best part of the situations you were in. Sorry about the melted chocolate, I should've sent you more chips!! I know that you wanted to be on this tour, and that you were really driven to be at the front of things, and not hanging back in the shadows. Like I always told you, I was always really proud of you for the way you handled everything the Army threw at you; you never lost yourself.

In a lot of ways I'm sorry that we weren't better matched for the more "long-term" stuff, but I'm really glad that we knew it, and that we ended things without wanting to kill one another. The mini-van and the rest of the schmozzle really weren't going to be our style, yah? I learned so much from you, about life, about love, and about myself. I am greatful for the time that we had together... You were a crazy, fun-loving sweetheart, and my heart aches that you won't be part of the world any more, part of my world.

For every way that you touched my life, you will always be remembered. I miss you.

Choices

2010-09-04T19:28:00.001-06:00

In each of us lie good and bad, light and dark, art and pain, choice and regret, cruelty and sacrifice. We're each of us our own chiaroscuro, our own bit of illusion fighting to emerge into something solid, real. We've got to forgive ourselves that. I must remember to forgive myself. Because there's an awful lot of gray to work with. No one can live in the light the whole time.

Libba Bray (A Great and Terrible Beauty)

Moving

2010-03-15T23:41:00.000-06:00

Since moving to Korea I haven't been writing here as often as I once did, but I don't plan to stop altogether. The other blog (Shauna in Korea) has been a really awesome way to stay in touch with friends and family and tell people about life in Korea, but sometimes I just want to talk about life, and not Korea, and I don't want to share it all with those same friends and family that are dialed into the other blog - so I'll still write here when the mood strikes. If, however, you'd like to see what life is like in Korea for someone from Canada, you're welcome to pop over, as I do write more often and I tend to post lots of pictures.

I don't regret the choices that brought me to this point, but sometimes I really do feel like I have no idea what I'm doing in my life, just kinda steering haphazardly all over the road and taking every opportunity to launch all 4 wheels off the ground whenever possible... whhhheeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!! Since my relationship ended and I made the big move life is different. I am different too in some ways. My head is quieter. I am introspective but still distracted. Lonely in a different way, but things are all simply exciting as well. Looking for challenges and trying to keep active in life, instead of just in my head, it's an interesting journey so far. Change sucks. Change is good. Change is inevitable. Life is change, non? Or was that something about a box of chocolates...

A Child of the World

2010-03-12T05:05:00.001-07:00

I know that not every country in the world runs like ours at home in Canada. I know that different groups, children included, do not have the same rights and privileges that we have in Canada, but as a child of the world myself, this story (from February 1st) is really sad to me...

New Dehli, India is the host of the Commonwealth Games this year. For people who might not really know anything about the Commonwealth Games, (somehow I didn't), they started as the "British Empire Games" and have since become the "Commonwealth Games," with just over 53 countries (broken into more than 70 teams) competing in a range of sports. There are 10 core sports (like athletics, boxing, rugby sevens and hockey) and up to 7 optional sports chosen by the host nation (sports like archery, basketball, diving and triathalon). Our Aussie friends (as well as England, who gets to compete separately from the rest of the UK) do much better in these games than most olympics: Australia was the highest scoring country for 10 years of the games, England for 7, and Canada only for 1.

While I've never watched the fanfare myself, after reading about it the games sound like they'd be fun to go to. I'd have to say that if I were a competing athlete I'd be hoping the host country that year was somewhere exotic, i.e. not Hamilton, Ontario (sorry Hamilton), so I'd probably be excited to get a chance to go to India as part of a sporting event. The IOC website says that India is in a bid for the 2016 summer olympics, and the thought is that if this year's Commonwealth games go off well that maybe it will sway the bid in their favour for the 2016 games, so I'd imagine that India is under a lot of pressure to make sure that everything goes off without much being amiss (that whole 'being in the spotlight' thing. I'm having visions of days long ago when the poor were shuttled from the streets and into jails during large celebratory events to preserve a mightier cleaner vision of the city... or my days not-so-long-ago in Slave Lake, AB when the town would pay for the local vagrants to be bussed to a town a few hours north during the one-week summer festival so tourists didn't have to deal with them...

International competitions are ridiculously expensive, and surely every country that hosts a spectacle like this one goes through hardships on many levels to do it (talk to BC taxpayers this year, most are NOT happy). I'm not naive enough to think everything was done above-board even in my own wealthy and priviledged country as it prepared for the Olympics this year. However, I hope I'm safe in my assumption that we didn't have our small children working alonside their parents in the streets to get the job done quicker.

I've spent some time in New Dehli, and when travelling in India in general it was difficult to handle just being witness to the extreme differences in quality of life between and among people in different communities, towns and states. I think the point was even sharper having been raised in an environment of as much priviledge as I've always accepted as simply a 'Right' as a citizen of my country. When I say that I'm not referring to physical wealth per se, as my family certainly wouldn't have been thought of as wealthy, but more in terms of food, clean water, clothing, medical care, education, and being safe from the threat of guns and militant action. Maybe that's why this picture made me so sad.

Maybe the children in the photo are really just playing with some spare tools that are laying around while they wait for their parents to finish, and an overzealous or lazy journalist making assumptions behind the camera; After all, they're all clothed, none of them really appear to be working, right? Maybe the kids really just go hang out at the jobsite because they get fed for being there... maybe. Or, maybe this world we live in still has a long way to go.

Speechless

2010-03-02T16:00:00.001-07:00

Is this not the most beautiful picture ever?
I thought it was an edited photograph all photoshopped to heaven and back.
I going to post it on my photo page to share it, but IT'S A WATERCOLOUR!!!!!...
Thing is, I can't figure out who made it, and I'd like to see more of their stuff...
Am speechless...

Choices

2010-02-27T04:53:00.001-07:00

After some time I decided to make a big move, changing continents, exchanging one culture for another, returning to an old favorite place. I thought it was interesting when I arrived (after the jetlag wore off and I could think in complete sentences) how much differently I see things between one place and another. In relationships, for example, it is almost as though I stop being who I am, melting into some other, different thing, forgetting to do the things needed to be whole, complete and happy. After a much broiled over process I chose to end my relationship in the hopes that we can both be happier and healthier apart, not holding any space for renewal or rekindling, but perhaps enough space for friendship in some time.

A few days ago now I went out for a short visit with some old friends. Friends whose closeness I sacrificed at the time in the name of my relationship, for someone who wanted me all to himself and in the end wasn't worth it, on any level. I felt regret on seeing them again, for what I had lost in the passing, for what could have been and wasn't. I also felt glad that there's room and time enough in life to make changes, try again, do things differently.

It's hard to believe it's already been 10 days since I left, it seems like only a day has passed; in the same breath it's hard to believe that it's only been 10 days since I left, it seems a lifetime... I've been thinking a lot in this bevvy of time to myself, about all of the times I've started to come into my own, into who I am, who I wanted to be, and the ways I let my relationships at the time, most often the romantic ones, take over my life and redirect me from the path that would lead me back to myself, to the things I value. I have been doing this since I was 15 really, and it both saddens and frustrates me to see the pattern and the way I have repeated and repeated it over time, as though my feet couldn't lift themselves from the ruts I'd created.

It's time now, to stand up, get out of the ruts, and walk a new path. Time to take responsibility for this life of mine; for who I am, and who I'm not; for who I want to be, and who I do not; for what I want to do, and what I do not. Time to go to bed for the night, and wake up in the morning back inside myself. Time to take a look around the inside and the outside and take stock of how it is, how it was, and how I want it to be.

While I do the best I can in the moment with what I have, I want to do better and I want to be more of that woman who shines in the back of my mind, that image of the kind of person I deserve to be in the world. Everything happens as it does for good reason, and choices appear when they're needed, so I'm making mine... I choose me... no more others, me... I choose me.

I Am a Fearless Flower

2010-02-15T10:02:00.002-07:00

My note from the Universe this morning reminded me, that I am a fearless flower...

A super-secret, double-reminder for all fearless flowers:

If you but soak up the sunlight you are given,
drink each drop of water I send,
and strive only to be yourself,
life shall quicken in your roots,
spirit shall raise you into the light,
and your bloom will inspire the world.

You see, Shauna... I do all the hard stuff!

The Universe

A New Year is Coming

2009-12-29T14:31:00.001-07:00

I am not a resolution-making kind of girl. I used to be. I'd get all excited and gung-ho (where the heck did that word come from?), pick 2 or 3 things that I meant to do better, wanted to do more often, thought should be made more important. Then, with the rest of the crazies around me, I'd struggle through the next 2 months trying to make it all come about. Exercise more. Eat healthier foods. Cut down on the sugar. Get out of the house more often. Stay in better touch with my friends. At the end of a long line of unresolved resolutions I came to the decision that it was silly for me to 'resolve' once a year to be or do something better, especially when it involved a total overhaul of my then-current ways! This is not because I don't think I can be better or do more, but because I am actually trying to do these things year round - not just when it's fashionable! Stubborn, grumpy, and obstinate though I may be at times, I am who I am, and I pretty much just do things the way I do them. While I know some friends (and family members) would like it if I were more 'normal' or predictable or consistent, that's not likely to happen - this is me on my journey of becoming: like it or lump it!!

So instead of making fruitless resolutions at New Years, I have started my own personal tradition over the past few years of doing only 2 particular things:

1. I spend a half hour sitting outside in the snow dressed warm-warm-warm on New Year's Day with my back to a big tree (any big tree that seems warm and welcoming). Once I'm comfortable (and my bum has gone numb!) I begin by reflecting on the year gone by, and I think about all of the things over the course of the year that I'm grateful for. I send my thanks out into the universe, and say goodbye to the things of old. Then I think about the coming year, and think of the big dreams I want to come true. I send thoughts of happiness, welcome and refreshment into the universe as I welcome the spirit of the New Year into my heart, reflecting on some of my dreams for the coming year. Call it a conversation with nature and the universe if you will. Since I started this newish tradition for myself it has really helped me set the year off on a nice note; a grateful and happy note.
2. I think about a few new things I would like to do or try in the coming year. Maybe it's baking and decorating gingerbread men, maybe it's learning to change the oil in the new car, maybe it's making a special date with my mom or taking Mags swimming in a lake. I try not to make the things on the list too big and complicated - mostly I make the list to keep me thinking about the wonderful things the future brings.

This year I have just started thinking about my list - early even! Those things I rattled off up top actually seem like a good start, so maybe I'll start there... time to start building my list!

My Reminder from the Universe

2009-12-27T22:39:00.006-07:00

You may already know that one of my favorite things in the world that's online is the TUT Adventurer's Club website. Days when I feel kinda down and uninspired I take a spin over to their site to see what's new. This year they've put out a calendar, which I have just finished ordering (yay!!). Personally I can think of someone who would've done a way cooler job on the artwork, but hey, it still looks nice!

Here is my favorite quote (taken from the May calendar page), and the thing I was most in need of hearing today (the baby is just an online extra)...

You don't have to take everything so seriously.

Reality isn't black and white,
answers aren't always yes or no,
and absolutely nothing has to happen today.

Act when you're ready.
Be led by your feelings.

And the next time someone wants to fit you into a mold,

just tell 'em that your jeans are in the wash,

your angels are at the mall,

and Oprah's on the other line.

The Universe

(Oh, and sorry about the double and triple-postings... I don't always remember to spell-check before I hit 'publish' and then I obsessively need to go back and fix it!)

Believing in the Magic

2009-12-24T10:59:00.065-07:00

A friend posted something on her page about the slip from her mom that confirmed for her that Santa wasn't real, and it got me to thinking about my own story... My parents wanted me to belive, they did their best to spin the holiday magic and never said a word, but my need to control and in be in-the-know about everything made it so that I could no longer believe in the magic of Christmas...

Being particularly snoopy (even when I was little!), I always used to search the house for presents my mom had hidden. They were hidden in the closets up on the shelf, under the bed, in the pantry, sometimes in the trunk of the car. I was relentless really, there was nowhere I wouldn't find them. I don't know what started this manic frenzy every year. Sometimes I would coax the tape off to find out what was hidden beneath the wrapping, sometimes it was enough just to hold them and shake them and put them back. I never knew if my mom knew that I used to obsess about it the way I did - I kinda hope that she didn't!

When I was 6, I found the presents for my brother and I that were to be from Santa - beautifully wrapped, and tucked up in the basement rafters (after scrambling atop an old kitched chair that I'd put on top of the old deep freeze). At first I was thoughtful about it, maybe this is how Santa got to everyone's house... dropped things off early? Upon closer examination, I noticed that his handwriting and mom's handwriting were the same - no just similar - the same! Tears stung my eyes, I was disappointed. Even though I was seaching for clues to the truth of Santa, I really didn't want to find out that it was all pretend. I tucked everything back in the rafters, climbed down, stowed the chair back in the storage room, and put on my first 'pretend' happy face at the tree on Christmas morning. I never said anything to my mom until many years later.

Then there was the form letter that the post office sends you when you write a letter to Santa... I remember the first one I opened, my little hands shook I was so caught up in the excitement, magic, and disbelief that I could be so lucky - Santa wrote me a letter back, and it even had my name on it! The next year I was less excited... I noticed that the letter had Name:__________ on the top of it, and because I opened the envelope (before my mom thought to intervene) the name slot was blank. I remember thinking "Oh, this is one of those grown up things that they do to make us feel special... Santa really couldn't write back to all of us, of course that's just silly!" In the final year of my letters to Santa when the reply arrived I noticed that not only did it not have my name on top, but it was exactly the same as the letter my brother got, and identical to the one I had just pulled out of the Christmas box from the year before. Either the letter wasn't really from Santa, or Santa was really lazy and thoughtless. Harumph! Disgusted, I crumpled it up and put it in the trash. That was the same year I found the presents in the rafters.

Even now I recognize that truth about myself, that I often go looking for answers that I don't really want - and then I'm disappointed when I find them. I don't like not knowing, and even though it takes away some of the fun of the moment, I have this incessant need to know everything I can know, to understand what's behind the magic and mystery in the world.

One thing I'm coming away from this year with is knowing that sometimes it's best to just be wrapped up in the magic of the moment, without concern for the how and why of getting there, or what makes things 'just so.' Knowing how and why doesn't always make it better or more meaningful. I remind myself again, I don't need to know how, I don't need to know why... it's magic! Think less, feel more! And I think that if you believe in your heart that something is good and true and real (even if you can't explain it!) then it becomes true. So I believe... in magic, in mystery and wonder, and in the infinte goodness of the universe - especially at this time of year.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-
My "Universe" message from today...

If it's not yet obvious to you, the real reason for this, and all seasons, is you, Shauna. A more perfect child of the Universe has never lived. Until now, only celebrations cloaked in myth and mystery could hint at your divine heritage and sacred destiny. You are life's prayer of becoming and its answer. The first light at the dawn of eternity, drawn from the ether, so that I might know my own depth, discover new heights, and revel in seas of blessed emotion.

A pioneer into illusion, an adventurer into the unknown, and a lifter of veils. Courageous, heroic, and exalted by legions in the unseen.

To give beyond reason, to care beyond hope, to love without limit; to reach, stretch, and dream, in spite of your fears. These are the hallmarks of divinity - traits of the immortal - your badges of honor. May you wear them with a pride as great as the immeasurable pride we feel for you.

Your light has illuminated darkened paths, your gaze has lifted broken spirits, and already your life has changed the course of history.

This is the time of year we celebrate you.
Supercoolhappylovething, you are, Shauna.
Bowing before Greatness,
The Universe

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

I hope that the mystery, magic and wonder of the holiday season bring you happiness, joy and hopefulness to last to whole year through... Merry Christmas!

Simple Smiles

2009-11-29T10:55:00.000-07:00

I took the dog for a walk this morning. Small thing, I know, but it felt really good to go out and about town with her. She was all snuggled up in her warm Sunday best (yes, I make her wear a little plaid flannel coat so she doesn't get cold, she's so tiny!), and everywhere we went people smiled from ear to ear to see her prancing along at the end of the leash. One man, warming up in his big sport utility vehicle with his wife and children rolled down the window to ask, "Are you sure you can handle him?" with a smile. We didn't take offence to the 'him' comment, I chopped off all her hair last weekend and now she kinda does look like a boy, sorry pup! It made me smile to see so many other people smiling at such a simple thing. Later today I'll take a picture of her so you can smile too (or laugh at me, haha, whichever works)... Have a beautiful day, I hope something makes you smile.

Heart

2009-11-17T12:58:00.001-07:00

I am a heart divided. In one moment I am whole and content, living the life in my head rather than the one of my body. I see, I feel, I walk and I breathe as though I have taken the steps I know I need to, as though the difficult conversations have been had, and life is moving onward, toward healing and being whole. I can breathe, I take joy in the sunlight and the wind, in early morning bird calls and the sound of a favorite song on the radio.

Then

I trip

over some imaginary cord

and I'm

jolted

back into the life I'm truly living.

Decisions have been made but they lay inert. Conversations avoided once again, heavy, silent tears in the shower after an endless night of staring at the darkened ceiling overhead. Everything about me is weighted. At home I lead a dark cloud around with me that eats laughter and lightness and joy.

Am I depressed?

No, I don't think it's depression.

I think I'm disappointed.

Sadly and sorely disappointed.

I'm disappointed in myself for the way I'm living my life, for the decisions I make but don't put life behind, and for running in fear. I'm disappointed in myself that I can talk the talk, but don't walk the walk. I value openness and trust, kindness and honesty, but fear keeps me frozen and unable to act.

As I would tell anyone I love in the same position, I know that by choosing not to act I'm doing more harm than good, to us both, but it seems there's always one more reason why I should wait... a few more days, a week, until the end of the month... waiting, waiting, waiting. A family holiday, a medical checkup, a test, illness, a weekend plan, the list has potential to go on and on.

I have stopped writing. The same old story rolls through my head after nearly 6 months have gone by, and even I am tired of hearing the refrain on it's circuit through my mind and my heart. I've stopped being present in my life because I don't know what to say. If I am honest, it isn't even that I don't know what to say, it's that I don't want to say it. Don't want to be the cause of hurt and pain and disappointment and heartache, don't want to be added to a list of disappointments, though I know that is where this ends... for now.

The lifeforce energy of this Saturday
is one of heart... the universe conspires
with us all to act, speak, love and live
from 'heart.' I pray that I will wake up
Saturday morning to find the strength of
heart to return to myself with love, faith
and courage to be open, honest and kind
once again, so that I can once again
start to live my life
with heart.

AWOL

2009-10-15T21:30:00.001-06:00

I have been awful at writing over this past week and a half... not that I haven't had lots going on in my head (that's still exploding all over the place, all dressed up with nowhere to go).

I was away for the Thanksgiving long weekend and working on a school project (due today that I started on Tuesday, eek!) this week. The 1/2 hour presentation for the assessment tool I was teaching went well tonight (woohoo, it's done!), and now only 4 more assignments before the end of the term, ugh! I have to say that I'm pretty sure I have procrastination down to a science, and the universe has been kind enough to supply me with class partners who function in the same manner... thank you Universe!!

This weekend I will come back again, to read the blogs that are starting to be as comfortable as old slippers, and write in the blog that I started to love writing in... more then, I promise!!!

Thoughts become things... choose the good ones!

2009-10-08T07:43:00.000-06:00

My favorite website in the whole world is TUT's Adventurer's Club. Every (weekday) morning I get a little nugget of wisdom from the Universe in my inbox that reminds me to try to see the world in a new way, not to get caught up in the toil and drudgery, and to do what I need to do to be happy. Here are a few of my latest favorites (If you think this is pretty cool too you can join the mailing list, or just check out their fun site if you click on the Universe)...

Did you know, that in your gorgeous little planet's entire history, there's never been a drought that didn't end? A storm that didn't clear? Lightning that didn't retreat? An earthquake that didn't still? A flood that didn't recede? Or a plague that wasn't, eventually, overwhelmed by the healthy? Now, as a rule, I'm not into odds, statistics, or gambling, but it doesn't take a rocket scientist to see that something's going on down there; that the deck is clearly stacked; and that you've got friends in some very, very, very high places.

     HIT ME, BABY! The Universe

Do you know why dogs are so quick to wag their tails and cats are so quick to purr? Even the ones that have been lonely, abused, and betrayed? Because, as is true of all animals, they were instilled with the distant awareness that no matter what the world shows them, they're still deeply loved and needed, that their presence alone has made a difference, and that in just the shake of a leg, seemingly without reason or rhyme, everything can FANTASTICALLY change for the better. As is true of all people, except sometimes they tend to forget.
     Purrfectly, The Universe

It's truly a sight to see, when the inhabitants of any planetary civilization cross the tipping point and begin to individually accept complete and eternal responsibility for their own happiness. Yet, this hardly compares to the mountain quaking, body shaking, polarity-flipping, hero-making occurrences that transpire when such inhabitants graduate to accepting complete and eternal responsibility for their every twinge of unhappiness.
     Brings tears to my eyes... The Universe

There will always be people in your life who hold you back, who cost you too much, and who fail to see all you've done for them. But, of course, they're just there to teach you that you do have time, that you'll always be rich, and that your own high standards are all that matter.

     You knew that, The Universe

Every single minute of every single day, they're there. They may be hidden behind circumstances, people, or light poles. Challenges, closed doors, or lost keys. Camouflaged, dovetailed, or whispering. Purring, kissing, or hissing. But more often than not they're laying about in the open, under a clear blue sky, in plain view. Absolutely. Guaranteed. You'd throttle me otherwise.... 10,000 reasons to be happy.
   Jumanji, baby - The Universe

Relax. Breathe in deep. Hold it. Let it out. Loosen your shoulders. Smile. Close your eyes. And you'll be surprised at how many voices you'll hear, whispering sweet encouragement into your ear.
     Kissey, kissey, you can do it! The Universe

C'ya September

2009-10-02T22:24:00.000-06:00

I've actually done something I set out to do for a whole month straight... happy me!

Awake

2009-10-01T19:34:00.002-06:00

Floating adrift on an endless sea

no line on the horizon

nothingness stretching before me

around me

trying to get inside me

but I am closed off

'you are not welcome'

I say to nothing
closing my eyes
I put my head back
and breathe deeply
waters rolling, rocking me
back to sleep
but wait!
I don't want to go back to sleep!
I remember the work it took
just to wake up
not again, not ever
I close my eyes once more
feet propelling me onward

I picture white sandy beaches
imagine the sand scrunching
between my toes
the sound of waves
breaking on the shore
and transport myself there
walking along the shoreline
feet bare and warmed by the sand
as I walk on
the path turns to pavement

the water and the trees
transform into concrete buildings and cars
the gentle sounds of the water
fade into the noise
of traffic
of life in the city

I'm walking again
shoes sounding on the sidewalk
and I'm home
awake
not quite sure how I got here
or just where I've been
there's sand between my toes
scritching inside my socks
there's seaweed tucked in my ponytail
and water in my ear
the sounds of the sea
seem to follow in my footsteps
and I'm comforted
awake
invoking the beauty of my dreams
to be with me
to fill me
in the hours in between

The Jump Seat

2009-09-30T07:30:00.000-06:00

S was driving, and I was going out of my mind. We were going really fast on foggy late night roads with lots of curves, steep hills, and occasional cliffs on either side. Tearing around corners and leaving ht pavement over bumps, small towns flew by out the window in a blur. Instead of actually looking at the road (or driving), she was turned fully around in her seat trying to talk to me (for some reason I was in the jump seat in the back). I was yelling and screaming that she needed to look at the road, she needed to turn back around and drive before we crashed into something in her shiny new red truck. She told me she knew what she was doing and I was overreacting, she didn’t need to look at the road to drive. I tuned her voice out, she was trying to have a “serious conversation” with me but I couldn’t listen to her, my terror in my throat, my blood pumping in my ears. I hadn’t been wearing my seatbelt, and I struggled around a number of turns and curves to get it on, it was all I could see, but I couldn’t get it to catch. My heartbeat could be felt in every part of my body and I was sobbing, shaking my head, and pushing her away from me at each turn as I struggled with the seatbelt and she tried to get my attention again. Glimpses out the windshield showed trees and cliffs whizzing past the window, and branches scraped the side of the truck at every corner. She patronized me, rolled her eyes and reached an arm behind her to put one hand on the wheel while still turned around, away from the road, away from the cliffs, away from the dangers as the truck went faster and faster. She was nowhere near the brakes, and I was still int he back. Something was wrong with my fingers, I couldn’t get them to work properly, maybe I couldn’t see through my tears, the belt wouldn’t lock, wouldn’t click, I was sure I was going to die in a fiery car wreck. Finally the lock “CLICK”ed and I closed my eyes, gripping the belt for all I was worth. I could finally draw air into my lungs, which were on fire, and I woke bolt upright in bed gasping for breath, my heart beating in my ears, my fists tightly clenched to my chest and my clothes drenched in sweat.

Grrrowl

2009-09-28T09:29:00.000-06:00

It’s not good to bring your personal problems to work, especially when you work with other people as part of your job. You're supposed to tuck them away in a neat little box that you keep under the kitchen sink, where your problems can wait and wind themselves up until you get back to them after work. I know this, and I believe it’s right and true most of the time – but you know what? Some days I just really don’t care.

Maybe it’s because I didn’t get enough sleep. Maybe I wasn’t careful enough leaving the house to make sure the dark fuzzy forms of my 'personal problems' weren’t still glommed on to the bottoms of my socks or tucked away deep in my pockets, but they are sneaky little pests. They found their way to work with me this morning, and I can't seem to get away from the little bastards.

I am not happy, and I am not having a good day, and though it’s very early in the day for that kind of attitude that’s where I’m at. I don't care if you don't like it. I don’t feel like smiling, I don’t feel like laughing at stupid jokes, I don’t care about what lame boring things my coworkers did on their weekends, and I don’t feel like putting on my rose-colored glasses so I can get through the day. This isn’t my normal state, normally I can smile and nod with the best of them, keeping my eyes from glazing over, sometimes even interested in what went on. Today is not one of those days.

Luckily for me my patient had the courtesy to be late in her return to the hospital from her weekend at home, though the family didn’t bother to let us know, so I don’t actually have to see anyone until 1pm. I can work on my behavioural notes from last week and stew. Maybe by 1 o’clock I’ll be able to scrape these guys off the bottoms of my socks and pick them out of the dark corners of my pockets so I care about what’s going on here again more than what’s going on in my grumpy head.

Think it'll be best to take some time to myself tonight. Well, just me and the dark fuzzy bad guys. Are you listening fuzzies? You, me, outside at the bike racks after school. Grrrowl...

Still Something

2009-09-25T12:00:00.000-06:00

She's going to be 19 next week. She plans to be back in university next year. She was out riding her horse when it spooked and bucked, giving her whiplash. She was thrown to the ground, layed there unable to move for over an hour. Her horse returned to the farm without her, and dad came out to find her. She can hardly see, her ataxia makes her movements jerky and hard to control - but she still texts her friends all day long on her cell phone (with a magnifying glass held up to her face). Her voice is flat and her sense of humour is sarcastic. She doesn't know why she just can't go home, she's fine you know, don't I see there's nothing wrong with her? Same as before the accident she says. She'll never be what she was, but she's still something.

He's only 28, soon going to be 29. He's married, they have a one-year old child. He's been here almost a month. He just. stopped. breathing. one night and his wife found him, EMTs came and rushed him to the hospital. Some type of cardiac arrest. Only activity seen was in the brain stem (our base base base brain). He was supposed to die, but he has lived, and he continues to fight. He's pretty much blind, and he can't stand or walk. He's getting stronger, his eyes squeeze shut and his whole body shakes and jolts when he laughs after telling me a bad joke. He'll never be what he was, but he's still something.

She just turned 20. She's been here nearly a year. Pictures of her 'before' are all over her wall. With her friends. Her brother. Her parents. Her graduation class. Happy, lovely, excited, long blonde hair, fully alive. She'll probably never walk, and she hates her chair. She's angry. She gives me the finger about a hundred times a month, and then tries to laugh. She can get out a few words now. The first word I heard her say was 'hi', the second was 'motherfucker'. We're friendly. She was riding in the car driven by her ex-boyfriend (ex for a good reason), home for summer after her first year away at univesity. She was going to be a teacher. He had been drinking, they were arguing. She was more confident after being away at university. She didn't want to get back together, told him she hated him for being so mean to her, and that she would never take him back. He missed a turn and drove the car off a cliff. He walked away. She doesn't remember anything that happened up to a month before the accident. She wonders why he doesn't visit. She loves him. She'll never be what she was, but she's still something.

She's 24. She's been here for 8 days, but she swears adamantly that it's been at least 4 months, and that she's going home next week. She smiles and laughs but her eyes and her voice are just flat, like a robot. She was in the car on a family vacation, summer off from nursing school. The car flipped. Everyone else was ok, enough. Her arm is in a sling, and her mind is like a mixed-up puzzle, the pieces put together in a way that doesn't make sense. She tries to make order out of it. She thinks she has made order out of it - what do I know, maybe she has. She talks and walks, and if you didn't know you'd never guess. Unless you actually listened. She'd never guess. She hasn't yet. She'll never be what she was, but she's still something.

Some days it is harder to work here than others. Coming in is a daily reminder about how lucky I am in life, and how quickly your luck can run out - no matter what kind of person you are in life. What keeps me coming back is knowing that where there was once no sparkle and shine, where there were no words, where there was no clarity, there's still something that can be coaxed out into the light. And while it might not make a person what they were, they're still something.

When I Grow Up...

2009-09-24T22:31:00.001-06:00

When I grow up I wanna be famous, I wanna be a star, I wanna be in movies
When I grow up I wanna see the world ,Drive nice cars, I wanna have groupies
When I grow up Be on TV, People know me, Be on magazines
When I grow up Fresh and clean , #1 chick when I step out on the scene

This song is stuck in my head, I love it (bad, I know!). What about me and when I grow up? God knows I don't feel the need to be on TV or on the cover of a magazine (I am a junior high modelling school dropout!). I'm in such dithers about a career path though. In the generation of my parents, you chose a job out of high school (or got one after college if you were lucky enough to go) and kinda stuck it out, loyal to your job and employer through 'til retirement. Me, I'm not built that way. I want my job to be challenging, to make me think, to learn new things, to help me grow and change. I have had some great jobs, and I have worked with some incredible people, but as of yet there is still nothing that feels quite right. It feels almost as though I am going through jobs figuring out exactly what I *don't* want to do for a living!

When I decided to go to university I knew I would go into a psychology program. I graduated high school knowing I wanted to be a psychologist. After a few volunteer positions that allowed me to do some counselling, I left knowing that I definitely didn't want to counsel adults (too dead end and draining for me), but I was still really interested in doing counseling of some kind with kids. After getting 1/2way through my master's in school psychology I continue on knowing that I don't want to be a school psychologist (too limiting in effect and opportunity). I am D E E P L Y I N T RI G U E D with thoughts of doing trauma counselling with children, and am currently investigating how best to get into that kind of field. How on earth though will I know if that is going to be what I'm looking for?

The perfect career will:

be something that lets me help kids and their families
allow me to work a normal amount of hours in a week
pay well enough to live comfortably and be active and independent
afford me the time (flexibility) and money to travel
allow me to participate in workshops through the year that were interesting, inspiring, and relevant
give me opportunities to travel for work
always present a 'next big thing' to learn and get good at

Keepin' my eyes peeled, in case the time comes when I decide it's time to grow up.

In Silence

2009-09-24T07:38:00.003-06:00

How do I help you know
to believe, to see
that you are not to blame
for me?

Where are the words
that could help you hear
that only your love
kept me going that year?

How do I make
the shape of my soul
visible
so you can see
how much your love
has changed me

You couldn't have loved me better
I couldn't have loved you more

I couldn't have loved you better

You couldn't have loved me more

My heart breaks anew every time
I see the new glimmer in your eyes
dampen and grow dimmer
my untidy reflection
causing you sorrow and pain
my best friend in the world

How do I find the words
to tell you how sorry I am
that I didn't love you better,
that I didn't love you the way you needed,
that I didn't give you more,
that I didn't help you up sooner,
that I didn't make you better,
that I didn't let you in deeper,
that I didn't have the words,
that I didn't know how to be anyone but me,
and that I couldn't have loved you more

How do I tell you, the inside-you,
that you are one of
the strongest and most
beautiful women that
I've ever met
that you are capable
of so many incredible things
in this world
if you only believe it yourself

How do I tell you that
the light that shines from your heart
could make shadows flee
from countless dark corners
and that I know this
as it has chased away mine

For someone who thinks herself
so verbal
so wordy
so talkative
screams come out in silence
and when I reach for words
they duck away from my tongue
hiding in the shadows
and never come
only tears
quiet, lonely, slow, sad, heavy tears

There are no words

and silence is what I'm left with

Wheels turning

Sorrows building

Heart loving

Eyes crying

Soul sighing

Lungs crushing

Silence

Desiderata (Things to Be Desired)

2009-09-22T22:38:00.001-06:00

One of my favorite writings, and some current musings it brings up for me... reminders about the way I want to live my life...

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.

When I allow myself a return to the silence I remember what it is to be peaceful, to 'go with the flow', and the align myself with the energy of the universe... don't get caught up with it all, go within.
As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.

No grudge bearing, no sniping and gossipping, so holding on to old wounds and old weapons. Without sacrificing who I am and what I need I will do my best to treat people well, with respect and kindness.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.

Shallow brooks are noisy, so run deep. I try to remember that I don't have to hit people over the head with truths that are my own in order to be understood. It is me that needs to understand, me that needs to have heart in what I believe. When working at being on good terms with all persons I have had the chance to listen to some I would say are dull and ignorant, and sometimes they teach the bigger lessons.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit.

Peolpe who are unable to see the beauty in everyday life and in others around them are no longer invited to sit at my campfire... there is something incredible everywhere I look, and I want that to be surrounded by those who help me to see it...
If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Though I might have a higher education and be priviledged in the kind of life I live, I see people all around me who have more, do better, have survived worse and come through better. I'm in this life for me, and just for me, that's what I'm learning is important. "You'd worry less what other people thought of you if you knew how seldom they did," one of my favorite quotes.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

I am working on finding enjoyment in finishing something, achieving something, and not just getting lost in the scramble down the next path. I am all about the journey, but sometimes I forget entirely about the destination... take some time to look around and appreciate what's been accomplished before moving on...
Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

As much as I know that I'm supposed to keep telling myself "I am not what I do, I am more than what I do", 'what I do' is an important part of who I am. Much of my self-confidence comes from being successful and respected in my work. My success at work depends on being able to maintain my interest in the job. I am interested in what I do when I feel challenged and excited by the work I'm doing. It's important me to find challenge in what I do.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Thank god there is so much virtue in the world around me, or I might actually lose my mind. I never lose sight that there are heroes everywhere in my life. I see them every day at work, the patients, their families and loved ones, the people who come to work every day to work with a population as challenging as those with brain injuries... the world may be full of trickery, and it's not the 'best plan' to run headlong unawares into new situations, but I see the world to generally be a good place.

Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass.

Do not feign affection... so maybe that means be true to what you really think and how you really feel. Be honest, be real, be you. Don't give up on love, it is all around in so many forms if you only allow yourself to be open to it. This is not the easiest on the list, but it is surely something I desire to be/do.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Listen to your mom, she knows what she's talking about - and stop leaving your socks in the middle of the floor, there's nobody here to clean up after you! Surrending the things of youth... only to a point though. I know things have to change the older we get, we have to be responsible, have to be reliable and dependable, have to contribute to society, but I will try to make sure I only surrender the things that keep me from making wonderful things happen in my life... I give away my past hurts, old grudges, dusty fears, and pig-headed deafness... In exchange I embrace an open heart, a lighter outlook, and a more positive dream of life and living.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune, but do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

I know that bad things happen to good people, and that despite the best laid plans things can get away from you and go awry. However, it does no good to surround yourself with worries about the terrible things that could go wrong, or the bad things that could happen. I will take care of myself, nourish my spirit and replenish my heart at every opportunity so that I don't have to live a life of fear and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Okay critical little nay-ssayer that lives in my head sometimes, are you listening now? I'm just human. I will try to do the best I can in all situations. I will try to be my best as often as humanly possible, but I am not going to be perfect, and I don't have to be perfect. These things that seem like mistakes and failures in the moment are just things that lead to bigger, brighter, and more beautiful days ahead... everything happens for a reason (yes, even that guy up there who cut you off, it happened for a reason, just breeeeeeeeeathhhhhhhhe).

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive God to be.

Some days I think it's all God's fault, other days I don't really have an opinion about God in the big picture. I know that what it all boils down to is that I am responsible for directing the energy I put out into the universe. What comes back to me is whatever I invited with my thoughts and actions. Think well of life, do well with life, good things will come.
And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.

Take a moment in the day to close your eyes and remember that there are incredibly beautiful things in this life, in this world. Pictures something beautiful that makes your heart happy to be alive. There is always something to bring myself back to.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

The most simple and the most difficult, summed up in one. A commitment to myself... Though I may not always be a chipper soul, I will work to have a positive outlook on the world. I will strive to be happy in life, no matter what else.

Certainly a list of things that I desire to be part of my way of life, as easy as breathing. Wishing you peace, happiness and beauty as you go through your day... S.

A Memory

2009-09-19T10:10:00.001-06:00

you surround me

in your

delicate

blossoming dance

of fire and rain

as the night

dissolves

the hurricane in my soul

into the soft blue

whispering shadow

of a beautiful dream

Old Friends

2009-09-18T12:53:00.000-06:00

An old friend got in touch with me yesterday. It's been 15 years since we last spoke, nearly. He said he came across my grad school bio last week online (not sure how he fell across that little tidbit!), and decided to look me up on good ole' Facebook. There are 2 people with my name on their server (the other is from London and has decidedly different features from me), so at that point it likely wasn't that hard to find me.

I was touched that he thought to look me up.

We were good friends, great friends you might say, but not long-time friends. He was someone I had a short, fun, exciting and crazy intense relationship with. I genuinely liked him. We met online, and talked for hours and hours over months. I remember being exhausted in classes some days because we had stayed up all night talking. Talking, talking, talking. I flew to the other end of the continent over my freshman winter vacation to spend it with him (my first time travelling outside the country).

He was going to UCLA at the time, he was interested in politics, he made me laugh, he was interested in me and he was smart - and he made me feel smart, beautiful and sexy. He was good for me. I remember the nervous feeling in my stomach as I was getting off the plane to meet him, all the questions racing around in my head (mostly about my level of sanity!!)... he met me at the airport with a rose, (I wasn't hard to impress at 18!), and we stayed at his loft in LA. He showed me all around the city, took me on my first trip to Disneyland, Hollywood, Venice beach... it was an incredible vacation (thank you student loans people!), and I remember it with nothing but fondness (and a bit of pink flush in cheeks, even now).

We had a fantastic time together, and after that we didn't really stay in touch (I don't remember that we did, anyway, beyond the requisite 'thank you card' type of follow up). I think of him occasionally, wonder how he's been. I come across photos occasionally in my piles of pictures... my fresh, young 18-year old self, blonde hair blowing beside the ocean, all excited about life and carefree... navel pierced and belly bared beneath a cropped tshirt... jeans barely hanging onto slim hips... confident and beautiful... smiling into the camera he was holding, a real smile behind my sparkling eyes... I look at the pictures now and again, and I smile, remembering how it felt to be me...

Life moved on for both of us, as it does, and we grew up... he spent some time in the army (a lot of time actually, surprised me, that one!), got married, got divorced, finished university, had a bunch of different jobs, and now he's taking care of his father and working on being a writer (something in the California water, I think). Such different stories from ones I thought he might have had. And then again maybe not so different underneath it all...

How does he see me, after our brief reacquaintence? How does he remember our time together, I wonder? Men and women have such different outlooks, different perspectives on life, on people. I'd like to hear about that time in our lives through his eyes...

Personal Development Day

2009-09-15T21:19:00.001-06:00

Today at work I did a Myers-Briggs workshop that told my bosses how Carl Jung might explain the 'psychology of me', and how I best work (i.e. how the management can best use me to their advantage). Results were (unfortunately for them!) that I was likely to be insubordinate if I didn't support the authority line and they didn't have my 'buy-in', and that I am likely just to ignore the rules when I don't feel they suit me and do what is most interesting/useful to me - ha! Maybe I shouldn't have gone to the workshop,they were pretty oblivious before! Too late... When I got home I checked out some free online versions to see if I would get the same thing, and I totally did (but I found so much more about how my personality style affects the way I live my life).

So who knew it, but I'm an ISTP... can you even pronounce that?! Last time I was in a job that did this workshop I was an INFP, which didn't really resonate with my own feelings about the kind of person I was, but this one is bang on, almost in that "twilight zone theme song" kinda way... keeping company with Clint Eastwood, James Dean, Bruce Lee, and Katharine Hepburn, ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh yaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh....

Since I spent most of my day at work after the workshop looking up information related to my profile I can say that today was a particularly informative 'personal developement' day (thank you work!)! Much food for thought about how I deal with life, and particularly about what's going on right now in my relationship and the way I'm handling it... as well as about why I can never seem to 'stay put' once the challenge is past or it just doesn't make sense to stay. I would encourage you to spend a day obsessing, and see what you might learn about yourself...

ISTPs can be very intense and exciting individuals. Their strong Thinking preference makes them seem rather aloof and "hard to get". Their Sensing and Perceiving preferences make them sensual, earthy individuals, which makes them attractive to the opposite sex. ISTPs live entirely in the current moment, which makes them especially interested in new sensations and experiences. They strongly dislike routine and strict schedules, and resist being controlled by others.

They are fiercely independent and need their own space within a relationship. When involved in relationships which provide for their basic needs and which present them with new experiences, the ISTP will be happy to do what's necessary to keep the relationship alive and well. If a relationship becomes boring or oppressive to the ISTP, they will try to fix it, or move on. ISTPs take their commitments on a day-by-day basis. Even if they say "I do", it usually means "I do for now". They do not like to make lifelong commitments, although they may very well be involved in lifelong relationships which they have taken one day at a time.

This is just a snippet of what you might find online if you look up your own profile, but no need to drown you in my own details so I'll stop there.

It's been really interesting for me. My biggest obstacle in ending my relationship, which I have been 'trying' to do for the past 2 months, is that I can't come up with a clear and concrete description for why I know it isn't going to work, and she just plows through asking me to give it another month, and I say nothing... I just know why it's done, I can't explain it, and she wants more than that. I can say that I feel a little less 'romantically stunted' after learning some more things that make sense about how I am in life, and I understand a bit better why I'm having trouble making it clear even though I'm not shifting from my own position... where was Jung in my life 10 years ago??? Wait... stuck in the back of a useless textbook in a second-hand bookstore... oops again...

A very simple version of the test (5 minutes or less) can be found here, and a longer test can be found here (10 minutes max). I only mentioned the free ones, there are some great pay sites as well if you just google. Once you know your type, information is really available everywhere online to find out more about it (this site is pretty good!).

The area that stands out most for me is the reminder that I'm an 'in the moment' liver of life (person who lives, not icky detoxing organ, ugh), but I do what's right for me, what I know to be right, because it's right for me. I used to know this about myself, and I've covered it in a fine layer of glitter and sand.. I need to get back to that part of me now...

P.S. One site also suggested that I was likely to be almost freaky about how often I needed to change my blog layout and colours and such so I stay involved with it, so sorry for those of you who like to come to the same place every time you stop by... I just can't do it!!! :)

Incidental Update on the Coffee Deprivation Experiment

2009-09-15T08:47:00.026-06:00

Thanks to a reminder from a friend, I remembered only this morning that today is my last day of going without coffee!! When I started my little mini-detox from coffee at the beginning of the month, I didn't know whether I was going to turn into a raging lunatic in the mornings or if I was just going to sleep through my days. If my parents were any example, I should have probably taken 2 weeks off when I started this little project!

Often enough for the first few days I was admittedly sluggish, and I almost felt like I was plodding through a jello-world on the time/space continuum (without the sweet-suga' payoff!). After that though things kind of went back to normal (says I). My office-mate Nick very politely told me that I wasn't as 'friendly and chatty' for the first few days - of course I then felt the need to apologize to the guy... he's just a poor psych intern student after all! Come to think of it, maybe he was actually telling me he was finally getting some peace in the mornings instead of my non-stop chattering! Hmm...

I did miss coffee though. I missed the yummy flavour, the warm nudge, and I missed carrying my babba everywhere with me!! So after 2 weeks I can say that I don't turn into a beast without coffee, and I can still get through my days in a relatively productive fashion. I didn't sub in any other caffeinated bevvies in that time either, I've just been drinking decaf green and white tea, plus a whole lotta water. It's good to know though that I don't need coffee to get by in the day (other than the bleary-eyed beginnings that come without it initially!).

I tell you this though... I sure am looking forward to that nice hot mug tomorrow... maybe I'll also pack a thermos!! Poor Nick...

I Remember, and I Will Always Remember

2009-09-11T23:09:00.009-06:00

      It's early and the blankets are pulled up over my head. There's a cat sleeping on my chest and I am happily trapped, snug, safe and warm in my bed. The scent of you is on the pillow my face is buried in as I drift and dream.
      Aw crap, the phone is ringing, "damn phone, frickin' racket, who is calling this early in the stupid morning, ugh," and I fumble around, my arm slapping around the bed to locate the source of noise that's pulled me from my sweet dreams. You're on the phone in your 'tough voice' being all business-like telling me that there's been an attack on the US and that you're not coming home, they're not letting you leave the base and you're dagging up in 24hrs. In my sleep I think this joke isn't very funny and I hang up on you, kinda angry, but mostly asleep. Since you were a patient man you called me back again, "no babe, you've gotta wake up, wake up now! and listen to me, it's important and I'm not playing around - now sit up."
      My heart falls into my stomach as I push the tangles of hair out of my eyes, and tendrils of the conversation from minutes before wind their oily selves around my tender, loving, naiive, open-hearted mind. I start crying, wrapped in disbelief and confusion. Terrorists... in the US... plane crash... explosions... the WTC... "Terrorist attacks? What? There are no terrorists here. Wait, what are you saying?! What happened? Oh my God, this isn't real, and I'm still asleep, that's it isn't it?" "No babe, this is real, you aren't asleep, and I'm not going to be able to come home for awhile babe, I can just come get some stuff this afternoon, but I can't really talk to you any more about it when I get there..." "You're not coming home? What do you mean you're not coming home? They can't do that! Your toothbrush is here, you can't leave without your toothbrush, they can't just up and make you leave..."
      Your toothbrush, it's silly but I remember the conversation clearly, and it was like you didn't even blink. You had 4 hours in the afternoon once orders were confirmed to come home, grab your gear, say goodbye, and get back to base to be ready to leave. Your voice is so strong on the phone, my heart aches to have you with me, beside me, telling me it will all be okay, but all I really want to do is throw up. I refuse to do a thing until you get here, until you're home and I can see you, talk to you, look in your eyes, kiss you. I begin padding around the house in my bare feet, my robe pulled tightly around me and my mind racing as I spend the next 2 hours feeling helpless and lost, half-listening to the news trickle in over the radio little by little i this new and altered reality of my life. What were they playing on the radio? I don't remember, did they stop the music that day? Was it only news? I don't know. I walk in circles and circles and circles, around and around and around the house waiting for you to come home. I hear your key in the lock and I rush to the door to throw my arms around you.
      You looked different, your eyes are hard, softening for a moment when you pull me tight to your chest. "Come on babe, we've gotta get my kit n' shit together." I don't want to help you gear up, I want to have a tantrum to make you stay, stomp and scream and cry until you promise not to leave. I have a billion questions that you aren't allowed to answer. I hate the army again. I have no idea where you are going, what you are going to be asked to do, and when you will be coming home. As surreal a time as it was, I had no idea at this point the extent of chaos that reigned within places I always imagined to be safe, impermeable. All I knew was that I wanted you with me.
      You being always prepared, it didn't take us long to pull your stuff together. I'm sure I've barely blinked and now you are heading out the door. You give me a quick squeeze and a kiss. "Don't you dare say goodbye to me (though I know that you never say goodbye when you're leaving this way), you just come back safe. You be strong, and you come back safe to me. Oh, God I love you... I love you," and the door closes. I lean my forehead against it, choking back my sobs so you don't hear as you leave. I am proud of you for being who you are. I am proud of your strength, your determination, your sense of honour and committment to what you believe in. I am glad you are going to be there to help the people that needed you, to help sort through the confusion, wherever they were sending you. I will wait here, I will be strong for you, safe at home until you come back to me.
      Many years have passed since that horrible day, and not one day goes by without thoughts of you, without sending you love out into the big blue. Thank you for being so strong, for being so patient, and for coming home safe to me after those awful days apart. Though I lost you anew to a different(?) terror and my own fumbling indecision, I will always remember. I will honour the things you believed in, the things that were planted deep, hung up high for all to see on the flagpole of your heart.
      For all those who were not so lucky, those who lost someone this day not so many years ago, I will look at their photos again when I can find them, I will read their stories again, and I will remember, to keep even a small part of them here safe at home.

A daily reminder

2009-09-10T13:03:00.000-06:00

Inspired by a fellow blogger Danigirl and my total awe for her well-inspired 365 project (you can see her project page here) I have decided to try something like it for myself. I love photography, sometimes it seems I really do need an excuse to pull out the camera, and I can look back on it as a cool accomplishment once I'm done!

My photo blog, the place I plan to save as a home for my project, is here, and my flickr page (where I'm keeping my photos) is here (just look for 'A Year in Pictures') and here (my everyday 'keepers' that don't make the 'big cut". I just decided last weekend to start taking some time each day to find something I would like to freeze in time, if only for the moment, and then write something about what it means for me at week's end. The daily photo I'm adding to my photo-page sidebar, and maybe at some point I'll figure out how to add it here too, but one-thing-atta-time!

So far I am off to a good start, having a whole 5 days done!! Haha, only 360 more to go. It is going to be an interesting challenge to hold value in something that is only for me, to uphold a committment to myself instead of dismissing it as 'something trivial' when I'm feeling overworked or overrun, and to follow a project through its life, from beginning to end, without abandoning it (or myself) in the process.

It is a gentle reminder to me, much needed in this speeded-up world we (or at least I) inhabit these days, to slow down, take a minute (or an hour, or a day) for myself, and breathe in something beautiful.

Invading my inner silence

2009-09-08T08:38:00.002-06:00

I stood in front of the window looking out beyond
still above the dishes in the sink, the cooling dishwater,
eyes unfixed somewhere in the future of time
listening to the song on the radio

I've practiced this for hours, gone round and round
and now I think that I've got it all down
as I say it louder I love how it sounds
'cause I'm not taking the easy way out
not wrapping this in ribbons
shouldn't have to give a reason why...

It's no surprise I won't be here tomorrow
I can't believe that we stayed till today
though you and I will be a tough act to follow
I know in time we'll find this was no surprise

It came out like a river once I let it out
when I thought that I wouldn't know how
held onto it forever just pushing it down
it feels so good to let go of it now
not wrapping this in ribbons
shouldn't have to give a reason why

It's no surprise I won't be here tomorrow
I can't believe that we stayed till today
there's nothing here in this heart left to borrow
there's nothing here in this soul left to say

If I could see the future and how this plays out
I bet it's better than where we are now
but after going through this
it's easier to see the reasons why

You shouldn't have to give a reason why, but somehow you do. Tell me, how do you manage not wrapping it in ribbons when all you want is to lessen the pain? All the practicing in the world hasn't made it any easier for me, or the picture any clearer. 2 months have passed since I knew it was time, and predictably, here I still am, going round and round. If I could see the future and how this plays out, I bet it's better than where we are now...

Get me out of this dotty room!

2009-09-06T19:52:00.001-06:00

Ok, I had something else on the go to post for today but I got sidetracked (and it's already getting late!) looking for a new template for this page. So...for all of you much-smarter-than-me bloggers out there, H-E-L-P!!

I don't want to use the themes that are freely available from blogger. No offence to blogger, but there's sure not a lot of choice!! I have looked all over online, and each time I try to download a template I end up with some garbeldy-goop that I can't make work on here, something about xlm/zip/incompatible badness.

If you have some suggestions on where I might look, I would *REALLY* appreciate it!!

A wonderful weekend

*Edited to add...
Ok, I at least found the html editing options, and I don't hate it so much... I'll just pull back the curtains, open up the windows and make nice with it!

The missing piece

2009-09-04T19:53:00.001-06:00

"Do you ever feel that way? Lonely? Restless. As if you haven't really met yourself yet. As if you'd passed yourself once in the fog, and your heart leapt - 'Ah! There I Am! I've been missing that piece!' But it happens too fast, and then that part of you disappears into the fog again. And you spend the rest of your days looking for it." Libba Bray (The Sweet Far Thing)

It is confusing to me, to be surrounded by people, to be loved, and yet still feel lonely and restless, to wish I lived another life. There are many days when I don't really seem to notice, I forget that I wanted something more and I get happy again, fading into the tidy little rut that I've dug for myself where I don't want to do or be or see or live more. Then my heart wakes up, gives me a snap on the ass with a wet dish cloth (or a clunk in the back of a head with a 2x4, as it sometimes happens), and the truth echoes in my head as I remember all over again.

This rut is not me. This rut is not me. This rut is not me. This rut is not me. This rut is not me. This place of sinking and stagnation is not me. This place of sinking and stagnation is not me. This place of sinking and stagnation is not me. This place of sinking and stagnation is not me. This place of sinking and stagnation is not me. This gradual deflating and fading is not me. This gradual deflating and fading is not me. This gradual deflating and fading is not me. This gradual deflating and fading is not me. This gradual deflating and fading is not me.

I have lost myself again and now I wait to feel that spark of recognition from within the fog, when I allow myself to be found.

From the mind to the body?

2009-09-03T19:02:00.000-06:00

Most people think that the mind and the body are separate and function independently. I think it's more true to say that these two usually work together in shaping what becomes of our experiences. Sometimes what's going on in our head can reduce or eliminate the effects of physical problems, other times it can exacerbate them. Have you ever found yourself to get sick with seemingly no explanation? Have you ever thought about what was going on in your life, and how it might be impacting your physical health? I'm not talking about the (a) stub your toe (b) toe hurts like crazy kind of pain, I mean more of the bigger picture, pains or illnesses that you have that don't have that stub-pain foundation.

I think there's something to the idea that your body goes out of its way to accommodate the things going on in your mind - just the way the universe goes out of its way to accommodate your thoughts. Maybe the body does it to help you see what you're doing to yourself though, compared to the universe, which does it because your thoughts set the path you lay before yourself. Maybe you get laryngitis and lose your voice because you won't or can't speak, say what you need to say to someone in your life? Maybe your muscles seize up and you can no longer turn your head because you don't want to look around and see what's happening around you? Maybe you get chronic diarhhea because you allow yourself to be treated poorly, taking in only the 'shitty' things in life (shit in, shit out)?

That's one theory anyway... Interesting to think about anyway, as I head for the bath to nurse my own aches and pains.

Mmmm, coffee...

2009-09-02T09:31:00.000-06:00

When I was a kid, I remember that in the mornings you just didn't talk to either of my parents until they'd had their first cup of coffee. Up until that point in the day they were just craaaaaaanky! That, and they were smokers, so their early morning cigarette had to have taken effect as well before they seemed to be able to deal with the reality of their lives, having children and jobs and all that.
Me, I just started drinking coffee a few years ago (and am lucky enough to have never started smoking, ugh!). When I was younger younger and everyone I know was addicted to their 10 cups a day I really didn't like the taste of coffee, so I just didn't drink it. Now I like the taste of only one coffee, the maxwell house original roast you get in the grocery store, and pretty much only if it's brewed at home. I'm not a fan of Tim Horton's (gasp! bad Canadian, I know), Second Cup or Starbuck's, though I have been known to drink the occasional mochaccino!). When I do make it to Starbucks and I'm willing to cough up $6 for a hot drink I usually order a soy chai latte with a vanilla shot (ohh, or a superhot chai eggnog latte at christmas!), and there ain't no coffee to be found in there!!

Now I drink it in the mornings, carried around until lunch in my big stainless blue indestructible Starbuck's travel mug that holds 20oz. S calls the mug my babba, as she says I carry it around like a baby does with their bottle (I have even been found napping on the couch with my babba tucked securely under my arm!!). I am quite fond of my mug, and I can mix the perfect cup of coffee in it (it just doesn't turn out the same in one of those little ceramic coffee cups!) that stays hot and yummy until lunchtime - this is a good thing, because I'm so distractible that it takes me about 5 hours to get to the bottom of my cup anyway!

Recently I decided that I'm going to stop drinking my lovely morning brew for a bit, because I am curious to find out whether or not it is indeed having any kind of effect on me in the mornings. Am I slower without it? Grumpier? More tired? Irritable? I don't know, so I'm waiting to find out. It wasn't a health decision, most research today suggests that coffee does a lot of good things for you. Working in a hospital means that my inbox spam is very often filled with new research articles (some well done, others not-so-much!), so I have read quite a few things lately that contrast the 'old news' about coffee. For example, did you know that for your average healthy adult... (1) The water you drink in coffee does count toward that '8 glasses per day' that the health-conscious are supposed to drink! Although coffee has diuretic properties, the water that it contains does the same thing as when you drink water. (2) Drinking coffee has been suggested to be a protective factor against alzheime's, parkinson's and dementia later in life. (3) People who drink 1-2 cups of coffee before an exam or other mentally demanding task produce higher scores than those who do not (caffeine enhances mental efficiency, reaction times, memory and IQ).

Over the next 2 weeks I'm going to keep an eye on myself and see if anything is different. So far this is day 2 coffee free, and there's no noticeable difference, so we'll see!! Stay tuned...

Radio Tunes and Random Information

2009-09-01T13:42:00.001-06:00

Have I ever mentioned that I hate serious conversations at bedtime? I really hate anything at bedtime that isn't to do with sleeping - when I go to bed, that's all I want to do: go to bed, close my eyes, and go to sleep. Weird, I know, but true! I realize that I am difficult to pin down, and that (particularly recently) I am more difficult to convince into a serious conversation, even from the shallow end. Perhaps it's because I'm afraid of what's in the water. I don't want to be the cause of more pain, but it would seem that that's how it's working out anyway.

"What activity makes you feel most like a little kid again?" she asked, as we were going to sleep. "You've been so serious these days, I would like that little girl inside to come out and play with me....(silence...)"

"You aren't any fun anymore" is what I hear behind her carefully considered question. "Why don't you laugh and smile when you're with me anymore?" I didn't really give much of an answer, unwilling to go there right before I went to sleep. Unwilling really to go there at all, a coward. "I don't know. There isn't really an activity, not really. Camping maybe? No, that's not it. There is no real activity that does that, it's more of an energy that comes, not some particular event." That was the end of the conversation.

Of course I woke up thinking about it (and probably spent the night dreaming about it, which is why I hate serious conversations right before I go to sleep). It's a true answer, that there's no real activity I do that makes me feel like a little kid again; it's more about how I'm feeling when I'm doing it that does that. I wake knowing that I'm not a lot of fun at home right now. I'm not incredibly happy right now. Things in my life are serious at the moment; and grown-up times call for a grown-up presence. This time that I am in, that we are in, is not one that I feel like my little girl should be out in the world to deal with. She had enough to be grown up about (long ago, when I couldn't protect her) and now her only job in life is to be fun, to be a little kid filled with wonder, joy and delight. Now I protect her, keeping her safe, guiding her through the waters and keeping her from the storms that would have her smashed up against the rocks. She is out in the world only when it's safe for her, and that's how it will stay. This time of sadness, of regrets, of disconnect and filtered joy is not kid-friendly. Don't read me wrong, it isn't that by any stretch of the imagination anything treacherous or awful is happening, or that I'm feeling unsafe or even vulnerable. Just that my life isn't the life of a little kid right now.

Funny that this conversation has come up now, when I was just thinking yesterday about how I've been feeling like two different people walking through life. On one hand I'm my normal self, thinking doing and being as I always have, when I'm by myself. On the other hand I'm also this other me that is more serious than not, less happy than I used to be. Removed. I'm happy at work, and happy on my own at home, reserved when S and I are together, wary of giving her hope for something that I know isn't going to be. I recognize this division, this dichotomy of me. It's what happens when I stop listening to that little voice that comes from within and knows the truths of my own gigantic universe. I know this because I've been here before. Yet stubbornly I remain here, for the wrong reasons, "giving it some time," ignoring that voice, filling the spaces with radio tunes and random information.

Missing You

2009-08-31T08:15:00.003-06:00

3 years have passed

since you died

they have been long years

and every day I have missed you

Your birthday is coming

and my heart weighs a little bit more

Funny (or sad) how

you just don't know

quite how much

someone really means to you

until you don't get to see them again

I will always remember

your surprise trip down to see me

the tentative phone call
when you came home on leave

and the trouble we managed to get into

when I headed up your way
for a little more time together

before you went back

the following week

I remember so many things

but that was the last time
I saw you, touched you,
looked in your eyes

The late night phone call

from the desert
once you were gone again

You were missing me
and I cried
I wake up with a start

in the still and quiet dark

expecting you
hearing your voice on the line

still

I wish every day that you hadn't

gone back to Afghanistan

no matter how much you wanted to

and felt it to be the right thing
I hate that dusty place I've never seen
for taking you away

But like you always said,

it is what it is right?

And being what it is,

I just wanted you to know

that I'm still missing you

xox

A little bit 'o retail therapy

2009-08-30T14:16:00.004-06:00

     I woke up this morning in an ok/so-so kinda mood, and bumbled around until I finished up a cuppa coffee and a few pages of Plain Truth (ok so far, tho not spectacular yet). I thought about going for a run, but honestly didn't manage to muster up the energy to do it. Then I decided it was time to get off my butt n' go shopping (had to pick up some stuff for the house).
     I got some groceries, yums for the bird and dogs, coffee, normal kinds of things... then I 'happened' by the sports wear section and ended up with a few TOTALLY cute new tops/bottoms that will work for yoga, the gym, and running (multi taking clothes, woohoo!)... and then I wandered over and picked up a few new skivvies (so I can do some much needed retiring of the oldies when I get home!). Had some yummy junk food for lunch, checked out my favorite dollar store (WHICH I might add is ALREADY stocked for C*h*r*i*s*t*m*a*s - where the frig do I live???!!!!!) and then drove back to town with the sun shining down, sunroof open, hair flying all over the place, singing along with the radio blastin' some summer tunes - what a great day so far!
     Maybe it's because it's beautiful outside and finally feels like summer again today, but how come I always feel so much better after shopping? Maybe it has something to do with the old hunting and gathering days, the satisfying feeling of bringing home my 'catch' at the end of a hunting expedition, haha. So now all I need to do is figure out how to feel this good WITHOUT spending hundreds of dollars at a time!!!!
     Good thing I have a good job I guess!   ;)   Hope your day is beautiful!

Ha!

2009-08-29T16:30:00.002-06:00

~~1. Put library books in a neat pile (or 4!) in the office~~
~~2. Put away other random papers in kitchen and living room~~

~~3. Put away clean dishes from the dishwasher~~
~~4. Put dirty dishes into the dishwasher~~
~~5. Wipe the counters and stovetop~~
~~6. Check the fridge – any science experiments?~~
~~7. Sweep: office, hallway, bathroom, bedroom, living room, kitchen~~

~~8. Spray mop the kitchen floor~~

~~9. Wash the kitchen windows~~

~~10. Clean out the birdcage and change water/food~~

~~11. Tidy up the bookshelf, put scrappin’ stuff on one shelf~~
~~12. Make a grocery list for the supermarket and walmart~~
~~13. Empty garbages and take out the trash~~
~~14. Fill the birdfeeder outside and put out fresh water~~
~~15. Move all the lawn furniture and water the lawn~~
~~16. Put back the lawn furniture~~
~~17. Return the VSU phone~~
18. Mail textbook back to school

Ha! I have a feeling of accomplishment, and the house looks better! Between 12:30 and 2:15 I managed to get through the list (with one exception that will be cured later tonight!) and have a shower, get dressed and all that!

Now tomorrow, sleepin' in, coffee and a book on the couch... that makes a Sunday these days...

Sigh... and this is my life.

Saturday

2009-08-29T12:29:00.002-06:00

I lay here on the loveseat
beneath my laptop
fingers perched, ready, above the keys
my face, eyes squinting
reflected in the screen
and traffic hums by outside

I have a to-do list on the counter
I still haven't hit the shower
the dogs are barking outside
(bad dogs!)
and the bird's cage needs cleaning

I started this day with good intentions
to do more than nothing
but so far here I lay
sinking deeper into the couch
and nothing is winning

seasons change

2009-08-28T07:15:00.009-06:00

Every morning this week the fog has been so thick that it seems I should be able to touch it, brush it away with my hand. Out my window you would swear there should be an ocean harbour, boats rocking gently in early morning waters. All you'd really see is a lawn, beyond that a field, beyond that a road lined by a barbed wire fence, and beyond that farmland. The nearest water is treatment plant freshwater resevoir a few clicks north.

This morning when I walked up to the door at work, a flock of 62 geese (yes, I really counted them (not my photo btw, found it online) as I stood fixed in the parking lot) flew over my head, already headed south for the winter. If I remember rightly, they didn't even get here until June this year, a bit behind schedule, and somehow watching the beginning of their departure now, in August, leaves me feeling desolate, sad and lonely. The beauty of the sunrise (which usually makes me stop a second to pause and marvel) was lost on me this morning when I looked out the window from my bed. It was only a couple of weeks ago that I got to wake with sun on my face, as it tickled my chin like a cat, gently and playfully rousing me from dreams. Now, the sun is barely on the horizon when I wake, and in a couple of weeks it will be dark on my morning run to work, and then even as I sit at my desk and start my day. It seems strange to say, but I feel like I'm losing a friend to the darkness.

Seasons change, every year, it is inevitable I know this. Our winter is long here in the prairie, staying from about October or November through April or May, bringing with it the darkness, which hangs outside my windows while I wake up, and returns before it is time to go home at the end of the day. Spring comes for May and June, Summer is here for July and part of August, and then Fall for 2 months to take us back to 6-8 m.o.n.t.h.s of winter.

Before I had lived somewhere else, somewhere Spring comes in March, Summer stays until October, and Winter only starts to peek out around Christmas, I never put much thought into our seasons. Before I spent time in Florida, India, the Philippines and other incredible places in SE Asia and found an endless summer, I never went much beyond simply resenting the -40 temperatures and the days of plugging my car in. Now as the briefest summer in my recollection starts to pull up post for Fall, it seems as though my home sweet home has lost its sweetness, and I long for greener (and warmer) pastures.

I look out the window now and the fog has nearly lifted as the sun starts to rise, painting a soft pink line along the horizon in a pale blue early morning sky. The lawn starts to sparkle as the dew catches a bit of early morning light, and the wheat field across the road is standing blonde and lovely. While the beauty of the prairies is not totally lost on me, I think this morning I will spend my coffee time planning a vacation...

I Heart Summer

2009-08-27T08:07:00.007-06:00

I need to make a list of all the places that are eternally summer, and start planning how I am going to move there. I resent the fact right now that although we have had only 2 1/2 weeks of nice weather this year it is already dark when I wake up in the morning, and I already had to put an extra blanket on the bed. I mean, I know I live in Canada, but this is really just not cool. Some of our neighbourhood trees already have yellow leaves that fall down and surround the car every morning.

It's A-U-G-U-S-T!

Maybe I just need a new perspective on things, but Thailand sounds good, better and better in fact (and I never did get up to the northern areas)... or there's Peru, the Philippines, Fiji, Bali...

Ahhhhh, I see...

2009-08-25T08:01:00.001-06:00

cat sleeping across both feet...
white dog sleeping on left hip...
small brown dog sleeping on chest...
S. sleeping tucked around right leg and holding right arm and hand...

explains the dreams

My Attic Door

2009-08-18T15:29:00.001-06:00

for safekeeping
for I'll-think-about-it-later-because-I-can't-bear-another-minute-of-it-right-now
for careful, don't lose it this time,
for safe harbour
for out-of-sight-out-of-mind
I put things away
in the attic

last time I put the treasure away
wrapped round with a delicate purple scarf
nestled in with the tiny plastic dancer
latched tight in a small white box
at the bottom of a chest
in the room piled high with chests of treasure
where the dust settles to cover my footprints
as the door is closed
and locked behind me
but my attic door
never stays closed,
even when I'm sure
I locked it
the things put away
can be found in places
where I know
I did not leave them
that is if they can be found again
at all
like love...
last spring I put it away
somewhere safe
wrapped in that soft purple scarf
so it wouldn't get lost
so I could think about it
so I could keep it
and get back to it later
when things were different
or different-er
but I forgot just where I put it
to keep it safe

then I remembered the spot
and rushed back to reclaim it
but the wisps and tendrils had escaped
sneaked out through the cracks
leaving the locket
empty

perhaps I need to look
at getting
that old lock
fixed
clear out
some of
what's waiting for later
because time
really doesn't
matter

Only Questions...

2009-08-10T11:36:00.000-06:00

? How do you move forward when you part of you knows the answer to a question, part of you blinds itself to it, and you're too scared to act on it?

? What do you do when you've made changes to what you need and what you seek from a relationship so that you can live well enough within it, and then the other half of your relationship later wants to return to what it was before, or could have been, when you can't?

? What do you do when that happens too late, and in making those changes you let go of wanting, needing, or welcoming any of those connections?

? How do you keep on top of the aching sorrow and grief that threaten to smother you after your every half-hearted smile, every silent reply, every swallowed tear?

? How long do you drift along waiting to see if you feel differently, when you don't?

? How do you look in the eyes of the person you love, the eyes that scan and seek for any thread of hope in your own, without giving away the depths of grief and loneliness you harbour in your heart?

? When is listening to the gentle voice inside you that tells you "enough now, it's time" the courageous thing to do, rather than the cowardly thing to do?

? How do you say "there's nothing you can do, there's nothing you can say," to the one who is trying to do, and say, and be, everything?

The Drive

2009-07-24T07:54:00.005-06:00

3 years ago in a whirlwind I got married, to a woman (surprising everyone, including myself!) I fell in love with almost overnight. She was joyful, inspired, excited about life, and so happy to be with me. We both had our “stuff,” but we were great together. Just being with her made me feel wonderful, a bright star in the sky, and we spent every available second together. In a matter of a few short months, she became my best friend, my lover, my confidante, my partner in life. It seemed at first that there was nothing we couldn’t do, if we did it together. We dreamt of a future together, painting one another pictures of what it might look like, how things might go. We talked about the way we had personal natures that could cause us to part, to drift away from one another into another lane, to live our lives independently while seeming to be side by side, and how it would be a daily choice, independent and in love, to be together.

The longer we were together, the bumpier the road she travelled seemed to become, and I watched her drift to drive along the shoulder, and then off alone on small, dark, overgrown side roads that eventually led her back to the main road, a little worse for wear, sometimes exhausted and scared, but still driving. I felt like I could offer the occasional lift, help mend a flat tire here and there, give the odd hand-up, but for the most part it seemed that she had to deal with the bumps and side tracks herself. In the beginning when I got a flat, or my windows got to dirty to see through, she would be there to help fix it up, get me back on the road again. I counted on her to be there.

As time went on her detours became longer and a bit more frequent. Increasingly, there were times she was too busy working just to keep herself on the road, and she didn’t seem to notice that I was only limping along in the lane, my tires making that heavy flap flap-flap noise they make when they’re flat. After awhile I came to realize that I couldn’t just wait for her to get there to help me fix things. I could see that it took a lot of effort for her to keep her own self on the road, and I started to take care of those other things myself. I learned new ways to patch tires, different methods of keeping the windows cleaner, and the headlights pointed in the right direction. Later when she was back up and running and wanted to help I was happy to see her, but there were fewer and fewer times when I looked for her to help, happy just to drive along beside her when we were both on the same path at the same time.

At first when she wasn’t beside me, I found myself jumping the tiny meridian, wildly and desperately yanking her back from the shoulder when I thought she was too close to the edge, away from the scary roads that were overgrown and dark, back into the lane beside me. Over time I learned that she needed to pull away a bit, for awhile, needed to drift through the dark and damp shadows that lined the side roads, and felt myself drifting as well. When on my own I worried about her, saw her eyes bleaken the further she got from me as the shadows set in. I drifted in my own lane, closer, farther, closer, farther, experimenting with how I felt with more and less distance between us. I needed time and space for myself too. Sometimes I would be in sight when our roads reconnected, other times I was off drifting along my own side road, returning to our drive after a time, at least in part.

As we each drifted and jolted about in our own lanes, I noticed that our shoulders became further apart as each of our lanes widened, and the dividing meridian became wider and higher each time, accommodating the wandering, the distances that grew between us, protecting us from crashing into one another when our paths came back together again. Each time this happened, when she was back in sight of me, or I was back in sight of her, we would try to resume the drive as best we could. We talked about the time spent apart, what was learned, what was lost, what was discovered, and what was uncertain, trying to look together anew to a redefined future.

Sometimes I was angry that she had left me alone and hadn’t been there to help me. I was sad that she hadn’t let me in to help her make it easier, or asked for help somewhere else. I was resentful that I had to take care of our things on my own, and that I had to labour alone keep the meridian from becoming overgrown and the shoulders clear enough for us to reconnect through. I was disappointed that the things I had allowed myself to believe about our future weren’t coming to be, and I was brokenhearted to have to let them go. Once I allowed those feelings to pass, I took to planting flowers in the widening meridian, clipping the hedges that ran along the shoulders, distracting myself with making the drive more enjoyable when I was alone. I remembered that it wasn’t her job to make me happy, that was my job, and I needed to start doing it.

Upon each return she talked and talked and talked about all the construction she was going to do, all of the modifications she was going to make to tune up her engine. I was hopeful that when she made those changes she wasn’t going to need to take so many detours, or that they might be less dark, less might be stolen from her, from us, in those times we were apart. I was excited about seeing more of the woman I first married, and returning to being more of the woman I was when we were first married. After some time though, I came to see that though the construction and modifications were things of her deepest desire, her truest heart, they were not things she could reliably act on. Changes would begin to come through, she started to do some things differently, and I got excited each time: hopeful about the future, I allowed some of the old hopes and dreams we'd painted together to come back to me, believing one more time that maybe they could really come to be. Once the high emotions had calmed themselves in both of us again, it was never very long though before things would return to ‘normal’ once more. She had the biggest dreams about the person she wanted to become, the kinds of things she knew she had to do to be happy, but she didn’t have enough left after the detours, whatever else was needed for it, to do any of the real work to get there and stay there. . . she seemed only able to take the very first step, spending time with the thought of changes.

Each time we drifted in our lanes, while either of us detoured, I felt the light of love and togetherness dim a little bit more in my own heart. I stopped depending on her to be there for me as a partner in life, and redefined our relationship so that I could be happy enough with what she could offer, when she could offer it. My heart was not strong enough to withstand the detours and absences without attaching to it feelings of rejection, abandonment, loneliness, sadness, anger, and disappointment. I replied with my own passive aggressive reactions of the same, and then punished myself for it. It was better for me, if I wanted to stay together (which I did), that I change what I expected from the relationship, and work with what I knew was there. From that point onward, I lived with my best friend, who I still loved with all my heart, and I didn’t ask any of those “lover,” or “partner” things of her, or myself, any longer. She was my best friend, and I would take that to be enough.

Through that time, I felt my passion, my fire for our relationship, the dreams I had for our future fade – I let them dissolve, I let them go. Instead I lived for the togetherness, the companionship and friendship that our relationship provided, even when our paths diverged. Our drives together were usually so nice, and without the expectations I held before, I started to be happy again in the time we spent together. The meridian was beautifully flowered; butterflies and ladybugs were coming around, things felt pretty good for me, and I found the way to be happy, together.

The point came though, only weeks ago, when I realized that she wasn’t happy, if only because she told me. Friendship, companionship, wasn’t what she came back for. Though she tried to stay on the road with my new definition, her tires were making that flap-flap-flap noise that I recognized, and I finally understood: it wasn’t working, this redefinition, and it wasn’t just me.

Timing coincided that at this point that suddenly my love was to be off on her own adventure for a bit of time, and I had some time to be on my own. I found myself squealing my tires, splashing through puddles and letting the mud drip in gobs messily down my windows before wiping it off, spinning endless donuts in the sandpits with the dust flying up in thick gray clouds around me, before pealing off back into my lane again. I could see now that in the time we had both been trying to make it work, trying to get enough out of what the other was able to share, we had been dampening our own spirits, excitement and energy for life, and hope for the future. I had been expecting less out of life, and of course the universe had been happy to oblige. I felt like I had just driven out of a foggy haze that my eyes had become adjusted to over time, and though my heart held a heavy sadness, I was also elated, free, lighter. That I when I knew — it was time for me to head out on my own road again, to let my friend, my love, rebuild her own road.

I didn’t build up a story around why, as I did before; I didn’t try to reach a new level of understanding about where it went wrong or what was missing, as I did before; I didn’t try to find a ‘clear and concise explanation’ for problem and solution, as I did before; I just finally listened. Listened to the voice that had been whispering to me for awhile, to the knowing our bodies hold when we take the time to hear them - it was time, that path had been laid out in front of us, and I was not going to drive it any longer.

Now to throw a bit of a bigger curve into it... in the time my love was off on her adventure she did some of her own evaluation, and came to many of the same conclusions I had. However, she returned to our drive with renewed vigour for making the changes needed on the path to becoming the beautiful shining person she knew she was, and has thrown herself headlong into weeding and deconstructing the meridian between our lanes, and rebuilding the road we were once driving together toward the future. From where I drift, I see so many shades of the shining, excited, joyful woman I first met, participating in her life from all directions. She seems to really see the areas of her life that have been holding her back, and her desire to make life-altering changes is flaring out from within. Sadness and loneliness, grief and distance still lurk behind her eyes, largely I think because she can feel that I am no longer sharing the road with her, and somewhere, sometimes, she knows that for me it is too late. My best friend wants once again to be my partner, my lover, my wife, but that piece of me is no longer here.

“Where is my wife?” she seems to ask me, and I don’t know how to tell her, “she is already gone”. These reflections, I know, shine back at me to show me what she sees when she looks into me, and I am further aware that I am broken, I’m missing some parts, and it is time for me to put myself back together again, to make some repairs.

That daily choice we talked about when we first came together is in front of me each day, and these days I don’t make it for the same reasons I once did.

Today I stay because I feel badly for wanting something else, for wanting to leave, even though I am already gone.

I stay because I don’t know how to leave, but not because I want to stay.

I stay because I’m scared she will fall back onto those dark paths if I leave, and I wish her light, and happiness, and love... above all, life.

Ultimately, I have set my path, and I guess at this point I have also set hers. I hope, with all of my heart, that the changes she needs to make to feel happy, to love herself and the world again, are ones that she is ready to make. I hope that she is ready to build herself a beautiful road, lined with flowers and trees, with the beautiful and bright access roads that take her on scenic detours with new life-changing adventures whenever the fancy strikes her.

She is smart and funny, kind and courageous, beautiful and strong, devoted and passionate. The gifts she carries out into the world are many, and she hasn’t yet come to recognize that many of them shine within her, waiting to be shared.

Though happiness seems to have been a fair-weather friend in the past, it is obvious they have established a new relationship, and I have joy in my heart when I see it. The road we’ve shared has not been without its share of potholes, pit stops, accidents and flat tires, but it has, without a doubt, been beautiful. My life, my heart, and hers, will be forever altered, our life together a cherished gift that I will forever hold in my heart, without regret.

If only I knew what the next step should be, how to move forward from this place, what to do. Instead, here I sit, here I stay, for the wrong reasons.

Soul mates...

2009-07-05T12:14:00.001-06:00

"Your problem is you don't understand what that word means," says Richard from Texas.

"People think a soul mate is your perfect fit,
and that’s what everyone wants.

But a true soul mate is a mirror,
the person who shows you everything that’s holding you back,
the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.

A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet,
because they tear down your walls and smack you awake.

But to live with a soul mate forever?
Nah. Too painful.

Soul mates,

they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then they leave.
And thank God for it."

(Elizabeth Gilbert: Richard from Texas, Eat, Pray, Love)

Wow, the heartache that could be saved if we grew up thinking this way... Imagine how differently we might approach these wonder-makers when they came into our lives, if we thought this to be their purpose?

ADHD ( less the "H' ) - What, am I 10 years old again??

2009-03-01T13:42:00.008-07:00

How many of the things on this list are true of you often or very often (at home, socially, or at work)?

1• Frequenter of the Mood Swing
2• Have an inordinately large amount of things "to do" on the list
3• Create many "to do" lists, but rarely use them
4• Poor judge of time, often late
5• Chronic procrastinator
6• Trouble wrapping up final details of projects once challenging aspects are done
7• Difficulty finishing things you've started
8• Feel restless or fidgety
9• Problems remembering appointments and/or obligations
10• Distracted by noises around you
11• Delay/avoid tasks that require a lot of thought to get started
12• Misplace or have difficulty finding things at home or work
13• Very poorly organized
14• Make many careless mistakes working on boring or difficult projects
15• Fidget with hands/feet when sitting for long periods
16• Change jobs frequently
17• Find yourself talking too much in social situations
18• Difficulty waiting your turn in situations where turn-taking is required
19• Difficulty maintaining long-term friendships
20• Difficulty concentrating on what people say to you, even when they are speaking to you directly
21• Easily bored
22• Trouble managing money
23• When in a conversation, finish sentences of people you are talking to before they can finish them themselves
24• Difficulty unwinding or relaxing when you have time to yourself
25• Leave your seat in meetings or other situations you are expected to remain seated

For me, all but number #17 rank in the 'way up there' category of Never - Sometimes - Very Often scale. If asked, Lovely could tell you how often I misplace things (like right now, where the frick did I put my coffee cup?), and how chronic my procrastination is (I would win awards if I got the applications in on time). Probably most other things on the list could come into conversations about ways I drive her crazy (though she is a very patient woman!). During lunch she let me in on the fact that despite my thoughts that I didn't have trouble with #18, if a line is more than 3 or 4 people long, or if the wait is more than 10 or 15 minutes, I drag our butts out of whatever store we are in - even after an hour of grocery shopping (and she very patiently comes with me). So, it's just #17, I'm rather quiet/shy in social situations.

Now, this list is on tap for me because it has been suggested by someone 'in the know' that I should talk to my Dr. about Attention Deficit Disorder. She gave me a self-report symptom checklist and a couple of websites, and asked me to think about it. When she first suggested it, I was annoyed. I don't have ADD. I'm not hyper. I didn't get in trouble in school when I was a kid. I don't need meds. My brain is fine. I'm just disorganized and going crazy with mulitple deadlines. Then I started reading. Bastards! I might actually have ADD! I am not a hyper person, and news to me - Harvard Medical says that ADHD comes in a few different types that don't include being hyper. For girls and women, hyperactivity is not often exhibited with ADHD, that's a symptom that is generally found with boys and men, leading to an underdiagnosis of women and girls with ADHD.

ADHD - Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. ADD - Attention Deficit Disorder. Love that word, Disorder. Ugh. Well, I don't have an attention deficit all the time. Sometimes I'm hyperfocused to the point of ignoring all else (even if I'm not meant to be paying attention to it right now). Hyperactivity, not generally me either (though at the moment Lovely is in my head calling me a hummingbird, is this another lack of person insight on my part?). Sometimes I'm hyper to the point where I'll collapse if I don't sit down and stop what I'm doing. I have heaps of attention and focus for things I enjoy, sometimes to a scary and obsessive point - I can scrapbook for 3 days straight with only breaks for coffee, food, bathroom and naps; or I can read huge books in single sittings, even if it means 2 days on the couch. But try to get me to read a boring 5-page article for school, it takes me a day and I have to re-read it 10 times on the way through; start a conversation with me about something I'm not interested in, and you'll have lost me after the first minute (though I do try to pay attention!).

This is a cute little chart that I cound online, where they have taken the 5 types of ADHD and linked them to the characters from Winnie the Pooh. Apparently you can have one, or a combination or different types of ADHD.

So here I sit, in the midst of grad studies in Psychology; I spent 4 years of my undergrad studying psychology - don't you think I could have given myself a heads up or something? I can tell you when a kid would best be served by an ADHD assessment. Since when are there these hyperfocused and inattentive types? If 4% if adults have ADHD of some type, that's 1 in 25 - how many people actually know they have it? How come there's so little information in the current DSM (boils down to Diagnostic and Statistical Manual - the bible of things that go wrong with people's heads)? What will the new information in the 2012 version say about what we know now, and why didn't we know it before?

To avoid making myself crazy (crazier?) I am going to stop writing about it, and I'm going to go see the Dr. tomorrow, see if I can get a referral to someone who "knows" about these things (apparently your GP isn't the answer most times). I don't know though, mine (doctor) is pretty up on stuff, she's young, she seems smart and current, I'll see what she says. If I can get an appointment same day or next day I promise not to fret about it (there's that problem with my waiting my turn again, jeez, it really is me!). In the meantime, there's a whole internet full of information to sog my brain up with - so off I go to fulfill my need for immediate gratification!

It's Official

2009-02-27T19:32:00.011-07:00

I’m 31

& I’m

Officially

A Quitter

_________

Enough! I have decided that the Master’s program, despite my violent swings of opinion about its’ usefulness and practicality for use in the real world, is a necessity that I will not permit myself to abandon. I started it, it is a big deal, and I need to finish it. I know right down to my bones that I will forever regret it if I drop out of the program. If for no other reason, I do my best to avoid the situations that I am certain will end up in the Pile of Regrets. I have, however, for the sake of my sanity and that of the lovely S, decided to drop my awful health psychology option. I have hated it since the moment it started mid-January, and regretted not dropping it while there was no financial consequence. However, now, to make a long story short, I’m done with it. On the bright side, I did manage to get out of it before they assigned me a grade for the course, which means it won’t affect my GPA.

Hard to explain the sense of relief I feel at not having to deal with the course anymore. 2 more months of it would have been the death of me (or at least my enthusiasm for school!). I hated the chat board, I hated the way the assignments were weighted and assigned, and I hated that there was no assigned meeting time. I also hated the crazy workload for a course that didn’t even have an assigned meeting time! I won’t do another asynchronous (i.e. no lecture, no discussion, all chat boards, ugh) course option, and will I ever ward anyone who asks off of them as well! I will have to figure out what to take in its place as an elective, but those diploma level courses that I originally scoffed at are looking better and better.

I don’t always finish everything I started. I try not to quit just because it’s hard, but if a book is boring – I put it down! If a movie makes me want to poke my eyes out – I turn it off! If my food tastes bad, I stop eating it! I want to enjoy the things in life I choose to have and do. Now sometimes you do have to suck it up and get through the yuck, all for the better in the end. Sometimes I end up on the wrong path and my choices don’t lead to the best outcomes, so I change direction and see where things go. Sometimes those wrong turns end up leading to places where I have made the biggest changes, the coolest discoveries about myself and the world. So screwin’ up or packin’ it in doesn’t have to be the worst thing that happens, so long as we all just keep on movin’.

Memories and Feelings

2009-02-24T18:52:00.006-07:00

Today was my dad's birthday. Was? Is? I don't know. When he was alive, this was his birthday.

For most girls, their first love is their dad. It was true for me. I remember when I used to be daddy's girl. It was daddy that I wanted to come downstairs and tuck me in at night. Daddy I wanted to show all of my silly drawings, and read all of my stories to. It was daddy who would toss me up to the sky and catch me while I giggled wildly. I curled up with daddy on the couch with to watch cartoons, with his big arms wrapped around me keeping me safe and warm. In grade 3 when I got 2 fingers caught in the fire doors at school, it was daddy that I screamed blue murder for the nurse to call to come and get me. He was this great big man with a giant laugh, happy smile, and endless energy... at least for the time that I was of the age to be in bed by 7 o’clock.

Of course, a daughter's hero-worship of her father eventually has to come to and end. As I got older I noticed other things. I remember falling to sleep listening to my parents yelling and screaming at one another in a fight, almost always about money. Dad yelling, saying horrible mean things to my mom, Mom screaming and crying. Their fights got physical, at least on dad's end. I have a memory of waking up hearing my parents fighting one night when I had to have been about 4, creeping upstairs and falling asleep on the landing, just out of sight of the living room where they were fighting. I don't know what they would have thought as they carried me back down to my bed later, but it turned out that he was no hero.

Dad drank, and he was abusive when he drank. He was impatient at all times, and had an incredibly low tolerance for his kids. I worked hard to stay off his radar. I always used my manners; I was an A+ student, never in trouble at school or otherwise. He loved picking on my little brother and my mother, whether or not there was a reason. I was his darling, and he didn't seem to focus his horribleness on me until I was about in sixth grade. I don't remember what I did to set him off, but one weekend afternoon when he had been drinking he slapped me hard across the face. I remember my feelings of shock, anger, disappointment, and embarrassment, my face stinging, as my mother and brother looked on. My kneejerk reaction was to scream and shove him, and he happened to be standing at the top of a half-flight of stairs. He didn't ever hit me again, but that was the end of daddy's little girl.

Dad died in the Fall of ’07 from a combination of pancreatic and liver cancer, a prize that came about after his years of alcohol abuse. I abandoned S and our plans for travel and exploration, and returned to Canada August 21st because the doctor said he only had 6-8 weeks to live - turned out he had 4. We didn’t really talk, other than the random chit-chat that strangers make. We were civil, strangers, visiting one another, listening to the birds, sitting in the early morning sun on the deck. I was there for my mom, not for him I guess – it felt weird. I cooked meals for them until he was hospitalized, set up his medications, helped him get to/from the bathroom, picked him up and cleaned him off when he fell, helped him have his baths, got the details of what he wanted for his funeral/service etc., the kind of things a caring daughter would do. I did them out of obligation, not out of love. With the state mom was in, and my brother's denial of any problems, I was the only one there who would be able to help, so I helped. I did the same at the hospital, took on half of the nursing duties, taking shifts at his bedside overnight so my mom and brother could go home and sleep. It was odd being there while he died. I felt detached, separate, and clinical. I didn't cry when he finally let go.

Since he died I continue to have mixed feelings. Mostly when I do think about it, I ricochet back and forth between indifference and anger, between “I don’t really care,” and “fuck, he was such an asshole!” Some moments I forget that it even happened, and it comes back to me without emotional attachment; it’s just a fact, an event that happened in my life. Other moments I’m mad that he was such a mean, spiteful, selfish man. I don’t miss him, though I do have regrets. I don’t have regrets for how I behaved in our relationship – I was the one who had to act like an adult all the time; I regret the kind of person he insisted on being with me, when he was someone so totally different with his friends. I’m mad that I didn’t get to have the kind of relationship I would have liked with my father. I get angry that he refused to accept me for who I am – doesn’t a daughter deserve that from her father? I’m angry that he was judgmental and closed-minded toward me and the choices I made in life – this from a man who was an abusive alcoholic when home with his family!

If I could have had anything, I wish I could have had more of that magical time back from when my Dad was my hero. I wish that as an adult I could have known the man his friends got to know - the open, caring, funny, loving, generous, kind, thoughtful , positive, helpful, energetic and fun one. I wish he had shared that side of himself with me, and I wonder frequently why I never got to share in that part of him, why he never acted that part with me.

If you take anything away from this history revisited, please take this... While you’re out there living your life, share your best with everyone, even the people who love you because they "have to". Be your shining and glorious self with everyone. Whether you know it or not, they will be glad, and they will be better people because of it. Happy birthday, dad.

Love and Satisfaction

2009-02-24T11:40:00.004-07:00

In my flurry of inactivity last night I turned on the television and watched an episode of House. I was scribbling away in my journal at the time, winding down for bed while S was already off to work a night shift. In my journal I was continuing my attempts to unravel the roots of my educational crisis. In the middle of the episode, the conversation between a terminally ill patient and his young female doctor went something like this:

Patient: Do you like your job?
Doctor: Yes, I do. I love my job.
Patient: Really? You seem more of an, "I find it extremely satisfying," kind of person.
Doctor: It is satisfying, very satisfying.
Patient: Yes, but love is "love". Satisfying is "social validation - love can wait."

Since I was already sunken into thoughts of school, this conversation sidled in through the open door. Am I in school because I think I'm going to love the job? Or am I in school because I think the job at the end of it will be extremely satisfying?

One of the things I really work on changing about myself is my own craving for that social validation. If you asked me, I would tell you that I don't care what other people think, but in my truest of hearts, it's a lie. I like that when I tell people "I'm in the middle of grad school", I get oohs, and ahhs, and 'wow, that must be really hard's from people I talk to, especially when they find out that I'm working full time at the same time. The goal itself seems more worth the work because other people recognize it to be important. I like that it makes my mom proud to tell people what I'm up to, and that she takes pride in my reachings. Ugh, I am still that little girl who needs the pat on the head and the, "good job, honey!" from her mommy, or the star on the board from the teacher!

With that thought newly in my head, that my real reason for finally going to grad school could be to get the social validation that goes with it, I wanted to throw my laptop out into the snowbank and run off to Mexico to become a starfish. I am an educated, confident, independent woman. Surely I wouldn't have made this big of a decision, this big of a committment of time and money, in order to get approval, to get social validation... would I?

As we grow and change, our goals and values also change. I no longer want to be a ballet dancer, a marine biologist, a fireman, a doctor, a vet, or a lawyer. But psychologist, now that one has hung on. All of my image makers, the people who you listen to growing up when they tell you how they see you in the future, saw me as a counselor, a helper, a psychologist. I have been on the road to my master's, with all of its' twists and turns, since high school. I'm sure my yearbook says something about my becoming a psychologist. It's what I've "always" wanted to do. My 14-year old self embraced that idea with her whole heart, perhaps in a way that I haven't done since.

So here I am: tank full of gas, driving down that road, my destination finally beginning to arise on the horizon. That nagging feeling that I should look up from the road, look around, is finally sinking into my thoughts. My biggest suspicion is that if I check out my reflection in the rearview mirror, my 14 year old self is still driving the car, looking for that feeling of satisfaction, as yet unaware of the magic in the possiblities of love.

Your network cable is unplugged

2009-02-23T11:49:00.002-07:00

Do we all live in a state of disconnect, or is it just me? At some point we decide that we want something, and we make choices that head us in that direction. Then, we suddenly turn into goldfish, no memory of where we just came from or where we were headed. At least this has been my experience. Lately, I find myself walking down these paths that I began with good intentions, and I have no idea why I'm still on them, or where I thought I was headed when I began. While I find myself pondering many paths in my life, I'm currently lost and aimless on my way down the road to grad school.

Grad school is an important decision, right? People respect the educational endeavor of graduate studies. Everybody is excited for me. I was excited for me, on my way to becoming part of a respected profession, becoming a psychologist. It means something – people care about what kind of education you have. It’s something I can always remember wanting to do (at least since high school anyway). I have looked at lots of programs over the years, but mostly thought myself destined to a job helping people somehow. Counseling and social work programs are always what I looked into, and different areas of psychology. I was accepted into each program I applied for (3 in the U.S., and one here), but for different reasons didn't go right away. While S and I were still in Korea, I found the local online program for school psychology. I didn't know very much about the job itself, but didn't think I needed much extra information: psychology, in a school - what more do you need, right?

I applied and was accepted, my first semester started in May '08. When I applied to the course, I didn't have a plan for how I was going to pay tuition (almost $1,000 per month). I didn't know that tuition is almost triple that of what on-campus students pay. I didn't know at the time that school psychologists do psychological testing on children that they don't know, they only see during testing sessions, and they have to produce a 'code' in the final paragraph of the report at the end of it to keep the school board happy – not necessarily to help the child do better in school, just to get the school their allotted funding, based on the child’s diagnosis. Now I'm in the final term of my first year. I have 10 more courses that run $1,150 each, and one year of a practicum that is also going to cost me $1,150 per term (for nothing back from the university), and I have NO IDEA WHY I'm still in the program. If I work as a psychologist for the health region, (a "good" paying government job), do you know that I will only make $6-$8 extra per hour than I do right now, but I have to spend nearly 20K to do it?! So why do I continue?

I'm frustrated with the program, and don't feel like I'm learning anything that's going to be useful professionally. I’m annoyed that the only measurement is through papers, which I hate writing. It's expensive, and takes up my free time, and all of my available money. I'm working as a psychometrist, actually doing the testing that I'm training to do in my graduate program - and getting paid for it already. I can’t have the qualification title of psychologist without finishing my degree, but right now I’m not even sure I want it! I started something important, and I should finish it - you just don't change your mind and quit these things half-way through.

I’m having some kind of educational meltdown. Is it just a tantrum? Is it just because I don’t want to do the work of the courses I’m in now? Am I upset about a bad grade? How do I get back on my path, or make the right path clearer? How do I get back in touch with what I was really going for, my original goal? Should I take some time off, an educational leave for awhile until I figure things out? Off to bury my head in a snow drift for a bit - maybe that will help.

My Very Own Bucket List

2009-02-15T09:53:00.020-07:00

I saw a friend's post on facebook today, and it asked for a return of her post which was entitled "Bucket List". I started to respond to it (copy and paste it on my own note page, checking off which things applied to me), but then I stopped. The list was really not full of things that mattered to the friend who posted it, just to the original creator (if even to that person?). It was full of things that didn't really matter to me either. For example, going ice fishing isn't something I want to do, nor is going to an NFL game. So why the heck would I repost it on my page - to see which one of us had checked off more things??

I have done some things and been some places that I would have liked to have on my bucket list (but have already finished them, so wouldn't put them on). I have learned to scuba dive; competed (and won!) in a choir and as a soloist; held a tiger cub; ate seafood just out of the ocean; visited to the Great Wall; taught indoor rock climbing; had Chinese food in China, Thai in Thailand, and Indian in India; volunteered in a cancer hospital; fell in love and got married; have seen Angkor Wat; have gone scuba diving in Thailand and the Philippines; climbed a (small) mountain; swam in the ocean; climbed through underground tunnels used in the Vietnam war; visited the Terra Cotta Warriors while they were on display in Daejeon; gone sky diving; been on a jet boat, a ferry, and a catamaran; got a tattoo; swam with dolphins; visited North Korea before they closed it to the public; taken a canoe trip through a rainforest; rode an elephant; went scuba diving with (well-fed) sharks and sea turtles; ate an orange right off the tree; gone to the waterslides; been in a helicopter; tried ice climbing (yuck!); had a picnic outside; played in a waterfall; went horseback riding; been to a vineyard (in California); been to Disneyland (US and Japan); rode a jet-ski; visited the Taj Mahal; worked and volunteered helping children in trouble; taken an around-the-world trip; sponsored an international child; sang karaoke with a group of friends; done home renovations; have driven across Canada, across the northern US, and North-South Alberta to Arizona in the US; rode in a tuktuk/rikshaw; had clothing tailored for me in Vietnam; been on 3 different continents... I'll add to this list when I think to, to remind myself that I have done a lot of cool things already in life...

It did get me thinking though, that there are a zillion different things I would like to do in this lifetime, and maybe now's a good time to start writing them down somewhere! My wife, S, has a Bucket List of sorts. I think it began as a list of a hundred things she wanted to accomplish. Her rule is that she has to cross off 5 things per year, and add 10 - her list will be ever expanding, and she will always have things to reach for. I'm going to follow her lead, and see if I can (eek!) come up with a hundred things to start with, without consulting the web or looking in books... my own ideas for the first 100. So here we go...

My Very Own Bucket List
To grow by 10 each year, and shrink by *at least* 5

As I complete things on the list I will change their color, and add the date!

Finish my master's degree
Become fluent in Korean
See something from at least 6 of the 7 continents (antarctica, not sure!)
Creat a list of 100 books I would like to read
Learn piano
Learn functional Spanish
Enter a 5km race and finish it
Enter a 10km race and finish it
Make myself a nice dress
Plant a garden of wildflowers (June '09)
Take a yoga class and finish it
Experience Bikram yoga to see if I like it
Learn to make 3 Korean dishes well
Creat a list of one hundred places I'd like to visit
Be certified as an Advanced Open Water Diver
Be certified as a Divemaster
Take the 4-week course in Thailand to finish diving certification to become an Instructor/Course Director
Dive the Great Barrier Reef
Have a baby, become a mamma
Start a diveshop with an attached coffee/sandwich shop somewhere hot and beautiful
Go on a temple stay to a Buddhist Temple
Learn how to fly a plane
Learn how to sail
Ride a camel in the desert
Kayak into a cave to explore
Dive a shipwreck
See a big angelfish in the wilds
Lounge on a beach along the mediterranean
Make a trek through a desert
Exercise regularly (3 times per week) as a habit
Grow a vegetable garden (June '09)
Skate in Central Park
Live in India
Go to Mardi Gras
Visit an old section of the Great Wall, and hike along it
Spend a 3-day pass exploring Angkor Wat in SiemReap
Scuba dive somewhere in Canada
Spend the day at a spa luxuriating in spa treatments
Take a sketching class
Take a digital photography course
See the terra cotta warriors in China
Explore the pyramids and the sphinx in Egypt
Learn to surf
Take S to a WorldCup soccer game
Go to Machu Picchu
Study a martial art (for at least 6 months)
Ride a motorcycle in Vietnam
Go cliff diving
Keep a travel journal
Learn how to bellydance
Take a hot-air balloon ride
Learn to play badduk
Camp in a country other than Canada or the US
Go horseback riding in the mountains
See the Grand Canyon, take a horseback ride through it if possible
Carve something nice out of wood
Take my mom on a vacation somewhere
Go on a multi-day kayaking trip somewhere beautiful
Visit a floating village
See a cave of crystal
Keep a journal going for one year (electronic or paper)
Design and make a piece of jewelery
Take a wilderness survival course
Order lunch from a floating market vendor
Learn how to paint with watercolors
Consult a medicine person or traditional healer
Ride in a horse-drawn carriage
Go parasailing
Go spelunking
Teach scuba diving
Take a cruise somewhere (maybe when I'm old!) :)
Learn to be a decent chess player
Visit a tribe of people somewhere who still live traditionally
Learn to make paper with flowers
Visit the ruins of a famous Greek/Roman temple
Learn to ballroom dance and perform in front of people
Take a gondola in Venice
Go on a photo safari on a wildlife preserve in Africa somewhere
Participate in an active (i.e. real) archaeological dig
Go to Carnival in Brazil
Live in Italy
See an otter playing in the wild
Build a birdfeeder that birds actually use
Take some great photos underwater
Go rafting (whitewater or not)
Live on an island somewhere
Volunteer in a country other than Canada
Climb to the top of a "famous" mountain
Become a "Dr." of something (psychology? counseling? teaching? photography?)
Learn a song in a foreign language
Grow my own roses
Maintain my blog on a regular basis
Host a dinner party for friends
Get a henna design done on my hand or foot in India
Sell some of my hand-made cards
Live somewhere in Africa
Visit a volcano
Go on a bicycle tour
Try snowboarding
Go to the coliseum in Rome
(2009 List)

Ok, I did it, all by myself (harder than it might look!). So there, is my list. My head is still crawling with ideas - I need to make my lists of places to go now, and I'll start thinking about books I would like to read! Now though, I am going to go clean up the kitchen and listen to some music. Have a beautiful day!

25 Random Things About Me!

2009-02-07T10:11:00.017-07:00

1. I LOVE garlic - I think almost everything (except maybe chocolate, toothpaste, and coffee!) should have garlic in it.

2. I HATE winter, and being cold.

3. My hair has been some version of a different color every 6 weeks for the past 16 years

4. I am studying the Korean language with Rosetta Stone.

5. Piles of dog hair that drift into the corners totally gross me out. Totally, as in "makes me gag," bile in the throat, the whole thing.

6. Scrapbooking/making cards, and singing make my heart happy.

7. If I could quit my job tomorrow and do anything I want, I would sell/give away everything just to travel, and experience living other coutries.

8. I've been engaged twice, married once, and still wish I were single sometimes.

9. Pyjamas are my favorite clothes - they're unnecessary for sleeping, but I love wearing them around the house!

10. I love Canada, but I think living here requires an unequal exchange of work/play; there are places in the world where you don't have work so hard/so long to have a good life. I feel claustrophobic and trapped living in Canada.

11. Though I am in the middle of my master's, I am not sure it's what I want to do with my life.

12. I love the little brown dog the most.

13. I think everyone should be forced to travel for at least a month away from home, to any country unlike their own, so they have an expanded sense of what the world and the people in it are really like.

14. I love to lay in the sun on spongy soft luxurious grass in the summer.

15. I can (and sometimes do!) listen to Jack Johnson for hours and hours in a row - and I know all the words!

16. Korean food is heavenly.

17. 2 of our dogs (who moved here with us from Korea) have more airmiles than most of our family!

18. I have no desire to buy a house and have a mortgage. I get the economics of it, but I don't want anything to do with it.

19. I love camping trips with friends.

20. The best fruit in the world is fresh (or canned!) BC cherries.

21. I have lived at more than 30 different addresses in the past 10 years.

22. I love my friends more than I'll ever be able to make them understand (new and old ones), but suck at keeping in touch.

23. I often judge a country by its' food.

24. Running is fun, and makes me feel great - when I can get out and do it!

25. I dream of opening a 5* dive shop on a beach in a beautiful, hot country... I'll teach all levels of scuba, run tours to nearby islands, and have a side-bar coffee/sandwich shop; at the same time I will consult a few times a week for kids in the local expat educational community.

Time ticks by

2009-01-30T07:53:00.004-07:00

I have lots of time in my day - hours even! So why is it, that when I sit down to do something (like my readings for school), I can't find 5 minutes to put any effort into it? It is Friday today, and all week I have been meaning to get to studying, reading, posting on our class discussion board, and I haven't put a single iota of effort into it, even once. My courses are interesting, I don't particularly object to the subject I'm studying, but sitting down to read and study has been feeling impossible. As if my books and I were each magnets of the same polarity, refusing to sit next to one another and get anything accomplished. When things are due the next day (or at midnight!) you can find uber-focused me, diligently completing my assignments all at once - and my average is fine!! But trying to do things more sanely, preparing ahead of time and all of that organized nonsense, I can't even seem to devote a simple hour during my day.

The most frustrating part is that it isn't as though I have more pressing things to do - I sit down at the computer, and then surf mindlessly for hours, when just ONE of those hours would have made my school life more manageable if I had done some reading. I sit down at the table with my books, open them up to a good starting place, open my notebook, set out my pen/highlighter, and when I'm all set - I go do the dishes, or clean the bathroom, or make the bed - and I hate housework!!!!

What is this fight? This resistance? Why will I not just sit down and get it done? And since we're into the whys - WHY can't I seem to SLEEP anymore? I slept for 8 1/2 hours last night, and instead I woke in the morning feeling like I had just gotten to bed, and surely it was only 2am, and not 20 after 6... Alas, it was 20 after 6, and time to get up and start the day. I looked in the mirror, and almost shut the lights off and went back to bed after seeing the size of the bags under my eyes - unbelievable; especially after going to sleep at 10pm last night. Methinks that perhaps the cat needs to be barred from the bedroom, if only even temporarily; I remember waking up several times to her adjusting her position as she perched daintily on top of me during the night. She will strongly object to her exile, but I think it's necessary - one thing to try anyway, see if I sleep any better...

So this morning I am tired, a bit grumpy, and frustrated. My eyes are burning while I look at the screen, and my mind is sluggish. Maybe once I've had a cup of coffee and started my work day I will have a different outlook on the day. I aim to, anyway...

August Update

2008-08-13T22:08:00.003-06:00

August 13, 2008 (From the old blog)

An update on where things are... Dad died last September, the 20th (which is of course the same day as Sadie's birthday, perfect)... I moved back to Calgary mid-October after spending an extra couple of weeks with my Mom; she and my brother really had a rough transition after Dad died. The memorial service was nice, fire and pizza and beer in the backyard, just what dad wanted. I'm sad he died, but accept that death is a part of life, so I don't dwell. I am happy to have my life to live.
Calgary was okay, but it just didn't fit any more. I was resentful for awhile to have been back home again, as I still wanted so much to be in Korea. Some days I still wish I was there, but most days I'm happy to be home and moving on with life. Living in Korea kind of meant that life was on pause... all things in the "real" world (back here in Canada) stay where there were mostly, and nothing moves until you come back. I had a hard time finding work when I came home, despite the fact that everyone was supposedly screaming for staff... overqualified, was the message I kept getting. Just because I workED management doesn't mean I want to do it anymore, but I had a really hard time getting into anything frontline. I tried a few part-time and short-term jobs, but nothing really stuck. I worked (ugh) retail, worked as someone's admin assistant (not something I should do with my life!), and then drove a CAT740 rock truck - awesome fun, driving around in those big trucks is like playing a video game all day. However, it also meant 28 days with no time off, 12 hour days, no time for anything but work. I enjoyed it while it lasted though!

In May grad school started. I didn't think it would be too much work, but I wasn't really sure what to anticipate. I have had all sorts of feelings about the program so far, but for the most part I've been really happy with it. It is a lot of work... Sadie complains about how little time we have to spend time together (my butt is normally in a chair with a laptop in my lap), but thanksfully she's patient. The courses have been really interesting so far, and though sometimes it feels overwhelming, I really am learning a lot. The self-discovery methods that they use drive me crazy sometimes (i.e. figure it out for yourself teaching), but I'm blown away by the amount a person learns that way! So overall, I'm happy with it. While I was driving truck I was working a 60-80 hour week and doing 2 spring intensive courses (where they squish a full course into 6 weeks). THAT was NUTS. I'm not planning on doing that again, what a time that was!!

Now, Sadie and I have moved to a small town, where the pace of life is slower, people smile a lot more, and I can hear the birds out my window all day while I'm studying. She is working at the hospital, and seems to have finally found a job that she loves and is great at, because she comes home sparkly and happy at the end of the day. It really makes me happy to see her find something she's great at that makes her happy; she was loving teaching in Korea and decided to come home instead of waiting her contract out, so I'm glad there's something extra for her here too! We have a great little 3-bedroom house (that we're renting); we moved out of a basement suite in Calgary, and I have just one word: WINDOWS!!! What a difference in quality of life, just to have the sun shining into our home!

Out pets are up in number again, and we are soon going to have to apply for an animal farm license! We have Sadie's cat Lotus, who has now been to Korea and back again; Nimma and Maggie, a maltese and mini yorkie who joined our family while we were in Korea and came home with us; Mila and Molly, the kittens I got from my brother's place when I first got back; Leroy - the kitten we rescued from beneath mom's neighbour's deck (he fit in the palm of my hand, and had no interest in being rescued, but after 2 days of warm milk and the fireplace mat we had him convinced!), and Neera - latest addition to the family, rescued from the Millet Animal Rescue Centre, she's an Australian Shephard/Heeler cross, and she's lovely! Like I said, soon we'll need a farm permit!

I just had a job interview at the hospital last week to work as a Psychology Assistant, and I think it's something I'm really going to love doing. I'm still waiting to hear back from them, hoepfully it will be today. My courses finish up this term on the 18th, and I'll have until the 8th of September before they start again (2 weeks off, WOOHOO!!!!), thank god! I'll go up and visit mom during that time, see how things are going up there.

Today is an exciting day - our first Godson, whose name is Nattan, is being born today!! His mamma is booked for a C-Section, he decided he was going to jump out feet-first, and the doctors didn't agree it would be a good idea, so here we are! It was scheduled for 11 this morning at the PLC in Calgary, but I know they weren't even in by 10:15, so it likely wasn't until later. I am *so* exicted to go down and see him, we are going to leave as soon as Sadie gets home from work. And, to top it off, we're going to bring Aidan back with us until the weekend when his mamma and the new baby are out of the hospital, which is also going to be wonderful, woohooo!

So all in all, things have been going well. I have 4 papers to write in the next 5 days, must go.

The Day the Music Died

2007-09-20T22:02:00.001-06:00

For all of you who have been in touch with me and my family over the past few weeks since my return from Korea... thank you for your love, support and prayers. They have helped us and comforted us, especially in some of the more difficult hours.

My Dad died this morning, September 20th, at about 2:15am. He passed on peacefully surrounded by his family. A service is still being planned for family and close friends. I will let you know more when things are settled. His care at the Boyle Hospital has been exceptional. The nursing staff were wonderful, and really helped Dad stay comfortable, and made us all "at home" in a very difficult time.

I will be in touch more again 1:1 when I am done dealing with some of the planning "realities" of the situation. Thank you again for all of the love and support you sent our way.

In peace, Shauna.

June of this year, just 3 months ago

Mom and Dad, goofing around (other picture with little D)
(she's pointing to his terrible socks)

We'll miss you Dad.

As dad wanted, we will have a small private family service. Following that, a celebration of dad's life will be held at Featherstone RV park, 2 miles east of Boyle on Hwy 663, at 7pm on Saturday evening. All of dad's friends and family are invited to attend.

He told me "I want there to be a big party, and it'll be 'on me'". See you there.

Peace, Love, Patience and Fluidity with the Universe - The Last for Now

2007-09-10T21:14:00.000-06:00

Dad really declined within that first week. The first 2 or 3 days were good, and then there seemed to be a daily decline. Suddenly he needed a chair in the shower; a cane; a walker; He practically stopped eating, and stubbornly refused to go to bed in his bed (instead of the recliner or the sofa), or to have someone else take over his medications, despite missed doses and the errors he was making.

Our family arrived starting on the Monday of the long weekend (Dad’s brothers and sister and their spouses, and his mom), and it was really nice to have them here. More laughter and food and conversation, we hadn’t seen most of them in years, some of them almost 10 years! I think it has been hard on dad, as he’s up a bit later, doing weird things with his meds because he’s trying to stay awake, and he’s not used to the level of activity. Despite that, I know that he is so so so so glad that they all came to visit and spend time with him and mom. It has been so good for her to have someone to talk to, since she is trying to be strong in front of me, for whatever reason. It’s been so hard on her, and it seems like every time she shows some kind of emotion, she feels like she is being weak, and I can’t seem to change her mind.

I haven’t cried a lot. I’m sad, but there’s work that needs to be done, things that need to be taken care of, and that’s what I came home for, so that’s what I’m doing. Maybe sooner or later it will come crashing down around me, but I feel alright so far… it’s oddly, strangely just happening, and needs to be dealt with. I don’t feel the need to scream and cry, or fight, or do much more than whatever is within my superhuman means to make it better or easier for my parents.

Today is a rough day, for lots of reasons… it’s a rough day for dad, he doesn’t have his strength, he doesn’t want to eat, and he really hasn’t woken up enough to have a real conversation at all yet through the day (and it’s almost bedtime now). I’ve taken over his medications (against his wishes), and put them into the “daily” containers, so we know that if he isn’t doing well it’s not because he’s gotten mixed up and taken too many sleeping pills or something. It’s going to be tough, making the call for when he needs to go into the hospital, but I have limits, I know that. I can’t do it all.

Despite my strength of heart, I know that I can’t be everything, or do everything that’s needed for him to get better. But I can do a lot. I would never be a home care aide, and to anyone out there that is one, I salute you, because I am *surely* not built for it. Like I said, if it weren’t my dad, I wouldn’t be doing any of it. Ultimately, the decision is up to mom, she’s the one that’s going to have to make the call, but when it's time I will walk her into the decision if she needs me to. As far as I believe, as long as he’s able (and willing!) to eat, can sleep, move about the house with his walker, and get to the bathroom on his own, he’s fine to be here in the house. If he can’t do those things we can’t really be enough on our own and he will have to go to the hospital. That's what I say now anyway...

Dad's appointment with the oncologist at the CCI isn’t until the 18th, that’s a week from next Tuesday, forever. I'm beginning to wonder if he wasn't triaged to the top of the list because his cancer is too bad. He is declining so quickly, I don't know if there's really anything that can be done. The doctor here isn't very helpful and he has the bedside manner of a wet sock, so I don't count on him for much. By the 18th I don’t know if Dad will still be home, or if he will be in a hospital somewhere. I’m dreading the day that comes.
Hadn’t saw this one coming. Wasn’t ready. My dad is only 56 years old. He just retired in June, built a campground with my brother, worked hard, dreamed big every day, loved his family.

Sucks.
Shitty.
It really.
Sucks.
It’s really.
Shitty.

I’m praying every day, for peace, for love, for patience, for strength and for fluidity with the universe. Every day. I am grateful for the prayers and well wishes sent in our direction, and every email and letter I get is another good thing I see in the world. As for me, I, continue to pray.

Peace, Love, Patience and Fluidity with the Universe - Part III

2007-09-10T10:16:00.000-06:00

Now I have been home for 2 weeks. The flight back on Air Canada was terrible (Tara was right, I should have co-signed her angry letter to the company!), but it passed quickly. I arrived in Vancouver with barely enough time to get through the million-people customs line, and sprint across the airport to the ‘Local’ departures area (stopping only to buy a watch so I could stop looking for airport clocks!). I made the connecting flight easily, and arrived in Edmonton only 25 minutes delayed, which I hear is pretty good these days, for Canadian flights anyway. My “little” brother (who has grown into a pretty exceptional man, and is now married with 3 incredible little ones and a wonderful wife) picked me up at the airport, fidgety and anxious to get back home. We waited awkwardly for my bags to come off the plane, and it seemed to take hours, though my 2 were in the first 10 that slid around. He didn’t handle the news of dad’s illness well, or easily. He and my dad had become best friends in the past few years, doing everything together from quadding and camping to working and renovating, and I can’t even imagine the pain that he was feeling at watching our father get sicker and sicker, but it showed on his face.

The 2 hour drive back in excruciatingly slow seconds which we passed making strange small talk, mini-updates about how things had been at home, how dad looked, how mom was doing, but nothing definite or deep. A quick phone call from mom had us turned around on a 15-minute detour picking up a couple of “ice-caps” from the Ft. Saskatchewan Timmy’s, because they decided they might both enjoy one, and Boyle doesn’t have anything like it. We arrived in Boyle, and of course for me, I felt like I had never left.

Gave Mom a hug when I walked up the steps, she was of course outside the second she heard the truck, and cried when I hugged her, and told me that she was so glad I was home. She said that dad had waited up for our arrival, so I went into the house to say hello. Greg zipped off home as he had to work the next day. I went in the house prepared for the worst when I saw dad, but I was surprised, and not as upset as I thought I might be. He was yellow, and Mom had warned me about the jaundice, so it wasn’t surprising, though I remember thinking “wow, that’s an interesting color, he looks a bit like he should be in some strange movie”! He was thinner, but his voice was normal, he boomed out a hello to me, and stood up to greet me. His eyes, though the yellow color of jaundice, had some spark in them, and he stood up to give me a hug when I came in. After that he was quiet, but that’s nothing new for my dad, I’ve always thought him quiet, at least around me. He was a bit chatty, he stayed up for a couple of hours after my arrival home, watching TV, and making light conversation. He walked around on his own, grabbed a drink or something to eat when he wanted it, and was a *LOT* better than I had ever dared to hope.

For the next 3 or 4 days, he was alright, kinda the same. We talked about his funerary plans, what I would have to help my mom with, what I might have to take care of if she couldn’t handle it. We ate together, watched TV together, hung out together. I was glad to be home, and I found that none of the anger or anxiety that had bugged me for the week previous had come with me once my plane landed in Edmonton.

Within the first week, I started to see the decline. First, about 3 days after arriving, he got the hiccups… they stayed for about 5 or 6 days straight, without ANY kind of a break. He even hiccupped in his sleep!! (but at least he could mostly sleep through them). The doctor said that it was because the cancer was forcing pressure onto his diaphragm, resulting in hiccups. His pain medication was “upped”, changing to Oxycontin because the other one wasn’t working. His sleep medication changed to Clanazopam (whatever the spelling), as he hadn’t been sleeping well in the past couple of days. Then of course his eating slowed down. Suddenly, he really wasn’t much interested in eating, where before he at least tried to eat a little. His referral was in at the Cross Cancer Institute, but when I called them, they told me it would be a week until his referral was reviewed after being triaged, and it would be between 2 and 6 weeks before he would see an oncologist. When she told me, I remember saying “Are you kidding!? Do you mean to say that it might be 2 months before he even sees a specialist!!? The Dr. only gave him 3-6 months! (There was that helpful old anger back again). She tried her best to explain their triage system, which I supposed made sense, and I took a deep breath (or ten). Okay. Not. Helpful. Next.

I drove to the CCI to get some information about the cancer, as we didn’t really know much, but there wasn’t much they could give me that would be as useful as seeing the Dr., so it turned out to be a bit of a waste. Dad’s best friend Brian visited for a day and a half on his way home to his family in Legal from Syncrude; He helped cut some baseboards with the meiter saw (which I now know how to use!) and sat on the balcony visiting with dad, who was almost himself for the day!! I stayed up talking with Brian about how difficult it had been, he had to explain to everyone at work that needed to be told, and had the constant reminder of dad’s absence since they used to work side by side. It was good to have him visit, even for the short while.

Peace, Love, Patience and Fluidity with the Universe - Part II

2007-09-09T13:26:00.000-06:00

When I left for Korea, there was a brief conversation about coming home if anything happened to my family. My maternal grandparents had both passed away, my paternal grandfather died before I went back to Korea, and my paternal grandmother is a strong battle-axe (and I mean that as lovingly as can be imagined) of a woman who may live forever. My parents were in relatively good health, and everyone else I knew and loved was pretty much strong and healthy. I never thought it would come to be.

First when I heard the news, I felt annoyed: I had plans, things I wanted to see and do, a course to finish, a couple of trips planned, a certain amount of money I wanted saved before returning home... the whole idea of coming to Korea the 2nd time was to make sure we came home with enough money to set up a house, buy a car, all that jazz. I didn’t want to come home to wiat for news about whether my dad was sick, how sick he might be, and what it all meant. Then, I felt worried: what if I don’t get home quickly and he dies? What if I don’t get home before he can’t communicate anymore, and he doesn’t even know that I came home? The I felt annoyed and angry again, I didn’t want to come home, to give up all of my plans, to come back for a purpose that wasn’t my own, to have so many things once again left undone financially. S and I talked it over, a lot. She told me that if it was her dad, she would probably have been on a plane already. I thought about it a lot. Was she right? Should I leave? Well?... Then, I had enough of torturing myself, and I knew I had to come home.

This all happened in the span of the overnight between Tuesday and Wednesday, between the 2 phone calls home... the first call, I was going to be home at the start of November. The next day, I was home on the first flight I could catch. Turned out I was home that Sunday at 5pm before I barely even knew that I had left. I said goodbye to my kids, a wonderful group of 5 and 6 year olds that I loved teaching; I said goodbye to the people I taught with, the 7 other foreigners in the strange world that is Korea… easily the best group of people I have ever worked with; I said an awkward goodbye to the Korean staff I worked with, rushed because of the lack of time, and uneasy because Koreans aren’t great with emotions outside of “happy.” I spent Saturday with S in Seoul, wandering around GyeongBeok Palace for the 2nd day, taking photos with our new cameras, just enjoying hanging out for the day, pretending in my head that I wasn’t having to leave the next day. Waves of anger, anxiety, sadness, worry, relief, nausea and anticipation cycled through me at 6,000rpm, despite the fact that I knew I had made the right decision…

Peace, Love, Patience and Fluidity with the Universe - Part I

2007-09-08T22:16:00.000-06:00

I never thought it was going to be easy. Honestly, and I mean this as kindly as it can be said, I don't really like being around sick people. I hate the smell of sickness and death. It is so hard for me to look into eyes every day that have lost their spark for life. I'm not a big fan of doctors, and I don't like hospitals. I hate things that can't be clearly defined in the medical world, of which there are many. I’m tired of trying to help people that don’t really want my help. If he weren't my dad, I wouldn't be here doing what I'm doing.

2 weeks ago tomorrow, I came to Alberta back from Korea after getting news that my Dad was sick... On that Saturday I talked to my Mom and got news that Dad was sick, going in for a CT Scan; The following Tuesday I got word that it was cancer, pancreatic cancer that had spread to cause lesions on his liver, and the doctors said he had 3-6 months to live... Mom said I didn't need to come home, to wait until we knew more about it, how advanced it was, that Dad wasn't doing too bad. I started making my changes of plans that night (I’m a planner, like to have an “outline” of a plan, if not a definite one)... I would finish my contract teaching in Korea a bit early, do the course I had planned in Arizona, go with S to a friend's wedding in Mexico, and then be home in the first week of November. That felt reasonable, unrushed. S and I talked about it, she said she thought maybe I should be going home sooner, I said I'd think about it...

The next day, Wednesday, I talked to Mom again, and I talked to Dad. He didn't sound too bad, a little preoccupied maybe, but not too bad... when I told him I'd be home at the end of October, and not to go anywhere in the meantime, he said "yah, I'll do my best I guess". I hung up the phone feeling sick to my stomach, replaying in my head that I'd just told my dad, who just received news he is dying within the next 6 months, that I'd be home "in a couple of months", certainly leaving the message that I didn’t think it was really important that he was dying... I decided that I had to go home then. I had already talked to my boss about leaving right before the Fall holidays, kinda like the Korean Thanksgiving time, and we had things pretty much arranged, he handled it with only a minimal amount of stammering and chart-drawing (like he is wont to do when he is stressed, or trying to make more time to think). I talked to him again on Thursday morning, told him I had new news that Dad was sicker than they thought, and I needed to go home then, as soon as he could book me a ticket. You can imagine how big his eyes got, and the way he stammered, trying to work out in his head how he was going to make that happen, but he was pretty good about it... everyone at work was really good about it. I felt really bad leaving so quickly, with so little notice, without everything wrapped up, but there wasn't a lot of choice for me. Family comes first. I wouldn’t have said that was the case if you had asked me earlier in the month; I would likely have told you that family comes next after whatever I wanted… it turned out the be something I didn’t realize was true for me, until this happened. Instead, it turns out, Family does come first.

Dreams and Visions

2007-04-21T18:04:00.002-06:00

If someone asked you 'what is your dream, or your vision, for your life?", would you have an answer? I assumed that I did, but if I do, I can't seem to spit it out. A person should have dreams for their life by this point, right? Everyone has dreams for their life, don't they? I feel a bit as though I'm just living from week to week and month to month and deciding from that point what to do in the next point, with the dream of having a dream. I've lived life that way for a long time. How do you define dreams? Should they be huge? Should they be small? Should they be attainable, or should they be something that's always just a *little* out of your reach? My dreams have always been shorter-term kinds of things; broad things that I accomplish, and then wonder why I set them as dreams in the first place?

What about goals? If I answer the question 'What are your goals in life?', the answer would sound something like 'to have goals'. I can't describe it in any kind of a straightforward way, no sensible words come to my lips. It's as though I move through my life toward knowingly and acceptingly being what I actually, inwardly, am. I move, very slowly it seems some days, away from who I'm not, from being who I think or thought that I should be, who others thought I should be. And that in itself, who I actually am, remains a daily discovery as well.
My life is a search for self, a path of becoming. Most days, I wish that I had more tangible, measurable goals, like other people I have met. Come on, I'm rigid: I like having goals, things I can measure, lists I can check off; anyone who really knows me would definitely know that! But, at the same time, I know I could never be satisfied with a life where my goal was to get married, have kids, and retire at 50... to have a good job, buy a nice house, buy a nice car, summer at the cottage, and winter in the desert.... Don't those dreams start to feel empty for their dreamers? In our world today we have these crazy quests that result in a stockpile of material goods, and an empty feeling where accomplishment might otherwise roost. I remember having those dreams, thinking that if I could just get the "picture perfect" life, I wouldn't have this feeling inside that something is wrong, that something is missing... thing is, I don't think those tangible goals in life will ever help me fill that space.
My little brother is 26. He's married, has 3 beautiful kids and a beautiful, loving wife; he has a house, a car and a good job. He renovates, enjoys the outdoors, helps and visits with our parents, and likes having a cold beer at the end of his day. And he is happy. He is satisfied with his life. "What more would I want, Shauna?" My parents did things pretty similarly... They had the house up in Ft Mac, the 2 cars (trucks), the 2 kids; they had the summer house at the beach, and the lake lot for camping. They work, and work, and work; they garden, they have family dinners, they watch TV, they enjoy the outdoors, they are comfortable. And they are happy. My mom says that she is happy, as long as her kids are happy. My dad, he doesn't really say anything. When they die, will they feel like their lives were fulfilling? Will they feel like they did what they wanted to do in life, like they became who they were meant to become, that they lived up to the potential of who they could have been?
My goal of becoming, evolving, discovering how to be who I am leaves me with the feeling that I am pursuing a strange end, a self-reflective end which defies itself and is never-ending. My truest self is the one who is in search of herself. How can I ever truly be myself, when the very act of reaching to find myself puts it out of reach? My life needs to have meaning. How do I become the person I was meant to be? My heart's desire is to be a genuine person; to communicate authentically, with an open heart. My life is a search for meaning and integrity, for self-actualization, for becoming who I am, and who I was truly meant to be. The discovery of that piece alone is a daily pursuit... but is it a goal? Is it a dream?
Everyone in life wears masks. I consciously wear the masks of wife, friend, co-worker, foreigner, student, teacher, woman and daughter. Every mask gives me a different energy, a different point of perspective from which to engage with the world. Even alone, I wear my mask of self, being who I think I am, or who I think I should be in that moment. In no moment am I truly unmasked. I can be charming, engaging and charismatic. I can be calm, quiet and introspective. I can be silly, fun and adventurous. I can be serious, directed and disciplined. I can be sexy, alluring and seductive. I can be kind, gentle and friendly. I can be curious, analytical and filled with wonder. I can be sure, composed and confident. I can be loving, honest and supportive. I can be genuine, real and open. I am all these things, these things are all parts of me, yet I am none of them. I can be jealous, petty and whiny. I can be angry, mournful and morose. I can be insecure, uncertain and afraid. I can be fake, dishonest and insincere. I can be closed-minded, rejecting and cold. I can be mean, selfish and harsh. And again, I am all these things, these things are all parts of me, yet I am none of them.

My intention in life is to become on the outside, in every breath and every step, who I am deep within on the inside. I have talked about this before with the people I love. I feel as though I go through my life split: I am both actor and audience. I am always on stage, at the same time watching myself be on stage. It's ironic really. I know a deep desire for unity within, but still I live every day split, standing to one side, watching myself be myself, captive to my own ideas of myself. In everything I do, everything, it as though I am watching from the sideline at the same time that I am interacting with the world. For as long as I can remember in life, I have been constantly consciously observing and evaluating myself, as though I am of two distinct energies. I cannot remember one time in my life where I was fully *inside* myself, where 100% of my energy was devoted to being in that moment. Why is that? Even now as I sit here and type, I review and edit from the perspective outside of myself, that sits and watches what I write and what I do in each second.
Goals... aspirations... desires... ambitions... dreams... visions... for the future, for life, for myself... I still can't define what mine are...

Vagina Monologues and My Moral Outrage

2007-03-15T03:11:00.008-06:00

Earlier this month I took part in the Seoul, Korea 2007 production of the Vagina Monologues. We didn't spend a lot of time rehearsing, both foreigners and Koreans participated, and I think things turned out great. The show was a lot of fun, it raised money for a great cause, and it got some important messages to men and women (both foregn and Korean) in Korea. The more involved part that I did was an introduction to the monologue dedicated to the women who were forced into sexual slavery by the Japanses Government between 1932 and 1945. I was moved to tears the first few times I read it, and barely managed to say my part without tears during the shows. It talked about the fact that the Japanese Government forced somewhere between 50,000 and 200,000 women from different countries into sexual slavery, through coersion, deception, and outright abduction. These women were taken from their homes, their families, and they were destroyed. The Japanese Government actually DENIES any part in what happened, and will not acknowledge it as an assault they committed. Last year, they went so far as to erase the written history and documentation from school texts and history books, meaning that their future generations of youths will not even know what happened. The US Congress has introduced a resolution demanding that the Japanese Government acknowledge what happened, apologize to the surviving women (those that are still alive are between 70 and 94 now I think?), and put the damn information/evidence/history back into the school and history books. Now, yesterday, I read that Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe has flatly said that regardless of what any country does or says (including the US), it will not be apologizing for anything that happened, with an "I didn't do it!" 6-year old reaction in the media.

I know the world isn't a great place. I also know that the world isn't as bad as it could be. I know that sometime soon, things are going to change, for the better or for the worse still yet to be determined... this needs to change, one person at a time. People often think 'that's too bad, but it had nothing to do with me, so I don't really care'. Problem with that way of thinking: everything is part of everything else - all life in completly interconnected with all other life... "We cannot assume responsibilty for ourselves if we cannot see reality as it truly is." (Song of the Deer, 1999). In my absorption of it, ignoring or denying things doesn't make them go away, doesn't make them smaller in your personal life, and I'm guessing it works the same on a universal scale. I just read something this morning that says "We do not come to understand ourselves, others, or the dymanics of Nature by separating, isolating, or dissecting. Rather, we must look at how we affect and are affected by everything in the Universe in a continuous spiral of existence."

I took this excerpt from the V-Day Program after the show... If the world were summarized as a global village of 1000 people...

Statistics about Violence

If the world was a global village of 1000 people:

Half the population, 500, would be women. There would have been 510 women, but 10 were either never born through gender selective abortion, or died in infancy from neglect.
In a number of the village’s various communities, girls are considered to be of lesser value than boys. Traditions and masculine inheritance rights reinforce this discrimination against women.
The women of the village are increasingly at risk of contracting HIV/AIDS. Three women in the village already have the disease, education about it is patchy and the use of contraception to prevent its spread is limited.
167 women in the village have been beaten or coerced into sex and every woman has a one in three chance of being abused in this way. Women of the village risk being killed by their family members, in fact 70% of all murdered women would have been killed by their male partners.
Only 60 women in the village have ever disclosed the violence they were subjected to and a further 70 of them have only spoken out when interviewed for a survey.
100 of the women have been the victims of rape or attempted rape and every woman faces a high risk of this violation, especially if the village is plunged into war. Across the village, violence against women goes unreported, under-investigated and unchecked. _____________________________________________________

This has got to change. Things need to be different in the world. We need to start treating one another with dignity and respect, regardless of whether they are friends or strangers. We have to stop making stupid jokes with friends about 100-year old women being beaten, or other things that are just really not laughable. One day, one person, one thought and one action at a time, things need to change... So for my part, being part of the Vagina Monologues was important to me: educating people about awful things that have happened in the world that have seemingly gone unnoticed; talking to people about changes that need to be made in the future to make things go down a different road, a higher road.

I'm also going to get off this site and write a letter (a letter, not an email), to the office of the Japanese Prime Minister telling him that I think what he is doing is wrong, and that I will not forget, and when I have children, they will know what happened, and so on and so forth. It's nothing huge, but this is how the world gets changed, one person, one attitude, one small thing at a time... I will be aware of what I do, and how I live my life. I will try to remember that things I do and say are all part of something bigger, a bigger world system, a universal system... I will pay attention to what goes on in the world, even if the leaders would like to sweep their national and international woes under the proverbial carpet. I wait for the day when we see more modelling of honor and truth from our politicians and world leaders... and I wait...