Wednesday, February 29, 2012

One Life - This Life -

This song has been moving me for weeks, I've been cranking in up on my commute, singing it to my kids, dancing in the kitchen to it and yes even shedding a few tears to it.

Tuesday night Lula and KJ enjoyed their very first ever concert sans Mom or Dad, complete with swaying cell phone backlights and concert t-shirts. Needless to say they were incredibly excited. Makeup, straight irons and clothes were flying in wild anticipation. The giggling, bouncing and teen peculations were off the charts! Post concert chatter was a little like having a conversation in a blender. It's been more than 24 hours now since the final curtain and I think we might be coming back down. Although the excitement is probably going to be revisited with the wearing of the concert Ts.

I curled up with KJ this evening to look at her pictures. I joked with the girls before they left ..."If you meet the band tell them how much your mom loves 'One Life'" they laughed at me but they both recorded the performance for me on their phones. Yes, I want to cry. They get it, they get that One Life is the message that I am always trying to live and deliver.

Tonight the message is crucial to me. Someone very special has returned to hospital to battle his demons. Here is what I want him to know; If love and concern were enough to heal you, you would be healed  a million times over, our love would have done that. Love it is not enough, sometimes love keeps us from the thing that could do the healing. Sometimes we all need the help of strangers, they are your hope, let them help you to heal. You will get better and I am going to love you by staying back and letting the strangers do the thing that our love is not enough to accomplish. You are worth doing the work, but you have to do it. KJ says it's not enough to do the work, you have to want whats on the other side of the work. We are all be here waiting, loving you and praying for you. That never changes. You get One Life - don't stop. I wish that I had not failed to show you how amazing your life can be.

Gratitude tonight for musicians, children, friends and strangers sharing the message of One Life.


Monday, February 27, 2012

Breaking Out

Today is all about breaking your stride. Not slowing down or stopping but moving in an unexpected direction. I always chuckle to myself when I see those folk power walking through the mall or on a stroll through the neighbourhood. Those people on a mission – full bent for their destination and not letting anything get in their way. Those people go places and they are very likely to meet the destination they have set for themselves. Their bodies march to an internal forward, forward, forward, forward rhythm that propels them from A-B. I know the charge of following that rhythm, it has gotten me out of a lot of shopping malls!

It is the rhythm that moves you. It is rhythm that moves all of us. Rhythm is actuality is the universal common denominator. Music is built on rhythm. Our bodies respond to rhythm, in fact they don’t just respond to it they operate on it; your heartbeat, breathing, brainwaves, hormone cycles – all rhythmic. The same is true for the natural world; the tides, lunar phases, seasons, precipitation cycles – all dependable, constant, predictable, and rhythmic. What about how we live? Everyday a flow of traffic is running a constant stop and go pattern. Most of us have a pattern of work and rest both daily and within a weekly rotation. We follow rhythms we've establish or have had established for us at work, day in day out, sun up sun down, breath in breath out – life has a rhythm.

Rhythm is a very good thing...until it is not. I have missed some very great bargains following that rhythmic “get the heck out of here” mall march in my head. Getting on a bad rhythm is different than a bad habit. A bad habit is a single behaviour that you repeat regardless of the knowledge that it is doing you no good. Rhythm is how we have learned to flow through our days we don’t think about it, it just propels us along developing a bad rhythm is easier than you think. Good or bad that rhythm you've developed is a comfort to you. I learned that way back in design school. White pillow, blue pillow, white pillow, blue pillow, is the subconscious calmer. The 'thing' in the room that you can't quite put your finger on that gives you a sense of peace and comfort. It does not matter if the material is ugly and hard on the eyes; gross pillow, ugly pillow, gross pillow, ugly pillow has the same calming effect as pretty pillow, cute pillow, pretty pillow, cute pillow. It is the rhythm that makes you feel good.

That is why even people who are stuck in bad rhythms think they are navigating life just fine. They are comfortable even if their rhythm is; stay up late, sleep till noon, score some 'help', hang with friends, talk about a job, stay up late, sleep till noon, score some 'help', hang with friends.... It's their rhythm. It comforts them.

Now, maybe your rhythm is not that dire, maybe your rhythm is get up, make lunches, go to work, eat a salad, pay some bills, come home, catch up with friends, watch some TV go to bed. Nothing wrong with that.

There is nothing wrong with your Rhythm if you are happy with where you are and what you are achieving. There is nothing wrong with your rhythm if you don't want something different for your life. What if you do though, want something different for your life? You need to break your stride! You need to stop the left foot right foot chant in your head that is moving you toward the mall exit and turn left! You need to throw a orange pillow into the white pillow, blue pillow pattern. That monster house with the purple door stuck between to cookie cutter homes on any street in suburbia catches the attention of everyone – I promise!

If you want to move yourself to a different place, a different reality, a happier state, you need to break your rhythm. Do something out of the ordinary, Draw attention to the thing you want in your life. If you want to be happier – buy a stranger a coffee today. If you want to move ahead in your career pick up the phone and call someone you've never talked to before. If you want to improve a relationship go out for coffee tonight with that person instead of settling in for the usual sitcom and a cup of tea. If you want to expand and grow and your business and your rhythm is based on talking; try listening. If you always have to be in control let someone else tell you what they think today and really listen. Take a piece of it and incorporate it into your rhythm.

Step out of line, move to the right, do the unexpected. Break your stride.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Wednesday's Example of Domestic Bliss

We've graduated our darling Cooper out of his safety crate while we are absent during the day. The very first day he did AWESOME! I think he understood that freedom is best repaid with good behaviour. Bless his heart he earned another day.

He's been doing really well or rather we have been doing really well at keeping things out of doggy danger. For 3 weeks he's been lounging on the couch without reprimand, watching cartoons and terrorizing the cat without consequences.

We got comfortable and we started to slip in our diligence. I can't list everything that's gone the way of the canine crusher but I can say that I now own shares in a slipper company from China among others.

This week we doubled our efforts to keep the house doggy proofed and have lost only this...

He started with Appetizers yesterday, so today I hid all the Entree books. Gratitude that he didn't start with dessert, if he's like the rest of the house there would have been no stopping him!

Find a reason to smile today, Share your smile, your hope and GRATITUDE


Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Another Thing I Did Backwards

Here I am...

Standing in the snow, decked out in matching pants and ski jacket. A smile on my face and a spring in my step. This was a glorious moment.... I've begun my story at the end, lets do this backwards.

5 minutes before this picture was taken I was careening down a slope at a breakneck .02km/hr with my butt end pointing towards the chalet and my head tilted heaven side. cursing under my breath and praising the snowboard instructor charged with keeping me alive.

Rewind the film a little further and there I would be lamely attempting to crab walk down from the top of the run while failing miserably to pull myself into an upright position. In fairness, I have the same problem every morning getting out of bed, these things take planning. I watched E-man rise to his feet like a title wave coming into shore; graceful, effortless and matter of fact. My attempts netted me a bruise the size of a softball on my tail bone. Michael earned his own bruises, I saw it happen.

From the top of the hill things didn't seem like they would go too badly. The very worst was already behind me once I dismounted the chairlift. Really, getting to the top of the hill was a scarier prospect than smashing into a tree on my way down, at least I would be hitting the base of a tree not crashing down on top of one. Tell me my fears are unfounded, have you ever looked at a chair lift? They remind me of my Lula's 3 grade attempt to build a suspension bridge with spaghetti and paper clips. or those 12 pound clip on earrings Gran used to wear; you could literally watch those suckers dangle perilously for an hour and still miss the exact moment they would plop down on to her dinner plate - right into the gravy.

The very fact that I got to the top of the hill in the first place was because of Stephanie, our instructor with a 'leave no man (or scared to death mother of 3) behind approach to teaching. The very sweet girl held my hand and did not push me out of the gondola while I hyperventilated and confessed my terror of heights. I should probably send a thank you note to Stephanie.

It really is too bad that the darned chairlift stood between the safety of the base of the slope and my attempt at snowboarding. I may have tried again despite how badly I sucked at it, the bruised butt and battered humour. I was having a great time after all at the base of the hill, with Stephanie and our class, learning how to walk with the snowboard and steer the snowboard, and how to stop the snowboard. That was fun. Maybe I'm more suited for cross country snowboarding.

In fact I was taking the whole thing in light hearted stride. I even suggested to the rental clerk that I would be leading not with my left or right foot but rather with my butt. which sounded really clever and funny until it actually happened.

At dinner the evening before I almost made my good friend choke on her Shiraz when I announced my snowboarding plans. Everyone understands my fears, everyone understands that climbing out of my comfort zone is not something I am known for. Everyone understands that I am not athletic or brave or adventurous. We are however learning that my fear is diminishing with age, courage is a by-product of my wrinkles and I am willing to do just about anything prove that it is never to late to take control of your life.

Gratitude today that I decided to take a risk, gratitude that between starting and finishing I was terrified, did things backwards and landed on my feet at the end of it all. Gratitude to Stephanie and my other supporters. Gratitude for the ability to cross Snowbaording off my list and never have to do it again!

Friday, February 17, 2012

The Space Between Raindrops: The Journey Begins With a Single Toothbrush

This is one from the archives but it feels like today is a good day to revisit it - the reminder has done me well today - enjoy The Space Between Raindrops: The Journey Begins With a Single Toothbrush: Our home is filled with oddity. We've talked before about each room being the equivalent of a "what's wrong with this picture" page. If you'...

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Dreaming the Hotdog Dream

The time has arrived in our world for Lula and KJ to begin selecting their courses for the next year in high school. I never panic too much about the process, I let them choose whatever they want basicly. I know that's not how you are suppose to do it. I understand that you are suppose to work with them to develop a post secondary strategy and then guide them in selecting the courses that will get them to their goal. I understand that is how the good honor roll, ivy league parents get the job done. I also don't care.

When E-man was little (or littler than he is now) he had one desire. He wanted to be a hotdog. Not the guy showing off on the basketball court or the hockey rink, or a guy who makes hotdogs, not even a guy dressed up as hot dog. He wanted to be an actual hotdog. A real live, lips and arsehole tube steak on a good old fashioned enriched white roll with ketchup. It was hilarious! In his defence he was not quite three years old and being a hotdog was as plausible as being a princess, a juggler at the circus or a mermaid. We got such a kick out of it we used to use him like a party trick... “Grandma, ask E what he wants to be when he grows up.” For 6 months anytime someone asked his answer was 'A Hotdog' there was no wavering. Something else that never wavered was the reaction. “That's silly, you can't be a hotdog!”

At first E was adamant that 'yes he could so be a Hotdog' he would argue and defend his dream. By the end of his 6 month hotdog dream he was answering with 'I know.' Looking back it kind of breaks my heart, he didn't know he couldn't be a hotdog, not until everybody told him it wasn't possible, not until everyone told him that his dream was silly. Eventually he wanted to be a policeman like every other little boy.

We do this, in the name of securing good futures for our kids, we rob them of their dreams or rather opportunities to dream every day. We tell them what they should be pursuing, guide them away from pursuits that seem pointless, fruitless and time wasting. We redirect them and tell them them when they want to be a hotdog that their dream is silly and not achievable.

How on earth do you discover that you have a passion to climb a mountain if no one ever lets you wander in the foothills with a rope and a carabiner?

High school is an amazing opportunity to try everything and anything on. Where else can you be a chef in the morning, an account executive before lunch and an auto mechanic in the afternoon. I have one rule when it comes to picking courses. Pick whatever you want, as long as you go, as long as you give it your all. It's your life, your choices, your future. If I steer your ship, you may never discover the land that excites your passion. There will always be time to reroute, pick up the courses you need and re-chart your course. They may very well be in high school for 8 years, I get that. I also get that is so much easier than waking up each and everyday heading into your job as a pharmacist wishing you were a hotdog.

Gratitude today for the freedom to dream.

"Dream, all things are possible for those who believe"


Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Happy Valentines Day

There is no post today. That would require me to put my love for my Husband, my Children, my family, friends and my fellow man into words, I have neither the right words or suitable time left in my life to accomplish that.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Sweet Bugger All

It's 4 o'clock on Sunday afternoon. Do you know what I or rather we have done today?....Sweet bugger all! and it was  WONDERFUL!

We got hockey practice out of the way early this morning, we were home by 11 and I was back into my comfy pants by 11:05. KJ hasn't even gotten out of her PJs yet. Lula had to work for a few hours but then she is off to catch up with Friends over the new Walking Dead something or other. Mike's been laid up on the couch all afternoon with a bad back and the classic "Easy Rider." E-man and Cooper are on round 68 of wrestle mania Dog vs. Boy. Life is Good.

I didn't get laundry done today or groceries. I didn't clean the bathroom or wash the floors. I watched crappy old movies, made a big pot of stew, helped KJ with a batch of peanut butter sandwich cookies, I cleaned up after her and ate some cookies too! I didn't step on the elliptical or do my hair or put on my face.

Our greatest accomplishment might in fact be these peanut butter sandwich cookies.  I have a feeling though that an accomplishment greater still is that we did NOTHING and we did it without guilt. Life is so busy that we very rarely have unplanned time to do nothing. We try every Sunday to have a decompression day, a day to catch up, prepare for the week ahead and relax. This we WE DID IT!!!

Tonight I am celebrating with my feet up a cup of tea and a cookie. Sure I'll need another 20 minutes on the elliptical tomorrow but tonight I'm grateful.

Gratitude, Hope and Smile are meant to be shared.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

The Scariest Thing I've Ever Written

Sometimes the universe comes together to deliver a message to you. Like today, I'm home with E-man (who may or may not be under the weather we are still deciding). When I called Michael to advise him of the events and talk about what I might do with my day at home he said “why don't you just write today? The laundry and the vacuuming aren't going anywhere.” (yes, I married a gem) Today also happens to be Bell Let's Talk Day; a day devoted to mental illness. What should I write about? I suppose today is the day, thank you universe – very subtle.

Sharing my mental health story is something I have skirted for most if not all of my life. Mostly because I never really viewed my problem as a true health issue but rather as a personal flaw. People with mental health issues see things and hear voices, they think they are Jesus and believe they can set buildings on fire with their minds. That was not me, I was just scared. Scared, that's a pretty tame word for what I felt. I was bloody well terrified every waking minute of my life and was powerless against it.

I spent every day in kindergarten bawling my eyes out, breathless feeling like I was going to implode with fear because I had to take a school bus home every afternoon. For an entire year, I didn't miss a day. I didn't get help, I didn't get better, I got told to get over it. I didn't get over it but I did learn to hide it, understanding that clearly my fear was a negative personality trait that annoyed adults and frustrated my family.

Hiding the fear from people did not make it go away. It made made me cleaver. I avoided people to avoid their questions, I avoided socializing to avoid situations that may put me at risk, I made escape plans and excuses, I cried in the bathroom and in my bed at night, I worried that people could tell there was something 'not right' about me. They were right, but I never asked for help, I never got help. I became a teenager and it got worse.

Worse meant that the physical affects of anxiety were paralysing. The racing heart, the headaches, the panic, the sleep loss, stomach problems. I seriously thought there was something medically wrong with me. So much so that I took my problem to my mother. Her diagnosis; Panic attacks “that's normal, I get them all the time.” she gave me a breathing technique and told me to take five and collect my shit then get back to life. That worked, I breathed and I got back to life avoiding all situations that threatened to provide more panic induction than I could handle. I altered my post secondary plans, avoided rock concerts and trips with my friends, driving on the expressway, great jobs, and once in a life time opportunities that were amazing but beyond my scope of control.

I also met Michael, sent from the heavens to hold me up through all those thing I could not avoid. He understood there was something not right about me but he didn't care. That attitude got me through a lot, It also got him more than he bargained for. We fell in love, we got married. I spent every day terrified that he was going to be killed on the way to work, he spent weekends at home because I was afraid to go out. He suffered through my questions “did you lock the door? turn off the stove? put out your cigarette?” I wouldn’t have put up with me I don't know how he did!

Then we had babies and the questions got worse. Worse because now I had other lives I had to worry about, more people I could hurt, loose, upset. There was so much I could do wrong. There were less people I could talk to about it, the last thing I wanted was for people to think that I didn't have what it took to be a good mother. I lost a lot of sleep, I did a lot of things over and over to make sure I had them right. I ignored my family making fun at my craziness. Inside I felt like I was going to self destruct but I had also been dealing with my illness long enough to keep myself under control and occasionally talk myself down off the ledge. When I couldn't Michael was always there to rescue me. Eventually I levelled out, I got to a point where I believed I had the world blinded to the fear and panic that raged inside of me 24 hours a day. No one who knew my secret not the mothers on the PTA, not the neighbours, not my family, not my friends. My mother will tell you she knew but she didn't, not really, only Michael knew. He knew because he paced the floors with me at night, he changed his plans to suit my strength, he made excuses for my absences and held me when I cried.

Then one night I looked out my front window and watched as a fleet of emergency response workers tried to save my friend. I stared in absolute horror as she lost her life at the hands of her husband. That night I lost the fragile grip of control I had on my life.

I was heart broken, I was terrified, I was in shock. I was 7 months pregnant with my son and that got me through the first 3 months. Then my son was born and I fell apart. I became enraged at the drop of a hat, I hated my friends because they didn't want to talk about it, I hated my family because they told me to get over it, I hated my job as a mother because I had no patience for it, I hated Michael because he couldn't make it stop. The panic attacks became constant and punctuated with sheer rage and ranting. I couldn't decide boxes or bags, dress or slacks, I slept less and worried more, I pushed everyone away. My head hurt constantly, my stomach was a mess, I shook all the time, cried constantly and didn't care, I couldn't care I was too scared every minute. My heart beat on high octane every second, I wanted out of my marriage, I wanted out of my role as a mother, I wanted to escape my own body and I couldn't. We lived in ever increasing turmoil for almost 10 months before I went to the doctor for help.

I sat with him and explained how I felt, he listened but didn't have too many questions, he had been my doctor all of my life and I remember him looking at me like “well it took longer than I thought for you to reach out but now we can do something about it” I remember how I cried when he handed me my first prescription for anti-anxiety meds. I wept, sobbed actually with the realization that the life that was spiralling out of control could be handed back to me as easily as scribbling on a piece of paper. I wept for everything I had missed while I was busy trying to hide and cope.

Of course that prescription wasn't a magic bullet, It didn't do the work for me. What it did was put my mind in a place where I could do the work, it put the breaks on my runaway fearful thoughts. It gave me the opportunity to experience life without paralysing worry and panic. It provided me the freedom to fix my relationship with Michael and our children. Most importantly it proved to me that the worst is not likely to happen, best laid plans are always tentative and that as long as nobody dies and even if the worst should happen and somebody does, everything will be okay, different but okay.

It was a lot of hard work to get to a place where I could control my own thoughts, be forgiving of myself and comfortable with expressing my opinions without worry that I would be judged or condemned. It was a long time before I could spend time in a crowd or let my children do the things that children do. It was a long time before I made new friends. It was a long time before I told my family that I was being treated. It was a long time before I could go without medication...but I got there. Today I live relatively free of fear, I appreciate when things go really well and I go with the flow when they don't

It's not perfect, I still struggle with social interaction and suffer the odd panic attack here and there but it's a far cry from where I was. There will always be something to work on and improve but the glory is that I am miles from where I was and when I feel the old me creeping back I can understand that it is not me, it is in me. I can do the exercises reach for the help and get back to a good place.

So let's talk. I talk to my kids and I talk to acquaintances who have suffered. I don't talk to some of my family about it because I no longer believe that 'get over it' is a solid approach to conquering the disease of mental illness and arguing about it brings me down. Let's talk, I think I could and when I surmount the final hurdle of social anxiety I would like to do just that.

Talk is important for those still suffering, for those like Michael supporting loved ones who suffer and especially for those who believe that their situation is hopeless. Let's talk because in my own life beyond my own story there are people suffering other forms of mental illness, talk is important because they need to know there is hope.

Gratitude for sharing my story.


Lets Talk...About My Kitchen

Welcome to my kitchen!

Welcome to the very heart of our home. This is where it all happens, the arguing, the laughing, the cooking, dancing, negotiations. It is where people come for comforting hugs, sound advise, great food, good wine, and fun times. This room and this picture tell an awful lot about our lives.

Live well, Laugh often, Love much Those are the words on the bulkhead - the family mantra.

The tiny sign just above the sink says "Families are Forever" I keep it there as a reminder to the person mad as heck at the rest of the clan for making such a damn mess that we're not going anywhere.  

You may notice the knobs are missing from the stove. That's us too. 3 dozen kids have been raised in this kitchen and not one managed to turn on the gas not even accidentally. Nope it took a curious cat a few weeks back to begin filling the house with gas. Now we keep the knobs in the drawer beside the stove.

On the right, that is my beloved dishwasher. It has been through the war in our home, a little battered and shaky but we talk nice to it and it keeps performing.

In the corner is my favourite small appliance - my Kitchen-aid mixer; sturdy, reliable and dependable. Next to it sits my not so favourite appliance, our  fancy shmancy new toaster that sometimes toasts bread, usually burns bagels, refuses to cooperate without being plugged in and ignores the lift toast request on a regular basis. I should throw it out the window but I'm determined to work through the growing pains to a place of toasted understanding. 

The sign on the wall beside the toaster is "A Recipe for a Happy Marriage" it has been hanging in my kitchen for 20 years and hasn't failed to produce great results year after year. 

Difficult to see is the monstrosity hanging on the window. It's a little bit Martha Stewart, a little bit Hannibal Lecter. Its a wire hanging vase of sorts with everything but flowers hanging in the vials. There is a shoe shaped cookie cutter and a butterfly one. At the top is a stuffed bumblebee gifted to me by KJ many years ago. There are also 6 years worth of Thanksgiving & Christmas Turkey wishbones drying in the sun. We are saving them up for a really big wish, so far we haven't had to make a really big wish, I'm hoping we never have to. 

Also in the window ledge are Michael's tea timer and a little Mexican Lego Man with a poncho and maracas. One day we are going to take him back to his homeland.

On the ceiling are memories of grape juice and hot sauce. The hot sauce was me the grape juice I have never gotten a clear answer about. Every time I bring it up the kids bust into laughter so hard they can't speak.

We keep butter on the counter because I detest holes in my toast.

Some things you can't see in this picture are the calendar and the telephone and the I give blood sticker stuck on the wall. You might not be able to read that the rooster says "fish tacos" although it usually say 'Kate is a Butt' if we forget to hide the chalk from E-man. There is a candle buring on the table because we did have fish tacos for diner. You don't see the ever present broom tucked behind out industrial size garbage can or the leaning tower of cookbooks that don't fit in the cupboard. The fridge is magnet free because magnets don't stick to stainless steel...but fingerprints do! Everyday I ask myself "what were you thinking?"

The other thing I should probably mention about our kitchen is that it NEVER looks like this! I hid the wine bottle, put the recylcing out to the garage and I swept the floor. Oh I suppose it does somewhere under the dishes, empty cereal boxes and toast crumbs look like this, but we rarely see it. Then every once in a while I loose my patience and do a kitchen teardown. This usually has the effect of terrifying the kids into cleaning up after themselves for a few days.

Gratitude courtesy of Michael today who is very grateful that he is still walking upright after asking if I was going to do the same thing to our bathroom

Today is Let's Talk Day (Bell's Mental Health Awareness Campaign) - I hope you enjoyed my kitchen, there is less hidden in there then the post I'm working on. Talk about Mental Health. 

Gratitude, Hope and Smiles are meant to be shared.

Thursday, February 2, 2012

So Says the GroundHog

Pay no attention, I'm not striving for composed today more a ramble out loud. For those wondering 2 out of 3 ground hogs predicted an early spring.

Once each year North Americans huddle around a whole in the ground and wait for a giant rodent to predict for us when we might expect the arrival of spring. The premise being, if the darling pops out of the hole and sees his shadow we can expect 6 more weeks of winter. If he doesn’t see his shadow we get 2 more. Or is it the other way around? I can never keep it straight (Wikipedia says I have it the right way). Some are joking this year that in our part of Canada the unseasonably warm weather and absence of winter will have the furry bugger climbing out with a Margarita and some spf 60. (Now there’s a pest I can content with)
I am intrigued with our gravitation to this animal’s prediction capabilities. Wouldn’t we all like to know what the future has in store for us? Clearly, we would, otherwise we wouldn’t spend so much time on psychics, fortune tellers and facebook “know your death date” apps. The Mayan calendar would have about as much significance as the family budget scribbled on the back of a hydro envelope. Nostradamus would be just another nutcase logging the side effects of late night pizza and too much rum. If I wasn’t curious I wouldn’t check my horoscope every day, open fortune cookies with reverence, check the 14 day forecast or pay attention to the market analysis when it crosses my desk (ok, I don’t do that last one). 
We want an edge and wouldn’t that be spectacular. To know that in 6 years you are in for a lotto win fall, that the love of your life is to be encountered on the 3rd Sunday in March 2023 or that next Tuesday you are going to need a sitter because Junior will be home with a cold. It would be simply fabulous to know that you were not going to receive any bad news, health scares, large auto repair bills or layoff notices for a designated period of days, months or years.
Life would be smooth sailing, no bumps in the road, no surprises, easy-peasy, predictable… a safe bet.
What would we do with the information I wonder? If you knew that you weren’t going to be diagnosed with cancer would you smoke? If you knew that you were never going to be involved in an auto accident would you still wear your seatbelt? What about if you knew you had 3 years to live, would you stop putting things off? How about if you knew for fact that you were in for the big lotto win fall, would you still worry about money?
Think of the planning and preparations we could do! The worry that would be lifted if we knew what was in store at any given moment.
If you knew you could not fail what would you try?
What if we all lived like we had a groundhog in our back pocket, our very own inside scoop to the future? What if we lived like we had nothing to worry about and failure was impossible? What if we lived like great things are in store? Maybe we could predict our own futures.
A post full of questions today, that darned little rodent has given me a lot to ponder. One question still perplexes me…
How has the groundhog for hundreds of years known that February 2nd is ‘emerge from your hole day?” and what happens if he forgets to check his calendar are we doomed to seasonal uncertainty?

Happy GroundHog Day!!!!

The Kids at the Wiarton Willie - Groundhog monument!