A Small World Away

We are so small, in reality, in comparison to the world that arrives on our doorsteps each morning captured in newsprint or the sensationalized visuals that flash from TV and computer screens. We are so much smaller than the world that rests in the palm of our hands, blips and beeps at the touch of a finger and disappears with a swipe, freeing us to go on about our beautiful days. Our world is so easy to share, observe, mourn and protest; we can see it all with a click, gather opinions, predictions and insight. But we have no more power as giants looking into a snow-globe on humanity than we had as ants when the world was massive and separated by the slow arrival of news and our vast detachment from conflict.

This devastated me this morning when I read of further abductions of women and children in Nigeria. How, I wonder, can this also be the same world I live in, the one I raise my children in, shop in, picnic, party and pray in? How can differences in safety, peace, opportunity and dignity be so immense? How can the suffering of another human being not impact my world, when it fills hearts with anger, desperation, chaos, grief and despair and adds suffering to humankind? If there is a folly in our making the world so small it is that we are better able to see the crimes and devastation beyond our reach and our individual capabilities are no greater than when we were blind to them. The shrinking of our world has expanded exponentially the hopelessness we feel and I found myself wondering this morning “what can I offer to a broken heart, a fearful child or a tortured nation across the world; beyond learning about their struggle and making whatever supportive choices I can, where I am, and when I can?”

It feels so ineffective.

My meditation prayer for today:

Take peace, hope and comfort from my own heart and send it to those who suffer. Send courage to the fearful and bravery to the hearts of leaders among common men.  If this request can save but one, let it be one who can save another and lessen more the suffering of our world.   

Namaste

Love

M

Sometimes You Have to Wrench on Life

There has been some very serious tinkering going on in our garage over the past couple of weeks. Apparently motorcycles, older ones like my husband’s particularly, have a personality; Mike’s is a bit of a prick with hypochondriac tendencies.  That’s a nice way of saying the damned thing doesn’t make caring for it easy and decided not to start this cycling season. (Story note: I’m going to use the phrase ‘the damn thing’ repeatedly throughout this piece as that is actually the name I have given Mike’s bike… mostly, except ‘damn’ has replaced a much ‘F’-ier 4 letter word—it’s a well-earned moniker)

Our goal is to have the damn thing running like a top before Friday 13^th so that Mike can make his ride to Port Dover.

There is a chasm of uncertainty and repair that spans the distance between ‘the damn thing won’t run’ and ‘Dover’.

I offered to help, but I didn’t really know what I was doing or in for.  Trying, testing, cleaning, replacing, repairing and rebuilding. There have been numerous trips to dealerships, chain stores and motorcycle graveyards to collect parts, tools and fluids. Hours have been spent pouring over repair manuals and grease-monkey forums. I’ll be honest here and admit that I never actually picked up a tool. My ‘help’ was mostly moral support with a side of reading and eyelash batting encouragement.  The air in the garage has been thick with smoke, heady with fumes and on more than one occasion —blue.

Sometimes a change works, sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes fixing one issue sheds a bright white light on another problem. While I’ve hit the wall of ‘damn this’ more than a few times in the process I’m growing a deep affection for the iron beast; in comparison I am not fractionally as needy and temperamental—how can you not love a thing that makes you look like a dream to live with!

Slowly…hideously slowly, after painstaking hours of fiddling, Dover has come into sight.

We cracked a cold one, man cave style, last night in semi-celebration of our success in finally getting the engine running (if not purring). I stared at the damn thing and a wave of accomplishment washed over me. We did it—conquered the damn thing!

But the battle was a challenge. At first we stood around with our hands on our hips starring at the lifeless machine and surmised the many various possibilities why it wasn’t working. Next we tried a couple of quick fixes and proclaimed our frustration as each failed. We got a little indignant with not knowing why ‘the damned thing’ wouldn’t run. Then we walked away for a day or two ignoring the bike as though fixing it didn’t really matter. At some point however, reality set in and the acknowledgement that our days to Dover were dwindling took us back to the garage. It was time to do the hard work. We began digging, investigating, examining the parts, the systems, the problems, the potential failures. Little by little, the more we delved into the troubles and slowly repaired each kink in the chain things improved. First a spark, then a crank, then a choking, spitting, backfiring rumble followed by a stall, a return to hard starts and then back again to good ignition, a high idle and a stall. Eventually though, through determination we’ve made it to the miraculous stage of ‘tweaking’! Hallelujah, raise the roof and pass the gravy! (or in this instance degreasing hand cleaner)

Barring any further neurosis of the damn thing Mike will ride to Dover. This is a very good thing. Riding, Mike always claims, is how he gets his brain back. Blacktop therapy. We all need it—a way to find and feed our inner peace.

It seems to be the same with motorcycles as it is with people

The trick to finding inner peace is getting the bike to run.

You have to have work through the problems, investigate the source of emotional struggles, acknowledge and repair and be honest with your own short comings, take ownership for your part and ignite a desire to fix it. Through the problem not around it lays the path to achieving freedom and the goal. And yes sometimes it sucks, sometimes it sets you back, sometimes it has you doing and acknowledging things you wish you didn’t have to do or face. Sometimes you need help. But when you finally get through the process, when everything runs and the problem is not just behind you but repaired….—Man, life is a sweet ride!  

Take a chance...see where the road takes you.

Love

M

Life is about...Emerging a Happy Camper

The call came in around 6:15 last night, a tired voice on the other end of the phone whispered “We’re back, can you please come pick me up?”

I was excited to have my girl home. I arrived to the school within a few short minutes and was greeted by a group of weary and trudging teens who, without exception, were zapped. The hands unloading the travel van of expedition gear were not moving quite as quickly and enthusiastically as the ones which had loaded it 3 days earlier at the crack of dawn. There were still smiles on some faces though; mostly the grown-up faces, the teachers and the chaperones who survived two separate 3 day expeditions to Algonquin Park and about 60 teenage charges. Thought bubbles floating above their heads I imagined said things like ‘beer’, ‘shower’, and ‘investigate permanent contraceptive options’.

A parent of teenagers understands one cardinal rule: Stay in the car. I decided however that this was the one exception to the rule, today Kate would be happy to see me sooner than later. Physically and emotional exhausted kids love their moms even in a sea of peers, parental rule #2 Seize your opportunity!  So I got out of the car and waited on the edge of the crowd.

I recognized many of the kids and welcomed them home—“Did you have fun?”  Every single one answered “Yah, it was great!” followed up with glazed over exhausted smiles. Then Kate came into view, bag in hand and moving just enough to propel her body forward.

I asked the same question—“Did you have fun?” half expecting the same “Yah, it was great!” answer and half expecting the “No, it was stupid.” answer I got.  (for the record everything is stupid right now, has been for about 3 weeks – I can’t wait until stupid is over)

Parental guideline #3 encourages parents to shut up when ‘stupid’ things happen and let the details emerge in their own time. I smiled (mostly quietly) and loaded bags into the car. All the while wondering how every kid I asked had fun except mine; was I the Debbie-Downer’s mom?

The details did, as I expected, begin to emerge. There was bad weather – rain, thunderstorms and strong winds. The bug populous outranked human representation 3 zillion to one and was impervious to every cocktail of repellents. There was drama of the Boyfriend/girlfriend variety among some of the campers. Kate was up the entire last night of their voyage nursing/comforting her tent-mate who was upchucking from dusk till dawn (without even a good ‘tied-one-on’ story to minimize the trial of this circumstance-it was the flu).There is little wonder she was cranky, exhausted and starving. Did you know that the diet of wilderness camping, to accommodate canoe loads and ease of portaging, consists primarily of dried fruit, nuts and seeds? Coincidently these are also the top three items a person with braces cannot eat with any success. Apparently wilderness campers do not get braces or people with braces do not wilderness camp for fear of starvation.

As I listened to her adventure unfold over the next several hours the ‘It was great’ bits began emerging, much to my relief. I was sad to think that all of Kate’s preparation, excitement and anticipation for the trip had been a waste; to hear that it wasn’t all bad warmed my heart. It warmed my heart a little too that her initial response to my “Did you have fun?” question was so honest and forthright. By all accounts her trip was miserable. No less miserable than it had been for the girl who said “Yah, it was great” but was actually throwing up for 90% of the excursion. No less miserable than it was for the girl who said “Yah, it was great.” but spent the days preoccupied in a lovers quarrel. No less miserable for that girl’s boyfriend either I would guess.  By Kate’s account those campers were miserable from start to finish and I felt bad for them that they felt compelled to disguise their discontent with a less than honest reply.

It’s funny that we do this; say what we think people want to hear rather than say how we actually feel even when there is no danger of hurting the question asker’s feelings. I wonder if it makes us feel better or worse about our experience. According to my recent read The Antidote –by Oliver Burkeman, our ability to honestly confront our less than ideal outcomes and failures actually helps improve our appreciation of them. I think this could very likely be accurate. As Kate relived all the ‘stupid-ness’ of her adventure it seemed to become less stupid and more adventure.

When my kids go away on one of these types of adventures I always wonder what their/our lesson will be. This has been a great one—it would have been so easy for Kate’s experience to remain a bad memory. There is a sticking point between acknowledging the misery and moving past it to identify the good bits. You can see people get trapped every day in this pit, clinging to miserable events and memories. It seems so much easier to recount our despair or pretend it doesn’t exist with a “Yah, it was great.” than to work our way through it to a place where our adventure can be appreciated from both ends of the spectrum, as a complete experience where the bad illuminates the good more intensely. I am very proud of Kate for completing the process—for learning something more important than how to make a fire in a thunderstorm, for learning how to make a memory if not great at least salvageable.

We’ll see what Ethan’s lesson is for us when he returns from his camping expedition on Friday night….I can hardly wait! 

Camp On! 

Love 

M

90

It’s a number—the number actually that has been swirling around in my head since yesterday morning’s shower. Don’t ask me why stupid insights hit me in the shower—but I always appreciate my brain’s attempt to detract attention from my mismanaged curves.

Did you know that 90 is the magic number? I learned this sitting behind my desk on the fringes of Insurance and Financial Advisor-ship. 90 is the industry standard. When clients want to know how long their retirement money will last or how long they can expect to need insurance coverage for, the industry guesses the most likely oldest you will live to be. That number is 90. An age no doubt calculated on averages, variables and statistics because that is how the insurance industry does everything. My short tenure experiencing their capability of prediction and accounting leads me to believe that it’s probably a very accurate number to support the average. Arguably 90 is a pretty good number.

Unless you are standing in the shower on the morning of the birthday hurling you into your 45^th year of life, mid lather I realized that I am exactly halfway to my end-date. This came out the first time as “I’m Half-way dead.” I revised it to “I’ve lived half of my life.” which still didn’t sit perfectly well with me. I tried “I’ve lived more days than I probably have left” that almost worked except it got me thinking that I could have far less days even than that if I’m not on track to hit the magic average. I turned the water up a little hotter to sweat out some excess excess toxins and made a mental note to walk the dog and eat more kale.

I let a more troublesome thought than dying wash over me (which wasn’t difficult; dying doesn’t scare me like it used to—I learned this on the way up).  The scarier thought that hit me was…. “What am I going to do with the second half of my life?” If I am in the middle does this mean that I’m on the summit? that the proverbial ‘all downhill from here’ applies?  I’ve never thought about life in that pictorial sense (see illustration below…on account of I just thought of it like that).

Illustration Below

I have a really difficult time seeing it playing out this way, I’m more of a ‘half way up the climb’ kind of girl (refer to clever Pictionary rendering B below).

Clever Pictionary Rendering 'B'

But I can’t help but contemplate as I take a minute to look over what I’ve already traversed— “What does this mean? Life has been pretty incredible so far; filled with marriage and motherhood, learning, growing, losing, loving, triumphs and challenges. If it only gets better what am I in for?” question—exclamation—question mark. Looking down below I send my gaze skyward for a moment “Are you sure you can top that?”

I can almost hear God laughing in reply.

A couple of the things I’ve learned on the challenging climb; it’s okay to be a little fearless and that the worst almost always never  happens,  what you need never really leaves you and love is our only purpose—beyond these notes I’ve learned that the very best things always arrive wrapped in surprise and tied with faith.

Have a little.

Onward and upward with the journey! 

Love 

M

Spring Breaks

Spring Break started today. I'm so excited.The kids are home and up at the crack of "why don't you get out of bed like this on a school day?" There are plans on every child and teenager's agenda just waiting to be crushed by the reality check of Mom and her trusty fiscal strategy and acceptable risk policy. All in all the air is electric with the excitement of freedom. A quick poll and the number one reason kids are happy for March Break....the actual break. The break from teachers, homework, early bedtimes and early mornings, the break from routine. And they are going to get it--the break. I'm going to, this year, just like in years past allow them (within safety and financial restraints, of course) to do what they want, enjoy what they want and thoroughly escape from school and routines. There will be video games and hockey games, eating Nutella out of the jar and lounging in PJs all day. It's not the way every parent views the March Break opportunity but I think it's incredibly important to return to the basics of just being a kid. It's a fresh start, it's self care, it's a great way to prepare for the second half of the school year. It's Detoxification! 

Get in on the act! Beyond staying in your PJs until 3 and watching movie marathons check out some of my favourite ways to Detox everyday life...

For the Body

I start mine this coming week. A real food detox similar to one I did last spring but I found this Book (via Dr. Oz) that feels like a real and do-able cleanse for my family who cannot realistically survive or navigate a harsh regiment of a juice cleanse or other fad.

10 Day Detox

For the Home

Open the windows, change the furnace filter, fill the halls with fresh air! Wash comforters and drapes. Clean out the cleaners and replace some of the harsh chemical ones with natural alternatives where you can. This is something that is getting easier and more affordable as more mainstream natural products come on to the market. I admit, my use of natural cleaners is equal to my ability to recycle; good intentions meet realistic manageability. But there are some great ideas to implement where you can.
Natural Cleaning Recipes

For Relationships

Okay, I don’t have a link for this one but I know from experience that sometimes the very best thing you can do for your relationships with family and friends is to step back, take a break. I always find I appreciate everyone a little more after a pause. Do this often and when you are happy with people so that while you are ‘away’ you are rejuvenating not stewing. Taking this break when you’re angry is toxic not detoxing.

Social Media Detox

This is vitally important in today’s connectedness; so important that I try to do it once a week. I leave the media for a day. It’s hard and I’m not always successful but I try. Could you do it? 24 hours without Facebook, twitter, texting, Pinterest, Instagram. Could you eat a meal without posting a picture of it first or hang out with friends without ‘checking-in’? Could you not ‘selfie’ for a day? It’s harder than you think but sooooo good for your mental health. In social media we are always comparing ourselves to the very best of everyone else’s life (nobody posts reality). Detox, enjoy your own life, compare your happiness to…well—how happy you are. If you can’t manage a day each week, at the very least commit to a weekend each month.
Social Media Detox

In the end Detoxing is like cleaning out your closet and getting rid of all the things you don’t wear anymore; it opens you up, makes you feel wonderful, physically and mentally. It makes room for new and wonderful experiences. Above all it is a way of loving yourself that can improve your happiness, patience, health and zest for life!

Here’s to fresh starts…and spring breaks!

Happy Weekend J

Love

M

Eye Off The Prize

One of my favourite moments of any day is the time I spend on my yoga mat. I practice in my living room because that is where I am comfortable and where the only one who might see me is the dog (who incidentally, does not care that I pose in my pj’s or house pants not Lululemon).

There is a happiness that overcomes my spirit when I settle myself down on the mat, a smile that lights up from the inside and a pride in taking the time to care for myself. I love the pace of Hatha and the patience of the movements and I love the message delivered by my instructor today…..

“In your practice today I want you to focus on wilful determination and non-concern for results”

What a beautiful way to treat yourself.

The statement is a simple reminder that there are two aspects to every undertaking; the effort and the success. Being in a mindful state asks us always to be focused on the effort. What a great relief of pressure it is to give yourself permission to concern yourself only with the action and effort at hand understanding that the results or success will determine themselves. If you love what you are doing success is a natural consequence.

Most successful people will tell you that the success they’ve ended up with looks nothing like the success they set out to achieve. In most cases it surpasses anything they could have limited themselves to in their wildest dreams or think-tank sessions. In most cases people find themselves surprised by the results.

They are not alone, I find myself astounded when I suddenly realize that I am looking at my own ass.

The truth is that if I set out focused on making this happen I would be celebrating my wretched failure in traction, and gulping down a Robaxacet cocktail.

But by simply keeping my focus on the effort, the breath, the push and surrender of the instructed posture… to my amazement I find myself in the most astounding postures!

This is the beauty of yoga. Success or failure is never a goal but success always emerges; much to my surprise and generally doubled when I manage to untangle myself back out of any given pretzel pose.

I love the line the instructor leaves with as the session ends as well…

“Maintain this subtle state of mind and carry it with you throughout your day”

And suddenly yoga is right up there with coffee in the ‘must have’s’ of a successful day.

Happy Pancake Tuesday!

Love

M

I Quit Winter

I woke up this morning and peeked out the curtains of my front window—snow. The same snow that has been there piled higher than my porch railing since Mother Nature declared winter months ago. The same pile just a smidgen higher and smidgen brighter with a fresh layer of powder dusting the top. I pulled my head back from the window and closed the gap in the curtain. “Don’t look.” I warned the dog.  To which he set his head back down on his blanket with an audible ‘sigh’. I love how he trusts me to be completely honest with him.

I went to my computer and opened up the ‘Weather to come’ report on line. I almost wish I didn’t need to know…but the rink demands some insight. Rain, snow, ice pellets, temps hovering at a balmy -4 with a return to sub-zero double digits before the end of the 7 day outlook.  I close the page—I can’t look.

My humour wanes as steam wafts from my brewing coffee, while outside the window snow gusts about—blowing off the roof in blustery puffs. In the bathroom I can feel a cool draft leaking in through the window as I try desperately to indulge in a hot shower.

I’m at the threshold, on the brink, ready to break.

I don’t want to see another flake or lift another shovel. I am tired of looking at my winter coat and making sure everyone’s mittens are accounted for before I leave for work. My neighbour is really getting on my nerves with his need to ‘Scrape—scrape—scrape’ his windshield every morning and remind me we are still frozen. I detest how weathermen are making up words like ‘snow-showers’ to trick us into thinking we are getting something new.  I don’t want to see my breath anymore or my kids names etched on fogged up windows. I’m sick of cocoa and the guy with the ear to ear grin who wanders up and down the sidewalk all day just blowing snow. Is it technically homicide if I kill a snowman?

What I really want to see is my garage floor—not covered in snow and boots. I want to see the grass and birds and my patio. I want to spend time in flip-flops and sunscreen. The only ice I want to see is the kind floating in my glass. I want to cry.

And I did for a moment this morning while I was dressing in yet another sweater and pants ensemble snug from hibernation and comfort food. A single tear of frustration hit my lip and I could taste the salt of a rimmed margarita glass—sipped on a patio bar in the comfort of friends while enjoying the glow of a 9pm sunset. I want to be warm. I want to ‘slip’ something on. I want summer.

I’m going to get it.

I decided on my walk from the closet to the kitchen that winter is dead to me. No more cocoa, no more stew, no more biscuit baking, no more sweater buying, no more liking snowmobiling, ice fishing, snow-shoeing post of ‘friends’. I’m moving all winter coats to the closet and hanging spring jackets on the foyer hall tree at the ready. I’m going to shave my legs and pits every day! I’m going to trade in my comfy-pants for yoga pants and start melting off my insulation. It’s time for a pedicure polished off in a bright pink hue.

Summer is coming—whether Mother Nature is ready for it or not—and when she finally shows up with her UV index, smog and humidity warnings…I’ll be waiting in my lounge chair around a campfire fueled by the snow pants of 2013 with a smile on my face. BooYA! Mother Nature….glad you could make it to my party!

   

In the words of one of my favourite quotes from Dr. Wayne Dwyer…

Doesn't look like winter anymore! 

I hope you can quit winter too.

Love
M

Getting the Pricker Out of My Sock

Every once in a while a single phrase in the vast sea of human communication sticks out and irritates me like a ‘pricker’ that gets stuck in your sock. Until I get rid of the ‘thing’ I can hardly focus on anything else.

Today’s phrase……

“That’s good enough.”

Are we serious about this?

In what world is it okay to run around doing everything half assed? I think I might do this more than I realize.

I watched The Lone Ranger on Sunday evening with my family and I can tell you I was pretty disappointed when Johnny Depp’s hysterical portrayal of Tonto was cut short by faulty technology.  I got 83%. It was a good movie at 83% it would have been a great movie at 100%. I just keep thinking—the ‘whole assed’ movie would have been fantastic!

If we are going to say “that’s good enough”--Why don’t we just be honest and say:

“I could do better” Or “I’m giving it 83%”

Why don’t we be really honest and admit that the person on the receiving end of our efforts is really not that important. Whether that person is a stranger, a friend, a boss, a co-worker, family member or even ourselves—let’s face it, when we say ‘that’s good enough’ aren’t we really saying “You aren’t worth the trouble—you aren’t worth my time, my effort, my energy.”

Is it okay for your heart surgeon to say “That’s good enough.”? How about your mechanic, is it okay with you if he puts your brakes back together and says “that’s good enough.”? Do you want to travel in a plane engineered by someone who said “that’s good enough” right before they signed off on the blueprints? Would you eat at a restaurant if you knew the person in charge of sanitation and food safety says “that’s good enough.”?

Does great effort only matter if lives hang in the balance?

Is ‘good enough’ okay when the consequences are small—like painting the bedroom or washing the car? Aren’t you still trading your time and attention for the act—Aren’t you worth achieving the best results for your time? Isn’t the person on the receiving end worth your efforts even when the act is small?

I wonder if you can make a good life giving all the little things 83% couldn’t you make a great life giving everything 100%?

I’m taking the pricker out of my sock. “That’s good enough” has to go—out of the phrase book…. The next time I want to say it, I’m going to keep working. The next time someone asks me to validate their 83% effort with a “That’s good enough, don’t you think?” I’m going to ask …“Is it?”

Time to demand and create some great whole assed lives!

…..And find out how Tonto survives the last 17% of the Lone Ranger. ---your 83% Cineplex is not good enough—not good enough in deed.

Happy Monday

Love 

M

How Many Bad Days Do You Get In a Good Life?

If you have a good life .....I really need your help! Will you to join me in an experiment?

All I want is 30 days and total honesty. All you need is a jar and two different colours of 

beans (or buttons or fish gravel or jelly beans or two different types of Cheerios….whatever….......you get it) 30 of each.

The rest is easy:

- Put the jar on your bathroom counter.

- At night after you brush your teeth or take off your make-up or remove your contacts;                whatever it is you do just before you go to bed….put a bean in the jar.

If you’ve had a good day put a white bean in the jar.
If you’ve had a bad day put a black bean in the jar.

Don’t judge or count or over think and try to turn a black bean into a white bean….just pick 

a bean and put it in the jar.


That’s it…

At the end of 30 days dump the beans on the counter, take a picture and email it to me.

Here's my experiment ready to go.
Notice the white beans? Notice the green lentils (on account of all my black beans are canned) Notice the jar? 

Thanks for your help! 

Love 

M