Friday, February 27, 2009
ugh...
It’s raining today. In February.
I’m sure that this may not sound surprising to some but this is Ottawa. It doesn’t rain in Ottawa in February! Normally, we would either be buried in four feet of snow or enduring temperatures that are so cold, it’s not actually able to snow! But it never rains!
I’ve been home sick for the past two days and ending the week on a rainy note seems appropriate in its own lazy and lethargic way. Being sick is really frustrating to me because I’m normally such a busy and active person that the idea of being cooped up and forced to sit on the couch just upsets me! Ironically enough though, in the midst of my healthy, busy life…I often catch myself thinking how dreamy it would be to have an afternoon to just sit on my couch doing nothing. Funny.
Given that I was caged at home, I took the opportunity to watch countless episodes of Sex & the City. I have to admit…it was fun! I started watching it back when I was still single and living on my own. I happen to be at the video store one night when I stumbled upon it. It was a really hot summer night in mid-July and I had just come home from having dinner with some friends. It was already late but for some reason, the night hawk in me felt compelled to stop and rent a video on my way home. I can remember sitting in my sweltering bachelor apartment, with my curtains blowing in the breeze, until all hours of the night. Long after the rest of the neighborhood had gone to sleep, I found myself perched up in my bed with my favourite ice cream in hand, laughing hysterically at the dating mishaps of my new friends.
And so it began. The girls have been a permanent structure in my life ever since and they never fail to remind me of those long summer nights when I lived vicariously through them on the streets of New York City. Of course, watching it curled up with a heating pad and a sore throat isn’t quite the same but it does bring some cheer to an otherwise miserable reason to not be at work!
Thanks girls…you’re fabulous!
I’m sure that this may not sound surprising to some but this is Ottawa. It doesn’t rain in Ottawa in February! Normally, we would either be buried in four feet of snow or enduring temperatures that are so cold, it’s not actually able to snow! But it never rains!
I’ve been home sick for the past two days and ending the week on a rainy note seems appropriate in its own lazy and lethargic way. Being sick is really frustrating to me because I’m normally such a busy and active person that the idea of being cooped up and forced to sit on the couch just upsets me! Ironically enough though, in the midst of my healthy, busy life…I often catch myself thinking how dreamy it would be to have an afternoon to just sit on my couch doing nothing. Funny.
Given that I was caged at home, I took the opportunity to watch countless episodes of Sex & the City. I have to admit…it was fun! I started watching it back when I was still single and living on my own. I happen to be at the video store one night when I stumbled upon it. It was a really hot summer night in mid-July and I had just come home from having dinner with some friends. It was already late but for some reason, the night hawk in me felt compelled to stop and rent a video on my way home. I can remember sitting in my sweltering bachelor apartment, with my curtains blowing in the breeze, until all hours of the night. Long after the rest of the neighborhood had gone to sleep, I found myself perched up in my bed with my favourite ice cream in hand, laughing hysterically at the dating mishaps of my new friends.
And so it began. The girls have been a permanent structure in my life ever since and they never fail to remind me of those long summer nights when I lived vicariously through them on the streets of New York City. Of course, watching it curled up with a heating pad and a sore throat isn’t quite the same but it does bring some cheer to an otherwise miserable reason to not be at work!
Thanks girls…you’re fabulous!
Thursday, February 26, 2009
ash wednesday...
I was very surprised last week when I got an invitation to attend an Ash Wednesday service at our church. Could it be that Lent was here already? Sure enough, a quick glance at my calendar reminded me that it was indeed that time of year!
I always love Lent. I consider it a bit of a “second chance” for all of the resolutions that fail to last much beyond February! It was six years ago that I did my first communion in the Catholic Church and Lent was the last stretch of a year spent contemplating and questioning.
I get asked a lot why I chose to do such a thing as an adult. So many people are turned off by the church and for those that weren’t raised in religious families; it seems even harder for them to comprehend why I would make the conscious decision to pursue religion at all.
The only answer that I can provide is that I didn’t choose the Catholic Church…it chose me.
As “vague” as that may sound…it’s true! I used to go into churches all the time when I was young. I would sneak in when no one else was there and just sit in the pews for as long as I could. I was captivated by the silence and the peacefulness. I felt as though it literally radiated grace.
It didn’t go to my first Mass until the year prior to my communion and after that, there was no turning back. I proceeded to spend the next year preparing myself to join the church. It wasn’t always an easy road; some days I left in tears and other times I left in doubt but at the end of the day, the month, the year…I left a better person. I wasn’t just a better person for having followed through but more so for having challenged myself along the way.
I find that a lot of people bail on things at the first sight of imperfection; the first tinge of uncertainty or conflict, whether it be internally or not. I think that we tend to surround ourselves with things that support our beliefs and not often enough, allow someone or something to question the very things that hold us together. The more challenged I was…the stronger my conviction became, though certainly not without plenty of consideration. Some issues were harder (and still are) to grapple with than others but ultimately…it is an imperfect institution made of imperfect people that has made me, a better person.
But alas, I digress…
Lent is here and it’s time to pull out the more disciplined side of our selves, which for me, isn’t always easy! I’m a girl who really responds well to structure and limits but deprivation…not so much! Even though it’s only forty days, the very thought of what I’m not allowed to have tends to leave me craving it even more. Though I suppose that is indeed the entire point! I’ve decided to give up coffee this year for Lent. Believe me, I’m not thrilled about this but I feel the need to make up for our lack of participation during last year’s Lenten season! It was almost shameful how indulgent we were last year! Between our house, our trip and all the wonderful food in between...it may have actually become the first official "anti-Lent"! Truth be told, while I certainly love my morning mocha on the way to work, I’m also eager to give my body a break from the artificial vitality that comes with coffee. I figured that with all of the other changes I’m making in my life right now, letting my body go back to it’s natural rhythm for a while seems appropriate.
Now, I say this having been only two days into Lent…but we’ll see how delightful an idea it really is in another two weeks!!! We’ll also see how delighted my co-workers are with the idea in two weeks!!!
I think that there was a reason why Jesus spent forty days in the desert alone…
I always love Lent. I consider it a bit of a “second chance” for all of the resolutions that fail to last much beyond February! It was six years ago that I did my first communion in the Catholic Church and Lent was the last stretch of a year spent contemplating and questioning.
I get asked a lot why I chose to do such a thing as an adult. So many people are turned off by the church and for those that weren’t raised in religious families; it seems even harder for them to comprehend why I would make the conscious decision to pursue religion at all.
The only answer that I can provide is that I didn’t choose the Catholic Church…it chose me.
As “vague” as that may sound…it’s true! I used to go into churches all the time when I was young. I would sneak in when no one else was there and just sit in the pews for as long as I could. I was captivated by the silence and the peacefulness. I felt as though it literally radiated grace.
It didn’t go to my first Mass until the year prior to my communion and after that, there was no turning back. I proceeded to spend the next year preparing myself to join the church. It wasn’t always an easy road; some days I left in tears and other times I left in doubt but at the end of the day, the month, the year…I left a better person. I wasn’t just a better person for having followed through but more so for having challenged myself along the way.
I find that a lot of people bail on things at the first sight of imperfection; the first tinge of uncertainty or conflict, whether it be internally or not. I think that we tend to surround ourselves with things that support our beliefs and not often enough, allow someone or something to question the very things that hold us together. The more challenged I was…the stronger my conviction became, though certainly not without plenty of consideration. Some issues were harder (and still are) to grapple with than others but ultimately…it is an imperfect institution made of imperfect people that has made me, a better person.
But alas, I digress…
Lent is here and it’s time to pull out the more disciplined side of our selves, which for me, isn’t always easy! I’m a girl who really responds well to structure and limits but deprivation…not so much! Even though it’s only forty days, the very thought of what I’m not allowed to have tends to leave me craving it even more. Though I suppose that is indeed the entire point! I’ve decided to give up coffee this year for Lent. Believe me, I’m not thrilled about this but I feel the need to make up for our lack of participation during last year’s Lenten season! It was almost shameful how indulgent we were last year! Between our house, our trip and all the wonderful food in between...it may have actually become the first official "anti-Lent"! Truth be told, while I certainly love my morning mocha on the way to work, I’m also eager to give my body a break from the artificial vitality that comes with coffee. I figured that with all of the other changes I’m making in my life right now, letting my body go back to it’s natural rhythm for a while seems appropriate.
Now, I say this having been only two days into Lent…but we’ll see how delightful an idea it really is in another two weeks!!! We’ll also see how delighted my co-workers are with the idea in two weeks!!!
I think that there was a reason why Jesus spent forty days in the desert alone…
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
the confidence of youth...
Did you know that I used to figure skate when I was younger?
I have been in love with the sport for as long as I could remember. As a little girl, I found myself mesmerized by the elegance of such a sport. I just couldn’t get enough of the speed, the gracefulness, the music…it seemed like the perfect union of art and athleticism, and it was certainly all too much for my little self to bear. So I started skating.
I have a picture of myself as a child bundled up in my snow suit, delicately balancing myself on the ice and having the biggest smile a four year old could possibly muster up. It turned out to be just one of many photos proving that being on the ice was one of my happiest places.
I spent a good few years skating as much as I could get away with; I would watch countless hours of tapes so I could see spins and jumps in slow motion; During high school, we had an outdoor rink across the street from us and any moment that wasn’t spent in class was spent there; Almost each night of the week, my Mom would drive me around to free skates at various arenas in town and spend two hours in the cold while I spun myself in circles determined to get each move right. Collectively, my parents nurtured my passion as though it was one of their own!
What compels me to think about this though is the fact that I didn’t have a coach or any formal training at all. In fact, just about all the odds for a competitive career were against me; most skaters are very small and petite…I was very tall and lengthy; most skaters start training at six or seven years of age…I was already in high school. And yet, all the while, it never occurred to me that I wouldn’t be able to do it. In fact, I don’t even remember caring at all what the “conventional” course of a skater’s career was…I just wanted to learn.
In time, I did end up getting formally trained and I also spent one evening sharing the ice with some of our country’s most celebrated figure skaters! In time, injury also prevailed and choices had to be made. In the end though, I’m well aware that it was my desire skate and not my fear of failure that enabled my love affair to exist at all.
Looking back, this fascinates me because I’ve discovered that I’ve grown out of this confidence. Sadly, I consider more the probability of something instead of the possibility and I realize now just how dangerous that can be. In my younger days, I just thought “someone has to do it…why not me?” and on I went…and it worked. I propelled myself into a determination that left no other options. It wasn’t necessarily the most conventional or the easiest…but it was my five loaves and two fishes; it’s what I had to offer at the time and God provided the rest.
I’m trying really hard to find that part of me again. My new endeavor, albeit exciting, feels so intimidating and overwhelming sometimes and I just want to find that unwavering conviction that that tells me anything is possible again. Learning something new as an adult seems so much scarier and daunting than it once did, and fear, in and of itself, provides its own obstacle when trying to acquire new knowledge. I feel like everyone around me knows so much more and that the only thing that I really do know…is that I have so much more I need to learn. This isn’t as encouraging a thought as it once was when I had fifteen extra years to learn it!!
Ah well…as Vincent Van Gogh once said “For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.”
I have been in love with the sport for as long as I could remember. As a little girl, I found myself mesmerized by the elegance of such a sport. I just couldn’t get enough of the speed, the gracefulness, the music…it seemed like the perfect union of art and athleticism, and it was certainly all too much for my little self to bear. So I started skating.
I have a picture of myself as a child bundled up in my snow suit, delicately balancing myself on the ice and having the biggest smile a four year old could possibly muster up. It turned out to be just one of many photos proving that being on the ice was one of my happiest places.
I spent a good few years skating as much as I could get away with; I would watch countless hours of tapes so I could see spins and jumps in slow motion; During high school, we had an outdoor rink across the street from us and any moment that wasn’t spent in class was spent there; Almost each night of the week, my Mom would drive me around to free skates at various arenas in town and spend two hours in the cold while I spun myself in circles determined to get each move right. Collectively, my parents nurtured my passion as though it was one of their own!
What compels me to think about this though is the fact that I didn’t have a coach or any formal training at all. In fact, just about all the odds for a competitive career were against me; most skaters are very small and petite…I was very tall and lengthy; most skaters start training at six or seven years of age…I was already in high school. And yet, all the while, it never occurred to me that I wouldn’t be able to do it. In fact, I don’t even remember caring at all what the “conventional” course of a skater’s career was…I just wanted to learn.
In time, I did end up getting formally trained and I also spent one evening sharing the ice with some of our country’s most celebrated figure skaters! In time, injury also prevailed and choices had to be made. In the end though, I’m well aware that it was my desire skate and not my fear of failure that enabled my love affair to exist at all.
Looking back, this fascinates me because I’ve discovered that I’ve grown out of this confidence. Sadly, I consider more the probability of something instead of the possibility and I realize now just how dangerous that can be. In my younger days, I just thought “someone has to do it…why not me?” and on I went…and it worked. I propelled myself into a determination that left no other options. It wasn’t necessarily the most conventional or the easiest…but it was my five loaves and two fishes; it’s what I had to offer at the time and God provided the rest.
I’m trying really hard to find that part of me again. My new endeavor, albeit exciting, feels so intimidating and overwhelming sometimes and I just want to find that unwavering conviction that that tells me anything is possible again. Learning something new as an adult seems so much scarier and daunting than it once did, and fear, in and of itself, provides its own obstacle when trying to acquire new knowledge. I feel like everyone around me knows so much more and that the only thing that I really do know…is that I have so much more I need to learn. This isn’t as encouraging a thought as it once was when I had fifteen extra years to learn it!!
Ah well…as Vincent Van Gogh once said “For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.”
Monday, February 23, 2009
Thursday, February 19, 2009
camera happy...
I took this picture yesterday on my way to meet Steve after work. I was passing Major's Hill Park on my way across the river when I felt compelled to stop and get my camera out. What I love most about it is that if I had zoomed out just the tiniest bit, the picture would have been filled with buildings from Gatineau and downtown Ottawa!
I just love our city!
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
my happiness...
One day when I was about nine or ten years old, I dragged my little cousin out to the local park in our neighborhood with me so I could take pictures. I had been given a dinky little disposable camera earlier that week and I couldn’t wait to use it. My poor cousin was so patient with me and at the tender age of five years old…that’s a lot to ask! The pictures were awful! Truly…they were just terrible! But I continued to love beautiful images and spent my life staring at them longingly.
I have an entire box full of totally random pictures that I’ve pulled out of magazines for the last ten years. I had no reason for keeping them other than the fact that they were beautiful and I couldn’t live without them. Steve and I collect photography from all over the world and have filled our home with images that someone else once saw and thought to capture. Photographs have permeated my life and sometimes, without me even knowing it!
I have to admit though that since I was young, I’ve seldom picked up a camera. My Mom gave me a beautiful camera when I graduated from university and I gave it back to her because it stressed me out to have it and not know how to use it…but I never bothered to learn! Even when we bought our SLR camera, it took me months before I would even go near it. I was afraid. I was afraid of not being good at it. It’s hard to explain but I was afraid of loving something so much and not being able to contribute to it in my own way. I seemed easier to me to imagine that I would be good at it then risk the possibility of actually being bad at it! I know, it’s not easy to rationalize but for lack of a better explanation, my camera scared me...it still does sometimes!
A couple of years ago, my sister-in-law was getting married and asked me if I would take pictures of her wedding. Terrifying? Yes. A sister that I can say no to? Not so much. So I agreed, along with my brother-in-law, to tag team her wedding in hopes of capturing images that would somehow do justice to their beautiful occasion.
She loved them! And because she was happy…I was happy! And I had fun! I was happy with my camera in my hand and free reign over everything happening around me.
Here’s the thing though…in the last month or so, I’ve been asked to photograph two more weddings! Back to back weekends in late May and early June. And though the very thought of it makes me want to throw up (because I’m just that nervous)…I can’t seem to say no. How could I? How could I tell the universe that I’m not going to repay my little cousin’s (not so little anymore!) efforts when I was manically clicking away on a disposable camera? It would almost seem rude!
So off I will go, camera in hand, to try to make something beautiful of an even more beautiful day. I will pull myself up by my bootstraps…tell the little girl in me to not be afraid and just let my eyes do the talking.
But still…a shot of tequila couldn’t hurt!
I have an entire box full of totally random pictures that I’ve pulled out of magazines for the last ten years. I had no reason for keeping them other than the fact that they were beautiful and I couldn’t live without them. Steve and I collect photography from all over the world and have filled our home with images that someone else once saw and thought to capture. Photographs have permeated my life and sometimes, without me even knowing it!
I have to admit though that since I was young, I’ve seldom picked up a camera. My Mom gave me a beautiful camera when I graduated from university and I gave it back to her because it stressed me out to have it and not know how to use it…but I never bothered to learn! Even when we bought our SLR camera, it took me months before I would even go near it. I was afraid. I was afraid of not being good at it. It’s hard to explain but I was afraid of loving something so much and not being able to contribute to it in my own way. I seemed easier to me to imagine that I would be good at it then risk the possibility of actually being bad at it! I know, it’s not easy to rationalize but for lack of a better explanation, my camera scared me...it still does sometimes!
A couple of years ago, my sister-in-law was getting married and asked me if I would take pictures of her wedding. Terrifying? Yes. A sister that I can say no to? Not so much. So I agreed, along with my brother-in-law, to tag team her wedding in hopes of capturing images that would somehow do justice to their beautiful occasion.
She loved them! And because she was happy…I was happy! And I had fun! I was happy with my camera in my hand and free reign over everything happening around me.
Here’s the thing though…in the last month or so, I’ve been asked to photograph two more weddings! Back to back weekends in late May and early June. And though the very thought of it makes me want to throw up (because I’m just that nervous)…I can’t seem to say no. How could I? How could I tell the universe that I’m not going to repay my little cousin’s (not so little anymore!) efforts when I was manically clicking away on a disposable camera? It would almost seem rude!
So off I will go, camera in hand, to try to make something beautiful of an even more beautiful day. I will pull myself up by my bootstraps…tell the little girl in me to not be afraid and just let my eyes do the talking.
But still…a shot of tequila couldn’t hurt!
Monday, February 16, 2009
for my texan friend...
"In the depth of winter I have finally learned
that there within me lay an invincible summer."
~ Albert Camus
that there within me lay an invincible summer."
~ Albert Camus
Friday, February 13, 2009
how do i love thee...
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, --- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! --- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)
I shall but love thee better after death.
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)
Thursday, February 12, 2009
monkey mind...
I haven’t been sleeping very well this past week. I have, as my favourite author would say, Monkey Mind! When the lights go out, my mind seems to swing from one branch to the next in a flurry of random thought until I suddenly notice that it’s the middle of the night and despite my rapidly closing eyelids, I’m still wide awake! I have a lot on my mind right now and it appears that my conscious is in a rather big hurry to figure these things out. My currently exhausted body is starting to pay the price for it.
Anyways, as I was awake last night, I started to think about my Grandma Mae. It was actually in the midst of reading a new book that made me think of her; Steve was sleeping soundly next to me and when I opened up my book, the spine make a little creaking sound and I could suddenly smell the fresh new pages. I felt like I was instantaneously brought back to my childhood!
My grandmother lived with me and my Mom for awhile when I was in elementary school. Her bedroom was at the front of our house and she had this one chair that she sat in all day long. It was strategically positioned in the corner of her room so that she could look out the front windows onto the street as well as look out her bedroom door at what else was going on in the house. My memories of my grandmother are numerous and plenty but because I was so young, they are also rather selective. My time spent with her was always wonderful but the time that she spent with us in our home was what I remember most.
My grandmother was a hilarious woman! She was always very old to me – very fragile in her own way. Her skin seemed thin, almost translucent, and her frame seemed so tiny. She moved slowly and spoke quietly…she was one of the gentlest people I’ve ever known. Contrary to that though, she also smoked like a chimney, was content to live off a diet made up only of chocolate chip cookies and she could drink anyone under the table! I’m not kidding…this woman knew how to hold her liquor!!
What I remember most though was her love of stories. She loved books and she read all the time. She would sit in her brown chair in the corner with one of her cats on her lap and she would literally read for hours on end, going through countless books at any given time. Her room was always filled with books from the library that had those plastic protective covers on them and the card in the back that had the return due date stamped on them! Her room smelled like books and I loved it!
I’m sure that my love of the written word has so much to do with having had her in my life.
When her eyesight started to go, she acquired this huge magnifying glass with a light on it to help her read. Eventually her eyesight disappeared all together and she was forced to listen to books on tape instead. I know that she still enjoyed the stories but I also know that she missed feeling the pages between her fingers, seeing the words in front of her and most of all, that unique smell of ink on paper. Her hearing faded with the time but she listened to her books on tape until the very end. It was sad for me to know that old age cost my grandmother one of the things that she loved the most. She still had her taste buds though and that meant that she still had her chocolate chip cookies!
So I found myself thinking of her last night as I cracked the spine of my new book. I’m reading Water for Elephants right now. The author, Sara Gruen, grew up in London, Ontario and went to the University of Ottawa…just like me! I wonder if our common journeys and the fact that I received three copies of it for my birthday means someone is trying to tell me something?!?! Clearly, the universe is insistent that I read this and what can I say…I’m always happy to oblige!
My book doesn’t quite smell the same way that my grandmother’s books did but few of them ever do. You have to dig deep in the old piles at the library to get that smell anymore. But I certainly enjoyed my Monkey Mind a little bit more yesterday as I remembered that wonderful woman who unknowingly brought literature and stories into my life.
It’s comforting to know that anytime I feel sleepless in the night, I can simply crack the spine and know that I’m not reading alone. She probably would have been up in the middle of the night too! Reading a good book no doubt!
Anyways, as I was awake last night, I started to think about my Grandma Mae. It was actually in the midst of reading a new book that made me think of her; Steve was sleeping soundly next to me and when I opened up my book, the spine make a little creaking sound and I could suddenly smell the fresh new pages. I felt like I was instantaneously brought back to my childhood!
My grandmother lived with me and my Mom for awhile when I was in elementary school. Her bedroom was at the front of our house and she had this one chair that she sat in all day long. It was strategically positioned in the corner of her room so that she could look out the front windows onto the street as well as look out her bedroom door at what else was going on in the house. My memories of my grandmother are numerous and plenty but because I was so young, they are also rather selective. My time spent with her was always wonderful but the time that she spent with us in our home was what I remember most.
My grandmother was a hilarious woman! She was always very old to me – very fragile in her own way. Her skin seemed thin, almost translucent, and her frame seemed so tiny. She moved slowly and spoke quietly…she was one of the gentlest people I’ve ever known. Contrary to that though, she also smoked like a chimney, was content to live off a diet made up only of chocolate chip cookies and she could drink anyone under the table! I’m not kidding…this woman knew how to hold her liquor!!
What I remember most though was her love of stories. She loved books and she read all the time. She would sit in her brown chair in the corner with one of her cats on her lap and she would literally read for hours on end, going through countless books at any given time. Her room was always filled with books from the library that had those plastic protective covers on them and the card in the back that had the return due date stamped on them! Her room smelled like books and I loved it!
I’m sure that my love of the written word has so much to do with having had her in my life.
When her eyesight started to go, she acquired this huge magnifying glass with a light on it to help her read. Eventually her eyesight disappeared all together and she was forced to listen to books on tape instead. I know that she still enjoyed the stories but I also know that she missed feeling the pages between her fingers, seeing the words in front of her and most of all, that unique smell of ink on paper. Her hearing faded with the time but she listened to her books on tape until the very end. It was sad for me to know that old age cost my grandmother one of the things that she loved the most. She still had her taste buds though and that meant that she still had her chocolate chip cookies!
So I found myself thinking of her last night as I cracked the spine of my new book. I’m reading Water for Elephants right now. The author, Sara Gruen, grew up in London, Ontario and went to the University of Ottawa…just like me! I wonder if our common journeys and the fact that I received three copies of it for my birthday means someone is trying to tell me something?!?! Clearly, the universe is insistent that I read this and what can I say…I’m always happy to oblige!
My book doesn’t quite smell the same way that my grandmother’s books did but few of them ever do. You have to dig deep in the old piles at the library to get that smell anymore. But I certainly enjoyed my Monkey Mind a little bit more yesterday as I remembered that wonderful woman who unknowingly brought literature and stories into my life.
It’s comforting to know that anytime I feel sleepless in the night, I can simply crack the spine and know that I’m not reading alone. She probably would have been up in the middle of the night too! Reading a good book no doubt!
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
a million little pieces...
A few years back, I was walking through a bookstore and stumbled upon this book that caught my attention. This is not an unusual occurrence for me as it tends to happen often but usually, I just take note of the book title and add it to my list of “must reads” for the near future. This one captured me though and I bought it right then and there on the spot. I began reading it that night and for the next week, I found myself on an emotional rollercoaster that left me completely captivated by the resilience of the human condition.
This book was called A Million Little Pieces by James Frey. It’s the memoir of a drug addict and his time spent in recovery. Really, it’s about our relationship with ourselves and the circumstances that can arise when we avoid the deep, dark places that our journey can often take us to. It’s riveting. It’s moving. It’s one of my very favourite books.
Shortly after I finished the book, the controversy started. A website called Smoking Gun had apparently uncovered discrepancies regarding some of the facts claimed in the book and this was leaving Oprah Winfrey, who had recently selected the book for her famous Book Club, a little bit disgruntled. Apparently Frey’s memories weren’t as factually accurate as Oprah would have liked and the dispute soon discredited not only an incredible writer but also his spectacular book.
But here’s the thing; this memory is being told by a man who spent a large part of his life highly intoxicated and under the influence of some very powerful drugs. I expect his memories to be somewhat skewed. I expect his memories to be a clouded variation of what really happened. I even expect some of his memories to be completely blocked in a desperate plea for self-preservation. That’s why it’s a memoir…because everyone’s view of the world is being seen through different eyes, with waves of different emotions, leaving us to witness very different moments in time. That is what it means to co-exist in this world together…the ability to merge our collective memories to create an experience of this madness we call life!
How often do two people interact in any given situation coming away from it with completely different experiences? Likely more times than we know! I believe that a great number of the world’s disputes are a result of this very phenomenon…the emotional attachment to our own personal experience that often leaves us reacting to a reality that may only exist to us. Our drug of choice in this case…? A lethal combination of past experiences and present expectations that will inevitably cloud our vision and alter the image before us.
I read once that our emotions are not reliable and shouldn’t be trusted because our emotions do not reflect reality and can lead us down a road that isn’t necessarily built on truth. I see the logic in such a statement but as a woman who feels life very strongly; that’s a pretty tall order! But I can also see how my emotions get me into trouble…how they can take over my entire being until I can see nothing else but my own truth…leaving me with my share of battle scars and searching for my next hit. With emotion running through my veins, in a world made for the sober…what’s a girl to do?!?! What’s any girl to do?
I have lived a life along side many other people…and we are different. Our memories are different, our experiences are different, our resulting character is different…but we are still here, in this life…together. We are all in recovery from something…together. We endure our own form of rehab hoping to be set free…together. And what would we be without that? What would we be without a life to connect us all…without a middle ground to call a truce…without twelve different steps to help lift us up a bit higher to a self that is bit more familiar?
We would be lost. We would be broken. We would be alone in our reality that no one else knows. We would, most definitely, be nothing more than a million little pieces.
This book was called A Million Little Pieces by James Frey. It’s the memoir of a drug addict and his time spent in recovery. Really, it’s about our relationship with ourselves and the circumstances that can arise when we avoid the deep, dark places that our journey can often take us to. It’s riveting. It’s moving. It’s one of my very favourite books.
Shortly after I finished the book, the controversy started. A website called Smoking Gun had apparently uncovered discrepancies regarding some of the facts claimed in the book and this was leaving Oprah Winfrey, who had recently selected the book for her famous Book Club, a little bit disgruntled. Apparently Frey’s memories weren’t as factually accurate as Oprah would have liked and the dispute soon discredited not only an incredible writer but also his spectacular book.
But here’s the thing; this memory is being told by a man who spent a large part of his life highly intoxicated and under the influence of some very powerful drugs. I expect his memories to be somewhat skewed. I expect his memories to be a clouded variation of what really happened. I even expect some of his memories to be completely blocked in a desperate plea for self-preservation. That’s why it’s a memoir…because everyone’s view of the world is being seen through different eyes, with waves of different emotions, leaving us to witness very different moments in time. That is what it means to co-exist in this world together…the ability to merge our collective memories to create an experience of this madness we call life!
How often do two people interact in any given situation coming away from it with completely different experiences? Likely more times than we know! I believe that a great number of the world’s disputes are a result of this very phenomenon…the emotional attachment to our own personal experience that often leaves us reacting to a reality that may only exist to us. Our drug of choice in this case…? A lethal combination of past experiences and present expectations that will inevitably cloud our vision and alter the image before us.
I read once that our emotions are not reliable and shouldn’t be trusted because our emotions do not reflect reality and can lead us down a road that isn’t necessarily built on truth. I see the logic in such a statement but as a woman who feels life very strongly; that’s a pretty tall order! But I can also see how my emotions get me into trouble…how they can take over my entire being until I can see nothing else but my own truth…leaving me with my share of battle scars and searching for my next hit. With emotion running through my veins, in a world made for the sober…what’s a girl to do?!?! What’s any girl to do?
I have lived a life along side many other people…and we are different. Our memories are different, our experiences are different, our resulting character is different…but we are still here, in this life…together. We are all in recovery from something…together. We endure our own form of rehab hoping to be set free…together. And what would we be without that? What would we be without a life to connect us all…without a middle ground to call a truce…without twelve different steps to help lift us up a bit higher to a self that is bit more familiar?
We would be lost. We would be broken. We would be alone in our reality that no one else knows. We would, most definitely, be nothing more than a million little pieces.
Sunday, February 08, 2009
25 random things about me...
{for those who aren't on facebook...}
1. When I was a little girl, I used to think that being vegetarian meant that you couldn't eat gummy bears or animal crackers
2. My name (Genevieve) is Gaelic for "White Wave"
3. During a psychological profile done during our marriage prep courses, it was concluded that my animal alter ego is a white wolf
4. I spent an entire year after the release of the movie American Pie being asked if I was related to Shannon Elizabeth
5. I have surprisingly long legs for my height...My husband is three inches taller than me and our legs are the same length!
6. My pet peeves are automated telephone systems and people with weak handshakes
7. My Mom once gave me a psychic reading for my birthday and the lady told me that I had been a very high profile political leader in a past life!
8. If I could live a totally different life without sacrificing anything I love...I would move to Maui and teach surfing (and maybe be in the sequel of Blue Crush while I'm at it!!!!)
9. I have a secret admiration for the inner workings of the drug trade
10. I talk to my cat a lot and there are moments when I'm sure he knows what I'm saying!
11. I want to go to Texas!
12. When I was young, I could recite, word for word, all six hours of the movie Anne of Green Gables (if you don't believe me...ask my Mom! She had to endure the torture of it any time we were in a car for long periods of time!!)
13. I have extreme Obsessive Compulsive Disorder about my hand writing. In university, I would re-write all of my notes after classes and if I made a mistake, instead of using white-out, I would start them all over again.
14. I once met a man named William Wallace!
15. I wish that I had blue eyes
16. Listening to rock music always makes me want to do one of two things; get drunk or run (I just can't explain it!!)!
17. I didn't get my driver's license until I was 25 years old
18. I think that Tom Cruise = CRAZY!
19. I have a rather irrational fear of flying over large bodies of water (that started around the same time I started watching LOST!!)
20. I am so in love with string music that I can seldom listen to it without crying
21. Ever since I was a little girl, I've had constant and repetitive dreams about my teeth falling out
22. I have an uncontrollable addiction to bookstores!
23. I am VERY self-conscious of my smile
24. I ran 863.7 kilometers in 2008 (it was a slow year!)
25. I can't remember life without the internet...
1. When I was a little girl, I used to think that being vegetarian meant that you couldn't eat gummy bears or animal crackers
2. My name (Genevieve) is Gaelic for "White Wave"
3. During a psychological profile done during our marriage prep courses, it was concluded that my animal alter ego is a white wolf
4. I spent an entire year after the release of the movie American Pie being asked if I was related to Shannon Elizabeth
5. I have surprisingly long legs for my height...My husband is three inches taller than me and our legs are the same length!
6. My pet peeves are automated telephone systems and people with weak handshakes
7. My Mom once gave me a psychic reading for my birthday and the lady told me that I had been a very high profile political leader in a past life!
8. If I could live a totally different life without sacrificing anything I love...I would move to Maui and teach surfing (and maybe be in the sequel of Blue Crush while I'm at it!!!!)
9. I have a secret admiration for the inner workings of the drug trade
10. I talk to my cat a lot and there are moments when I'm sure he knows what I'm saying!
11. I want to go to Texas!
12. When I was young, I could recite, word for word, all six hours of the movie Anne of Green Gables (if you don't believe me...ask my Mom! She had to endure the torture of it any time we were in a car for long periods of time!!)
13. I have extreme Obsessive Compulsive Disorder about my hand writing. In university, I would re-write all of my notes after classes and if I made a mistake, instead of using white-out, I would start them all over again.
14. I once met a man named William Wallace!
15. I wish that I had blue eyes
16. Listening to rock music always makes me want to do one of two things; get drunk or run (I just can't explain it!!)!
17. I didn't get my driver's license until I was 25 years old
18. I think that Tom Cruise = CRAZY!
19. I have a rather irrational fear of flying over large bodies of water (that started around the same time I started watching LOST!!)
20. I am so in love with string music that I can seldom listen to it without crying
21. Ever since I was a little girl, I've had constant and repetitive dreams about my teeth falling out
22. I have an uncontrollable addiction to bookstores!
23. I am VERY self-conscious of my smile
24. I ran 863.7 kilometers in 2008 (it was a slow year!)
25. I can't remember life without the internet...
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
pandora's box...
I’ve been reading a lot about Barack Obama lately and trying to see what this guy is all about. I have to say, the man impresses me! His disposition alone really makes an impression and having spent three years getting a bird’s eye view of politics, I’m interested to see what’s going to unfold in the coming months.
Some friends and I were discussing Obama’s views on abortion recently and found ourselves in the midst of a very interesting debate; Obama appears to be a very Christian man and all the while, he supports the right to choose. This didn’t sit well with many of my friends! Personally, I try to steer clear of this topic because frankly, my own opinion doesn’t sit well with most of my friends either and I do what I can to keep a fair distance between me and the firing squad whenever possible! I guess my issue is that abortion tends to be defined, and judged, as any intentional termination of a pregnancy, regardless of the circumstances. This covers a very broad spectrum of motives; from the teenage girl using abortion as a means of birth control to the woman who, for medical reasons, must choose between her own life and that of her unborn child. It’s a very fine line and there is, in my humble opinion, a great distance between each end.
The debate took a very interesting twist though when we realized that the group discussing the topic was mostly made up of men…a gender that would never and could never experience the result of such decision making in the same capacity as their female counterparts. The question quickly came up about whether or not this should entitle men to the same degree of influence regarding this topic as they would have in matters such as the economy or education? Some men felt that by no means should they have any say at all when it comes to the issue while others strongly felt that men were the only ones who could provide a voice of reason to an otherwise emotionally charged topic.
Personally, I had never given it much thought. I still spend a lot of time just trying to figure out my own feelings regarding the matter nonetheless how much input others should have. Yes, it’s true that a man can never be privy to the physical and emotional experience of being pregnant and in turn, can never experience the grueling agony of having to make such a decision but, on the other hand, there is still a piece of them in that life…in those choices…in the consequences that remain.
And so I’m left baffled at the questions that my friends have managed to stir up and feel compelled to put it out there in the universe to stir things up some more!
So, any thoughts…??
Some friends and I were discussing Obama’s views on abortion recently and found ourselves in the midst of a very interesting debate; Obama appears to be a very Christian man and all the while, he supports the right to choose. This didn’t sit well with many of my friends! Personally, I try to steer clear of this topic because frankly, my own opinion doesn’t sit well with most of my friends either and I do what I can to keep a fair distance between me and the firing squad whenever possible! I guess my issue is that abortion tends to be defined, and judged, as any intentional termination of a pregnancy, regardless of the circumstances. This covers a very broad spectrum of motives; from the teenage girl using abortion as a means of birth control to the woman who, for medical reasons, must choose between her own life and that of her unborn child. It’s a very fine line and there is, in my humble opinion, a great distance between each end.
The debate took a very interesting twist though when we realized that the group discussing the topic was mostly made up of men…a gender that would never and could never experience the result of such decision making in the same capacity as their female counterparts. The question quickly came up about whether or not this should entitle men to the same degree of influence regarding this topic as they would have in matters such as the economy or education? Some men felt that by no means should they have any say at all when it comes to the issue while others strongly felt that men were the only ones who could provide a voice of reason to an otherwise emotionally charged topic.
Personally, I had never given it much thought. I still spend a lot of time just trying to figure out my own feelings regarding the matter nonetheless how much input others should have. Yes, it’s true that a man can never be privy to the physical and emotional experience of being pregnant and in turn, can never experience the grueling agony of having to make such a decision but, on the other hand, there is still a piece of them in that life…in those choices…in the consequences that remain.
And so I’m left baffled at the questions that my friends have managed to stir up and feel compelled to put it out there in the universe to stir things up some more!
So, any thoughts…??
Sunday, February 01, 2009
the best of australia...
At this time last year, not only were we packing our boxes to move into our new house, but we were also packing our sunscreen and our passports for our trip to Australia! Visiting the "Sunburnt Country" has been on my list of things to do ever since I was a little girl and when the opportunity presented itself, neither Steve nor I could resist. So, after nearly a year and a half of saving profusely, we booked a month off work and planned our dream adventure!
I did the best I could to capture in words what our trip was like but experiencing it for yourself is genuinely the only way to truly understand what being down under is really like. We came back very different people than when we left...as it tends to be the case with travelling!
We took nearly two thousand pictures while we were in Australia and I started going through them this weekend in hopes of making an album that best sums up our Aussie experience. It was so much fun going through all of them again and remembering what it was like spending an entire month doing brand new things for the first time; We saw kangaroos for the first time and ate crocodile. We bought our first piece of registered art from a good friend of Mel Gibson and we saw the Southern Cross under the most magnificent sky I've ever seen. Travelling changes who you are! And thanks to digital technology...it's now a lot easier to record the transition!
While our pictures in no way do the scenery any justice...they do at least remind me that while all our friends and family were buried in fifty centimetres of wretched snow, we were here...
For the rest of our Australia album, click here.
Friday, January 30, 2009
live your life...
Anyone who followed along during our trip to Australia might remember that for one day, we hopped on a sail boat and spent about ten hours visiting the Great Barrier Reef. Our entire visit to the North Eastern part of Australia was sort of a last minute decision actually. We had originally decided that we would visit either the Outback or the Great Barrier Reef, but didn’t think that we had the time or money to visit both. We figured that since our last trip to Hawaii was tropical, it made more sense to visit Ayers Rock and the Red Center, an environment that neither of us had ever seen before. We couldn’t do it though…we couldn’t get that close to the Reef and not stop by to say hello! So we trimmed a little bit of time here and there, dug down deeper into our already dwindling pockets and managed a short yet amazing visit to one of the most spectacular places on earth.
So early one cloudy Monday morning in April, we got up with the sun and made our way to the Pier in Cairns, Australia. Around 8am, we stepped on our boat, The Passions of Paradise, with about fifty other passengers and began our trek out into the ocean to visit one of the great wonders of the world. As we set out to sea, the skies opened up and gave us a glorious day (and a sunburn to prove it!). Spending the day in close quarters with that many other people gives you the opportunity to make many new friends…and in our case, it also provided the opportunity to witness first hand just how much Europeans enjoy taking their clothes off in public (a blog for another time!)! But for a person like my self, it also offered up the perfect environment for people watching…a hobby that I love immensely!
As we set out to find our location on the Reef, Steve and I spent many hours lounging in the sun along the front of the boat and taking in the rare occasion to be doing…well, nothing! During that time, I noticed three young girls. They must have been in their late teens or early twenties (twenty-one at the most I would say) and the three of them were having the time of their lives! It was so fun watching them throughout the day and remembering what it was like to be that age. I was a very different person at that time in my life and while it wasn’t really that long ago…it certainly seems far in terms of experience. Right away, I noticed that all three of them had identical tattoos on the outside of their right foot. They were pretty tattoos that appeared to be cursive writing. I couldn't figure out what they said at first, but once I did, the blissful state of perfect contentment that they were experiencing suddenly seemed to make perfect sense...
So early one cloudy Monday morning in April, we got up with the sun and made our way to the Pier in Cairns, Australia. Around 8am, we stepped on our boat, The Passions of Paradise, with about fifty other passengers and began our trek out into the ocean to visit one of the great wonders of the world. As we set out to sea, the skies opened up and gave us a glorious day (and a sunburn to prove it!). Spending the day in close quarters with that many other people gives you the opportunity to make many new friends…and in our case, it also provided the opportunity to witness first hand just how much Europeans enjoy taking their clothes off in public (a blog for another time!)! But for a person like my self, it also offered up the perfect environment for people watching…a hobby that I love immensely!
As we set out to find our location on the Reef, Steve and I spent many hours lounging in the sun along the front of the boat and taking in the rare occasion to be doing…well, nothing! During that time, I noticed three young girls. They must have been in their late teens or early twenties (twenty-one at the most I would say) and the three of them were having the time of their lives! It was so fun watching them throughout the day and remembering what it was like to be that age. I was a very different person at that time in my life and while it wasn’t really that long ago…it certainly seems far in terms of experience. Right away, I noticed that all three of them had identical tattoos on the outside of their right foot. They were pretty tattoos that appeared to be cursive writing. I couldn't figure out what they said at first, but once I did, the blissful state of perfect contentment that they were experiencing suddenly seemed to make perfect sense...
Live Your Life
Live your life! How beautiful is that? Right away, I found my mind screaming out “I want one of those tattoos!” Then I remembered my low tolerance for pain and quickly decided to retract that comment! But these girls were indeed living their lives...you could see it in their faces and I loved it! What I loved most though was the word “your”. Live your life. Not your neighbor’s life or your colleague’s life; not the life your parents may have wanted you to live and not Heidi Klum’s life (as appealing as that may sound!)…but YOUR life, whatever that may be. I think the reason that this has stuck with me so much is because I’m terrible at comparing myself to others and believing that my life needs to look more like theirs. The art of comparison is my addiction of choice and there seems to be, in this world of endless airbrushing and reality television, no end to picking your poison! Even in my every day reality, I am surrounded by truly spectacular women; beautiful, ambitious, talented, successful, adored…you name it and my friends possess it all. And that’s what I love about them. It’s also why I need to be reminded on a regular basis to live MY life…because mine is different than theirs, sometimes by choice, other times not but either way…I’ve learned that it’s a long, slow death trying to be somebody else. Make no mistake about it though , it still hasn’t stopped me from trying!
As inspired as I am by this tattoo that I saw on the other side of the world, I’m also well aware of just how daunting a task this really is. Not so much the living your life part…but more so, the figuring out what your life is really about. How do you want to live your life is the tricky part, at least for me. Even then, knowing is very different than doing. Actually, isn’t doing the hard part of any task or goal? Who ever said that knowledge is power clearly never tried going through Facebook detox!
However, all this being said, the last month has also made me realize that you could very well spend an entire lifetime knowing or wanting or dreaming or waiting and never doing. And this needs to stop, at least for me. I’ll admit that I’m pretty good at achieving the big things but there are little things, day to day things, that I’ve been wanting to tackle for some time and I always find a reason not to. Ironically enough, usually that reason is life itself!
They are all things that are good for me…things that would better my life…things that would better me as a person…things that I don’t want to put off any longer…things that matter. As we stumble through the journey that we laughingly call life…we learn that there is no better time and quite possible, no other time…than now. And so it begins…I’m going to live my life. I’m going to live it more happily…more thoughtfully…more genuinely…more hopefully. I’m going to live more of my life and less of others and hopefully, throughout the process…I’m going to learn a bit more about what exactly that is because at this point...I'm still not sure.
But just so I’m clear…I’m not getting a tattoo!
Sunday, January 25, 2009
the window of the soul...
My husband has the most amazing eyes!
I'm sure that most wives would stake that claim as their own, but it's true...they are truly incredible. He argues with me that they are plain and boring but he's wrong! He's got surprisingly long eyelashes and whenever he washes his face or takes a shower, little drops of water will gather at the end of his lashes and I can never seem to take my own eyes off of him.
I have never been more in love with my husband than I have during this past two weeks. This is the first time that Steve and I have experienced this kind of loss together and while you always hope for the best, it's often hard to predict how a couple will react under such circumstances. Sometimes, people become so overwhelmed with their own grief that it's hard to remember you are a part of a marriage. People often cope very differently with grief as well and that, in and of itself, can cause unintentional distance. It think that everyone who enters into marriage anticipates that there will be challenges along the way but I’m thankful to say that Steve and I didn’t let this become one of them. We grieved together and we mourned together but we never lost sight of each other even for a moment. We looked back sadly at the path we were once on, we looked around at the changes that were happening and we looked ahead at the future that’s a bit different than what we had hoped for…but we never took our eyes off each other. I’m humbled by the strength and grace of our marriage and for being a part of this joint force that is so much bigger than either of us.
I hope that when we have kids one day...they have his eyes.
I'm sure that most wives would stake that claim as their own, but it's true...they are truly incredible. He argues with me that they are plain and boring but he's wrong! He's got surprisingly long eyelashes and whenever he washes his face or takes a shower, little drops of water will gather at the end of his lashes and I can never seem to take my own eyes off of him.
I have never been more in love with my husband than I have during this past two weeks. This is the first time that Steve and I have experienced this kind of loss together and while you always hope for the best, it's often hard to predict how a couple will react under such circumstances. Sometimes, people become so overwhelmed with their own grief that it's hard to remember you are a part of a marriage. People often cope very differently with grief as well and that, in and of itself, can cause unintentional distance. It think that everyone who enters into marriage anticipates that there will be challenges along the way but I’m thankful to say that Steve and I didn’t let this become one of them. We grieved together and we mourned together but we never lost sight of each other even for a moment. We looked back sadly at the path we were once on, we looked around at the changes that were happening and we looked ahead at the future that’s a bit different than what we had hoped for…but we never took our eyes off each other. I’m humbled by the strength and grace of our marriage and for being a part of this joint force that is so much bigger than either of us.
I hope that when we have kids one day...they have his eyes.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
times like these...
I haven’t listened to music much lately in the past couple of weeks, which is odd because I need music the way I need oxygen. Not a single day goes by when I’m not listening to something on my computer at work and then plugged into earphones when I’m walking or running. It’s a rare sight to not see me accompanied with a soundtrack of some kind.
I’ve craved silence though lately. I’ve needed solitude and even the poetic words of my favourite musicians couldn’t pull me out of hiding. I’ll admit…the quiet is nice. Being left alone with my thoughts and emotions has been enlightening and I think in many ways, has helped ease the pain of this process a little bit.
I felt a bit lonely last night though. It seems strange to feel that way when we’ve been completely surrounded by so much love and support but alas, I needed my friends…my other friends…my melodic friends! So I took the ipod from it’s home in the living room, went upstairs to our bedroom, plugged in my earphones and listened to whatever song happen to come on.
Sure enough, I had to laugh when the moment I pressed play, the Foo Fighters enlightened me with this…
I’ve craved silence though lately. I’ve needed solitude and even the poetic words of my favourite musicians couldn’t pull me out of hiding. I’ll admit…the quiet is nice. Being left alone with my thoughts and emotions has been enlightening and I think in many ways, has helped ease the pain of this process a little bit.
I felt a bit lonely last night though. It seems strange to feel that way when we’ve been completely surrounded by so much love and support but alas, I needed my friends…my other friends…my melodic friends! So I took the ipod from it’s home in the living room, went upstairs to our bedroom, plugged in my earphones and listened to whatever song happen to come on.
Sure enough, I had to laugh when the moment I pressed play, the Foo Fighters enlightened me with this…
I am a one way motorway
I’m the one that drives away
Then follows your back home
I am a street light shining
I’m a wild light blinding bright
Burning off alone
It’s times like these you learn to live again
It’s times like these you give and give again
It’s times like these you learn to love again
It’s times like these time and time again
I am a new day rising
I’m a brand new sky
To hang the stars upon tonight
I am a little divided
Do I stay or run away
And leave it all behind?
It’s times like these you learn to live again
It’s times like these you give and give again
It’s times like these you learn to love again
It’s times like these time and time again
Coincidence? Probably not!
I always knew God was a fan of rock music!!!
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
awakenings...
“The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away” ~ Job 1:21
I’ve been thinking about this passage a lot lately. I woke up this morning finally starting to feel like myself again. I’ve been a bit anxious about the dark lately and finding myself procrastinating about having to turn off the lights each night. Things always seem harder for me in the dark and it was such a relief to awake this morning realizing that I had finally slept soundly through the night.
When I reflect on all that we’ve been through over the past week, I recognize more and more how hard it is for us humans to deal with the unexpected. Job 1:21 clearly states that the powers that be hold the future in their hands, and yet we are a breed that thrives off having control. We’ve managed to control so much of our lives and our world; we control our climates and our communication, we control our schedules and our need for convenience. We can even control our moods and our sleep patterns through a variety of means. Nature doesn’t play a very strong role in our day to day lives anymore and when something comes along that can’t be controlled with technology or medication, we find ourselves crippled in fear at our inability to let go of the final outcome.
But alas, the Lord gives and the Lord takes away. For better or for worse, this is life. And like Jacob, we struggle with it. We fight with God over it and in the end, we lose. We stumble over ourselves trying to prevent anything from being taken away but why does it have to be such a bad thing? It’s true…the Lord does take away jobs, loved ones and security. But the Lord also takes away fear, doubt and cancer.
As I sit in the midst of the latest that has been taken away, I also realize that it’s small in comparison to what has been given. While our joy and anticipation has been taken away, the necessary strength and courage has been given. While innocence and immediate hope has been taken away, faithfulness and trust has been given. While certainty and confidence were taken away, perspective and gratitude were given.
The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.
Life is really about character and the only way to determine our future is by how we choose to handle the past. A life spent only in blissful perfection is not a life gained by knowledge or growth. Can you fully appreciate the happiness never having experienced the pain? Can you truly leave a mark if you’ve never been inflicted with one?
I’ve decided to take this as a time to grow. I’ve decided that as we cradle our heads in our hands, we will take this experience and add another notch in our belts. It will be yet another battle scar in a life that is uniquely ours. The dust is settling and we are opening our eyes in astonishment at how much life can change so quickly and more so, just how much we can change with it. For all of our controlling tendencies, it’s possible that we don’t give ourselves enough credit.
I remember vividly standing in our shower saying out loud to myself “I don’t think that I can do this” and all the while, suddenly realizing that I was doing this. It was happening and I was okay. It wasn’t pleasant and it wasn’t pretty but the battlefields of life seldom are. But sure enough, I was still breathing and living and surviving and being. Life was happening and so was I. In all of my worst imaginings, I would have been curled on the floor of the shower in a twisted mess of panic and despair. Instead, I breathed, and I breathed, and I breathed again.
And that’s what you do; you breathe and you breathe and you breathe again until one day you wake up feeling more like more yourself because for every restless night there awaits a new awakening.
The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.
I’ve been thinking about this passage a lot lately. I woke up this morning finally starting to feel like myself again. I’ve been a bit anxious about the dark lately and finding myself procrastinating about having to turn off the lights each night. Things always seem harder for me in the dark and it was such a relief to awake this morning realizing that I had finally slept soundly through the night.
When I reflect on all that we’ve been through over the past week, I recognize more and more how hard it is for us humans to deal with the unexpected. Job 1:21 clearly states that the powers that be hold the future in their hands, and yet we are a breed that thrives off having control. We’ve managed to control so much of our lives and our world; we control our climates and our communication, we control our schedules and our need for convenience. We can even control our moods and our sleep patterns through a variety of means. Nature doesn’t play a very strong role in our day to day lives anymore and when something comes along that can’t be controlled with technology or medication, we find ourselves crippled in fear at our inability to let go of the final outcome.
But alas, the Lord gives and the Lord takes away. For better or for worse, this is life. And like Jacob, we struggle with it. We fight with God over it and in the end, we lose. We stumble over ourselves trying to prevent anything from being taken away but why does it have to be such a bad thing? It’s true…the Lord does take away jobs, loved ones and security. But the Lord also takes away fear, doubt and cancer.
As I sit in the midst of the latest that has been taken away, I also realize that it’s small in comparison to what has been given. While our joy and anticipation has been taken away, the necessary strength and courage has been given. While innocence and immediate hope has been taken away, faithfulness and trust has been given. While certainty and confidence were taken away, perspective and gratitude were given.
The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.
Life is really about character and the only way to determine our future is by how we choose to handle the past. A life spent only in blissful perfection is not a life gained by knowledge or growth. Can you fully appreciate the happiness never having experienced the pain? Can you truly leave a mark if you’ve never been inflicted with one?
I’ve decided to take this as a time to grow. I’ve decided that as we cradle our heads in our hands, we will take this experience and add another notch in our belts. It will be yet another battle scar in a life that is uniquely ours. The dust is settling and we are opening our eyes in astonishment at how much life can change so quickly and more so, just how much we can change with it. For all of our controlling tendencies, it’s possible that we don’t give ourselves enough credit.
I remember vividly standing in our shower saying out loud to myself “I don’t think that I can do this” and all the while, suddenly realizing that I was doing this. It was happening and I was okay. It wasn’t pleasant and it wasn’t pretty but the battlefields of life seldom are. But sure enough, I was still breathing and living and surviving and being. Life was happening and so was I. In all of my worst imaginings, I would have been curled on the floor of the shower in a twisted mess of panic and despair. Instead, I breathed, and I breathed, and I breathed again.
And that’s what you do; you breathe and you breathe and you breathe again until one day you wake up feeling more like more yourself because for every restless night there awaits a new awakening.
The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
voices...
Did you ever have an imaginary friend when you were young?
I spent a lot of time by myself when I was a little girl, mostly because of school; the bus ride was long, the bus stop was far and I usually had a couple of hours to myself before my Mom arrived home from work. I can’t remember how old I was but at one point in time, my Mom and I moved to a newer neighborhood in London and our home was still surrounded by wide open spaces that hadn’t yet been developed. I used to have to walk through a large field to get from my bus stop to our house and the walk was about a kilometer in distance – not far as an adult but certainly a hike for a little kid, especially through an empty field and with a vivid imagination!
It was during this time that I met Penelope. She was my imaginary friend. She was older and wiser and made the time by myself a little less lonely. At first, she was only around during my walks to and from the bus stops. Then she would appear on nights when I would lie awake in my bed unable to sleep. Eventually, she was always just kind of there…lingering by my side. She would talk me out of being scared or help me to mentally prepare myself when I knew I was about to get in trouble for something. She tried to help me with my math homework too but we both knew that was a lost cause!
In grade six, just after my Grandmother died, I started talking to her instead. I would spend countless hours conversing with her and asking for her advice. I missed her immensely and needed someone to listen to me. I needed someone who understood the people around me better than I did and someone who could guide me through the endless web of adolescence. Her absence was difficult for me and talking to her as though she was right next to me made the pain seem more bearable.
It wasn’t until a desperate night in grade eleven that I spoke to the God for the first time. I was tired, in mind and body, and desperately needed my life to be different. The last couple of years had been tumultuous for my Mother and I and few things seemed like they offered any stability anymore. I remember lying in my bed that night sobbing and begging God to make things different. After crying myself to sleep, I awoke the next morning feeling more peaceful than I had in a long time. Life proceeded to get even harder for the next few years but I continued to talk to God and every now and then, I think that He even talked back.
As you can see, I have a long history of hearing voices! Some people call this mental illness and in a mad attempt to convince myself that I’m not a schizophrenic, I prefer to call it the angels assigned to my case! We do a lot of things to ensure that we don’t feel alone in this world and why shouldn’t we? The love that surrounds us isn’t always so obvious and in some ways, these people…these voices, are merely our calmer and more comforting selves stepping in to take over the reigns; Our alter ego, our divine creation, our higher being…the self we long to be but can’t dig ourselves out of our doubt, our fear and our sorrow long enough to uncover them. We often need to hear things from somewhere else in order to truly listen.
I spoke to God a lot this past weekend. I pleaded in desperation for words…any words. I longed for words that weren’t my own and words that could somehow make this better. While I concede that I may be completely delusional, I’m also willing to testify that when I calmed down long enough to be still, I truly felt someone hold my face gently in their hands and whisper in my ear, “This too shall pass.”
Even more miraculous still were the many voices that followed; the very real voices of the people we love, the people who reached out to us in our sorrow and who asked to carry the weight for us. The people who cried with us and the people cried for us. I am overwhelmed at the amount of love that comes from grief and because of that, I am also forced to wonder if part of the reason such things happen at all is to simply remind us that whether we hear voices or not…we are never alone in this world. Never…
I spent a lot of time by myself when I was a little girl, mostly because of school; the bus ride was long, the bus stop was far and I usually had a couple of hours to myself before my Mom arrived home from work. I can’t remember how old I was but at one point in time, my Mom and I moved to a newer neighborhood in London and our home was still surrounded by wide open spaces that hadn’t yet been developed. I used to have to walk through a large field to get from my bus stop to our house and the walk was about a kilometer in distance – not far as an adult but certainly a hike for a little kid, especially through an empty field and with a vivid imagination!
It was during this time that I met Penelope. She was my imaginary friend. She was older and wiser and made the time by myself a little less lonely. At first, she was only around during my walks to and from the bus stops. Then she would appear on nights when I would lie awake in my bed unable to sleep. Eventually, she was always just kind of there…lingering by my side. She would talk me out of being scared or help me to mentally prepare myself when I knew I was about to get in trouble for something. She tried to help me with my math homework too but we both knew that was a lost cause!
In grade six, just after my Grandmother died, I started talking to her instead. I would spend countless hours conversing with her and asking for her advice. I missed her immensely and needed someone to listen to me. I needed someone who understood the people around me better than I did and someone who could guide me through the endless web of adolescence. Her absence was difficult for me and talking to her as though she was right next to me made the pain seem more bearable.
It wasn’t until a desperate night in grade eleven that I spoke to the God for the first time. I was tired, in mind and body, and desperately needed my life to be different. The last couple of years had been tumultuous for my Mother and I and few things seemed like they offered any stability anymore. I remember lying in my bed that night sobbing and begging God to make things different. After crying myself to sleep, I awoke the next morning feeling more peaceful than I had in a long time. Life proceeded to get even harder for the next few years but I continued to talk to God and every now and then, I think that He even talked back.
As you can see, I have a long history of hearing voices! Some people call this mental illness and in a mad attempt to convince myself that I’m not a schizophrenic, I prefer to call it the angels assigned to my case! We do a lot of things to ensure that we don’t feel alone in this world and why shouldn’t we? The love that surrounds us isn’t always so obvious and in some ways, these people…these voices, are merely our calmer and more comforting selves stepping in to take over the reigns; Our alter ego, our divine creation, our higher being…the self we long to be but can’t dig ourselves out of our doubt, our fear and our sorrow long enough to uncover them. We often need to hear things from somewhere else in order to truly listen.
I spoke to God a lot this past weekend. I pleaded in desperation for words…any words. I longed for words that weren’t my own and words that could somehow make this better. While I concede that I may be completely delusional, I’m also willing to testify that when I calmed down long enough to be still, I truly felt someone hold my face gently in their hands and whisper in my ear, “This too shall pass.”
Even more miraculous still were the many voices that followed; the very real voices of the people we love, the people who reached out to us in our sorrow and who asked to carry the weight for us. The people who cried with us and the people cried for us. I am overwhelmed at the amount of love that comes from grief and because of that, I am also forced to wonder if part of the reason such things happen at all is to simply remind us that whether we hear voices or not…we are never alone in this world. Never…
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