Patience. WTF?

Patience.

WTF?

It has been a long time since I have been here and I appreciate your patience. 

There has been too much that has happened for me to recap everything, however suffice it to say that I find myself in a situation that is unfamiliar. Things that have never been a challenge are now elusive.  I have never been fired and I don't completely understand why it happened.  I have never had an issue finding a place to live.  Now, I am so desperate, I have to look at inadequate housing just have a roof over my head. I have never been without employment in my adult life.  Now, my resume is being ignored by all.  WTF?

All I want to do is "fix" the situation, however it is unclear to me how to do so.  I have done all the things I have done in the past. They have all been unsuccessful.  WTF?

As a result, I am more than a little financially challenged. I really don't like it.  I understand that many people are in the same situation.  I am more than capable to look at them without judgement and with compassion.  It is not as easy for me to do so for myself. WTF?

I have come to conclusion that my God has a plan for me but I really wish S/He would get on with letting me know what it is. I am a person who wants to do something.  It is the only way I feel productive. If not action, what else? WTF?

I pray daily for knowledge of His/Her will for me and the power to carry it out.  I seem to be missing the message. I have begged for the neon sign, the 2/4 over my head, but still nothing. WTF?

There are many lessons to be learned from Albert Einstein; not the least of which is "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result." So here I sit; a soul lost in my own version of insanity.  

I know that my God has two answers to my prayers, yes or wait.  Waiting is my worse thing. A skill I have improved, but by no means mastered.  

I have changed my strategy.  I have chosen to be patient with myself as best I can; to be compassionate with me as I do others.  I deserve it as do they.  I am working with what I have as opposed to wishing for what I think I should have.  There is a plan for me.  I am not clear as to what it is or understand the lesson I am meant to learn or if there is one I am to teach.  I continue to have faith that the Universe is unfolding as it should.  All of this is a work in progress, as am I. 

I have begun to write more diligently.  I have taken on critiquing as a way to improve my craft. I have gained courage to enable me to submit my writing to professionals for there review and comments.  I do my best to not take criticism personally; that it is my writing, not me being analysed.  

Patience is not easy for me, regardless of its simplicity.  It is my own ego that makes me think that I deserve better than my circumstances.  The fact is that I am not better or worse than anyone else on this planet.  It is through prayer, acceptance, and the elusive patience that I will clear the way for the happiness, joy and freedom that is ultimately my God's will for me.  

 

 

 

Olympians and Olympians

The Summer Olympics now over and becoming a memory, I feel the need to express myself.  There are so many things that could be said about the money or politics of the games.  After some research, I learned that money issues are universal in all sports and that the games have had political issues since the beginning.  After some reflection, I realized that there are far more important things that I need to say.

As a Canadian, I am excited and proud that our team did extremely well in the various events winning a total of 27medals (as of August 10), a Canadian best of non boycotted Olympics.  Most of them won by the Ladies. As a woman I can only say "You Go Girls." But I want to say something to the non medal winners, Canadian and the rest of the world. 

There are far less post competition interviews for the the athletes that finish off the podium.  They probably won't have the city name a street after them.  Their welcome home will probably not include National Leaders.  In fact it may only be family that meet them at the airport for the ride home.  I want to change that, even it is just with this post. And change it for a lot of unsung heroes and heroines of the olympic challenges of life.

Canada sent a total of 338 competitors to Paris in 2024, including alternates.  Canada's total population is 39.9 million.  That means, if my calculations are correct,  that far less than 1% of Canadians can claim Olympian status this year.  The world wide population is approximately 8 billion.  The total number of competitors In Paris is 10 700.  My limited math knowledge tells me that means that fewer than 1 in a million can call themselves an Olympian in 2024. (Please correct me if I messed up.)

In my opinion that is something of which to be proud.  These are not just individuals that woke up one morning said I want to go to the olympics and 6 months later were representing their country on the world stage.  Olympians train for most of their lives for a games that last only two weeks. If you think about the Men's 100m dash, it's less than 10 seconds.  There are 1000s of hours of training.  They must overcome injuries.  They must put their education on hold.  They face financial challenges to make their Olympic dream come true.  The commitment that these athletes have is immeasurable.  Something I know, I would be unable to do, physically and emotionally.  These people are superheroes that don't have the honour of wearing a cape.  

Many of us may feel that we have nothing of which to be proud.  No one is giving out gold medals for getting up every morning and pushing through the day.  Some feel unappreciated by their bosses.  Our teenage children think we are the epitome of uncool and a complete embarrassment.  Don't they see the work we put in to keep them fed, clothed and in some cases in school.  All of us make sacrifices everyday for the ones we love. We put our personal goals aside so that others can have a chance to reach theirs.  This is more than medal worthy, it is statue worthy.  And all of us do this at some point in our lives. 

At some point in my life I woke up to the fact that I am a writer.  It took a while, and I had to be figuratively and, in a way, literally hit in the head to realize it.  So, I set a goal.  I wanted to write a novel.  I had to face naysayers; more than I expected and from people I thought would be in my corner. But I had a small group behind me.  I wrote when ever I could.  Much of the book was written in arenas while I waited for my son's hockey game or my daughters figure skating to start.  But more important than anything, I wrote a novel.  It has a beginning, a middle and an end.  With the priceless help of professional colleagues, it has been edited and polished and is  being sent out to agents and publishers. I have a slew of rejections letters to prove it.  I am committed.  Yes my original goal was just to write the novel.  But because of my cheerleaders, I have set new goals.  I am writing two  new novels, two picture books and am continuing to submit my completed manuscript.  This takes a long term commitment, just like those Olympians who may not see the podium.  

We are all just like those in one in a million. We work very hard at whatever is put in front of us. It may not seem monumental in the eyes of others, which means nothing.  When I was diagnosed with  MS, my first neurologist made a point of telling me how good I had it compared to some of his other patients.  I assume he was trying to teach me gratitude for not being confined to a wheelchair or many of the other restrictions people with MS may face.  At that time in my life (my 20s), all it did was invalidate my feelings of loss, fear and frustration.  My second neurologist had a much better bed side manner.  He let me know that though my symptoms were not the worse he had ever seen, it was the worse I had ever felt and that is what mattered.  Wow, it was ok to not feel ok.

I extrapolate this point to all of us.  Our challenges may not be on the world stage.  We don't get international press.  Nobody is going to build us a statue because we washed the dishes, folded the laundry, and helped our children with their homework.  There are not ceremonies for mowing the lawn, getting the children to their extracurriculars, and shovelling the snow from the driveway.  Maybe there should be.  These are a monumental tasks for those who face them every day.  Those who are completing them, should think so.  Do not downplay your daily accomplishments.  I have been guilty of that myself.  I make a  "DONE"  list instead of a to do list.  It forces my brain to look differently at my day.  It is a concrete record of my accomplishments and triumphs whether the rest of the world sees them as such or not.

So what am trying to say?  I think it is okay to look at others as heroes and heroines.  It may even be necessary for motivation to move forward.  But let's not forget the heroes and heroines we are.  And WE ARE.  We don't wear capes.  We don't have a logo blazing across our chest. We are not given medals and there is not standing on a podium.  But we do have superpowers.  In our very being is a superpower.  Showing up everyday is a superpower.  You are a Superhero/ine.  Don't ever forget it.

Life’s Meaning

What is the meaning of life?  

Many a philosopher have pondered this question. 

“The ultimate goal of human existence is not just to live but to live a good meaning and virtuous life.”  Socrates.

“…to know and understand the truth or the ‘eidos’ of the good…” Plato.

“Rivers know this:  there is no hurry. We shall get there some day.”  Winnie the Pooh.

“Today I will behave as if this is the day I will be remembered.”  Dr. Seuss. 

As accomplished as Socrates and Plato may be, as philosophers go, I prefer Winnie the Pooh and Dr. Seuss. They just seem to keep life simple. 

As simple as they keep there thinking, it doesn’t mean it’s easy. I often wonder what is my purpose, as I think every person should do, at least occasionally. 

There are as many purposes to life as there are people in the world; and not a one is the same. 

That is a pretty daunting thought, but it means that the only purpose for which you are looking, is your own. For some, including me, it’s hard to believe that in the mass of humanity that I’m special. 

The fact is that I am, as is everyone. Dr. Neil DeGrasse Tyson explained it best. We are each unique. In all the people that have been, in all the people that are, and all the people that will ever be, and the people that could be, there is no one like me. Ominous. Miraculous. 

Logic only dictates that means I have a singular purpose. The next question is how to know what it is. This is the challenging part. 

There are many ways to undertake this search. For a time, I wandered along aimlessly trying to be what was expected by the situation in which I was, or the people with whom I was. This was both exhausting and futile. 

At sometime I realized a few important life lessons. I wish I could give credit to my teachers but it didn’t come in bolt of lightning. It was a long time coming; and a long time learning. 

Through life experience, I have learned that I’m smarter than I think, braver than I believe, and stronger than I seem. (Another Winnie quote.) Because of this, I know that I cannot only survive life’s trials and tribulations, but grow and thrive. 

I’m not meant to be Nelson Mandela or Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Those jobs have been taken. I’m meant to be Stephanie A. Maidens. The best I can be today, and even better tomorrow. Some days that may involve teaching and most definitely learning. To do so, I have to keep my eyes open for the opportunities. This is not always easy for me. I tend to be a bit on the stubborn side. Honestly, being of Swedish and Irish decent, I really didn’t have a choice. But the signs are always there. It could be in nature to teach me about the wonders around me. It could be seeing those less fortunate than me to remind me that “There but for the grace of God go I.”  

To truly know my purpose for today, I pray “ for the knowledge of God’s will for me and the power to carry that out.”  I admit that I forget the last part of that prayer. This is when I can get overwhelmed by the task in front of me. I have yelled at my Higher Power more than once. “Are you FKG crazy?”  May be S/He is sometimes, but S/He has never been wrong. 

So does all this answer the question of my purpose?  I know that my purpose changes daily. Sometimes it’s monumental. Sometimes it’s just taking the garbage can to the curb. No matter, if I’m being me, I’m succeeding. 

(Temporary Backup) Happiness

Happiness is an inside job. 

You’re only as happy as you make your mind up to be. 

Happiness is not having what you want; it’s wanting what you have. 

I know that there a million other clichés about being happy, but these will help me make my point. Although they sound wise, simple and easy, the easy part is BULL SHIT. 

Pardon my language but I need to make the point of this post perfectly clear. As simple as it sounds, the path to happiness is not for wimps. 

This post is not going to be about  cute kittens, Unicorns or rainbows. It is about a battle: the battle for happiness. 

It seems an oxymoron to use the words happiness and battle in the same sentence but there is nothing more true. 

I know that I don’t speak only for myself when I say my life has not gone according to plan. Some of it has far exceeded expectations, but a lot has fell way short. Looking only at the latter can drown me in disappointment, inadequacy and failure. They have a very strong current that is not easy to survive, never mind maneuver. It takes a lot of strength and endurance which can be in short supply. 

The obvious answer is to signal for help, but those feelings themselves make me want to isolate, like being alone is going to somehow save me. I got here by doing it alone, how could it help to stay alone. 

No battle, no war was ever won alone. Other than Canada, Great Britain and the US, 10 other countries sent troops to storm Normandy. Together they began the end of WWII. This is just one example and if none of the military power houses of the time could take down the Nazis on their own, what makes me think I can make it through life without others?  Pride? Fear?

It is easy to see all the strikes against me. I have MS which significantly reduces my ability to do things, like working full time and not needing outside help to stay financially a float. 

My marriage failed and although I know I am not solely to blame, I know I did have a part. I don’t have a house anymore and am unlikely to be able to own one alone. I constantly feel that I’m behind, especially when I see all the accomplishments others my age have achieved. I’m not able to give to my children what I have wanted. And if I don’t force myself to stop, that list can go on forever. 

So I reach out. There is always someone or something. They remind me of all the good things to tally; all the ones that I have forgotten or discounted while sinking in an undertow. 

I loved my ex husband deeply and did my best to make the marriage work. My MS has been stable for many years because I have done my best to take care of my needs. I helped raise two of the most exceptional children that have ever lived. They are two of the best people I know and are changing my world with inspiration every day. I have a part time job that I truly love and feel that I am doing good for a lot of young people; maybe even broadening their horizons. I have people in my life that love and support me and whom I love. 

With all these good things, it should be easy to stay happy. 

But we all know that’s not true. Many people have even more “good” things in their lives and still battle to be happy. So what do we do?

I think the first step to any happiness or peace or serenity must start with acceptance of what is and what isn’t. There are so many things that are totally beyond my control. That includes everything except my behaviour. There is something incredibly empowering when I admit powerlessness. I can focus on me, somewhat guilt free. I’m a Mom so I feel guilty at times.  But I look for progress not perfection.

I will never be an astronaut or a nuclear scientist. But I never wanted to be any way. 

To quote my son, “The people around you who really care have a way of keeping things in perspective.”  I wonder how he got so smart. 

After acceptance, I have to move on to gratitude. Sometimes the list is pretty basic, but if smaller things make you happy, the happier you’ll be. 

I say thank you for the Sun. It warms my face and spirit. 

I say thank you for food and shelter. They keep safe and alive. 

I say thank you for family and friends. They hold me up when I cannot stand on my own. 

I say thank you for a desire to learn. As long as I learn I am being born anew. If I’m not busy being born, I’m busy dying. 

I say thank you for the ability to love and be compassionate. It gives be the opportunity to be loved and experience deep joy. 

With a list like this, why is it hard to stay happy. Because, though I am a spiritual being, I am having a human experience. And as such I falter. I can be blind to the beauty and deaf to the symphony that is my life. 

This is the ultimate battle. To look past the dark and see the light. It is not easy. The darkness can be heavy and paralyzing. The light is there. With acceptance and gratitude for what is and the help of others, its glow is powerful and empowering. 

(Temporary Backup) Happiness

Happiness is an inside job. 

You’re only as happy as you make your mind up to be. 

Happiness is not having what you want; it’s wanting what you have. 

I know that there a million other clichés about being happy, but these will help me make my point. Although they sound wise, simple and easy, the easy part is BULL SHIT. 

Pardon my language but I need to make the point of this post perfectly clear. As simple as it sounds, the path to happiness is not for wimps. 

This post is not going to be about  cute kittens, unicorns or rainbows. It is about a battle: the battle for happiness. 

It seems an oxymoron to use the words happiness and battle in the same sentence but there is nothing more true. 

I know that I don’t speak only for myself when I say my life has not gone according to plan. Some of it has far exceeded expectations, but a lot has fallen short. Looking only at the latter can drown me in disappointment, inadequacy and failure. They have a very strong current that is not easy to survive, never mind maneuver. It takes a lot of strength and endurance which can be in short supply. 

The obvious answer is to signal for help, but those feelings themselves make me want to isolate, like being alone is going to somehow save me. I got here by doing it alone, how could it help to stay alone. 

No battle, no war was ever won alone. Other than Canada, Great Britain and the US, 10 other countries sent troops to storm Normandy. Together they began the end of WWII. This is just one example. If none of the military power houses of the time could take down the Nazis on their own, what makes me think I can make it through life without others?  Pride? Fear?

It is easy to see all the strikes against me. I have MS which significantly reduces my ability to do things, like working full time and not needing outside help to stay financially a float. 

My marriage failed and although I know I am not solely to blame, I know I did have a part. I don’t have a house anymore and am unlikely to be able to own one again. I constantly feel that I’m behind, especially when I see all the accomplishments of others my age have achieved. I’m not able to give to my children what I have want. And if I don’t force myself to stop, that list can go on forever. 

So I reach out. There is always someone or something. They remind me of all the good things to tally; all the ones that I have forgotten or discounted while sinking in an undertow. 

I loved my ex husband deeply and did my best to make the marriage work. My MS has been stable for many years because I have done my best to take care of my needs. I helped raise two of the most exceptional children that have ever lived. They are two of the best people I know and are changing my world with inspiration every day. I have a part time job that I truly love and feel that I am doing good for a lot of young people; maybe even broadening their horizons. I have people in my life that love and support me and whom I love. 

With all these good things, it should be easy to stay happy. 

But we all know that’s not true. Many people have even more “good” things in their lives and still battle to be happy. So what do we do?

I think the first step to any happiness or peace or serenity must start with acceptance of what is and what isn’t. There are so many things that are totally beyond my control. That includes everything except my behaviour. There is something incredibly empowering when I admit powerlessness. I can focus on me, somewhat guilt free. I’m a Mom so I feel guilty at times.  But I look for progress not perfection.

I will never be an astronaut or a nuclear scientist. But I never wanted to be any way. 

To quote my son, “The people around you who really care have a way of keeping things in perspective.”  I wonder how he got so smart. 

After acceptance, I have to move on to gratitude. Sometimes the list is pretty basic, but if smaller things make you happy, the happier you’ll be. 

I say thank you for the Sun. It warms my face and spirit. 

I say thank you for food and shelter. They keep alive and safe. 

I say thank you for family and friends. They hold me up when I cannot stand on my own. 

I say thank you for a desire to learn. As long as I learn I am being born anew. If I’m not busy being born, I’m busy dying. 

I say thank you for the ability to love and be compassionate. It gives be the opportunity to be loved and experience deep joy. 

With a list like this, why is it hard to stay happy. Because, though I am a spiritual being, I am having a human experience. And as such I falter. I can be blind to the beauty and deaf to the symphony that is my life. 

This is the ultimate battle. To look past the dark and see the light. It is not easy. The darkness can be heavy and paralyzing. The light is there. With acceptance and gratitude for what is and the help of others, its glow is powerful and empowering. 

Embrace The Confusion

     

I have often said if I were ever to write an autobiography it would be titled Embrace the Confusion.  In fact, I spend most of my waking hours confused.  If anyone knows me they know that I am not only a fountain of trivial knowledge but, I am also a geyser of questions.  The most commonly asked is why.  

    In fact I drove some high school teachers to distraction with all my questions.  Poor Mr. Dumanski in Grace Nine Science was tortured for an entire term.  This course was an introduction to several topics, including biology, physics and a bit of chemistry.  Mr. Dumanski was patient but apparently I was asking some questions beyond his scope of knowledge.  This didn't in anyway make him a bad teacher.  After all he was teaching the course as a replacement for a teacher on maternity leave.  At some point, I think he became overwhelmed and brought in the head of the science department, Mr. Tucci, to answer some of my questions.  Let's remember, this was science; some times it just is.  I think there is a why to everything, but we just know what it is yet. 

    I asked many questions through out my scholastic career and beyond.  I admit that it has become even more intense in my adulthood.  This is not something of which I am ashamed; in fact, quite the opposite.  I also taught my children to do the same.  Whenever you read, see or hear ANYTHING ask who is saying it; why are they saying it;  and who benefits.  This allows them to make intelligent and some what educated decisions.  The most important skill I had to teach my children was to think.  The world doesn't need blind following drones; it has enough. 

Some of the questions I ask may seem a bit ridiculous, even to me.  Be that as it may, they continue to randomly enter my mind.  Such as:

•    Why does the Pythagorean Theory work? And who truly discovered it?  Pythagora? The Babylonians? The Egyptians?

• What is Goofy? A dog? A cow? Some sort of genetic hybrid?

• What does human history look like to a 200 year old tree?

• Why do moths fly towards the light?  Are they seeking heat or spiritual enlightenment?

    And these are just a few that could pass through my mind in a given day or even an hour.  I guess these would be the more light hearted sort; nonetheless I would like to know the answers.

    

    Not all my questions are so benign.  Human behaviour has always fascinated me and confused me.  For instance:

• Why do people hate? How does it happen? Is it taught? Is it learned? Why can't people see it's destructiveness?

• Why is there war?  Does anything good come from it? If yes, what is it?

• Why does industry seem to think that profits are more important to people?

• What is the benefit of being rich, if the planet is unliveable for the human race?

   My most perplexing questions are of a more personal nature.  It goes way beyond "Why am I here?". I, at least, have a vague idea about that.  But I want to know more. 

• Am I here to learn a lesson or teach a lesson? If yes, what is it? How do I do it?

• Why do my life teachers die before I have learned all I can from them?

• Am I living my life according to God's plan for me? If not, how do I find The Plan?

• Have I have done enough to make the world better? What else can I do? Why does it never feel like I am doing enough?

    I have met many people who move through life with few to no questions about anything.  There is something to be said for the adage that ignorance is bliss.  But I  seem to be anatomically in capable of living that way.  Sometimes, I wish I could.  It seems like it would be a much more peaceful existence.  For me, that is all it would be, existence.  I could not grow.  And this goes against everything I know and feel in my heart and soul.  

    So I had to embrace the confusion.  To accept that I have an instinctual need to know why.  I cannot imagine myself being any other way.  I accept that this is me and regardless of the chaos it may cause, every answer is worth it.  It makes me a better person and affords me the chance to share my knowledge with others. 

That is why I am here.

The Path to Courage.

 The Path to Courage

Courage is ever elusive.

It hides in the light.

A light that is blinding,

Or are we just blind to see it.

It is obscured by circumstances;

Places we have been!

Times we have lived!

Things we have seen!

Making our eyes focus;

Focus on what is, not what could be. 

We do not realize what we can be. 

We stay trapped in what we are.

Imprisoned by false limitations;

Shackled to walls by chains;

The chains of fear and doubt.

Struggling and searching.

Still fearing what we will see.

It is there; it is somewhere; it is everywhere. 

We wander lost in a jungle!

A jungle of of our making!

A jungle we feed everyday!

A jungle ever growing!

We must learn to tame this jungle.

The light we are seeking is within us.

We need only to push fear aside.

The glow is ever present as sure as the Sun.

There to warm us!

There to move us!

There to guide us!

We have only to follow 

Follow as the Star of the Magi.

The fire of hope is bright.

An eternal Flame with in us.

A Flame in our mind!

A Flame in our soul!

A Flame in our spirit!

A Flame burning in our whole self.

We have only to let it consume our disbelief.

Hope cannot live without our attention.

It has a constant need of stoking. 

Hope must be loved!

Hope must be adored!

Hope must be worshipped!

It must be tended with all the passion of our Heart.

Know that Hope will illuminate us.

It can only brighten our World. 

We will see what we are!

We will see what we can be!

We see what we can do!

Hope will always be there if we believe.

Through Hope we discover Faith.

There will be no other choice.

Faith in what we are meant to be!

Faith in what will be our future!

Faith in a future of our creation!

Our Faith must burn bright and strong.

Our Faith will always be under siege;

By our own fear, by our own doubt.

Attacked by the words of others!

Attacked by those who love us!

Attacked by those whom we love!

We must build our Faith and defend it until our last breath.

Our Faith will only lead in one direction;

The direction to all that is good. 

Faith leads to our strength!

Faith leads to our endurance!

Faith leads to our continued resolve!

The road takes us all to Courage.

Courage will only take us to our better self.

We will have no choice.

Courage gives us the desire to change!

Courage gives us the fortitude to change!

Courage gives us the need to change!

With our constant movement forward,

We can only be better.

With every inch, step and leap

We will become our Best.

Hope, Faith and Courage is the only way.

Don't be hindered by fear. 

Break free and make the World a Better place.

(Temporary Backup) Cultural Respect???

I want to preface this entry with the following. I support the idea of inclusiveness. There should be no discrimination based on anything. The judgement of any person should be based on their character. 

I also understand that transgendered persons would like to be seen as the gender with which they identify, not what they may have been assigned at birth. The LGBTQ community should be respected. 

Any culture and faith should be able to practice according to their traditions and within the laws of their country. 

All that being said, I think that some people and organizations may be taking this a bit far. 

The British Museum in London, the National Museum of Scotland and the Great North Museum: Hancock have made a decision regarding the term “Mummy.”  These reputable institutions have assessed that the term is dehumanizing and prefer using “mummified remains.”  I would like to remind everyone that these people are dead. And believe that the dead should be respected, but changing the name is literally the least Egyptologists could do. 

According to some, “Mummy” is too much a reminder of British Imperialism. Well, there are far more poignant reminders of imperialism in the world. I draw your attention to most countries in Africa. After the British, and other European countries determined that occupation of African nations was no longer profitable, they left. The transition of power was tumultuous and brought about violence that is still evident decades after being “granted” independence. 

The use of “Mummy” is deemed dehumanizing. In many parts of the world it is a criminal offence to perform indignities to a body. I really don’t think I am stretching to say that digging up a thousand year old body, is pretty undignified. Should I mention the grave robbing?  There have been countless exhibits of King Tutankhamum’s treasures floating around the world after being “discovered” in 1922. Is this not profiting from the robbery of a grave?  

The final reason for the change in terminology is that the word “Mummy,” because of literature and film, has become synonymous with monsters and evil. We all know that this is pretend, right?  I don’t think there are people that actually believe that when children come to their door on October 31st, the one wrapped in toilet paper is there to fulfill some ancient curse. 

Yes, I do believe that language should change to be respectful, but there are far more significant ways to honour an individual, faith or a culture than changing a word. Isn’t said that actions speak louder than words?  

Sources:

elpalais.com

thetutankhumanexbition.co.uk

responsibletravel.com

egypttoday.com

history.com

Happy New Year!??

Since I have been an adult, I have not been a great fan of the whole New Year Hype. I find it a highly over rated paired with high pressure to have fun. I understand that it is a chance at renewal and letting go of the past, but can’t that be done everyday?

I am very happy to see 2022 end. This was a very tough year. Although it started out fine, in June all Hell broke loose. Our car broke down. We purchased a new car but after only 5 days an accident totalled it. There was the ensuing insurance chaos, including injuries. We both battled Covid. There a significant loss of income. And finally, weather conditions kept us from our original plans for Christmas. I felt like I was being punished for something, even though my brain knew differently. 

I had to start anew everyday. I could not carry the anxiety and anger and frustration of the yesterday into the today. Doing so would overwhelm and make it impossible for me to tackle the tasks to be done. And there were a lot. 

Letting go of yesterday, with all its pain and joy is a must, if I am ever to move on and grow. One day at a time is a good strategy for survival. I have had to realize that the challenges were not punishment, but opportunities to learn. If I dwelled on the lessons of yesterday, I could not take on the new ones of todays. 

Many people only make a concerted effort to do this in a new year.  I do not understand. Everyday is a New Year’s Day. It is a new beginning to learn and grow; a chance to be reborn. If you’re not busy being born, you’re busy dying. 

I am not one to put much credit to New Year’s Resolutions. Why only then. A choice to change can happen every morning, not just on January First. 

I decided a long time ago to let go of the hype of New Year’s Eve. Celebrating a new year is good. I chose to spend the evening with close family and friends. Often, we play various board games and share party snacks and drinks. I do not need champagne, someone to kiss at midnight, although today I do have someone special. 

I chose to start a new year every day. As was told to me during my labour with my son, the last contraction is done. You don’t have to worry about it any more. The same can be said for everyday. Yesterday’s mistakes and successes, pain and joy have come to pass not to stay. Enjoy them in the moment; and await those of today. 

Cultural Appropriation or Appreciation?

 With the Day of Truth and Reconciliation just past and Halloween soon upon us, this is a question that has plagued my mind.  I am sure as a young person and a child I have done things that would be considered appropriation.  I will chalk it up to ignorance and the inability to see how it could be interpreted by others.  As an adult and the Mother of mixed race children, I am more than willing to understanding the difference.  

    On the surface, I may be considered part of the cultural majority but I am a little more complicated than that.  My Father was of Irish descent born in Quebec and a proud Canadian.  This can be interpreted as a contradiction in terms right there.  My Mother is a Canadian citizen born and raised in Sweden.  My brothers were born in Jamaica and Florida respectively.  I was born in Canada and have been influenced by all the cultures associated with the countries mentioned above.

    I have also been curious and eager to learn about the cultures of others.  I always want to know the why behind each significant artifact and celebration.  At times, my questions may become annoying but I have never meant to be disrespectful.  In fact, it has been quite the opposite.  The reason for my questions is that I want to learn; I want to correct any misinformation I have; and if possible spread the correct  information to others.

    According to anthropologist Edward Burnett Tylor, culture is "the complex whole which includes knowledge, belief, art, morals, law, customs and any other capabilities and habits acquired by man as a member of society."  It is not biologically inherited, it is learned and is done when you belong to a particular group.

    I understand that adopting elements from a cultural for personal benefit without acknowledging its source and significance or that promoting a stereotype is harmful.  Stereotypes, in my opinion, are any image or assumption about a person or group that does not accurately portray the reality of the complex characteristics of the individual or group.

    But my confusion lies in the line between appreciation and appropriation.  September 1 was the National Day of Truth and Reconciliation. I had the opportunity to be smudged.  I listened carefully to the instructions, said thank you and asked about the materials used in the smudging process.  I learned that different communities use different items.  I found this a great experience  I hope that I properly expressed the honour it was to be included in this significant ceremony.  

    As mentioned above, I consider myself an ethnic mutt, and I am proud of it.  I have had the chance to learn about many traditions. We ate corn beef and cabbage on St Patrick’s Day and have often attended the Parade in Montreal. My cousins have participated in the celebration for many years.  My Dad, being born in Quebec City also practiced many French Canadian traditions.  We always had tourtière after Midnight Mass and I made several attempts at sucre à la crème, I am still trying to master it. My Mother being Swedish, we celebrated Santa Lucia on December 13.  It a day when the eldest daughter wakes the family with coffee and special treats of saffron bread and a uniqued ginger snap.  We also had Swedish Ham with pickled herring on Christmas Eve.  The herring was a taste I never acquired.  After marrying a Jamaica, curry goat was welcomed to the feast.  

    Madonna was accused of appropriation for her song "Vogue" and the ensuing video.  It was based on a dance developed at a Drag Queen Ball.  Although Madonna featured Drag Queens in the video, no credit was given to the roots of the dance and Madonna was the only one who profited financially by the 2X platinum record.

    Cultural appropriation is all over the sports world.  The Cleveland Indians (now the Cleveland Guardians) were formed in 1915. The Cleveland Plain Dealer newspaper wrote there will be no "real Indians" on the team but the name remembers a fine tradition.  I am really not sure what that means.  How does naming a sports team, in a sport that has no direct connection to Indigenous people, with a poor caricature on its uniform, honours anything.  This was 1915 and cultural sensitivity was unknown and some of the arrogance of colonialism was still running strong.  But thankfully more enlightened heads have popped up.  Some sports teams have changed theirs name and logo when it was understood that these were anything but a show of respect for the Indigenous people that they were suppose represent.  The Washington Redskins are now the Washington Commanders, The Golden State Warriors lost the Native American logo when it moved from Philadelphia to San Francisco.  The list goes on, but it needs to keep going. 

    There are still so many other logos that should change.  I think that The Minnesota Vikings should take a good look.  I have notice the uproar that has been associated with many of the misinterpretation of the Indigenous.  Perhaps Scandinavian Culture does not share the same 600 year old history of persecution and oppression.  It is historically accepted that The Vikings never wore horns on helmets.  Perhaps I am more sensitive to this caricature since I am of Swedish descent; maybe because I do my best to learn history as accurately as possible, but this incorrect image bothers me.  Am I being to sensitive?

    I love foreign foods and have followed up with attempts to replicate the delicious dishes and recipes.  I would never claim them as my own.  I adore Jazz music which is the root of all modern North American music.  I will listen and sing it at any Karaoke bar that will have me.  I am well aware that I am not Ella Fitzgerald and will never be able to give scat any justice.  I love many different kinds of art; Native, Caribbean, African and anything Van Gogh.  With my limited talent I have tried to copy it but I certainly would never paint, or sketch or draw with the intention of making money.  It is for my own enjoyment.  Is any of this appropriation?  Sometimes, I just don't know.  

    I have learnt that some non Black people have chosen to wear dread locks.  I don't know if this is necessarily wrong.  It is wrong however that Black people have been denied jobs, memberships, and the opportunity to walk across the stage at their own graduation because of their hair style.  And worse, that those who are not Black with the same style are not denied these basic rights.  With all do respect, WTF? 

    I hope that none of my hobbies etc. have been appropriations.  I would not want to oversimplify anyone.  We are all complex beings, with varied and blended backgrounds; all of which needs to respected.  In my opinion, the only way to ensure this is to ask questions and listen to the answers with an open mind.  What may seem like no big deal to you may be supremely significant to another.  This is not just culturally but in all matters of humanity.  The more we learn, the more we know; the more we respect, the more we love.  

Sources

www.history.com

www.wrap.com

www.verywellmind.com

www.radioindigenous/cbc/ca/unreserved

www.britannica.com>story

   

Nelson Mandela International Day

     

    You may not be aware, but July 18 was named Nelson Mandela International Day by the United Nations in 2009.  For those who may not know, the significance of Nelson Mandela is monumental. I will do my best to do the man and his accomplishments justice. 

    Nelson Mandela was named Rolihlahla Mandela at birth on July 18 1918 in Mvezo South Africa.  His name means "puller of branch" or "troublemaker."  He was born to royalty, a human rights activist, prisoner of conscience and the first President of South Africa elected in a free and fully representative election in 1994.   

    Those accomplishments are pretty impressive but they merely scratch the surface.  When my children left for school in the morning, or any occasion, I would tell them "You're the Best. Change the world."  They more than succeeded.  I don't know if Nelson Mandela's parents said anything similar, but there is no denying that he changed everything for an entire country and beyond.

    In 1950s he was elected Youth Leader of the African National Congress (ANC).  This is an organization dedicated the dismantling of Apartheid, meaning "apartness" in Africaans. It was the racist South African political system that oppressed more than 3/4 of the population.

    During this time, he studied law at the University Witwatersrand, afterwards he opened the first Black law firm in Johannesburg.  

"Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world."  

       This is not just something Mandela said, he lived it. 

    In 1960, the PAC, a splinter group of the ANC, organized a country wide peaceful protest where Black South Africans were encouraged to surrender their pass books, and invite arrest for doing so.  These pass books limited travel and access to areas of South Africa to Black South Africans.  20 000  gathered in Sharpeville, 50 kilometres outside Johannesburg.  According to police, some demonstrators threw rocks at armoured vehicles.  In response, the police opened fire with machine guns, killing 69 and wounding at least 180, including women and children.

     Because of this violent reaction to a peaceful protest and the South African Government declaring the ANC and PAC illegal, Mandela was moved to more desperate measures.  He organized a secret military movement.  In 1962, he was arrested and imprisoned for treason and conspiracy.  

    He was first imprisoned to Robben Island, 7 miles of the coast of Capetown.  He was transferred to other prisons and spent his final years of imprisonment in Victor Vestor near the city of Pearl.  Mandela was in prison for 27 years, but during that time he was a symbol behind whom the oppressed fighting for human rights rallied.

    On February 11 1990, FW De Klerk, the President of South African, released Nelson Mandela and made ANC no longer illegal. In 1993 Nelson Mandela won the Nobel Peace Prize with De Klerk for a (relatively) peaceful transition to democracy.  In 1994, Nelson Mandela was elected President of South Africa in the first truly representative election. 

    As President, Mandela became the Father of Modern South Africa by tearing down an oppressive government and laying a foundation for true democracy.  Mandela believed in forgiveness not revenge which tempered anger among Black South Africans. In 1996, Mandela signed a new South African Constitution in Sharpeville as a commemoration to the tragic events of 1960. 

 "Forgiveness liberates the soul. It removes fear.  That is why it is such a powerful weapon."

    In 1999, Nelson Mandela retired as President and created The Nelson Mandela Foundation which worked to improve social conditions in South Africa, including taking action to combat the spread of AIDS.  

    This post has become a bit of a history lesson, but I hope I can make my point clear.  One person can change the world.  We are not meant to be Nelson Mandela; only he was destined to walk his path.  But it does not mean that our path is any less significant.  Changing the world does not require monument worthy actions.  Smiling at people can change a person's day.  Saying please and thank you does not just mean that you know manners, but you are teaching manners to others. Send a note to a friend with whom you have not spoken in a while.  The smallest actions can make the biggest difference to another person and then, pass it on.  

www.apartheidmuseum.org

www.dosomething.org

www.news18.com

www.natgeokids.org

www.britannica.com

www.biography.yourdictionary.com

www.humanrights.ca

Equality for All?

 I am sure that we are all aware of the leaked US Supreme Court draft decision, written by His Honour Alito, that, if past, will over turn Roe v. Wade.  The Roe v. Wade decision of 1973 secured the right of American women to seek an abortion without government interference.  It was my original intention to go into a long rant about how horrible this is for women, in the US, but as I researched, another broader issue came to mind.  Why does it seem that most people in an uproar about this are women.  When any citizen is denied a right or freedom, all citizens suffer.  

There are many studies, by the UN, Australia and many social organization that conclude that when there is complete gender equality, everyone benefits.  Company profits increase, Gross Domestic Product increases, poverty is decreases, violent crime against women and children decreases which frees up more funds to be used in curbing other types of crime.  

So, since this is the case, why are men not as pissed off as women.  I am tired of hearing from men that tell me they are not interested in women's issues, especially health concerns.  Why is it so hard for a man to hear about menstruation, cramps, ovulation, and menopause. Do you have a mother, a sister, a daughter?  If you do and you love them at all, why are you not as concerned as they are?  

Honestly, men need to get over it.  If most women can discuss erectile dysfunction, prostate cancer and testicular cancer, why are some men so disgusted by "women parts?" Everything that I listed above are natural body functions, not sorcery or a strange mutation.  But for some reason, women are supposed to keep all of it a secret for what; to prevent men from some discomfort?  The point is that none of these should cause discomfort, any more than premature ejaculation should cause discomfort to women.  By the way, I am not uncomfortable with men's reproductive health concerns, nor should any women.

This to me is another indication that women have a long way to go before we can be considered full citizens of the world.  Until we get to the point when there is no such thing as "Women's Health Issues" and just Health Issues, we will always be marginalized.  The fact that a separate government department has to be created to have women issues addressed, is proof positive that governments, which are dominated by men, do not see female citizens as equal.  

Excuse my language, but WTF.  Are governments so short sighted that they don't realize that leaving half of a countries population behind, for the sake of power and control, harms everyone?  Is "sharing the wealth" for the benefit of all so incomprehensible?  If so, why? Egomania, power addiction, a need to compensate for believed deficiencies?  

Again, I say GET OVER IT!  WE ARE ALL SUFFERING.

A Long Time Coming.

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 This week Pope Francis I gave what some called a heart felt apology to the the Indigenous, First Nations, Métis and Inuit people of Canada for the atrocities of the more than 100 years of the residential school systems of Canada. It was long over due.  I am not sure that everyone understands what these children endured in the name of religion and a policy of assimilation. 

Assimilation is, in my opinion, a form of cultural genocide.  How dare anyone of any religion make efforts to  eradicate another's faith, culture and language.  

    "The content of faith cannot be transmitted in a way contrary to the faith itself."

These are the words of Pope Francis I.  It is exactly what the Canadian Government and various religions tried to accomplish.  If the cultures have not been erased, considerable damage was done. 

Residential school operated from 1870's to the 1990's in Canada, except the provinces of Prince Edward Island, New Brunswick and Newfoundland.  The last residential school was closed in 1996, in Saskatchewan. This is only 2 years before my son was born.  I was born in 1970. If I would have been part of an Indigenous community, I probably would have been forced to attend such an institution.  This is a very sobering thought. 

It is estimated that at least 150 000 children were stolen from their homes, families and villages for their own "education and welfare."  This happened after those very same communities were forced off their ancestral lands by the policy of colonization.  It boggles my mind how anyone could honestly think that this would be beneficial to the various peoples indigenous to what is now Canada.

In fact, these communities were considered "a problem."  

    '...if anything is to be done with the Indian, we must catch him young.  The children must be kept constantly within the circle of civilized conditions." Nicholas Flood Davin. Report on Industrial School for Indians and Half Breeds. 1879.

    "I want to get rid of the Indian problem...Our objective is to continue until there is not a single Indian in Canada that has not been absorbed in the body of politic and there is no Indian question and no Indian Department." Hon. Duncan Campbell. Deputy Minister of Indian Affairs. 1920.

In 1920, it became mandatory for any Indigenous child of the ages of 7 to 16 years old to attend residential schools and in 1933 legal guardianship of these children were assumed by the principals of the school after being forcibly surrendered by their parents.

The religions that operated the residential schools include Anglican, Catholic, Methodist, Presbyterian, Menonites and others.  The Catholic Church operated 70% of the schools funded by the Canadian Government.  There were also schools operated without this funding.  I was unable to find any records or reports on these schools.  This being said, it would not surprise me if their practices were any different than those with the official approval and financial support of the federal, and provincial governments.

In my research, I could not find any record of a positive experience by any student.  In fact, what I discovered was worse than I could have imagined.  Students were forbidden to speak their language, being allowed to communicate in English or French only.  Punishment for a transgression could include a needle through the tongue.  Among other rules were that students had to convert to whatever religious beliefs of the school and wear "appropriate uniforms."  Children were separated by gender and siblings were separated.  

There was a lack of a nutritional diet and often not enough food or only spoiled food.  If a child became sick as a result, they were made to eat their own vomit. There was widespread physical, emotional and psychological abuse.  This could include beatings, with fists, leather straps or other tools.  Some of these beatings could result in the student falling into unconsciousness. At St. Anne's School in Fort Albany, Ontario there was an electric chair. Sexual abuse was widespread and systematic. If a pregnancy resulted, abortions were performed.  

In 1992 a 7 year investigation into the abuses at St. Anne's by the OPP, headed by Constable Greg Delguidice was done after the survivors approached the authorities.  It consisted of thousands of reported abuses by both religious and lay staff and teachers.  After the 2008 official apology by the Right Honourable Prime Minister Stephen Harper an agreement was made that in exchange for not suing the government, residential school survivors would be "properly compensated" according to a Truth and Reconciliation Agreement. To add insult to injury, many of the claims were denied for lack of a evidence and it was deemed that there was no sexual abuse at all.  The Federal government claimed that they were not in possession of the results of the OPP 1992 Investigation.  A claimed denied by the Constable who conducted the investigation.

I have chosen not to go into to many of the details of the reported abuse as it was graphic and more than upsetting.  They can been found by visiting the websites listed below.  

The next time you hear someone complain about continued payments to the Indigenous peoples of Canada, remind them of these facts.  How many parents would sue their Municipal government if their child broke their arm at a public park and expect compensation.  If this is the case, to what are survivors and families of Residential Schools entitled, after over a 100 years of systematic abuse.  

Sources:

bbc.com

anishinabek.ca

cbc.ca/fifthestate S44 E12

What’s in a Name?

I have recently seen an advertisement on television from Mastercard informing us that they have a new card called True Name. For some of us, this may seem insignificant. All our identification bears our name. What’s the big deal?  For some it is monumental. 

I have to admit that I did not know that having a card in my wallet not bearing my name was even a thing. But I am not part of the LBGTQ+ community. Some times I’m unaware of issues that affect others. I don’t believe that is intentional, as I don’t think it is for most. In fact, I am naïve enough to take for granted that people, companies and government would be timely in adapting to the needs of ALL people. I know. It’s not only naïve but perhaps even delusional. 

The struggles of those who identify as any marginalized group are real, whether I, or anyone, understand them or not. I do my best to understand, empathize and support them in any way I can. But, since I don’t live their life, there will be struggles that I don’t immediately see. This is the case here. 

When a person identifies themselves as a gender other than their physical state at birth, I can only imagine the turmoil in which they live. This is not as simple as getting a new hair cut or colour to match what you feel. Your very physical being does not match who you really are. 

After this, there must be fear; fear of family reaction, fear of school, and fear of how will your friends react. What about transition?

Wouldn’t it be great if they could look forward to love, support and acceptance?  Honestly, I don’t know why this is not the case. I guess it’s my delusions and naivety rearing their beautiful heads again. 

Perhaps it’s fear that causes some people to react the way they do. I’m not a huge Stars Wars fan, but Yoda says some pretty great things. One of which is: “Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.”  Fear of the unknown is natural. But instead of submitting to that fear, seek knowledge.  It’s not as hard as you may think. There is information all around you, just look or ask. You will be enlightened and perhaps find compassion and understanding. This makes fear and judgement impossible. 

So I come back the the ad by Mastercard. I commend and congratulate them for this step. Acknowledging our differences and acting accordingly is brave in the corporate world. I am sure there will be backlash. And if you listen to the ad, you will learn that the LBGQ+ community want what we all want and need. It is a great spiritual need to be loved and belong. I see no reason why this basic need is not freely given. I hope that this goes beyond ground breaking. I want it to be something that will go without saying. 

Happy St Patrick’s Day.

I was going to write a long history of the man who was St. Patrick, including his lineage and how St. Patrick’s Day became such a big deal for so many people. But I reconsidered and thought only a brief bio was necessary. 

I will say that he was a man who was born in England and  kidnapped to Ireland. After his escape from Irish slavery and return to his family, he returned to Ireland as a missionary. It was reported that he performed miracles, including bring back people from the dead. He was in danger, but continued to preach Christianity to Ireland. 

There have been legends about St. Patrick as well. According to some, he drove all the snakes from Ireland. It is also told that he explained the Holy Trinity to the Irish by using a shamrock; three leaves on one stem and one plant. 

The most important thing I want to say is the following: 

May you always have a coin in your pocket. 

May the wind always be at your back, and

May you be in Heaven half an hour before the devil knows you’re dead. 

Happy St. Patrick’s Day. 

What is a Good Education

This is probably not the most interesting topic, nonetheless it is the most important. I was educated in the Separate School System in Northern Ontario.I attended JK to Grade 8 in French and Grade 9 to 13 in English. I also attended York University and graduated with a HBA degree in Sociology and a Minor in Psychology. I am not sharing this information to brag but to explain my background and possible reasons for this post. 

All of this book learning was great and I think it was important and has definitely contributed my successes. However, I certainly don’t believe that it is the end all and be all of education. In fact, the most important lesson I ever learned was at my family dinner table, every night. As I grew up, the problems of the world were tabled, discussed and solve at every evening. I learned to think and I learned to question. 

I am grateful for this. It saved me from blind obedience. It gave me compassion for others in dire situations. It opened my mind to the opinions of others. It made me teachable from everyone and anyone I met. 

I became aware that any social or historical event is never black or white; right or wrong. I cannot jump to a conclusion without proper investigation. Most importantly, if I have an opinion, I damn well better be able to back it up. 

I am presently working on the other side of the desk so to speak. I am teaching at the Oxford Learning Centre in Bradford Ontario. Its program centres around asking questions and knowing the why of any topic. It motivates the brain to retain information because it is always is connected to what you already know. 

It has become obvious to me that this type of learning and questioning is not something that most students know. I am not blaming teachers or parents or any educational professionals. I am sure I am not the only individual who has made this observation. The question is what to do about it. 

Part of my responsibility as a parent is to prepare my children for the world. This includes the good and the bad. If they are to be contributing members of society they must know to question everything they hear or read. What is being said? Why is it being said? By whom is being said? And what interest does “the whom” have in what is being said?  By asking these questions, my children are able to make well educated decisions in their lives and in the process change the world. Every child should be given that chance. They are all our future. 

I am not putting the responsibility of this type of learning on any one person or institution. A lot can be said for the idea that it takes a village to raise a child. I believe in a united team of schools, parents, and others to instil the skill of thinking in our youth. This is the most important skill that anyone can learn. It opens them up to endless knowledge.