Growing into Fearlessness

Courage

• The ability to do something that frightens you
• Strength in the face of pain or grief

Courage has been much on my mind lately.  Courage to make necessary changes.  Courage to step into the unknown. Courage to follow that path less traveled to pursue a dream.   Courage to live our best and only life.

I’m reading “Hotel Honolulu” by one of my favourite writers, Paul Theroux.  A story of a writer whose life implodes and he retreats to Hawaii, broke, unable to write and ends up managing a seedy Waikiki hotel.  Maybe not one of his most literary efforts, but the interwoven stories of the characters follows a thread of lives well-lived, lives wasted, unexamined lives and the few that decided they didn’t give a f*uck and lived unconventional lives on their own terms, for better or worse.   One of characters, Benno Nevermann, started out with zero advantages and made his fortune by inventing a weather-proof window frame.  After selling the company, he spends his time traveling the world, searching for people from his past to discover what had become of them.  This is the paragraph that I keep going back to:

“Old girlfriends, old enemies, old bosses, competitors from the past – they necessitated his groping in the wonderful tunnel of time, searching for clues.  Why had so few people succeeded? Why had so many failed?  But for most of them nothing at all had happened except that time had passed and they had grown older; he found them living in the same town, on the same street, in the same house.”

Nothing at all had happened except time had passed and they had grown older.  That sounds like the worst indictment for a wasted life I can imagine.  But taking a diversion, or making a permanent re-route in life takes courage, a lot of courage.  Staying with the known and familiar is easier, it might have it’s own price, but it requires little effort.

For those of us blessed, or burdened, with a gypsy soul, it’s always going to be about the unknown, the unfamiliar, the uneasy.  Are we just born courageous, is it an inborn trait?  Maybe, but it can also be learned by practicing courageous behavior until small (or maybe large) successes help us develop the self-confidence to know we can step into the unknown and overcome obstacles. By practicing courageous acts we can grow into fearlessness.

“Courage is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at the testing point.”  C. S. Lewis

How can we practice being courageous?

1. Choose to act even in the face of our fears.
2. Follow your heart and intuition. Everything else is secondary (thanks Steve Jobs, his Stanford Commencement address is something I come back to often).
3. Persevere when times get tough, be braver five minutes longer.  Transitions are hard, but stick with them and they become our new reality.
4. Knowing that you are standing up for what is right will give you strength.
5. Let go of the familiar and expand your horizons.  Life is only as large as our courage to experience it.
6. And when things go wrong, when you are lonely and sad (as will inevitably happen) face it with dignity and the knowledge that all things pass.  The ability to sit with the tough times and know you are already on your way to moving through them, will give you courage to keeping moving forward.

(original back cover of the final Whole Earth catalogue)

I love it when serendipitous things happen.  As I was finishing up this post I was thinking, well damn, what am I going to use for music?  Then Stand Up for Something by the feisty and supremely talented Andra Day popped on the NPR Tiny Desk rotation I was listening to!  Serendipity indeed.

Stand Up for Something – Andra Day

 

Happy Anniversary

A year ago today I published my first blog post. What a year it’s been.  86 posts to date with an incredible 353 subject tags and more than 2,500 views.   Have to say I’m more than a little proud of that.  I was sitting here thinking “I’m pretty sure I’ve posted every week for an entire year” when it occured to me:   52 weeks in a year / 86 posts = more than one post per week.  Wow.   (note: math is not my strong suit).  Still haven’t been  Freshly Pressed – I’d probably have more luck  if I was more focused and had only say 50 subject tags – guess I have to write for another year.       

When I started writing my blog about living by my own rules,  Colouring Outside the Lines was my very first post.   I just went back and read that post for the first time in a long time and you know what – it’s still all true.  I wouldn’t change a word and I’m so glad I went back to remind myself of why I started.   Blogging is one of the most personally rewarding things I’ve ever done.   It hasn’t all been a sea of congratulations – I’ve had to take some criticism and I’ve been taken to task more than once for my opinions.  But  I read,  I think, I talk and I write.   And I love doing it all.  One of my more outspoken friends posted this pic on her FB Wall – in the time I’ve known her she’s been more than a little political, more than a little outspoken, but always totally interesting.  I love reading her posts every day because it’s the differences that make the world so fascinating.  Imagine if we all thought, believed and acted in exactly the same way?   Very positively reinforcing, but boring as all f**k.   And I don’t really want my friends and readers to go away –  I need you all – I just thought this was funny – but that probably makes me weird, right?

What else did I do this year – well I quit my job and got a new one.  That was one of my early posts,   Holy S**t I Quit My Job.  Might have been the best, smartest move I ever made.  It involved a HUGE leap of faith, but I haven’t regretted it for one second.  I’m working harder than I’ve ever done, but I’m learning more and it’s just so damn interesting. Even the tough days are interesting (ok, today when I wanted to cry was a stretch, but I’m over it. Just tired.  Need a vaca).  And I’d rather be challenged than bored, so all in, I can’t wait to see what the next year brings

I’ve done some crazy stuff – like a LOT of crazy stuff.   When I first started doing things like say . . following my favourite bands around on tour . . .it seemed really  crazy and out there.  I’d been living this totally predictable life where people simply did not do things like go on tour with a band.   And I was dying inside.  But now that I know I”m not alone, and in fact have met so many people  who love to do things like see their favourite musicians a whole bunch of times, who think that going to music festivals is pretty much the best way ever invented to spend a summer weekend – it’s not that strange anymore. I just needed to broaden my horizons.    Check out We’re not Groupies, We’re Band-Aids, that was a great night.

I’ve traveled – OMG, have I traveled.  Kayaking in the Sea of Cortez – Halloween and New Years in Vegas (technically those were in two different years, ok!), white water rafting trips, California – San Francisco is officially my favourite city anywhere – camping at Warped Tour at the Gorge  – that was completely over the top.  And upcoming . . .well off to Cabo on Sunday for some “sunshine and alcohol”  – look out Squid Row, here we come.  And finally – the most epic festival of them all – Burning Man.  Cannot  wait.  Hope we survive to tell the tales – and that there is anything at all that is publishable!!!   We all have choices, I made mine.  Not to say it’s for everyone,  just that it’s for me and I’m loving it.   (that’s the caveat on shooting off my mouth, yet again). 

I’ve written some funny posts  and I’ve written some very personal posts – Fragile Bird just wouldn’t get out of my head until I wrote it out.   Sometimes I shoot from the hip with whatever I’m thinking, or is really pissing me off –  my blog is a great form of therapy – so it’s pretty much a given that going forward I’m going to be eating my words more than once.  And if I was wrong about a few things (haha, not if – I was!!)  . . .oh well, it was totally worth it.   I never said I got it all right, all the time.   I’m making this up as I go.  And in the end it’s the act of writing that I love,  so I plan to keep on writing until I run out of things to say. 

If the past year has been one of reinvention, or more properly, rediscovery, then I truly can’t wait to see what the next year has in store for me.  There are some interesting turns on the road ahead and if I can say that about my life, then I must be doing something right.  Stay tuned. 

I got a second chance to live the life I choose, on my terms, and I really did grab hold of it for all it’s worth.  

On heavy rotation . . .I was recently introduced to the incredible Grace Potter and the Nocturnals.   Wow, totally blown away with both her voice and attitude.   Love listening to the “Live at the Fillmore” record (it’s San Francisco!) on my morning commute – a bit of rock ‘n roll attitude to start the grey flannel day.

Lost and Found

” A ring is a halo on your finger” – Douglas Coupland

Every so often, we all get our own little miracles, things that reaffirm our faith in basic goodness.   I was lucky enough to have one of those recently and the timing could not have been more propitious.  Summer if often a time of shorter days and lighter workloads in the business world, as people take vacations and spend time on the golf course.  But for a variety of reasons, my work remained challengingly busy all summer.   Add that to an incredibly fun personal schedule of summer concerts and festivals, wine touring and camping and it’s felt a lot like burning the candle at both ends for the last month or so.  August saw something of a dearth of blog posts – I barely had time to sleep and laundry was a forgotten dream.   It felt like all that was coming to a dreadful end as I slogged my way through the logistics of yet another round of conference planning.     One of the “team events” saw me on Granville Island, at the end of an exhausting day, competing in an “Amazing Race” event.   I hadn’t wanted to go, but sometimes the best ending come from the most dubious beginnings.  You just never know when your own little miracle is waiting around the corner.

 

Our teams were all equipped with GPS’s and given hand drawn maps of Granville Island, with 2 hours to collect as many clues as possible.  Being a bunch of intensely competitive Type A’s, we all took off at a run and were soon causing no small amount of mayhem in the public market, boutiques and byways of the island.   One of our last clues found us at the Alder Bay dragonboat dock searching for a “rope to pull” clue.   One of the guys spotted a rope hanging into the water off the dock, ran down and started manfully hauling up a crab trap holding a plastic pig.     His exuberant efforts came to a bad end, however, as he watched his wedding ring catch on the rope, slip off his finger and go through the slats of the dock into the dark and very dirty waters of Alder Bay.   It was not how we saw our adventure ending.   Turns out he had been married all of 6 weeks and despite the urgings of his new bride he had not yet taken his custom-made, engraved ring in to be resized.   Pretty much a disaster and it definitely cast a pall over the rest of the evening.   By the end of the night, after a few bottles of wine, I had been tasked with finding a diver who would try to recover the missing ring . . .do they think I’m a miracle worker?

By early next morning the incredibly capable and proactive Jono at Pinnacle Pursuits had emailed me with the contact information for a diver who was willing to go down and take a look for the ring.  A quick call found our intrepid diver on the dock, in his wetsuit, ready to go in  – all for the princely sum of $200.   Have at it, I said, expecting to shell out 200 clams for nada.   But some special guardian angel was looking after that ring, because not 10 minutes later I got the call that he was up and had the ring in hand.  Unbelievable.

A halo on your finger

I delivered the ring back to its rightful owner and as he said to me, sometime you just have to believe in miracles, because he really thought his wedding ring was gone forever and a replacement ring would always be, well, a replacement ring.  And now they really DO think I’m a miracle worker, and I’m not going to dissuade them.

Things lost and things found has been a theme in my life for the past couple of weeks, and it all started with the lost and found ring.  One of the losts was all mine and you would think that, knowing from the beginning that the end had already been written I would have been better prepared when the time came, but I wasn’t.    And I had to do battle with that green-eyed beast, jealousy, which I found both surprising and unbecoming as it’s not something we cerebral Aquarians see in ourselves.  I definitely wasn’t at my best for a while, but I’ve found my equilibrium again.  There’s a song lyric that goes “friends, lovers or nothing, there can only be one…there’ll never be an in-between“, but something I’ve learned is that there is always an in-between if we can only remain open to the possibilities. 

And a couple of founds – one for me personally and one for a very good friend.  A friend that I have known since high school found a lost love – they have been apart for 20+ years and lived a lot of life in the in-between times.  When they told me I wasn’t even that surprised, it was one of those moments when you just sort of feel the cogs of the universe drop back into place, it just seemed so right.  There is (I hope) a much longer blog to come – it’s a fantastic story – and I get the rights because apparently my “live life to the max” writing helped inspire the reunion.  How incredible to think that something I wrote led to a friend transforming their life in such a positive way.  I’m thrilled and humbled. 

My own found was so surprising, I still don’t quite know what to make of it and as I’m writing this I’ve only just realized that the timing was nothing short of astonishing.  I hope it will be another really good story someday soon.  There is a sense in my life just now of wheels turning within wheels, of pieces of a puzzle dropping into place, of events coming into alignment.  I had some things to learn (or maybe relearn is a better way of putting it) and I think, no I know, because I had a great tutor, that I’ve done that – so my “lost” was not really a loss, it was a huge, awesome, WOW.   Long before I read The Alchemist I would always say that if your life seems really difficult, it’s because you are on the wrong path and that when you get on the right path it all just gets so much easier – doors open and the universe does seem to conspire to help you.   So I think I must be on the right path, because so many amazingly wonderful things just keep on happening.   Yes, there are some tough moments, but they are all part of the bigger plan.  One of my challenges is learning the patience to wait for events to unfold as they should, to give up the illusion of control I thought I needed and had over every detail.  And to remember to be thankful for the people who become part of the journey, because we are part of each others’ journey and it’s neither good or bad, it is just as it’s meant to be. Part of this adventure is that it’s a ride I”m not in control of.  I’m just going to have to appreciate every moment of it and roll with whatever comes my way.  I can’t wait to see where it’s going.  

I’ve had some old Counting Crows on heavy rotation this past week – for me it’s always about the lyrics and Adam Duritz is so incredibly talented.  I’m once again thankful for that breeding ground of talent, the San Francisco Bay area – home of (almost) all of my fav bands.  Goodnight Elizabeth is a song of regret and such amazing storytelling, I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.    I was captivated by the imagery, and especially “If you wrap yourself in daffodils, I will wrap myself in pain, If you are the Queen of California, baby I’m the king of pain”.   To be able to write like that *sigh*.

It was a really good day

I worked a long day today – 11 straight hours in one meeting – from 7am until 6pm.  Then went out for an amazing dinner and drank an unreasonably expensive, but incredibly good, bottle of Pinot.  It was exhilarating and exhausting in equal parts.  I was enthralled with the sunset from the bridge on the way home, not only because it was stunning, but because it was the first time today I got to see what a gorgeous summer day it was and who knows how many more we might have in this the afternoon of the year, to quote Mr. Thoreau.

It was a very good day. If I didn’t have to do it all over again tomorrow, I’d stay up and write more. That and maybe I’d be tempted to write and post with a certain lowering of inhibitions. . . . 

It was a really good day.  

And for every one of those that rolls my way, I’m so thankful.  

Here’s a song I love from Train – it’s not deep, it’s not dark, it’s not tormented, but the image of a parachute . . .washing the words and pain away . . .beautiful.

Musings from a (sometimes) tofu munching hippie chick

“Here’s to the crazy ones, the misfits, the rebels… the troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. Because the ones who are crazy enough to think they can change the world… are the ones who do.”‘

I’ve always felt like a bit of a round peg in a square hole and I’ve never doubted that I see things differently.  A quick stroll through my blog will out me on that fast enough.  And having spent time living in some interesting places like Salt Spring Island, I guess I also qualify as a bit of a hippie chick.   It was while living on Salt Spring that I first got seriously into the three “R”s of sustainability – reduce, recycle and reuse.    At the time there was no garbage pick up on Salt Spring for the simple expedient that there was no garbage dump on the island – if you want to dispose of a bag of garbage, you had to take it down to the local market and meet the off-island truck that came over once a week and actually hand over your hard-earned cash to have it taken away – at the time it was $2.00/bag.  

Couple the inconvenience with the cost and most island residents learned really fast how to reduce their garbage output.   I can recall my mom coming to visit me and being at best bemused and at worst horrified that I washed out plastic bags, tins, bottles and then took them to the recycling depot.  Blue boxes are common now, but even a few years ago recycling was a novelty.   I started my first compost bin there and have had one everywhere I have lived ever since  – even here in my townhouse.  It works like a charm, it’s not smelly and doesn’t attract animals and the output keeps my garden glorious. 

What got me thinking about all this was an award-winning eco-comedy (as it bills itself) called How to Boil a Frog  that I watched recently.  It caught my attention for a couple of reasons:  it was shot in my hometown of North Vancouver by a local guy, Jon Cooksey,  it was really funny and it was really sensible.    One of the  basic premises of the movie  is that we simply use too much stuff and we can’t buy or shop our way out by buying “green” or “sustainable” or “eco-friendly” stuff.   We have to just stop producing, buying and using more stuff.   Here’s the trailer – you can appreciate Jon’s humourous style and sensible approach  – you don’t have to become a tofu munching vegetarian – just give up beef.   My little hippie girl daughter decided to try out a vegetarian lifestyle about a year ago and convinced me to join her and we have been quietly and happily reaping those benefits  for the past year.  And who knew that a condom was one of the best ways of saving the planet!

The film  got me thinking about how to simply consume less – not just keep consuming “better” or “greener” stuff, but just to simply buy, use, own  – less.   That’s where The Compact comes in.  The Compact is a movement that started in, of course, San Francisco, whose goal is to:

1) go beyond recycling in trying to counteract the negative global environmental and socioeconomic impacts of U.S. consumer culture, to resist global corporatism and to support local businesses, farms, etc; 2) to reduce clutter and waste in our homes (as in trash Compact-er); 3) to simplify our lives (as in Calm-pact).

I don’t think I’m committed enough to go the Full Monty  – signing up and agreeing to buy nothing new for an entire year.  Exceptions are made for things like food, toiletries, medications,  but everything else has to be bought second-hand, or traded or bartered for.    Think of living your whole life for a year off Craigslist.  Intriguing, but difficult.  But I am seriously all about reducing that amount of stuff that I have and simplifying my life.   I’ve started thinking of “stuff” as an ever-hungry beast – you have to keep working to feed the beast.  We stop owning our possessions and they start owning us and the only way to get off that treadmill is to just have less.   Less stuff = more freedom.   And I like freedom, a whole lot. 

And even if I can’t make that sort of whole life commitment, I am  trying to be mindful of the decisions, small and large, that I make every day: commuting to work (I take the bus), lunch and dinner choices (think local and sustainable – no strawberries from Chile in December) , buying coffee, choosing a vacation spot, and cleaning my home and clothes. Or better yet, stop and ask myself “do I really need that” and maybe decide no, what I already own is just fine.   I don’t need more stuff, what I really need is more time, more experiences, more life. So while reduce, reuse, and recycle is good, rethinking the way I act and live every day to simply consume less has so much more appeal.

At the same time, I won’t save the world on my own by eliminating all the conveniences of my everyday life in one drastic sweep.  I love to travel and I’m not ready (at least yet) to give up flying, even if I have a twinge of conscience every time those jet engines fire up.   I’m hooked on my electronic gadgets – I’m not going without my smartphone, my computer or my iPod, although I don’t rush right out to buy the latest gizmo and the computer I’m working on right now is at least 7 years old – practically neolithic.    But it still gets the job done, so I’ve stopped thinking about that shiny new laptop and I’m just going to keep plugging away with this one till it dies completely. 

Those are the sort of small, everyday decisions I’m working on.  It will take time, but small adjustments will add up. So before you buy, use, consume, throw away or waste your next item, maybe rethink your choice and consider if there is another alternative.

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful committed citizens can change the world…”

A really interesting, thought-provoking  online magazine I’ve been reading for a while is Urban Times.   Check it out, I love that it bills itself as not only forward-thinking, but optimistic, which is a rarity. 

Soundtrack for this post . . .hmmm reaching waaaay back and exposing even more of my hippiness . . . I was watching PBS a while ago when the James Taylor/Carole King “Live at the Troubadour” concert came on.   It’s an amazing show, even if it’s not your usual taste in music.   Their obvious love of the music, of each other and sheer joy in their craft is just infectious.   And there is a harmony that James does on this track, whose lyrics are timeless, that gives me goosebumps every time.  A couple of true craftsmen doing what they do best, just a pleasure.

Social Post Moderators Wanted (via White Elephant in the Room)

When I sat down to write tonight, I thought I was indulging in the ultimate bloggers cheat – reblogging someone else’s great idea. But it’s turned out to be less of a cheat and more of a door opener – I’ve been most uncharacteristically suffering from writer’s block and this post has given me a way into my post  and a form to write around.  It’s not unusual for me to have a whole bunch of ideas but to lac  a form, a story, one great line to hang those ideas on –  and that’s the tough part to come up with.

This writer’s block thing really sucks.  Yeah, I know, not exactly English Lit – but it does, it sucks.  When I first started writing I had, and this is the most accurate term I can come up with, a muse.   An inspiration that got me started writing and who I often wrote TO.   Not about, because I don’t think that’s the role of a muse, but I’d write with my muse in mind, try out ideas and phrases, see how it would sound to them.   Ideas came to me and I’d write like I was telling it to them, and it’s been a fantastic way to shape my writing, my ideas, my thoughts.  Now I’m writing without that benefit, and I have to say, its tough.   But it’s one of the things I left behind  . . .so I’m now flying without a net.  Damn it. 

But it occurred to me as I started to write tonight that  “no muse” is not quite right, or maybe not completely right.  The other part is that this year had become for me a year of consolidation.  After three years of constant change, upheaval and drama I’m now consolidating all those changes.   Everything of significance in my life has changed – my marriage, my home, my job, my family – and me.  I barely recognize myself or my life anymore and I am intoxicated by that.  But after all the change, all the drama, all the excitement, I’m settling into my new routine and new life.  And settling is tough.  I’m such a junkie that I keep thinking up new ways to generate some excitement and drama – yup, that’s emotionally healthy, don’t I know it.

Who wouldn't rather be here . . Whitsunday Islands, Australia

 Taking a 2 – 3 month leave of absence and going traveling  – I”m SOOOOO captivated by that idea right now.   I keep getting updates from my daughter, who as I write is sailing and diving in the Whitsunday’s in Australia, and all I want to do is pack a bag and get out on the road for a while – a long while.   But six months into a new job – I don’t think they would really be thrilled if I asked for 3 months off.   So I will have to possess myself in patience, plan and wait.  And maybe throw a little drama in there from time to time – like say maybe a trip to Vegas!!!  Hell yes, Vegas baby. Heading to Sin City on June 1 – planning on stirring up a little excitement in my life. 

Vegas Baby - what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas

And here is the original blog I was reposting  – it’s a funny take on those people who feel the need to post status updates about the everyday moments in their life, but without benefit of humour, thought or some decent writing.  I’m lucky that most of my friends have really interesting lives and their status updates are funny, interesting and informative.   They travel so I get to travel vicariously with them and sigh over the exotic locales in their photos, they have interesting hobbies, so I get to learn about diving and triathlon and wine tasting and miniatures and dozens of other interesting things.  They have beautiful children and I love to see how a new generation of parents are doing it.  And they are funny – some of those late night mobile uploads are just hilarious  – and no you didn’t dream it, you really did it!!!   There are one or two who post scintillating updates about how they love coffee and Justin Bieber and just ordered pizza, but those are thankfully scarce on my FB . . .so thanks to my friends for being so interesting, I love hearing about your lives and enjoying a vicarious thrill.

The wingchick and I got out to see a really excellent punk show last week, the headliners were one of her favourite “back in the day” Vancouver punk bands, The Pointed Sticks.  And although they certainly look a lot different than these still shots from 1978  they still sound fantastic.  Thanks guys!

In my social networks, I have a few friends with consistently fantastic, virtual-high-five-worthy status updates. They crack me up, they teach me new things, and they challenge me to up my game. So it is with no length of time spent and little deliberation that I’ve determined a new level of checks and balances should be introduced to our social networks. It’s time to place a moratorium on social freedom of speech. Much like the first comment pos … Read More

via White Elephant in the Room

Every day has it’s own Awesome Things – just be open to them

You know how sometimes last night can leak over into today and set your day off wrong.  That was me this morning.   Some halfwit kept texting my HOME PHONE, which would ring and I’d get a message from a disembodied mechanical voice saying something profound like “hey, you there dude” – a literal translation of the text.  Nice.  I could have turned it off, but my lovely daughter was out partying (she’s leaving for Australia on the weekend) so I kept thinking (fearing) it was her.  So no sleep for me.  

I was feeling pretty damn cranky this morning  – I slept in, it was pouring rain when I went out at 6am to walk the pooch and I was tired from double shifting it after work at my last couple of sword fighting classes (a whole other post) and the start of my dragonboat practices for the season.   It was shaping up to be a crap day. 

Then a simple little grace note came into my morning.  In a desperate scramble to get dressed I came upon a brand new pair of lace tights, still in their wrapper.  Sorry guys, I know you won’t get this one (and if you do for goodness sake please don’t share) but new tights are so smooth and fresh and silky – one of life’s little treats.  Awesome #1. Then I went to the closet and found my fav little black dress  – still in fresh dry cleaner wrap.  Awesome #2.  My morning was starting  to turn around. 

I got a seat on the bus and one of my favourite songs came on when I hit shuffle on the iTouch (Awesomes #3 and #4).  The song’s “Wounded” written by Stephan Jenkins from Third Eye Blind.   I love, love, love these lyrics – I hope you do, here is the video and I put the lyrics below, they are poetry.  I wonder how Charlize feels about it, but heck if you are in a relationship with someone who writes songs like this, you have to know that sooner or later you are going to end up in a song.  

The guy who put his hands on you
Has got nothing to do with me
And the bruises that you feel will heal
And I hope you come around
Cause we’re missing you
You used to speak so easy
Now you’re afraid to talk to me

It’s like walking with the wounded
Carrying that weight way too far
The concrete pulled you down so hard
Out there with the wounded
Missing you

Well I never claimed to understand
What happens after dark
But my fingers catch sparks at the thought of touching you
When you’re wounded

Let me break it down till I force the issue
We miss your face and you know I wish you
Would come back down to the Dalva Bar
You tell them, that’s just my battle scar
I want to kiss you
And knock them down like we used to
You’re the marigold
Till you’re walking down shaking that ass again
And then you walk on baby walk on
You walk on
On and on
You’re an angel in the pit with her hands in the air
And we’re missing you

Now its fall, and your shoulders get tighter
Nervous flicks on the lighter, boots
Your pissed off poets, your women’s groups
And the friends with you, we should have known this fool
Well I guess we missed the mark
Still my fingers catch the sparks at the thought of
Them touching you
Now you’re wounded

Let me break it down till I force the issue
You never come around, and you know we miss you
Well nobody took your pride away, I said
That’s something people say
Back down the bully to the back of the bus
Cause it’s time for them to be scared of us
Till you’re yelling, how we living cause you got the ball
Then you rock on baby, rock on, your rock on
On and on
You’re a summer time hottie with her socks in the air
Screaming I don’t care baby I don’t care

You say you don’t know
You say you don’t grow
All I know is we’re missing you

You say you don’t know
You say you don’t grow
All I know is we’re missing you

Show up
Show up wounded

My very favourite line is “my fingers catch sparks at the thought of touching you”  – Awesome #5 (or maybe 4a).  And if you have now, or ever had in the past, someone in your life that engenders that sort of passion – that’s a double Awesome Thing.

Awesome #6 – discovered my phone was dead but that my BB charger (for work) will charge both the BB and the smartphone.  Super awesomeness.

And today I finished up a bunch of annoying, mental energy sucking personal little to do things and one huge, time-sucking and tedious work project – Awesomes #7 and 8. 

So if you are having a really bad day, try to look for the little things, the awesomes, that can turn it around.   They are all around us, in every part and action of our lives,  we just have to recognize them.  Have an awesome tonight and tomorrow.

The Ghosts of Christmas Past

I’m lucky, usually my posts pretty much write themselves.   No matter what I’m doing in my day-to-day life,  ideas, stories, witty lines and colourful anecdotes are usually whizzing around somewhere in my brain.  Mostly this is a good thing, although occasionally I’ve gotten distracted and lost my dog or forgotten to get off the bus . . .a tad inconvenient, but I was burning up the mental pages and next thing you know – ooops – gone!    

This one’s been tougher though.   I know what I want to write, but it’s been finding a form for it that’s been trying.  Or maybe it’s because it’s a closer to my heart, more revelatory and (gasp!) shows a hint of vulnerability that I’ve struggled.  Or maybe it’s because I have a couple of others subjects I want to write on, but I haven’t decided yet if I”m willing to air that much of my personal laundry in public . . .writing under your own name, while an excellent tool for honesty, does force you to make some big decisions about exactly how much of yourself you are willing to put out there for public consumption.   Hmmmm.   And they are not seasonal topics anyway, so I’m fencing-sitting on those and instead going about the time-honoured tradition of simply committing words to paper (metaphorically speaking) and seeing what comes out for this Christmas post.   

Although living a life Just Past Normal is usually, for me, a great gig from one day to the next, there are certainly times that are more challenging.  Mostly these revolve around the concept of family and the times and milestone events in life when having a visible family is de rigueur.   To say the family I grew up in was a little . . odd . . would be a big understatement.   And different doesn’t even begin to describe my life during my “formative years”.   My extended family is now scattered over three continents and I have very few, well actually only one, “family” person here in Vancouver.   It’s a bit of a chicken and egg situation – is my somewhat unorthodox lifestyle now a result of that or do I perpetuate it by the choices I make.    Probably a bit of both.   Armchair therapists, do your worst. 

So at times like Christmas, it takes discipline, practice and ruthless honesty to not find yourself crying into your rum and eggnog while watching reruns of It’s a Wonderful Life.  And it takes imagination, a willingness to not be bound by the conventional and a group of really good friends to actually sail through this trickiest time of the year not only in good humour, but with sanity and serenity intact.  I also have a deal with myself (ok, so it’s a rule – damn it) that I make no big life decisions or engage in any crucial discussions (in person, by email or worst of all,  texting late at night)  at this time of year – I don’t trust myself to make good choices and really, I think we are all a bit overwrought and not making the best choices, so I don’t really trust other people either.   Christmas is so over invested with emotional baggage . . .better put off those meaningful discussions till January, when we are all at least semi-sane again.

Finding myself at home, alone, on Christmas morning the first year of my independence (doesn’t that sound better than after I got divorced!) there was a serious temptation to head straight for champagne and OJ – hold the OJ.  My daughter had gone off to spend Christmas in Calgary with her Dad and his family and here was little ‘ol me, all by myself in my jammies with no-one to open presents with.   Wow – could have been a big downer.  But here is what I made myself do.   First I made myself a great breakfast complete with champagne and OJ, just like I would have done any other year, then I made myself sit down and examine  exactly what it was I was so sad about.   I missed my daughter – it was the first Christmas we had not been together.  Well, that was a given and I knew it would be an inevitable result of the choices I had made.   

Then, feeling suitably teary, I started in with wailing and gnashing of teeth, feeling miserably sorry for myself about not have a “real” family to celebrate Christmas with.   You know, the whole Norman Rockwell scenario.   But being a ruthlessly rational person I dried my tears and sat down and thought about what that really meant to me.   How many people actually had the sort of family Christmas that we are endlessly bombarded with in the media?   For me at least, this was yet another one of those exaggerated cultural expectations that I’ve been trying to live up to all my life.   We are set up with such unreal expectations of what Christmas should be, that disappointment is pretty much inevitable, unless we learn to truly appreciate what our own Christmas is.

So in this, like most everything else, I’ve built  my own road as I’ve walked it.   I’ve come to terms with what Christmas is (and is not) to me and those closest to me and learned to value what I have, rather than sorrow over what I have not.  So here are a few of my favourite things . . . .

I really like to see snow at Christmas, so now when I leave work on Christmas Eve, I come right home and get my faithful pooch and we head up to a little known trail at the back of Cypress Mountain.  It’s used pretty much exclusively only by those lucky few cabin owners on Hollyburn Ridge, so it’s quiet, usually in deep snow and winds its way gracefully up through tall evergreen trees to the oh, so quaint Hollyburn Lodge.   My doggie romps in the snow, if I’m really lucky some snowflakes will gently drift down and I get to savour that wonderful peace that comes with being alone, outdoors, in the winter. 

There’s a kind of hush . . .(how many song lyrics are in this post?)  that falls on the city about dinner time on Christmas Eve.  It’s one of my favourite moments.  Everyone has gone home from work, all the frantic shopping is done (unless you are a complete loser and have to go to the airport to do your shopping – you know who you are!), the wheels of commerce and industry grind to a halt and everything just  . . .stops.   It’s the quietest moment of the year in the city.  It’s as if the whole world just lets out the collective anxiety that’s been building, stops the crazed running around and just sits still.  It’s magical, and it’s there, every year.   I like to just stand outside and listen to the sound of silence.  

My friends.   I am truly, truly blessed with an amazing group of friends.  Fearing that I will be (gasp of horror!) alone at Christmas, I usually have a list of invitations as long as my arm for breakfasts, dinners, parties, open houses and general merry-making.   I am thankful, to the bottom of my heart, for each and every one of those invitations.  By their generosity in including me in their families, my friends make me feel seen.   I am there and I count.   I am taken in and made to feel that I’m one of their family, for which I am profoundly grateful.  But I also made a decision that first year that I would not fill every minute, of every day, with a ceaseless round of visiting, eating and drinking.  It’s important to acknowledge both the sad and the happy in our lives, so I always spend Christmas morning by myself  – it’s an important ritual of personal growth for me.   

For not having turned my oven on at Christmas for four years now, I am profoundly thankful.   Do I miss cooking those turkey dinners – hell no.   I now get to be the glamorous single friend who shows up well rested and well dressed with a good bottle of wine in hand.  It’s not a bad gig.  Really.  

Two years ago Vancouver had a HUGE snowstorm on Christmas Eve.  It dumped snow, the roads were closed and then the power went out.  Nice.   I had a whole gang coming for dinner.   But I have a gas fireplace (heat), I’m a veritable candle ‘ho (light) and I have a gas BBQ (even if it was buried in a couple of feet of snow).   So I dug out the back porch, fired up the BBQ and finished the lasagna on that – it might not have been perfect, but it was  hot, it was dark with only candles and I served lots of vino.   My friends came over with board games and we sat around and had an honest to goodness “old-fashioned Christmas”.   We drank wine and talked for hours, the kids (well they were all in their 20’s, so not really kids, but still) sat in front of the fire with a game of Settlers and played by candlelight.  I had also invited a couple of neighbours who had been stranded at home, alone, by the snowstorm, so we were a good-sized and very convivial bunch.   When the power came on later that night it was greeted by howls of protest from everyone and we promptly turned off all the lights again and finished our evening the way we started it, by candlelight with only the company of good friends for entertainment.   That night is one of my all time favourite Christmas memories. 

What I’ve learned:  Family can be many things, it’s only constrained by our willingness to accept the different as an extraordinary gift and by our ability to cherish that, rather than mourn for the imaginary perfection we don’t have.  

And this year I’m looking forward to having my daughter home with me for Christmas and that’s my own personal Christmas miracle.  

In Heavy Rotation:  I love to indulge in lush, romantic, classical music at Christmas.  My favourite is Mozart‘s Clarinet Concerto in A Major, especially the beautiful and profound Adagio.  It never fails to move me.  I’ll also fess up to a guilty pleasure  – Andrea Boccelli’s Ave Maria.   It’s perfect Christmas music, even for a heathen unbeliever like me. 

The Printed Word:  I will get to catch up on a lot of reading, but I’ve saved a special treat for when I need it most:  “The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest”, the third book in Stieg Larson’s incredible Girl with the Dragon Tattoo series.  If you have not read them, do so, but make sure to read them in order.  The Swedish-made movies are also good, remaining faithful to both the spirit and detail of  the story, so much so that I completely forget I was listening to Swedish and reading sub-titles.

And there it is written, my Christmas post.

How Social Media saved me from Fludom (like boredom – but when you have the flu)

Even though I have spent the majority of the last two days (and maybe tomorrow as well) in bed with the flu, I have found that one of the great saving graces of being a self-confessed social media junkie is that you are never bored.  Grab your laptop, prop yourself up on some comfy pillows and make some tea and you can visit with friends, catch up on news and read hilarious blogs  all day long .  Facebook, WordPress, Blogspot,  BBM or just plain old school email, the messages and news just keep coming in.   And, as a bonus, your buddies are  not exposed to your nasty germs.   

And having done all that scouring of various sites I have at least six ideas for upcoming posts  already saved in drafts.  So while I may not have gotten one single step closer to finishing my Christmas shopping (finishing – who am I kidding, I haven’t even started!), putting up the decorations (the boxes are piled in the middle of my living room) or procuring the best Charlie Brown tree on the lot (my daughter and I have a fondness for Charlie Brown trees, kind of like stray kittens or sad puppies) I’ve had a veritable bonanza of good news and interesting conversations and I didn’t have to go to work.   Maybe my standards are falling, but it was a pretty good day. 

On the good news front – one of my favourite local bands, Incura, posted that they have signed a recording contract.  Can there be a much more exciting day for an up and coming band?    I don’t think so. Way to go guys, well deserved.  Wish I could be at the blow out New Years Party in Lethbridge, it will be a show to remember!

Other good news – a new Green Day song!!!!!  Yup, I’m pretty excited about that one.  While I totally love that Billie Joe and the boys have been exploring their musical talent on Broadway, I am WAY more excited that they have put out a new song with Jesse Malin under the name Rodeo Queens.    It’s hitting YouTube and all the Rock Blogs and I feel the same way as a lot of the comments I have seen posted – great song, Jesse kicks it, but I wish Billie Joe had more vocals  – he only sings back up.  Nonetheless, I’ll take a new Green Day song anytime.    Here is the video.    

Still more good news – Yellowcard has announced that they are dropping a new record, When You’re Through Thinking, Say Yes  in March, 2011 and going on tour to support it.   And they are coming to Seattle to play the ShowBox – awesome venue, fantastic band, it will be a great night (even on a Monday).  Last time we went there it was to see Third Eye Blind – there were a lot of shots of Patron involved and the wingman got into a cat fight as I recall  . . . but it was totally justified, I was there I know and I had her back. 

Lastly, I read a great blog from my new blogging friend, CharlieJ. I discovered her because we use a lot of the same tags on our blogs, but we are writing from totally opposite sides of the spectrum.  Her blog is called 365 Days of Celibacy  – subject is fairly self-explanatory.    Her post  today was about whether going on a date with a cute guy she has recently met is a good idea when you are trying to remain celibate for a year.  Me,  I don’t think so.   My comments to her are below, it made me laugh out loud.

You begged for advice – here it is. I can only think of 3 reasons to go on a date:
1. You want to meet fun new friends to hang out with, do stuff with, you know – buddies.
2. You meet someone and he is so hot all you can think about is getting him naked.
3. You meet someone who really piques your interest, you want to get to know more about him, he’s super cute and maybe, just maybe it might be more.

Ok, so of these 3 scenarios, if your date is a number 1. you are ok. If he’s a number 2 and you are not fessing up – your celibacy vow is totally screwed. And if he’s a number 3 – well sooner or later the S.E.X. subject is going to come up – literally and figuratively speaking – and I’m guessing sooner rather than later and then what?   So as far as dating during this year, unless he’s a number 1 – this cowgirl is going to get back on the horse . . .just saying

And the final piece of good news is all my own.  When I started writing this blog I truly didn’t know if one other person in the entire universe would ever read it.   But I love writing it so much, I thought I’d just keep on keeping on with it.  But the most amazing thing is happening – I’m getting between 20 and 50 hits on every post I put up.  And they are not  just my friends and family – I’m getting all sorts of comments from complete strangers out there in blogland.  It’s one of the most rewarding things that has happened to me in a long time.   And so even sick with a fever, box of tissues in hand here I am getting my daily writing fix.   It might not be the most thoughtful or insightful post  I’ve written, I’ve got those on the burner for when I can think more than one sentence ahead again, but it was fun.  And that is my goal in life right now, to have the most fun I can.   Well that and getting Freshly Pressed, the ultimate in blog stardom. 

And for all that, I owe a huge debt of thanks to the friend who got me started blogging: without his inspiration, I don’t think I would ever have started.  Thank you.  Don’t stop writing.

Colouring outside the lines

I have always wanted to write.  I have never been brave enough.   Sydney J. Harris, the  incomparable columnist for the Chicago Sun Times said “Regret for the things we did can be tempered by time; it is regret for the things we did not do that is inconsolable.”  So to save myself from at least one inconsolable regret, that of never seeing my writing published in any form, may I present my blog, Notes from Just Past Normal.  Why start a blog now?  I was inspired by a friend’s writing.  It was very good and it made me think; actually it made me think a lot.   And once I started thinking, I  just can’t seem to  stop.  I write in my head constantly: on the bus, walking the dog, out for a run, driving my car, at work.  It’s just one continuous outpouring of ideas that I email to myself, being the 21st century equivalent of a writer’s notebook.    I have quite a collection. 

Notes from Just Past Normal?   I’ve always played by the rules.  Actually I love rules.  Rules keep life simple.  Rules are about control.  If you play by the rules you will be accepted and liked.  Ok, so I’ll admit to having issues with a) control and b) being accepted.   So rules have always worked for me.   But occasionally, if we are very lucky, something happens in your life that is so unexpected, so outside the ordinary it can, quite literally, blast you right out of  those self-righteous and self-preserving rules.  There is always a choice, a yes or a no.   But  if you  are prepared to grab that chance, to say yes when no would be the safe choice and  if you are very, very lucky, something extraordinary can happen.   I got that chance and I grabbed it.  I said yes when no would have been so very acceptable.  And it changed me, it inspired me, I coloured way outside the lines.    And now I’m going to keep up that scribbling, keep pushing back the borders  and I’m sending back missives from that brave new world of Just Past Normal.  

Here’s what I think happens when we always play by the rules, always colour inside the lines.  The box gets smaller.  Our life box.  Every time you stay inside the border the box shrinks infinitesimally.  But over time, all those tiny shrinkages add up.   The possibilities of life become smaller, our world diminishes.   And the worst part is that you don’t even notice it happening.   Every day inside this shrinking box we sell  little pieces of our soul for career advancement, a new car, a bigger TV, a kitchen renovation.   

But colouring outside the lines, now there is a challenge.  Every time you scribble over the lines, you move the border of what is normal and ordinary in your own life.  When you first start, taking one, simple, autonomous scribble, no matter how small, can be paralyzing.  The fear of “what if”.  What if people think I’m crazy, what if they don’t like me anymore, what if I’m just a bit past normal? But grab hold of whatever inspired you, summon up your  courage, take that first step and POW, you start to move outside the box, you push back the borders, your life gets LARGER.  And the truly great thing is, the more you practice, the easier it gets.   Scribble goes the crayon and back goes the border.  The world starts to EXPAND, the feeling of what is possible just GROWS, the event horizon moves into the future.  It is scary as hell, but euphoric.  And once you get hooked on that feeling of euphoria, well there is no chemical substitute for the feeling that your life is simply full of opportunity, that anything is possible.  It just takes the courage to say yes that first time opportunity comes knocking. 

So here is what I’m challenging myself to do.   I’m going to grab hold of that big old crayon and scribble away as far out of the lines as I can, as often as I can.   I’m going to move past ordinary, I want extraordinary.  And just see what happens.   No regrets.  If you care to follow along, I’ll publish my escapades and my thoughts on them  – my Notes from Just Past Normal.   Hopefully they will be humourous and entertaining, though sometimes I expect they will be difficult and maybe even sad.   And for my good friends who are my partners in crime, my willing (or unwilling) accomplices, have no fear – all names and identifying details will be changes to protect the guilty.

The working title for my next blog is  “Ink Stains”.  One of my first really big scribbles –  I got a tattoo.  Not a little star or a butterfly, oh no, I got a big, custom designed piece of art permanently inked on my body.  I love it.  I”m always asked why?   Stand bye for some ruminations on ownership.

In heavy rotation:  Sons of Sylvia – Revelation.  Listen to these incredibly talented, genre crossing brothers from Nashville.  Next year you’ll be saying you knew them when. 

Printed Word:  The Lost Highway by David Adam Richards.  A dark meditation on a life of regret.   Blink by Malcolm Gladwell.  Your subconscious knows everything you need to know about a person or situation in the first 30 seconds.   Everything else is just your conscious catching up.