Tuesday 4 December 2012

The Simple Act of Giving



“To give” is often seen in a negative light. We’re told not to “give up,” that to “give in” is to show weakness and when something finally “gives out” it’s done for. It’s actually slightly depressing. How different these meanings seem from the simple act of giving that is at the heart of compassion.

This Christmas, I want to redefine the terms I have so often held to be faults. Instead maybe it’s best to alter our outlook and “give up” our worries to the One whose vision is ever far-seeing. To “give in” to the joy that surrounded that first Christmas and to “give out’’ to others the love and offer the hope that this season is all about.

Some might disagree and tell me that to do this IS weakness. But, in all its simplicity, I have found strength in it.

Wednesday 14 November 2012

November Sky


Scene outside the window:
Sweeping winds of desolate daydreams,
Rattle knobbly branches;
Care-worn leaves limply lie.

It’s here that:
Memories of rosy summer,
Like rows of toppling toy soldiers,
Can’t stand against late-autumn’s breath.

Canvas of grey on grey:
Rolling cloud’s face revealed
Brings rain upon the windowpane,
Drops of November sky.



Sunday 11 November 2012

Memory's Forgotten Burden


The blue-grey of the overcast sky provides an appropriate backdrop for the somber ceremony. Everywhere people are flocking to the town cenotaph, bundled up in winter coats to shield against the late-autumn chill. Children are laughing and bounding through leaves as their parents hurry after them, keeping track of dropped hats and mittens while trying to prevent dog leashes from becoming tangled in the crowd, not wanting to lose sight of their children in the crush of individuals. The morning air rings with laughter, shouting and barking. It is the 11th of November and the eleventh hour is quickly approaching.

As I’m standing still, trying to take it all in, my eyes fall upon an assembly of veterans gathering for the service. It’s a patch-work group; some are leaning on canes and walkers, others holding tightly to the arms of younger companions. Across the street from them, another group is forming. This time however, it is many rows of young men and women in uniform, and they are marching straight and tall. While to most both groups could not be more different, I am quick to note that each individual was similar in one way; they were all walking with their heads held high and determination in their gait. It was a pride of sorts for their country and as I looked on from my inconspicuous place in the crowd, I think I can feel it too.

The ceremony begins as it does every year, with speeches and readings and prayers. Everyone dutifully inclines their heads and remains still for the moment of silence, but whether this was out of respect or habit is difficult to discern. After the last wistful note of the bagpipe echoes over the river, the service proceeds with the laying of the wreaths.  By this time, restlessness in setting in and I can see people in front of me shifting their feet and looking around. Names are read aloud and as each wreath is placed around the centre monument, a cannon is fired.

At the first crack of the cannon, everyone jumps. I hear gasps, nervous laughter and hushed whispers, a child behind me utters an excited “Cool!”.  As the next name is read, I prepare myself for the next thundering boom, thinking to myself what hell it must have been for the soldiers to endure the sound everyday never mind running towards the bombardment. More names are called, more wreaths are laid and it is made evident that many around me do not share in my ponderings. In fact, some are downright disrespectful. People are chatting about the weather, the elections that had just ended in the States and the price of gas. It seems they care about everything except what is right in front of them.

Another cannon shatters the hushed murmurings and I look upward. A skein of Canada geese is flying overhead, their V formation never wavering despite the cannon’s resounding clap. I follow them with my eyes as they fly diligently on, freedom and stalwart dedication encompassed in their very presence. The ceremony begins to draw to a close and the crowd starts to disperse, hoping to make their escape before the heavy traffic develops.

My eyes turn once more to the gathering of veterans. They remain still, watching what is taking place in front of them, for all the world oblivious to the restlessness that surrounds them. To them, this day is something completely different. And though it’s beyond my ability to comprehend, I remain standing, with my feet apart and eyes ahead, trying to remember.


Saturday 10 November 2012

Courage on the Line


They marched; side by side, shoulder to shoulder.
Pride in their eyes, this generation called to order.
Heads held high, readied to face the foe.
Soldiers all, standing row on row.

They fought; side by side, hand meets hand.
Hell reflected in their eyes, but the soul must withstand.
Advancing through horror, guns’ blazing, constant roar
Brothers all, fighting someone else’s war.

They died; side by side, one thought shared by all.
Eyes full of pain, the cries before the fall.
When it comes to the end, it’s not the power or the might,
But as humans all, small stars in war’s night.

Today we stand; side by side, shoulder to shoulder.
What do we see in our eyes as the years grow older?
We need to know it is not is vain that they fight.
Remembrance: our key to hope and dawn’s light.

Saturday 27 October 2012

Fragments



I think everyone has this deep-seeded fear of falling to pieces, as if by letting go we lose control of everything we have worked for. I also believe that many of the things we clench so tightly only hinder our abilities to move on in life. This terror of tumbling apart can be paralyzing at times. But what we must do is drop these pieces. For it is only through letting go of the shards of a past life that the mold into which we have tried to fit will shatter and we can be reformed. In fact, you may find that the pieces will “fall” together as if they were guided by unseen hands.

I've discovered it to be like this: If you've never experienced the process of picking up the pieces, you’ll never know the joy of being found. 

Sunday 14 October 2012

Never Alone



I think we often trap ourselves into believing that we are alone. We want to solve our problems by ourselves because we think it will make us “strong” and “independent”.  Well, I don’t know about anyone else, but it can get pretty lonely in this mindset. It’s as if we’re trying to leave our pit of despair by constructing a staircase out of wayward pebbles while waving away the rope someone is dangling in front of our faces. Needless to say, this has the potential to become a futile effort.

Look at it this way, it takes real strength to grab onto that rope and hold on for the whole climb. And true freedom comes in knowing we are never alone.

Friday 21 September 2012

Diving Deep


Have you ever felt like you are trying to keep everyone else afloat while you yourself are drowning but nobody notices? How often are we paralyzed by the  fear of the next overwhelming wave that is coming, believing that it will be the one that finally consumes us? I know that I have found myself in this mindset at times and it shames me to admit it; for such thoughts only impede us and make things as simple as breathing an impossibility. But struggling on the surface isn't truly living.

Sometimes in order to stop drowning in life, you need to let go and dive deep within it.

Sunday 16 September 2012

Following Your Senses



What gets you further in life: common sense or a sense of adventure?

This is the type of question that sends me running around in circles within my mind. (Actually, I’m usually pacing a room muttering to myself, but that’s just weird.) Some may say that common sense only holds you back and prevents you from trying new and exciting things; that only with a sense of adventure will one stumble upon discovery. So while a sense of adventure might compel you to BASE jump off a cliff, common sense may keep your feet from going over the edge. But what discoveries lie in wait on an alternate route down? Maybe the real fear we need to overcome is that of turning back.

A sense of adventure will take you to all ends of the Earth, but common sense will keep you alive throughout the journey, and possibly even slow you down just enough to enjoy the sights along the way. So perhaps it is not one or the other: In order to live life to the fullest, maybe you need a little of both.

Saturday 1 September 2012

Learning to Sing



Sometimes I wonder why I think that waking up at 5:30 in the morning will somehow help me be more prepared for the day. As if any amount of worrying I can fit into the hour before I get up will benefit me in any way. Today, as I’m about to embark on something new, I'm asking myself similar questions. But I believe that it’s moments like these where it’s normal to stop and ask myself what I’m getting into. Or at least that’s where I found myself a few minutes ago.

“Oh my gosh, Emma. What are you doing?”

And I looked back on all the times that thought had crossed my mind. Some of those answers I’m not really proud of, other instances I wish I’d stopped a second to question further. But I’ve already lived those regrets.

So I ask myself another question. If that last part of my life, with all its mistakes, regrets, memories, and accomplishments, was finding my voice; where am I now? Where do I find myself at this start of something new, with the million little thoughts running through my mind, hands shaking, eyes looking ahead, brain always questioning, ears always listening? As I take this all in, I think I feel more than hear the answer: In this moment of doubt and worry and weakness, that’s where the next part begins. And that is where I am at this moment: quavering and uncertain, but learning to sing.

Thursday 23 August 2012

One Last Rose





Dreams may fade and wilt but 
Hope springs eternal.
    
                  ~ Alexander Pope

                                                                                               

One Last Rose
White petals,
like softly falling snow:
shroud summer's blossoming dreams.




Wednesday 22 August 2012

A Stroke of Lightning



Wow. Every now and then you really need to marvel at the awe-inspiring phenomena that abound in this world. And sometimes it’s the incredible minutest of details, bringing them about, that cause me to wonder. Take lightning for example. I am sure many would agree that their power and intensity are something to be appreciated… or even feared. We find ourselves many-a-time amazed at their spectacle when, in fact, the true miracle is that they even strike at all. For, despite their high voltages, “a bolt of lightning is not nearly strong enough to overcome the insulating properties of air.”1 Another factor needs to come into play- something that is not based on the lightning’s power alone; and for all the high-speed cameras that are continuously being improved, its cause remains elusive.  

This one missing piece: the spark that starts it all. It is an unknown beyond one’s comprehension- something we cannot see nor fully grasp. And that’s where the light shines greatest in lightning. For if these tiny, unseen details are already taken care of in this world, I wonder what changes are possible in me.

1Johnson, George. "Chasing Lightning." National Geographic. August 2012: 106. 

Tuesday 14 August 2012

The Normal Conundrum



I hate the word “normal”.  It can’t be defined and I think we just waste our time trying to reach its elusive and treacherous ideal. The desire to be ordinary is perhaps one of humanity’s greatest puzzles. And maybe “fitting” the pieces together isn’t the way to solve it.

Normal is what we think everyone else thinks is normal; there is no static definition of the word and, for that reason, it is an unattainable standard to wish to achieve. But we all strive for a sense of normalcy and, unfortunately, use it as a driving force in our lives. In our race to be like “everybody else”, we leave our true selves trampled behind us. It seems impossible to break free of this mindset because society impresses upon everyone at an early age a desire to please others at all cost. It’s as if we have been set up for failure.

In the end, we either have to assimilate and be like what we believe everyone else to be or find contentment in breaking apart and staying true to ourselves. The latter is not easy because we feel pressured by the world to merge with everyone else. However, theoretically speaking, if we truly accept ourselves for who we are, than the acceptance of everyone else shouldn’t matter at all. I don’t know of this is any more possible than reaching “normal’, but at least it’s a constructive concept for which to strive.

Monday 13 August 2012

Building Walls



Too many people waste their time trying to be someone else. I wonder how many times we have walked into a room of pasted smiles and false laughter; where we find ourselves as mere spectres going about life, each ignorant in our own isolation. Somehow, we feel better when we are busy constructing barriers; thinking we are protecting ourselves by keeping others from catching a glimpse of the real person within. But problems arise from this self-deception.  Not expressing one’s true feelings only results in anger and resentment. Moreover, hiding our true selves is an exhausting undertaking and never really gives a sense of security.

As proven throughout history, walls are seldom able to maintain their purpose indefinitely. The Berlin Wall fell, the Great Wall of China, a symbol of power, still gave way to the Mongols and other invaders. In the same way, we build walls of false images and spend all our energy trying to sustain them. It is a fruitless effort for, in doing so, we miss out on much and forget what’s important; like loving others or having loyal friends and supportive families.

This begs the question of who are we really afraid of? For the walls will eventually fall and then with whom are we left? Surely not those we have blocked out.

These mental strongholds: We try to hide behind them but all we succeed in achieving is hiding from ourselves. For the real threat comes from within and no matter how many outer defenses we mount, they won’t shield us from the true person inside. And peace will only come through acceptance.

Tuesday 7 August 2012

Saving Superman

-A short story-

My best memories of childhood always began with a hunt through the linen closet. I would be looking each time for the indispensable superhero necessities: a rag to fashion a cape- an old towel would do perfectly- and a strip of cloth for a mask. A few tucks here, a little adjusting there, a poor attempt at forming a knot and, voila, I became a caped hero, defending the world from the masked marauders of the night.

There was always that anticipation of dressing up, that delicious feeling of being someone else for a short period of time, where my reality would slip away and I could escape from the confines of my small, childhood world. In those fantasy-filled moments, I fully believed I had become one of them and that by defeating my imaginary villains, I was somehow protecting the world from the horrors that plagued it. As if by simply wearing a cape, I could take the burdens of the world upon my childish frame.

But I was young and my sheltered eyes had seen little of those horrors; my imagination unable to truly construct what held the world in bondage. My war was of a fun sort, where the good guys always won and vengeance always dealt without fail. When I look back upon that period of my existence, it is easy to laugh at the ignorance of my childhood innocence. Because to me then, the world was of a monochrome nature; where right and wrong were divided as clearly as day and night. Not at all like the hazy twilight where I find myself pondering such beliefs, now so many years in the future.

And what is it that I believe now? For the difference between adults and children is that we see the world through a different lens, so that we often reject what is right before our eyes: the pure, the innocent, all that is simple and good is lost in the shadows of cynicism. It is our inability to clearly distinguish the difference between night and day that sends us to the stumbling block of nations. Maybe if, for a moment, every leader of every country were to lower himself to the eye level of a five-year-old, the world would be a better place. But these are most likely the mad ramblings of a delusional dreamer.

So is that why today I once again yearn to see things through the over-simplified worldview of youth? It’s morning once more and I’m looking out the window. I hear laughter and soon see a boy appear from behind the house across the street. He is wearing a mask, his eyes peering out from its exaggerated features. I’m trying to discern whose face he is hiding behind, almost frantically now because I think I already know. He is running and jumping, twirling and bouncing through the sun-dappled morning. And suddenly- might it be because of the angle of the sun?- I can see it clearly. For here I am, in a cape once more, but trying to save superman.


Sunday 29 July 2012

In the Peace of Dormant Day


Sunday, July 29, 6:15 am

I thought I was going to get to see the sun rise this morning. There was a brief moment when all was calm and the sky was streaked with red. The whole world was filled with anticipation it seemed; and I was part of it.  But then the clouds came and covered the small, wavering rays of the new day. This happened slowly, the clouds creeping over the horizon so that I didn’t notice it right away. Now two birds are bickering outside. The moment of peace has passed and all is beginning to awaken with a clatter to the hectic realism of life. There’s always tomorrow I suppose. Maybe then I’ll be able to hold on to the ever-seeking sun for a moment longer.

This is what I saw. It is also how I felt.

Wednesday 25 July 2012

Inner Beasts

In everyone there is a beast trying to get out.

Like poison;

Paralyzing inner spirit,
it attacks: A roaring, clawing manticore,
composed of lies and anger and pain.
I tried to tame it by myself.
But the only one I was fooling was me.


Sunday 22 July 2012

Sunny with a CHANCE of Rain (Or Why I Shouldn't Worry)


Some days the weatherman should look out the window. That’s what many of us may say to ourselves on the mornings when we hear their chipper voices advise that we might want to bring out an umbrella if we plan to venture forth, only to peer through the curtains and be greeted with a bright, cloudless day. Sometimes it seems they get it wrong more often than right. How many times have we been promised a big snow storm, dreaming of a snow day, and then wake up the next morning to a pitiful dusting of flurries? Or have a perfect beach day, all planned ahead of time, be ruined by a torrential downpour? But I would never blame a meteorologist. You can study data and make predictions for all you’re worth but it never guarantees a perfect forecast. It’s just a fact of life.

 I think many people’s biggest problem, myself included, is that we try too hard to see what’s ahead. We want some assurance that we’ll be prepared for what’s to come.  That’s why we worry and try to plan for the unknown. But it would never do to carry our “umbrellas” with us everywhere we go. Trying to predict what happens next only holds us back and weighs us down. It clouds our vision so to speak. If we are too intent on figuring out the forecast for our own life, we miss the beautiful day that is right in front of us.

Thursday 19 July 2012

A Matter of Perspective


When one thinks of Earth’s surface, with its jagged mountains, deep valleys, rifts, and canyons, the word ‘smooth’ hardly comes to mind. Instead, one might find "rugged and imperfect" as a more fitting description. And yet, the surface of planet Earth is proportionally smoother than a billiard ball.1 Surprising is it not? It just depends on your perspective.
Now apply the same perspective to life. Suddenly, all the things that we think define us, such as marks, talents, wealth, appearance, and popularity, matter little in proportion to the grand scheme of things. Once more, it all depends on how you look at it. For if the surface of Earth, with all its imperfections, can be viewed by our limited vision as a perfect, even sphere, how then are we viewed, with all our imperfections, through the eyes of the One whose perspective is infinite?

http://blogs.discovermagazine.com/badastronomy/2008/09/08/ten-things-you-dont-know-about-the-earth/#.WY_cqFF97IU


Saturday 14 July 2012

Lost Voices


By the next century, nearly half the world’s languages will die. This unfortunate truth speaks volumes about the way humanity values the wealth of knowledge culminated by its ancestors. To put it bluntly, we are willing to leave behind much of what was passed down through countless generations in the name of progress.

Every fourteen days, a language dies. Every two weeks, the voices of a multitude of memories, traditions and lessons are silenced in favour of the more hectic languages of English, Spanish and Mandarin. In a world that is already so skilled at quieting minorities, it appears language is yet another victim of our rush to assimilate and move on.  And it’s a real shame.  For there is wisdom in the words of one’s ancestors, and many phrases, proverbs and expressions are simply lost in translation.

Already many peoples’ native tongues are being decimated to feeble whispers and, by removing one’s language, the foundations of many cultures are beginning to crumble. I see it from this perspective:  When we drop a language, we lose much more than mere sounds and written letters; there is a lot that will cease to exist. For how many lessons learned will be forgotten?  How many songs will never be sung again?  Will the traditions and memories of a myriad of voices be drowned out by those that come in to replace them? That’s up to us to determine.

Some words are loudest at a whisper. But we must quiet ourselves if we are to learn from them.

This post was written in response to the article Vanishing Voices by Russ Rymer in July's issue of National Geographic.

Thursday 5 July 2012

In Stormy Weather




Some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm.

                                                                                                ~ Willa Carter
The rain will often give more than just a slick, cold slap in the face. It offers short moments to ponder and quick glimpses of peace in the most surprising of circumstances. There is something about being out in a storm; sort of like standing against everything life throws at you. Sometimes I’ll go out in a good rainstorm and laugh in its face. For a fleeting moment, I’m almost content. The winds may be roaring, lightning flashing and the rain falling in torrents around me, and yet, it’s during those most chaotic moments that I feel at peace. In some way, nature understands. It’s like my mind is in turmoil but I don’t have to articulate anything. It just is and, for the moment, that is enough.  
Or at least that’s what I’m learning.

Tuesday 3 July 2012

Wishes upon Hardened Sand


Today the beach offered one of Life’s great mysteries. What if we could write the burdens of our hearts upon the sand and watch the waves wash them away? Would we then be satisfied? Or would they just be buried, waiting to be rediscovered? Regrets, half-debts and unrealized dreams:  sometimes they seem to number more than the grains that make up the ocean’s shore. I’d gouge the words into the packed, damp granules, digging them deep. It would be a never-ending task, one that would threaten to consume us like any hope etched on windswept landscapes. For here we are, chasing illusive breakers, hoping to quench humanity’s thirst for redemption. And how many people are just sitting, waiting for the waves to roll in?

But true peace is found in still waters.  

Sunday 1 July 2012

A Busy Street After Rainfall

A busy street after rainfall:

Cars creating mist as they rumble through puddles.
Busy people oblivious to all that surrounds them,
Focussed on work, traffic and their impatience.
The city: a whirl of shouting, honking, rushing, and anger. 



A lone raindrop on an office window,
Struggling to remain rooted,
Drooping with the weight of its burden.
Agonizingly, it begins to
                                                drip
                                                                down
                                                                                the window pane
until it reaches the sill.
There it finally stops and clings. 

Seconds, so precious to some,
Wished away by the impatient ones.
Traffic         jerks                to            a              halt.
With a final gasp, the raindrop lets go.
A small splash on wet pavement.
Un-noticed by the busy street after rainfall.

(I'm sort of cheating here as this was written in July of 2010)

Saturday 30 June 2012

Climbing


In 1963, two American mountain climbers, Wili Unsoeld and Tom Hornbein, achieved fame, and more importantly respect, by being the first mountaineers to ever traverse a Himalayan peak. They did so on Mount Everest, the highest of them all. This year, two other men, Conrad Anker and Cory Richards, are attempting to repeat this feat. While I believe anyone who takes on Everest deserves to be noted, these two adventurers are going above and beyond (no pun intended) by attempting the West Ridge route- the most dangerous path up the infamous mountain where the probability of dying is the same as summiting.

I was reading about this in the National Geographic and it got me to thinking. All four of these climbers have purposely taken the toughest route. How often in life do we try the easiest? For everyone has their own mountain to climb. Some are mere slopes; others seem to keep growing forever.  And while there are people who can clamber over their mountains pretty quickly, many will spend their whole lives climbing. But it is better than falling.

Friday 29 June 2012

Even the stars...

Some people are free flying, tumbling head-over-heels through life from one insubstantial thing to the next.  Others dig a little deeper and hold on, becoming more firmly rooted. Put your faith in something constant and long-lasting. Anything less is like trying to navigate a ship by the position of the clouds. But even the stars only last for billions of years.

Thursday 28 June 2012

Learning to Ride


It is often the little accomplishments one makes early during their life journey that become the most meaningful later on. Like little gems of wisdom, we lock those certain moments up and hide the treasure chest away until we have time to better ponder them.

I learned to bike when I was six. During this time I became more acquainted with the ground than I would have liked. But I kept at it that whole summer. It was a constant cycle of climbing on, balancing for a second and then down I would go. For me, taking off my training wheels was a microcosm for the whole process of growing up (and I suppose the lifelong learning that follows). You see, no one learns to fall; it is embedded in our very nature. Climbing is easy enough too. It’s the balancing that is difficult, especially when the road gets bumpy.

Look at it this way: The best thing you can do for yourself is to learn to not be ashamed of falling; just keep climbing back up. Success will come eventually. And the people on the sides of the street will cheer you on.

See you on the sidelines. J

Wednesday 27 June 2012

Vision Obscured


Shame is like a red hot curtain

It wears like a heavy cloak
And with it life’s a sweltering summer
I long for winter’s white.

Tuesday 26 June 2012

Small Victories


Sometimes it's the smallest things that tug at the curtains of despair and nudge you onward. I am always amazed at how even the dreariest rainy day can be transformed into a sparkling sunrise. You just have to search for the source of light. Today it was a child's pair of pink and yellow polka-dotted rain boots left out on someone's front porch. They were quickly filling with water. In my mind, they took on a life of their own, bouncing through puddles: a spraying, laughing and dancing whimsy of delight. Moments such as these are like waking from a dream. Suddenly there's a little less denial, a bit of a smile and opened eyes. Small victories. I think they're shaped like teardrops. But it's those that fill one up with joy.