Hoping for Resolution

My home town is on the verge of crisis, I fear.

It is a crisis that has been brewing for years, decades, generations but it is a crisis that, to me seems to be put on fast-forward based solely on the actions of my elected officials. Having said that, the majority of people who seem to have collectively pushed the fast-forward button on this crisis did not get my vote (and believe me, I voted). And yet, there they sit in their positions of authority blatantly and irresponsibly acting in a way that my vote cried out against.

I am blessed to live in a beautiful little town (well, it seems little to me but we are now 95,000 strong I believe) sitting on a wonderful river, the Grand. I cannot, I am ashamed to say, tell you in detail how my community came to be exactly or the exact origins of the current dispute but I can tell you it was the result of our government of the day deciding that the land they gave to Mohawk leader Joseph Brant (his true Mohawk name Thayendanegea) was actually his to sell and thereby create a trust for his people and their futures. It is a dispute that has been brewing since the late 1700's and is approaching a boiling point now.

As I have said, I know little about the details of the history of what has brought us here, but I know enough to know that what is happening now is wrong.

As an aside, a friend of mine is the most intelligent expert on this issue that I have the privilege of knowing... if you are interested in knowing more, he is always happy to share ideas and information. You can find Chris Friel at http://www.frielspiel.blogspot.com/

After over 200 years of failed negotiations and attempts at resolution, our Six Nations neighbours seem to have lost faith in the desire of any level of government to settle this issue. And after over 200 years, can you blame them? Regardless of how you feel about this issue or how it should be resolved, surely 200 years is more than ample time to figure it out... do the right thing. So now there are protests at land development sites dotting our city. At about three or four sites a handful of Six Nations protesters have been successful in halting progress, creating a great stir in the halls of our city leaders. They have been successful in doing this in peaceful and non-aggressive shows of discontent. They have threatened nothing except to remain resolute in their commitment to their cause.

And what has my city leaders' collective reaction been? Take the protesters to court. Sue them. Threaten to bring in the army to deal with "potential" violence.

I don't know a lot, but I know that this is no way to resolve anything. I know that this is not what I chose when I exercised the blessing of my right to vote. I know that I am ashamed that this is how I am represented, how I am painted as a member of this community.

I love my home town but I am hanging my head these days and praying that someone in authority will set aside ego in the interest of our future, peace and harmony.

Wake Up Call

One of the things I love best about weekend mornings, particularly ones like today, is the few perfect moments of time before you actually come to full consciousness and make your decision to start your day.

My apartment, as I have said before, is on the third floor of a century old apartment building and luckily for me, has no neighbours close enough really to peer in my windows. Being lucky that way, only one of my rooms has window coverings... my bedroom. I enjoy the abundance of natural light that pours into my space during the day and there is no view I want to block out by covering it with curtains or blinds.

But I love to sleep in. I love going to bed knowing that the only wake up call that will impact me in any way is the natural one that happens outside my window. So the curtains that are on my bedroom window are dark and long and hold off the light of morning until I am well prepared to face a new day.

We are enjoying a beautiful spring weekend here in my little corner of Ontario and so last night before I lay my head down, I opened my window up wide, shut the dark curtains and crawled into my soft bed to give in to my exhaustion. I let sleep take me by the hand and happily it did not let go until late morning.

In that moment of perfection, as my mind and body began to stir but before my eyes were ready to join in facing the day, I began to focus on the sounds of spring outside my window... the birds singing, grass being cut nearby and far off children laughing and calling out instructions for their Sunday morning games. And as I rolled myself slowly over to face the window beside my bed, wrapped myself more tightly in the blankets that held me, my eyes finally slowly opened to the blurred vision of the curtains lapping up beside my bed, carried by the spring breezes that were bringing sweet smells and freshness into me. They grazed lightly over me to gently coax me to join the day. Light in the room grew and receded as they danced in the air.

And as they continued their gentle wake-up call, and as the light continued to grow in my room I drew myself up out of bed and began another day that could only be fantastic after waking up like that.

Getting Ready

Funny how things work out sometimes, don't you think?

Just when I have clicked into a new level of personal awareness and readiness for next steps, I have been thrown a couple of curve balls. Nothing earth shattering although when they were passing swiftly by my head, they felt pretty bad but no direct hits, I guess... I mean I am still here after all. But just when I have steeled myself for the challenge of changing directions, lo and behold my energies are now diverted to managing these problems that I am facing, that cannot be put off for another day.

And this is what I think of that...

I think this is the universe readying me for what is ahead of me. In my inaction of late, I have become soft... I have forgotten what it's like to feel the challenge of stretching yourself. I've gotten lazy.

So here is my wake up call before the real fun begins. And I am happy to say, bring it on!!

I'm ready.

Spring Cleaning

First off, I would like to apologize for staying away for so long. I wish I had a good excuse but really, not so much. Life has been pretty much the same and aside from an annoying problem with my car, a ridiculously funny prank played on me by my coworkers (when you least expect it, I will exact my revenge... mwah ha haaa!) and finally, finally getting my clothes switched for the seasons, things have been ordinary.

But as the last remnants of a long holiday weekend slip through my fingers I have come to a bit of a realization and I thought I'd share that with you.

I love a long weekend and even if the weather is uncooperative, as it has been on this one, it still offers ample opportunity to do things differently... change up your routine... find a different perspective. And that is just what has happened to me.

It has been a bit of a progression of late... I can tell you, and often have, that I have felt out of sorts for a while; that things have not felt right and as I struggled to find a reason why, something to point to as a source of my discontent, a thing to change, it occurred to me to change the one thing I have complete and total control over. Me.

I have, over time, become less of who I know myself to be. In my effort to get myself through the challenges of starting life over, I have forgotten the most basic of all lessons... Trust your gut. And be brave. I haven't been doing either of those things for a while and in turning my back on who I truly am I have made mistakes, strayed down paths that were not right for me and worst of all, hurt people I love. In my fear of further loss I have made bad judgments and done things that do nothing to bring myself or anyone I love or care about closer to happiness.

Well that's enough of that. I am not about to say that I will not make more mistakes because knowing myself as well as I do, I can tell you that making mistakes is something I am very good at. I'm just usually not so slow to correct my path. But correct it I will. Day by day and deed by deed.

And I'll share that journey with you as well. Thank you for sticking around.

Number Three

Yesterday was Mother's Day and my sons celebrated in a way that gave me much to smile about...

First and most important, they all told me they loved me. Lots. And that was the best gift of all (ok, I know how corny that is but as their mom, trust me it is the absolute truth).

Second, recognizing that nothing has quite been the same since their dad and I separated we, as we did last year, did something entirely different and not-too Mother's Days-y. Just as I like it.

We went to see the new Harold & Kumar movie. Now, before you judge me (and I know some of you out there are) remember my youngest son is 17 now... hardly a child. And I feel we have a pretty comfortable relationship where we can tolerate the occasional dose of questionable content. My oldest son, who is 24, was a bit more reticent about going to see it with his mom, but conceded that we would probably have a good laugh and agreed to the whole, twisted plan.

And so, they gave me a dvd version of the first Harold & Kumar movie and (which we watched in preparation for the afternoon matinee) and off we went.

Oh. My. Goodness.

I think it was during the scene in Guantanamo Bay where our protagonists (I know, that is pretty generous) were awaiting with dread a visit from Big Bob that my oldest leaned across to me and said (I'm paraphrasing here in the hopes that this doesn't get flagged as inappropriate content, but really... It's Harold & Kumar for crying out loud) "I can't believe I'm watching a movie with c0@&-sandwich with my mom." If you don't know what I'm saying there, consider yourself lucky.

But watch we did and laugh and enjoy. Inappropriate or not.

And then, at the end of the movie Harold recites a poem he wrote while in college... (spoiler alert... don't read any farther if you don't want to know what it says). Here it is...

I’m sure that I will always be
A lonely number like root three

The three is all that’s good and right,
Why must my three keep out of sight
Beneath the vicious square root sign,
I wish instead I were a nine

For nine could thwart this evil trick,
with just some quick arithmetic

I know I’ll never see the sun, as 1.7321
Such is my reality, a sad irrationality

When hark! What is this I see,
Another square root of a three

As quietly co-waltzing by,
Together now we multiply
To form a number we prefer,
Rejoicing as an integer

We break free from our mortal bonds
With the wave of magic wands
Our square root signs become unglued
Your love for me has been renewed

Having felt like a number three most of my life and especially now, the idea that there is another number three out there to match my lonely root is a sweet, comforting thought. If my boys have at any points in their lives felt like number threes as well, and I'm pretty sure they have, I hope it gave them a positive message along with the laughs. And besides, that's a pretty good message to share with your sons.

From Mom

As a mother on the day before the day dedicated to women like myself world wide, I can't help but think about the lessons imparted upon me by my mother and what I have tried to teach my boys.

Now let me begin by saying that my mother and I never ever had a warm relationship. Either of them actually. I am adopted and spent my first two years moving from foster home to foster home before my birth mother decided to relinquish her connection to me, freeing me for adoption. At that time I was placed in the home that came to be my family and in permanent connection to Shirley, my adoptive mother. I can recall once being hugged by her and never remember her telling me she loved me. I struggled for a long time with the impact this relationship had on me and have worked hard and dug deep to find the warmth and love within myself that should have been shown to me by her so I could give it to my boys.

But despite that, I know there are lessons she taught me. Shirley taught me:

- that no matter what, no man has a right to hit you
- how to make a fantastic macaroni and cheese from scratch
- that if you can read, you can cook and there is nothing more intimidating about it than that
- that I deserve better (unfortunately back then I didn't listen to this one)
- that when you walk, hold your head up high and pull your shoulders back

That's about all I can tell you, but that is enough for me. And there are some pretty big lessons in there.

As for my relationship with my boys, I hope I have given them lessons that will carry them well, equip them with tools they will need to lead happier lives. Here is a random sampling of what I've wanted my boys to learn:

- don't throw garbage out of the car, onto the ground or anywhere except an appropriately designated receptacle (and that does not include your bedroom floor)
- show your love... show it as often as you can, tell them, hug them because you never know when you'll get a chance to do it again
- don't be limited by geography, the world is yours (they seem to have listened to this one, unfortunately I didn't anticipate how hard it would be on me when they took me up on that piece of advice but I'm so glad it sunk in)
- you don't have to be married or have children but being loved is a wonderful thing... cherish it when it happens
- wipe the seat... please!!!
- give back in whatever way you can
- your words of kindness will be remembered so much longer than you ever imagine... so will your words of hostility
- violence is never the answer... never
- if you can read you can cook, it's no more intimidating than that (yes, this was a good one)
- you deserve to be treated well, if the person makes you sad more than they make you happy, you deserve better
- don't stick your gum under the table... seriously!

I don't know if my boys will take all these or any of the other lessons I tried to share along with them in their lives. I hope at least they'll take the one that I tried to instill in them every single day... that their mom loves them no matter what. And to know you are loved, no matter what, is a good good thing I think.

In the Hope for Better Days

These are strange days it seems.

For a while now I’ve been commenting on how off-centre I’ve been feeling; describing my struggle to find a sense of balance where I wasn’t constantly feeling so lost and alone.

Coincidentally, I also noticed my new wayward duck neighbour who is still delighting me with his presence (no sign of friends or partners for my poor feathered friend I’m afraid, though). But although it seems all of this is unrelated and arbitrary, I am finding further evidence that this is not the case.

There seems to be some sort of cosmic misalignment happening. Or maybe a cosmic realignment. Who knows?

This is what else is contributing to my theory… Very recently three friends of mine have announced endings of significant relationships. Marriages for some and long-term partnerships for others. Now, by no means am I suggesting that any of these developments are the absolute conclusion of the relationship involved, but it is certainly the status currently. Also, I have other friends facing other personal challenges and difficulties that are wearing at their abilities to be optimistic and see any hope for a brighter day coming.

And my heart aches for all of them. Having gone through this agonizing exercise of ending a relationship, to my own conclusion which was right for me, I empathize with their senses of loss and being lost. It saddens me to witness any of my friends going through such challenging times, however they have found themselves there and from wherever the source. It is hugely frustrating to know there is nothing that can be done to ease their pain.

But I have faith that each of them will find their own way; do what is needed to take care of everyone involved. I know that this road is not always an easy one and I will let them know I am here to walk beside them if they need company.

And I will tell them what I believe to be true… each of them is deserving of happiness and although it may not seem evident right now, that happiness will come. Brighter days are on their way. I will be here for those days too, to laugh in the sunshine and be grateful for the end of the storm.

The Pond Next Door

I live on the third floor of a century old apartment building; my apartment looks out back on a big dirt lot (which was once supposed to be condos but I'm not sure what happened there) then to the city and beyond. Out my side window I look out to residential backyards.

It is a very nice, old neighbourhood where the residents take good care of their lawns, and lucky for me any everyone passing by, great pride in their gardens. A couple of the back yards away from me, but in plain sight is a pool. And I have noticed over the past few days that a mallard duck has claimed the pool as his own private pond for swimming.

Now not being a pool owner I am delighted with this development; I'm not sure if I'd be so happy if it were my pool. I'm sure the presence of this duck implies all kinds of cleaning and sanitary concerns that as a distant observer have no bearing on my perception of the situation. I just got a such a kick out of finding this visitor from the country here in the city.

He is there regularly. I see him in the mornings usually and as I am writing this at my desk, I can turn to look out my window and see him paddling around now as the sun sets behind him.

And I ask myself... does he know he's not in a pond? Is he aware that his welcome extends probably only from the neighbours and certainly not from the "pond" owner with whom he visits? And what of his kin? Is he lost? Does he care?

Maybe because I'm finding myself a little lost these days I am identifying more than one would consider normal with this wayward duck but I have genuine concern for him. As a kindred spirit off my usual centre of balance, I am hopeful that he finds his way back to the flock. Or at least to another duck to paddle around with.

But I will miss him when he goes.

Dinner With the Sister

I had dinner at my sister's tonight. That may not sound like an event of note but in my family, with my background it's nothing short of astounding.

We grew up, the two of us, in unusual circumstances. Circumstances not conducive to positive emotional or spiritual growth. Circumstances that left their marks, not pleasant ones, on each of us. Marks that we have carried in different ways but that have changed the course of our respective lives none the less.

It has been almost eight years since my sister and I had anything that could even generously speaking be called a relationship. The last conversation I remember having with her was at the graveside of our mother and that did not go well. But we are trying to forge a new relationship based on new common ground now, eight years later. I wish I could tell you it is because of my initiative but it is not. If it had been left to me, she and I would still not be talking and I would have carried on feeling quite fine with that.

But she took the initiative, she felt the need to mend fences, bandage old wounds and try to move forward. And I commend her for that. Especially when faced with the trepidation that I have expressed as we have been going through this process.

It is not easy by any stretch and it is at times ridiculously awkward when you consider we lived together in the same home for years. But that is what it's like now and it eases just a bit each time we meet. Tonight I went to her home to have dinner with her and her husband. We talked a lot of small talk and kept things light which was fine by me. And then in the middle of setting the table we stumbled on the ultimate common denominator... the one topic that we could discuss without dredging up any painful memories or hurt feelings. The Partridge Family.

She immediately brought out her complete set of Partridge Family collector cards and we reminisced on how much we loved David Cassidy then and now and forever more while we listened to "I Think I Love You" on her Partridge Family cd (my sister has a few minor eccentricities). She suggested we could even sing along (I on the other hand am more inclined, as I suggested, to crank it up and get up and dance) so in the interest of common ground, we sat at the dinner table, to her husband's great chagrin, and sang with them.

I think the thing with old wounds is that sometimes you just need to cut away all the scar tissue and try to let the new growth come through. It's not going to look the same but it's better than being bound up by the pain.

Blessed to Be a Witness

I had the pleasure of having brunch today with my oldest son and his girlfriend. I was pleasantly surprised last night to receive a text from her inviting me and I happily responded yes.

I don't often get an opportunity to just hang out with the two of them and I was really looking forward to it. I love just hanging with my boys in different combinations for different reasons.

I love hanging with them individually by themselves because it gives me a chance to talk with them without the influence of their brothers on them and the natural bravado and showmanship that results when they are together. It's when I think I can best see the man they have become and when I can most easily find the little boy they once were.

I love hanging with them all together because it gives me such joy to sit back and just watch them play off one another. I think my boys have a wonderful, close relationship with each other and I think it has even grown stronger now that it is faced with the challenge of one of them living half a world away. They challenge and push each other to be stronger and support each other when that strength is faltering. I am happy for their closeness.

And I love hanging with my sons and their girlfriends. But that has not always been the case.

Right now, only my oldest son has a girlfriend (at least he is the only one who is at a state of his relationship to tell me he has one and brave enough to hang out with mom and the girlfriend at the same time).

There have been other girlfriends who I haven't been quite so enthusiastic to spend time with and I could tell you some funny stories (now that the relationships are long in the past) like the one who in her first conversation with me on the phone told me to get my son's "lazy ass out of bed." Yeah, that one didn't go well. I tried, honestly I did (although I am very certain the involved son would argue that point). But here is the thing... I find it very hard to be warm and open with a person who seems to not value my son for all that he is. Now don't get me wrong... I am well aware that my sons, like me, like all humans are flawed. I get that. But if a person is in a relationship with someone I feel that each of the people involved should feel the best of themselves when they are together and I think it's pretty obvious when that is not the case.

And what I see when my son and his girlfriend are together now is that he is happy. He smiles and laughs. She sees his flaws and accepts them as unique pieces of his character. He has a happiness that, as a parent, you want your children to have as adults.

I don't know where this relationship will go but I am glad he is experiencing it because I believe he is better for it. And I am blessed to be a witness.

Saying Goodbye

Today was the last day of work for one of my colleagues at my office. He has been with our company for over seven years and has worked the last two in sales, specifically out of the office I have been at since my start with the company a year ago. In that time together, we have competed twice for the same promotion, once with neither of us succeeding and once with him succeeding. Both times we went into the process wishing each other luck and honestly truly meaning it. I could not have been happier for him when he was given this last promotion and we went out and celebrated together.

He is my buddy. He is the guy I can go to when I have no idea what I am doing (which is frighteningly often) and know he is going to have good advice. He is the guy who always has a positive word to share with me. He has great insight into business and specifically the business we are in.

He also a remarkably entertaining collection of stories; stories that, if you didn't know better would have you swearing that they came from some sit-com that you saw once years ago. If something unique or unusual is going to happen to someone, it's going to happen to him and he will share the story with anyone inclined to listen... and they will be the lucky one receiving the gift of the tale. I can't count the number of times we have all sat around listening to him regale us with an adventure (often turning quickly into a misadventure) while all of us were holding our sides, tears coming to our eyes from laughing so hard.

But my friend ended his career at my company today and I am sad. I could always count on him to second my nomination of hotdogs for lunch. Always. And that's saying something because I can eat hotdogs for lunch with freakish regularity.

We went out for hotdogs one last time yesterday and beers last night to say goodbye. The whole sales team joined in the cocktail hour and we all made our notations of what we will miss most about him.

I miss him already but I'm pretty sure I'll see him at the hotdog stand once in a while. In fact, I'll make sure of it! Good friendships are too precious to let slide away.

I Grieve

Have you ever felt so confused that it seems you just aren't sure which way is up?

I am a former SCUBA diver (haven't been in more than a decade but I have some pretty cool shots, I think) and I remember when I was learning how to dive I was told if I ever get disoriented, watch the directions of the bubbles escaping my mask and they will point me to the way home. That lesson and the related analogies that I have used over the years has served me well. Until now.

I feel very off kilter. I can't for the life of me, find the bubbles to show me the way to the surface. And until I can do that, I have a fear of drowning, suffocating for lack of oxygen right here where I'm at... which is not a great place by any means.

I heard a great line in one of my favourite songs the other day... The song is "I Grieve" by Peter Gabriel and I have always loved it for its haunting beauty and honesty of message. Give it a listen some day.

But at the very end of the song is a line, a line that until this week I had missed (yet again, that funny thing karma gives you messages when you need to hear them I guess)... Peter sings:

"Did I dream this belief or did I believe this dream?"

That's where I'm at right now. I am thinking the things that I had convinced myself were true were really just pretty pictures I had painted for myself to accept what I wasn't ready to face. That the reality I have spent ages wanting is really just a figment of my imagination.

So here I am trying to face this reality that I have spent ages convincing myself didn't exist. It's a scary thing. A lonely thing.

But I will find relief. I grieve.