All the music and the books and shows that are out there I have yet to know of, I think to myself, as I watch Downton Abbey (for the thirtieth time) as I eagerly wait for the film to come out. FYI: I have months to wait still.
I like to think of all the explorers and inventors and everything undiscovered,
going back through history and into the present and the future I have yet to enter myself.
As I am halfway through the first month of 2019 already, I know there’s so much to discover too.
I am an explorer of my year, in my own personal narrative of a life, as I approach turning thirty-five. Sure, I am feeling wary of what might be or might not, but I am ready for the adventure and the exploration of what this year is meant to become.
Yeah, depending on the day and sometimes the hour you ask me in/on, my mood about all this changes. I feel like the start to 2019 is a slow one, but really I can’t complain about that. Life, when much more interesting, isn’t always the better alternative.
I am trying to see what’s next for me and I don’t always look at that as being a positive thing. I know I need to keep hold of the right attitude in this whole self-discovery dance I’m doing. I don’t dance well, but sometimes, you just have to flail around a bit, all four limbs, and not worry so much about what that might look like.
After all, last year at this time, I hadn’t bothered to give Downton a chance yet. How silly thirty-three-year-old me was for that.
Thanks today goes out to The Haunted Wordsmith
for such a thrilling word. (Love the blog name btw.)
I haven’t been participating in Song Lyric Sunday
for several weeks now, but December brings with it a whole lot of emotion: both joyousness and gloominess.
I’ve been thinking about those who were once boys, who eventually turned into men, and of whom we’ve lost in the month of December.
This song reminds me of family who were lost, seven years ago, as we approach the anniversary of his passing:
This is a month of joyousness at Christmas, but of sorrow in life lost to suicide too. The two contrasting emotions are stark when I experience them now, every year since.
***
If I die young
bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song
Uh oh uh oh
Lord make me a rainbow,
I’ll shine down on my mother
She’ll know I’m safe with you when She stands under my colours,
oh and Life ain’t always what you think it oughta be,
no Ain’t even grey, but she buries her baby
The sharp knife of a short life,
Well, I’ve had just enough time
If I die young
bury me in satin.
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song
The sharp knife of a short life,
Well I’ve had just enough time
And I’ll be wearing white
when I come into your kingdom
I’m as green as the ring on my little cold finger
I’ve never known the lovin’ of a man
But it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand
There’s a boy here in town says he’ll love me forever
Who would have thought forever could be severed by
The sharp knife of a short life,
Well I’ve had just enough time
So put on your best boys and I’ll wear my pearls
What I never did is done
A penny for my thoughts,
oh no I’ll sell them for a dollar
They’re worth so much more after I’m a goner
And maybe then you’ll hear the words I been singin’
Funny when you’re dead how people start listenin’
If I die young
bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song
Uh oh (uh oh)
The ballad of a dove Go with peace and love Gather up your tears, keep ’em in your pocket Save ’em for a time when your really gonna need ’em oh
The sharp knife of a short life,
Well I’ve had just enough time
Here we go again, I thought, as I was given the news and had to tell my loved ones the horrible details.
This wasn’t my family’s first time dealing with suicide of a loved one. Different side of the family, but same shock and grief.
As I recently listened to cassette tapes with my brother of our childhood, I listened to old Christmas parties and of all the kids playing, the boys playing rougher, as sometimes they are known to do. I never did hear him, as he was always a quiet boy, but I heard other cousins calling his name. Stevie, he was often called.
December is my month of pure happiness, as I remember the innocence I felt, as a young girl this time of year.
Now, that happiness is tinged with a gloominess that slices this month in half for me, as far as the festive mood I try to find.
John Lennon was also a boy once, in the biggest boy band of the day, in the 1960’s, and he is being mourned all over again, as every December rolls around.
This is my favourite John Lennon song to end this post:
I am thankful that all of Canada has come together in a time of grief.
A GoFundMe page has been set up, which has already raised over 4 million dollars for families and survivors, and Justin Trudeau visited the injured. With all the bad in the world, even in moments of shock and loss, I feel better to sense a coming together of my country, from coast to coast to coast.
I read that one of the young men recently signed his donor card. This is a tough subject, but as the sister of someone who five years ago received a kidney from another person lost, I know the other side, that the side of organ donation.
I don’t have a clue about the tragic side of having to let go like that, but to know a gift is being given, I can’t pretend I don’t recall that relief I felt for my brother’s sake and for my own.
I don’t know what else to say. It’s one of the hardest things any person could experience, I’m sure. Still, I had to speak up about it, to include it in this list.
I’m thankful for beautiful art that remains after death.
One of the fifteen killed was not only a hockey player, but he could make brilliant music on the piano. (See performance link above.)
I will start and end this TToT post, speaking of music, but as things must and do go on…
I’m thankful I got a sudden call that a cancelation came up for me to get a physical therapy appointment finally.
I’ve been waiting for this call for over a year now.
I’m thankful the therapist took the time to go through my lengthy medical history with me.
It took up her whole allotted hour. We didn’t even have time to get to any stretches.
I’m thankful she plans to educate herself, to read up on my rare syndrome, before our next appointment.
I am thankful for the smooth and textured needs of two new bracelets.
Some are smooth, but other parts are made up of lava stone. They have tiny grooves in them and you’re supposed to drip the smallest drop of essential oil on them. Then, I can have a gentle and soothing touch of scent against the skin of my wrist, wherever I go.
My cousin, who runs a hair salon, also sells handmade items, such as jewelry and things. I like to shop, supporting local makers.
I’m thankful I got to attend my violin teacher’s masters recital.
I met her family after and they, along with her friends and other students/teachers, were all so proud of her, including this one student of hers in particular.
So many people, all there to support her. She has worked at it nearly all of her life. Her skill has taken years to develop. I will miss her and everything she’s done for me, once she moves on for further education, but this show was outstanding.
I was in a mood all that day, before her show that night. I don’t know what it was or why. I kind of wonder if it wasn’t me, feeling anxious and nervous, for her sake. I get more nervous for others more than for myself, if possible, when someone I know or care about is going to be tested or performing in front of people, like when my brother plays guitar.
This time, I am not sure, maybe it was just a bad day. Then, when I sat down, the song she played on her violin seemed to calm me, changing my mood and reducing my anxiety. The song was something I’d really never heard before. It was abrupt and anxious sounding, but it seemed to put, into music, the exact feelings I’d been experiencing. It took it all down several notches and I felt like it expressed precisely how I’d felt.
I’m thankful for not only a piece of music that speaks to me, but also a passage in a book.
This one is from A Wrinkle In Time. I read it and it brought together the elements of my own head, the themes that have been with me most of my life, something deep inside, of which I’ve put into my own song lyrics in the past. I’ve even dreamt this sensation:
“This movement, she felt, must be the turning of the earth, rotating on’ its axis, traveling its elliptic course about the sun. And this feeling of moving with the earth was somewhat like the feeling of being in the ocean, out in the ocean beyond this rising and falling of the breakers, lying on the moving water, pulsing gently with the swells, and feeling the gentle, inexorable tug of the moon.”
From the moon to the sea…RIP to those lost and deepest condolences to all those who’ve lost loved ones.
Sometimes a song comes on the radio and speaks to someone:
Here you go Dad.
***
You shine like a star
You know who you are
You’re everything beautiful
She’s hot, hot like the sun
The loneliest one
Still everything beautiful
Well I’ll be god damned
You’re standing at my door
We stayed up in the city
Until the stars lost the war
So Friday night, holy ghost
Take me to your level
Show me the one I need the most
I need the most
I wish I knew you when I was young
We could’ve got so high
Now we’re here it’s been so long
Two strangers in the bright lights
Oh I hope you don’t mind
We can share my mood
Two strangers in the bright lights
I wish I knew you
I wish I knew you
Oh I wish I knew you when I was young
Truth, it’s all that you need
You bury that seed
It’s everything beautiful
That sound comes from the underground
It’s all inside you now
It’s everything beautiful
But what are you running from?
They got you on the run?
So Friday night, holy ghost
Take me to your level
Show me the one I need the most
I need the most
I wish I knew you when I was young
We could’ve got so high
Now we’re here it’s been so long
Two strangers in the bright lights
Oh and I hope you don’t mind
We can share my mood, yeah
Two strangers in the bright lights
I wish I knew you
I wish I knew you
Oh I wish I knew you when I was young
Maybe we can share my mood
Whoa, whoa, whoa
Maybe we can share my mood
Whoa, whoa, whoa
Maybe we can share my mood
Whoa, whoa, whoa
I wish I knew you when I was young
We could’ve got so high
Now we’re here it’s been so long
Two strangers in the bright lights
Oh and I hope you don’t mind
We can share my mood, yeah
Two strangers in the bright lights
I wish I knew you
I wish I knew you
Oh I wish I knew you when I was young
This week’s SLS:
so near the holidays and the end of yet another year, and a lot of wishing goes on for us all.
It’s all the pretending we partake in and the pretending things were once better that can get in the way of living in the “now” of the present.
Regrets are plentiful. It’s a main theme in A Christmas Carol and I watch at Christmas, every single year, and think of the past, present, and future of it all.
Pretending things are fine when they aren’t. Pretending things were so much better when they likely weren’t.
“She promised herself she would see the world, and so she did.”
-Virginia Woolf
Sometimes I fear, as I write piece after piece about my first solo travel experience for interested and curious editors, that I will never again get the chance.
I took the Woolf quote from my writing mentor’s email signature because I feel like I could be that quote, if only…
I’m thankful that I can call my sister anytime and hear my little niece babbling happily in the background.
She is old enough now that my sister can put her down on the floor, with some toys, and then get some stuff done around the house while my niece entertains herself a little.
I don’t have to go far to see them in person, but sometimes, in the moment, I am dealing with something hard and hearing that little girl chatting away happily is the only thing that can make a difference in my mood.
She is just that precious.
I’m thankful for a lovely home visit with my friend because downtown was so incredibly busy.
It was a warm day again and the downtown area was busy with Thursday market and other things.
So, instead, we went through a drive through and took coffees back to my air conditioned house.
I’m thankful for a return into the world of yoga.
My instructor got rather busy at the end of summer, but we are starting again, now that fall has nearly arrived.
My balance wasn’t bad, but I still fight shaky arms.
The end-of-session silent meditation time was my favourite part, again, though this time I had a harder time blocking out everything I have had on my mind lately.
Other than a few Skype difficulties, it was not bad for having missed multiple weeks.
I’m thankful for a surprise acceptance email in the evening.
Different editors work varied hours, but normally I don’t expect to hear from them after eight in the evening.
This one was such a pleasant surprise and a great opportunity.
I can’t really see it anymore, but I still watch any documentary I can get my hands on about the sea. It’s just amazing what animals are programmed to do.
Oh, to have become a marine biologist, free to study such miracles all the time.
I’m thankful I could book an eye appointment.
I haven’t been to see my retinal specialist since March of 2014 and I was worried I might need a referral to get back in there.
I am sort of worried about my eyesight, feeling it slipping away, and it’s about time I get some peace of mind, if possible.
I have been seeing this specialist for over twenty years, ever since a mysterious virus attacked my left eye and started in on my right. This doctor was understanding and patient and did his best to save my little remaining vision.
Now I need to hear he sees nothing wrong and that maybe there is hope. Though I bet he won’t see anything and I will feel even worse about what my gut is telling me is going on.
I still am grateful to have this doctor and he may just have a comforting word, said in his soft, soothing voice.
I’m thankful for seconds.
At the market, a bag of my favourite September apples costs quite a lot, but if you are willing to settle for the apples that didn’t quite make the cut during inspection, the price goes down considerably.
I have inspected many of these apples that weren’t quite good enough, finding nothing wrong. It’s not like they are covered in worm holes and mushy bruises.
They are still the apples I love. I am happy to take the ones nobody else wanted.
I’m thankful for my writer mentors and friends and their belief in me and my writing.
Just knowing such wildly talented writers believe in me, that they consider my writing so highly, this means everything to me.
That they describe my latest freelance writing successes in this way: “well deserved catapult to glory”.
I especially love that the piece referred to in this case was published in Catapult
and I can’t believe my piece is visible on their main page.
On those days when I am feeling down about a pitch rejection or not hearing back from a short story contest I’d entered, their faith in me is just the thing to make me reconsider my own talent, as something I am working on constantly and am meant to do.
I’m thankful for a complimentary email to brighten up my weekend.
The one travel publication I received an acceptance for last week read something I got published (the Catapult piece I included here in the last TToT) and they emailed me, the editor, to say how much they enjoyed reading it and are even more sure about my participation in their literary journal.
It was just the thing to brighten up my dismal weekend.
I’m thankful for unexpected acts of kindness.
As my friend and I were going through the drive through to get our coffee, the worker at the window asked if we wanted to purchase a smile cookie to support a good cause.
I said why not, as it is for a good cause, and then we drove to the next window.
It turns out, the car ahead of ours offered to pay for our cookie and I suddenly felt warmer than the day could cause. It was a warm feeling of gratitude and for the kindness that still exists in my town and in the world.
And, speaking of lifting quotes from others…
The title for this TToT post I got the idea for from
Lisa
and from Christine Carter’s book
all about self care and healing.
These ladies have a point, in that I am not dealing with any disaster. My brother’s accident a few years ago, that was a disaster for the family.
My week was far from disastrous and I am thankful for that.
The anthology I was published in two years ago is being rereleased this summer. I received the surprise email to confirm I still wanted to be a part of the project.
I’m thankful for a successful first violin lesson in weeks.
Other than writing, I have never felt so frustrated one minute and wanting to give up and then so determined the next minute as I feel with the violin. It’s my roller coaster.
I’m thankful for an anniversary celebrated with my friends at “The Elsewhere Region”.
We celebrated the existence of writing group, two years on, with blueberry cheesecake and, you guessed it, writing.
I have written more fiction, more stories, starting during those nights in the group than I’ve done on my own time in a while. The short story I submitted to the Alice Munro Short Story Contest, for instance, was begun there. Though I found out this week that I did not qualify with it (bummer), I am still glad it came out of that place.
I hope there are many more still to come.
I’m thankful for the chance to see my sister included in a team of dedicated women.
My dad and I walked to see her game the one night. We stood there and I listened as best I could. It was the sound of the coaches leading their players, encouraging them by shouting positive reinforcement and the other teammates cheering them on that was so nice to see.
My sister hasn’t played in over ten years, since before motherhood and time gone by, which makes it all the much harder to jump back into a game like baseball. I admire that.
Hearing a group of women encouraging each other to do their best. I wish I could be a part of something like that.
I’m thankful that my nephew is getting more comfortable with his baseball.
He is still so little, but he will get there. Maybe he will play for many years and maybe he’ll ultimately decide baseball isn’t for him. Either way, he gets to learn about being on a team, just like his mom.
I’m thankful for my sister, two years older.
Our two-year age gap feels like nothing really. She will always be my big sister though. She is one of my biggest influences, an example I follow, two years behind and I like celebrating her every May that comes around with the loveliness of spring.
I’m thankful for a Friday morning surprise phone call.
I’ve volunteered with the Kidney Foundation of Canada for years, since soon after my transplant, and now I was contacted about getting involved more so, possibly with public speaking opportunities about diagnosis, dialysis, living donation, organ transplant, and hopefully to offer some hope that life can be good for twenty years with care and a little bit of luck.
I’m thankful for an enlightening and enjoyable conversation with my new neighbour.
She showed me around her home and we sat at her kitchen table for over two hours, talking about writing, the town we live in, family, and she wanted to meet the rest of mine.
She came by two days later, for a drink, to meet my brothers and my sister-in-law and the kids.
I’m thankful for a family day.
We were celebrating my sister’s birthday when we could all be together.
It was Victoria Day long weekend here in Canada. This means the carnival comes close to my house and we all walked down there together.
My nephews went on the cars and my niece went on a few rides all by herself. She is braver than I ever was when I was her age.
We went on the gravity ride with her (my brothers and I) and it felt both good and bad.
It was a glimpse of what going on a ride like that was like as a kid, moments of pure pleasure, and then I’d return to being thirty-three and I’d feel a little ill and I was off balance for a long time after the ride ended.
We passed games with those people yelling and bells ringing and buzzers buzzing. It was loud and a little went a long way, but I remember what it was like to find such a thrill from a place like that.
The child roller coaster was loudest of all. Every click/thud of the cars as they went around the bends and up and down, up and down. Life is loud and uncomfortable a lot of times.
I’m thankful for extended family that are cool and care about what’s most important.
whole front porch
We had a lovely afternoon sitting on my front porch and talking about everything under the sun. My aunt and uncle spoke about my cousins and we discussed movies and animals and family.
As for roller coasters…
Buckle up because we’re only about ten feet up the clicky part.
—The Daily Show
Whether it’s 45, a sicko who attacks a concert full of young girls, an attack on a bus in Egypt, a knife attack by a white supremacist on a train, I can’t seem to get off the roller coaster, but gratitude for family and fun and flowers takes the edge off the nausea a little bit.
This song doesn’t deny that life can be hard. It simply speaks truth, but in a positive musical package.
***
I’ve got a smile on my face, and I’ve got four walls around me I’ve got the sun in the sky, all the water surround me Oh you know, ya I’ve been down and sometimes I’ll lose I’ve been battered, but I’ll never bruise… it’s not so bad
And I say way-hey-hey, it’s just an ordinary day And it’s all your state of mind At the end of the day, You’ve just got to say… it’s all right.
Gina sings on the corner, what keeps her from dying Let them say what they want, but she won’t stop trying..Oh you know, She might stumble, they push her ’round She might fall, but she’ll never lie down…it’s not so bad
And I say way-hey-hey, it’s just an ordinary day And it’s all your state of mind At the end of the day, You’ve just got to say… it’s all right.
It’s alright, it’s alright…it’s ALRIGHT.
‘Cause in this beautiful life there’s always some sorrow And It’s a double-edged knife, but there’s always tomorrow..Oh you know, It’s up to you now if you sink or swim, Just keep the faith and you’re ship will come in. it’s not so bad
And I say way-hey-hey, it’s just an ordinary day And it’s all your state of mind At the end of the day, You’ve just got to say…
I say way-hey-hey, it’s just an ordinary day And it’s all your state of mind At the end of the day, You’ve just got to say… it’s all right, it’s all right
I’ve got a smile on my face, and I’ve got four walls around me
This music is from Canada and from out east. I find a lot of that sort of music lifts my spirits. With so much depressing news from all over the world these days, I Can’t Not feel a little better at least, if not temporarily, when I listen to this band’s songs.
We could all complain, and we do, because life isn’t always easy. I just need to listen to Great Big Sea and my mood brightens.
Paradise isn’t a word I often like to use, nor ordinary. I just try to use music to feel better, to help remind me that I am lucky.
One of my favourite Christmas time traditions growing up was to go for a drive on a snowy night to check out all the houses and their lights, coloured or all white. Didn’t matter, not at one time.
This holiday season I still feel grateful for so many things, including the lights of Christmas. It is not so easy to spot houses covered in lights anymore, but I am still thankful. Having traditions at this time of year helps to brighten my mood as the end of another year draws to a close.
And what a year it was.
I am unable to really see this photo now, but sounds nice anyway. Trees. Lights. Snowflakes softly drifting down.
December is here once more. I have a tree-like situation in my living room, lights outside on my house, and snow is starting here in my part of Canada, but all over really.
I am thankful for where I live.
I am thankful because I know Canada isn’t the greatest country in the world, but it is pretty great still. I am happy to see Justin Trudeau using social media, as is how it’s done these days, but he uses it without malice or ugly undertones.
The still current U.S. VP Joe Biden visited Canada this week and spoke to the Prime Minister and the representatives of the provinces, about climate change. It is close to many Canadian’s hearts and on many of our minds, the arctic, pipeline concerns, effects of oil on animal species, and severe weather patterns with melting sea ice. It isn’t so easy to ignore, but I know it isn’t easy to figure out either.
I know a lot of people who live here hate the cold and the snow of the long winter months Canada is so well-known for, but I can’t think of anything better than a still, silent, and snowy night.
I am thankful to have a mother who loves decorating for the holidays and she sets everything up for me, now that I am on my own.
Last year, around this time, our family found ourselves in a frightening situation, likely the most frightening we’d ever experienced, which is saying a whole lot.
It wasn’t so easy and somehow didn’t feel quite so important to decorate for Christmas, while we waited to see what my brother would be like when he woke from a sudden head injury.
Of course, as soon as the shock wore off and things began to look up, family and holidays were once more the priority and felt right to celebrate.
None of us, nobody in fact wants to spend Christmas in a hospital, but they are so nice to have when needed.
I am thankful that I can still see Christmas lights.
Who knows…next year this time…five years from now…ten and beyond. I’m living in the now and enjoying what I have while I have it.
I am thankful for the recognition that is still extremely necessary and is brought into focus on December 3rd, every single year.
It feels good to see the plans forming officially. It will be here before we know it…before I know it. Preparing. I can and I will do this.
I am thankful for the help I’ve received so I can be comfortable with my stuff I will be taking with me, my ability to read and write, and to just fit in and be another member of the class.
I am thankful for the guidance from my writing mentor, a wonderfully helpful local travel agent, my parents, and all the family members who have been so supportive of me wanting to take on a new adventure in 2017.
I’m thankful for some of the fascinating reading material I’ve received already, reading material about one place in particular where we’ll be during the writing workshop.
I am reading New York Times articles about a place of art and that goes by the name, translated from Spanish, to mean “House of Frogs” I believe. Better than “House of Scorpions” as I am a little more nervous at the thought, ever since I read “The Pearl” in high school.
One minute, it went from the reading material from off of my shelf, to use for scanner practice, and then suddenly two copies were being requested. A lovely surprise.
In the last month or two I’ve gotten my anthology possibly sent and traveled all the way to Australia and now a copy will surely live at a school for the blind that I did not attend, but I know lots of people who did.
“Crocodiles are easy. They try to kill and eat you. People are harder. Sometimes they pretend to be your friend first.”
—
“I have a message for my fans. Whatever you want to do in this world, it is achievable. The most important thing that I’ve found, that perhaps you could use, is be passionate and enthusiastic in the direction that you choose in life, and you’ll be a winner.”
—Steve Irwin
I’m just here, on this final long weekend of the summer, watching Crocodile Hunter videos on YouTube. I loved him. Not sure how it started, but I loved him for his Australian accent and for his larger-than-life personality, but mostly because he had so much passion for animals. He seemed to know, instinctively, what his passion in life was, when I did not feel nearly as sure of my own. I guess, the more I listened to him speak, I suppose I hoped I would figure that out, like something from all that energy and enthusiasm he used to put forth might rub off on me.
And so I dedicate this week’s Ten Things of Thankful to Steve because I was hardly even writing at all when he died and I didn’t get to write any sort of tribute back then.
Sounds like a trip to the movies, doesn’t it? In this case, when normally it’s such a difficult choice between those two things when approaching the concession stand, it’s not a matter of any choice this time.
It’s another catchy and memorable line to help me break up notes in Twinkle Twinkle on my violin.
It is a little hard to explain, but it’s one more reason I am loving the surprises each time I have a lesson. I am learning faster than one might imagine. I have my moments of course, long way to go yet, but I am building the foundation for my future as a star violinist, at least in my own circles in which I currently travel.
I’m thankful for a glass of champagne and some delicious fried chicken tacos after my violin lesson.
A lovely evening, late dinner out on a patio. The drink wasn’t to celebrate anything in particular, other than another successful lesson. I thought that worthy enough of a beginning of the week celebration just then.
And then, don’t get me started on those appetizers. Wish they had been my whole meal.
Have you ever eaten coleslaw in a taco? Topped with the kind of fried chicken that could beat KFC any time.
I’m thankful that Brian and I were able to, after a few starts and stops, get most of Episode Two: Ingredients Listed recorded of our podcast, Ketchup On Pancakes.
I had it all planned out, and it takes a certain amount of planning to be ready to record.
Then something is missing. Either one or both of us just isn’t feeling it. There needs to be a certain kind of mood and I knew it might be this tricky. The whole structure of our podcast is how we interact as siblings. That relationship can’t or at least it shouldn’t be pushed or else we end up sounding less like ourselves and more like we think two people on a podcast should sound. That is definitely what we don’t want.
We are going by no real time table at this early stage. We are taking our time and not rushing or pushing it. It comes out naturally, organically, when it’s meant to be.
Thankful for all the lessons I’m learning about editing.
This is nothing new, or shouldn’t be, for anyone who claims themselves a writer. Editing is part of life and ever more is it becoming so as I write more.
Well, this is a manifestation of that same skill development I’m learning. It is hard, when it is something you’ve created, to cut some of that out. It just isn’t practical to keep everything. An hour is what we’re aiming for with this podcast, when many are less than, but we are following our own instincts and not paying attention to what anyone else may be doing.
And so I create and then we execute that creative vision and then we cut out and trim and edit and narrow down.
Hope to have our second episode finished sometime this month. A lot more to learn.
I’m thankful for the arrival of September.
I realize what this signifies to most people. I don’t long for extreme cold and snow either. I just dislike extreme heat and humidity. Just because September means one month closer to winter isn’t enough of a reason to dislike it. Now, if I were going back to school in any traditional way I might understand.
To me the cooler nights and decrease in hot hot days is when I’m most comfortable. I love the way the scent in the air changes. I love the apples.
I’m thankful for the release of a truly modernized take on travel, place, travel based writing, and so much more.
September 1st was the day their first publication came out. I like that their first one is focused on firsts.
I hope to have a piece I’ve written published here one day.
I’m thankful for bees.
I spoke of apples above. Well, I wouldn’t have my apples if it weren’t for bees.
And so, after one patio lunch this week which included sharing my meal and a lovely final day of August afternoon atmosphere with them, I can gladly say: thanks for not being too loud with your buzzing and thanks for not stinging me. Oh, and thanks for all you do with the pollinating of the flowering buds on the apple trees.
With all the fear of Zika virus lately, so much so that lots of bees were killed in the States from some attempt to kill dangerous mosquitos – I am able to carry my long standing phobia of bees and put it in its proper perspective, enough to appreciate the apples I hope to enjoy in the days and weeks to come.
Of course, I am not at any immediate risk from those virus carrying mosquito pests, threatening the lives of so many unborn babies either. There’s got to be a better way to handle it.
I’m thankful for birds and Canadian birds especially.
I thought of this the other night, hearing a flock of geese outside, and proud to live where I live, that they are known as Canadian geese.
Whether it’s the squawking of a bluejay or a sea gull or even the cawing of the crows I don’t like quite so much.
I am currently working on writing about Tolkien’s participation in World War I where he easily could have been taken far too soon, depriving the world of so much.
When he did die, many years later, he died an old man.
Not everyone is so lucky.
I’m thankful for all that Steve Irwin (Crocodile Hunter) gave of himself, until his heartbreaking death ten years ago.
“If we save our wild places, we will ultimately save ourselves.”
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“We don’t own the planet Earth, we belong to it. And we must share it with our wildlife.”
I’ll never forget when I heard of his death. I was moving out of my childhood home and into my very first house.
I didn’t exactly find it to be an unexpected end to a life. All that time around all kinds of creatures and it was bound to happen. It was a fluke thing, when all other days he had come out alive.
Very few people devote their whole lives to animals. I wish there were more Steve Irwins’ in the world because animals are constantly about to be found on the nearly extinct list and people are afraid of things they don’t understand, animals included, and that is why Steve did what he did.
“I have no fear of losing my life – if I have to save a koala or a crocodile or a kangaroo or a snake, mate, I will save it.”
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“If we can teach people about wildlife, they will be touched. Share my wildlife with me. Because humans want to save things that they love.”
This week I was reminded just how much I have to lose. That means I haven’t even come close to having nothing left.
Not everyone can say that. We here in Ontario, Canada, we experienced our own little incident with radicalism recently. He was attending a mosque just down the street from where my brother lives. They tried to help him, but unfortunately he was a very angry and disillusioned young man.
We are not immune here, in Ontario, in Canada, in North America, but that doesn’t suggest we should then turn toward hate all our own.
In a week where privileged young star athletes act poorly in Rio, when another image of war torn Syria features a small child, and where more attention is given to that athlete than to floods and fires and the suffering of children to begin with,
I search out blessings and I remember to look for the bright side of life.
In spite of that, I liked this film. I hope the mother I saw this with enjoyed it as much. Motherhood, toughest job around.
For a small step in the progress of my lessons and for my violin teacher taking the time to record herself playing the two basic songs I am learning technique on.
I thought the other day about how learning the violin, for me, feels meant to be. It feels natural, or oh so close to.
It’s as if I am walking in a forest and I’ve come to a stream just a bit too wide for me to jump across. I can see the opposite side and I just need to find a bridge or even some stones to get me to the opposite bank.
The other side, where violin music comes to me, flows through me, naturally, that’s in view.
For fresh food grown in my back yard.
Of course, without the work of a couple cousins who do this sort of thing for a living, a dedicated ex boyfriend, or the gifted hand of my mother and her knowledge about all things gardening, I wouldn’t have had any of it.
It’s a nice feeling to hold a fresh cucumber in your hands and bite into it, knowing it only came from your own yard. Something rooted in the natural world so close and yet so far from myself. I owe others who care to make nature such a part of things so that I can enjoy it.
For the extra effort some are putting into me and my future.
I often feel like an extra weight or burden for others, including family, friends, and any other relationship. I guess having most kinds of relationships with me can demand certain things of people.
I hope I give back, as much as possible, in my own unique ways. I hope I bring something to each situation as it comes. I pledge to do that once more, for all who took the time out this week to help me not to give up on my future growth and progress.
This is my promise.
That I got to speak with an amazing Canadian travel writer.
For me though, it would likely be more like: dream, breathe, and then go. Take the deep breath and dive in. My dreams are waiting for me, out there somewhere.
We had a brief but helpful phone conversation where we spoke about solo travel as a woman and finding the confidence necessary to become comfortable traveling alone.
Our situations are quite different, but she has experience and knowledge and I was grateful she took a few moments out of her day to return my call and speak to me for a short time.
For another full moon.
I understand the science behind the moon, its phases, and the pull of the tides of our oceans. I think it’s rather magnificent.
I also understand how some feel those forces mess with their mood. I can see that.
For me however, a full moon is my best shot of actually seeing it up in the night sky. When it’s at its brightest and roundest I have a better chance at spotting it and I cherish that opportunity.
But yet, when I can’t find it in all that darkness I still know it’s out there somewhere. That’s my best lesson in faith, whatever your beliefs or religion might be.
For medical and surgical advancement and the ability of doctors to perform gall bladder surgery.
My mother had it done and so did my sister. It causes a lot of women especially a lot of trouble.
Now it is needed again and I am glad those in need this time around can receive the surgery and hopefully recover from here on out. Modern medicine in this part of the world saves lives and halts so much pain and suffering. We are lucky and blessed to have it so readily available to us around here.
That we here in Canada could come together for one night.
I admit that The Tragically Hip aren’t my favourite band. I am, by no means, their biggest fan. Still, it was a strange feeling of oneness last night. The Rio Olympics were preempted and the CBC instead broadcast this final concert by a Canadian iconic musical group and their singer who may not have very long left to live.
What would it be like, what would any of us say or do if we knew we had so little likely time left to live?
When a bulb burns out I see
Even in the dark, it feels sunny to me
Skipping in the shadows, every corner holds beauty
There is always light if you look closely
Her Headache 