Canadian winters… You adapt to the season or you escape to warmer climates.
For those of us who are not beach lovers or sun worshipers, we choose to stay and make the best of it. Sometime after January 31st, we start complaining.
Public Transportation experience
We pop our Vitamin C, D and Omega-3 and absorb the glow from the DayLight lamp while we curse the inconveniences of the season. We get in gentle exercise, cautious walks outdoors, small social gatherings then retreat indoors for quiet activities.
As someone who appreciates the quiet and calm of my humble abode, I make efforts to refresh my living space and head space by performing winter housecleaning and preparation for the Lunar New Year. It’s a valid excuse to add ceremony to housework, to make it fun and hopeful.
Of course, when you share living space with cats, you adjust the placement of items to maintain harmony in your home.
Cats avoiding the cleaning staff
One way I refresh my head space is learning new things, doodling, listening to uplifting music and reading. When you’re a bus mouse, you can get in some good reading time – if you can find a good seat for the long workday commutes.
I Ching Handbook
So as we navigate through and negotiate with Winter, we can remind ourselves that it will soon lead to Spring.
There is hope.
Thanks for reading along! How do you survive Winter in your neck of the worldly woods?
While passing by an urban park in Ottawa recently, I noticed something I loved had been taken away.
One of my favourite spots for work day wanderings and pondering had been painted over.
Favourite Bench at Dundonald Park with new art
The new art work looked like bare tree limbs against a multicolored sunset. Either that or some artistic feather design.
I noticed a few other benches had been painted over too.
Dundonald park benches painted anew
It had been a while since I took a lunchtime walk up here but this change must have occurred just this autumn. I am sure I will eventually find out why someone did this but I’m still processing, reeling from the change to favourite park bench’s art. I had become fond of the previous artwork and what it represented to me as I approached a wonderful new discovery in 2015 and rekindled relationships.
Dundonald Park bench 2015
It will take me a while to accept the new design. But … as in my professional and personal life, I have learned to adapt to change, to accept the changes that are beyond my control.
At least my two favourite trees have not changed – except for losing their leaves again in preparation for winter’s sleep.
Two tree tops touching Nov 10 2017
I was consoled and delighted to see something new – a little book lending library.
It was an extended Thanksgiving holiday peppered with family gatherings, feasting and a lot of car travel. It was also one tarnished by news of another assault on a sacred site in the nation’s capital.
I spent most of my vacation week traveling with family to visit others in the Greater Sudbury area. The long drive was accompanied and enhanced by the natural fall colours. We enjoyed a couple of days of conversation, feasting, playing cards and going on an outing to a natural attraction. We drove farther north to Onaping Falls to visit the AY Jackson lookout.
A walking stick rests after a tour of the natural beauty of Onaping Falls
I enjoyed the fresh, cool air and exercise plus another chance to catch up with older and wiser relatives.
Blonde woman at the bridge over Onaping River and Falls
When I returned home stiff yet elated, I was relieved that one of the offspring heeded my request to visit le petit apartment and check on the cats.
A peaceful Sunday setting in the Tabby cat’s habitat
While I was savoring the memories of visiting Onaping Falls and viewing photographs of its natural settings, my activist friends in the Ottawa area were having to educate the public, the politicians, anyone who would listen about the shameful activities happening again at a sacred site in the Ottawa River.
With water bottle, granola bars and sun hat ready yesterday, I set out on public transit to cross the river to la belle province – specifically to Gatineau, Quebec.
The Jacques Cartier Park lineup to get in and past security was very long. I didn’t realize until after I took what looked like a clear passage on a side road that I was cutting into the line. I apologized to the people beside me, using my confusion as an excuse.
It was an impressive exhibit.
There were dozens of sculptures artistically made with plants, depicting different stages in Canada’s history. The exhibit took us back in time to the First Nations, the voyageurs and early settlers.
Due to the crowds of people in the way and my short stature, I could not find the time or patience to stop and take photos of all the displays. I adored them with my eyes and stored the images, my reaction and appreciation for them in my short-term memory bank.
Crowds of humans adoring Mother Earth
The main attraction, pièce de résistance was Mother Earth. As I took shaded shelter under the trees before merging into that long queue, I overheard a security guard saying to people resting on the grass, “Move faster. Move faster!”
I can understand that they wanted to keep bodies moving and make room for the hundreds of others waiting at the entrance. It just seemed ironic that we were being rushed and not allowed the time to stop, to reflect and appreciate the magnificence of the scene.
It was ironic to see Mother Earth set with a backdrop of high-rise buildings. Perhaps it was complimentary in that we can learn to balance our desire for progress and modern expansion with a respect for nature and the ancient traditions.
Perhaps.
Mother Earth in the city
Did I achieve my objectives?
Yes.
I pushed myself to venture into a crowded public place. Alone.
I took pictures with my smart phone but I also took time just to admire the art, to observe other people and eavesdrop on their conversations, their reactions to the exhibit.
Since I went alone, I was on my own schedule and was able to set my own pace (except when getting swept into the flow past some displays and jammed still at others).
Today it’s raining. I shall stay in my humble home to putter with houseplants, to reflect and write, to cook a batch of meaty pasta sauce.
I changed the C cell batteries in my Zen Alarm clock. Once again it makes a loud and proud chime in the key of E rather than a dull thud. It had been almost three years since I coveted and acquired it.
When I look back at my observations, writing and personal growth since then, it seems that things haven’t improved in our outer world. It’s like we’re stuck in some ambitious, testosterone-fueled cycle. I know I have been working on myself. What about the rest of the world, for Pete’s sake?!
I changed, edited the quote on that poster from:
“We can never obtain peace in the outer world until we make peace with ourselves.” — Dalai Lama
To:
“We can only obtain peace in the outer world once we make peace with ourselves.”
I felt the quote could use a positive injection – for so many reasons.
That’s a bold prediction from someone so naturally fair of skin and hair.
I am okay with that possibility.
First, I can say that because I have brown offspring from a mixed marriage. In my eyes and their doting Aunties’, these children were beautiful, intelligent and well-behaved.
I was often oblivious to the colour of my children’s skin yet experienced some strange looks and comments when we were out in public. The most humorous and innocent was when a child at the local park asked if I was their babysitter.
Yes, they have met challenges with finding their identity, their place in society. They adapted. They survived. Some of them identify as Black or POC (Person of Colour). None of them have adopted urban stereotypes nor have they been in trouble with the law.
To me, they are beautiful humans, the next generation. I raised them to be positive contributors to their community and to society. They know how to speak up when they see injustices. They too will make beautiful babies if they so choose or can afford to raise a family in this precarious economy.
In the 90s, I grooved to this song from Michael Jackson. It spoke to me – except for the beginning featuring a loud, dysfunctional family then the parts where MJ is grabbing his genitals, smashing up a parked car and vandalizing empty store windows. Apparently, the main body of the “Black or White” short film reflects the song’s lyrical plea for racial and cultural unity. That message was lost on me into the eight minute mark. I think MJ also wanted to express issues with father figures, the automotive industry, consumerism and colonialism.
You will be thankful I found the shortened version.
My second posit is that my white, blond son from an earlier relationship chose to marry a lovely woman of Asian origin. I see that he inherited the “non-conformist” gene as well as the blond one.
Their children are beautiful. My grandchildren are beautiful.
My grandchildren.
It was comments I heard years ago from a stand-up comedian that stuck with me and inspired me to draft this blog entry.
Quoting Paul Rodriguez, “One hundred years from now, our children’s children… everybody’s going to be Filipino”
(Start at 1:30)
I’m okay with that.
Regardless of their skin colour or which version of the Creator they honour, I have hopes for my grandchildren, my great-grandchildren and those to follow.
I hope the shared traits of humanity such as compassion will calm the fear and hatred of those feeling threatened. Is it possible that the good ole boys are scared? Are they trying to protect their heritage, their culture?
Why did it take public outrage at his initial comments for Tweetle-Dum to finally denounce the white supremacists?
Let’s remember that this continent was occupied by other people thousands of years before those European colonizers and immigrants arrived with their ships.
The first people had a respect for the power of nature, the seasons, the animals they hunted for food. They hunted out of necessity, not for sport. We could learn from the First Nations about living in harmony with nature and planning seven generations ahead.
It’s going to be a struggle but people will learn that harmonious survival of the human race and Mother Earth is more important than skin colour, religious dogma and power. At the basic root, we need to ensure clean air, water and arable land.
Here are some changes i would like to see in our gently blended future:
Muscle cars and air-polluting auto racing will no longer exist. Neither will fossil fuels.
Reusable energy from the sun, wind and oceans will power our needs.
People will be educated, active and civil. We will see a return to public discourse and philosophical discussions.
Artists will be respected and supported regardless of their eccentricities ;-^
The fashion industry will reuse materials and will not be so frivolous and wasteful. We will do away with stilettos, latex and skinny jeans.
There will challenges with how we define culture.
Some people may still want to pierce their body parts, tattoo their skin and dye their hair to stand out, to show their individualism or create a sense of belonging in some form of neo-tribalism. Some may try to appear so unique as to bleach their hair blonde. I hope the chemicals don’t harm their brain cells or our ecosystem as a result.
If we deplete and pollute this planet to the point of no recovery and have to spread out into the galaxy, to meet and rely on other species, I just hope we can still celebrate and respect diversity.
What was the point of the series? Celebrating diversity. Here’s Star Trek creator, Gene Roddenberry, explaining: pic.twitter.com/toaFoGQNXx
Last weekend I attended the Capital Ukrainian Festival.
I was looking forward to music, cultural crafts and … perogies.
I was also challenging my aversion to crowds, spending hours in the hot sun and lining up for food.
Capital Ukrainian Festival – dancers
The musicians and dancers certainly entertained the visitors in the hot afternoon sun. There were all kinds of vendor tents and scheduled tours of the church.
Capital Ukrainian Festival
I abandoned my quest for perogies and other tasty treats due to the long lineups in the hot sun. The shaded merchant tent was more appealing for my delicate complexion and conducive to locating inexpensive, practical items. I found some colourful, blank greeting cards for sending to family and friends. Yes, I’m one of the people who still do that.
I was attracted to the watches displayed by one of the merchants. I was also curious about the symbols on the watch face.
It was the Tryzub Cross. I was curious to learn more. The Tryzub Cross is simply a cross-bar on the middle tine of a tryzub.
But what is a ‘tryzub’? And why should it have a cross-bar? ‘Tryzub’ (тризуб) is Ukrainian for “trident” and is one of Christianity’s earliest symbols. A trident with a Cross is associated with St. Vladimir the Great (980–1015).
The merchant explained the history and practices of the watch manufacturer plus let me try on a couple of the ladies’ models. I didn’t commit to purchasing one right away yet accepted the brochure for something to look at while I digested the price! If you have the means and time to learn more about these beautiful watches, you can visit the vendor’s web site at http://kleynodwatches.com/
Eventually during my wanderings, I came across plenty of Ukrainian Easter eggs.
Did you know…?The word pysanka comes from the verb pysaty, “to write”, as the designs are not painted on, but written with beeswax.
A year ago, hundreds of kindred souls joined in a walk from Victoria Island to Parliament Hill.
Indigenous People and allies gathered, walked and demonstrated their support for protecting a sacred place in the heart of Canada’s capital. I joined in too on that hot, sunny day.
We were protesting the condo development that was being allowed due to various cracks in the system of our courts and unfair, unclear zoning laws.
This year, the Faith is Peace march on June 23rd was championed by interfaith leaders who supported the movement to protect this sacred place. We were accompanied by clouds and intermittent rain which seemed appropriate for the tears of disbelief that this demonstration is still necessary during Canada’s 150th birthday year.
Faith is Peace march to Parliament Hill June 23 2017
We gathered on the Hill for almost two hours, listening to drummers, singers and speeches. We heard once again about the sacredness of Akikodiwan, the importance of clean water, spiritual ceremonies, partnership of men and women – and with reassurance, the importance of the role of women in Indigenous communities.
Through the rattling and banging of the Canada Day stage construction, the faith leaders’ sound system persevered.
We heard speeches from representatives of various faith groups who reinforced the importance of recognizing and respecting sacred spaces.
We heard young people speak their views on the issue.
Faith is Peace demonstration and speeches on Parliament Hill June 23 2017
During the final week of June, Canadians observed interesting developments as a group of Indigenous People, water protectors and their allies made it past Parliament Hill security to erect a ceremonial teepee. After some dispute with police, they were allowed to set up on the East side of the hill. The day before Canada Day, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau visited the demonstrators.
Officials allowed the teepee to remain on the Hill throughout Canada Day celebrations. Progress…
Not many people were eager to participate joyfully in the 150th milestone of colonialism while Indigenous people’s rights were still being ignored. Some downright boycotted it.
Personally, I avoided the crowded downtown Ottawa streets and observed celebrations from the comfort of my dry, humble home and watched online or through the various television broadcasts.
I consider myself a settler descendant. I accept no responsibility for atrocities committed in the past by governments and other institutions. I will accept the opportunity and responsibility to learn more about the issues and offer my voice in support.
You can learn background information through these resource links:
The United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples declares that indigenous people have a right to protect their sacred places. This must be done for the Sacred Falls and the Islands.
Thanks for dropping by and reading about this issue. Please share with family and friends.
I hope it won’t be necessary to join another walk and demonstration again next year. If it is, I will be there.
Did you like to run and play ball in your big backyard or in the park with other kids? Did you like to colour, to play in the dirt or puddles? Did you try to run away into the nearby forest but return home in time for dinner?
I think that the age range between 8 and 11 years old is one of innocence, adventure and discovery.
This deep thought has been brought to you by page 106 in a book of daily inspirations. I think it is a good reminder for ambitious, jaded adults.
Good advice: observe babies
…except for the part about pooping in your pants.
When I was ten, I enjoyed playing in big puddles, engineering canals and small towns. I enjoyed playing with Barbie dolls, playing school with my siblings and friends. I enjoyed drawing pictures. As I matured, I had dreams of creating greeting cards or children’s books.
I didn’t care about fashion or boys. I didn’t know our family was poor. I was oblivious to the inhumanity happening in our country, in our world.
I didn’t even know I was fat until it was pointed out by a friend’s older brother.
It’s been a long, cold, lonely winter. In my opinion, March came in like a soggy little lamb.Old Man Winter has since elbowed his way in and frosted up my windows again.
I am tired of wearing my bulky winter coat and big boots. It’s no fun while waiting for city buses that don’t show up on time.
I have aches in my body and my tender heart. I have no motivation to do morning stretches. I have to push myself to get on the buses in to the city. Some days I just want to stay home and putter.
I am tired of supporting flakey technology that doesn’t provide consistent results.
I feel inconvenienced. I used to like puzzles and technical challenges.
I feel like an old grump.
Je suis déçu!
On the other hand, I have been embracing my inner child, nurturing and encouraging that shy artist from my awkward adolescence. You can read more at the blog where the Tabby Cat rules.
Thanks for dropping by. Excuse me as I grumble, preparing to take the weekend buses in a quest for new stretchy pants and “stylish” Mom jeans. First world problems…
That question was recently asked by what could have been a younger, curious version of myself.
A few times each month, I spend three hours of bliss volunteering in a small bookshop.
I get to meet interesting people, stroke and skim through the latest items placed on the shelves. Not a month goes by without me purchasing something of interest to me or someone I love. I like the fact that sales revenues go towards purchasing new books and supporting programs for our local libraries. Being in that book shop is the closest I can get to working in a library – for now 🙂
My recent volunteer shift was graced by the usual lingering regulars and families attending events nearby. It warms my heart when children express delight as they find a book or two that they want their parents to buy.
One particular tot caught my attention while exploring books with her older sister, parents and grandmother. She approached the front desk, her blonde head barely above the counter, her blue eyes peering at me.
“What’s your name?” she asked in a sweet and barely audible voice.
I responded with a smile and asked about hers. Her Mother responded on her behalf due to the child’s limited conversation skills.
Then the child asked, “Why are you here?”
“Why am I here? Well… I like books, I like meeting new people and selling them books.”
Then she skittered away to explore the shelves with her family.
Soon she returned to ask again “Why are you here?”.
After I repeated my previous response I wanted to ask the wee thing if she was being philosophical about the big picture but I decided it would just confuse matters.
It was cute. It was thought-provoking in a naive kind of way.
I think that was a helpful experience for those basic queries we should ask ourselves often, like “Why am I here?”.
If we cannot answer the why, we could at least ask, “What am I doing during my time here?”.
