My Sweet Spot Is The Bees Knees
September 10, 2012 § Leave a comment
He’s found his sweet spot… and so have I!
Every sunny moment, almost without fail, when I look out my front window, there’s a rabbit snuggled up in the same lump of grass next to the sidewalk. He’ll spend hours there, basking in the glow of the morning or the evening sun. I hadn’t thought much about him until one day my roommate commented, “Did you notice he sits in the exact same spot every time? It’s like he’s made the perfect groove in the ground to fit his little bunny body.”
And so he has. He was there again this afternoon when I got home. Cuddled up and catching the last few rays of the waning summer sunlight. I headed out onto the front porch to watch him a little while longer. As I stepped onto the stoop, he tensed a little, but he wasn’t running from his treasured dip in the ground unless he absolutely had too. Not wanting to disturb his September afternoon rest, I quietly headed back inside and contemplated him further from the front window.
I then decided he had picked a pretty sweet spot to make himself at home. Besides the obvious, a house with two of the world’s best roommates, it really was a nearly ideal groove in the ground – he fit so perfectly. I wonder how many other spots he’s crouched in before he found this one? I’m honoured that it’s our house he’s chosen for his perch because I’ve made it mine too and I’ve got to say, it’s the bees knees.
How important is it that we each carve out our own little space in the world? Our own niche, own hideaway? Whether it’s somewhere fully exposed or tucked way back from prying eyes, everyone and everything needs a place where they feel at home. A place they can come back to and feel safe from the roar and rustle of the outside world.
With shifting family dynamics, jobs and even my own inner self over the last five to eight years, it’s taken me quite some time to find a haven I’m comfortable curling up in again. But I think I’ve finally found it. A place in time I’d like to stop and enjoy for more than a passing moment or two. I did a faery card reading last night, and one of the cards I pulled up was called The Guardian at the Gate. It stands for “passages to new life. Openings. Gatekeeping.” And the meaning behind the card:
“We are embarking on a new phase of our lives, and there will be no going back once this gate has been passed. That is the kind of transition the Guardian at the Gate leads us to – always to irrevocable change.”
I can’t help but think having my own two legs to stand on, firmly rooted in my own sweet spot, is what’s helped me be ready for whatever this next phase is. I’ve felt it coming for a long time now, I just didn’t know when it would hit. But here we are, maybe one or two more corners to round… and my next chapter shall begin.
The Easiest Lessons Are Often the Hardest Ones to Learn
April 9, 2012 § 1 Comment
Reading glasses (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I love it when my brain is able to process things for me and still let me get a good night’s sleep. Like it did on Saturday. I woke up well rested, but also with a big “A-ha!” on my mind. In this particular moment of clarity, I saw an obvious obstacle. It must’ve been in a blind spot. I’m glad I’m learning to change and evaluate different perspectives, because now it’s staring me directly in the face.
What I’ve always known on some level, is that the way to success in any endeavor is to come at it from a space where we’re 100% genuine, authentic and ourselves. In terms of work and my career, I’ve never had any problems doing this. Thus, I’ve never really had any problems in the workplace. Most of the time, I get what I want, although it’s not always when I want it. And if I’m not getting it, I’ve got the ovaries to say something about it or stick my neck out and seek it elsewhere.
Where I run into the most difficulty is in primary relationships. I get stuck on what I think a “girlfriend” or a “wife” type is supposed to be. I put on my happy face and play the polite, nice girl from a small town that everyone’s parents would find delightful. And though those are certainly elements of my personality, I don’t allow the rest to shine on through with them. And yet, over and over, in each given situation, I would start off being myself, but the more I’d get into the relationship, the more I would play the role, and the quicker things deteriorated.
Somewhere in my logical mind, I’ve of course always known this one. I would have had to in order to have that kind of approach in my work life. It surprises me that I wasn’t able to make the connection before between my behaviour in either situation and the results I was seeing (or perhaps it was more that I hadn’t attributed this point as the direct cause of my success or lack thereof before). But alas, it’s always those things that are right in front of us that we often have the most trouble acknowledging.
A conversation I had with my friend Dave later on in the weekend regarding relationships spurred the topic of censorship. How much of ourselves do we censor in order to be the kind of person we think our other half wants to be involved with versus just being ourselves? Each of us had numerous examples of couples in our lives that we considered to be censoring dreams, attitudes, beliefs – any number of things really – for the greater good of the relationship. We also each had a much more limited quantity of examples of couples we felt had attracted their ideal mate and just worked because both parties were coming from a space of complete authenticity.
My biggest challenge now is changing the behaviour. I’ve been playing the role for so long, it’s going to take me awhile to reprogram things, undue the habits I formed long ago. But they aren’t providing the results I desire, so why continue to repeat them?
As I think about all of the steps involved, it seems like I have a relatively large task at hand. Yet, I’m reminded of an example I once read in the book by Chip and Dan Heath, Switch: How to Change When Change is Hard.
My loose rendition of the example is as follows… Essentially, there was this doctor researcher type who was supposed to head over to a developing nation and attempt to solve some of the hunger problems. He was to have a couple of years to complete the research. Unfortunately, a change in government showed up on the horizon and his contacts warned him that his time frame had just shortened to about six months. They couldn’t guarantee that they’d still be around if and when a new government took power. Six months were not enough time to understand all of the factors at play, yet him and his team decided to go in anyway. Instead of trying to identify all of the complexities of the problem, they would look for what the book calls the “bright spots.” In this particular example, the bright spots were any children in the villages that were above average health in their communities. Outliers, if you will. They surveyed families from a variety of nearby villages and found that most families fed their children rice, but the families that also mixed in a local plant had healthier children. The plant was viewed by most as something only lower class families would use, but was providing much-needed nutrients to the children that were consuming it. The researchers then encouraged all mothers to mix in the plant. A decade or so later, the average height and weight of children in the same area had risen considerably. The lesson here? Identifying all of the factors in a problem can waste valuable time. Looking for consistent examples of a preferred situation and discovering what’s being done differently in those examples can bring a simple solution to a large problem.
So, transferring over the mindset of work Wendy versus relationship Wendy is as simple as speaking my mind and going after everything I want in any given situation. If I give no regard to any “considerations” I might come up with to delay progress, I shouldn’t actually experience any delays in progress.
Wish me luck! Let’s see how this goes.
Let Me Eat Cake.
March 26, 2012 § 6 Comments
A birthday cake (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Today is the first day of the rest of my life. Alright, you could argue that every day is that. But there’s only one day that’s the first day of my 30s. And that day is today.
Plenty of folks have asked me if I’m nervous about turning 30. I’ll admit, I had a minor meltdown yesterday, my last day in my 20s, in the San Francisco airport waiting to come home. “Mini” meaning it lasted all of about 30 seconds before I stopped myself and made me name 10 things I was really sad about. After the second one it was already sounding more than a little ridiculous.
Saturday night, I was watching Fast & Furious in my hotel room. There’s a line where his yumminess, Paul Walker, is talking about Vin Diesel’s character, Donovan, to his character’s sister (Vin’s, not Paul’s). It was something to the effect of, “If there’s one thing I’ve learned from your brother, it’s that nothing really matters unless you have a code.” And so, I’ve come up with a few rules to live by of my own for this next decade of my life:
- The older I get, the less likely it is I’ll know what I’m doing. So I might as well just go for it anyway.
- The more I aim for perfection, the less likely it is that I’m going to succeed, so I might as well just go for it anyway.
- Tomorrow is not guaranteed, nor is it known. So I might as well just go for it today.
- The more I give myself what I want, the more I want others to also have more of what they want. So… I might as well just go for more of what I want today.
I see a pattern emerging. And with that… wish me luck! Time to go for it all anyway!
What exactly is it I’m going for? Well… everything. You’ll see!
Encounters of the homeless kind
November 7, 2011 § 2 Comments
Image via Wikipedia
Over the summer I spent some time with someone who lived on the streets for a few months of his youth. Talk about time spent expanding my comfort zone. That experience challenged me to look at the streets of Calgary in a new way, and at the people who currently occupy them, from people in suits walking to work to people pushing shopping carts from one dumpster to the next.
It’s true that we’re afraid of the things we don’t understand. I don’t understand the world of the homeless, and admittedly, on the whole, it frightens me. I have a hard time even beginning to wrap my head around how they got there and why they’re choosing to stay there (there’s an entire other argument to be made, I’m sure, on whether or not it’s a choice).
Today I met one of the nicest, most friendly people I’ve ever met on the streets of Calgary. Yes, on the streets–that is, after all, where he lives. Well, technically he calls a city park home.
I’ve spoken with him before. Last time he was telling me about how lucky he felt because someone thought to drop off a new blanket for him. I didn’t think to ask him his name at the time. Just politely conversed in return while I finished transferring my recyclables from my car to the large green bins. I remember him also saying how he had found a radio. The music was playing from somewhere nearby where I imagine he had found an outlet to power it. When I was done, he bade me good day and off I went without another thought to this man by the recycling bins.
I was out for lunch at Local 510 one day over the summer with some colleagues. We were eating on the patio and this guy walked up to our table and asked us for some money. He was near tears and told us he had HIV and that his parents had kicked him out onto the street. He was trying to raise enough money to find shelter. Skeptically, we all fished out some money for him. After he left, one colleague leaned in and said “I’m pretty sure I recognize that guy. He hangs out around 17th Ave a lot.” Is his story true? Who knows. Maybe parts of it are.
There’s also the guy who sits on a crate downtown day in and day out. I’ve passed him several times, but I’ve never stopped. The last time I walked by him, I spotted a loaf of bread tucked under his crate. Is that what this man eats every day? Where does he come from? Where does he go at nightfall? And why does he do nothing more than sit on that crate? Only in my last couple of trips by him did I make eye contact and smile. Why was that such a hard thing for me to do?
Today, I was back at the recycling bins. As I opened the door to my car, I heard a radio playing. I stepped out and saw someone rummaging around the bins like last time.
As I approached with my recycling he turned around and said “Hello! How’s your day going?”
“Fantastically! Thank you. How is yours?” I replied.
“Oh, I’m having the most amazing day! I slept until 2:10 this afternoon.”
“Really? That must’ve felt nice! I haven’t been able to sleep that long into the day in quite some time.”
“I don’t usually get that much sleep either. This was the first time in five years I’ve slept that long! And man did it ever feel great!”
And so on we conversed while I finished unloading my car. Another fabulous thing about his day was that one of the garbage men had given him a garbage picker. It was a metal rod with prongs attached to the end and a handle he could squeeze to bring the prongs together. He even did a demonstration of it for me, picking up bottle caps, bottles and bits of paper from the ground. Works wonders for reaching inside the bins too.
It was at this point that he paused long enough for me to ask him an important question.
“What’s your name?”
He looked up and said “My name’s Bart.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Bart. I’m Wendy.”
He smiled and kept talking. I learned that the park is his home. He takes great pride in keeping it clean. “You won’t find any garbage around here, no sir! I make sure I pick up every last bit of paper to keep the area looking clean. I hate dirty things. It’s not like the recycling centre over by the grocery store. That one’s a mess! People put stuff everywhere,” he paused. “Well, actually, it’s not the people bringing the recycling in. It’s all the pickers. They just don’t care. But me? I care.”
Last summer I went to find a geocache with another friend of mine. The one we picked to search out was in this very park. As we explored the shrubbery along the backs of the houses, I remembered seeing a sleeping bag up in a tree. I wondered now if it belonged to this gentleman.
After a spell, he said, “Well, you’ve probably got other places to be. I’ll let you go. Have a nice day!”
I got into my car, drove home, and haven’t stopped thinking about the whole encounter all evening.
I can’t get it out of my head just how happy he was to have a tool that made his job easier and how proud he was to be keeping the park clean. As I was pulling away, another man drove up to bring in his recycling and Bart started up again and asked “Hello! How’s your day going?” All with the same warmth and another big smile.
*Names used in this post are fictional… well, except mine.
The Retirement of Excellence
October 17, 2011 § 6 Comments
I was once moved and inspired by the excellence statement that circulated through ATCO from RD Southern, the company’s chairman. It goes a little something like this:
Excellence…
“Going far beyond the call of duty.
Doing more than others expect.
This is what excellence is all about.
It comes from striving, maintaining
the highest standards, looking after the
smallest detail and going that extra mile.
Excellence means caring. It means
making a special effort to do more.”
I left ATCO nearly a year ago, and the spirit behind this quote sticks with me. But, I heard someone else recently talking about a commitment to excellence. And I couldn’t help but feel the term is losing its significance. If you remember way back when David and I started this blog, we were talking about the meaning of words and which ones to ban from our vocabularies. I am hereby banning the word “excellence” from my vocabulary. Instead, well, instead.. I’m just going to be awesome.
Blasphemous! I know. Here’s the thing. Excellence to me has come to mean perfection and perfection is unattainable on a large scale. The perfect mix of life’s ingredients for me is not the ideal mix for you. It’s just not applicable when it comes to a larger picture.
Awesomeness, on the other hand… well, now we’re getting somewhere. Awesomeness isn’t stodgy, it’s more fluid. And it’s a word I use all too often. But it rings true with me, and it’s the first word out of my mouth when I thoroughly enjoyed something. Speaking of enjoyment, there’s another key word. Excellence is a measurement. Awesomeness is an experience. We’re not looking for the destination anymore, we want to LIVE every part of the journey.
Life is nothing more than the sum of our experiences… and at the end of mine, I’d like to look back with a smile and think “Holy shit, that was AWESOME!”
If I may:
Awesomeness…
Living life beyond the mundane of the everyday
Doing everything you can to stretch your comfort zone.
This is what awesomeness is all about.
It comes from an open mind, and open heart, maintaining
The highest commitment to self and to community and family,
Looking upon every day as a new adventure and thinking the stars are within reach.
Awesomeness means living for today. It means
Being with those you love, doing what makes you happy
And approaching everything not only with a commitment to service and quality,
But with a desire for joy, fun and life.
Live long, be well, be loved.
The Blended Family
August 29, 2011 § 9 Comments
As of 2001, there were more than half a million stepfamilies in Canada*. If you ever would’ve told me I’d find myself as part of one, I never would’ve believed you. I had a mom, a dad and a brother. For all intents and purposes, our family seemed like every other. We ate dinner together, spent family holidays travelling between one set of grandparents or another, my mom or dad would drive us to our various sporting events and activities. Nobody fought (except for Wayne and I, but it’s what siblings are supposed to do!) No one seemed unhappy.
I remember driving home for Thanksgiving in my second year of university with my mom. On the way home she said she had something to tell me. “Your father and I are separated,” she disclosed. “But he’ll be there for Thanksgiving dinner.” Separated? The word rung loudly in my ears the rest of the way home. What? Why? How?
To find myself, at 19, facing parents who were separated, who might potentially get a divorce, seemed ludicrous. My brother and I were no longer at home, which meant they’d already made it through the hard stuff, right?
I won’t pretend to understand the ins and outs of a marriage, I’ve never been in one after all. Nor will I attempt to dissect the various elements that may or may not have led to their separation. That’s not my role in this story. Nono, my role is the one of the daughter. The one who lost her only brother seven some odd years ago and somewhere along the line found herself with six stepbrothers and stepsisters. Yes, six! Let’s not forget the four stepnieces and one stepnephew. A little overwhelming perhaps? Potentially.
Not long after my parents split up, I remember heading to a party with Wayne. On the way there, he turned to me and asked:
“Did Mom and Dad splitting up surprise you?”
“No,” I replied, “I kind of saw it coming.”
“It sure surprised me.”
That’s the only bit of conversation him and I ever had on the subject. Wayne was about 4 years ahead of me in school, you see. And so he hadn’t been at home in the end. Not that anything bad had happened during that time, but after a bit of reflection, it was obvious to me that my parents had drifted apart long ago. Wayne wasn’t home for that part. No wonder it caught him by surprise.
Fast forward to 2004, I’m pretty sure both of my parents had started dating their current partners by then. Neither of their partners got to meet Wayne, which is unfortunate. It’s an opportunity I wish everyone could’ve had. Though sometimes bull-headed, and frankly, a bit of a jerk at times, I think all of y’all would’ve really enjoyed him. Damn was he funny. But, this post isn’t about him, no, in this post he’s merely a part of a larger story.
It’s hard to put into words the turmoil of emotions I felt from that point and into the coming years. The relationships each of my parents were in continued to evolve. I met the children of each partner. I played along, met the new stepsiblings and hung out with them on special occasions, like Christmas. They were nice. But it’s hard to get to know new siblings as a young adult. Especially when I couldn’t help but feel like I’d be forgetting my real sibling if I let the others in too much.
Over the last couple of years, I’ve bonded with my stepsister and one of my stepbrothers on my mom’s side. My stepbrother has even come house boating with my cousins and I the last couple of summers. He’s also doing a decent job of stepping up as a big brother, complete with the harassment I’ve been missing! My two “wicked” stepsisters on my dad’s side, well, they’re both married with kids and in a phase of life I’m still not in. It’s a bit harder to relate to them. But they’re a fun pair and it’s difficult not to enjoy myself around them.
Throughout it all, I’ve felt like the only person not quite ready to move on. My family had been split apart and I had lost the only person who would’ve possibly known what it was all like. The only one who would’ve still been with me in the other family, the one that fell apart. For a long time, I felt like I didn’t have a place. I was on the outskirts of both sides, but not a true member of either. My best friend and her family, and my cousins back in Saskatchewan became the consistencies I clung to for stability while the rest of my world shifted and tilted around me. For even a grown up child needs stability somewhere in her life when what she’s always known is in a gargantuan state of flux.
A few weeks ago, my dad and my stepmom made things official by tying the knot. At the wedding, I stood up for my dad and my stepmom’s two girls stood up for her. If you were watching me closely during the ceremony, you’d have seen a great many tears in my eyes. But they were a mixture of emotion. Emotion in memory of the sibling that was missing, the one that was a stranger to this new family, but also a strong sense of belonging. There was a new family being formed, and just like my two stepsisters, I’ve got an equal part to play.
After the wedding, one of my stepsisters came over and said that one of my stepnieces had whispered to her as she looked carefully around the room: “Mommy, I know who my new Auntie is… it’s Wendy.” Nieces and nephews? I never thought I’d have any. Now there are five of them. And one of them already thought to call me Auntie. It’s a weird feeling… yet a wonderful one.
My dad’s speech at the wedding was short. He may have uttered 3 or 4 words more than this, but in essence, he said, “Thank you for making this easy.” I think the fact that it was a very gradual transition, that they’d both raised some pretty wonderful kids (am I right?), and that him and my stepmom are just so gosh darned happy are what made it easy.
As the days have ticked past since the wedding, it’s been settling in on me just how permanent this new family is. It’s legal. It’s binding. My signature is on the marriage license as a witness to prove it. I experienced the creation of a new family, my new family. That might just mean it’s okay to open my heart and my life to these new people. It’s okay to move past the family and the brother that were, because it and him are still a part of me. And now, there are that many more people to love me, and me them.
Rediscovery my purpose… by accident.
August 15, 2011 § 4 Comments
If there’s anything that life likes to do, it’s get increasingly busier. Sooner or later, we each wake up and think, “How did I get here?” That is, if we wake up to that fact at all. Although a busy life is not something I think any of us can avoid, it is possible to keep your ear to the ground and eye on the road to know when you’re swerving off track. Just like driving, it requires focus and attention when you’re behind the wheel. If you’ve got too many things going at once, you might find yourself in a heap on the side of the road sooner than you think.
I’m by no means crashing into a ditch, but I’ve felt myself slowly being pulled off course. In fact, I think I turned down a side road and lost my way for a while. I’ve been off on a different sort of adventure and the sounds of the main highway, that is, the road I had first set out on with a purpose in mind, were drawing more distant every day. I vaguely remembered what it once was, but was losing touch with that part of me. I’ve been wanting to make my way back, to remember what exactly I was after in the first place, but I didn’t know the way. At least not until, like a loud horn and beacon blazing through a thick fog, I was given a connection back to that place… and hence, a direction to head in.
I was reminded today of an experimental status I did on Facebook one day last year. I used my status as a cancer fundraiser. Except instead of trying to get my network to support me, I asked them for their stories. In exchange for every story shared, I donated $2 to cancer research. The experiment was successful in my books. I had nearly 40 stories shared, and 4 other friends who stepped up to match my pledge. In total we raised close to $500… yep, you read that right. $500 from a Facebook status update.
About 10 months ago, I left my employ with ATCO and started a new adventure with Yelp, a business reviews website out of San Francisco. With this new challenge came a lot less available time for me to keep up many of the online activities I had been doing in my spare time. This, unfortunately, has included blog posts on The Muse and Views. Today, however, I was reminded of why I started the blog with David in the first place. My whole reason for blogging was partially that of healing, inspiring and sharing my ideas and thoughts, and partially in hopes of inspiring and helping others with my posts. I’m not sure when exactly I lost sight of that purpose, but I did. And because I did, it’s made trying to keep up the blog and the new job next to impossible.
What’s so special about today? Well, through a sponsorship we’re doing with Light The Night across Canada, my Facebook status experiment and how well it had worked was at the forefront of my mind. I wanted a way to engage Calgary’s Yelp Community the same way I had engaged my own personal network all those months ago. I recognized my knack for using communication tools in ways many don’t think of at first. It comes so naturally, it’s a part of who I am.
This was the beacon lighting my way back. That connection into myself that I won’t otherwise find. As much as I wish this blog were for you, it’s really, first and foremost, for me. And, with David’s reminder not to waste our talents, I’m making my way back.
Who’s your A-team?
December 20, 2010 § 3 Comments
Image via Wikipedia
Every big company has a board of directors to give it direction. Companies are selective about who is on the board and the qualifications they have for being there. The day-to-day operations are left to the employees, but the big decisions can’t be made without input and approval from the board. This can sometimes seem like a long and cumbersome process, but the board is there to ensure the long-term success of the company.
What difference would it make in our own lives if we consciously chose our own board of directors? What positions would you have available and who would you choose to fill them?
Unlike a formal board, each of us can create our own unique combination of roles for personal governance to complement our strengths and weaknesses. You retain ultimate veto power over the board’s decisions. That being said, you also have complete control over who has the authority to give you advice you’ll trust.
My own board of directors would have the following positions:
Chair – The Chair is the one responsible for all decisions made at the end of the day. This position requires the utmost faith, confidence and trust in the person’s ability to lead and make the right choice for your overall success. Ideally, the Chair is you.
Director, Grounding & Good Sense – The primary function of the Director, Grounding & Good Sense is to call your bullshit and keep you on track. He/she knows when you’re making excuses and isn’t afraid to give you the kick in the butt you need to set you back on the road to success. It’s this person’s advice you seek at the beginning of an idea to help you outline a path and the obstacles you may face.
Director, Dreams & Unlimited Potential – This position is here to keep you afloat in those times when ‘reality’ has taken a bite out of your confidence. This person already knows you can do what you set out to do, and reminds you of this when you aren’t so sure. Consultation should happen with this Director when a creative solution is required for a problem or when you’ve heard the word ‘can’t’ one too many times.
Director, Slack – Sometimes you’ve been working towards something for so long and so hard that you just need somebody to cut you some slack. Everyone else is pushing and supporting you, you can’t let go of your goals and you’re striving for the stars, but it’s one of those moments when you’ve got a lot of balls in the air and your arms are getting really, really tired. This person will either step in to take over while your arms rest, or help you lighten the load for a while… ie cut you some slack. It is wise to seek counsel with this Director before you qualify as ‘burnt out’, but often times this happens post burn out.
Director, Special Projects – The role of this position is one of those ‘other duties as required’ kind of things. It’s for that person who just seems to be a great go-to person in all kinds of situations when the skills of the other members of the board just don’t seem to fit.
The board doesn’t necessarily need 5 different people to fill each role. Maybe it’s just one other person, or maybe you have multiple people who play this part for you in different situations. But identifying those ‘go-to’ people in your life helps you recognize your own strengths and weaknesses and those of your closest network of people.
Have you ever thought about your board of directors? What positions would you have and who would fill them?
In the pursuit of happiness…
December 7, 2010 § 4 Comments
Image via Wikipedia
Happiness is the one thing we all want and the one thing many of us spend much of our time trying to find. We make changes to ourselves, our relationships and our surroundings in the hope that these will unlock more of that magical place that we sometimes get to experience in a moment here, and another there. A haircut, a new pair of shoes, rearranging the living room furniture, changing jobs, even changing friends or partners. Though hard decisions to make sometimes, these are nothing more than our attempts–no matter how graceful or clumsy–at fulfilling ourselves the best way we know how to (or don’t).
I’ve spent the past few weeks reflecting on the rest of this year. I’d have to say 2010 has been one of my biggest years. And in it, I’ve found my space in which to be happy. That hasn’t come without its trials and tribulations. I didn’t find my spot without some people coming into my life, others leaving it and some sticking around for the whole adventure. I also never would have found it if I hadn’t been willing to work through the bits that kept me tethered with equal gusto to the parts that helped me fly.
I’ve discovered that long-term happiness isn’t found in a moment, but is made up of our friends, family, coworkers and experiences. It’s a continual state of being that we only recognize when we have the other end of the spectrum to compare it to.
Often, we create our own roadblocks when we lack the openness and confidence to climb as high as we may have fallen. But the ups and the downs are what give us a foundation to connect with one another on. It’s those ups and downs that help us grow, and give us a richness and depth to life that we cannot get elsewhere.
So really, happiness is not something we find, but something we experience. It has as much to do with what happens within us as it does with what happens around us. And so, the responsibility of our happiness falls on no-one’s shoulders but our own. The question then is: Are you happy? And if you aren’t, what are you doing about it?
A quick thanks for traditions
October 12, 2010 § 3 Comments
Image via Wikipedia
They say that if you repeat something for three consecutive years, it qualifies as a tradition.
My Aunt Verna reminded me this year that it was my seventh consecutive Thanksgiving with them since 2004. I think that more than qualifies my visits out near Swift Current, Saskatchewan as tradition.
For a while now I’ve been trying to find my place in an ever shifting family scene. Wherever I can find a constant, I cling to it. As it turns out, Thanksgiving with my dad’s family is a big one.
No major holiday is ever complete without a full spread of food. From salads, to the main course, and then onto desserts, a Peters’ table is always full and a Peters’ stomach often left bursting at the seams. Thanksgiving is no exception. A turkey big enough to feed a dozen or more people and still leave leftovers, followed up with ham, mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy, carrots, at least five different kinds of salads and finished with six different kinds of pies (chocolate, banana cream, pumpkin, coconut, apple and lemon meringue), yes sir, nobody at that table leaves hungry.
We always spend a large part of Saturday preparing all of the food for Sunday’s big dinner. Vegetables are chopped, salads are made, fresh buns make their way out of the oven.
Saturday evening, my cousins and I spend making turkey hats. We started out with just newspaper hats that we painted one year and called Thanksgiving Hats. We’re now on our fifth generation hat and each year we expand on the concept. One year we even had real feathers.
A large part of the weekend is also dedicated to kittens. Being that we’re out in the country, there are a few farm cats around and there are always at least a few kittens for us to track down and play with. It’s a wonder I haven’t come home with any yet.
When Monday morning rolls around and it’s time to think about heading home, I get in line with my cousins for a share in the leftovers first. We take turns dishing out what’s left of the food into containers to feed us in the coming days. I even bring my own tupperware.
Tradition gives us something to anchor ourselves to, and another piece of life that we can begin to identify with. For that, and for the people who are a part of my traditions, I am thankful. Because each piece becomes a building block in my life, both to build from and to build toward.
What traditions do you look forward to? And how do they help shape your life?
The Muse and Views 