Archive for the ‘Life Reflections’ Category

Recently, I tagged along on a business trip with my husband to Waikiki, Hawaii. Before leaving I perused my bookcases to see what books would be appropriate for the four day vacation. What ended up coming with me were complete opposites on the literary spectrum. One was Seat Of The Soul by Gary Zukav, a very thought provoking book that explores our ability to move beyond the five senses. The second book was The Grass Is Always Greener Over The Septic Tank by Erma Bombeck, a hilarious read about moving the family from the city to suburbs.

At first, I was thinking Hawaii…palm trees…tropical breezes…the sound of ocean waves…becoming one with nature…ahhh, lets delve into the soul. However, after several attempts to center myself, I quickly learned this was no book to immerse myself in with all the loud people, construction, sirens, traffic and helicopters. Out comes Erma and her travels to the suburbs instead. Yes, that is just what I needed, a humorous look at life and a giggle or two between the pages.

I’m not a person who can read amidst any noise, I get easily distracted. It truly has to be the right setting for the right book, otherwise I’m re-reading the same chapter over and over again. I realized all the banter between Bombeck’s family and the emergence of characters eager to sell her a house, insurance and a whole host of things that come with suburban living, was the perfect insanity to accompany my visit to Waikiki. In fact, at times it appeared that some people around me could have been the characters I was reading about.

When I was in Kona, I read Joseph Campbell’s, The Power of Myth from cover to cover, but that was easy amongst the tranquility we had found ourselves in. Waikiki was far from tranquil. It is the hub of action, which is fine, if that is what you are searching for on your trip. Adapting reading to the setting is just something I have to do. Others, (maybe even like yourself) may feel quite comfortable to pick up any book and begin the journey into the authors world; I’m envious of that. I’ve always wished I could just read without being like a dog that has just seen a squirrel. ‘Concentrate Jennifer, concentrate!‘ Our relationship with our books is personal and it is about carving out the right space, time and genre to capture our attention.

What type of books do you take on your vacation? Is there any change depending on the location of your travel?

The Bay has launched its Mothers Day promotional guide full of “Every Thing She Loves” but noticeably absent from the pages was any mother over the age of 40. It was my own mother who brought this to my attention after she had thumbed through the pages, called me and said “Have you seen the latest Bay flyer for Mother’s Day?” I replied, “No.” She then began to explain to me that (with the exception of Jeanne Beker) there isn’t one picture of a woman her age or even a grandmother. She questioned “What? Aren’t we mothers too?

All the clothes were geared to young mothers who must have children and partners with very deep pockets. With emerald and diamonds jewelery well over $1000, most perfumes were over $100 and even lingerie being a trendy gift for Mother; a little card, flowers or dinner appears to be passe.  “You know I have always loved lingerie but I wouldn’t be expecting that for mothers day!” my mother said.

Let me tell you what this really meant to my mother, as she ages she become less and less relevant. She lives in a world full of age discrimination, erased from the consciousness of advertisers except if they are peddling medications or leak proof under-garments.  The Bay, a Canadian institution bought out some years back by a U.S company, has changed like so many things in her life and it is frustrating. Beyond her realization that this promotion failed to consider mothers of all ages was her observation that most of the featured products did not make sense as gifts for this special day and I tend to agree.

Is this really what mothers expect to receive? or Is this just another opportunity to exploit a day of respect and persuade us all to show our love through Coach, Michael Kors and Prada. You can bet it was the latter! Persuasion and exploitation go hand in hand in the world of advertising. Lines like “the Golden Rule: Treat Her” next to diamonds and gold, “There’s no Present like the time”  for Fossil watches and “Objects of Affection” to describe earrings and pearls, do we need to guess who their target buyer really is? No pressure for any child or partner intended, of course.

One day, it will probably happen as it has with my mother. I will be sitting in my chair and it will dawn on me… I no longer exist. I will recall when I turned heads and wore heals that were bad for my feet but great for attention. I will have to be more savvy with my shopping in order to find the clothes that stylishly suit my age. I will be surfing the television channels to find shows that use language I can understand and some representation of a woman over the age of 60. I will be flipping through a magazine or flyer searching for “Every thing I love” and finding it really hard to even find one product, article or picture that speaks to me. I’m not looking forward to that reality.

My mother still wears heels and other not so grandmotherly looking things. Though, she would never want her kids to buy her any of those items, (preferring instead to receive a beautiful card) she wouldn’t have minded having The Bay, and others like them, remember that she’s a mother too.

It is Spring 2012 and I’m still awaiting Candice Olson’s arrival in British Columbia. As readers of this blog know I’m a huge Candice Olson  fan; she is the only interior designer that I have ever followed. In some ways I’m surprised by my small obsession with her work, it isn’t like me to really become fixated on any one person’s expertise. However, there has yet to be a room design I haven’t liked and her shows really help viewers like me, understand not only the concepts but the challenges involved in renovations.  

The Candice Tells All show is in its second season and in between those new episodes I watch  repeats of past episodes.  I’m sure each of us can think of what we would love to do with our homes if we had the money, talent or a designer ready to take over the whole project. However, even with all those things intact it can still be overwhelming and time consuming. It is not easy to trust the vision of someone else but when you watch Candice with her clients you can tell they get her and she gets them. Fabulous show and for all the fans of her work let’s hope she continues to dazzle us with more shows in the future. 

” There are many types of ships. There are wooden ships, plastic ships and metal ships. But, the best and most important types of ships are friendships. “ (Irish quote)

I am one of the luckiest people I know – I have wonderful friends! How about you?

Would you say you were closest to your friends than family? Is your life partner your closest friend? Do you consider your sister, mother, father or brother your friend?

No matter who it is, we are all infinitely more happy and healthy if we cultivate and maintain friendships.

I can’t imagine my life without my friends; I truly think I would whither away without that connection.  Friends allow us to be who we are and do so without the expectation that we should or will change.  When I look to the many memories I hold near and dear to my heart almost always one or more of my friends is right there.

Like me, you probably gather together with your friend(s) from time to time and reminisce about those youthful, crazy years in which you each had more guts than brains. To this day, my friends and I get quite a laugh about our former antics and then announce halfway through the stories, “There must have been an angel looking out for us.”

Thankfully, we are not fixated on the past to the point of boring others around us but we can certainly spin a tale or two. We can gather with equally as much chatter about the rich lives we live now, but, what has changed is that for the most part we have more brains than guts.  As a result, we spend more time trying to convince each other about the merits of pushing beyond our comfort zone in careers, life and love.

Each of my friends are not necessarily friends with each other.  When we come together it is always good but it is not likely that they stay in close contact outside of that; I am the common link. Though, there are some commonalities, for the most part we are quite different. We are diverse in age, professions, family circumstances and even most interests…is that odd? We are also divided in our pet preferences dog people vs. cat people. (I’m on the dog side)

Each friend brings a special kind of love and wisdom to our relationship; their uniqueness is what draws me closer. My mother told me many times when I was a child, “you don’t want a rainy day friend,” these were the types of people who were only there when they had nothing better to do. I would certainly say I have grown up surrounded by friends that are there through the rainy, stormy and sunny days.

When you look at your own life take a moment to acknowledge those who hold that special title called FRIEND. 

How would you describe your friends?

What do they mean to you?

How do they contribute to your well being?

Remind them every once and awhile just how important their friendship is to you.

To my friends:

Je vous aime, mes chers amis ( Now, go look up the translation. We took French in school, remember?) 

Over the Easter weekend news broke that Nanaimo RCMP used a very creative tactic for harm reduction on the roads, catching drivers with cell phones, texting and no seat belts. Each violation was first observed by an officer in an Easter Bunny costume and then he would relay the information via radio to awaiting officers down the road.

They issued fifty-two tickets, one of which that morning was for drunk driving; that in itself should make it all worthwhile. I love this idea! I like the creativity involved to make our streets safer from those that refuse to abide by the laws. It is not entrapment since they are already committing a crime and really should we have any sympathy for those that may put each of us at risk by their stupidity.

I look forward to the next costume that is worn to capture any criminal or nuisance driver. It probably was a fun day at the office for those involved as the Sgt. stepped out of his uniform to become a happy, cuddly Easter Bunny.

Like Santa at Christmas, the Easter Bunny is all the rage with kids. For most children, there may not be an understanding of the religious significance of Easter but there sure is excitement over making coloured eggs, eating chocolate and the egg hunt. Like St. Nicholas, the Easter Bunny originated in Europe. Said to be part of  Alsace (France) tradition, the Easter Bunny’s persona and purpose has not changed over the years. With basket in hand and eggs to deliver it makes its rounds to children everywhere.

Our friends have a little girl who could not hold back her joy about the coming of the Easter bunny. In fact, that bunny was busy attending various parties over the weekend. She jumped up and down with the same exuberance that can be found at Christmas. One of her main concerns was making sure to be in bed early enough so that the Easter bunny would be able to come to her house. Her secondary thought was that “maybe we should leave out something for the bunny.” It was decided between us that carrots would be good with a side of grass.(my contribution may have created more work for her Mum; sorry about that)

Over the hours spent with this little child I remembered my own excitement with the Easter egg hunt and the huge chocolate rabbit that would arrive for edible pleasure. Of course, back then I had no concern about the face breakout or the stomach ache that would happen after my cocoa and sugar binge, now I do. The Easter egg hunts went on well into my thirties with my two sisters. It wasn’t pretty! There was always competition and certainly at least one injury. When I met my husband I remember inviting him for Easter dinner at my Mum’s house and tried to prepare him for the hunt. Needless to say, the wise man decided after watching grown women in egg hunting combat, that maybe he would forego the annual event.

Regardless of why or how we celebrate Easter, it can bring people together for family fun, food and smiles. I think even if the bunny is the main focus, he or she is brightening the spirits of many. In the end that imaginary bunny probably connects us to our joy-filled soul and certainly brings back the child in us all; if we let it.

I awoke with my own scream. It seemed so loud in my head that I wondered if my neighbours could hear. It wasn’t the first time I had awoke with such a jolt and I know it won’t be my last. Since as far back as I can remember I have had brilliant dreams nightly and nightmares that happen at least once a week. They are intense, vivid and often repeat. There is all manner of persons, places and scenarios that make up my journey into the mind. When I used to share some of my dreams, friends were surprised by my recall. When we discussed my nightmares people would joke “You could give Stephen King a run for his money.” For the record, I don’t read horror nor enjoy horror movies, so that can’t be a trigger for my nightmare predicament.

I dream in colour and can even smell things. I feel like I travel and even recognize areas as if I know them in real life but intellectually I know I have never been there. Other languages are spoken, music and songs written with full instruments, past, present, future situations even science fictional elements. It is a mixed bag, a depth of mind too complex and misunderstood. Sometimes it can be just plain exhausting, no, scratch that… it is not sometimes exhausting, it is plain exhausting!

Many years ago,  during a particularly bad bout of nightmares, I sought the help of a counsellor. I explained the graphic details and described physical reactions during and post dreams. Every thing was as clear to me as the night they occurred and so I was acutely aware they were having an impact on my waking hours. The counsellor taught me a few techniques, but, the one that was most valuable was how to pull myself out of a nightmare when it got too much. Previously, that had been difficult for me to do but after trying her strategy multiple times I got better at it.

There was a sense of power in that ability to release myself from the throws of action and dialogue. It was like ejecting from an spiraling airplane, I simply pulled the lever and left. Of course, that doesn’t mean I will be completely safe, as debris from the nightmare still circulates moments, sometimes even hours afterward. I guess, that is better than what might of been my fate had I stayed with the dreadful story unfolding in the dream. Then, there is the sense of guilt or shame attached with having such nightmares. A friend of mine once disclosed that same feeling after having a disturbing dream and I understood completely. The questions about “Why?” surface and “What does this say about me?” Of course, ultimately it is not a fault issue but somehow it is easy to question our own role than accept the normalcy of what appears completely abnormal.

I keep a dream book to post anything that appears to have some greater significance; at least I can revisit it later to try to interpret its meaning. I have conversations with people and the minute I wake up I think to myself, “Don’t forget that.” More often than not, I do forgot things people say, but obviously it wasn’t that important. At least I hope it wasn’t. Dreams and nightmares baffle me, I would like for once to go to sleep and completely not remember a thing that went on until I awoke the following morning. To this day, I have never experienced a night without action. My mind is active twenty-four seven, 365 days out of the year and I guess it will fade into silence on my last day on this earth. Though, maybe not? The next level of consciousness could be just as active…”Oh I just need some rest!”

Check this video out; one of my favourite songs!

 These Dreams

Let’s talk about something completely different…Reinvention and Rebellion. Two areas  I am very familiar with. Women are always reinventing themselves and for me, the reinvention usually comes when I have hit my limit of acceptance that this is all there is. Whether in relationships, career or attempting to reach higher enlightenment there always comes a time when I question and then stir things up a little. You might also have experienced moments in which you asked yourself “Is this serving me?” and after some soul searching promptly made for an exit in search of something a little different. Even if it is not of our own doing, change comes a calling. Just when you think you got it figured out…Wham! chaos ensues. This is the point in which I feel like I’m living in a giant snow globe and a hand has come out of nowhere to start shaking my life around. When the flakes settle I emerge stronger but slightly peed off that somebody messed with my sometimes neurotic but often orderly way of doing things.  Throw in the menopausal element in this and we now have the perfect storm.

Rebellion…Well, don’t we all have a story or two about resistance? I have to say I think I was born with that streak. Really! I honesty believe I came out of the womb saying, through my internal voice, “OK people, things are about to change because I have places to go, things to give, people to irritate and lots to talk about.” This was because I knew that I am way too sensitive to the energy of everything and everyone around me. Heck, I can’t even wear a watch because my own energy causes it to quit working very quickly.  Anybody need a watch? Even before there were words to express my inner knowing, I was aware our roots are deep and our connection to each other is powerful. Of course, that in turn meant that I kept running from sensory overload and felt compelled to express my discomfort with the status quo.   I will be honest though, there are some things in life that just wear me out and rebelling against them is actually damaging my health. Despite that, I know that everyday acts of rebellion are what makes me tick.

Adjusting to the changing seasons of life and knowing we will never read the final script that outlined our identity means it is always a fascinating and a very arduous journey.  I’m certain, that I will have regrets even if I wanted to believe I could evolve beyond. I know that as I hit the next phase, I will still forget about the wisdom that has been imparted by those greater than I and do things that will rock the boat. Losing track in these fast times is guaranteed, for me. But, many people have difficulty keeping up and so we are constantly reinventing more creative ways in which to learn. Each of us have hopes for what we might accomplish in this lifetime. My hope is that I leave this world with the intention I came in with, having made a difference, observed what I most needed to see, ruffled feathers that needed ruffling and said most, if not all, of what I came hear to say. If not, I will be back, having reinvented myself and fully prepared to re-assume my position of rebel with or without a cause.

As many music fans mourn the death of Whitney Houston, her family and friends gather to celebrate her life. Taken back to her roots and in her church she was remembered. Not as a singer belonging to the world but simply a girl who lived with both the power and vulnerability that comes with saying “Yes” to life.

Life is, as we all know, extremely complex. It holds more questions than answers and expects us to rise to the challenge. We are given amazing opportunities, most of which will fall to fear. Some, like Ms. Houston, possess great talent in their profession and face the fear head on. They are fueled by passion but immense pressure can surface and that can sometimes cause great pain. Often we are not truly prepared for what comes from our wishes or dreams. It can be intense and demanding and not at all what we thought it would be. The definition of happiness changes, love can become convoluted and it can be tough to make healthy decisions. When our world expands it is difficult to find familiarity in our surroundings, we drift aimlessly looking for a recognizable face or just somewhere to land.

The fact is, we don’t know Whitney Houston at all. We don’t need to know the dirty details of her death nor stand in judgement of her life because we have seen this time and time again. What has transpired is not unique and if we were honest many aspects of her experiences (as much as we know them to be) would most likely mirror our own.

We have all stood in front of the mirror and asked ourselves “Why?” We have been in the company of people who did more harm than good. We have traveled down a road that was dark in which we saw no light through the trees. We held on during the roller coaster of emotions and tried desperately to not repeat our mistakes. We strove toward supposed great things only to find they were not as magnificent up close. We reached goals, basked in self satisfaction and gave thanks where it was deserved. We have wanted to pull the blanket over our heads and found ways to dull our senses. We have risen up from the ground and put the pieces of our delicate life back together. We have prayed even when we didn’t believe and knelt down to hang our heads in shame. We all have recognized we were nothing as an individual but powerful as a partner or a community. We saw many examples that money will not buy us happiness; with homes full of things that were meaningless in the end. We’ve been surprised that in what we thought were our poorest times, we were drowning in the richness of love from those that mattered.

I greatly appreciated the voice of Whitney Houston but I will not profess to be a fan. I think it is always disingenuous to pretend that one was, as the hype climbs around a celebrities passing. What I have taken away from all the energy and talk that surrounds this person is that ultimately we are living in concert with each other. It is a masterful work in progress in which we all play our part and each of us are hanging on every note.

Why do I feel like its Monday all over again?

This was a drag myself out of bed day. I swear if I didn’t feel so guilty about not doing some form of work I would have rolled over after looking at the alarm clock and buried myself under the covers. I considered it, but then I went through a mental list of all the reasons why that would be a bad idea and coaxed myself down the stairs for tea and cereal. Then I proceeded to my home office to see if there was anything of significance that should be handled immediately. Thankfully there was not. I’m not entirely sure my brain would be primed for any more thinking; as I had already used precious power feeding myself.

The next step was to shower. The problem I have with showering on days of laziness is that somehow I have difficulty extricating myself from the darn thing. Hair  is washed, body scrubbed and then I stand there dreaming until I finally wake up and say to myself “You could stay in here all day, get out!” Really…I do have to say that to myself. The water sends me into some sort of trance and it doesn’t help that we have a large hot water tank otherwise I would leave as soon as the cold hits.

I can’t figure out how I got so far into this week without feeling inspired to do anything. I knew I was really off my game when I ate a cookie with raisins in it…sorry dear hubby,I know it was yours but I couldn’t resist. This is shocking in itself because I have hated raisins since I was a child. (Raisin trauma, lunch box incident, I won’t go into details) There I was, staring out at a rainy day, with a mug of hot water in one hand and my least favourite cookie in the other. Crazy! In a moment of clarity I realized the ridiculousness of the situation but by then the cookie was almost all gone.

My exercise regiment for the day consisted of hauling the vacuum cleaner up and down the stairs. I had to do something. Cleaning seemed productive but I have to say the novelty of doing manual labour quickly wore off. So, here I sit back at the computer trying to reflect on one of the strangest days yet. The only highlight was when I made a call to a dear friend to share how “blah” I was feeling. She was so understanding and helpful…of course…she was in bed with her laptop. Funny how that goes.