Daniela Ginta, Freelance Writer

Gratitude makes the journey better and so does kindness

Month: October 2017

Learning To Be A Leftie; With Gratitude

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On October 26, 2017

In Armchair Mayor Column, Learning, Life Stories, Motherhood, Self-improvement

Part of the definition of humbled comes from having one’s body part fail in some way. It’s a swift and powerful reminder of how fragile the balance is after all, and how easily forgotten our limitations are. When I say limitations, I do not mean we’re fragile by design and thus doomed, but that the tissues that form our bodies are, after all, no matter how many miles you run, swim or cycle in a day, breakable. Knowing that adds beautiful dimensions to life, doesn’t it, just as much as it adds that inescapable feeling of doom. Do not give into it though, that’s not what this is about.

More humbling yet is that the occasional painful reminder inserts itself mysteriously into your daily routine and there’s not telling where it came from or when it will end. There’s also a silly resemblance to a mouse you’d hold by its tail, if you will, though no tails are needed to paint this picture. You’re the mouse. It’s the nagging discomfort that holds you upside down until you figure out how to reposition yourself upright with grace and dignity; or at least one of them.

I am learning how to be a leftie these days, for two weeks ago a tendon in my right hand decided to travel away from its well-designed groove (or what seemed to be well-designed up to this point anyway) and over the knuckle it went, leaving an empty space behind and lots of questions in my mind as to why the sudden change. Mystery is the salt of life? Perhaps. Less funny when you’re it. Acceptance, they say, is what carries you to where the said grace and dignity reside.

Past the annoyance of pain and inability to carry on with the usual activities using my trusted right hand (I trust them both, but I have obviously favourited my right one so far), there is a side of me that is fascinated with the current limitations. As I walk around protecting my right hand from further injury, I am humbled by the realization that the rest of me works just fine and that that is a level of wonder many of us have come to acknowledge as an ordinary state of affairs as we go about our day. I’d say we ought to declare that a sin of some sort.

Would it be too much to say we take ourselves for granted? Never before has more research poured out our way, laying as thick as can be the knowledge that should keep us working in good order for the rest of our lives: eat healthy instead of pretending to or finding lame excuses to binge such as ‘you only live once’, sleep enough (despite of the lifeless blue-bad-for-you-light gadgets promising the world which by the way, they’ll never deliver but we take our chances anyway), get up and move around so our veins don’t turn stiff too soon; you get the idea.

The thing is, for the most part, we go about our days treating our bodies with a certain degree of recklessness, fully unaware of the wonders they carry within. On the days when a Facebook post reminds us poetically that we are but stardust, we throw a longer gaze at our sun-kissed forearms or spend a few extra minutes looking at our reflection in the mirror, wondering how it is that atoms linked together become vision, taste, or awareness of the sudden flutter of a moth we startled as we walked by and brushed against the curtains.

So here’s to wishing that my days spent as a leftie (that will be a few weeks, I am told) will leave me with an extra helping of gratitude for being able to clench my fists whenever I need to (in the near future), or sew a button on my oldest son’s shirt, or paint, chop onions and carrots, make apple sauce, and throw some dice when the days end with playing a board game, which I am hoping they will. Simplicity. Taking sips from the half-full glass and trusting that it’ll never run empty.

It’s the simple things that carry the biggest reminders; perhaps because as we go through life we realize that there is no big story waiting to happen that will help us unlock gratitude. The secret lies with the small, simple events that we spin into long threads, day after day, which then we make into tapestries, knots showing, because that’s what this story is all about. Some times are knottier than others. Be it so, keeping it real is what we’re here for. To wish for no bigger blessing than to be able to remember all of this I go along, no matter if my hands are available to help me do so, that is what I am hoping the days spent as a leftie will leave behind.

The Many Sides Of A Perpetuating Story

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On October 26, 2017

In Armchair Mayor Column, Kamloops, Learning, Life Stories, Self-improvement, Social issues

Originally published as a column on CFJC Today Kamloops and Armchair Mayor News on October 23, 2017. 

If you are even somewhat present in social media, you have likely come across the hashtag campaign #MeToo, spurred by the recent accusations of sexual harassment and assault against famous movie producer Harvey Weinstein. A lot of women came forward to tell their own stories of encountering the media mogul and, headline after headline, the ugliness kept flowing. It has also spilled in Canada, with the recent sexual allegations against the Just for Laughs founder, Gilbert Rozon.

These are not cases of entertainment industry sensationalism; sexual harassment happens around us and victims are most often left to address it alone, ashamed, and fearful of speaking up. The campaign drew many of us into the conversation about sexual harassment, and the trauma it inflicts. Trouble is, life is one fast flowing river and the momentum becomes yesterday’s news, though the impact was real and palpable at the time. Blame it on information overload, but let’s not leave it at that.

Exiting this one story too soon carries serious consequences. The story of sexual harassment is one that surfaces occasionally and when it does it triggers painful memories for those who suffered through it. It is fair to remark that sexual harassment does not only happen to women, though three times as many women are affected compared to the number of men.

Male-dominated professions are often the environment where these stories surface, but that is not the only place where they happen. While the argument about whether a woman can do a man’s job is what many bring forth as an explanation for the unwanted attention women get in certain workplaces, assessing one’s abilities should be based on whether they can perform the said task or not, rather than become grounds for sexual harassment.

If we care not to look sideways when a story of sexual harassment happens, we have the chance to rewrite and redesign societal norms that have been endorsing victim-blaming while often allowing the aggressor to find escape routes from prosecution, allowing the dust of forgetfulness to settle for mostly everyone except for those who suffered through it. To be fair, we have come a long way already, but we have a good length to go still until everyone, female or male, can be safe from sexual harassment no matter their job or life circumstances.

Another side of this ugly reality of everyday life is the presence of bystanders. Often conditioned by fear of losing a job, or angering a powerful person, bystanders add one more layer of wrongness to the process, their lack of proper and rightful action ultimately taking away the victim’s right to justice and further access to resources that can prevent long-term trauma.

The heartbreaking story of Amanda Todd, the 15-year-old girl from Port Coquitlam who committed suicide five years ago on October 10, after being severely and relentlessly sexually harassed online is still haunting me and many others. Immediately prior to her death, and many times before that, she tried to speak up and make her pain visible to others. Unfortunately, that did not happen soon enough, though many were aware of her story.

This is a pervasive and shameful societal sin, if you will, the isolation of the victim through the silence of by-standers or, even worse, the blaming of the victim by joining the chorus that mercilessly sings the most wrong tune of all: ‘She must’ve done something to provoke it…’

Most of us can admit that we know enough to do better as a society. Where do we start getting rid of all this dark and painful ugliness? As with many other things, one way to go is to start our children right, by education them about what the whole bullying process (sexual harassment is after all a sick manifestation of power over someone) and everyone involved: the bully, the bullied and those who see but choose to remain silent, or worse, side with the aggressor. Healthy boundaries are everyone’s right to have and everyone’s duty to respect.

Teaching our children to respect the opposite sex takes more than just words though. We ought to model what we preach, standing up when needed, carrying a continuous dialogue that helps keep the issue in the open rather than making it a dark secret hidden in some corner. Let’s not forget that our children hear more than we care to admit these days, disturbing stories of sexual harassment included. It makes sense that parents explain these terms and further explain what respectful behaviour is about.

Educating children can take us to a better future, but what about now? There are a few things to address, and sooner than later: the widespread presence of pornography (secretly accepted by many, yet rarely talked about honestly and with the intention of preventing sexual abuse which the industry often portrays as entertaining,) the need to provide women and men with a safe place to relate of any sexual misconduct that makes them feel threatened in any way at their workplace or any other walk of life, and the great power to do good we all have by refusing to be bystanders.

It’s a big subject and, granted, an uncomfortable one for many, but it is one worth tackling, because now we know enough to not allow it to happen anymore. Because the trauma it leaves behind is often lifelong and even claiming people’s lives, unfortunately. It’s a matter of better choices and honour. We’re capable of both. A hashtag such as #MeToo should not only be an indication of a widespread issue of sexual harassment and abuse, but should be made into a collective promise of doing better as a society.

You Are Human Before Anything Else; It’s What’s Left Behind

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On October 16, 2017

In Armchair Mayor Column, Homeschooling, Kamloops, Learning, Life Stories, Social issues

Originally published as a column on CFJC Today Kamloops and Armchair Mayor News on October 16, 2017 . 

Saturday was a cold, wet, and slightly dreary day, though rain was such precious commodity during the summer that I cannot get myself to dislike it, no matter how much I miss the sun. On our way to the farmer’s market, my oldest son and I bumped into Vaughn Warren, who was as enthusiastic as ever about the time capsule that was about to be attached to the new Freemont Block sign he was recently commissioned to restore. Come by the Makerspace between 3 and 5 today, he said, so you can sign a postcard for the time capsule.

Most of the day had already been scheduled for a few activities but we made it there a few minutes before 5. The sign looked beautifully vibrant and the table next to it was full of cards, photos, and other mementos to be sealed in the time capsule. We signed the guest book and then proceeded to write something on the card before writing down our names.

I had to stop a while and think. This was something that someone, a hundred years from now, will read and think about for a few moments. Much like I was taking my time trying to stretch my thoughts to the other side of the hundred years, that person, or people, will be trying to imagine what it was all like here, now.

An exercise in humbleness if you will. A hundred years from now on I will be long gone, and so will my sons, most likely. Sobering indeed. It’s a thought that makes you hear all the noises in the room suddenly, and makes you see everything around in a different light. It makes you shudder, too. there is a finality attached to you and your life, and there’s no two ways about it. It’s part of the deal. A rainy, cold day is the day you’re in, a gift like no other, and not a dreary time slot you can’t wait to be done with.

The day was already inviting to a lot of reflection regarding the thin line between life and death we’re all due to cross at some point. It was my late friend Richard Wagamese’s birthday (he would’ve turned 62,) and it was the day chosen for Christopher Seguin’s funeral service. Their passing, as well as the passing of some many people I’ve known over the years, my parents and other close relatives included, left me with a cloud of questions: What matters after all, what is worth striving for while you’re alive and what will the others remember of you once you’re gone?

From all that I’ve seen so far, it’s not the material things but the heart matters that live on. They do not only linger, but continue to grow and fill that empty space one leaves behind once they’re gone. The things we do because we choose to show and wear our humanity with pride and gratefulness is what matters; it’s what will inspire those who miss us to keep on going, choose to act with courage and joy, and leave a mark on the world by allowing their humanity to shine through as they live their days.

It is the whole range of acts that count, not just the ones that are news-worthy. It’s the mark we leave behind us when no one’s watching. The gestures, big or small, that can restore someone’s smile, restore someone’s trust in humanity and change the way people around us choose their next steps, so that their hearts show through.

When we choose to live heartfully and with compassion, there’s glowing that transcends your immediate presence. It’s the kind of hopeful shiny stuff that guides those left behind you towards decisions better suited for the greater good, less judgment and more compassion towards those who need it.

A few days ago, I read about an incident in Williams Lake. An elderly man was lying on the ground in a parking lot after having suffered a heart attack, and though many people passed by, no one stopped. Eventually, a woman stopped and called an ambulance, informed the man’s family south of the border about his condition, and took care of his vehicle and boat (the man was on his way to an annual fishing trip with friends.)

Whatever accomplishments the woman who saved his life has achieved so far or will from now on, that she showed her humanity at a time when someone needed it the most is something she will be remembered forever by the man she saved and by his family. Perhaps she will inspire many to be compassionate rather than judge.

Visuals can be awfully deceptive at times. Wearing one’s heart to be seen as we walk through life never is. That’s what I hope a hundred years from now people will still value and strive for. Because before w are anything else, we are human. That is the gift that is handed to us when we’re born, the one we’re supposed to make the most of while we’re alive, and the one we’re leaving behind when we go. That’s what I’ve learned so far from those who lived letting their hearts walk alongside. It’s the kind of legacy humans ought to bestow onto humans.

Giving Thanks With More Than Words

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On October 16, 2017

In Armchair Mayor Column, Environment, Health, Kamloops, Learning, Life Stories

Originally published as a column on CFJC Today Kamloops and Armchair Mayor News on Monday, October 9, 2017. 

One of the simplest and profound joys of every day is stepping outside in early morning to hike with my dog. I will call it overwhelming gratefulness because that is the best way to describe how perfect a dusty trail that separates meadows of dry, yellow grasses, climbs into a sky so blue it defies the very definition of the colour blue itself. It makes gratefulness for the smallest things even more of a daily concept I should heed before I do anything else.

During the times the park and all city parks for that matter were closed due to the increased fire danger, I missed heading out on the trails more than I expected I will. More than not being able to take the dog out to the closest-to-us off-leash area, was the loss of blue skies and clean air and the reality of having to wake up to another day of inhaling deleterious particles small enough to wreak havoc in the body, short- and long-term.

I remember the first day of smoky air when all I could think of was ‘this is a lot of campfire smoke’. It felt silly that my brain would attempt to reduce the gravity of the situation by bringing up an association to what is, for the most part, a fun and sweetly sentimental detail of life.

After a few days though, and then many weeks of milky-white air, my brain made the appropriate switch to match the reality of what was actually happening. Bad air meant a lot of health trouble and that was something that made me even more grateful for every day in between that came with clear skies. Like they say, you don’t know how good you have it until it’s gone. It was like that, and not just for me. I met and chatted with many people who had a whole lot of appreciation for clean air and were missing it a lot.

Then, though the fires were still not fully extinguished, smoke went away and summer came back with warmth and lovely sky, and everyone felt alive and happy again. The wildfire smoke of 2017 was quickly becoming a bad memory at best. The air turned chilly and crisp a couple of weeks later, and though summer had been shortened, I found myself looking forward to fall and its beautiful colours, and to winter with all its magic.

On a particularly lovely though crisp night while wrapped in a warm wool blanket and sipping a cup of tea on the porch with my husband, there came a smell that made me cringe. Smoke! Someone in the neighbourhood had lit a fire in their fireplace, and the fresh air became tainted with the smell and the particles wood smoke brings about. I was surprised to realize how much I disliked it after the summer we had.  The same smell returned the nights after. A fixture of the cold season, though unnecessary and unhealthy.

During our Thursday morning hike, I noticed a column of thick grey smoke rising fast from somewhere in the downtown area. An eastward-draping cloud was slowly forming while firetruck sirens blared loudly, piercing the sunny morning. A few minutes later, they were replaced by the usual buzz and the column of smoke disappeared; so did the smell. The only thing persisting long after the commotion ended, was the cloud of smoke that had formed earlier. It was there still when I headed back home, reinforcing, quietly, yet in a most powerful way, that smoky air is not quickly moved out of the way where we live. My thoughts went back to the nights of fireplace smoke, which though not visible, is equally bad, and the thick summer smoke, which gave a new meaning to air pollution. My only conclusion was that it is too easy to forget how painful the lack of clean air was during those long smoky weeks.

I was reminded that we cannot afford to take clean air for granted. We have come to acquire enough knowledge of what pollution brings about, health-wise, and most of us agree that nothing comes close to the simple yet amazing gift of taking a breath of fresh air on any given day. Much of the particulate matter that wood smoke contains is small enough to penetrate cells and create a whole range of health problems, from greatly increasing cancer and stroke risk, to aggravating asthma and other chronic respiratory conditions, to affecting unborn babies and the developing brains of growing children.

There is so much at risk when the air we breathe is polluted. Granted, sometimes there is not much we can do to protect ourselves other than stay inside and run air purifiers during the times when wildfires are raging. But once the air gets clean, we must find better ways when we have a choice such as lighting a woodfire when cleaner ways to find cozy comfort are available. That applies to the other cold weather pesky thing, which is making its way back with the season: idling our cars for a long time before driving away, or to keep warm in the parking lot.

We have much to show our thankfulness for, more so when throwing even a furtive gaze over the many sad news stories from around the world. From the simplest things to the big ones, from the most obvious ones to the ones not immediately visible or easily forgettable, to have a say in the quality of the air we breathe, or the water we drink and or the food we eat, that is a big reason to be grateful for when we have it.

For now we do, and for that I am grateful. As I am for today’s blue sky and its dollopy clouds, for the rain last night and the fresh air it brought about, and for all the things I realize I have as soon as I open my eyes, starting with the wonderful world we live in, my family, the many wonderful people I have met along the journey, the freedom to express my thoughts and you, the readers.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Kamloops Is Still A Good Place To Be

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On October 2, 2017

In Armchair Mayor Column, Kamloops, Learning, Life Stories, Social issues

Originally published as a column on CFJC Today Kamloops and Armchair Mayor News on October 2, 2017. 

There’s this curious phenomenon that happens to many of our family’s out-of-town guests when they come for a visit: they fall in love with Kamloops. Sure, for most of the year, hills are dry, though the wild west appeal is certainly present and charming. The summer of 2017 was painfully smoky for long enough to scare away visitors and make us all feel shortchanged when the leaves started turning.

There’s the occasional pulp mill smell, which can be a rude pungent awakening on an otherwise pleasant morning, or evening, for that matter, and yet despite of that, Kamloops inspires to many a homey feeling, for lack of a better way to define that special something.

You stroll through the downtown and it’s pleasant. Not perfect, but that is not the point. Life isn’t either. There are many an eye-pleasing places you can stop by, whether to eat, shop, or grab a cup of coffee and watch people walk by. Even if you’re new in town, the chances of bumping into a familiar face are high; a good thing. Blame it on the many events that Kamloops is hosting throughout the year, or the lively farmers’ market that seems to have grown in popularity this year, especially on Saturdays (a very welcoming sight indeed!)

There is beautiful nature surrounding Kamloops and breathtaking sunsets. Some might say that it all sounds nice and sweet, too much so, if only I could get my blinders off and realize that the many issues that plague our downtown and city are a terribly sad and frustrating reality. They are, without a doubt.

There is the downtown parking (though I still think the former KDN building could have been used for a better purpose,) the presence of many transient people, who can occasionally be aggressive (a friend’s teenage son was recently aggressed near the library), or the ones begging for change, which many people find annoying and intrusive.

City-wise, we have a heartbreaking yet-to-be-solved drug overdose problem, we have careless, distracted, or impaired drivers whose actions make the news too often, and a frustrating lack of family doctors. There are many homeless people still, and we have a recycling issue that leaves much to be desired. There is rush hour traffic, and we have a long way to improving public transportation in some areas and becoming greener. Then, there are the issues that divide the city, such as mines and pipelines, and have been doing so for a long time.

There are a lot of things that can be said about Kamloops, some better than others. But here’s an extra good thing that the recent byelections revealed. That there are many who care enough about all that Kamloops is and isn’t, to put their name out there, share their beliefs, and hope for a seat in the council or to become mayor.

It’s no small thing. It takes courage to do that. The campaign time was short, which allowed for too little knowledge of the candidates, and not enough dialogue with the voters; the percentage of voters was dismal, many are saying, at a humble 21 percent.

We now have a new mayor and a somewhat refreshed council. They will be facing much heat when it comes to the divisive issues, and they will be measured against their predecessors. There will be personal attacks and social media will be raging at times. Which makes me say, once more, that I am amazed at how many Kamloops citizens got ready do it, nonetheless.

Low voter percentage can be blamed on apathy, lack of time to find out who’s who, or a plain old ‘who cares?’ attitude. Hopefully, by the next elections we will double or triple that percentage. If some of us care enough to put themselves out there as candidates, we should all care enough to take time and find out what they stand for and ultimately vote, so here’s to a better next time. Meanwhile, there is much to be proud of. First, that many candidates put time and courage in signing up for the race. It’s the age of people taking jabs at people on social media simply for being out there. Hats off to those who signed up for the task anyway.

As for the ones who got elected, let’s hope we can find good ways to cheer them on, encourage them, criticize constructively rather than attack them, and thus help in seeing some of the many issues Kamloops is facing, solved, or at least improved. Dialogue is everything.

As with everything else in life, you take the good with the bad as they say. Kamloops issues are no different. There’s a lot of good things that are immediately apparent and then there are the stagnant many things that chip at that good image. Those we elected can change some of that during the next year, and chances are they can do a better job if we supply feedback, involvement, and insist on having a dialogue. If voting was a few days only, dialogue can be an ongoing thing until the next round of elections.

Meanwhile, Kamloops is still a great place to be. Here’s to seeing good and better things happen under the new leadership!

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