Daniela Ginta, Freelance Writer

Gratitude makes the journey better. Kindness, too.

Author: Daniela Ginta Page 43 of 99

My path is a winding one. I write, I raise my sons, I love and I live.
Waking up to a new adventure every day. I have all that I need at every moment.

Two Boys and Their Smiles. Seasons and School

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On September 3, 2015

In Learning, Life Stories, Motherhood, Self-improvement

FaceThe summer came to an end a few days ago. Or so it seems. It is cold in early morning, and cold at night. It feels like late October mornings when dollops of hot breath snake out of your mouth and you feel the tip of your nose becoming a separate, cold entity.

Calendula orange suns are the only flowers that still ornate our lost little garden, the one that became so small and dry it required daily water support. Except that we were not here every day and thus the story of what could have been ended a while go with some sorry half-ripened tomatoes and leggy minuscule cucumbers that tried to embrace some oh-so-dry beans with their last drop of climbing energy.

Summer endBut I will not dwell too much on that. The summer had its fruit in days of hot and silly times, it had swimming and traveling and waking up so late the sun was almost scolding us. It had starry nights and lying in the dry grass in the back yard waiting for a meteor shower that we barely saw but relished the experience so much that we thought it was a successful adventure. Are they not all like that though?

Yes they are. Boys grow and as they do, they make it so. We dance as they sing and no one knows which song comes next. Life happens. It did so all summer and now fall comes back like a stray dog we left behind last year. Hello September, here already? Of course you are.

But this year… Stop. We talk about school but our words have wings. The boys and their smiles are complete. We have stacks of books awaiting, we have stories to tell and write and we have a world to discover. And then another. Time will not stand still. Be it so, we make it sing with us.

Boys smile and snuggle in early morning, hikes to follow just before we start the day of school which this year we will call homeschool.

as far as...With gentle ties to online schools that will assist our flight, plus a forest adventure every week for little boy. Thus shall be our dance and time will have its say complementing our words rather than have us chase for better ones. Time is never enough, not with growing kids and life tumbles. Slow slow, so you can hear leaves whooshing in the wind and blades of grass grow…

 

them twoTime with boys, growing boys that still have plenty of smiles and their growing trust. That we can have our school here, that we learn together and travel to places unknown. Day after day, this month and the next and all that will follow until the nest becomes too small for their wings, the boys will snuggle, ask for more, ask for less, laugh, scream loud enough for half the world to hear, hug and say ‘I’m sorry, never again’, and then it will happen again, because we never learn all there is to learn, but keep on trying… and I will see it all, I will see their footsteps tracing paths I never knew existed. It is so. Magic.

To flySchool, ours, with two boys and their smiles. To fly, infinitive. To make wings out of love and have them spread all the way over the horizon. ‘Tis so.

Lessons Sprouting Out Of Small Gardens. Eight.

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On August 16, 2015

In Learning, Life Stories, Motherhood, Self-improvement

FlavoursIt is by no one’s fault in particular that the garden this year is of Lilliputian dimensions and rather drab looking. A far cry from last year’s. But such is life. The road reveals itself as you go and gardens have a way of teaching humbleness. Lesson one.

Like parenting. I said it before. The parallel is striking. The temptation to dismiss the less glamorous results and expect excellence cannot lead to growth of any kind. We’d be stalled in deciphering the meaning of it all. Hiccups give a measure of worthiness. Struggles. Lesson two.

Despite its size and abysmal appearance (tours by request, not that anyone would, and no, there is no fee other than accepting the immutable truth that dandelions are not weeds) a garden is a book to read and learn from. Small print like this year’s in particular.

PagesHaving never read a garden makes no difference. Learning happens as you step outside in early morning and clumps of dry grass become artesian fountains; instead of water, grasshoppers. They waltz in the morning air, so at home in their long graceful jumps you start wondering in whose garden you all are after all… Be grateful, they seem to say, even a small garden can be shared. Lesson three.

 

TeenyLife is always to celebrate. Dead quiet is scary and sad. Gardens are supposed to buzz, I learn as I crunch my way through towards the tiny pickling cucumbers and miniature beans bushes. Feet want it soft, but the roughness reminds of hot summer air and water too precious to waste on too hungry a lawn to make a difference after all. It’s never about my slight discomfort, visual, physical or otherwise. We’re here to sharpen our sight se we can see the big picture… Sharp sight goes well with softened hearts. Lesson three.

Tiny curled cucumbers befriend leaves that keep them safe from the hot son. What if this garden and its humble harvest was all I had to feed my family? What if? What if no one wasted a bite ever again? What would the ripple effect look like? Humbleness, again. So much to say thank you on any given morning. Lesson four.

Keep on reading gardens. Too small you think? Too dry? They never are… You’ll read in a handful of dirt you pick up, in a leaf that sits in the sun but never burns to a crisp as I would, in the bugs that crawl on the dark green kale… Mysteries. Can you see? Hear? Save time for being where you are, for the one blink that teaches you about how fast everything goes. Lesson five.

still thereBloomAs if the garden is not small enough, the bugs make it smaller by eating the kale leaves. Former green lush tongues spike the air as empty stems, sorry looking and slightly confused. Who’s the thief? The nighttime bug show is on every night. I sleep, they crunch and munch their way through the only leaves that made it to full size. We’re only as alive as the world, visible and invisible. Light and dark, up and down, gifts and plundering… Accept it all, choose to not be bothered but enlightened by learning that you’re given challenges as you go. Lesson six.

Boys burst out in the sun, sleepy faces, bug kisses on arms and legs, hugs… reminders. They are one day older, one day closer to learning that it is all in the choices we make. To feel the sun pinching your cheeks, to smell the summer air, to learn that grasshoppers hear with their tummies and to never take anything for granted… not even a small enough garden. Lesson seven.

Orange sunsnever give upI pick calendula orange suns. They’ll become golden oil for winter days. I pick lemon balm and mint for tea, basil and tarragon. Small and fragrant. Life abounds. If only I remember to see it. Through the lenses of my Lilliputian garden where sunflowers match the theme. Small. Despite all, it grew. Barely reaching knee height, my only sunflower never considered quitting reaching for the sun. Lesson eight. 

Why Every Vote Counts

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On August 3, 2015

In Armchair Mayor Column, Life Stories, Social issues

Initially published as a column on AM News.

To vote or notA couple of weeks ago Canadians living abroad woke up to sobering news: those who have lived abroad for more than five years do not have the right to vote in Canada anymore. The reason, according to the Ontario Court of Appeal, is that their vote would harm Canada’s democracy.

I can almost hear some people ask ‘Canada’s what?’ because, frankly, democracy has been on trial lately. If living abroad for various reasons makes one unfitting to vote, where does Canadian citizenship stand?

A poignant and pertinent letter from Canadian actor Donald Sutherland addresses the issue in a way that makes it impossible not to see the wrongness of it. People have their reasons to live where they live but being a Canadian citizen does not come with an expiration date, nor is it conditioned by where you live.

Are we to expel people from our Canadian midst because they live abroad? Many take a deep interest in what is happening in their own country and their reasons to vote are not to undermine our democracy or well-being, but rather guard against anything that might harm it. Many of them have families still living here and it is in everyone’s interest to safeguard the values of the Canadian society, whether you live here or not.

Some say that Canada does not take a patriotic stand, compared to other countries. Well, this comes as close as one can ask for. People who live outside the countries boundaries are and feel Canadian enough to fight for their right to vote.

While some countries do not allow for dual citizenship, in case of those who choose to get a second one, Canada does not impose such rules. Not yet anyway.

While there are way too many Canadian citizens who live in Canada permanently and, upon seeing – one can hope everyone does – the happenings in our social and political environments, choose to forgo adding their vote, there is nothing wrong and everything right about allowing those who live abroad and want to vote the right to do so. If anything, our government, true to honouring every citizen of our country as every citizen is expected to honour the country by caring and thus voting, should go above and beyond in making sure that everyone who holds a Canadian passport has a place to vote.

Because every vote counts. More so in a country where a lot has been happening and many are crying foul over recent decisions of the present government. More so in a country that many decry the slow but steady disappearance of democratic values.

Would a democratic society allow its citizens to be kept in the dark about many political decisions (let’s call them done deals) that the government makes, decisions that cannot be revoked for a few decades and could possibly affect the country, its resources and, ultimately, its citizens?

Would a democratic society allow knowledge to be pushed to the side, through destroying reference libraries and having scientists who oppose the present government’s proposals muzzled because that would affect the financial gains of big corporate giants?

Would a democratic society allow for any of its citizens to be stripped of their right to vote unless they willingly renounce their Canadian citizenship?

A country’s affairs are never solely a country’s affairs. They pertain to the whole world because, nowadays more than ever, we are facing the reality of ‘we are all citizens of the world’. We are, each and every one of us, and that makes it every one’s responsibility to make tomorrow better. Think climate change for example.

Climate change issues that have been surfacing lately, seen in severe weather patterns affecting many countries, more or less directly, and endangering the future of many who are already on the brink of hardship, also seen in our immediate environment here in our own province, represent a global call to action that has been acknowledged by many political figures.

That Canada has been missing from most of the meetings addressing these global issues after retiring from the Kyoto protocol, more so when some of the economic ventures of our country contribute to the said issues, makes one wonder whether Canadian citizens have their right to speak up and express their views as one would in a democracy respected at all.

If our democracy is strong and reinforced from within, nothing from the outside can damage it, not a few votes by well-intended citizens anyway.

While Canadians living abroad may not know the nitty gritty of every day social and political events here, they have a say in what elections bring because their passport gives them the right to do so. If anything, a view from afar adds yet another opinion about our life here. And if a country relies on true democratic values, opinions, whether they are pro and cons, would only offer opportunities to revisit the said values.

The Honour System – Why We Need It In Place

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On August 3, 2015

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

parked

Initially published as a column in the AM News.

There are many pressing environmental issues that have my attention these days, such as the new decision that Shell can drill in the arctic (restrictions notwithstanding, drilling is drilling), or that our premier is about to sign up the province for many long years of LNG extraction. Meanwhile, there is yet an urgent community issue that I wish to put forth. Traffic matters.

I love driving, but it was during a drive from Vancouver to Kamloops a couple of months ago that I felt uncomfortable on the road and fearful. A semi, as big and roaring as semis can be, was tailgating. Kind of a bullying situation in the school yard but with cars.

To see a big truck way too close to a small car was scary for many reasons. What if the small car had to hit the breaks to avoid collision or another hurried driver sneaking in front? Mass and speed make for one major road threat, and breaking becomes a lengthy process that could take lives or maim someone.

That was before Hope. Once the speed limit switched to 120km/h after Hope the road became a race track.

I used to love speed. Car and road bike. One could argue that it can be done safely in certain areas. I changed my mind on that one once I allowed physics to imbue the reality of driving fast, and even more so after hearing a line that kept repeating itself to create a haunting, yet necessary effect. Whether said in first or third person the story ends with ‘…did not expect that car to drive into ours… The guy was doing at least 150km/h…’

If you’re lucky, you end up with some temporary health problems. If not, it’s chronic ones or death. I have a friend who is still mourning the death of his child. There’s nothing in this world to ever explain how risking not just your own life but everyone else’s on the road is not a capital sin.

Truly, there is little police reinforcement on some roads so it is left to us drivers to keep it civilized, whether that means no tailgating or abiding by other road signs and prompts. Which means that even though 60km/h in construction areas may feel like you’re barely moving, after rolling at 120 for most of the drive, you cannot go 80 or more just because 60 seems intolerable.

Honour and driving could make a smashing combo and a safe one for everyone.

Two issues stand out regarding honour on the road: drinking and driving, and hit-and-run scenarios. How many people drink and drive and are never caught because somehow they never get involved in a dangerous situation that ends someone’s life? The stories I’ve heard from many people are heartbreaking.

The punishment is a mild one still, in Canada, and if being punished is what it comes down to… well, let’s just say we’re all innocent until proven otherwise, but what a way to live.

As for hit-and-run, that might be classified as a classic case of missing honour. Here’s a story I heard recently with the mention ‘Please write about it, it’s just so wrong…’. It is indeed.

Imagine person A driving into a parking lot, parking and walking into a store, only to emerge twenty minutes later to find person B standing by the car and pointing to person C just a few steps away. ‘That guy just hit your truck.’ Person A assesses the damage. Meanwhile, person C walks over and says to person A: ‘You hit my car.’

Bedazzled, person A says ‘No, I didn’t, I was in the store.’ Person C is relentless. ‘Yes you did.’

Person A resists and strikes forth with the confidence of having backup. ‘No, I didn’t. You hit mine, that guy saw you.’ Silence. Person C, now exposed, and in lower voice ‘OK… well, is there any damage?’ No comment.

Honour? Nope, at all. Sad and scary? Yes, in more than one way. Taking responsibility for our actions is a mature thing to do, on the road, in parking lots, at home, at work, whether a thousand people see us or no one does. Someone always does. Ourselves.

Honour is what makes our society liveable and good to live in. Safe. Humanity has always been flawed, no period in history had only honourable people walking around, but having walked on this Earth long enough as a race, we ought to show that we understand more and behave accordingly.

If you create a situation with a negative consequence, you own it and fix it and that’s that. Being unforthcoming about things, even trivial matters, creates room for bigger ones to occur. And they do. It’s called complacency. It grows like the scum on unattended ponds and it takes over transparency.

There may be a time to shrug and brush over the consequences of our actions if they are not of deadly nature, but the point is, when we’re in a social situation, we need to show our grown-up side and own up to it all, good and bad.

Learning happens when the mind is open. Keeping our minds open is a sign of understanding our commitment to life and all its magic. Mindfulness. When we do, good things happen, and that means mistakes too, as they become opportunities to learn. A measure of honour if you will.

Consideration Is The Only Way To Go

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On July 22, 2015

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

Initially published as a column in the AM News on Friday, July 17, 2015. 

then and thereYesterday we landed on Denman Island and luck had it that we got a campsite by the ocean in what could easily be called ‘slice of paradise’. Night came and with it clouds and a bit of rain. Might as well, it is not only needed in our bone dry province but it really suits the ocean well.

We had dinner and listened to the waves. Lights flickered on the islands nearby and on the sky that was occasionally cleared of clouds.

A light came on at the site opposing ours. Then musical instruments, and an impromptu band complemented our night by the ocean. A group of musicians, most of them calling themselves ‘old enough to know that song’ who meet every year on the island for a couple of weeks, managed to add a touch of magic to the night.

For two hours or so, they provided us all with music and laughs. It happens when there you can count the sites on the fingers of your hands. We got to chatting and found out about other campsites on nearby islands where partying takes a different path.

Many young people bring enough alcohol and recreational drugs to party hard, which makes it noisy and unpleasant for the rest of the campers there. No softly sung tunes that invite in, we’re told, but raucous and uncomfortable.

It made me think father then just camping. It’s everywhere and it has to do with everything we do, from everyday life activities we have to do, to the recreational ones. Some people live with consideration towards others, while others live for themselves and do not bother think whether their actions impend other people in any way. Everything we do impacts others and it takes a good deal of brain power trying to figure out why some simply do not care.

It shouldn’t be this way with anything.

Raising our children in a way that helps them learn that everything they do might prevent a lot of heartache down the road.

As we drove through a handful of small communities along the northern part of Vancouver Island, we got to talk to a few people and learned a lot. Many communities have been heavily and negatively impacted by the industries that provided work for most of the people for enough years to make people dependent on it, but recent changes in laws (think the last decade or so) created work vacuums that saw the same communities dismantled and people scattered in search of means to survive.

The story repeats itself at every level. Local people are employed by certain industries (mainly logging here) but often times they see things that oppose their communities’ beliefs, yet speaking up might mean job loss and inability to provide for their families.

Just the same, residents can wake up with chemicals being sprayed way too close to their only source of water and no accountability for what could mean health issues down the road for people who form too small a community to have a loud enough voice to be heard.

These are beautiful places, just like the rest of our province and country, where nothing deleterious to people or nature should ever occur. Not if people would live with consideration for others.

People’s efforts to save beauty and the pristine while also allowing the necessary work-providing industries is the same in every community, be it large or small, except that in the small ones everything is more visible.

With enough consideration and less greed, everyone would have a fair chance to live a life they’d earn with decent work and enjoy the places they choose to live in. Consideration cannot be achieved by secrecy or governments that do not consider the impact of their laws on the very people they govern, but by openness that allows for opinions to be shared and consequences to be understood and if negative, prevented.

such isConsideration allows for joy as well. Whether it concerns working, vacationing, driving (rather shocking to realize how many tailgaters live in our very province), building a new home or an industrial project, activities that people undertake, individually or as a group, should be taken through the necessary filter of consideration and respect.

Lack of it benefits a handful, while its presence benefits all. Choosing the latter and educating ourselves and our children in that way of living makes all the sense.

Taking Care Of Our Vulnerable Ones Is A Matter Of Importance

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On June 30, 2015

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

(Initially published as a column in the AM News)

giftsBetween 1998 and 2002 when my oldest son was born, I spent every Saturday morning practising social skills with a boy who had autism. He had a very sweet face and big brown eyes, and, just like any other six-year-old, he was happy to have people visit. Because of his condition, he had a couple of visits every week and his parents were relieved to have the help and also that extra bit of time off.

I was a volunteer, part of a buddy program that the Autism Society of BC had to put an end to in 2000, regretfully (sad to imagine that a program that used free community resources of the best kind – willing people, could not be saved). I opted to keep working with the boy, despite the program being terminated until my son was born and my days underwent a new baby reform and time to spare became a dream.

The boy’s family had many concerns about the future because they knew that one day their little boy with autism will become an adult with autism and the somewhat limited resources will be even more limited. They were right. He is now 21 and part of the group of adults with developmental disabilities who have access to limited care and resources, if any, outside their home.

A ‘then what?’ situation that I have come to hear of more than one time, and not just autism-related.

The son of some of my close friends has Duchenne muscular dystrophy and their journey, challenging by default one could say, has been, at times, even more challenging due to closed doors and a rather undignifying message of ‘No, we cannot help you with that.’

The community they live in stepped up and organized fundraisers to help out. It meant the world to my friends, but the fact remains that their expectations to have an ‘official’ hand get them out of the murky waters of increasing financial burdens and a quagmire of worries regarding the future are being put to test too often.

It is hard to imagine that kind of anguish. It is shameful that there is not enough funding to support those most vulnerable in our society. An ever-growing group, by all accounts and unfortunately so, that includes many people, young and old, with different issues; from developmental disabilities, to genetic conditions to cancer and mental issues, we hear of waiting lists and dwindling resources, and at the same time we hear of willing staff trying to help but becoming equally frustrated at the limited amount of funds that provincial and federal governments allocate to those in need.

In our own part of the woods here in Kamloops, we have but one oncologist at RIH, which means new patients who need one are directed to Kelowna. Cancer treatments and traveling do not mix well but what to do if you have no choice? The local discussion forums have been rife with arguments over the allocation of (lots of) money for the new Performing Arts Center when matters such as lack of specialized clinics are more needed in our midst. Steamy pros and cons matches aside, those who have been under threat, or their loved ones, know that available care is vital.

In caring for the most vulnerable, a country shows its true colours one could say. Budgets are never easy to figure out and issues keep piling up. Yet at the same time, those of us who are most at risk and their caregivers cannot be pushed to the side and told to wait until resources, be it money or people, are available. Some simply cannot wait; they do not have the luxury to do so.

It is heartwarming to see that at an individual or community level many people care and are willing to help out, but that is not enough to get those who need help through the thick of it. With elections approaching, we need to ask those who want to take the lead to care for our vulnerable ones. Together with a much needed solid education agenda, a plan to revive services and set aside funds for those in need should be a must-do for our soon to be elected government. We will all be better for it.

As I already said, it is hard to imagine the anguish of those who desperately need help, yet we have to do it. Our humanity obliges us to.

 

The Naked Truth Of Growing From Old Times

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On June 14, 2015

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

Originally published as a column in the AM News on Friday, June 12, 2015.

IMG_8585We had promised my youngest that we will go visit Barkerville for his birthday this year. Family emergencies got in the way as his day approached and we postponed but not cancelled, so last Sunday saw us on the way to the promised location.

It’s a beautiful drive through the Cariboo, and while every season has its wild surprises, this time of year bears its own with much dignity. Green, so green invites to thoughts of reverence: We are incredibly lucky to be living in a place that can be defined as ‘still wild’ and full of wonder. Total headcount on the drive to Wells from Quesnel: four black bears and five moose, countless ground squirrels. Plus six llamas as we started our drive, all curious, all eager to come closer and make acquaintance.

There is no better way to learn about the world around when you’re a kid. Or travelling with kids, because the world seen through their eyes has a lot of question marks, and far from being a nuisance, they are but gentle nudging about all of that we are due to learn. Also, a child’s point of view adds the kind of perspective that is often overlooked for reasons of political correctness or in order to steer away from any kind of conflict.

As far as learning goes, Barkerville is a world apart in more than one way.

The main street is lined up with buildings that become windows towards a time when things were different. As it goes with then and now, we can expand on the topic of what was better then versus now, and we can appreciate the long way we’ve come in learning to do things better in various areas of social life.

IMG_8596The actors roamed the streets and though we knew they are as much a part of today as we are, we allowed ourselves to be wide-eyed at how they showed us the old times. Billy Barker played croquet with Mr. Wallace while debating the ridiculous rumours of camels being brought to Barkerville.

They removed their hats as soon as I passed by them and said ‘Good day!’ to all four of us, which caused a first surprise smile on the boys’ faces.

IMG_8588We had lunch at a local old style diner and our server couldn’t have been more proper. Dressed in a long skirt and white cotton shirt, she had smiles and great conversation skills and referred to the boys as ‘young gentleman’. They were charmed and remarked on the properness of old days.

During lunch they learned that the place did not have anything made of plastic, not even the OPEN sign, which was instead a slate board written on in chalk. They both looked at me, their faces melted in yet another big smile ‘This is your kind of place, Mom.’

The host who guided us through the house and stories of Joe and Betty Wendel, the boys remarked, had great storytelling skills and clothes that were functional and proper and also elegant. It was mesmerizing, just like the stories about determined Mrs. Wendel who roamed the woods, painted, and who was the first to monitor the wild birds of the area.

‘People were very properly dressed in those times,’ the boys remarked, as an infusion of tight-clad and very short shorts tourists reached the main streets as we were making our way to the nearby stream.

It’s a tough one to even open the conversation on. Present times are rife with debates on sexual harassment and defining acceptable boundaries; we tell kids of ‘stranger danger’ and private space, and that no one is to be getting too close to what we define as private parts. But then they see people wearing the kind of clothing that makes private parts less private and they ask: what about that?

Times have changed, yes. Freedom of expression and choice of public presence need to be redefined as it is rather striking how they defy the very laws of decency we have been relying on in hope to help people abide by certain social boundaries.

On Tuesday we drove back to Kamloops and the CBC Radio News ran a piece on two Canadians who, upon taking naked selfies on a Malaysian sacred mountain are now accused of having angered the gods and thus become the cause of an earthquake that killed 18 and displaced hundreds. Oh. The piece was followed on Wednesday by another about a Kelowna resident who attempted naked sunbathing and is now facing criminal charges. Oh again.

Then versus now suddenly became more real. Was ‘then’ better than ‘now’? The answer is far from clear cut. Women and human rights for one were not exactly top of any political or social agenda, and that is a great achievement, though one may argue that that is not the case all over the world.

If we just look at social demeanour and the way we dress, I’d say we lost a way here and there. Selfie culture, while it brings faces forth, it pushes common sense into the back seat. Social challenges and attempts at feeling ‘liberated’ should involve more than exposing cheeks, be they front or back.

With all that we know of ourselves and our long journey through time over ages, we should be able to come up with less embarrassing ways of putting ourselves out there, both at a personal level and when representing our country, and we should conduct ourselves in ways that will allow our children to remark not just on the decency and charm of the old times, but present times as well.

Because, if we are to be honest with ourselves, their learning today becomes the way they live later. If children remark that the emperor’s new clothes are missing, we should not shrug and look aside but really try and see if the emperor is indeed naked.

That way, we show them that we grow from ages past by learning, rather than go against them in a vain attempts to be rebels without a cause, because the (naked) truth is, there is no lasting glory in that. And long lasting is what drew us to a place like Barkerville in the first place…

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