Daniela Ginta, Freelance Writer

Gratitude makes the journey better. Kindness, too.

Author: Daniela Ginta Page 54 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.

The Need To Speak Up (Or Why Yet Another Day Is Still Not Enough)

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On May 14, 2014

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

Originally published on May 9, 2014 as a column in the AM News under the title ‘Is yet another day to honour veterans and remember the fallen enough?’ 

In a couple of days, some of us will observe two minutes of silence during the ceremonies for the National Day of Honour.

According to the PM’s office, May 9th is a day dedicated to ‘commemorating the strength and sacrifices made by the members of the Canadian Armed Forces in Afghanistan, and to recognizing and supporting the friends and family of the fallen.’

It sounds better than it actually is, you’ll hear most veterans say. Reminders are good, but parades and official breakfast aside, a day is a day is a day.

You watch the parade, extend your condolences to the families who lost their loved ones in Afghanistan, shake the hands of those who made it back and the next day we’re all back to our daily life, feeling good about the honouring deed. It should not end there.

Over the last few months, nine members of the Canadian Armed Forces committed suicide. Their families and friends pointed to the lack of support most veterans face once they return from the war.

Whether you agree with the war idea in general and the Afghanistan war in particular, one thing is clear as daylight: soldiers do not go to vacation in war zones, nor do they go there on a personal mission. They represent Canada. Therefore, it is only expected that Canada would support them when they return.

Yet many find themselves falling through the cracks of a bureaucratic system that cannot accommodate the less elegant needs of a damaged-by-war soldier.

Hence the question: Would a day of honouring the veterans do?

Some soldiers argue that we already have Remembrance Day. Why not honour the Afghanistan veterans then, together with the rest of the veterans and put the funds spent on a day like May 9th aside for the needs far greater than a commemorating day?

While help is not completely missing, many of the veterans face severe uphill battles by themselves. People do not commit or attempt to commit suicide just because. Many of the modern day veterans suffer from visible and/or invisible wounds, many of which surface as post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) months or years after they return from deployment.

They fight demons only they can see and they often end up breaking apart even from their loved ones, lost between a system that was supposed to help them get help and overwhelming desperation that pushes them to seek ultimate relief.

Every person is affected differently in a given situation. Some of the veterans return to their previous lives after deployment, some continue to serve as reservists and some are either discharged or choose to retire or take a leave of absence.

Regardless of their status, veterans need to know they are not alone once they are back. A census of some sort that keeps track of veterans long after they return from the war and thorough, periodic tests that would allow them to get the help they need when they need it is the least they should be offered after putting their lives on the line.

To some it may be a formality, nothing more than a yearly checkup, but to many it would be a lifeline and confirmation that they are not forgotten. Lest we forget sounds much better when backed up by facts.

Many of the Veterans Affairs offices that closed recently due to financial cuts added insult to injury once more, pointing to a reality many of us are not comfortable with. We are not taking care of our vulnerable ones.

When veterans get the short end of the stick, how are we to convince them and their families, and ourselves as a society that we act with respect and compassion towards our fellow citizens?

That a country and its government support a war is one thing. To support the returning veterans and their families is another. No Canadian veteran should ever feel like their life is worth nothing just because the war has ended.

If we are to commemorate the fallen and honour our veterans, let’s do it right on the days leading up to it and after as well.

How We Love, We Live And Grow

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On May 13, 2014

In Life Stories, Self-improvement

FacetsThere are different kinds of love. As you go through life you get to taste many of them. There is no how to manual on any and as for the one that can run deep enough to change your life, you’ll know it by seeing it not with your eyes but with your heart.

You’re ready to love when you’re willing to know more. Of life, of the temporary state of being, of yourself, of being weak and strong, of being right and wrong, and knowing that being right or else has nothing to do with being. You learn, you grow some more; again. And grateful.

 

OneSome people love in ways that make them reinvent themselves or forget themselves.

Some love in ways that make them want to know themselves because someone shows them they’re worthy. Someone showed them the path to themselves, and they’ll never be lost again.

That is the kind of love that will help you find yourself and blossoming as you do so.

That love that won’t let you live a second more unless you drink its cup to the last drop. And the last drop will never come because there is no end to it.

You’ll know it when you feel it. If you’re lucky.

The certainty will be astounding and humbling. Like a thunderstorm opening the skies and letting out the light like a bunch of wild horses pounding down from the clouds right into your heart, and then stopping there to let you enjoy their wild beauty. They’ve come home.

You’ll fear they’ll leave until you see them feed on the grass and drinking the brooks that you once thought were dry and the land underneath cracked and tired. You’ll fear until one day you won’t anymore. You’ll know they’re there to stay.

Forever becomes permanence and it humbles you. Do you deserve it? Don’t ask that. If you ask of yourself, you’ll ask of others and that makes many dreams crumble before they take off flying. Fear kills dreams.

To seeThere are many kinds of love. You’ll never know when and how, you’re never ready and the game has no rules other than a necessity for open-heartedness. It’s not a word, you say? That’s just it. You’ll have to invent many as you go. You’ll have to write stories of losing and finding yourself, stories of daring to believe, courage to let yourself be shaken, courage to fly high when flying low is all you thought you could handle.

Most of all, stories of being vulnerable. Of learning how to. Of learning to never pretend you can smile when a smile burns the inside of your body.

Stories of being true.

If you are ready to be true, you will find the rest. It’ll come. Just open your heart.

Many, every one different, all the sameMost importantly, never judge any kind of love that comes your way. Be grateful. You’ll grow in kindness and patience and strength. You’ll feel alive. It matters.

 

The Pesticide Dilemma and Why We Should Look Into It

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On May 5, 2014

In Armchair Mayor Column, Environment, Kamloops, Social issues

(Originally published as a column in the AM News on Friday, May 2, 2014)

The garden is coming along nicely. From green onions to radishes, carrots, peas and the lettuce mix disrupting the pattern of bright green with unexpected burgundy, our back yard is laced with goodness.

More to come. Back yard goodness, and weeds also. That means weeding. Again and again, until that first frost in the fall when it’ll all come to a well-deserved rest.

There will be plenty of clean food to eat yet we supplement, as we always do in summer, from the farmer’s market, sourcing for chemical-free crops as much as we can.

Clean food is something to be immensely grateful for. More so when, growing it ourselves, we become aware of the hard work behind it.

A recent Australian study showed that in just seven days of eating mostly organic, pesticide levels in people’s bodies dropped by 90 per cent.

This kind of science is not earth-shattering in the novelty category.

We know eating clean is good. While a couple of studies showed that organic produce is not necessarily superior nutritionally when compared to conventional crops (that is still a matter of debate,) the chemical load that the latter comes with cannot be denied.

It is well known that some crops are more sprayed than others, and some pesticides can wreak havoc with human health, especially when it comes to children.

Little sunsThere have been studies showing correlations between neurodevelopmental impairments in children and pesticide use; this pertains cosmetic use as well as agricultural.

The move towards cleaner produce, which translates into a cleaner environment and a lesser impact on human health, is an actively growing one.

Organic crops can be finicky in how they develop and their vulnerability to the elements, plus their increased demand for the tedious repetitive work, such as the above mentioned weeding.

For these reasons and more, organic produce costs more, yet perhaps not much more when one keeps to seasonal local produce.

Many say that you cannot feed the world unless you bring in conventionally-grown crops that rely on chemicals for growth and pest control, or genetically modified crops with that address the needs of the billions of us inhabiting the planet.

Most of conventionally-grown produce is undebatedly, cheaper than organic produce.
Yet, in many ways, it is, and continues to become more expensive. If we add the impact on human health and the environment, and the fact that cheap food encourages waste, the price spikes to new highs.

A comprehensive pesticide use survey done in California revealed that many children go to schools located near farm fields with intensive pesticide use, and are, as a result, exposed to high amounts of chemicals, some which have been already shown to be toxic and some already banned in other parts of the world.

The Canadian Association of the Physicians for the Environment (www.cape.ca) adds a strong voice to the issue.

The neurobehavioral effects of pesticide use on children are subtle in many cases but also pervasive. Behavioral problems, attention/hyperactivity issues, learning disabilities observed in more children every year, the result of chemical exposure before birth or during the first years of life. Pesticides are one of the said chemicals.

Children are, by default, vulnerable, due to their developing bodies. It is not a matter of whether they’ll be affected but how much.

A landmark study of Mexican children growing in a valley where pesticides are heavily used supports the concern. These children showed decreased stamina, impaired gross and fine motor skills, memory and drawing ability, when compared to their same age, less exposed peers.

While may say ‘Well that does not happen in all farm areas’ and they may be right, there are a few thought-provoking aspects of such studies.

As we know, much of the colorful, out-of-season produce found in grocery stores in North America comes from places such as the Yaqui Valley of northwestern Mexico where the pesticide study was done.

If there is demand, the offer will be created. A demand for blemish-free, out-of-season food creates an unwanted series of events that end up affecting people’s health. Theirs and ours.

Conflicts of interests are never fun to solve, but we ought to when children’s health, and human health is general, are at risk.

It comes down to the silly yet relevant ‘How do you eat an elephant?’ and the cheeky answer: ‘One bite at a time.’ Perhaps that’s the way the pesticide issue should be addressed as well, starting with our community.

Decreasing the amount of pesticides children are exposed to has to be addressed. From purely cosmetic use, such as lawn maintenance, which is another source of exposure for children and pets alike, to agricultural use.

Encouraging community gardening, supporting local farmers – we are blessed with many – through the farmer’s market and, ultimately, creating the link between needs and abundant, seasonal produce that can become a source of good nutrition for those with limited resources are but a few ways to reduce exposure even further.

There is no shortage of creativity and good intentions when it comes to food and keeping a community healthy. As they say, when there is a will, there is a way…

When Home Is Spelled With a K

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On May 1, 2014

In Armchair Mayor Column, Kamloops, Life Stories

Views...We spent Easter weekend in Seattle with our extended family. We drove through the Okanagan, camped in Osoyoos waking up to a perfect mirror of a lake, drove alongside blooming orchards and passed through small towns that look like accent pillows thrown around.

We stopped for ice cream, we stop by antique shops, talked to people who have been collecting signs of the past since they can remember, and we stopped here and there by the side of the road just because.

We stayed in a suburb of Seattle, but went to visit the city one day.
It was dazzling. Wide ribbons of highways, some on the ground, some in the air, all tied up in knots you get to untangle once you live there long enough, peppered with cars of all sizes rushing this way and that. Did I say dazzling?

We visited the farmer’s market and walked around downtown just until the boys begged to go home. Rivers of cars streaming in the streets, bumping shoulders with countless people at the market and being parked on the K level of a A to P parking lot proved too spicy a dish for us all.

Seattle is a big city, we knew that of course. We know of big cities from living in Vancouver until two years ago.

I want to believe that every city, no matter how big, has pockets of neighborhood that create the small town feel (maybe?) because deep down everyone connects that way with the place they’re in. Yet even with that hope in mind, the thought of suddenly being thrown into a city that size and having to live there a while made me feel uneasy.

Perhaps I’ve become a bit spoiled by the comforting lull, still vibrant but on a different scale, of life in Kamloops.

And for good reasons.

Most times I walk to downtown I am bound to run into someone I know. I may not know their but we know of each other.

Farmer’s market season will start soon and I will see many familiar faces I’ll keep on seeing all summer. We will talk to people the always we always have and get to know more than the price of goodies they sell. As one should.

We often forgo our cowboy-coffee-on-sun-splashed-porch ritual and opt for a coffee shop in town and it is always a treat. In most coffee shops we visit, I know we will see familiar faces; owners, baristas and customers.

We know of their life, they know of ours. We talk, catch up on the latest and say ‘see you later’ knowing we’re not saying it because how else can you end a conversation.

We will see them later because the place we live in is small enough that neither of us will go unseen.

There’s comfort in it.

There’s a mesh of good warm feelings that grows around you when you get to know the place you’re in and the place is small enough for you to be more than a rushed pair of legs or two sets of wheels, respectively.

And just like that, there’s nothing wrong with choosing to live in a big city either. As they say, to each their own. In the end, it’s about coming to know where you feel most at home and why.

I’ve lived in many big cities since leaving my hometown, similar in size and appearance to Kamloops, at the age of 18. It was fascinating at times, it was frustrating too, it was exciting and then it was tiring.

The rushed rhythm of the big city was, more or less, in sync with my own rushed lifestyle (which was rushed because I was in a big city, some could argue.) Following life’s fluid ways I got to visit smaller communities and knew right away that I’ll never return to the big city.

It takes going places to realize where you want to be the most and it takes going to places loud enough to barely hear your thoughts to actually hear them loud enough.

Last but not least, gratefulness to realize that you’re in a good place. Imperfect at times, but real is like that. Charming too.

Joy In Routines? Here’s Why

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On April 29, 2014

In Life Stories, Motherhood, Self-improvement

Soon to beThe morning had no particularities unless you count the half-an-inch added to the tiny marigold plants in the front yard.

Write, get the boys up, get their lunches ready, take them to school. Come back, coffee time on the porch, back to writing.

Routines fragment the day into segments that make it feel familiar and also grow on top of each other as you approach the end of the day, giving you a full measure of where your time went.

If you’re not in a good place, soul uneasy with the action of being, routines are like heavy metal pins nailing you to a ground you do not want to be walking on.

But if you’re in a good place, where you soul resides without frowning, then routines have a magic message written all over them: Life is unshaken. Life where you are is not uprooted by any groundbreaking events. Routines mean you’re safe.

Routines change with time. Growing children, people coming in and out of your life, routines evolve, get dusty, fall to pieces and then they grow into new ones,

But their mere existence is the sign you want, the sun that guides your life with no eclipse shadowing its face. It’s a temporality we’re guilty of misplacing though.

A friend wrote today about his critically ill father. It has come down, and suddenly so, to making the best of the time they still have together. Life is fragile, he wrote. It is, I echoed. It always is.

I let it sink in.

Life as we know it could change at any time. It is not pessimism to think so. Nor is it an invitation to live in fear.

Live. With all that you have. Laugh with your loved ones, share time with them, with friends, with people who mean something to you.

Never wait. Never make concessions on waiting. You’ll always get the short end of the stick. Time, even shorter than it is, because you used it to chew your own misery, your relentless negative thoughts, your fear to connect, to live, to live fully with the awareness that you’re opening a gift with every breath you take. You are.

Still there...Life is fragile… Fluid. There is no going back.

To live without regrets is not to live mindlessly but to take each morsel of life and taste it. Mindfully present in everything you do and say, in how you share yourself with those you love and love you. Fully. No regrets, never holding back.

I thought of my friend’s dad all day. He will be on my mind for many days. Thoughts, prayers, wishes for being at peace.

Will you, when you’re sitting near that gap that divides our world as we know it from the one we don’t know? If someone will be holding your hand, will they be at peace? Or will there be pockets of unsaid restlessness, life unlived, life gifts you never got to open because you thought you shouldn’t, or you didn’t want to? You saved for later…

Later…Will it come? Would you build a home leaving holes in the walls that are supposed to keep you warm and protected… Would you add those bricks later because now you’re apprehensive, forgetful, mindless, cheeky (yes, we are,) overconfident that later is tomorrow and if not we’ll make it so.

Can you? Can I?

The solid ground I walk on today are routines. Walk back from school, chat, debate, listen, encourage, smile, hug, listen some more because things have to be said again and again, for safety and comfort. Kids’ words pearled up in colliers of worry, and you polish them to a nice safe shine. Every day, the routine of love and providing peace of mind.

Make food, eat, shoo away silliness when it’s teeth brushing time, hugs, say the soft words that you say every night, again and again, pearls of comfort and warmth.

Nighttime drapes, send the photo newsletter, remember where the photo was taken, right near that warning the boys find funny… ‘Uneven terrain, watch your step.’ They snicker, every time… Who would trip on that?

Both worldsSome would, I tell them. Some don’t need to be told, some will trip as they read the very words… Warnings we never heed. We know better when we don’t. But then we don’t know much anymore when we’re stopped mid-flight, plunging suddenly and not knowing how deep in.

We will rely on the senses we forgot to use a while ago, we’ll have them revived and sharpened by pain, surprise; we’ll be understanding the meaning of it all. Time. When we had it.

We still do. What now?

Tomorrow, routines again. It’ll mean nothing has changed. I am safe. Aware. Mindful.

You?

 

This Is Also Part Of Life

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On April 24, 2014

In Armchair Mayor Column, Life Stories, Self-improvement

(Originally published as a column in the AM News on Friday, April 18, 2014.)

Passing...It is the part of life that many of us only whisper about and parents often try to keep children protected from. Mine did. Because it hurts. But hurt is also part of life. Better processed when you’re not trying to make sense of it on your own as a kid, or dragging its shadows into adulthood.

I was six years old when my beloved maternal grandmother died suddenly. Something went wrong during a routine surgical operation that was meant to be just a couple-of-days-in-the-hospital procedure. I never got to say goodbye and no one else did because no one knew of what was to come.

When I was nine, my paternal grandfather passed away. I loved him dearly and had no clue about the long illness he was battling or about his impending death. I never got a chance to say goodbye.

As taxing as that would have been, it could’ve provided the kind of closure we need in order to process such events with grace.

My paternal grandparents died a few years later, and goodbyes were not said that time either.

My mom passed away suddenly eight years ago and though there was no typical goodbye, there was a premonitory conversation that included a farewell that had both closure of some sort and a good lesson in it.

My dad has been chronically ill for many years now and I have been given enough time to say some of the things people should say.

I had time to think of life as it slips away and appreciate its richness, its bittersweet flavor and its colorful shreds as I am trying to put them together to make sense of the tapestry we keep on weaving with every day that passes.

With my sons, I choose to celebrate both life and death. Choking on some words as they try to build themselves into sentences that describe life, understanding that they are becoming the very foundation we have to build today and all the tomorrows on, but most of all learning that appreciation of every day and of people we have around us can only be tangible if we are aware of both life and death as we go.

Withholding the reality of death from children is like not telling them of night because it brings darkness.

Giving ourselves and our children a chance to understand death and accept it helps us all appreciate life and better our ways as we go. It’s when we forget about the finality of it all that we can take it for granted.

My sons often play the game of ‘If you could have three magic powers, what would they be?’ and the one power I keep on pushing away from is to be immortal. It would make everything less worthwhile, I tell them.

They are puzzled every time. But think of all the things you get to do and never be afraid it all ending, they try to convince me.

But fear is, for once, an element that adds to life, I tell them.

If we choose to acknowledge it, it can guide us towards being grateful for every day as it comes and goes, and for people as they adjust their steps to match ours or walk in that tap-tapping cadence we share as we go through life, for as long as we do.

Awareness of an impending finality is what makes life precious. No season that lasts forever can bring the kind of joy that seasons as we know them do. Or sunsets. Or watching a child grow or sharing precious times with our loved ones.

We are strong in how we carry ourselves through life, in how we overcome challenges and in how we face new ones.

Knowing that everything ends somewhere adds the kind of humbleness that makes the journey worthwhile.

In building farewells as we go, we embrace time and people with all the gusto one can have knowing that we only have a limited time to make it happen. To make it last long after we’re gone. Because it will, as the ones we leave behind will carry it forward and make the best of it. Life, that is.

The Truth About Earth Day

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On April 22, 2014

In Environment, Self-improvement

LifeI woke up to rain and cloud-shrouded hills. I remembered it was Earth Day because yesterday we had a conversation about it.

Lights at school will be switched off during lunch time because it’s Earth Day, the boys announced. They found it funny. Why only at lunch time? Why only on Earth Day and why would we make such a big deal out of something we should do without any prompting anyway? Since we trot on the planet daily, switching lights on and leaving footprints bigger than life, it would make sense to have an Earth Day daily celebration policy.

At least people are reminded of it, you could argue. At least one day. It counts. Better than nothing.

But is one day enough? Is the green message of today strong enough to last for an entire year and are we earthlings determined enough to help the planet from today onward breathing in the oomph of a glorious Earth Day?

I have my doubts. Being the Earth Day Grinch is not about being negative, far from it. It is, as always, about scratching the surface to see is if there’s continuity in Earth-saving beliefs and practices once April 22nd comes to an end.

The way I see it, unless we follow up with lifestyle changes and see climate changes addressed, celebrating Earth Day with much fanfare seems a bit hypocritical.

GreenSharing beautiful photos and shedding emerald-green tears on April 22 of every year is sweet, but not even remotely enough to change things.

If it’s Earth Day, let’s make it so. No ‘freebies with your purchase,’ no ‘5 dollars off Earth Day coupon’ or ‘enter Earth Day promotional code at checkout.’

It is important (vital?) to stall the big machinery that produces consumer goods at a rate that would overwhelm not just one planet – it does! – but several, should we have the luxury of planet backup to begin with (we don’t.)

Last year, the Conference Board of Canada released a report that revealed the amount of garbage generated by each citizen: a shift-in-your-seat 777 kg/person. What’s worse, the garbage mountains have been growing steadily since 1990.

Sure we know why. Manufacturing goes through the roof, marketing is a beast made even harder to resist with our rushed lifestyle, and …well, the cradle-to-grave concept makes no sense when every year new models slightly different than last year’s roll in with that addition that somehow we never wanted but now we crave…

But this is not sustainable. What then?

Have the echoes of all the well-intended Earth Day celebrations eluded us?

What are we doing wrong, other than refusing to accept a truth that shows itself in many shapes and repeatedly so, in a zig-zag of weather and climate torment that we will never be ready for no matter how many emergency kits we stack near the entrance.

SomberThe planet has been increasingly more affected by global warming since that first Earth Day in 1970 and, according to Time magazine, many more of us have joined the ranks of climate change skeptics. In other words, it ain’t happening because we find it hard to believe it’s really happening.

Reminders to celebrate Earth Day are sure helpful, but what about tomorrow? Or two weeks from now? Three months down the road?

Sticking to one day a year will not do anymore. Nor will sticking to planting a tree or turning the tap off while brushing teeth. Curbing the non-renewable resource dependency needs to happen and fast. We need to act all grown-up and implement bigger changes if we are to celebrate Earth Day in earnestness.

Once...The question is: will there be enough time to make up our minds by the time Earth Day celebrations roll in next April 22? And next?

From a human point of view we will have enough time to plan fun games, swap spectacular photos and say wow, and organize community events that will remind us all of how lucky we are to have such a beautiful place to live. Because we are.

Problem is, we are not the ones to have the last word. Our planet will. In face of climate change and imminent global warming, we need to have the humbleness to recognize that and act accordingly…

As I finish writing this rain pounds over the garden and the new crop peeks from muck, soon to grow into lush green rows. We’re still safe for now. Seasons follow each other the way they always have, but fear is there too.

Can that be the wind in our wings? Let’s hope so…  Make it a happy Earth Day! Today, tomorrow and every day after that. Make it last.

 

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