Gratitude makes the journey better. Kindness, too.

Author: Daniela Ginta Page 62 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.

This Is How It Starts

Just do itWe asked them “Do you want to try it on your own?” They both said yes. Not a blink of “maybe.”
They grabbed paddles, bulked themselves up with life jackets and cut a path through the lily pads. A canoe, all for themselves.

They sway, they scream, they laugh, they give each other sailing names and they promise to come back in a few minutes.
At first they paddle along the shores though the lake is calm. Cautious but itching to go. They hop on the shore a few times, docking the canoe with the the nonchalance of canoe veterans. It’s charming to watch.

They come on the log where we sit, a long arm the shore has extended into the lake, a reminder of how the ground and the water will always be entwined.

“Mom, a snail shell for you!” My boys’ gifts, seen and unseen. Treasures.

The sky is light blue in preparation for another sunset. They hop into the canoe, ready for take off, and become two red specks in a their own special green lily pad. Laughter from afar slides over the water and climbs like a vine around my soul.

With every thread of water they carry over the surface of the lake, the boys are growing up… They laugh, learn and float into a world that has them thirsty for adventure.

Night paddleThey signal their first ever crossing of a lake by themselves. “We made it!” Yes, you have. And so much more. Keep going. No, come back! How could I ever get this right? I want them to learn, to dare, but to be safe. To be near. For now. For ever. Somehow, they will be. Their voices will trail back to my soul no matter how far they go. So keep going, the world awaits!

Life Is A Train, And You’re On It

From here to thereIt’s true. I dare you to say otherwise. You are on this train from the moment you are. Whether you ride with your head buried in a seat – in which case you miss most of it, or all – or you occasionally climb to the very top from where you see the mountains and the seas you roll by, you are on it and will be there for a while.

When you put your head out the window you get to feel the wind, the sun will burn your cheeks and then a storm might come and build a wild nest with your hair. You’ll know the taste of seasons… You will feel alive.

Thoughts will grow, take off flying, free and forgetful of how new their wings are, how pristine the air they plow, how daring those loop-the-loops are… If you let them be. If you let yourself be.

Life is a train. It moves fast, but it stops every now and then, and you get time, more or less, to touch the ground, to see around, to lie in tall grass and breathe. You get to see the sky and the clouds. Until you hop on the train again, because it is time to go. It always is. Time is adamant that way. You hop on the train, but now you hold the memory of blue skies and traveling clouds, and you find a new purpose for a while: to see them again. And again.

TrueYou find the ladder that takes you to the roof of the train car you’re in. And people – there could be one, or a few, or many – might say “Don’t do that, it’s dangerous, you could fall…” And you know that you will not, somehow you know. You know you will get to see the skies again, the traveling clouds and you will try to match that to what you knew about skies and clouds you knew only to discover that it’s better every time, because you’ve grown in the meantime. You understand colors and textures and freedom of being a lot more every time. And up there you remember the tall grass you were lying in that day when you got to see the clouds. How soothing and necessary to have them both, you will think. To know that you are somewhere in between the grassy dirt and the sky, safe from closed spaces and unafraid…

Life is a train. You can bury yourself in a seat forever, never daring to get up and look for more, seeing fragments of this and that only, gleaning colors and fleeting images of this and that, trying to put that big puzzle called “The meaning of life” together, but fragments will not do. It gets frustrating and when it does, you know that you have an invitation in front of you.

To look for the rest of the pieces that will make your puzzle complete and that means stepping out of that comfortable seat and keeping your eyes open. Or you can get up just enough to force the window open and feed the invitation to the wind.

Life is a train and you’re on it. Make the best of your ride. Be curious, be daring, be open to feel the wind and the rain; to see the moon, to never be afraid of moon-less nights and, to taste the freedom of sleeping under the stars at least once. You might get to taste the fear of almost falling off when you’re only holding on with one hand; it’ll teach you to hold on.

All the wayAbove all, you will find out that though you are the only one to decide how tomorrow will be – true! – you are not in control of the train. And why would you? Being in charge of it all is an illusion. You are in charge of the day’s ride, and tomorrow’s. And the days to follow. Yours. You. Buried in a seat or climbing to the roof every now and then. Life happens and you’re in it. Perhaps that is all you need to know to make the ride worthwhile.

 

Prolonged Teenage Years: Fact Or Fiction?

Kids grow fast. People will tell you that when you show up in the world holding your new bundle of joy.

You get to see it yourself as scrunched little faces bloom into toothless sweet smiles.

Kids grow, mind and body, and so do we alongside.

Then the world knocks and our kids run to the door. They peek, eyes growing wide. They hold onto us, ready to hide, should the world look too scary. We have the necessary grip, still; attachment and love create a magic potion.

The world is a big, wild place; we know that. Yet with the advent of new challenges like the Internet and its ever-growing multi-headed younger sibling, social media, we are facing the prospect of opening the door too fast for our kids, allowing them to step forth but not checking whether we’re perched on a ledge. Freefalls are nothing to joke about.

When my oldest was born, I was, like all moms, weak in the knees just by feeling his velvety little forehead and have his tiny fingers curl around mine. Cloud Nine became my permanent residence, sleepless nights notwithstanding. I was told, “Beware the terrible twos, it’ll get rough.”

Whether it was luck or enlightenment in how they were raised, we had no terrible-two storms raging through the house. Perhaps the negative connotation is something that creates the very storm we’re trying to find shelter from. Negative expectations mold themselves into real life, some believe.

While I am still wading in the warm waters of early years when innocence is not yet lost and silly laughs happen when I least (or most) expect it, the warning from the well-intentioned are as perky as ever.

It’s about the teenage years now. Brace for impact, they say. Based on my experience with the non-terrible twos, I may choose to celebrate rather than fear my sons’ impending transformation into men.

Yet, regardless of what I choose for my family, here’s my concern about all of our kids: If we fear the teenage years, why do we shove our kids forth by allowing them to be peeled of innocence too soon?

Why do we allow corporations to pull them into social networking before they’ve finished playing hide-and-seek in the backyard?

Why do we enable teenage-idol creators to tempt children with skimpy clothing, conflicting messages about how to be cool in a world where image counts but not the substance behind it?

Children are multi-dimensional beings. Now they’re being tempted to live in a bi-dimensional world — a sure way to lose depth.

Parents are still learning the ropes of the fast-evolving multi-faceted present-day world. The often-clueless state we find ourselves in is but a natural consequence of things moving fast. Trouble is, by the time we find our bearings our kids are long immersed in a world we’re just starting to learn about.

That most children become teenagers too soon is no longer news.

As if that was not enough to scratch our heads about, some psychologists and educators point toward an equally worrying new phenomenon: prolonged teenage years.

Many young adults become older adults while still living with their parents and in a state of teenage bliss way past the 20s threshold.

“No responsibility, no worries,” looked fuzzy-warm and funny in Lion King, but it is bound to give us cold shivers as we see our children grow up and indulge in a state that we used to have the habit of warning each other about.

It was a time of budding independence when hugs, while still needed, were becoming something you could let of as you would face the world as an almost adult. Budding independence went beyond handling a phone bought by your parents and used for texting at large and keeping the Facebook I.V. dripping at all times.

A declared optimist, I believe that honest dialogue, the oldest tool still standing, can still save the day and the ones to follow.

Between parents themselves, or parents and educators or other influential adults, and most of all parents and children, dialogue remains the best tool in understanding the world and acknowledging that often the guide becomes the guided one, for some of the portions that is.

The world changes constantly, ever-evolving and with new daily challenges, but society relies on the same old values to build itself strong such as reliability, trust, honesty and courage.

Just like every season has its role in maintaining life as we know it, so do developing stages in our growth as human beings. But they should start in a timely fashion and not go overtime either.

Originally published as a column in the Saturday edition of the Kamloops Daily News on September 14, 2013 under the same title.

Circles In The Sun

GoldenIt is a well-known fact that mid-September sun has the habit of glazing streets, trees and electric lines in a golden layer that almost turns too bright at around 6pm or so. The air is a golden warm fog that makes you think of being hidden in the fluffy wings of some gigantic gentle bird.

It was past 6pm when Sasha said he wants to take his bike out in the back lane for some tricks.

“Race you to the end of the block!”

Nah, not feeling it tonight. It was mellow, you see. The air, my thoughts, the noises trickling from the gold-glazed city. I was stitching the back lane with steps, pacing as to not let Sasha get too far on his own. Mama bear instincts are never mellow.

“Watch this, mom!” He swerves, too sharp, almost falls but what a save! Wicked little smile that admits to nothing and the turning, swerving and brushing by long dry back lane bushes continues.

His tanned calves sprouting from summer-bleached shorts are still tiny, just like his arms holding the handlebars determined and already strong. His rosy cheeks are lost in long golden hair and pinned forever to my heart. Just like his brother a few years ago, he celebrates growing up with grins of satisfaction “Did you see that?” I did, but no hurry. To grow up I mean… They never heed such requests. We have today.

The golden glaze of September…Just like when I was little, grabbing my bike and heading out to learn tricks and speed and all the things I was thinking I shouldn’t do, but wheels and that fragrant fall air made me do them anyway. The air smelled of ripe grapes and I knew I had left the wooden ladder just ready to climb on and grab some more purple sweet clumps on my way in.

Sasha traces smaller and smaller circles in the lane, his shade following like a puppy. When the circles get too small, the bike slides sideways and  knees get scraped. “I’ll never ride this bike again!” Stomping feet and angry little face leave the bike asleep in the middle of the lane, quiet and dusty.

We sit at the side under gigantic weeds that play some palm tree game. I fell many times, you know, I tell him. It is like that… He smiles. Trickster, he knows he cannot stop now. He loves it too much.

“I want to learn tricks and be really fast on my bike, you know.” I know. That’s all I wanted back then when the air promised grapes and warm nights still. I still do. He will too, I know. It’s like that.

A slight chill drapes over the golden city, streets and trees and all. We go in. In the oven, deep orange squash is roasting and promising soft sweetness. Fall has nothing sharp in it.

DuskWarm air curls around my feet like a sleepy cat. One of these days I will take my bike out for a ride, it’s been a while with a summer away and all. To trace my own circles. Fall has nothing sharp in it… It’s like that.

Half A Napkin. A Tribute

HeartJust like a lake and its floating green hearts… If the lake would be covered in waterlilies, you will not see the sparkling water holding the green hearts. You might miss the hearts, the clouds holding them, the water, the wonder of it all…

Overcast on a day when you wish for sun seems like punishment. Or a good excuse to hide in a coffee shop and find your way. Again. Life is like that. It likes tumbles when you don’t.

But that’s when you sit at a table in a coffee shop, your basket of life happenings by your side and your friend on the seat next to you. You take those life happenings, rags and all, and put them out on the table. They were all one piece a few days ago, you tell her. She knows. This needs no explanation.

A few sun rays escape through the clouds and land on the table. Life happenings. Yours, hers. You both know life would be no good without all of them.

Sulkiness does nothing. But you sulk until you know that. It takes a while. Years sometimes. Until you learn to use those rags life leaves you with and make a nice warm quilt and colorful skirts to taunt the rain and overcast days with…

You get bruised, you learn, you get up and walk again. Right? You ask, she nods; for a moment there you want to look dignified enough so she won’t think you don’t have it together. But she is not after that. Being proper has no place in a friendship. You are real, that comes first.

You peel words, raw as can be, off your bare soul and she’s there to lay them all in a pile that will later be used to patch the very wounds you speak of. It’s like chain mail. Everything holds together because you leave no piece behind. And why would you? It’s your life. Friends remind you of that. You know, the old “you are what you are because of all that’s happened along the way.” Don’t run away, you’ll have to come back to the same place. Only a lot more tired.

Friends help you see that. Own your life, your thoughts, yourself. You do that when you’re accepted in all that you are.

You are accepted by those you resonate with. Not a whole bunch of them, because you can’t really resonate with too many. The resonance in itself is a gift. You can’t abuse it or attribute it to just about anyone. You’d be dishonest. To them, to yourself.

If you have to cry, do it. Let go of holding your heart like a stiff bouquet of flowers. Sometimes you’ll tear up and look sideways because being vulnerable is still not your favorite place to be in. But you have to, she says. You’re not alone. She talks, shares, you listen. Her eyes become wells too. Life is often unkind, there’s many shared paths you walk on. Words fail where tears appear. Redundancy is forbidden. You don’t look sideways anymore. She picks up the napkin off the table, right from the sun puddle. Warm. She rips it in half. For you.

You just got someone’s heart, trust and half a napkin. Laughter plops its chubby feet into the sun puddle too. You laugh, you cry, you are alive.

By the time you leave the coffee shop the overcast will be done with. It will be either sunny and raining. The air will be lighter nonetheless. You’re lighter, and half a napkin richer.

You may forget to say thank you. Joy can be a wicked clown. Never mind, your soul spoke for you. But you know that. Your friends do too. Mine do.

 Just like a lake, you… If you had too many people to crowd the surface, it’d be hard to let your depth be seen…

 

All That Dirt…

CleanA few years ago, when shopping for natural laundry detergent, all you had to do was to hit the natural food store and grab a box.

If that was not available, Borax and washing soda were a staple in most neighbourhood grocery stores, so if your health or principles required a non-fragranced approach to dirty laundry, you could proceed without too much fuss.

Nowadays things are getting complicated.

My recent search for natural detergent took almost as long as searching for a book at the library.

There are many of these detergents, all boasting amazing cleaning power, naturally derived and packaged in 70 per cent recycled-content containers.

Some are manufactured by the companies that have been (and are still) filling shelves with regular detergents that may or may not kill fish. Same for cleaning products.

So much for baking soda and vinegar reigning the natural-cleaning realm.

One could argue that having choices is a good thing. Not only that, it is remarkable to see many people surfing the green wave and making environmentally conscious choices.

Just like growing clean food, producing affordable cleaning products and detergents with the least impact on health and the environment is no easy feat. Small companies struggle to compete with giants.

As for trust, this one is up for debate, but I choose to lean toward companies that have engaged on an environmentally sound path from the get go, including some good old homegrown Canadian ones.

Just like in people, character shows from the beginning. You cannot be a cop and a robber at the same time.

Why is this a big issue, you may ask? After all, we have oil spills and mines to worry about.

That may be, but it sometimes happens that we tend to overlook the little things that we have control over versus that ones where debates are flourishing and the power of decision is not ours alone.

I always say that we are responsible for each other’s well-being. My action and choices will influence your life, and the other way around.

The actions I have full control over —choosing what food to eat, what detergents to wash my family laundry with and the products to clean our home — are directly affecting the health and well-being of my family, but indirectly affecting yours as well.

To be preservedThe suds from every household end up in our communal lakes and rivers, just like the chemicals used in conventional agriculture.

It’s a big circle, really.

With an increased number of children and people with allergies, asthma and chemical sensitivities, making the right choices becomes vital. And if “right choices” sounds too cliché, perhaps it should be changed to “our own choices.”

Green washing is still a new concept and one that can easily go unnoticed. Awareness is key.

Having big companies that respond to market trends by producing environmentally friendly products is a good start, but environmental commitment cannot be achieved overnight.

It is important for consumers to know that we have the choice to shape the offer. We still do, that is. When we buy a product, be it food or a household item, we buy the impact of the company that sells it and its footprint that may or may not hurt a fish or more.

As always, when unsure, going back to basics is often the simplest and most affordable solution, economically and environmentally speaking.

Neighbourhood grocery stores will always sell baking soda, vinegar and good old washing soda. We — the consumer — shape their offer and that is the sign of a healthy, respectful commerce.

A model that has established a good reputation and its replication will benefit us all, you’ll have to agree.

Originally published as a column in the Saturday edition of the Kamloops Daily News on September 7, 2013 under the title “When we buy a product, we buy the impact of the company that sells it”

The Only Thing That’s Not Yours

Golden…is time.

You can let the day slip away and say at the end “What a weird day, I could get nothing done…” or you can seize every minute and use it to create joy. Through getting things done, work and life-wise. No pun on the latter.

You can start the morning right by being grateful for the day you’ve been given or you can mumble and grumble and pretend you have no reason to smile.

You have the power to create smiles or frown in the shortest window of time you are given, be it a minute, a morning or a day.

You can use the time you have with the people you choose to be by taming your words and ideas in a way that will create ripples of joy rather than sadness and anger. Time well used, makes your heart bloom and your mind swell with bright ideas. Or you can throw it all out, with utter disregard for the time you have been given to spend with someone, you can crumple all that time in a tight ball and throw it in a ditch of lost time and lost opportunities. A scary place indeed, and one that does not have to be. You make it be, or not.

You can sow thoughts and actions in the time you have, and know that you have been given the most fertile land of all. Untouchable, yet able to give you so much, that land will give you all if only you too give it all you’ve got.

Your thoughts are yours, your goals, your desire to make things happen, your choice to procrastinate or the decision to take a step. Or more. You have it all, except for one thing. Time. That is to borrow. A lease, if you will. But the one you can make the most of, if only you’d make your mind up to do so.

PS: I wish I could take credit for this, but it was the dried heads of tall end-of-summer grass, still green here and there, but slowly giving in to the fall slumber, only to offer themselves later on to winter; they reminded me of time, the most elusive treasure of all.

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