Author: Daniela Ginta Page 67 of 99

The world as we know it cannot stand without them. Not for long anyway. By now everyone knows about Edward Snowden and his stepping forward to denounce the US government violation of the American citizens’ liberties, shall we say human rights perhaps, or that is still to come… He has been called both a hero and a traitor.

I stuck with hero from the beginning, not an ounce of doubt that he wasn’t, and he is the kind that doesn’t come around very often. His deep-rooted motivation, the very foundation he built his decision on, was, he explained in an interview, the fact that he could not live with knowing about it and not acting in a way he believed responsible. He exposed hypocrisy, he said.

There are rumours of him being extradited and trialed by the US judicial system, there are rumours of him searching for political asylum in Iceland, and then there are rumours of him getting in a lot of very very deep trouble. No one knows at this point, so while signing a petition to back him up is important, we also have to keep an eye on what will happen to him regardless.

But I have to use this opportunity to ask: How many things are you aware of that are not ethical, good for people, or are downright harmful and how many are you ready to denounce? What’s at risk if you do? Will you risk it?

Edward Snowden stepped forward to blow the whistle on something he considers unacceptable and hypocritical and though some many argue that his act could be interpreted as betraying his own country, there is a high number of people who think the opposite and for a reason. It is not betrayal, but the highest form of the patriotism when you stand by your country and its values, that ones that are stated for all to hear, rather then the questionable acts that happen behind closed doors.

Denouncing wrongness, and not anonymously, is an act of great courage. Denouncing any kind of wrongness and standing up for what’s right and ethical, not for money but because we feel that otherwise we could not live with ourselves is what all people should do. Is what children should learn from their parents and educators and all the influential people they come in contact with. I’d say it is possible when there are no conflicting interests of any kind. Would that only be possible in a perfect world?

The way I see it, as long as there are people who care, the world is perfect.

The boys had wicked smiles on their faces when I picked them up after school and Sasha held high a piece of paper for me to see.

“It’s a license to be happy,” he explained with a grin. “A lady came into our classroom today and gave one to each kid.”

He found it rather funny. Tony too. Who can give people licenses to be happy? They had been learning about feelings every now and then at school and that was alright, we all thought, though they were scandalized by a certain feeling that was presented to them as a legitimate one and defined as “ready to learn.” How could that be, they asked.

You can say we’re smug that way, but we talk about feelings a lot you see – yep, we think it acceptable in our house that contains wild rambunctious boys and all, or because of it. We chat about feelings, and do it old school style: you can feel happy, angry, sad, anxious, scared, but we all agreed that being ready to learn is a state of the mind and that’s that.

But license to be happy? I have always told the boys that happiness can only come from within ourselves. And it’s not easy to make it happen either. But if you let others be in charge of your happiness chances are you’ll end up unhappy. it might be that the ones you put in charge might not even know they are in charge of your feelings cargo to begin with.

I choose to see that license for what it is: A piece of paper with some colors on it. Come to think of it, the boys’ drawings are, most times, way more colorful. A sign of happiness if you ask me. Not that I think happiness should be a permanent state. Like all good things, too much can leave us slightly numb…

And slightly less able to know, and believe, that one’s happiness does not depend on anyone, nor should anyone else make theirs our responsibility. As finicky and volatile as it is, happiness is a worthy thing to discover and make happen. No license required. It’s implied. Thoughts?

A couple of weeks ago SPCA called for donations from the public for $2000, money that was needed to operate a large tumor on a dog.

That’s a large sum of money, I thought, and a few days later I saw that people went above the needed amount and $5000 were raised instead. The rapidity to raise the money was truly impressive.

Out of the $5000, approximately $2000 was used for the tumor. Out of what was left, $1000 was used to pay for the amputation of a cat’s leg and the rest for some much needed items at the SPCA.

I love animals, I always have. I had a dog, she was beautiful and amazing in her patience when she listened to all the whines and sighs of teenager me; she was sweet in her playfulness when we ran through high rained-on grass with complete disregard for muckiness or green stains.

She had a tumor that was removed but then a year later it came back with a vengeance. She died with her head on my dad’s lap, on the old bench under the grapevine. I was away at university and when I came home that time, I went and sat by the walnut tree in the garden. My dog was buried there.

I understand the need to help save an animal’s life. We have to. Yet in doing so, I always wondered why professionals would not donate their time and expertise for such things.

I am not preaching from a high pulpit either. I volunteered for four years for the Autism Society of BC, I kept doing it even after the program was retired due to lack of funds and I did it during a two-month long transit strike and with no car. A good long walk and the hope of a smile waiting on the other side. I know about going the extra mile.

As I read about the funds raised for these fortunate animals, I could not help but think of some of the kids from my sons’ school. They go to school hungry quite often, other times they go to bed hungry. Hunger is often forgotten because they have more complicated issues to deal with. Some are barely five.

There are single parents in my sons’ school and beyond, who can barely get by. Often times, I was told, the inability to provide financially and thus show that their kids are cared for, causes the children to be removed and placed in foster care where a steady monthly fare makes for better care. The willing but financially burdened parent has no fault.

Sure we have the food bank, we have other charities striving to provide. But needs persist. So with all due respect to pet owners and all people dedicated to improve the life of animals, I have to point to what seems like a shift in priorities.

Children should always come first. All needy humans should too, but for the sake of a little girl with blue eyes that sometimes comes to school hungry but with a wickedly sweet smile still attached to the corner of her mouth – for now, I will say children should come first.

What if the animals would be cared for free-of-charge by willing professionals and the money that would otherwise be used to pay for surgery and treatment would be put towards buying food for hungry children. Or clothes, or toothbrushes, or shoes that fit.

Children do not ask to be born. But we bring them into the world and some meet adversities from very early on. They see domestic abuse, they take care of those even younger than them and they go hungry one too many times.

Many are forgotten or left behind, and by no one’s fault in particular but rather a collective one, and for some little ones simple things like hot chocolate become a luxury they only dream about… Yet still, when asked about wishes, their wish for the presence of their parents tops the list.

We cannot fail these children and allow others to come into suffering. We have to provide all that we can for them, as often as we can and as much as we can. From food, to financial help for the parents who struggle, to making sure enough professionals are available to help children and their caregivers with emotional issues, no matter how big, we cannot fail them.

Given enough successful fundraising and willingness to help, and I know there is a lot, there should be enough to help children, their needy families and suffering pets too. But priorities should never shift. Human life is sacred, period. So is a child’s smile and lightheartedness.

So here’s my thought: Let’s put some money aside for the hungry children that walk around this city at this very moment. Say $5000 or so. A bold thought, I know, but bold is what makes it happen.

Because time passes and there is only that much time for children who don’t have it easy to learn about kindness and know that someone cares. Just in case they stumble later on. They might not though. Not if we do something now. From food, to toothbrushes and shoes, to cuddles and a willing heart, they can have it all and feel welcomed in this world. Let’s not fail them.

(Originally published as a column in the Saturday edition of the Kamloops Daily News, on June 8 2013)

I grew up looking at people for how I appeared to the world. My parents, my dad especially, would always bring out the “What will people say if you did this or that…” and when you hear it enough times you start questioning yourself. He did that to himself too, I am sure.

But when you do that,you become unsure. We are programmed to look for approval as it is. Children try to please their parents and they try to please their friends in order to be accepted. To some extent it is a good thing. We live with people so jumping like crazed frogs all over the place and not minding the consequences of our actions is not what people should do.

But if you’re not careful you look at everyone for an assessment of your actions and yourself in general. Some people may give you an accurate, honest opinion and always with your best interest at heart, others will judge and point their finger at you.

Ideally, the ones whose opinion we mind should be the ones who, while pointing at shortcomings, will also foster the ability to empower us to shake them off, will tell us or signal with their embraces  that we ought to love ourselves even more for that unique combination of thoughts and emotional twirls and ways of seeing the world that we are.

The problem is, we often define ourselves and our worth by looking at the wrong people. Not wrong in what they are and who they are for themselves, but wrong in their position of influencing our world.

Acceptance of ourselves and the ability to carry ourselves towards being the best we can be (how cliché but how true that we aim for that, that being the good destination of every day and the reason we are able to wake up with hope) comes from within but also from how those close to us define us.

The boys often wonder how the world sees them. They fear appearing ridiculous and I tell them they should not let people define who they are. They should only allow the ones who love them to do so; the ones who understand their fire and their drive to embrace the world standing upside down at times, or crookedly so – but who can give the whole measure or definition of crooked anyway. Crazy as they may seem in their passion for the things that power their inner beings, in their joy, in their tears and all that spunk they have and dare to share, they need to believe they are amazing and worth it.

The problem is, they won’t, not always. Often they’ll be crushed by a word, by someone judging them, by someone attempting to play with their most vulnerable soul patches. I am telling them of the importance of being real, of being who you are, so that people can have the right coordinates of you when you are part of their landscape. But that will carry with it the risk of them being hurt, because they will not have a custom-made facet that they present to the world, so when trashed or tainted they can just put another one on, a clean one, and move on.

They will be hurt, I know they will. But they will learn to care for themselves too, to be strong and to pick themselves up when no one is there to help them, but also to be kind in defining other people’s worlds, to be careful, to not judge. They will learn the importance of trust by having theirs shattered at times.

And after and during all that learning, they will be able to keep a steady course. And able to see why we need to first of all turn inwardly when defining who we are.

They will learn all of this and never be afraid or ashamed of being who they are. They will know to embrace their own fire and though they will embrace the world standing upside down at times, or crookedly so – but who can give the whole measure or definition of crooked anyway, they will know they’re onto something good. Because when you are real, you are.

The wind picked up as we were making the fire. A few minutes into it, we had dancing flames and also a glimpse into how quickly the wind makes the fire grow. Fascinating but scary.

We talk about fire bans, forest fires and the punishment for the people who start them. “What if they didn’t mean to?” the boys ask. It makes no difference, we tell them. Grown-up world is a different one, you know… You ought to know some things by then.

We’re camping by a small lake under a canopy of grey clouds. It’s been a finicky few days, with a peek-a-boo sun and a few rain splashes. But the boys insisted and we gladly agreed.

We put the canoe on the water and get the tent up. The wind blows the tent fly in all directions at all times, always in the opposite direction of where you want it to go, but two pairs of hands make it happen.

We go for a paddle in what we rightfully assume to be the sunset. The sun is only to be guessed, you see, as it is stretched into a thin orange layer behind the clouds. A bird lands in the middle of the lake and starts calling out to some peers. It sounds like laughing. The boys are laughing too; echoes of life.

We slide on the water over submersed logs wrapped in old soggy moss. The water is shallow and clear and the bottom is undisturbed. I touch it lightly with the paddle and create a short-lived muddy havoc.

A few fish jump and make us think dinner. Breakfast? Neither? Soon, very soon then…But the worms, the boys ask, that must be very uncomfortable for them. A first introduction to the greater good dilemma draws question marks on the boys’ faces. We’d be earning our food, too, we tell them, so there.

We tour the lake and explore a swamp at the far end. Back swimmers play water chess on the surface, gliding swiftly from side to side and we are mesmerized, yet again, by how they bend the water.

We return to the campsite and the boys get busy carving sticks for sausages and marshmallows. They chat about things that happen at school, they ask about the summer and whether we can camp every weekend this summer. Messy hair, muddy knees and shivery little bodies all happen at the same time.

We feed the fire to a nice roasty heat and the shivering stops. It’ll be a cool night but that’s when you have the best sleep. We camped in minus eight in the Kootenays in early spring and lived to tell the story.

Two of the sausages roll in the coals but the boys fish them out. Five second rule need not apply in the middle of nowhere, right? In fact, that’s one of the appeals of camping. Rules go mysteriously missing as soon as we squeeze in the car along with tent, sleeping bags, paddles, fishing rods and all the paraphernalia that even the most dedicated minimalists can’t avoid when camping.

Then we make s’mores. Stickiness spreads from cheeks to chins to fingers and tummies. Faces and coals are glowing the same and we’re but a droplet of orange warmth with voices pinching the thick darkness that has grown around us. It’s almost 10 and the wind picks up again. “Bedtime?”

Not yet. Scattered clouds reveals a starry smile and in that glitter we find the memory of another starry night a few months ago on a frozen lake, not far from this one. We feel rather smug about not being so new here, now that we carry around a handful of “remember when we went to…” slices of life in our heart pockets.

We get ready for the night and huddle together inside the wind-flapped tent like four chubby caterpillars. Coyotes howl long in the distance. The place it’s theirs, we know that. “Are there bears here too?” The boys ask, pretend to be all scared and then we proceed to tell stories about bear encounters.

Ten minutes later, after a few muffled giggles and yawns, sleep is spreading its soft wings all over our sticky faces.

In the morning the giggles resume and we take our sweet time in leaving our warm cocoons. The boys look for frogs and play a boy game that involves sticks and hiding.

In the meantime, behind an old stump I find a most astonishing thing: a fairy’s slipper. Singular and purple, it makes one grow quiet with awe. Gently so, its petals push up into the sky and we name it The Most Beautiful Flower We’ve Ever Seen.

Before we put the canoe on the car rack we go for a late morning paddle. The laughing bird takes its place in the middle of the lake and is laughing again. So long then, see you on another lake perhaps?

(Originally published as a column in the Saturday edition of the Kamloops Daily News on May 25, 2013)

If you could choose, where would you be?

If you could choose, what would you love to do?

If you could go where you really want to go, how soon would you leave?

From where you are right now, look around and also in that only-known-to-you place inside yourself, and tell me: Are you where you want to be? Are you doing what you want to do? Are you with the people you could not be without?

And if you say no, how far back do you have to go to find the roots of that no? Did you choose a no from the beginning because you told yourself you won’t follow any dreams, or you just stepped out into the world holding a dream like children hold kites, and it got all tangled up and then you dropped it because others said it’s too hard to untangle it and even if you do, the wind might not be there by the time you’re ready to go again…Did you go from making your own path – and not even thinking you’re making one after, because you were flying your colorful kite, and joy allowed you to go far and be strong because that’s what joy does – to being told you have to follow a path that’s already there? Whose path? Did you ask? Did it matter?

We follow paths that are there just because some people (or many) walked them before us. They called them the right ones, and we dare not say otherwise. The paths we follow feel the opposite at times; sharp disobedient thoughts sprout, carrying all those gut feelings that may not agree with the beaten path. They poke through and scare us to a halt. Don’t walk here, there is nothing here. The sides are bare, better go back to your own…They urge us to stop, to look around, to be honest.

Stop? Now? Stubborn thoughts grow like thick trees with many branches we don’t know how to climb and don’t dare believe we can learn. So we cut them down and tie them with thick silent ribbons. There. Then we keep going. Silly thoughts, trying to make you stray…But what if the thoughts are right? What if? Ah, just cold flutters that try to stop you, they happen, people say. They happen to everyone, they say… Keep going.

But is everyone happy then? Yes, no. It’s hard to see the truth in mirrors that copy each other. Which one reflects the truth, there are so many… Ah, just pick one. Is it a game? Hide-and-seek? Yes, with yourself, the silly thoughts point out. Hush again, let me look in that mirror. And you see what you’re told you have to see.

Because when you want to see things a certain way, you tilt your head until they look like that. You might be upside down and hurting, but you keep at it because everyone else does it. Or so it seems. You look at it and say yes, it is like that, and pretend to not know the truth. But you see, even blind people who’ve never seen faces in their lives, they can “see” faces. They feel them with their fingers and know what the face looks like. They trust their fingers to see for them. Even if you’ve never seen the path, your real one, you’ll know what it looks if you dare let the fingers of your soul “see” it for you.

But to dare… We follow paths that don’t hug our soul. Instead of soothing our fears with the joy they allow us to have along the way, they feed it and make it into a wild mean beast we drag along; one that we try to run away from but pretend to be too slow to do it, and we let ourselves be bitten by it once more…Until one day when the wild beast bites too deep, or too soon after the old wound barely closed and then the pain makes you stop. If you take the time to be mad at the wild thing that’s biting your hands, and if you take the time to care for your wounds, then you might just have time to look around.

You don’t quite know where you are, you’ve come a long way. Why are you there? Is there another way? Better, harder but truer? Is there a how to? Where does one start? The beast you dragged along, you let it go. The many knots that tie your fear to your soul, you dare to hold them up and peek at their inelegant mess; most scary. Where to from here? Sigh,cry, stomp your feet, but no more knots please. You hold them up and the sun peeks at your soul right through them. Warmth feels right. Now you know how messy the knots are, but you also know that sun can kiss your soul through that mesh of fear. Rain could get it soft and manageable until the knots fall off. You know that.

Then you walk around. Light and brave, you go off the path, into a place where you’ve never been before. And if you give yourself enough time to smell the air, and enough courage to listen to that part of you that speaks the only language for which you do not need a dictionary, you might just remember the truth of the journey you started a long time ago…

The journey that started with a dream. Or many. You dreamed of where you’d go if one day you could, you dreamed of what you’d be doing if one day you could, you had joy and you knew that it would be worth it. You were ready to cut your own path and make your own music and you didn’t care that you did not know how to or that it might get tough. That was part of it. You were ready. But then someone said that’s crazy, what a waste of time. Take this path, they said, no need to build wings when you can walk. So you took the path.

But if you did, was it the right one? Right and wrong are but rigid measuring sticks, you say. The question is: Does it feed your soul? Where you are now, what you do, the starting of each day? Does it? Is the path you’re on the one you’d choose if you could choose all over again?

If you could choose all over again, would you choose to do what you do now?

If you could choose where to be, would you be where you are now?

If you could choose, what would you choose? Would you really?