Daniela Ginta, Freelance Writer

Gratitude makes the journey better. Kindness, too.

Category: Kamloops Page 34 of 45

Raising Boys In A Factual World. Notes From Our School

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On October 19, 2015

In Environment, Kamloops, Learning, Life Stories, Motherhood, Self-improvement

sunIt’s Friday and sunny. Little boy has his midday piano class and the tune of ‘Hot cross buns’ flows around the living room and trails all over the house, chasing big brother outside where he can read ‘The story of science’ without any hot buns crossing his mind.

The topics of today were bones and the wonder of movement. We ran barefoot and then with shoes, we noticed how our heads and their content shook uncomfortably as we landed on our heels and then we discovered how the body knows what to do when you let it do its thing. Barefoot? Worth trying (though in Kamloops some running trails require some separation between you and cacti; they truly are merciless.)

Boys and sun chasing each other around the back yard, learning about feet, bones and joints, backbones and postures and why breathing and walking and feeling light in the head and heart are so intrinsically and magically related.

Why does it take more effort to sit with your back straight? Why does it get easier as you do it more?

We’re indulging in bad posture until we don’t notice anymore. But our bodies know what’s right. Slouching, bad attitude, giving up before you start, they are related. Can you slouch when you walk? Not for long. When you choose to have a good posture, your body becomes more flexible and your movement fluid.

Little boy says with confidence ‘Mom, I do not find skeletons creepy anymore. They really cannot stand or walk in real life, they just can’t since there are no joints…’ A perfect conclusion! Right in time for Halloween. Knowledge is power, now the boys see why.

The week was rife with learning: math, geometry, plant physiology, reading short stories and learning words. I love hearing the sweet impressions upon reading, I love seeing my boys’ thoughts come out in words that describe what they read and see while reading.

‘The description of pines covered in that first snow, Mom, I love reading descriptions like that because I can see it right in front of me…’ The love of books and stories is the one the boys will hold close forever.

worldGiftsWe learn of the place we live in through morning hikes. How much can you see on a given morning? They write lists upon returning: downy woodpeckers, red squirrel, magpies, robin, Saskatoon bushes, dried up arrow-leaf balsam root, kinnickinnick, juniper, bunchgrass, snowberries, prickly-pear, clouded sulphur butterfly, big leaf maple. I get gifts of beautiful rusty maple leaves.

Tomorrow we will see more or less. No two days are the same.

No day of learning is the same either. We learn about being kind, considerate, remember that one person’s perspective is but that: one person’s perspective. Facts take it from subjective to objective.

Facts of life. No judging, no assuming, no making someone self-conscious but allowing them to keep their dignity, as we keep ours, by stating facts and allowing space for people to find solutions.

For three days in a row, the boys snuggle together to read about the gold rush. They giggle, wonder at how it all happened and ask each other ‘would you have done it?’… Eyes rolling side to side, looking for the right answer, reading some more and … time to play outside. There’s so much of the day left still. Learning of a different kind, though playing and figuring things out, through seeing things that we learn about in our little school.

‘Mom, I can never look at leaves the same way. They are so much more than just leaves…’ Reverence.

‘Are we eating cells when we eat fruit and veggies just like that?’

togetherReverence makes room for humbleness. There’s so much to learn, yet it’s through the small steps that our minds dare take the greatest leaps towards places unknown. Curiosity. More learning… to open eyes, to reach hearts – our own in the first place, to understand that life is precious in all aspects of it.

To make moments, days, time with each other, with ourselves, with life itself, worth it.

Of Mice and Us. Take Two

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On October 15, 2015

In Kamloops, Life Stories

thatI once owned a mouse in Vancouver. She was actually a gerbil accused of unprovoked violence by her previous owners, cute and beady-eyed like any respectable rodent. She became the object of my compassion after I saw her gnaw at the metal bars of her cage with the desperation of the unfairly incarcerated. I said yes to host her for two weeks and then made her ours. A case of falling for a mouse.

I remember driving all the way to Surrey to get her a glass tank where she could play gerbil and hide in tunnels she could change the orientation of as she saw fit. I also looked far and wide for the proper bedding material.

Alas, that home was only her occasional residence. She found her way outside the tank one sunny afternoon and after that I figured we could have her as our free-range rodent as long as she would go in her quarters every now and then.

It worked, save for a few minor instances of mouse-wary friends screaming bloody murder as they saw her run across the kitchen floor. No need for a conversation starter as you can imagine.

She would come when I offered her food. Talk about bridging the species gap. We had good communication and, though she was a rodent (according to the Smithsonian’s Natural History Guide, a Mongolian jird, to be precise) I never associated her with… well, mice.

She had raised herself above the condition of a mere mouse by the virtue of responding when called upon and extending her little front paw to grab food as it was offered to her.

Fast-forward five years and I find myself owning mice again. Not by volition mind you, but by circumstance. We live in the shadows of two pine trees and near some wild tall grasses that hide small openings in the ground. Mice live there, little boy informed me one day. He found evidence to back up the occasional sightings: a mini skull, well preserved and interesting to look at.

Someone said ‘Be careful so they won’t come inside.’ I gave the thought some possibility but employed a plump supply of denial and optimism to get myself to ‘Nah!’ in no time. I stayed there in my cozy little denial corner until a gaze thrown lazily one morning into the cutlery drawer revealed the telltale signs of mouse invasion. The horror!

According to a charming book that used to be the boys’ favourite, ‘Little Mouse on the Prairie’ by Stephen Cosgrove, field mice resent the cold weather. Once you get past the cuteness of the big eyes (eye lashes included), you are presented with the reality of how much mice steer clear of the jolly season.

Yes, according to many sources, plus evidence at hand, field mice resent the cold weather and they try their best to escape it. A warm kitchen usually solves the chagrin. Ours in this case.

With evidence staring me in the face (yes, it did, from the jar lids drawer), denial withered and made room for panic and disgust. Lots of room, that is. Except that though we had a few rough murine encounters in our previous abode, compassion gets the best of me and once again I found myself searching for ‘humane removal of mice.’

Peppermint essential oil garnered a lot of support. Twelve dollars later, every drawer and surface in the kitchen smelled like a candy cane. ‘Tis the season indeed.

For two nights and days, order was restored and humans reigned supreme in their own kitchen, touching surfaces without any mousey afterthought and thinking ‘How amazing!’

Then, everything came to a halt in a most atrocious manner. I discovered a mouse in a bottle that once had maple syrup. An artsy glass contraption that little boy liked and made it his. Until a particularly curious mouse met its untimely end in the very bottle. This is our second mouse mummy. With Halloween approaching I could see some practical applications, given the nature of the specimen, but that is not of importance now.

We parted with the bottle in sheer disgust but considered the incident a sign from above. Bottles, humane trapping, happy ending without suffering… Right. Well, I am here to inform you that no bottle did it anymore. The sheer mechanics of their escape from the bottle is mind-boggling.

Mouse Olympics or not, our mice are badass when it comes to jumping out of bottles: tall, short, wide or narrow opening-bottles, nothing prevents them from getting the bait and jumping out like the victors that they are.

More peppermint, more minty whiffs as I open the drawers and navigate through the kitchen. No, I do not particularly like candy cane and I have the feeling that mint tea will take the way of the dodo. The mouse accents are just too strong.

I bathed the house in essential oils, peppermint and tea tree. But more is not always better. The mouse (mice) must’ve found a way. Once again, back to the drawing board. This time, murine compassion was left at the door like a wet umbrella. Really, what do you do when negotiations fail miserably? I am one step away from hearing chewing sounds around the house. Wait, I am already there. Never mind.

We used Balderson’s for bait. It worked. We might just win. We have, after all, not only home advantage but also a big supply of cheese and peanut butter. We will not be defeated. Or have our cutlery stepped on again.

In retrospect, I really wanted this to be peaceful. I do not believe in violence. Then again, how much peppermint can you drop around the house without getting dizzy? Half a bottle’s worth will do nothing. The mice will poop on it. Literally. This is no Hollywood. Happy ending in this case is where man and beast part ways. Garbage day is on Monday. Farewell.

Voting For The Next 40 Years

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On October 10, 2015

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

Initially published as a column on NewsKamloops on October 9, 2015.

October 19 is around the corner and the word of the day is voting. It’d better be. There is much at stake and citizens of this country are the ones in charge of it all by casting their ballot. The importance of this year’s voting is immense. We are voting not just for the next four years, but the next 40 and beyond.

Perusing the news is enough to help give us a bird’s eye view of the matters at hand and persuade anyone with a conscience to go out and vote. Ethical standards, or lack thereof rather, stand out as the driving engine behind many a foul matters that surface through various media outlets.

And we have to be discerning and realize that even though some issues seem to not pertain to us all, they do, more than we realize.

We have yet to see positive action that will address the death of the 1,181 missing and murdered Aboriginal women, and, while at that, action that will recognize and address violence against women, a dreadful reality still very present in our ever so polite society. Comments such as the one by former conservative MP John Cummings that blame the victims for putting themselves at risk rather than seeking the perpetrators are at best, shameful, and should make us realize that safety is not a privilege of a few but the right of everyone.

We have yet to see a justice system that will not be in any way influenced by money, if the perpetrators happen to have them, but will hold the value of truth and honesty above anything else.

We have yet to see a system where no victim will be ignored in any way, or their suffering or death brushed aside and classified as not important enough to warrant a public inquiry (see the case of foster children and youths who died while in government care). Public inquiries have the the potential to bring better rules that will see children protected and minded as they should be, and better qualified and ethically-driven people in key positions.

A society is never healthy until health is seen at all levels and by all people. That implies many things: ability to assess the situation, courage to address it and take action, and last but not least, transparency when it comes to the public knowing about it. Referendums to address issues that concern us all should be commonplace in a democratic society like ours. Unfortunately, these things are the result of people pushing for them to happen.

Hence the need to have our candidates committed to make changes that will see better things happen for Canadians, at all levels of society, and also willing to maintain transparency along the way, a feature that has been sorely missing more and more from our political landscape, a detrimental thing to us all, save for a selected few.

We have yet to see government action that will address climate change. There is a plethora of signs pointing to a suffering environment and no matter which side you happen to be on (the deniers’ numbers are dwindling by the day), the truth is that we all depend on clean air, water and soil. All of them have been suffering lately and that needs to be addressed.

Expectedly, climate change has also become one hot issue with the voters, for many of them ranking as the second most important after the economy.

Climate change is real, despite some candidates not being convinced by the existing evidence (explained as such by Conservative candidate for the North Okanagan-Shuswap, Mel Arnold). Evidence is not only here but staring us in the face; not a pretty stare either.

Whether at home or abroad, there are many changes we see in the environment which will only get worse unless properly addressed. The cause needs no further explaining: the progressively increased levels of greenhouse gases are causing warming of the atmosphere, which in turn brings ill such as rising sea levels, warming and acidification of the oceans, melting of glaciers and declining of Arctic ice sheets, dwindling snow reserves that forecast longer wildfire seasons.

It starts with realizing that pollution kills and it is man-made. Scientists at Environment Canada put together a computer-generated video showing how pollution spreads across the Prairies. The video, released to the public this week, is evidence of how gases generated by massive industrial sites (oil and gas, coal-burning plants and the oilsands), travel for hundreds of kilometers, spreading over populated areas and increasing the amount if pollution past acceptable limits. That is what we are all breathing in.

Such evidence should be taken seriously by the candidates and change should follow. A country’s economy is bound to be affected by climate change and it may just be that we are at a fork in the road. We can either ask our soon-to-be-elected leaders to address climate and thus influence the economy in a positive manner while also lessening the dependence on fossil fuels, or continue on the path of exploiting natural resources knowing that Mother Nature is not one we can ever trick into abiding by human-imposed rules.

Our country’s well-being is at stake here. Public health in all aspects, environmental health, an economy that is affected by both, no issue exists by itself. They are all connected and the bettering of one will influence the others in a positive way.

If there’s ever a time to be diligent about doing our homework, this should be it. Moral values such as honesty, ethics and a sense of responsibility for today’s young generation and the ones to follow are to be the guidelines in helping us choose our future leaders. Please vote with a conscience.

 

Transparency Is All That Protects Us

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On October 1, 2015

In Armchair Mayor Column, Environment, Kamloops, Social issues

Originally published as a column on NewsKamloops on Friday, September 25 2015. 

The recent the Volkswagen scandal is, at best, the story of a company that got caught red-handed. Perhaps it will also open the road towards looking more into companies that use proprietary software the unlawful way.

Proprietary software is no ‘one ring to rule them all’ but it sure comes close to it. Volkswagen AG showed that temptation is real, applicable, and, if you do it right enough no one is smarter, at least for a few years anyway.

The problem is, once people discover the trickery, the proverbial fan will spread the bad matter everywhere, from deceived customers, to angry environmental protection agencies, to governments who are pressed to look after our clean air needs, it will stink. As it does at the moment.

Volkswagen’s tomfoolery costs us all, whether we bought the objects of contention or not. With almost half the cars in Europe being powered by diesel, pollution takes an even uglier turn than we expected. The rigged cars add approximately 1 million tonnes of pollutants into the atmosphere and no amount of mea culpa, in German accent or not, can undo the damage that’s been done or stop the said cars from polluting further until the company fixes the problem.

That Volkswagen AG has been cited as one of the most sustainable large companies over the years makes it a sad compounded tale. A company of that scale is more than an individual suddenly stricken by evil intentions. If you as much as imagine meeting rooms full of people who could give their thumb-ups to such decisions or veto it, it makes little sense, if any, that a collective of people acted like one mind whose goal was to make money on false claims.

Public deceit is ugly in general. Public deceit that causes harm globally and increases the risk of death for us all. Just two years ago the World Health Organization declared air pollution a carcinogen and attributed up to 7 million premature deaths to it.

If we look back into the recent stories of deception that costs many people their lives (think smoking and cancer for example) we can allow ourselves to believe that some policy makers did not know any better, or that those who did and chose to mislead the public anyway because they were shareholders themselves or had ties with the industry made us all realize that the price of lying is a high one, almost always paid in human lives.

In a time when pollution and climate change are becoming too evident to ignore and the global community has to come up with laws that will stall the crash course, it is downright criminal to add the burden on the environment knowing that you do.

The case of the peanut company president that was sentenced to 28 years in prison for fraud that caused at least 9 people to die and sickened hundreds should have been a cautionary tale for all companies that dabble with deceit of any kind. Too late for Volkswagen AG to come clean but what about all the other companies that lie, hide it well and hope they’ll never get caught? How about us customers buying their products?

The question remains: why would anyone engage in lying and deceiving knowing that someone, somewhere, might just discover the trick? According to what we know of the human mind, the perceived benefits of what is to be gained often eclipse the risks of being discovered. It may be hard if not impossible to understand for those of us who want to go to bed knowing their conscience is clear (there is no better, softer pillow indeed) but it sure paints an accurate picture of human behaviour in general. History and literature abound with examples.

No subscriber to the infamous Ashley Madison affair-encouraging website thought ‘what if I get discovered?’ or they did not think it deeply enough to keep away. Lies are like defective vehicles, they really cannot take you far. Truth is solid ground, lies are not. The price of being caught is always higher than the price of saying no to lying, no matter how tempting the promise.

Deception hurts, at every level. In case of companies or governments, even more so because it makes us feel like we did not pay enough attention, or we were not diligent enough to know better and somehow prevent it. Having our trust betrayed is always a hard blow.

The only tool that can ensure our protection, at least to a certain extent, is transparency. The more we know of corporate affairs and of our own government’s actions, the more we realize that transparency is often not at the forefront of their actions.

Which is what gives election time such monumental importance. It’s a chance to look closely at what we want, reappraise our own values as individuals and communities too, apply the required scrutiny to candidates and their parties and choose wisely. As if our lives depend on it, because they do. Our children’s too.

Take Time. An Invitation

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On September 25, 2015

In Kamloops, Learning, Life Stories, Motherhood, Self-improvement

‘Be in love with your life. Every minute of it.’  Jack Kerouac

Fast movingThere is no faster running river than life itself. Time waits on no one and makes no concessions. It’s truly a case of take what you can when you can. I can take today’s rainy morning, my gaze stolen by the golden leaves of the silver maple in the front yard. Kissed by water droplets, some of the leaves dance a last dance as they trail downwards to rest on the grass.

MoreResenting no day for being too sunny, too cloudy, too unfit for human consumption but taking each hour of every day with the ravishing hunger of the one knowing that food like that is scarce, and, at the same time, relishing the morsels to the last tinge of vanishing taste. The promise of more in each mouthful is an open-end invitation.

Leaf

 

In the fall, colours are on the menu. Yesterday the boys sketched the veins and contours of all the leaves in our yard. ‘When you take the time to draw leaves you see more of what they are,’ big boy says, not knowing that in saying that he stumbled upon one of the biggest secret of life: Lend your eyes, your ears, your hands, all your senses, lend your heart to the world around, stay long enough and you’ll understand more.Busy hands

TruthWhy do leaves turn yellow and red? Should we learn of magic in our school? Nothing short of miracles, leaves turning fiery colours point to the necessary amendments. It is so. Magic we shall call it. It calls for reverence, curiosity and joy.

More Yesterday the boys learned of leaves, of the miracle backwards breathing they do so they allow us to do ours. Gifts to live by. A mouthful of oxygen with every leafful branch, the gift of countless breaths waiting on us each day…

 

 

WorldsWhat happens to leaves as they fall? They follow the unwritten rules of the world unseen, they become food for life we see and often cringe at the sight of. Bugs of sorts, fungi and worms, factories of rottenness that clip molecules and spread them in the ground for next round of growth and wonder. Unassuming guardians of life.

 

 

SoftnessColoursTo see is to wonder. Stop long enough to see and you’ll see more… the boy said. We did so in late afternoon. We strolled on a path of dirt rolling through hills of yellow grass tied with sparkling golden braids of sun escaping from dark clouds every now and then.

 

 

ColoursColours to feed on. To walk silently is not to be a thought recluse of some sort but to let the rest of you soak the time and its flavours, colours and sounds. To walk silently is to bow to the uniqueness of being in a moment so rich you can only ask your thoughts to sit, quiet and humbled in that cathedral of beauty, waiting for the songs unfolding to quiet down, wishing they never will because the story they tell is so much better than any story you could say with words….

TwoThe dirt path leads to a patch of trees sheltering an old cattle water trough. Crickets took residence in nearby tall dry grasses, and their chirping is the summer-end gift that reminds of childhood moonlit fall nights when the grape-loaded vine draped low and fragrant over the green bench I would sit on, not ready, not ever, to say goodnight to days that seemed to dance away too fast. Even then…

 

sleepyLifeWe sit on rocks jutting out of the dirt, old and grey and covered with dry moss. The river runs down in the valley, there are hills that take the story of the horizon into where all becomes blue and spills into the sky, and the cars on faraway highways look like bugs. The buzz is not deafening like it is when in the city, a mere reminder with no loud stomping.

 

SilenceTo find places where no loud noises exist is to feed the hunger for wonder that allows us to see and mind time, its passing and understand the beauty of the temporary. To be in awe of it. To find yourself renewed is to find, yet again, the place from where you can start again.

To live. To learn to see. To keep on dancing, because the music never stops, no matter how quiet the moment we’re in…

Our School At Home And Beyond. A Glimpse

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On September 16, 2015

In Environment, Kamloops, Learning, Life Stories, Motherhood, Self-improvement

‘Education is the kindling of a flame, not the filling of a vessel.’  Socrates

GrasslandsIt is not every day that I get to see a red-tail hawk swoop down for a midday meal in the grasslands. I had to stop for that one. And for the clouds that towered over the golden hills. It’s one of the most soothing landscapes I’ve even seen.

That is little boy’s classroom on the one day a week when he goes to Forest School. We sat in a circle in the middle of undulating dry grasses this morning, talked about snakes and owls and bugs, reviewed the things to do such as ‘wander far enough but not too far, know the number of whistles for this and that’, before the small feet peppered the dusty trail, following behind the teacher.

There is joy infusing our hug as I get ready to go on my way and little boy on his with the group.

20150915_105512Giggles, whispers, the trepidation of another day that brings learning through open eyes tasting the blue sky and the golden tall grasses that speak of dried-up lakes and hidden animal burrows. The land has stories to tell, it’s only fitting that we’d take ourselves and our children out here to listen.

It’s not in the books, not in the sitting upright and reminding your eyes to stay put on the word of the day. Not unless the word connects with the world you see with your eyes, the world you walk on and see transform from one day to the next, the smells that tell you learn to tell apart as you spend more time in places that you crawl through if need be to look at a bug, places you let crawl through you as reminders of life in its primal, must-see-or-else form.

worldsCome noon, I find my way back to the hills to pick up little boy. I stop a few times, it’s that beautiful. I breathe the place in: colours, smells, sun splashed lazily over velvety hills in the distance making them look like they are underwater. As if I am staring at algae-covered rocks in a stream. Two worlds in two. A world of many faces; ours.

This is what I want the boys to learn of in our school at home and in classrooms of hills and clouds.

That the world has mysteries we cannot see unless we bring ourselves close enough to it.

That everything has a key somewhere and as we get closer to understanding, we get closer to reverence, never away from it.

That we do not own the world, but are part of it. Conquering never works, gently prying the door open to knowledge, not vying for high marks and loud approval but the feeling of having understood a tinge more, that is what I dream for the boys.

Shelter to growThat they will learn reverence.

That they will be humbled by the richness of a handful of dirt and the secrets a leaf reveals as you hold it up against the sun.

That math and science are never the hated subjects, but keys to answering the whys we find as we go along.

That it is all a big picture with boundaries that keep on growing as our understanding of it grows.

Soft wallsThat the balance is fragile and our running to engage in rat races has nothing to do with balance but often leads to frantic days and connections lost, with ourselves first of all.

That school is never to be a place where we get farther away from ourselves so that we fit in, but a place where we get closer to knowing who we are, to affirming our thoughts and dreams, knowing as we go that the world has a place for each and every one of us, as we are. A place to be safe but bold, to wonder and let curiosity seep through. To help more thoughts grow.

Another hawk dances with the grasses. Another glimpse of life, death too, implied and not seen, and if seen, accepted as part of it all. Gracious, both side of it. The boys will learn this. They will learn that a glimpse is all. That we must take fully and give ourselves to it fully, that the glimpse is a gift repeating itself every day thousands of times.

skyThe side of the road is decorated in chicory flowers, as if the sky kissed the ground every now and then leaving marks of blue. Same fascinating colour, the reflection of the blue endless sky in small countless ones growing towards it, each holding the story of storms to come like delicate mysterious oracles. It is true.

The boys and I learned about it yesterday, and the amazement matched the mystery. Drawing blue petals on stalks on green, listening, asking questions, tilting their heads and blooming in almost incredulous smiles…

‘How do they do that, Mom? How do they know?’

DanceThat is what we will learn, and beyond. We will find ourselves privy to the conversation the earth has with the sky, we will have to be quiet enough to hear, keen-eyed to see, but mostly humbled enough to know that we are but another piece in the big puzzle called life, that we do not make sense without the other pieces.

That we are being given the opportunity to see it all, wonder and learn about it together is a gift as precious as life itself.

That is our dream school. We will only go as far as our gratefulness will take us.

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.

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