Daniela Ginta, Freelance Writer

Gratitude makes the journey better. Kindness, too.

Category: Life Stories Page 23 of 46

Kamloops From Up Close – The Things I’ve Learned So Far

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On January 16, 2017

In Armchair Mayor Column, Environment, Homeschooling, Kamloops, Learning, Life Stories, Self-improvement

Originally published as a column in CFJC Today and Armchair Mayor News on January 16, 2017. 

Five years ago when my family and I relocated to Kamloops someone told me that unless you’ve been here a couple of decades or longer, you’re just not ‘Kamloopsian’ enough. It made me feel a bit uneasy and it made me look twice at the people I met, wondering who is Kamloopsian enough and who isn’t.

Fortunately, that did not last too long. It was the end of summer and the farmer’s market was in full swing. As soon as we made our way to the market and said the first hello things started unfolding. I started talking to people and sharing stories only to realize that many of us take the same route when immersed in a place: we reach out and share life bits, regardless of whether there is a family history tying us to one place or another.

Fall brought a newspaper column to write, more people to meet and, often times someone I just met turned out to be a friend of a friend. A small world indeed is what I said every time and still do.

Then again, Kamloops is not exactly a small lost town either. There are over 80,000 people living here and almost 100,000 if you count the areas surrounding the city. Funny enough, there’s rarely a day when I don’t bump into someone I know. That is not where it ends though.

Over the last few months I have been involved, as a volunteer, with a project that culminated in an exhibition that opened on Saturday night at the Kamloops Art Gallery (the BMO open gallery near the library). The topic is sustainability and the people featured in it are local people who go the extra mile when it comes to leaving a smaller energy and consumption footprint. If you have the time, please consider yourself invited.

During the months of bringing this project to fruition (and prior to it during my many engagements with other projects or get togethers), I got to meet many people and I cannot help but be amazed at how much that changed my perspective from those first couple of weeks after arriving to what appeared to be a dusty, hot city where you had to be born and raised here to count. If that ever was Kamloops back in the day, that’s a reality that no longer stands.

In the five years spent here, I’ve met people from all walks of life and though backgrounds are varied and colourful when it comes to professions and personal opinions about the world around and more, the wealth I’ve accumulated by swapping stories and working together with some of them has greatly endeared the very place to my heart.

I am aware that I am not everyone’s cup of tea. Nobody is really. But life is like that; uniqueness is what keeps us curious and able to complement each other, if willing. If working from home and homeschooling also may seem confining (neither has to be), bringing up uncomfortable topics can push one in the untouchables corner.

Yet what I came to realize is that every place, whether big or small, has groups of people that have at least one common denominator, whatever that might be. Yet no one, unless you’re part of a Hollywood happy story, will likely come to your door and present you with an agreeable crowd to hang out and feel comfortable with. Truth is, it takes a bit of reaching out.

It also takes some learning to listen, to speak up and yes, sometimes it takes learning to doubt less and trust that things will turn out OK simply because there is at least another person that cares and shares a common goal. Another thing I’ve learned is that you become more of a place and the place becomes more of you when you lend yourself to it through various actions.

Whether meeting people and working on projects that culminate in highlighting some of the local sparkling spirit, or taking myself out to the hills for a hike and an opportunity to ponder, I’ve come to realize that caring about a place is done through connecting. To the place itself and to the people.

Each of us carries ideas and frustrations and we’re each hardened by life’s small or big mischiefs. There is no perfect person to be with and there is no perfect place to be. Yes, there might be a better place out there. For the time being, and during the time I will spend here, I simply refuse to think that there is any rejection mechanism that keeps people away for not being part of a multigenerational Kamloops dynasty.

While not all circles are opened to everyone and each of us is more accepting of a group over another, that is what keeps things thriving in all directions. But here’s something I’ve learned in the last five years spent here. That if you put your hand out someone will shake it and things will unroll in a good way from there. One mention though: good is never perfect.

The Stuff We Need More Of

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On January 9, 2017

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

 

Originally published as a column on CFJC Today on January 9, 2017. 

Every now and then I come across a quote that resides in my thoughts for days. Such was the case of the words I later discovered to belong to David Orr, professor of environmental studies and politics (quite the combination), writer, and activist.

It goes like this: “The plain fact is that the planet does not need more successful people. But it does desperately need more peacemakers, healers, storytellers, and lovers of every kind. It needs people who live well in their places. It needs people of moral courage willing to join the fight to make the world habitable and humane. And these qualities have little to do with success as we have defined it.”

Truly riveting, isn’t it?

It could sound rather counterproductive and somewhat the opposite of what we’re telling children about life nowadays. That these very words are part of a book called ‘Educational Literacy: Educating Our Children for A Sustainable Future’ makes all the sense and more.

When my oldest son was in grade 1, he asked what being rich meant. I said that though it may seem otherwise, true richness has nothing to do with things but with what we carry inside. It has to do with how much of the stuff that we cannot measure we have. Though he is inching his way towards becoming an adult, should he asked the same question now, I’d tell him the same, though some might think I am depriving him of the much-needed impetus for building a successful career.

A day or two after discovering the above-mentioned quote, I came across two news stories that fueled the debate with myself. One had to do with the salaries of some of the most successful CEOs in Canada; the numbers peppered throughout the report were in the millions, and lots of them. Really, if too many zeroes are used to describe one’s monetary compensation, numbers kind of lose their significance. Unless some of that sum is used to add goodness to the world.

The second story had to do with a Montreal-based small restaurant owner who offers free meals to those in need, no questions asked. That averages to four or five meals a day (and less wasted food.) The ripple effects of the free meals reached further than expected: People who eat there started leaving small sums of money to help cover the cost of the free meals.

If you were ever in a desperate financial situation, even once in your life, you know what a godsend a free meal can be. Compassion invites gratefulness, which in turn invites more compassion. Deep down we all know that. It’s easy to forget to look back, and at times it may seem easy to shrug and hope someone else will take care of the ungracious side of the world.

If success was measured in how much better we can each make the world around us by exercising compassion (and not judging), we’d definitely need as many successful people as we can get.

For the world to carry itself forward with unselfish grace, it is us who need to supply it by raising children who think outside of their own personal boundaries. Moreover, we need to raise children that follow passions, dreams and become fulfilled in ways that go beyond financial success while preserving the kind ways of the heart.

No one ever lost anything in lending a hand. Still, many of us are afraid to commit to it because the amount of wrongness to be fixed seems insurmountable and ever-growing. Many of us are perhaps of the opinion that paying it forward works best in the movies. Every now and then, stories that prove good deeds invite to more of the same surface, and with that, one can hope, the conviction that letting our humanity show is but the right thing to do.

And then again, there is the very opposite of the coin that prompts doubt, anger even. In our community, the recent hit-and-run that took a life and left so much sadness behind shoots down all hope that people carry warmth in their heart no matter what.

There are heinous acts in every part of our world. There are people who act senselessly; they steal, hurt, kill, do irreparable and atrocious damage, and truth is, no one will ever be able to stop that from happening. But the aftermath is where we can lend a helping, healing, loving hand. We live, you could say, in a perpetual aftermath where every day is a good day to start.

Part of doing that is raising compassionate children by making helping those less fortunate common place, and by helping them understand that life and death are but brackets and the in between is where we can make a difference in how we live.

We are all born with smiles sketched across our minds and hearts, yet many peel off as we go. We learn that success involves climbing ladders that often claim the softest parts of our hearts. What we can teach our children is that being successful does not mean leaving compassion behind.

Indeed, in the age of a growing and often ailing population, due to hardship related to climate change, wars and everyday societal wrongness, it may be necessary to forgo the urge to push our children towards one-sided success and help them instead carry on with heartful, giving steps. We’d all be richer for it and smile more.

 

It’s That Promising Time Of The Year

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On January 2, 2017

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

 

Originally published as a column on CFJC Today on January 2, 2017.

img_1035Today, on the first day of the year, I had the sweet chance to hold an 11-day-old baby for a few minutes. It’s a form of therapy you could say. Blissfully unaware of the hubbub around her, the baby slept, and her tiny face with occasional newborn grimaces was mesmerizing.

There I was, having just stepped into the new year hours ago, yet the ‘new’ was no longer attached to the year we have just transitioned into but to this new life that reminded me of my sons, of all the new beginnings we crossed together since, of all the lives mine intersected with since I can remember. ‘New’ is an inebriating concept. The desire to do better, to do more, to do, is a powerful one.

My thoughts curled around the many promises I made at the beginning of each year. Lullabies I promised to sing to my boys but sometimes forgot, too caught up in daily must-do activities to remember, too tired to sing out loud.

Promises to keep grace on my side no matter what, to be a better parent, a better friend (to myself included) and a better spouse, to be all of that with room for more… Life got in the way enough times to bring me to my knees. Some promises you keep and some you break, and that brings the humbleness in, the understanding that it is not the performance that matters in the end but the presence.

That some lullabies were never sang is a fact. The snuggles that became deep slumber at the end of the day are lessons I understood later on. Funny thing, that’s what I remember the most. It is about the presence, rather than about the performance. Doing your best under the given circumstances.

It’s what prevents me nowadays from making new year resolutions of any other kind but the ones that bring me closer and truer to those I love. Presence. When well connected to those we care about, we become better, whether we’re aware of it or not. Presence and unconditional acceptance of each other put the wind in our sails. No date stamped on any promises, all that counts is remembering that we are the ones giving meaning to days rather than the other way around.

We saw the end of a year that packed tragedies of many kinds. Every one of them, whether it was war, drug or accident-caused, brought forth the same: people’s lives were ended. People were lost from the loved ones. There is no antidote for absence.

Every one of the stories I read made me cringe in different ways, yet the thought rising every time was the same: presence is what matters in the end. While we still are, while the ones we care about still are, being present keeps us willing, inspired and discerning of the beauty of the journey rather than the promise of a set-in-stone destination.

This year’s promises have to do with holding someone’s hand when they need it the most and reminding people of the smiles they locked inside and can set free. It’s not the beginning of the new year that gives meaning to the rest of the days but our presence in every one of them that moulds them into meaningful bits of life to cherish.

The stories that I’ve learned about throughout the year that passed reminded me of the one simple truth we’re all too often guilty of forgetting: everyone is fighting a battle or more, everyone is carrying a story within. Many have but shreds of happiness in them, yet presence makes everything hurt less.

We are born craving presence, that’s what holding the new baby reminded me. It’s not a feature that requires upgrades or special talents. It requires us to slow down to be someone’s parent, someone’s child or spouse or friend. May this year be the one when we do it a bit more than last year or the years before.

Happy New Year to all!

The Many Kinds Of Magic

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On December 27, 2016

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

Originally published as a column on CFJC Today on December 26, 2016. 

Merry Christmas!It was after 11pm on Christmas Eve that my husband and I took the dog out for a walk. It was quiet. Magic of a different kind. Snow crunched under our feet as we walked, the dog sniffed this way and that, and Christmas lights shone beautifully on so many houses along the way.

The path took us to the Christmas house on Pine and 6th.

The wealth of garlands is enough to make you go wide-eyed every time. Say what you will about excess and wasted electricity, the thing is the lights make people smile. Inside and outside smiles too. That the lights have been a way for the owner, Louise Edwards, to relieve some of the weight her counselling job brought into her life, is not to be ignored either. Stories of pain and grief, stories of hope and recovery, humanity surfacing through each blinking or steady light around her yard. As sobering as it is jolly.

That time of night you could hear a trickle of carols from some garlands wrapped around sleepy, snow covered bushes.

We stopped a while to listen. Fragments of life surfaced. Christmas does that to a person. Not having my parents around anymore adds a layer of sadness that will never go away. Hanging on to memories, dusting them off as I tell the boys stories about my Christmases past, feeling a bit more that emptiness left by my parents’ passing, feeling the richness of having learned so much from them while they were still around and afterwards too.

Quiet tears added to the sparkles laid all over trees, bushes, and house. The unseen side of Christmas, the roots that go deeper each year and gain more significance, the simple truth of what matters in the end: the time we get to be with those we love, the time we find to understand that each of us carries the story of laughter and tears, grief and happiness. All transient, all worth every second of their ephemeral nature.

An invisible owl hooted from a tree as we left, adding eeriness to our quiet night walk. Another piece of magic added.

Today, Christmas midday found us on a frozen lake, lost in an ocean of white. Dog and kids and grownups stepping on each other tracks, swapping laughter, memories, stories and steaming cups of coffee. It will all be shelved for later Christmases, it will all be remembered and treasured. It’s the simple things, the time put into just that… simplicity.

On our way home we pass by the hospital. Another slice of life with a flavour so different than what most of us associate Christmas with. I think of all who sit by someone’s bedside, of all those who are hanging onto life or are about to say their goodbyes; I think of dear friends who carry their suffering with so much grace and how much I have learned from that, mostly to never forget to say a prayer. Thoughts like that always find their way to those you think them for…

I think of babies being born, of the joy trailing behind them, of all the hope they bring and all the precious lessons they bring along, as every human does. If only we’d pause long enough to pay attention…

I think of those who work on the day when most of us have our loved ones around, whatever their work may be. Just being present and willing when most of us take a break. Time offered as a gift, a different kind of offering.

It redefines gratefulness, our dependence of each other, our ability to give if we choose to, and our need to swap the roles of giving and receiving every now and then so we can reach the wonderful understanding of what it takes to be human.

Wherever this holiday finds you, allow for joy, sadness, and allow for thoughtfulness towards fellow humans. It is what matters in the end. No story is written by each of us alone, but by all of us stepping into each other tracks, swapping stories, sharing laughs, offering hugs, meals and wiping tears when needed. Another kind of magic…

Saving Bees One Proposal At A Time

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On December 3, 2016

In Armchair Mayor Column, Climate change, Environment, Health, Learning, Life Stories, Social issues

Originally published in CFJC Today and Armchair Mayor News on Monday, November 29, 2016. 

Down the street from where we live on the way to the trails there is a sign that says ‘Honey for sale’. I like that. We always buy local honey. We use beeswax candles only and I use propolis to make tincture and propolis-infused calendula ointment using our garden grown flowers and beeswax. There’s a lot of bee stuff in our family life for sure, save for beekeeping, which we might take to in the future.

That so many of us still hesitate when it comes to differentiating bees from wasps is upsetting and worrying. Learning about bees and their role in our life as we know it should be a topic that children come to know early on and adults never forget.

Our lives are so intertwined with those of bees and we are so utterly dependent on them that keeping them alive and thriving makes all the sense. Which is why the recent review of the neonicotinoid imidacloprid by Health Canada and the proposal to ban it is utterly delightful news.

Neonicotinoids are used as insecticides on many crops such as grain and oil-seed crops. They are sprayed on Christmas trees and ornamental plants, and used on lawns against the chaffer beetle. You may be familiar with it as it is often used as a topical insecticide for flea infestations in pets.

Imidacloprid and other neonicotinoids act by blocking the transmission of signals between nervous cells in insects. Trouble is, the beneficial insects such as bees, and other soil critters are affected when the chemical is used. Imidacloprid is likely the most widely used insecticide nowadays, thus the review initiated by Health Canada.

The neonicotinoid and bee death debate has been active for a long time. There have been petitions to ban the chemicals produced by the chemical giant Bayer, and several municipalities have banned this class of pesticides due to their ill effects on insects and wildlife.

Countless reviews and studies have come to the same conclusion: bees (other insects too) are affected by neonicotinoids. Enter Health Canada’s latest review and ban proposal which will be followed by more reviews on other neonicotinoids.

The big circle of life has immutable laws. If bugs are not well or, worse yet, dead, so will be the critters consuming them such as birds and many crops can be left unpollinated or exposed to other pests. Because of agricultural runoff, water can be contaminated with the said chemical, often in concentrations 290 times higher than the levels considered dangerous to wildlife and insects, according to the review conducted by Health Canada.

The proposal to ban imidacloprid by Health Canada is a daring one. As it is often the case with things pertaining to the big picture, many of us are unable or unwilling to see the trouble until it’s staring us in the face. This proposal brings hope that we will not get there anytime soon.

In this case, a governmental organization has got our back. Yes, I just said that and it’s not what you hear me say often. Well, here’s to hoping that the good people at Health Canada who got this ball rolling will keep it rolling. For the bees, for the environment and for our health.

And while we’re waiting to see it done, here’s but a few reasons why bees are so darn amazing:

  • Because they visit up to one million of flowers for a pound of honey
  • Because they can do the waggle dance to ‘tell’ where the sweet nectar is with the kind of precision that humans and their GPS systems have yet to attain. The information includes the angle of the sun too.
  • Because their hives are built of perfect little hexagons with perfect 120° angles so that the most amount of honey can be stored using the least amount of material
  • Because they have figured out how to slow down aging (tip: engaging in social activities)
  • Because due to their pollinating efforts we have much higher yielding crops and higher quality produce
  • Because we depend on them for colourful meals and overall good health.

Now you tell me, are they worth safeguarding or what?

Reminders To Be Grateful

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On November 26, 2016

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

20151004_173835There is nothing like a visit to the Emergency Room to remind one of the things to be grateful for. More so when the issue turns out to be rather minor compared to what could’ve been.

There is also the hidden message in the very happening that one should heed. Yes, I am ‘the one’ in this case. While arranging little boy’s room last night and multitasking as I do at times, I wrongly assessed the height of a staggered piece of furniture. The knee that took the brunt of it made a sound that told of my mistake. A crunch of sorts that didn’t bide well. Yes, it hurt.

The next logical step was the ER. It is never a jolly scene there. You wait, you see a lot of suffering, rushed and exhausted medical staff, and people from all walks of life humbled by various health issues. Sobering indeed. We were third in line.

My husband and I were planning on a date for last night. It became one, but we wrote none of the terms other than those pertaining to togetherness. In sickness and in health, for better or worse. Grateful? Of course. Our date came with neon lights, waiting rooms, more waiting rooms and some unsmiling faces. On the plus side, we got some good reading time. A mom’s life allows for little leisure time so if I have to break a bone or stretch a ligament for it, so be it, the wisdom from above concluded.

As I sunk into my book beautifully titled ‘The gardener and the carpenter’ by Alison Gopnik, I came across soulful bits that soothed both heart and knee: ‘Loving children doesn’t give them a destination; it gives them sustenance for the journey.’ yes, it is a book about children, parents, and the bond between them, the mysterious, larger than life self-sacrificial love that takes the latter to the ends of the earth and back. Sustenance for the journey… The very words bumped into the worry ripples that mothering and homeschooling create occasionally and peace settled. It will all work out somehow in the end.

The wait in the ER allowed for slowness, the kind I rarely get. I suddenly had time. Granted, it was spent in life’s monetarily tight pocket, along with other humans whose faces betrayed pain and worry. You’re alone when you hurt and then you’re not.

In the ER under those neon lights, the hurt ones share the small space where gratefulness gets a renewed license and a sudden return to the importance of basic needs is guaranteed. Pain takes you to a place where few things matter. You’re present but somehow you appear in a smaller size, as if shrunken by forces you will never understand fully but are willing to learn about, especially during the shrinking. Then you get better and you forget all about the crisis that made you feel small and vulnerable. Or perhaps you don’t.

20161107_120750The X-ray room is intimidatingly minimalistic. Everything glides. Bed, big X-ray machine, the technician’s shoes, reminders of the barely moving patients that pass through. So many broken parts… you slide the people ever so gently into the room and get the machines to hover over them so they can be put back together. Fragility redefined.

I tell myself I will not be slowed down for long. My mind allies with me to get the body to believe it can move fast soon enough. There’s boys and pup and so much life bubbling. Gratefulness abounds. Counting my blessings while the big X-ray machine whirs. Get back, get the better than expected news, hobble out the door not before pushing the big green button. Leaving a world of pain behind. Gratefulness and sadness for what lies behind. For what lies ahead. Life is to be grateful for. Every day, every bit of every day and every instant that renders us alive after churning our souls through the pain and fear machine.

20161107_120416I remember reading this a while ago… ‘Some people grumble that roses have thorns; I am grateful that thorns have roses…’ (Alphonse Karr). It is true. Life is not about being happy regardless. It is about finding bits of happiness among the potholes in the road that may or may not have you break your leg as you fall into them. Because you were too busy counting the birds in the sky, or the stars, or you were watching for the approaching storm. Either way. Life happens.

Rethinking Our Eating Habits Can’t Happen Soon Enough

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On October 20, 2016

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

Originally published as a column in the Armchair Mayor News. 

20150913_103721Whenever we happen to have a meal out, we opt for water instead of any sweetened beverages. Often enough we get an extra question regarding the boys. ‘Them too, water?’ Yes, them too. Water does it. I saw a cartoon today depicting a potted plant with a jug of water next to it, and for comparison, a child with a can of pop. The message was something along the lines: you give water to your plants, why give pop to your children?

It is often assumed that children’s well-being is closely linked to them sugary drinks and treats. I include fruit juices in that category too, since the content of sugar is high enough to make them a treat rather than a healthy option. And no, the vitamin C content does not matter when there is so much sugar hitchhiking a ride through the body too.

On October 11 on World Obesity Day (sad that we have something like that nowadays), the World Health Organization proposed a 20 percent tax increase on sugary drinks. That’d be a good start. The same should apply to fast food though, and soon. Perhaps followed by an objective-thinking fellow or group of (meaning someone with people’s well-being in mind) who would put the brakes on the increasing amounts of sugar and high-fructose corn syrup finding their way into foods that are not even considered sweet to begin with. Sounds crazy and backwards simply because it is.

That does not affect children and teenagers only, but all the age groups. If you think the WHO proposal is a tad exaggerated, take a look at the obesity stats: worldwide 600 million people are obese. For comparison, approximately 795 million people do not have enough food to eat on a regular basis.

Almost 100 million children in developing countries are underweight due to continuous hunger (I find it very cynical that we call these countries ‘developing’ given the raw situation people face there) and 3.1 million children die of starvation yearly. The number of obese children worldwide reached 233 million this year. Numbers are truly stunning.

As for Canada, we have nothing to brag about. One in four adult Canadians and one in 10 children are clinically obese. That means an increased risk of type 2 diabetes, stroke, heart disease and cancer, to name but a few. Not to mention a decreased self-confidence and even more serious psychological issues in case the of teenagers and children. Yep, it’s a mean world out there and the flow of perfect bodies, many advertised by the very companies that make us fat, is a never ending one too. Which is why rethinking the way we eat and feed our children has to happen, and soon.

In that context, the news that we are about to see yet another fast food place getting built right by a school (McGill and Columbia, right next to the new Stuart Wood Elementary) sounds like a bad joke. If anything, school curriculum should be focusing quite a bit on what healthy food is and why it is important that we eat that instead of junk food.

That should work hand in hand with government subsidies to the small farms, with education sessions on healthy eating which can include cooking classes too (imagine your doctor writing a prescription for that!), and with city halls being adamant about not allowing fast food places to pop up near schools.

It may seem otherwise, but we are in the driver’s seat. We can make choices and with our choices we can influence the way businesses come and go in our city. As long as we keep in mind the big picture and the reason for giving up on sugary, rich-in-everything-but-nutritionally-poor foods, there is hope yet that obesity and the health-related issues threatening children and adults alike will slowly disappear.

An argument I hear often from people who hold onto their bag of candy or cookie box is that you only live once so might as well live it up. Yet the thing is, when we choose nutritionally poor foods we live it down and our quality of life and overall health levels are decreasing, despite the momentarily immersion in gustatory bliss.

That bliss can also be achieved from a different direction and with much better outcomes by reminding our taste buds of the foods intended to keep up both happy and healthy. As for side effects, I foresee only good ones: eating less (nutritionally adequate foods are satisfying in smaller amounts) while appreciating food more. That will also take care of the indecent issue of today’s western society, which is food waste.

Worth a try, don’t you think?

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