Daniela Ginta, Freelance Writer

Gratitude makes the journey better. Kindness, too.

Category: Self-improvement Page 19 of 29

Yes, We Talk Politics. Here’s Why

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On August 12, 2016

In Armchair Mayor Column, Climate change, Environment, Homeschooling, Kamloops, Learning, Life Stories, Motherhood, Self-improvement, Social issues

We do not watch TV in my family. That leaves us in the dark when a question like ‘Have you seen the last episode of…’ surfaces, but it’s a risk worth taking.

I read the news instead and often times conversations around coffee, tea, and meals, have us talk about the latest in politics. Children included. I’ve always believed that most children if given the chance and without having their minds inundated with useless, mainstream stuff, can have pertinent opinions.

We need that in today’s world more than ever. People taking the time to think, the courage to speak up and engage in conversations that may prove challenging, revealing but are overall necessary for pushing us towards knowing more, knowing better and educating ourselves.

We need our children to grow up knowing that it is not impolite or poor manners to engage in political conversations. It is necessary, because knowing what goes on in the political world can just make the world as a whole better. Simply because sooner or later that knowledge applies to voting, a tool that (should) shape the democratic world.

When a child is passionate about nature, for example, specifically the ocean, and tries to understand why people overfish and pollute the oceans which endangers us all ultimately, it is hard to come up with a good enough explanation.

That politics is intimately tied with that too is unfortunately true. Much like trawling, there is a whole lot of stuff that politics drags behind in terms of connections with industries or large companies that work for profit, no matter what’s at risk. That of course puts the politician in a sensitive spot where he has to watch out for the interests of the people, their well-being, that of the world around them, and yes, all of that should be done independent of big money.

Can a child understand that? Can they understand that though it seems Lilliputian in size, our freedom to make choices, from the businesses we support to supply our daily meals to the other utilitarian products provided by big companies, is a very important democratic muscle that grows bigger and stronger the more we use it.

At the risk of sounding overoptimistic, I will say children do somehow understand that or are capable to do so if we take the time to explain that to them. And we should. It’s the world they will inherit so it makes sense that they should have a say in how things are run.

A Canadian company is aiming to start deep sea mining sometimes in early 2017. That’s a lot of drilling and disturbing of worlds we have yet to learn of fully. That there are still species unknown to humans in those depths, that our very lives depend on the intricate mesh that marine life is, should be reason enough to give any company some pause for thinking and reconsidering. When our children grow and have jobs and funds that can be invested, they should know better than to buy stocks that chip away at the world they live in. It takes saying it out loud for them to learn.

Politics can teach a lot about ethics, or lack thereof. That politics is one of the least gracious of all the good conversation sisters is true. Yet imagine what the world would be like if most people save for those in positions of power, would engage in polite, often meaningless chit-chat, and no one would ever remark on indignities, unfairness and downright abuse of power.

We do not even need to cross the border to get close to some of that. As CBC recently revealed, a Canadian company sold armoured vehicles to both war-torn Libya and South Sudan. In both cases, the ethical and humanitarian implications are painful to discuss albeit important to do so. Sure these trades cannot reflect Canadian values. We are after all known for apologizing when someone steps on our foot; we are the kind nature-lovers with a postcard-worthy country and an appetite for wilderness discovery. We’re kind and helpful towards people who are in dire straits (see the case of recently relocated Syrian refugees).

There is enough news and information flying every which way to make this serious and saddening offense towards humanity disappear with no one wiser on whether the company stopped its death-causing trades or if anyone was sanctioned for what could almost pass as criminal acts. There’s been enough cases of ‘forgiveness’.

It is true that there is not enough time in a day to read about all that deserves attention. Canadian politics alone, local and country-wide, is enough to make your head spin. Add to that the heartbreaking events unfolding in Syria at the moment as millions of people are in need of water under sweltering heat and amidst daily bombings. South Sudan with its millions of displaced, famished people too. Millions of African farmers punished severely by climate change.

Yet if enough people talk politics, each bringing some pieces to the big conversation about the world, we might just realize that we know more and better simply because someone took the time to inform themselves, and decided to share it with others. To ask questions, to make us think, to make us do our part as much as we can.

It is by all means easy (not on our conscience) to stick to our summer fun that might or might not include water which we have free access to (imagine the complete opposite), to happy conversations and good things happening in the world, because really, there are many. But we ought to be fair and impartial and give enough attention to issues that can raise eyebrows or make people uncomfortable. After all personal comfort should come second to human suffering, environmental destruction or any other issues where violation of what is humane, ethical and respectful is evident.

So go ahead, talk about Trump and his undignified approach to politics, talk about mines and the site C dam, about pipelines and wars unfolding far away. Allow your children to pipe in and voice their opinion. It’s their world too. We may be personally attached to one issue or another and become reactive when another brings it up (case in point: mines and pipelines). Yet healthy debates can lead to exactly what benefits both sides: consideration and respect for people and the environment. Ethics. It’s possible to have it good in many ways, much better than we do, if we stand up, listen, speak our mind and respectfully learn and educate at the same time. It’s a win-win.

So yes, we talk politics. Now you know why.

Instead of Goodbye I’ll Say This

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On August 5, 2016

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

The thing is you never get to say goodbye the right away or at the right time. There is no such thing. Not when you’re trying to chase growing up kids. It’s like trying to capture that gaze of wonder on their faces just to have the camera be always a second slower than their sudden turn of the head…

Today is Tony’s first day on his first job. Allowance stopped yesterday and childhood is leaving wet footprints all over memory lane. He has a bank account and a card that needs to be activated over the phone and it’s no longer me making the call; he has job responsibilities and yes, a paycheque at the end of the month. The road ahead is real and boys become men as they take one step at a time.

Doubts, celebratory smiles and a barely audible sigh as I watch his childhood cling like a wet leaf to a window only to be swooped by a whirlwind of now before I have a chance to say ‘OK, hold on for just a little longer…’ That’s not how it goes. All I can do is wonder if I did it right so far? Is he ready?

We see the smooth parts in our children and the self-congratulatory music blares victorious, and then we see the sharp bits, more painful to feel and look at and our gaze skids sideways, scrambling for justification of why and how the ugly bits came to be. We ask for a second chance when there is none, we promise to do better starting now and we oscillate between thinking ‘it’s no big deal’ and ‘oh, goodness, how could I do that, I messed up my kid…’

Did I do it right? Is he ready?

This is one of the forks in the road towards becoming the bigger version of himself. He turned 14 not long ago and no, age does nothing to me in dictating the next step and yet now it does. He can have a job. His first.

I drove him to the end of the first block of today’s first route. He steps outside, big canvas bag bursting with papers on his hip. It’s sunny and cloudy and the shreds of doubt can’t hang on strong enough. His gait is brisk and reveals the growing man inside. I park under a big tree at the other end of the block waiting to take him to the next route.

Bittersweet it is and I know the taste. I watch leaves tapping against each other though the mid-morning breeze twirls them all in the same direction. Some resist and that’s where I find my answers. All the scraps of memory behind…

I miss the mornings when the sofa was inundated with books and the two of us would share silly laughter over Dr. Seuss’s tongue twisters and bouncy rhymes. I will miss the rainy walks and his small boots filled to the brim with puddle water, muck and all, baby teeth grinning white and happy as the raindrops licked his little face. The snails that had to be counted every time we passed the wall that now reaches his hips and will never again reach higher than his head, them too…

Would I do things better if I had another go? Nah, it’s a wild game this one. We raise ourselves as we raise our kids, becoming better at simply being, learning that it’s not about asking for second chances or for burying the ungracious flight fragments. It’s about soaring and dropping under skies that turn grey and heavy when you least expect, and it’s about finding your wings as you’re about to hit the ground.

It’s about the whispered prayers that you put out there wondering why God would listen to you since you’ve already broken so many promises, and yet you hope the ones you make today won’t go poof into thin air because you put them together from shards of hope and hope is precious.

The radio fills the car with beautiful music. I make a note to remember the name. Ben Caplan, yet another perfect homegrown voice… It happened before, the right music at the right time. I pretend to read but my mind wonders as I spot Tony in the distance. He walks confidently, the list of delivery addresses in his hand, bag hanging loose as he pulls out the last papers. My heart swells and I know he knows that. He smiles before crossing the street.

I smile back. It’s not about wondering I’d do it better if we were to start again.

It’s about gathering all that I’ve learned since the day I held him for the first time, putting it all in a big pile, throwing some tight hugs for good measure and saying loud and clear ‘There you go, I tried my best, even when I stank and we both sulked and I thought “unfit” should be tattooed on my forehead.’ Love patches the gaping holes that let the cold breeze in. as a mother you’re broken many times and put back together, every time a bit better, every time proudly letting the joined pieces show. A story of sorts.

Love is the big secret. The ups and downs that help build the complicated and necessary geography of the soul that speaks of the deepest pits of grief and of the sparkle that sits on the highest peaks where the sun dances and sings… so I’ll say ‘here you go, you ought to have them both and the in between wonders too. Gratefulness is where it’s at, for having had the chance to build it like this so far… and more’s coming.’

Hanging on is where it’s at. He hops in and we drive to the next route. I sit and wait and when he hops back in he smiles and shows me his hands all black with ink. I fall in love with the miracle of the growing boy’s smile yet again. There’s no point in ever thinking that starting again would help us fare better. It’s sunny and cloudy and there is but one whisper to remember to let out every now and then.

Happy 14, lil’ no longer growing boy, and many more coming. It’s going to be alright. You somehow seem to know how to take yourself there. I’ll be cheering you on, as always, whether the road takes you upwards or downwards. Really, you should know the big secret now: it’s what you make of it, so carry on. Don’t forget to smile.

Love, Mom.

The Things That Should Never Happen

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On July 15, 2016

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

Today’s column in NewsKamloops, published here. 

tearsIt’s been a week full of news stories, some more terrible than others. Though last weekend had me decided to write about the five conditions city councilor Denis Walsh proposed for the Ajax mine project, I will leave it on the back burner for now.

The week debuted with a little girl in Calgary missing after her mother, a single parent, was found dead in their apartment. There is something that stirs in a painful way when I come across news like that. Less than a year ago a two-and-a-half-year-old girl was kidnapped and eventually murdered and it was the saddest thing for the longest time.

Her killer will be in court next May and one can wonder if our mildly punitive judicial system will give the sentence his heinous acts deserve. We will be kept guessing until then.

This evening, just a few minutes ago, the news came that the body of the little girl in Calgary was found and a man is in custody. There is so much darkness in this act, as in all murders, it’s hard to even bring it up.

It makes me shudder and tear up to write this. I kept checking the news hoping she will be found alive. It made me think of that one-time incident when my youngest was lost in Vancouver when he was almost three.  To this day, those minutes remain the longest and most painful because the fear was so intense. The memory of it still takes me to a place that has no name because fright like that stomps on your mind like nothing else.

Yes, the minutes were long and terrifying and my mind was frozen on one thought: ‘he cannot be gone.’ I remember people shaking heads and shrugging when I asked if they saw him. I remember the helplessness caused by all the horrible ‘what ifs’.

I cannot imagine going through an hour or more, or a day, of panic like that. My short-lived case left a mark that still scares me, though that was seven years ago.

The news that the body of the little Taliyah was found is heartbreaking. Again, someone will be charged with first degree murder, they will appear in court where hopefully a life sentence without possibility of parole (or something along those terms) will be given because nothing else would make sense or seem just, right? Yet truth is many times we hear of sentences so light they resemble a slap on the hand. And the hand often goes back to commit the same or worse…

No one can be brought back from the dead, which is why we need to learn from these harrowingly sad incidents. We need to push to make our justice system fair and, at a personal level, we each need to hug our children tighter today and on all the days to follow. Hatred has insidious and dark paths it follows and it leaves much pain behind, as the recent shootings in the US proved and today’s attack in France too.

It’s hard to understand hatred when your life does not contain it. Yet keeping our heads into blue-sky permanent positivity is not an option, because bad stuff happens, and it could happen anywhere unfortunately. (For the record, I think the media needs to rethink headlines when the location is Nice because headlines like ‘Nice terror attack: 80 killed by truck…’ (The Telegraph) and that is just not OK.)

Where to from here? Hopefully towards learning that if the justice system is not just, nothing will stop some individual from inflicting terrible pain onto others. Maybe a just system with sentences that match the deed will not deter everyone or not enough.

There is work to do to make the world a better place. It will not happen overnight or anytime soon unfortunately, but we cannot give up on trying harder and better, not when the suffering that some people go through is exceeding what most of us could ever imagine.

One thing that I believe is necessary is keeping informed, asking questions, discussing, debating, and fighting for what’s just and ethical. There are many people in the world, children included, who are subjected to wars, famine, slavery and cruelty. There are children growing so close to drug and alcohol addiction they follow the same path when they grow up, save for the ones that manage to get to change their stars.

There is racism and hatred that racism brings about, and there are people who commit horrible acts and they are freed only to do it again because somehow we allow compassion to be taken for granted.

Every time a child loses his or her life under horrible circumstances and we find out about it, we are reminded that the world still needs a lot of kindness and tomorrow is not too soon to start doing our part.

 

It’s Good To Be Known, But For What?

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On May 27, 2016

In Armchair Mayor Column, Climate change, Environment, Kamloops, Self-improvement, Social issues

I remember the days when people would say that Canadians traveling abroad are perhaps among the only ones that can stitch a flag to their backpacks and be welcome wherever they’d go because of that. Canadians are nice and considerate, people would say. They were then and many, let’s hope the majority, still are.

Yet the image is being challenged by a group of adventurous yet inconsiderate young Canadians who have put themselves on the shame map by disrespecting a few of the iconic American landmarks such as the Yellowstone Park. A selfie here, a selfie there, they managed to step in those places that clearly said ‘do not’. There must have been a ‘please’ in there too, but the rush to get reactions to boldness was too much. So un-Canadian.

There will be some charges, and they will likely be forbidden to visit the US any time soon. That’s not it though. It’s the notoriety such incidents create, chipping away at the image that was built over the years. Not a bad one, you’d agree. It’s good to be known for being respectful.

Then it’s the green matter. Or lack thereof. It’s not good to be known for being the home of one of the worst polluters in North America. It is the oilsands, of course. They are the source of an incredibly high amount of secondary organic aerosols which increase the concentration of particulate matter, a recent Canadian study concluded, which can make the air people and animals breathe a lot more toxic than it should be. Carcinogenic too, according to the World Health Organization.

Another one in a different journal that was published two years ago brought attention to the much higher air pollutant concentration than previously thought forming out of the oilsands. When people’s health is at stake… well, never mind, that has been not been the case in communities closely positioned to either oil, gas or mining explorations. People were left to their own devices which are often limited.

Yes, Canada used to be known as ‘green’. That has been changing over the years though. If the previous government had us pull out of international climate change commitments and agree to ridiculously low targets, the present one has yet to show its shades of green by honouring the promises made during the flamboyant campaign.

Canada’s future as a green country is not farfetched. We have what we need, resource-wise. It may take a while to switch to renewable energies and the provincial and federal governments would have to commit financially to make it happen, but really, what other choice we have when industrial giants like China are pledging to switch to alternative sources of energy and have 5 million electric cars on the road in the near future. There is no turning back.

There is a magic word called subsidy. When the government decides to put more into what matters because our very future depends on it, good things happen. We ought to be known for that instead of scientifically-flawed processes that see pipelines approved and projects like the Site C dam being praised as good investments. We ought to have people know the difference between profitable for a few, versus sustainable in all aspects, hence good for entire communities and the country too.

Yes, Canadians are good people. The recent Fort McMurray fire (still raging by the way, though it is somewhat out of the hot news, no pun intended) brought forth the kind of stories that reinforce the belief that Canadians are brave, kind-hearted and considerate. There was a lot of heart being poured in getting people evacuated safely and saving as many of their houses from fire as possible. Many others donated generously to those left without homes and belongings.

Then, the ugly stuff emerged. People posing as Fort Mac fire refugees tried to scam generous people, others having just escaped the fire with a few possessions, mostly of sentimental value, ended up being robbed on the way to safer grounds.

You could say some bad apples look for opportunities to make a few dirty dollars and such people exist everywhere. Yet in times of grief, the opposite should kick in. If it’s poverty that pushes people to stealing, that is unfortunate. Poverty can be an ugly contender to honesty.

The few that made the news stealing and impersonating are small potatoes though. The recent revelations that over 300 addresses and names in the infamous Panama Papers were traced to Vancouver stings a lot more. Stealing is not all poverty-related after all. Shame.

There’s always good and bad coming together and even the skeptics would agree that you can’t have it all good and rosy. That’s not the goal either. How about aiming to return to being known as kind, considerate, even if too apologetic at times? To return to being known as environmental stewards who care for their land and base their decisions not on how they affect the present generation but how they will be helping future generations exist and flourish.

To be known not for having the most handsome Prime Minister in the world, or for the now out-of-proportion PM elbow incident, but for how boldly he insists on keeping his promises, because he is the face of all Canadians and their hope to make the country stand out for the good things that happen here.

It’s about returning to being able to walk around with the flag stitched to our backpacks and our heads held high. It’s been like that for an awfully long time, why not keep it that way?

Holding On, Dawdling And Markers To Find Our Way

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On May 17, 2016

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

20160517_124336I have a fresh cup of coffee and the ‘to do’ list I left on my desk last night clearly states that I should attend to my article on stroke and depression. I dawdle instead.

The word stroke makes me think of my Dad. He did not become depressed after his stroke but angry; I did too. That he lost his ability to do things around the yard, that he was slow and feeling older because of that, that he lost his smile because his body gave up on feeling invincible before his mind did. His anger melted in depressed helplessness over time, mine in tears of the same. Clinging to the shiny bits is how I can honour him and our time together.

Today I dawdle on writing about strokes because the morning walk reminded me of life before grownup shadows poured from the sky. The time when I was little and stepping out of the house into fresh, wet morning grass and my Dad would hand me a handful of half-ripen strawberries and smiles.

So I close my eyes and dawdle, lingering in the space where I can go no more, the place where I’d lie on my back in the tall soft grasses under the quince trees and make shapes with my hands against the sun, hiding my eyes behind leaves and feeling the slight tickles of ants crawling on my arms. The place of innocence and small daily miracles.

I miss that not in the whiny way that makes me unfit for today and tomorrow and life itself, but in the way that makes me ponder once again over the memories and precious bits of life I will hand my boys today so they’ll learn from and anchor themselves when life makes them feel unsteady.

It’s not about keeping them safe from harm. I have, since entering adulthood (I suspect that is what the land I find myself most days is called,) given up on the idea of creating a worry-free environment for my sons.

Life will use its sharpest sticks to poke you at times and it has nothing to do with your mom’s magic powers aimed to protect you. In fact, there is no such thing. There is the strength that we acquire by soul osmosis if you will. There are memories of sweetness, there is resilience, there is the remembrance of mistakes, loudness when loud does not solve anything anyway, mistakes corrected and tears wiped, the adorning with hugs when reconciliation drapes wraps us all in its long soft arms, and the resolution that tomorrow will be better.

20160508_111854That is what I can give to my boys. Time together is how I craft it for them, with them, and there is no guarantees either but faith, blind faith that the tree we nurture together will grow to have strong roots and a crown large enough to provide shade when needed – for them, for those they love, for those who need it when they need it. Faith that their hearts will never harden to refuse shade to those who ask for it.

I give them time, love through presence, the only things I have full ownership of. Mornings of snuggles and reading about boxtrolls with little boy, chuckles that come about as we read about creatures that don’t exist but how cute if they did. I listen to whispers of worry about things that little boys worry about, I am fortunate to be let in. Little boys wanting nothing more but to stay hidden in the land of playing knight games with wooden shields and swords and so much imagination it bursts out in stories that carry no punctuation but joy, lots of it.

20160508_105829I give big brother a quarter cup of coffee or so and the steam draws out laughter, stories, gazes averted but souls pushing closer to each other as uneasy topics nestle their elbows in between the two of us; we squeeze them a bit just to show they have nothing on us. Playing invincible? I used to. Now I play fair: sometimes life is overwhelming. My growing boy needs to know that, as he’s leaving childhood behind to enter the world that makes no sense at times but fills us with the kind of longing that keeps up going for seconds every day and every day after that.

20160508_124822For Mother’s Day just a week or so ago I got hugs, smiles and a wasp nest found in some sun-drenched woods. Cards made by them, adding to a pile that will one day become a framed expose of love bits. Cannot think of better gifts. Worthiness.

In the end, that’s what it’s about. Leaving traces that define us. I leave mine, they leave theirs. We make a mound of them and create the marker that will help us find our way back to the time when sweetness abounded and we held hands as we jumped over streams inflamed with rushing waters. So that neither of us will be swept away. Holding on is what I can give them. For now, that will do.

A Mom’s Perspective

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On April 29, 2016

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

Originally published as a column in NewsKamloops on Friday April 29, 2016. 

ThemEvery few months or so, or at least a couple of times a year, there is some news about a mom breastfeeding in public and the implications of that. A case of a storm in a glass of water if you ask me. Somehow, we’re just not over this issue though it has been happening since the beginning of human history.

Yes, many of us are still collectively losing it as soon as a mom nurses her baby in public (yes, babies do eat at various times and in various places not just at home or in secretive locations.)

The negative opinions of the crowd range from shaming the mom and her propensity to expose herself (as if!) to whether she should still be nursing a child that is not a newborn anymore. To be fair, there are positive, encouraging remarks that show support and affirm that yes, it is absolutely normal for a young one to be nursed.

The latest nursing offense happened in Ontario. Though in a community centre, the mom was asked to go to the washroom to continue. Right. That she refused to do so only seems logical and self-respecting. No mom does the exposure to the point it becomes an issue and most times all you see is the baby’s head anyway. Covering up works for some babies but not for others so in imposing the cover-up we might just see more of what we’re trying to avoid seeing.

That she was asked to do that only proves that we are a few ages behind in acknowledging a fact of life (literally) that is not only healthy but fully supported and encouraged by various health organizations and yes, the recommendations clearly state nursing exclusively for the first six months of life and along with complimentary foods until the age of two and beyond.

It truly is mind-boggling that so many get their tails in a knot over this one again and again, while the exposure issue is a serious and worrying one in other areas of life that we should be more diligent to look into as a society or even become fully aware of.

It’s highly hypocritical to do the nursing mom hunt while the really troubling stuff exists in the shadows and grows continuously. The dark sides of internet information is where the true exposure to more than breasts happen, yet there is full freedom for kids, teens and the rest of the population to access it as they please and/or are sneaking their way towards it.

We have yet to make it a common place conversation among all of us, whether we are parents or not. As a society we are barking at the wrong tree when approaching the nursing mom situation with such apprehension while not seeing the dark forest behind it.

If we are to regulate things that can and do affect us as a society we have to look at how we’re being robbed of decency and innocence, start a conversation and initiate actions that will see us all better for it.

To be clear, I am an advocate of open conversations with children, explaining things to them according to their level of understanding and curiosity. Moreover, I am an advocate of spending enough time around the dinner table and otherwise, so that such conversations are not awkward and thus avoided, but happening matter-of-factly and thus allowing for the connection between us parents and children to grow deeper every time.

Yes, we need to do something and soon. Highly overdue I’d say when we have yet another 80 people in Ontario – one of whom was a daycare employee – charged with child pornography (charges include 274 offences) and when phone applications like Canadian-made Kik open the door to even more predators. No, I am not blaming the app but its features sure need some fixing so that the ill-intended cannot be given access.

We have much to worry about and baby nursing prudishness is not one of them. We have to worry about people whose faces and identities are concealed going after children (yes, teens are still children), we have to worry about how easily children can nowadays access online pornography and how overspread the rape culture is among young people, and we have to worry about how much even best-intentioned parents miss when it comes to knowing about their children’s online presence simply because there is just so much to handle.

So yes, let’s let the nursing moms nurse and instead approach the issues that can truly hurt us and our children. This is yet another elephant in the room, and we have to deal with it. Starting now would not be too soon.

March Eight. Of Robins, Boys and Blades of Grass

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On March 9, 2016

In Life Stories, Motherhood, Self-improvement

StopIt’s only fitting that the robin comes flying by the side of the car as I drive slowly after dropping off little boy for Forest School. It is March 8, and growing up meant Mother’s Day. No bells and whistles, no marketing campaigns or Hallmark cards, just carefully hand drawn cards, mostly with snowdrops because I loved to draw them and they matched the small bouquet in my hand.

The connection between the robin and my Mom was made shortly after her sudden passing almost ten years ago and it will never change. You could say I have a comfort bird. Well, I needed one.

So, the robin. I stop the car and step outside. I sit by the side of the dirt road close to the tree where the robin is. I listen a while, catch a burst of song that gets mixed in with the symphony pouring down from all the trees and realize that it’s the swiftness of it before it mixes with the others that makes it more precious and it’s all the sounds engulfing it that make it complete.

It’s March 8 and sunny.

Some years ago someone abruptly asked why I am attached to a relic of the communist regime. Ah, nothing like the political smears spreading over a day that politics should stay out of. The answer is in the renewal celebration surrounding me.

greenWhere I sit by the side of the road there’s fresh bold new blades of grass, so green they look surreal, each carrying gifts of morning dew. That’s what the day is about to me. Life.

Earlier in the car little boy made my heart dance and my eyes tear up. ‘Mom, you know mushrooms look fragile but they are not. They can break through concrete if they have to. Plants too…’ It is so, isn’t it?

You’re only as fragile as you believe yourself to be. If you let your instincts guide you, then you can break through barriers that you never thought you could break through.

And it’s not about whether you are fragile or not. We all are in some ways. Yet trading it completely for what’s perceived as strength alone is not an option either. True strength is tender-hearted and comes from packing both strength and fragility for the road ahead. That’s how you grow to see the human, not the deeds, celebrate their presence in your life and learn about courage.

That’s how you learn about worthiness. When you can see past the obvious, past of what is easy to see. You learn to appreciate those moments of solitude when you look in the mirror asking ‘where to from here?’ only to realize that by asking the question you have stood your ground and you did not hide the fragile bits. Yes, it takes courage to ask. And it takes courage to follow the road that comes without directions except for one: Trust yourself.

That’s why I celebrate motherhood today.

Today is when I think of the journey so far. The sea of memories lapping at the window of my motherhood hut, where inadequacies and victories lay together, amassed during a time that happens too fast.

Today I sit here by the side of the road and allow no hurry. I think of the boys, their boisterous presence at times and then again, their revealing of softer sides so often when they whisper their own inadequacies, their discoveries of things that tug at their hearts, the questions that often come with tears. Together we learn to see that we’re the same, bound by love. Sometimes, stepping on each other’s toes reveals that no dance is perfect and pain spares no one. clenching your teeth in resentment is the wrong path. Smile through tears. Be grateful.

It creates mindfulness.

Motherhood invites to that. I said yes a long time ago when my boys were born, and then more so after my Mom left. Waking up with less became determination to see more.

That’s why celebrating the day quietly by the side of the road makes all the sense. It’s not about giving the day a name because it’s not the day itself but the people who make it worthwhile. Hence the futility of pulling the politics curtain over it and burying it in righteousness.

all of itToday is not about politics but about finding the space and time to see. Today is about saying ‘Thank you’ to my Mom, remembering what vulnerability and strength look like, put them back in my satchel as I carry on with the journey and telling my boys:

‘Yes, I’m showing up every day for the most difficult job in the world.

Yes, there is always room for better but that’s why tomorrow was invented and that’s why we have hugs.

Yes, I go to the bottom many times and each time I push myself to the surface again, I take another deep breath and say ‘again!’ as if I am having the ride of my life. Because I am, and every moment of it is worthy it.

Because you are.’

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