Gratitude makes the journey better. Kindness, too.

Tag: mindfulness Page 8 of 10

Raising Boys In A Factual World. Notes From Our School

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.

Glowing and Growing. Time To Understand

If I say that time seems to slow down just so that we can realize how fast it goes would make your head spin. I’ll say it anyway. It is when I stop for a few moments that truth dawns on me: time stops and runs fast at the same time. What side do we choose to see? Why?

I took shelter this morning from the running seconds in the glow of a hill peeking from behind layers of red-leafed trees. Crisp fall air and morning golden glow married for a few blinks. I did not get my camera because I would’ve missed it all. The irony…

I need to remember to stop myself from taking photos because then I succumb to the muteness of just staring at it, forgetting that words can paint the wonder if I want to keep it with me forever. This morning I will look and remember.

I want to remember today and the short-lived glow on the hill because of how rushed and rumbling yesterday was. I want to remember how dark blue the clouds were this morning, every bit of their darkness making the glow stronger… Darkness allows for the glow to exist. That is what I want to remember today by.

Clouds behind the glowing hill. The darkness that we run away from, not realizing that it is the contrast that make the colours dance with our eyes.

The boys will wake up soon, they’ll ask for breakfast and a walk, we will step outside like we did two days ago and the trees will snow leaves yellow and red as we walk to the hobbit paths where there are still dry berries on naked branches.

‘Who wants to try one?’ The boys conjure the same faces they do when I eat seaweed out of the ocean. An amused, cutely and only seemingly appalled ‘Mom!’ pinches the morning air. One boy declines with a scrunched up nose, the other with a head shake. The loving scold of children who love silliness and love seeing us paint our faces with it. Be silly. Glow with it…

I want to remember this time with them. The slow mornings, the hurried ones, the ones too loud and the ones so quiet even whispers are forgotten…

I want to remember that it is in the togetherness that limitations are revealed, that we are to learn about ruffled feelings and how we can write words on them like they are pieces of paper that hold our very soul bits. I see growing boys crumple them up every now and then and throw them to the other side of life. I see them pout in sorrow shortly after and say ever so gently ‘I wish that didn’t happen…’

But life does happen, and we happen with it, growing and glowing and we do so. We can choose to see it or skip over. It’s only when we choose the first that we learn how our hearts grow roots in each other’s through forgiveness.

bothIt is in togetherness that vulnerability shows up not to shame us but to remind us of being human. Of minding too much, of not minding enough, of trying hard and not succeeding but not giving up regardless.

We cannot wish for anything to not have happened.

The glowing golden hill, the dark clouds behind it…

I want to remember and tell myself on days that seem to lose their glow that it is all worth it. When the eyes cannot see it, then I’ll remember to close them for a bit, find the light inside and use that to see the path ahead.

On days when clouds abound, I will remember that brightness exists regardless; our eyes are limited in seeing it, while our souls aren’t. Which one are we to trust fully?

I want the boys to know the answer. I want them to know that time can be made into brightness we take with us from one day to the next. That we are often tempted to forgo the glow of today and trade it for the darkness of tomorrow. Ungrateful it may seem, it is but human. Learning takes time. Repeat enough times until you learn…

It’s what we make of it… I remind the boys when the going gets tough. They trust and try and sometimes trying asks too much of them. I know that feeling too. I come to learn of it when my own feet get tired and my will frustrated… All purposeful, all necessary.

To growIf I remember the glow of today and how short-lived it was, not by looking at a photo but by reading the words it summoned, I will shape time and its finicky nature into hope that will help me find the way. Tomorrow, the day after and every day after that. Repeat until learned.

 

 

Tread Gently. Add Courage

RiverIt’s in that little breath of wind that sweeps across your face as you walk on the river shores alongside the one you’ve chosen. Or was chosen for you. Do we know? Will we ever? It is not important, as long as you understand that magic is part of it.

The wind, ever so softly reaching for the leaf that fell asleep on the sand and laying it gently on the water. Swirl, swim, reach another shore, rest, and then go again. Thoughts do too, those inner birds that make nests of who we were yesterday to shelter who we will become tomorrow. Today is the in between, today is where you take a deep breath, feel the sand crunch under your feet, and count it as a blessing. Among many others.

Little boy runs ahead, making swirls of glittery sand with bare feet. His feet are still pudgy from the childhood that clings onto him like a magic thistle. Boys and the swirls of glitter add to the wonder of our day celebrating the commitment made a year ago.

Follow, follow my steps, the dusk light calls… Take wind and water and sand sparkles, make a castle. Could that last? What lasts? Nothing that we can touch with our bare hands can. The commitment we make in our heart does, the feeling that come what may, you will have the courage to keep searching for the sliver of sunshine that finds cradle in the eyes of the one you’ve chosen.

What have we learned this whole past year? Have we learned to sail better? To see the storms, to take shelter but also brave them when too much is at risk if you choose to hide?…

We walk, our tracks enveloped by tiny sand storms we create as we tread along. Walk ever so gently, storms will come your way, life happens. Keep on walking, the wind says, keep on… it’s there, the warmth you seek, summer’s breath buried in the sand, the hand that your hand has learned the warmth of.

It will take yours, if you let it, again, to have and hold, for better or worse. There are hands that will keep your heart cradled forever.

Boy running, sparkles of words upon discovering a treasure someone left behind. ‘It’s a crater, Mama, look!’

A crater?

Little boy runs ahead, walks through a portal of two branches stuck in the sand like a gate to the inner space that loops like a crater.

‘Who made this, Mama?’ I shrug. ‘Teenagers, I think…’ Little boy smiles. He knows.

To dig‘Wanna go inside?’ We did. We sat. Little boy sat too. ‘Just for a bit.’ So it is, just a bit. We have to remember that a blink is all. Life. Make it count. Forgiveness so you can see the day.

Hugs, skies darted with long thin clouds, water whispers, colours that paint our hearts happy.

The lady came out of nowhere and said ‘This look like the beginning of a beautiful home. I’ll take a photo of you two.’ So she did. We will remember this. We kept on sitting there for a while, the two of us. The branches and the barely warm sand, the gentle river songs, boys who play and make the day complete.

The promise of what’s to come, the learning we carry with us through portals of branches that remind us of the day we promised:

To keep on going, never let the uphill be anything else but worthy journey. To hope.

To press on, to believe in the magic that made us take the first steps. To follow the winding road.

To choose to see, to forgive, to understand what is and isn’t, to build, to rebuild, to play.

To taste the day that is, to know that there is only one of each. To let it touch our souls.

To remember the simple things and the silence of hearts seeping sunsets. To hug.

To speak up, to write, to say the words, to say them loud enough, as loud as can be, knowing that holding hands is holding on and that counts as words spoken.

to seekTo seek until you find. Up close. To listen.

To not brush over, to never close eyes and heart, to be kind, to live fully. To feel.

To tread gently. To be brave and scared, to say it, to hear it, to learn humbleness. To live with it. To wake up in wonder.

 

 

GratefulTo be grateful.

 

 

 

 

Two Boys and Their Smiles. Seasons and School

FaceThe summer came to an end a few days ago. Or so it seems. It is cold in early morning, and cold at night. It feels like late October mornings when dollops of hot breath snake out of your mouth and you feel the tip of your nose becoming a separate, cold entity.

Calendula orange suns are the only flowers that still ornate our lost little garden, the one that became so small and dry it required daily water support. Except that we were not here every day and thus the story of what could have been ended a while go with some sorry half-ripened tomatoes and leggy minuscule cucumbers that tried to embrace some oh-so-dry beans with their last drop of climbing energy.

Summer endBut I will not dwell too much on that. The summer had its fruit in days of hot and silly times, it had swimming and traveling and waking up so late the sun was almost scolding us. It had starry nights and lying in the dry grass in the back yard waiting for a meteor shower that we barely saw but relished the experience so much that we thought it was a successful adventure. Are they not all like that though?

Yes they are. Boys grow and as they do, they make it so. We dance as they sing and no one knows which song comes next. Life happens. It did so all summer and now fall comes back like a stray dog we left behind last year. Hello September, here already? Of course you are.

But this year… Stop. We talk about school but our words have wings. The boys and their smiles are complete. We have stacks of books awaiting, we have stories to tell and write and we have a world to discover. And then another. Time will not stand still. Be it so, we make it sing with us.

Boys smile and snuggle in early morning, hikes to follow just before we start the day of school which this year we will call homeschool.

as far as...With gentle ties to online schools that will assist our flight, plus a forest adventure every week for little boy. Thus shall be our dance and time will have its say complementing our words rather than have us chase for better ones. Time is never enough, not with growing kids and life tumbles. Slow slow, so you can hear leaves whooshing in the wind and blades of grass grow…

 

them twoTime with boys, growing boys that still have plenty of smiles and their growing trust. That we can have our school here, that we learn together and travel to places unknown. Day after day, this month and the next and all that will follow until the nest becomes too small for their wings, the boys will snuggle, ask for more, ask for less, laugh, scream loud enough for half the world to hear, hug and say ‘I’m sorry, never again’, and then it will happen again, because we never learn all there is to learn, but keep on trying… and I will see it all, I will see their footsteps tracing paths I never knew existed. It is so. Magic.

To flySchool, ours, with two boys and their smiles. To fly, infinitive. To make wings out of love and have them spread all the way over the horizon. ‘Tis so.

Lessons Sprouting Out Of Small Gardens. Eight.

FlavoursIt is by no one’s fault in particular that the garden this year is of Lilliputian dimensions and rather drab looking. A far cry from last year’s. But such is life. The road reveals itself as you go and gardens have a way of teaching humbleness. Lesson one.

Like parenting. I said it before. The parallel is striking. The temptation to dismiss the less glamorous results and expect excellence cannot lead to growth of any kind. We’d be stalled in deciphering the meaning of it all. Hiccups give a measure of worthiness. Struggles. Lesson two.

Despite its size and abysmal appearance (tours by request, not that anyone would, and no, there is no fee other than accepting the immutable truth that dandelions are not weeds) a garden is a book to read and learn from. Small print like this year’s in particular.

PagesHaving never read a garden makes no difference. Learning happens as you step outside in early morning and clumps of dry grass become artesian fountains; instead of water, grasshoppers. They waltz in the morning air, so at home in their long graceful jumps you start wondering in whose garden you all are after all… Be grateful, they seem to say, even a small garden can be shared. Lesson three.

 

TeenyLife is always to celebrate. Dead quiet is scary and sad. Gardens are supposed to buzz, I learn as I crunch my way through towards the tiny pickling cucumbers and miniature beans bushes. Feet want it soft, but the roughness reminds of hot summer air and water too precious to waste on too hungry a lawn to make a difference after all. It’s never about my slight discomfort, visual, physical or otherwise. We’re here to sharpen our sight se we can see the big picture… Sharp sight goes well with softened hearts. Lesson three.

Tiny curled cucumbers befriend leaves that keep them safe from the hot son. What if this garden and its humble harvest was all I had to feed my family? What if? What if no one wasted a bite ever again? What would the ripple effect look like? Humbleness, again. So much to say thank you on any given morning. Lesson four.

Keep on reading gardens. Too small you think? Too dry? They never are… You’ll read in a handful of dirt you pick up, in a leaf that sits in the sun but never burns to a crisp as I would, in the bugs that crawl on the dark green kale… Mysteries. Can you see? Hear? Save time for being where you are, for the one blink that teaches you about how fast everything goes. Lesson five.

still thereBloomAs if the garden is not small enough, the bugs make it smaller by eating the kale leaves. Former green lush tongues spike the air as empty stems, sorry looking and slightly confused. Who’s the thief? The nighttime bug show is on every night. I sleep, they crunch and munch their way through the only leaves that made it to full size. We’re only as alive as the world, visible and invisible. Light and dark, up and down, gifts and plundering… Accept it all, choose to not be bothered but enlightened by learning that you’re given challenges as you go. Lesson six.

Boys burst out in the sun, sleepy faces, bug kisses on arms and legs, hugs… reminders. They are one day older, one day closer to learning that it is all in the choices we make. To feel the sun pinching your cheeks, to smell the summer air, to learn that grasshoppers hear with their tummies and to never take anything for granted… not even a small enough garden. Lesson seven.

Orange sunsnever give upI pick calendula orange suns. They’ll become golden oil for winter days. I pick lemon balm and mint for tea, basil and tarragon. Small and fragrant. Life abounds. If only I remember to see it. Through the lenses of my Lilliputian garden where sunflowers match the theme. Small. Despite all, it grew. Barely reaching knee height, my only sunflower never considered quitting reaching for the sun. Lesson eight. 

The Honour System – Why We Need It In Place

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.

Consideration Is The Only Way To Go

Initially published as a column in the AM News on Friday, July 17, 2015. 

then and thereYesterday we landed on Denman Island and luck had it that we got a campsite by the ocean in what could easily be called ‘slice of paradise’. Night came and with it clouds and a bit of rain. Might as well, it is not only needed in our bone dry province but it really suits the ocean well.

We had dinner and listened to the waves. Lights flickered on the islands nearby and on the sky that was occasionally cleared of clouds.

A light came on at the site opposing ours. Then musical instruments, and an impromptu band complemented our night by the ocean. A group of musicians, most of them calling themselves ‘old enough to know that song’ who meet every year on the island for a couple of weeks, managed to add a touch of magic to the night.

For two hours or so, they provided us all with music and laughs. It happens when there you can count the sites on the fingers of your hands. We got to chatting and found out about other campsites on nearby islands where partying takes a different path.

Many young people bring enough alcohol and recreational drugs to party hard, which makes it noisy and unpleasant for the rest of the campers there. No softly sung tunes that invite in, we’re told, but raucous and uncomfortable.

It made me think father then just camping. It’s everywhere and it has to do with everything we do, from everyday life activities we have to do, to the recreational ones. Some people live with consideration towards others, while others live for themselves and do not bother think whether their actions impend other people in any way. Everything we do impacts others and it takes a good deal of brain power trying to figure out why some simply do not care.

It shouldn’t be this way with anything.

Raising our children in a way that helps them learn that everything they do might prevent a lot of heartache down the road.

As we drove through a handful of small communities along the northern part of Vancouver Island, we got to talk to a few people and learned a lot. Many communities have been heavily and negatively impacted by the industries that provided work for most of the people for enough years to make people dependent on it, but recent changes in laws (think the last decade or so) created work vacuums that saw the same communities dismantled and people scattered in search of means to survive.

The story repeats itself at every level. Local people are employed by certain industries (mainly logging here) but often times they see things that oppose their communities’ beliefs, yet speaking up might mean job loss and inability to provide for their families.

Just the same, residents can wake up with chemicals being sprayed way too close to their only source of water and no accountability for what could mean health issues down the road for people who form too small a community to have a loud enough voice to be heard.

These are beautiful places, just like the rest of our province and country, where nothing deleterious to people or nature should ever occur. Not if people would live with consideration for others.

People’s efforts to save beauty and the pristine while also allowing the necessary work-providing industries is the same in every community, be it large or small, except that in the small ones everything is more visible.

With enough consideration and less greed, everyone would have a fair chance to live a life they’d earn with decent work and enjoy the places they choose to live in. Consideration cannot be achieved by secrecy or governments that do not consider the impact of their laws on the very people they govern, but by openness that allows for opinions to be shared and consequences to be understood and if negative, prevented.

such isConsideration allows for joy as well. Whether it concerns working, vacationing, driving (rather shocking to realize how many tailgaters live in our very province), building a new home or an industrial project, activities that people undertake, individually or as a group, should be taken through the necessary filter of consideration and respect.

Lack of it benefits a handful, while its presence benefits all. Choosing the latter and educating ourselves and our children in that way of living makes all the sense.

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