100th post

To mark this little milestone, I thought I would reproduce one of my most favourite poems by Rumi (thank you, Maha, for turning me on to his poetry).   

If you love, if you are loved, if you want to be loved, I dedicate this to you. 

Music Master by Rumi

You that love lovers, this is your home.  Welcome!

In the midst of making form, love made this form that melts with love for the door,         soul the vestibule.

Watch the dust grains moving in the light near the window.

Their dance is our dance.

We rarely hear the inward music, but we’re all dancing to it nevertheless,

directed by the one who teaches us,  the pure joy of the sun, our music master.

When I am with you, we stay up all night.   When you’re not here, I can’t go to sleep.

Praise God for these two insomnias!  And the difference between them.

The minute I heard my first love story I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was.

Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere.    They’re in each other all along.

We are the mirror as well as the face in it.   We are tasting the taste this minute of eternity.    We are pain and what cures pain, both.  We are the sweet cold water and the jar that pours.

I want to hold you close like a lute,  so we can cry out with loving.

You would rather throw stones at a mirror?   I am your mirror, and here are the stones.

 

 

Got An Hour?

I’ve read this little gem of a book and thought I’d pass on the recommendation.    If you’ve got an hour or so, that’s about how long it will take you to read it, but its impact will stay with you much longer.   I’ll let you discover its simple beauty & emotion on your own. 

Love, Chantal xoxoxox

(added to The Ideal Life according to Mark Twain page in sidebar)

Talk To Me

It’ s my turn tomorrow at Sunday School  (I don’t say teach, ’cause I’m not a teacher), and I’m preparing the material to present to the children.  Tomorrow’s theme is “God Hears Our Prayers”.   One of the questions I plan on asking the kids is how and when do you talk to God?  And before I can ask them that question, I have to be ready to back it up with my own answers.   Because kids like to throw your questions back at you, kind of like Jesus did (ever notice that, how Jesus often answered questions with a question? It probably drove his friends nuts….).  So you must be prepared and be sincere, or else you’re left stammering and stuttering something silly, and then you lose your credibility in front of these little people who have very good hypocrite detectors.

So I was thinking about that, how & when do I talk to God….for a while, I was letting my spirituality take a back seat, so I wasn’t doing much talking.  Things happened in my life that pulled me away from feeling I belonged, I saw things happening in the world, and as much as I can separate God from what organized religions claim and do in His name, as much as I know that what goes on in the Vatican is far removed from the simple truth of Love, I felt I needed to step back a little.  I didn’t feel God was hearing me, and I figured why bother talking to someone I don’t feel is near to me anymore?  In retrospect, I know that it was me who was pulling away, not the other way around.   After years of feeling that God lived in me, I began feeling abandonned.  I didn’t want to break all ties, so I intellectualized my spirituality.  I went through the motions without feeling anything.  But I didn’t talk to Him like I used to, if I prayed it was prayers that I recited at church, along with everyone else, or I would ask for patience and wisdom when I would hit a roadblock as a parent.   So I was basically just talking to Him if I needed something, or to follow the pack.   

I’m not sure when it began, but at some point not that long ago, in a real quiet way, I started talking to Him again.  I did it in my car, while fixing dinner, I sometimes would remember a song that I used to sing at church, and sing it to myself as I fell asleep (okay, I wasn’t doing these things all at once,  fixing dinner, talking to God and falling asleep while driving my car….you know what I mean).   I wasn’t really praying to Him in the sense of praising Him, or giving thanks.   Mostly I would just talk to Him, in my head, about my parents, about things that happened to me during the day, sometimes I’d just be asking question after question about life……

When you love someone, you want to communicate with them any way you can, as much as you can.  Too much is not enough.  And when you can’t see that someone that you love,  you try to pour as much of yourself into your communication as you can, so that the person can feel how much you love them.    You call, you write letters, you leave notes, you send emails, you close your eyes and think of them, hoping that your vibes and the power of thought reaches them wherever they are.  My children & I do these things instinctively, when we’re apart.  I also do this with the people I love that are far away and that I wish were closer, much closer.   God sort of falls in that category.     

I might not like alot of what goes on in the world in the name of God, I might disagree and protest against things that my religion professes to be true and irrefutable.  I hold my freedom to question the Establishment as imperative to being created as a human being with free will, with the intelligence and faith to walk the path I choose, all the while putting my trust in Him.  I have no illusions, believe me, I have no answers to the mysteries of Life, and I probably never will.  What I do know is that since I’ve been talking to Him, and reflecting on His truth about Love, quiet miracles have been shining in my life, with my children, in my heart, in my relationships with my sisters and my friends, at work.  Angry scars have healed over a little more. 

If someone I love didn’t talk to me or try to communicate with me in some way, I wouldn’t feel close to them, naturally;  but I’d like to think that I would be waiting in the wings, waiting for them to be ready to reach out.  I think God works in the same way, He waits til you’re ready, and comes closer as you open up.  

There.  I think I’m ready now for anything those little Sunday School kids can throw at me.  Unless it’s their crayons.

Love, Chantal xoxoox 

When The Steam Clears Up

I step out of the shower, the fan above me whirs loudly…..you’d think I was in a helicopter for all the noise it makes…..  The mirror above the towel rack is all fogged up, but I don’t wipe the steam away….I wait for it to clear up on its own, patiently towelling myself off, wrapping my robe around me.  I walk out, towel-turban head, and make coffee.  I return to the helicopter launching pad…..can I shut that fan off now?   Is the steam all gone?  The steam hasn’t evaporated yet….. I look at the mirror, and see something appear, a secret message in a childlike script…….

I brought my car in yesterday before heading off for work, for its regular three-month checkup thingie.  I love my Hyundai dealership, the people that work there are fabulous.  So  I’m waiting, reading the newspaper, and Kevin the service manager calls me to the counter.  Roger the mechanic is with him.  Inside I’m going “Uh-oh, this isn’t good if both the manager AND the mechanic need to talk to me….”  So they go on to explain the work that needs to be done (front brakes are toast, back brakes need lube or whatever it is they need, an oil change needs to be done, parts & labour) along with the cost.  Roger is there holding my front brake pads for me to see how worn they are (like I would know the difference between a healthy brake pad and a sick one…but still, very considerate of him).  And he has that sad puppy dog look in his eyes as Kevin the service manager explains the cost (which includes taxes).   Steam fogging up the mirror…… 

Roger looks at me, sort of bracing himself as Kevin tells me the grand total, taxes included.   I’m doing my best to take it all in stride, as if I’m used to paying this kind of money all the time, just like that.  I AM an independent woman, after all, earning my own money, paying my own bills, providing for me & my children.   I smile at Roger the mechanic and Kevin the service manager, and say something breezy & nonchalant, like “It’s gotta be done….”,and shrug my shoulders while I say it.  Meanwhile I’m thinking “HOLY GEEZ!!!!!! That’s half my rent!”  Steamy, foggy bathroom alert….can’t see…..resist the urge to wipe the mirror….

As the Hyundai shuttle driver brings me to work, I’m still in a state of shock at the amount I’ll have to pay for the car.  There goes Christmas spent somewhere warm.   There go the kids’ mattress foundations I was going to shop for this week. 

Darren the driver is one funny guy.  Good thing, because I need all the comic relief I can get right now as I contemplate some kind of criminal activity to rob Peter to pay Paul.   Darren is 26, stands about 5′ in his workboots, as round as he is tall, and reminds me of a scrappy, scruffy little teddy bear.  And he has the best stories ever (he should be on George Strombolopolous’ The Hour).  I laugh all the way to work as he recounts his hilarious days of losing his keys, finding his own wallet that he didn’t know he had lost,  his dreams of going back to school to get a better paying job, his worries about being hugely indebted with student loans after said job is obtained.  But he’s an optimist, Darren is, and he always brings a little bit of sunshine to your day.   And I take a little bit of that sunshine back to work with me as I come up with a workable solution to pay for the car’s repairs. 

Steam clearing a little……

As I’m calculating what I owe for the next 2 weeks, I check the calendar, then check it again:  YESSSSS!!!!!  October sees me getting THREE cheques, rather than the usual two.    Hello Christmas holiday, hello mattresses! 

Steam dissipating til it’s nearly all gone….

Night falls, and the voice you long to hear is there, close and reassuring, asking about your day, making you laugh three seconds after you say hello, wondering what you’re reading, telling you that you’re amazing, that voice that wants to know all about you and how you’re doing.  You can’t see that voice yet, (are voices seeable?) but you know it’s there, you can hear it……if you’re patient, it will come.  Don’t wipe the mirror, be patient, it will all become clear.

Coffee cup in hand, I read the message my daughter has left for me, written on the mirror in her curly script:  I love you. 

I don’t wipe the mirror, I don’t clean it…I want to see that message again & again, each day.   Even when the steam clears, I know the message that my daughter wrote is still there.  Even when my children are not with me, they are.   Even when I’m faced with the unexpected, I know the answer is somewhere for me to discover.   Even if I cannot see the gentle, true voice that I’ve been hearing lately, I know he’s in my heart. 

Resist the urge to wipe down steamy mirrors, be patient and watch what manifests itself when the mist clears…..

Love,

Chantal xoxoxo 

Need a Pity Party?

 

If you feel like throwing yourself a pity-party, this book is not for you.   However, if you need to put some perspective in your life, if you need to light a fire under your derrière to get motivated about doing something, or if you just want to read about a great human being, then run, don’t walk, to your nearest bookstore or library and pick up Tales From the Bed. 

This is a memoir by Jenifer Estess, a courageous woman who started up Project A.L.S. with her sisters, while the disease was destroying her.   It’s a poignant book, as she chronicles her life as a bedridden woman, with desires and needs in matters of love and intimacy as urgent and present as in any other woman, coming face to face with what she has and what she will never have, giving glimpses of how she became who she was through her family experiences and the love of her sisters.   If I had to use one word to describe Jenifer Estess, I would say she was driven.  Driven to achieve in all she did, and her driving force was Love. 

The writing is excellent, full of humour, and cleanly descriptive.   I laughed and cried, sometimes all at once.   It’s a great book to help hammer home the fact that we’ve only got this life, and it might be really short, so choose to love. 

(added to The Ideal Life according to Mark Twain page in sidebar)

Love, Chantal xoxoox

Blossoming

I came across this link  http://www.chriswetherell.com/hobbit/   on Mental Floss, and being as I loved the Lord of The Rings trilogy, and I love Hobbits (because they’re nice & they read) I thought, hey this might be fun.  So what you do is you enter your name and it spits out what your Hobbit name would be.  This is my Hobbit name: 

Orangeblossom Bracegirdle of Nobottom

Of course, it’s hilarious!  Especially the Bracegirdle part! 

But I loved the Orangeblossom part…….Orange blossoms are Florida’s state flower, land of sun and warmth….orange blossoms are also delicate and fragrant.  But I was especially pleased by the Orangeblossom part of my Hobbit name, and this is why:

In Glamour magazine, there is a column entitled “Jake:  A Man’s Opinion”.  This column has appeared in the magazine since forever.  ”Jake” is a pseudonym under which different men over the years have written, providing women with their takes on relationships, dating, observations of women, etc….The “Jake” that I’ve been reading for the past few years had a girlfriend whom he talked about in the most glowing terms.  And to protect her anonymity, he called her “Orange Blossoms”.  I could just picture this woman in my mind, quiet, determined, independent, intelligent, in love with her Jake.  He named her Orange Blossoms because he adored her scent.  So Jake would sometimes write about his life with Orange Blossoms, how he was grateful for her, how much he loved her, all that nice fuzzy stuff.  Then one day, Jake announced that Orange Blossoms had broken off with him.  He continued to write the column, but would inject some comment every once in a while about how much he missed this woman.  It was really quite sad, reading it.  I’m not sure how long, but maybe a year or so later, Orange Blossoms came back into Jake’s life, they reconciled and are now getting married. 

The point of this whole thing is to say that whenever I would read Jake’s column, and he would talk about Orange Blossoms, I would think to myself how wonderful it would be to have a man so enraptured and in love with me that he would give me a name related to how much he loved my scent.  So when I saw that my Hobbit name contained Orangeblossom, I was tickled pink…..or orange in this case!  It was a hopeful little sign to my soul, letting me know that maybe one day, I will find myself in that special kind of nurturing relationship, where it’s all mutual:  respect, cherishment (is that a word?), passion, affection, love, support.  The kind of relationship that moves the other person to call me by a special name, attributed only to me…..like Fair Chantal, or something like that. 

As long as it’s not Onion Bunion……

Have fun checking out what your Hobbit name would be, and if you want, come back here to share it.  

Love, Chantal xoxoox  

Guarding against Gardasil

There is a new vaccine called Gardasil, which purports to protect against four strains of HPV that can cause cervical cancer & genital warts.  Advocates of this vaccine (i.e. Merck Frosst Canada Ltd.) say that all females between 9 and 26 should be vaccinated.   Canada has offered up its daughters as guinea pigs for this potentially dangerous vaccine, of which little is known about its side-effects.  I’m providing these links because I feel strongly about this, that this is another attempt at scare-mongering by the big pharmaceuticals & the government to dumb down the masses & keep parents in a reactionary state of fear.

http://www.909shot.com/PressReleases/pr62706gardasil.htm 

http://www.macleans.ca/article.jsp?content=20070326_103291_103291&source=srch

http://www.macleans.ca/article.jsp?content=20070321_170620_7956&source=srch 

This one scared me with its “this will make it all better” tone….considering it’s the province that put it out:

http://www.hpvontario.ca/index.html

http://stickdog.gnn.tv/blogs/21435/The_Facts_On_GARDASIL_Is_It_Safe_Does_It_Prevent_Cervical_Cancer

Please pay special attention to the paragraph that details how much Merck stands to gain with this vaccine….

http://www.cbc.ca/news/background/cancer/gardasil.html

http://www.cbc.ca/canada/calgary/story/2007/02/02/hpv-vaccine.html

This link provides many other links that will be useful to get a balanced perspective:

http://www.cbc.ca/national/blog/video/health/a_parents_dilemma_1.html

And that’s my goal here.  To give balance & perspective to an issue that seems to have parents reacting instead of thinking. 

My own position on this whole thing is that there’s no way that my child will be vaccinated against a possible INFECTION that COULD possibly cause her to develop a disease where Canada has the lowest incidences in the world.  And when I read as much as I can about it, about deaths in the U.S. that have resulted from the administration of this vaccine, when I read that health-care providers are refusing to have their own children vaccinated because of the deaths, the adverse effects, and all the unknowns, you can bet I’ll think twice. 

This is not polio, or tuberculosis.  Cervical cancer is not an epidemic, nor do the statistics indicate that it’s on its way to becoming one.   I certainly am NOT minimizing the seriousness of cervical cancer, nor the risk and threat that it poses to women.   I’m saying parents need to inform themselves as much as they can.    And let’s please remember that this is being touted as a way to PREVENT a sexually transmitted disease that could lead to cancer.   We already know the high effectiveness of getting regular Pap smears in preventing disease, and let’s not forget that honest communication between parents and children about sex goes a long way.     It seems that government & big pharmaceuticals make it easier as a parent to get your daughter a vaccine than to sit down with her and have a conversation and say to her that abstinence and/or condoms reduce HPV.   

This is a vaccine against a sexually transmitted disease, and for the makers of it to promote it as a vaccine against cervical cancer is misleading, irresponsible, and dangerous.

Hockey Socks Go INSIDE the Skates

It’s official…..I’m trying to keep it on the downlow, because what I really want to do is SHOUT IT FROM THE ROOFTOPS!!!!!   

I AM A HOCKEY MOM!

I am so thrilled at this new development in my life that I can’t contain myself when I talk about it with people.  The following is an example of how it went  as I chit-chatted with various people today:

So what’d you do on the weekend?

Me (smiling a mile wide):    P started hockey this weekend…..for the first time….  

GET OUT!  So you’re a Hockey Mom now! 

It’s amazing how instinctively people get it.   Hockey is a big deal in this part of the world.  This is OUR game (in spite of  Gary Bettman).   Canadians who don’t like hockey, I’m guessing they keep it to themselves.  Although their opinions are respected by the majority of Canadian hockey-nuts (as Canadians, we are polite, after all), most people I know are fans who grew up playing, who watch the game, who play hockey as adults,  or who have kids who play.     Generally it’s all of the above.    It’s very clichéd, but hockey brings us together.  In fact, I’ll be joining my friends this week to watch the Hockey Night In Canada double header (Toronto vs Ottawa, then Philly vs Calgary).   

So my boy, my son, is playing hockey for the first time in his young life.   At eight years old, he’s a late-starter by any standards….  kids usually start out at around 4 and 5 years old.  His father signed him up in the playground league (cheaper, more fun, not as competitive I’m thinking as other leagues).  P had his first practices on Saturday and Sunday.   His father couldn’t make it to P’s first time on the ice, because he was on the East Coast with his wife.  I knew my ex was very disappointed at missing this “first”, as he’s played hockey all his life and was thrilled when P finally showed an interest in wanting to play.   I felt disappointed for M also,  but in another way, I was glad that I got to take P to his first practices.  I’m thinking that I needed this with my boy more than M did.  M had enough good things in his life, what with the new wife, the new house, the trips, and now the new baby that will arrive in the Spring……that’s a post for another day, though.  

So Saturday morning was our initiation into the world of hockey, our rite of passage, our baptism by fire.   His practice was at 7am at an arena 30 minutes from where I live.  I barely slept in anticipation.  When 4:30am rolled around, I got up, checked & re-checked his hockey bag, hoping he remembered what order he needed to put his equipment on.  Because I did not have a clue.  I could tie his skates, but as for the rest, I was counting on him.  His father told me that P had practiced putting his equipment on & taking it off at least 10 times, so he should be good. 

At 5:30, I woke the kids up, and it was like Christmas morning….you know that feeling of excitement you have, you’re still sleepy & tired, but you get up anyways because it’s Christmas?  Well, this is how P was.  He got up smiling, and with his little bedhead, he took himself to his hockey bag to check that he had everything, and didn’t want to eat til he was semi-dressed (so as to take less time in the dressing room). 

G got up (not quite so smiling), we dressed, ate breakfast & headed out at 6am, in the dark morning.  Walking to the car, P is carrying his bag & looks up at the sky……there were thousands of morning stars above us.  Magic.

I stopped to pick up the required Tim Horton’s coffee, we drove to the arena in good time, and found P’s dressing room.  Other parents were there already, helping their kids get dressed.  Most people knew each other from last season……we were the newbies.   The coach, his wife & his 2 daughters (who play on P’s team) arrived, and  immediately welcomed us with terrific smiles,  & asked P what number jersey he wanted.  I helped P with his equipment, tied his skates, and then it happened…..how do I hook the mouthguard onto his helmet? 

Arrghh….I couldn’t determine if another Hockey Mom’s child had a mouthguard attached to their helmet.  And I certainly didn’t want to ask a Hockey Dad & show that I really WAS New Hockey Mom, but time was of the essence, so I asked the coach’s wife….she kind of looked at it, trying it this way & that, then turned to a Hockey Dad & asked him if he knew how to do this….And there it was, the dreaded frosty look, the impatience, the annoyance with a female who shouldn’t be here if she doesn’t know how to hook on her kid’s mouthguard!   I thanked Mr. Personality-Hockey-Dad & made a mental note to be extra-nice to this guy, just because….kill ‘em with kindness is what I say!  

Actually, that guy was the only one who made me feel a little like a fish out of water (which I was, but I do a good job of doing that myself, I don’t need others to help me out).  Maybe he wasn’t a morning person, maybe he had a fight with his wife before leaving the house…….Whatever the case, everyone else was friendly and laughing, and you got the feeling that THIS is what it was all about, cheering on your kids at 6:30 in the morning, with other parents who loved their kids and The Game as much as you did.

I tell you, it was a religious experience, watching my son on the ice with other little kids, and when I saw him go through drills, like skating backwards to the blue line then turning & going forward to the red line & back again, my heart was breaking for my little guy…..because he has a hard time skating backwards, he kind of tries to walk instead of glide.  I know it’ll come with practice, but seeing his courageous little self give it his best shot and not give up despite being last to reach the red line, well my eyes got all watery as I gave him the thumbs up when he looked over.  He gave me a shy wave back.  G was sitting next to me & when she saw me all misty-eyed, said “You’re not going to cry when he falls down & hurts himself during a real game, are you?”  I told her no, I won’t, & that one day she would understand how it feels to be a mom & see your child try his very best.    

Afterwards, as I helped P take his equipment off, one parent had bought a huge box of donuts & handed them out… the whole mood in that dressing room was happy parents with their tired but happy kids who were about to feel not so tired soon thanks to a donut-sugar-rush.  The energy was just real positive, people heading out to their vehicles, their kids’ hockey bags slung over their shoulder (me included, just like a real Hockey Mom!)…. 8:30 on a Saturday morning, the weekend having gotten off to an awesome start.  The sun had risen by the time we left, the air was a little frosty.   Perfect Autumn weather.   Magic.

All the way home, I kept looking in the rearview mirror at P, and we kept smiling at each other, no need for words to say how great it felt. 

I learned alot this weekend, about my son.  Like his strong determination, his attention to the smallest details, his great desire to do well and have fun.  His wanting to be like the others, to fit in.  How he needs my reassurance and my presence to be able to let go & move forward into this world. 

I learned alot about myself this weekend.   That I’m my child’s Number One fan.   That I really like being part of this dedicated group of parents, and that despite being shy, I found that little efforts on my part helped to make me feel like I belonged.   I learned of my own determination at making the best of being a parent who does it on her own, and that I’ll do what it takes to make sure my kids know that I’m there for them, that I’ll skate to the front of the net & pass them the puck so they can score (and who cares if I fall in the process?  Falling and getting back up is all part of the game).  How I need their reassurance & presence in my life to be able to keep moving forward. 

And oh yeah, one more thing I learned……hockey socks go INSIDE the skates.   

Love, Chantal xoxoox