Category Archives: perspective

If it’s broke, stop trying to fix it

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“Each relationship nurtures a strength or a weakness within you.” ~ Michael Murdock

Have you ever had that moment?  The moment when you hear a quote and it sums up an entire period of time in your life that you had yet to define?  I just had a moment very reminiscent of that.

My marriage was a great learning tool in the school of my life.  I do not hold any ill-will towards my ex-husband but there were moments early in the marriage that I knew our relationship could be the recipe for disaster.  I allowed myself to ignore those blatant warning signs, took the wrong turn and careened along the highway of our marriage at full speed.  The bumps in the road got worse as the journey continued.  Soon, I couldn’t even navigate the straight stretches of the journey without getting dizzy.  It was then I realized I was on the wrong road.

Everything about our time together nurtured my weaknesses.  It became easier, as time went on, to not confront those weaknesses and keep some peace in the house.  After several months of pulling in my head and playing “turtle” I began to realize some very important things, not only about him but, about myself.

After spending a lifetime trying to “fix” the broken people in my life, I succumbed to the fact that I couldn’t fix them.  My ex-husband and the roller coaster of our marriage made me realize that.  This relationship which flagrantly displayed my weakness in the past now nurtured my personal strength.  When I finally awakened to that reality, once that awareness had seeped into my brain, my resolve was filled with a growing sense of power.

I took that power and changed my situation, and my life.  That relationship which initially nurtured my weakness came full circle and devoted its influence to my strength.  I would never have fully appreciated that strength had I not been weak at that fork in the road.

Juggling the balls of justice – Trifecta Challenge

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The prosecutor stifled his laughter.

“Did you, or did you not state, Mrs. Bobbitt, that you would go free because the evidence would not, um, stand up in court?”

She was not amused.

“That wasn’t what I meant.”

~~

Written for this week’s Trifecta Challenge – I’m really not sure why I chose Lorena Bobbitt and the misfortune of her husband’s manhood, but I did!  I apologize to all of the guys crossing their legs right now.

On now to our quick and dirty Trifextra prompt.  Plenty of times over the past two and a half years, we’ve given you the beginning of a story and asked for you to complete it.  This time, we are giving you the end, and we are asking you to start it for us.  We want 33 words in addition to and preceding the following:

That wasn’t what I meant.

So, to clarify, you write 33 words and then you tag on the five that we’ve given you.  Our five come after your 33 for a grand total of 38.

Feeling that warm Canadian glow

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canada

Our love for our country runs deep.  We, as a nation, bleed red and white and this morning I felt the vibration of a country celebrating in unity as the Canadian Men’s Hockey team took Olympic Gold.  The West coast rose at 3:30 am (or stayed up) to watch the puck drop at 4:00 am PST and the wave of Canadian spirit undulated across the nation.

During these winter games we battled and we fell.  We picked ourselves up and congratulated those who bested us.  We honored those who carved the way for new Olympic challenges.  We watched the families and friends of our Olympians cheer on our Canadian athletes in Sochi while we cheered from home.

We did not just celebrate our victories.  We celebrated our efforts in every sport and paid tribute to those willing to represent the best our country has to offer.  We felt the pain of those who came up short of their goals but we also felt their Canadian pride in their attempt to be the best.

We battled with the world, we won with pride and we lost with dignity and grace.  We leave Sochi with the same sense of self and the same Canadian values we had when we arrived.

An entire country will go to bed tonight proud of our Canadian athletes, their coaches and their support staff.  We will appreciate the thankless hours parents spend teaching these children to learn from defeat, to lose and to win graciously and keep striving to be the best they can be.

(image credit: karenfron.com)

From the Horse’s Mouth, literally

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Today was a creatively inspiring day.  Today I went from not having any neurons firing in my brain to a cosmic overload of things I want to talk about.

On Friday I wrote a post about my first crush.  It was a Daily Prompt that inspired me to write a cute, truth-based story in response to the idea.  I haven’t thought about that adorable, freckled-faced red-head for many years but writing that post made me smile thinking about him.  The story also encouraged me to check the vast world-wide web to see if he would appear in real form instead of just the memory of a six-year-old.  The result of my search was successful and way beyond my expectations.  It also took me in a few directions I had not anticipated.

I had reached out to him on LinkedIn and found that he graciously accepted my invitation, perhaps out of morbid curiosity, but he accepted nonetheless.  We exchanged a few words and he inquired about the blog post that led me to him.  I acquiesced and sent him the link.  His initial response after reading it was more favorable that I imagined and I was curious to see where his life had led him after our brief time together in school so many years ago.

The object of my youthful affection is a now a documentary filmmaker in Toronto.  He has won several awards for his talent, including two Juno awards, and is now working on a project that is far closer to my life than I would have thought possible.  His company is called Regular Horse Productions (he was formerly with Horse’s Mouth Media) and he is currently making a film about Massey Hall, a significant Canadian structure, a piece of history that MY ancestors donated to the city of Toronto in 1894.  My middle name is that same family name and carries on the tradition of the historic family that is etched into the arts and entertainment district of one of the most popular cities in the world.

I have yet to discover the direction that his documentary will follow but I will be waiting with bated breath to see how my family history will come to life.  I have three original Chatelaine magazines from June to August of 1964 that document and detail the pilgrimage and the ancestral tree of the Massey family dating back to 1531.  Perhaps one day Andy and I will share a coffee and some conversation about my ancestors that will help shed some light on how that beloved plot of land was donated so many years ago and still thrives in Toronto today.

And to think, this random connection almost forty years later began with a school-girl crush and a lost bunny……who knew?

The hamster on the wheel goes round and round…um, he’s dead Jim.

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I have so many things that I want to say but none of those thoughts are willing to take the leap from my brain to my fingertips.  Writer’s block has built itself into an unending concrete wall and suffocated the hamster powering my thought wheel.

I have had these moments before, days when my brain was completely blank but, now as those days keep accumulating, I feel the weight of the winter blahs settling in and that feeling is compounding my lack of enthusiasm for writing and reading blogs.

I am determined to make my presence known in your blogs, once again, and reap the rewards of your diligence in your blog posting.

I need to feel the warmth of the spring sun on my face to revitalize my brain.  Mother Nature…..I hope you are reading this!!

What do you do when you have writer’s block?

The memories that will linger from Sochi 2014

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2014-sochi-logo

(image credit: sochi2014.com)

I have been watching the Olympics intermittently.  During the time that I have been able to stop and watch, there have been some proud Canadian moments that will live on in our history because they have been documented.  Athletes have been awarded medals that will be displayed for generations and their names have been chiseled into the stone tablets of time.  Those victories have been celebrated and are cemented into the foundation for our future Olympians.

Dara Howell, a young girl from a small town so close to mine, proudly claimed her Gold medal and made the boundaries of Cottage Country swell with pride.   Sisters Justine and Chloe Dufour-Lapointe topped the podium and took home Gold and Silver medals together.  Alexandre Bilodeau won Gold and, once again, shared a tender moment with his brother Frederic who has Cerebral Palsy and is, undoubtedly, Alexandre’s biggest supporter.   These are the precious Canadian moments that make us proud of our fellow countrymen and make us bleed white and red in their honor.  Support and pride can be felt across the country for ALL of our Canadian athletes.

But there have been moments that may never be recorded in the hallowed halls of Olympics gone by – moments that not only made me proud to be a Canadian, but proud to be a human being.  Newscasters delighted in showing the film footage of our Canadian ski coach, Justin Wadsworth, unselfishly replacing the broken ski of Russian skier, Anton Gafarovski, so he could “finish the race with dignity”.  Justin showed the world the heart of a former Olympian, the heart of a Canuck and the heart of the true human spirit.

Gilmore Junio has been plastered all over the coverage of Men’s Speed Skating because he gave up his spot in the 1000M race to allow his teammate, Denny Morrison, to compete after Denny fell in the qualifying round and was not entitled to race.  Denny went on to skate the track of his life after being cheered on by his family, Gilmore’s family and the rest of Canada, and he earned a Silver medal.  Gilmore may not have won a medal for the 1000M race but he won much more than that.  He won the heart of every Canadian and many other hearts from around the globe.  In true Canadian fashion, Denny Morrison is now campaigning to have Gilmore carry the Canadian flag at the closing ceremonies.

I can only hope when I think back on the Winter Olympics in Sochi that I will remember these moments and not just the jubilant faces on the podium as the winners received their medals.  The Olympic games are about being the best you can be and, in my opinion, Justin and Gilmore both won the Gold in that category!

100 Word Song – I Saw Her Standing There

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I was perusing the mystery section, nothing really grabbing my interest, when I saw her.  The library was as reticent as expected but there was an aura of absolute silence beyond the normal quiet.

She hovered amidst the Dean Koontz novels, showing no interest in one particular book.  I feigned any enthusiasm and continued down the row of books, not taking time to make contact.

She still understood me. She would have put money on the fact I would be in this section.  Even after her passing, she still knew my vices and could anticipate how I would avoid reality.

~~

Written for the 100 word song at My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog.  The song choice this week is “I Saw Her Standing There” by The Beatles.  My best friend passed away almost 10 years ago and I still feel her presence in the strangest places.  This prompt made me think of her.

Of snowflakes and serial killers

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snowpocalypse

The beauty of a white world all around,

but I cannot see it beyond my window.

I am entombed by reality,

gestating in the womb of Mother Nature’s swollen belly.

Her raging emotions unsettle me,

her fury becomes my anger.

My sense of peace is replaced by the need to kill.

Thousands of individual victims lay in wait

and my I raise my weapon.

I lose track of how many bodies have been discarded on my property

as my shovel throws more snowflakes to their grave.

100 Word Song – Tones of Home

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I wave goodbye but nobody waves back.  They gather as a crowd, looking at me but not really seeing me.  Music plays in the background.  Melancholy harmonies, tones that remind me of home, hover in the air creating the mood that was anticipated but is never welcomed.

I linger and watch their sullen faces and I struggle to block out the abrasive light.  And so I wave goodbye again, hoping that just one person will glimpse my spirit and wave back.

The light seems to warm the longer I look into it.   Nothing holds me anymore and I fly home.

white light

~~

(image credit: rapgenius.com)

Written for the 100 Word Song at My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog.  This week’s song is Tones of Home, by Blind Melon.

Monty Writeon’s – The Meaning of Blog

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meaning of life

(Image credit: Monty Python)

Part I – The Miracle of Birth

The conception of my blog was, indeed, immaculate.  It was unprotected and unplanned but, once it was miraculously born, it brought great joy to my life.  I have nourished it, fed it and loved it.  Its incessant need has brought many sleepless nights but the rare moments that it smiles at me make the bags under my eyes worthwhile.  I have held it close to my heart and have had moments that I wish it would sleep through the night and let me get some much-needed rest.

I have used many tricks to make it laugh and have relished the moments that it brought a smile to my face or a tear to my eye.  I have suffered through its teething and those many moments that nothing I did would make it happy.  Through its toddler phase we had a great deal of fun together, learning about each other as we spent more time together.  I watched it learn to walk and then to run.  I soothed its scrapes and cuts when it fell but, through all the tumultuous growing pains, we forged a bond that cannot be replaced.

Part II – Growth and Learning

Over the past year and a half I have watched it grow and mature.  I have seen it develop a personality and gain some independence.  But its need for me and my attention seems to be waning.  It seems to have rapidly entered its teenage years before my eyes.  It has become sullen and withdrawn.  We don’t spend much time together these days.

I get up early to go to work and can’t find the time needed to spend with it in those rising hours of the morning.  I have been working more split shifts recently and when I come home for my break it is lying on the couch, having accomplished nothing on its own during my absence. When I attempt to create some lasting moments with it in the afternoons, it ignores me and does not react to my efforts.

I can only hope in the near future that the negative teenage reaction will subside and, as a young adult does with their parents, we form a new alliance and become friends again.  I miss spending time with it and miss creating the words and phrases that we would carve into our reality.  With a little more effort on my part, I’m sure I can find that one common thread that will bring us back together again.  I put my faith in its capacity to grow and mature and its ability to accept the fact that I, too, have my limitations.

And the words shall set us free.