Lost in a dream,
fleeting thoughts of you
take me to a place long ago,
where I’m lost in your eyes,
the way they used to look in to mine,
really seeing me, as you held me.
I become lost in your arms,
remembering the smell of your skin
and the taste of your kiss.
I fall, lost in your love,
never wanting to let go,
not wanting the dream to end.
But I awaken,
your face disappears but the memory lingers,
and now I feel lost again, without you.
I loathe the word nagging. I much prefer the term ‘getting your point across in a relatively passive-aggressive way’.
When I feel strongly about something, I can be a bit overwhelming in my pursuit and subsequent follow-up. While my intentions are completely honorable, my execution can be somewhat irritating. But at the heart of my bothersome behavior is my desire to see the benefit of my persistence far outweigh the burden of my pestering.
I really do want the best for people. And sometimes I feel like the droning sound of my voice, saying the same thing over and over again, will eventually have its desired effect. But I can hear myself. I can hear the warming of my vocal chords as they prepare to drown the recipient in their ambient sound waves. And although the compulsion is unrelenting, if I am lucky, sometimes I can catch myself before the melodic tone of my incessant chatter reaches maximum annoyance.
On the bad days, I do see my nagging as a challenge – a moment to rise above the urge to deliver unwarranted advice. But on the good days, I see my nagging as a strength – a moment to reflect on the genuine feeling of emotion behind the message I am trying to convey. Regardless of which day it really is, I am compelled to react because the apprehension I feel for a situation is directed at a person who is very close to my heart.
Although the word nagging is derived from a Scandinavian word meaning “to gnaw”, I like to think of my foray into personal harassment as more of a nibble. And if you find yourself on the opposite end of one of my lectures, please know it comes from a place of love and from nowhere else.
I am not a fan of making resolutions for the new year. I have never followed the time-honored tradition of making a list of things that, once they are scripted, seem somewhat ridiculous and marginally unattainable. I have known enough disappointment in my life to know that setting myself up for a possible failure, in a manuscript penned only by me, is not an option.
But this year something changed. A small cog in the wheel of my thought process became stuck for a short period of time and had me reflecting on the past year and the role that social media played in perpetuating a plethora of misguided and angry posts. No topic was sacred and no member of any social media outlet came out unscathed.
Friendships have been lost or irrevocably changed. Lines have been drawn in the sand and sides have been taken. The majority of posts I ignored and would not engage in a battle, political or otherwise, without the benefit of being able to see my opponent. It is easy to send a cascade of beliefs out into the cyber world without having to actually face your adversary. There is a level of comfort enjoyed when you are typing your emotional mitigation without the burden of having to face a rebuttal. You can simply turn off your device and ignore the reply.
So my resolution this year is simple and it came as no surprise. I have resolved to not post any negative statements this year. This does not mean I will not have strong opinions on many topics. It simply means I will hold my pessimistic views about any issues until a fair and just way of sharing those sentiments presents itself in a personal and neutral setting.
Social media makes voicing thoughts far too easy without taking that extra moment to calm down before we type. Just thinking about how many eyes may read what I write has made me want to be much more culpable for the content of my posts. Fingers crossed I can hold my tongue if the need arises!
I have never been one to shy away from using my voice. I have learned over the years that having an opinion is the backbone of our individuality. Our beliefs and ideals are just that, ours. We have a right to share them and we have the intelligence to know that not everyone will agree with them.
Social media has taken our tiny platform from parties and get-togethers to an extreme level and our opinion, should we choose to voice it, is subject to a wide array of conjectures and unpredictable feedback. These days there is a very thin line between anything and political correctness.
Lately, I think twice before I post an update on my page or even post a response to someone else’s post. For every nine people who simply click the thumbs-up button to give you a like, there is that one person who can turn a simple post into their newest crusade. They will mock you for posting it, they will admonish those who liked it and they will go to great lengths to channel their strong feelings and bestow their opinion upon everyone else.
Yes, some posts and memes can cross a line or two…but are we not allowed to maintain some sense of humor in light of what is going on in the world these days? If we dissect everything we see and find offence in the slightest bit of offside rhetoric, we are bound to be very unhappy people in the near future.
I have a very open mind and a very twisted sense of humor and there are things on social media that I have found to be distasteful, even repugnant, but I have not ostracized the person who posted it….I have merely moved on and chosen not to engage in a conversation that wasn’t worth having.
My mother used to say, “it takes all kinds to make the world go around”. Now, more than ever, I know what she meant. But it also takes all kinds to show some compassion and understanding and realize that we are all entitled to our own opinion without fear of recrimination.
That inspired moment,
the moment that seemed to stop in time,
when there were so many things I wanted to say, yet,
none of them would come out.
Silence stole the spotlight,
but there was a shared comfort in that quiet.
I realized,
in that muted moment,
when the silence was deafening,
that I didn’t need to say anything.
My words needed no sound.
The emotion in my reticence spoke volumes.
And in that breath of repose,
everything I wanted to tell you,
you already knew.
I never used to be one who could sit and watch the news on television and that habit has not drastically changed over the years. I have not ignored the reality of what is happening in the world. I have merely chosen to moderate how much negative energy I will allow inside the walls of my home. And with the most recent barrage of cynicism and hostility that has been taking centre screen on every news feed across the world, I choose, for the most part, to tune it out.
Don’t misunderstand me….I will still have a modicum of knowledge when it comes to current events, but I cannot subject myself to hearing the same stories told by a select number of news anchors who beat the same dead horse over and over again. Instead, I choose to take my positive energy and inject it back into my reality.
There is some debate as to whether or not it was Mahatma Gandhi who quoted the subject line of this post but, regardless of its origin, it holds a strong place in my resolve to make a difference, if not in the world as a whole, at least in my world. And with so much hate bubbling to the surface in the current political climates, I have resolved to love what matters.
If I think of myself as a fraction of the population of the planet, I am an infinitesimal part of the equation. But if I simply see myself as a fraction of my community, my significance becomes notably more meaningful. Perhaps I cannot make a difference on a global scale but I can certainly try to make a difference within the boundaries of my geography and that is what I am trying to do.
The world can only be changed by example, not by opinion. And now, more than ever, the world really needs us to be the change we wish to see.
I never used to take sides. I despised confrontation….I still do. But I was so afraid to voice an opinion for fear of a negative reaction that I would exhaust myself creating an argument for both perspectives. Oh, how I have grown.
Perhaps my uneasiness came from wanting to keep the peace. But, thankfully, I have come to value my opinion and I have developed enough of a level of comfort in my beliefs to be able to assiduously express those opinions.
I will now take a side. I will vehemently argue for a position that I feel has merit. I truly believe that my point of view has a validity that is worth arguing, and I now have the courage to present the grounds for my debate.
I don’t know when this inner strength became apparent. And although I still deplore any form of negative encounter, I am more than willing to stand my ground and speak up for the things I believe to be important. My integrity defines me. My convictions embody the person I choose to personify and my willingness to defend my argument solidifies the confidence I have in myself.
I have chosen my side. I have drawn my line. And I will defend it with confidence and pride.
It is a painfully contradictory reality in my mind, but this is truly my favorite time of the year. Sure, the leaves are gone and the landscape is a gloomy blend of brown and grey. It’s depressing. And sure, the clock has slipped backwards by sixty minutes and it gets dark at 5:00 pm. That’s disheartening as well. But I have to look at the bright light that now greets me in the morning when I wake up at 6:00 am and think of all of the good things that happen in my life this time of year.
When the doors of the lodge close for the season and the work clock slows to a turtle pace, my life clock has the freedom to pick up its momentum and I have much more spare time to spend doing things for others.
There is something inherently fulfilling about being able to give my time and my skills to causes that have taken up residence in my heart. Last winter was the first of hopefully many that groups of locals gathered to make freezer crockpot meals for a family who lost their home to fire while in the hospital delivering twins. We banded together, gave our Thyme and our time, and filled their freezer with a few months worth of meals. So many of the group commented on how wonderful they felt being able to help.
And this year will be the fourth year I have organized a Toy Drive for the local children. To say the response has been incredible would be an egregious understatement. My heart swells so much when the time comes to pack up the toys for delivery that I am overwhelmed by emotion.
I had always looked at volunteers in silent awe. I knew they must feel some reward to give their time, their generosity or even just their smile or a touch of their hand to help someone’s day become a little brighter, but I had no idea how truly euphoric the feeling was until I began giving my time. And now that I have had a taste of that….I will always want more. If you have never had the chance to do any volunteer work and the opportunity presents itself to put up your hand to help, in any way, I promise you won’t regret it!
On Saturday, I spent a couple of hours at our local Foodland trying to promote our small curling club. We had a tiny table set up with a lone chair, our club banner and some flyers with information about our open houses and our membership rates. What I thought was going to be a couple of hours of chatting about the club turned into a very eye-opening experience and a great deal of fodder for this blog post.
If you have ever shopped in a grocery store, you have undoubtedly seen small town clubs raising awareness (or funds) for their groups. Having never been on this side of the table before, I was ill-prepared for the events that transpired.
Many locals did stop at the table. To their good fortune, and our misfortune, they were snow birds counting the days until they left for the sunny south. We did receive a collection of names to add to our list of possible new members. But what I didn’t expect were the reactions of the multitude of people going by who would do anything to avoid eye contact with me.
Let me remind you, I was not selling anything or asking for money. Most shoppers picked up their pace as they passed me, looking straight ahead as if trying to remember where they parked their car. Several people didn’t even want to know why I was sitting in that cold lobby, they just told me they didn’t have any cash and kept moving. One lady went so far as to tell me she had already donated! This generous stranger had somehow anonymously given money to our little curling club and nobody on the executive committee were any the wiser.
The crowning glory was a middle-aged woman who, as she pushed her full grocery cart past me, simply responded “NO” when I had asked, “How are you today?”.
I was in awe of how quickly people were willing to dismiss me, to turn a blind eye and not even take a moment to understand why I was there. My presence wasn’t threatening. I was not holding my hand out asking for anything. To say I was disappointed by the reactions of those people is an egregious understatement. And I can only hope that if I ever have a knee-jerk reaction to a similar situation, that I’m not such a jerk about it.
“Three things cannot be long hidden – the sun, the moon and the truth.” ~ Buddha
~~
I have lied. I have told untruths throughout my life. Whether it has been to protect another or to surreptitiously protect myself, words born from the fictitious have previously escaped my lips. But as a great student of life, I learned early in the game that lying only creates a web in which we will eventually become entangled.
Lies beget more lies. Soon enough, the merry-go-round of deception increases its momentum and those who intentionally expound on their distorted reality are eventually hurtled into the real world at full speed. And when their trickery finally meets the facts of sensibility, the results can be disastrous.
Small white lies aside, I like to think of myself as an honest person. I leave the fiction in my life to my writing and deal with my life in the most honorable way I can. Being honest simply means I am living my truth. Being the most sincere version of me allows me to never have to think twice about the words that have escaped my lips. And just being truthful with myself grants me the luxury of never having to second guess the reflections I share with anyone else because I don’t ever have to keep track of what I have said in the past.
Big or small, lies are lies. And when you know a lie has been spoken aloud by another, it is enough to make you question the factual integrity of anything else they say. Knowing you are being lied to is bad enough….but knowing you aren’t worth the truth is excruciating.
polysyllabic profundities 