Smile

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“A smile is the curve that can set everything straight.”  ~ Phyllis Diller

Whether a smile is formed to placate another person, or the muscles are drawn upwards in a genuine feeling of pleasure, that smile sends a great deal of positive energy into the surrounding space.  It is contagious.  The small amount of effort used to contort the facial muscles required to smile is a mere drop in the bucket compared to the return on your investment.  We all live in a business world, and the bottom line, the ROI, is the quintessential pot of gold at the end of the proverbial rainbow.  But what if the corporations and the highly educated leaders at the helm of those business models are missing the most important, yet the simplest element?

An effortless expression of friendliness can break down barriers – far beyond any tangible barriers we can grasp.  A smile can lighten the mood, set the tone for a conversation and alleviate any preconceived anxiety.  A smile – something so simple that can envelop so many with the least amount of effort.

With the overwhelming number of things that can be taken as misfortunes, each facet of our lives still presents beauty, depth and a myriad of things to be able to create that smile.  Life has not always been a bouquet of roses, but standing on my deck tonight in temperatures far colder than anticipated, I looked up into a very starry night and smiled.  I smiled because I chose to live in a place that allows me to see those stars.  I smiled because, even though not every thing is perfect in my life,  I am content.  I smiled because there is so much potential for me to conquer my dreams.  And I smiled because every time I inhale and exhale, I breathe life into my life.

Smile because you are here.  Smile because every day affords you a clean slate and you can choose to do whatever you want to do.  Smile because people love you.  Whatever reason makes you feel that joy, just smile, and pass that joy on to someone else.  It is the best gift you can give.

 

Weekly writing challenge – A picture is worth 1000 words

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It seemed perfectly innocent.  They were freshly bathed, well dressed, almost too well dressed for a Tuesday morning had I thought about it, and they both presented themselves with an intelligence far beyond their years.  Their mother seemed embarrassed when they both ran to me, each clutching one of my hands in their tiny grips.  Neither of them seemed afraid, nor did they show much emotion at all, and for a moment we just stood, unmoving, holding hands as if this were a natural occurrence.

Perplexed and without knowing how to react, I looked to their mother for some guidance.  Although trying to maintain her poise, she seemed distant and somewhat aloof.  When she finally regained her composure, she smoothed her dress, approached the three of us and complimented me on my suit.  The children remained reticent as the idle banter of adults hovered like cartoon balloons above their heads, but their grips never wavered.

She asked if I would like a coffee, so we walked a few blocks, sharing idle conversation, the children never losing their hold on my hands.  There were no introductions made, so my comments were relegated to generalities.  She was referred to as ‘little girl’ and he was called ‘strapping lad’.  They seemed content with these monikers and never once did they volunteer their birth names.

When the little girl finally spoke, her voice was so hushed it was almost impossible to hear over the din of the crowd.  “My dad died.  You look like him.”   My heart seemed to quiver in my chest and I felt it break into a thousand shards.  I wanted to let go of the boy’s hand and hug her.  I wanted to tell her everything would be okay, but his grip remained firm so all I could do was squeeze her hand and give her a wink.

I had been so distracted by the children that I hadn’t noticed the row of houses instead of the coffee shops I had anticipated.  The children had stopped in front of a brick facade and, with their stoned expressions, they turned to face their mother.  The camera recorded that moment before I had a chance to react.

With their grips remaining firm, the children guided me up the stairs towards the house.  The mother had managed to beat me to the door and fumbled to get the key into the lock.  The hinges on the door vehemently disagreed with being opened and argued every inch of the way.  Once inside the house, the children released their grip on my hands and stood together, an immovable fortress blocking the way back to the door.

As my eyes adjusted to the lack of daylight, the row of pictures in the foyer began to materialize.  Each photo, almost an exact replica of what I suspected the picture would look like that was just taken outside.  Although the little girl and the strapping lad were in different colored apparel, the photo would have been an exact replica.  My heart rate increased.  When the strapping lad finally spoke, my blood turned to ice.  “Welcome home, daddy.”

As the words ‘I’m not your daddy’ tumbled from my lips, I felt a dull crack at the base of my skull.  It would be the last thing I ever felt.

There’s no place like home

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If you read my post yesterday, you’ll know I awoke out of a comfortable sleep and repeated the phrase “white rabbit” three times.  It’s an old family tradition meant to bring luck for the remaining days of that month.  I do believe we create our own luck to some extent, but there are definitely external forces, with perhaps a bit of Karma thrown in for good measure, that help propel us into those moments of good fortune.

I haven’t checked my astral projections to know if my stars were aligned yesterday (I don’t really do that), but the day was full of positive energy and the God’s seem to smile favorably upon me in many ways.  Probably the most exciting news was the possibility of writing a page for a local magazine that has a feature written by selected guest writers about the area that I am proud to call my home.  The decision will be made after the editor has decided that my writing prowess cuts the mustard, but I’m hopeful that I will pass the test.

Writing, to me, is about combining things I truly believe in with an honesty that the reader can not only relate to, but can find charm and warmth in the words that I feel strongly about putting on a page.  Writing is about bringing life and imagery to the forefront of the reader’s mind and helping them experience the same passion I feel for the subject about which I so diligently write and rewrite.

I know another blogger (and successful author) who is making the pilgrimage back to a place she truly calls home.  It is her muse and her refuge from a world that she blended into, but never could truly call her home.  I know that she will find solace in enveloping herself in the place she can genuinely feel like she is herself and that natural landscape will welcome her back with open arms.  There is no place like home.

My desire is that the panorama of my daily life and the poetry of my words will collide to create a spectral portrait and do justice to the beauty in which I am fortunate enough to spend my days and nights.  It is the song of my soul.  It is my true home.

With my writing cap on and my fingers poised above the keyboard, I will click my ruby slippers three times and forge into a tale of love for a landscape that has embedded itself into the cells of my being.  Home is where the heart is, and my heart only beats here.

The circle of a relationship, not the chain of command

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The family resort at which I have been employed for many years has just closed again after another successful season.  If I were to describe it, I would tell you to picture Kellerman’s from Dirty Dancing,  and that is where I work (sans Patrick Swayze and the watermelons!)

I began working there in 1986 and after leaving and coming back, and leaving and coming back, I have been there consistently for the last 10 years.  A lot has changed in the economy and much has changed in terms of the expectations of guests, but the relationship between staff and management remains the one constant that you can take to the bank.

Creating a work environment that everyone can thrive in is the key to a successful business.  Not only do we put great pride in creating a summer experience for our guests that they will cherish for years to come, but we put the same effort into making the staff experience a summer that they will never forget.  The chain of command still exists, but we are focused on harnessing the positive energy and feedback we get from creating that circle of a relationship and leaving the hierarchy of those chains of command to less fortunate businesses that just don’t get it.

It’s like living a continual episode of Undercover Boss, but we are never under cover.  We embrace our employees and engage them in dialogue. We value their input from a perspective that we may never be fortunate enough to have and make them feel like they are part of the progression. And in turn, we gain the true respect of those summer employees because they not only feel like a part of the process, but they are able to have their own experience within that ever-moving mechanism.

The true value of any business is its employees, and the more energized and interactive they are, the more true success you will obtain from both sides of the work experience.  I truly appreciate everyone I have had the pleasure to have had work with me, not for me, and look forward to many more years of our staff and guest experiences being unparalleled.

Chasing the dream

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Do you ever take a moment to ask yourself if you are really doing what you want to?  Are you living the dream?

Nine to five, Monday through Friday.  This is the reality for so many us…..toiling, sweating, dealing with people we would not wish on even the worst of our enemies, and for what?  Sure, the steady pay cheque each second Friday is somewhat rewarding and it pays the bills.  But are we missing a very important piece of the bigger puzzle?

So often we tread through life in a direction that we never thought we would be heading.  Circumstances and obligations seem to navigate our course and we lose sight of the things that are most important – our dreams.  Reality has a way of shifting those dreams to the back burner and we are left knowing that what we truly desire simmers on low heat and never gets a chance to reach a full boil.

Please don’t misinterpret my musings and think that I am not appreciative of my job, my co-workers and my current career.  That is not the emotion I wish to convey or the drive behind my words.  But there is a piece of my puzzle that I have yet to obtain, and a dream unrealized is a dream worth fighting for.

I have many passions.  Some stave themselves from parading in the forefront of my reality and some seep into my subconscious to give me subtle reminders that they are awaiting recognition.  Some have been recently awakened and welcome you each time you read my thoughts on this blog site.  But there are still dreams to be realized.

The cafe awaits…..and as my soups come to a boil on the stove and my cakes are in the bakery counter, I will be the one writing in the corner at the small table with the laptop and the glass of red wine.  See you there!

Tame the drive, not the driver

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I need to put the “drive” back in my drive.   Since the tender age of 17 when I first tested the waters of being behind the wheel of a vehicle, I always had a manual transmission – it has defined my driving experience. Although it was a rocky beginning, we made our way through the rough patches and have forged a bond that is unparalleled.

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I’m not going to go beyond my comfort zone and hop into the driver’s seat of a Formula 1 race car yet (although I do know someone who has just done that and loved it!!), but I need to feel like I am in control when I am commanding the power of a vehicle, and shifting gears gives me that sense of efficacy that I lack when putting an automatic transmission into drive and mundanely steering through the back roads.  These roads are meant for driving, and to me, and others who have voiced their opinion, driving an automatic transmission is just aiming.  If you want to really know your vehicle, know how it loves to hug curves, drop from fifth gear to third to pass the chump  law abiding citizen in front of you, that manual transmission is the way to your best driving experience.

The decision to shift away from the only driving I’d ever really known was driven by my choice in vehicles.  (please note the puns in that sentence, I worked hard on those).  At the time I was ready to lease my next four-wheeled experience, I was mad for the Honda CR-V.  I loved every thing about it.  But there was one major drawback.  It only came in automatic transmission.  It was decision that weighed heavily on me, and it took every fibre of my being to make the choice to move away from seamlessly shifting those gears by just listening to the advice of my engine to pushing a stick into drive and moving the steering wheel back and forth.  It is a decision I have come to regret.

Although my lease is only at the halfway point, my go-to guy at Honda is busily looking for a buy out for my CR-V so I am able to get back into a car I can actually drive – not just a vehicle that I can steer and get myself from A to B.  I want to be on the highway again and feel that engine cry for me to shift it from fourth to fifth as those tires burn up some asphalt.

Learning how to drive a stick-shift gave me a sense of freedom that I didn’t realize I had until long after I learned how to master the smooth shifting of those gears.  I could drive any motor vehicle built to grace the pavement.  As a teen, I worked for a property maintenance company that relied on an old pick-up truck as they forged their way into a growing business in cottage country.  The truck had a manual transmission – three on the tree – and I was one of the only staff members that had a comfort level with the truck to be able to drive it.  I took great pride in the fact that I could command any vehicle that I was afforded the luxury to drive, and knowing the subtleties of that manual engine gave me a sense of power.

Never again will I make a decision based on looks and my inability to fight for what I truly want.  My ride has to challenge me.  It has to demand that I put forth the same effort as it does so we may both enjoy the ride from first to fifth.

So jump in the driver’s seat and weigh in – automatic or standard?

Children left unattended will be given an espresso and a puppy (Weekly writing challenge)

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The sign is distinct, yet tactful.  A similar sign adorns the pillars in the dining room of the family resort at which I am employed and is a subtle reminder to parents that they are responsible for their children’s behaviour or the consequences could be dire.  To my knowledge, we have never given away a puppy or offered a child a libation of the purest caffeine, but the impending threat is still felt within those walls.

The idiom “children should be seen and not heard” was a popular string of words when I was rapidly growing through my childhood.  Back in those days, and I may be slightly showing my age, we respected our parents wishes.  We didn’t put our elbows on the table during meals, we didn’t talk with our mouths full and we wouldn’t even entertain the idea of leaving the family dinner table without being excused.  Sadly, (or not, depending on how you look at it) I would have never been a candidate for the espresso or the free puppy.

I write this post with mixed emotions.

Kids learn by doing.  Experience incorporates more of a lesson than words can ever teach.  If they never have the opportunity to encounter culture and fine dining, they may never learn to be cultured or understand how to act in a situation that is far removed from the “norm”.   But parents need to know when the child is ready for that learning curve.  Kids need worldly experience, however those learning moments must be punctuated by behavioural corrections, if necessary. Tackling that battle at too young an age will only frustrate the child, as well as the surrounding crowd.  When they are at an age that they don’t fully comprehend what is expected of them, they are bound to lash out. Therein lies the rub.

Adults that wish to experience exquisite meals enhanced by vintage wines and ambiance don’t aspire to have that savoir-faire tarnished by young diners that have not had the opportunity to learn the etiquette required to frequent such an establishment.  I would not ever deny a child an opportunity to learn from such a dining experience, but perhaps there is a happy medium.

The same can be said for any cultural undertaking.  Although children need exposure to all of life’s mysteries, there needs to be a divide between the right time and the right place.  And maybe more importantly, the right attitude towards that broadening experience.  Yes, children need to learn, but not at the expense of others attempting to allow themselves that rare moment that they are able to steal precious seconds of escape from their day-to-day reality.

Give children the benefit of cultural awareness, but also of situational awareness.  They may not be able to define the lesson they are learning, but it will serve them well into their adult lives.  Take them to a fine dining restaurant.  Take them to the museum.  But take them when it is more appropriate for younger people to frequent those particular venues while they are still in the learning stages of their development.  They will still gain the much required knowledge to take forward into their teen and adult years, but they will still show the respect and allow the freedom for adults to thrive in an atmosphere that is designed for a crowd that is over a certain age.

Let the children learn in rich and vivid detail, but also let them learn the boundaries and obstacles that are held within the confines of the rules of etiquette.   There is a lesson is everything we do – and maybe dining with a toddler at Nobu at 7:00 pm is not the lesson that the pre-schooler needs to learn at that particular moment of their developmental stage.   Respect for children’s knowledge is accepted and encouraged.  Respect for an adult’s sanctuary is priceless.

Forget the door – look for the window

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I am a big fan of old musicals and one of my favorites is The Sound of Music.  There is a line in that show that has always resonated within me – “Wherever God closes a door, somewhere he opens a window”.

So many times we become obsessed with that closed door.  We torture ourselves to find the reason the door closed in the first place without even thinking that another portal may have opened for us to venture into.  We spend countless minutes and hours wondering what would have happened had that door remained open when the opportunity for a new adventure sits in plain sight with unlimited access.

Having that door close is not an ending.  Although the task of finding another threshold is daunting, we need to grasp the possibility that an alternate passageway is available to us, and we need to seize the opportunity to climb through that window. We need to view that window as a new beginning.

Doors close for a reason.  And that reason exists as much as the reason for that window to open.  Life is presented to us as a menu of choices.  You can choose to bang on that closed door until your knuckles bleed, but you can also decide that perhaps the open window is far more inviting once you realize its potential.

Moving beyond that closed door may be difficult, but if you give that open window a chance, you may find that the space beyond those broadening panes of glass may provide more of a panorama than that door ever could.  Embrace the possibility of change.  Those inviting window panes may hold the key to something you never thought possible.

See your world from a different perspective.  Sometimes we need to see our existence beyond the confines to which we have become accustomed and allow ourselves a completely different view.

Taking inventory of your assets

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In this ever-changing economy, we all take stock of the value we have in our midst.   If we are lucky enough to have a portfolio or own a home, these things become more valuable in this rapidly evolving conundrum we call life.  Interest rates undulate like the sky when it is littered with the phenomenon of Northern Lights and nothing is certain.

Taking inventory of my assets takes on an entirely new meaning when tragedy befalls our community.   A horrific two car accident took the life of a woman and sent three others to hospital today.  As I was driving home from a shopping day with good friends, my route was diverted to back roads to allow the rescue teams to diligently put their skills to work – to control the scene and save as many lives as possible.

Because we live in such a small area, the chances of one of my loved ones being in or near that accident increases exponentially.  My fingers began rapidly pressing the numbers I have in my favorites list to take stock of the assets I have in my life – my family and my friends.  I know I am not the only person that has this urgent need to hear those familiar voices on the other end of the phone and knowing that they are safe brings an immeasurable amount of relief.

These are the assets that have more worth than any home I will own.  Their value in my life far outweighs any 401K that I could enrich and the benefit I get from having them in my life exceeds any investments to which I may contribute.

My thoughts and prayers go out to the family that lost a valued asset in their lives today, and I can only hope the other victims survive this horrible event.   It is unfortunate that a catastrophe such as this serves as such a glaring reminder to hold those close to you even closer.

Too much information – aka “The Overshare”

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I feel compelled to talk about these people.  You know the ones that will tell you every single detail of things that a) you probably don’t want to know, b) have absolutely nothing to do with you in the first place or c) will completely gross you out.  They’ll tell you in fantastic detail about their bowel movements, the texture and velocity of their projectile vomit, their sexual escapades (including dismounts), or a wealth of other subjects that you probably have no desire to hear.  And now, with the joys of social media, everyone can read it on Facebook or Twitter!!

There are some insights into the human psyche that the masses are not meant to know, nor do they need to know.   What has been heard, cannot be unheard and what has been seen, cannot be unseen. We are simply unable to forget what has just been written or uttered, perhaps because the over share had such a perverse effect on our ocular nerves or ear canals that parts of our brain cells are slowly mutating.  Either way, that information will probably take up precious space in our frontal lobe and infect some fleeting moments reserved for day-dreaming.  You don’t want to think about them, but they seep into your thoughts and burn your brain like a syringe full of battery acid.

To these people…..I beg you, please think about what you are saying and ask yourself…..is this too much information??  Does this person really need to know about my infectious and possibly gangrenous warts?  Unless you are sexually involved with this person, chances are the answer is a resounding “NO”.  While your verbiage continues to spill out of your mouth without being filtered, we will inevitably be the one’s smiling and nodding while your mouth is making the motions of talking. We have just switched gears, completely tuned out what you are saying and are really not listening to you in the slightest.  Sorry, but it’s true.

Don’t get me wrong.  I love keeping in touch with people and getting caught up on the latest gossip, but there are rules and limitations to what you should share.  Be aware of the unwritten rules of dispensing unwanted information.  Take heed of the effect that stepping beyond those boundaries will have on the unsuspecting person on the receiving end and limit your banter to things that will potentially be of interest to both parties.

Have you ever fallen victim to over-sharing your thoughts?