From the desk of Teresa Jordan, Executive Director – Like most people, I have a pretty standard morning routine, with different preparations done at different times in order for me to leave the house for work at a set time. 

One morning this week, all was going just as planned when right in the middle of this well-choreographed dance party, the power went out. As I live in the country a power outage is a double challenge as the water supply is also affected. 

Now we do not have power outages that often – maybe four times per year. However, from the reaction on this particular morning, one would think that we live off the grid most of the time. There was no panic, no exclamations, no real bother. Knowing that I was now in the complete darkness brushing my teeth in the bathroom my partner brought me two lanterns. My son strolled out to the pond to get some “toilet flushing water” while my partner lit our gas stove with a match and started boiling water for my travel tea mug. 

The power outage changed everything, but the dance continued almost uninterrupted by the sudden new challenge. And that was that, I finished getting ready by lantern in the bathroom, got dressed, packed up my lunch, made my tea, waltzed off to work. 

What made the transition so smooth? Why was no panic or frantic wondering about what to do next or how to adjust to make the morning routine happen inside the added challenge? I think there were two things going on. First-off, we had experience with the power outage scenario – not that often, but they had happened before. Secondly, we had each other. As a team we just worked it out, did what needed to be done, stayed focused on the tasks we needed to do and helped one another. 

There was definitely magic happening on both counts. Experience with different challenges sets us up to be able to face them, or something similar, again with calm resolve.  And having a team of people around you to stare down and overcome the problem is so much more buoying than facing it alone. 

Challenges, setbacks, misunderstandings and lights out moments are the stuff of life and all we can take real control over our own responses to that stuff.  There is a choice in every challenge – rail against the darkness of it, stay alone in a dark bathroom, and complain about the injustice of a challenge when you did not want it.  Or seek out a light, lean on the team for problem-solving and calmly carry on with the now-new circumstances.   

Somewhere between flushing the toilet with pond water and putting on lipstick by battery-operated lantern, the challenge can be wrestled to the ground. And working with a team’s collective experience and knowledge, the light on the other side will return.

From the desk of Teresa Jordan, Executive Director – This past weekend I spent quite a bit of time beside a lake, staying in a cabin on Lake Bernard.

In the evenings I saw the sunset in the long stretches across the water. In the mornings, I watched the mist of the sunrise sweeping across the lake. During the day, I savoured the sparkling sunshine dancing on the waves. In the early mornings, I watched birds hunting for fish and people fishing in boats, plying their trade in hope of a fresh breakfast. 

The most wondrous thing throughout the weekend, however, was listening to the lake. With the exceptional weather I was able to leave the windows open and I could hear the waves, the sea gulls, the wind sweeping across the massive body of water.

Here is what I loved… at the side of this ancient lake, in the glory of this wonderful, unexpected fall weather, there was no pandemic, there were no closures, no statistics, no fear of the unknown.  The water was there full of fish and other wildlife, just as it has always been over hundreds of years. The waves were gently lapping against the rocky shore and, little by little, wearing the rocks down with a quiet, steady rhythm – as they always have.

Robert Frost is quoted as saying that the three words he knows for sure about life are: “It goes on.”We are facing extreme times, piled on top of the usual array of challenges in life, and it is easy to get overwhelmed and anxious. Find your Lake Bernard – find a spot where you can reconnect, listen to nature, listen to your own heartbeat, be still and quiet for even a few moments. In those moments of stillness, you can find a strength that will see you through to the next challenge.

Think of those gentle waves as they roll into shore, just lapping against the rocks of the Canadian shield and, without a cutting torch or chisel or anything powerful is cutting deep grooves, little by little over time. We do not need to search for a next big thing or heroic epic effort that will become legend. Like those quiet waves on the gentle lake, we can make a difference just in our steady efforts, in our careful decisions, in our gentle moves to look out for one another. 

There was nothing loud or spectacular at Lake Bernard, but in its quiet, steady,  beauty it left its lasting mark on me and set me up to face the “right now” challenges of the world again. They go on, all of the days and months and years, and the gentle quiet efforts of all us, they leave their mark.

Life is going on, in this harder time as in better times, and sparkles are dancing in quiet corners. We just need to be looking in their direction.

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From the desk of Teresa Jordan, Executive Director – Had some excellent training this past week about relationship building and I was surprised that so much of the content was about good communication. I reflected on how, ultimately, the bedrock of relationship is communication, understanding, holding space, being clear and really seeking to understand another person.

I am always surprised to see the breakdown of communication – actual words said being only 7% of a conversation, paraverbal (messages that we transmit through the tone, pitch and pacing of our voices) at 55% and body language at 38%. This means that all those friends with whom I largely only text have no idea what I am saying most of the time. And in this time where conversation is mostly constrained to virtual communications, we have to work harder to understand what is being said. This is challenging in a time when it also feels like we are working just a little harder to do everything that we do.

Luckily, the pay off to good communication is a huge one. If we are really focused – not on what to say next, not on the TV show in the background, not on thoughts of what might be for supper – really focused on what is
being said and how – everyone rises. We can understand not only
the message, but the person, a little better.

I think we all know how it feels to be really heard, really seen, understood and valued. This is a gift we can offer over and over, to all. It takes practice to quiet all of the other noise, to seek clarification, and to pay close attention.

Listening creates opportunity to see a person freshly, to learn something new and to create a new link. If the words are only 7%, let’s get curious about all that we are missing with each other – what we are really saying and who we really are.

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From the desk of Teresa Jordan, Executive Director – I think I speak for most of the human race when I say that doing hard things, or maybe more accurately complex things, is often left as long as possible, often sliding to the back burner, often procrastinated about to the absolute end of the time frame allowable. As a for instance when I finished my children’s “baby book” scrapbooks February 2019, said children were 18 and 20 years of age.

Some of us around the office call this tendency to procrastinate to the limit “eating the frog.” We know that ‘it’ must be done but who really wants to tuck into that slimy, undesirable, long put off or hard to swallow project right now?

I have always had a hard covered notebook in which to capture all of my messages, notes and ‘to do’ lists. From time to time, the big frog item gets copied and re-copied week after week in a succession of to-do lists until the very last minute. In some cases, copying out my colour-coded and comprehensive ‘to do’ list is the job choose to do rather than actually doing the dreaded task!

A friend recently reminded me that hard things are best done with gusto, like taking Buckley’s cough syrup. There is no pleasure in sipping away while you listen to your favourite show tunes. That stuff is horrible, but necessary; you just have to hold your nose and belt it back. And I guess it’s the same for those dreaded tasks big and small. The huge policy review, the grant application, the report, the survey roll-up, the letter that you must write to friend you have hurt – we can imagine that all taste horrible.

So what is a girl with a colour-coded, hard-covered, beautiful ‘to do’ list supposed to take away from this bit of thinking? I guess I need to watch for signs that I am putting something off, make a plan more often to move it to the front burner, and never mind the nibbling… just eat the frog in one gulp.

I think we all know that once the job is done, there is an almost instant relief in not having it hanging over us, a pride in having conquered it, excitement in crossing it off rather than transcribing it yet another time. Similarly to the Buckley’s scenario, we are going to feel better almost immediately.

From the desk of Teresa Jordan, Executive Director – Since my family could not gather for Thanksgiving, I suggested we post that for which we are grateful on the private Facebook page that we share. I asked each sibling to post on Sunday and then immediately began crafting what I thought would be the mushiest and most profound post of the day (mine, of course).

To my surprise, on the Saturday before the deadline, my youngest sister beat me to the punch with the most sincere, introspective and delightful post. She mentioned each sibling and how much they mean to her, listing what she was most thankful about for each, and then for the whole family.

To put this sister’s post in perspective, you should know that her thank you comments at Thanksgiving dinners of the past four years or so have all focused on her favourite alcoholic beverage. So, her contribution this year was absolutely unexpected, wonderfully heartwarming and wobbling.

My youngest sister’s comments set the tone and soon everyone was adding insights equally engaging about their gratitude for in this big, slightly functional family.

This experience with my sister is a truly good reminder not to assume or make predictions based on past behaviour or the little personality boxes in which we like to catalogue people.

All of this left me unsure of my next move, where did my planned wholehearted, well-crafted mush-fest belong now? I found myself following my husband’s lead for comments and our profound contemplation was this “We are thankful that on Thanksgiving weekend pumpkin pie is an acceptable breakfast food.”

And I am thankful for the nudge that nobody should be judged on who they were even yesterday – things could be entirely different today.

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From the desk of Teresa Jordan, Executive Director – Last week marked a milestone in my life that had me reflecting on who I was 25 years ago – where I thought I was headed, what and who was important to me, who I was busy with. 

I think the reason we mark the anniversaries of different occasions is perhaps for this sort of thing – looking at how far we have come, marking the passage of time and noticing that perhaps – in looking closely at photos – we have in fact aged. A quick little check in, to notice and appreciate how far we have come, or grown, or achieved or learned. 

Here’s the thing – I know what that 22 year old girl in the photographs was thinking, dreaming, wanting and worrying over. I know the plans that she had for her long life and I know where she thought her paths were leading. 

“Dear Young Teresa, almost nothing turned out the way you expected. In fact sometimes that path was lost, flooded, turned to loose gravel and shards of glass. At other times it was so surprisingly glorious you could not have dreamed it better. I know that you got mired in disaster and distress lots of times, but you made it through, you were made to do hard things and to find glittery happiness sometime. Love Less-Young, Teresa.”

I guess the thing about all this reflection this – I have realized for all my planning, unexpected things happened. For all of my sleepless nights of worry, unexpected things happened. For all of my times of great sadness, or joy, or excitement or stress, unexpected things happened. 

And while I know my nature is to think and plan and worry, if there is any take away from thinking about the anniversary of my first marriage, it is that there is much to be said for trying to stay in the present and be grateful for exactly where you are. 

Yes, I tend to think too much, perhaps worry and plan too much. This reflection has been a good exercise for me; it is a reminder that if I could sum up the last 25 years of my journey – with all its joy, sorrow, laughter, love and tom foolery – it would be that most of it was unexpected. Which is exactly as expected, really.

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From the desk of Teresa Jordan, Executive Director – Many people know that when I recently went on a canoe trip it did not go as planned. Due to unforeseen circumstances, when we needed to get the canoe out of the water I did not have any shoes. 

This lack of footwear presented a challenge being that we were at the side of a bridge and there were hazards, like glass, in the ditch at which we were disembarking. We needed to get the canoe from parallel to shore to turned and headed up the bank. 

In my shoeless state, and the task of taking the top of the canoe up the bank, I almost immediately lost my footing. I found myself laying flat on my back on the bank, in the ditch. 

Laying there I realized that I still had a good hold on the canoe, and with the solid foundation of my position, I could easily turn and lift the craft up and over my sprawled body to where it needed to go. This technique was actually far easier that what I was trying to accomplish in my bare feet!

I have to reflect that something like this ‘canoe scenario’ is not unfamiliar to me. There have been times when I thought I could stay in a job I loved forever and something out of my control changed, or times when relationships that I wanted to be in for the rest of my life, ended. There has been grief, flopped projects, embarrassing misunderstandings and stories I was telling myself about a situation that proved entirely untrue. 

I have been sort of flattened in a proverbial ditch, kind of, a lot. Two things – in the ditch I am done falling, I have come to a stop, resting on the foundation of all that I know to be true, on my skills, my abilities, my family, my connections and what I know to be true about what I can do. I can rest on that solid ground and, since I am facing up, I can start to strategize and move – or move something – forward. 

And even though I am feeling a little battered, a little insignificant and wondering what kind of beer bottle shards are beneath me, if I think, regroup and force myself to actually take in the situation from my unexpected new vantage point, there is usually a new and sometimes better direction for me to go. 

The canoe often still needs to be hoisted, but just as in my ill-fated paddle of two weeks ago, I can usually get done what I need to get done, change my expectations and / or directions and get moving again.  Maybe that is just as it should be… if all things went completely to plan we would miss out on so much – unplanned joy, so many new directions, so many brand new skills. 

When the only direction is up and there is no possibility of actually living in the ditch, solutions, resilience and a new approach will be found. We will all get to where we are meant to go and will find new shoes along the way.

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From the desk of the Executive Director, Teresa Jordan – This past Sunday my son and I packed a lunch and headed off for a canoe paddle down a section of our Pigeon river. The day was wonderful, sunny and cool, and the water was like glass.

While we are not experts, we canoe often, and we quickly found our rhythm. Not sure really what happened, but we failed to communicate, we were perhaps both shifting, and the next thing I knew I was in the very cold water.

The Pigeon river has no real bottom and my jean clad legs were sinking deeper into the unknown. I was in the water, my shoes lost to a muddy grave, and I was cold. My drenched son was bailing with what seemed like a bucket from Barbie’s boat kit, it took a long time.

In those cold minutes in the river I had to focus on one thing: buried in 8 inches of mud, how was I going to get back into the canoe?

Thankfully, Spencer found a root in the riverbed that would hold us high enough to hike ourselves back into the canoe.

So, there we were, drenched, cold, covered in that weird black mud of the river, and back in the canoe with our soggy lunch.

And you know what we did next? We both burst our laughing; we laughed until we cried and promised each other not to tell anyone that we had overturned (editorial note … too late!).

Sometimes miscommunication and or misfortune dumps us into the cold. And while the mud and cold is easy to wallow in, the business at hand is finding a solution that you can stand on. Find the joy of successful problem solving even if it’s covered in mud.

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From the desk of Teresa Jordan, Executive Director – I was recently talking to someone about my drive to Haliburton this week. She responded to my comments about enjoying the drive with the lament of, ” Too bad the leaves were not at their peak.”  While I did not take issue at the time, and probably just said, “Yeah, they do get very beautiful,” I have since been mulling over her reply.

Leaves at their peak seem to last about four minutes. So, for a really short window some autumn analysts declare that a certain region is at its most beautiful. 

What does that even mean? That the maximum number of leaves have turned before the majority have fallen? That the largest amount of different hues is present at the same time? That enjoying the changing leaves is completely a waste of time at any other juncture? 

No, really, I do understand the quest to see leaves at their most beautiful, but what do we miss out on while we are waiting for that peak? It is just like people that say – “I love the idea of learning to ride a horse, so when work slows down, little Johnny graduates from med school and I lose 40 pounds, I am definitely going to learn to ride, it will be tremendous. “

I just drove to Haliburton and yes, we are not even close to that colourful   autumn bounty, but there are leaves changing, there is a touch of colour and the crisp morning air created a kind of mist that accentuated the greens to be wondrous in their own hues. There was beauty all around and I just had to notice.   

I love the fact that most experts agree that perfectionism is a form of procrastination – this is largely because things like my slapdash approach to painting makes perfectly-oriented people cringe and because I know that waiting for the stars to line up takes a really long time. 

Yes, there is such a thing as a peak for most things, but there are plenty of almost-peaks, sort-of-starting-to-be-gorgeous, leaves-half-gone and still-lovely moments all over the place – a huge pile of moments for taking in the leaves exactly how they are, learning to ride and loving it exactly where you are, and just starting to paint like crazy while others perhaps rush to put up a drop sheet and take some pictures down. 

Trees make a fabulous back drop to any road trip any time of year; all we have to do is notice and let our presence and appreciation stay steadfastly at its peak!

Happy autumn!

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From the desk of Teresa Jordan, Executive Director – This past weekend I went for a boat ride down the Scugog river. In case you are picturing cedar planking and white pants, our boat is a 14-foot aluminum vessel, seaworthy and really all we need.

I was struck by the boat launch process. You must back almost into the lake and completely submerge the trailer – both of which seems a little daunting. Then when you are just about to panic, the boat floats off the trailer, you untether it and the vehicle and trailer safely pull on to dry land.

There are all kinds of things in which you must trust – that the boat launch is well conditioned, that the water you are backing into is not full of spikes and nails, that once where you need to be the boat will actually float.

Such is the way that life often seems – we have to back into murky unknowns, have faith in the work of others and be ready to untether in order to really float. On the other side of all those tricky and scary manoeuvres a grand new adventure awaits.

What are we in charge of in this new adventure is the seaworthiness of our boat – making sure that all is ready to embark and when in the right position there will be lift off.

Additionally, in boating and in life, we need to have a good strong hold when the floating starts so that we do not lose hold of the next big excursion.

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