I have said before that I have the privilege of a little cemetery where five generations of my family are buried. I plant flowers each year at two stones and then water regularly. There are about ten stones that have flower beds and when I am there I happily walk around with my quiet thoughts and water all the thirsty annuals. 

Last summer, I got caught up in busy days at work, some camping, some illness and did not get to the cemetery for three weeks. My two beds of flowers were dried out and dead. However, when I looked around the others were alive; they had been watered by people clearly not doing the same as me. I was so saddened that my habit and kind deed had not been returned, and I angrily vowed to only water my own flowers henceforth. 

Here’s the thing though, I know who I am. I know that going to cemetery and walking past those beds in an angry stomp does not serve me well. I know that I enjoy my quiet time walking around contemplating the true meaning of life, talking to my dad, just thinking. I know that all that would be tarnished if I was holding onto this grudge.  After all, what we do for others is not really something of which we keep track so that it can be reciprocated, the doing is the pay off, the peace and the satisfaction it offers to be resolved in the knowledge of who you are, is far more reliable and rewarding than anything others could offer. 

At the end of the day, we all determine our worth, our nature, our way of showing up. Others can make opinions about us that are correct or negative or neutral, it really is not our business and there is little we can do to control the opinions and actions of others. So that just leaves our own selves – we can water, we can fail to  water, we decide. Resist the urge to leave your watering can in the hands of others they can disappoint. Choose who you are and sprinkle that fantasticness all over the place. 

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I attended a session this week on leadership and resilience, and the facilitator offered that while people can experience success on their own, greatness will always be enhanced when we have a network. A place we can drop our tricky problems and have others look them over what we missed. A place we can just listen to the plans and schemes of the group and glean tidbits that make sense for us.  A group with which you feel so that you can just relax and openly talk about things that you fear you have no idea what to do about or if you are even the right person to do it.  Your network is made up of your people, people you know may challenge you but ultimately want you to succeed and do better.  Your networks can include co-workers, friends and family. 

In the same session, we were asked to talk about areas in which we needed to improve, and then create our answers in Play-Doh – an interesting activity crafted by the facilitator.  One participant created a yield sign.  She explained that she often wants to barrel ahead and fix, advise, guide and lead in every situation. So, for her, the yield sign means, slow down, look, listen, engage and merge into what is needed and desired in the interaction. 

I love that analogy. Merging can be about speeding up, waiting, slowing down. (In fact, my daughter will drive up to 10 km out of her way to avoid merging as she gets so nervous deciding what to do.)  Being in a group can mean yielding, listening and challenging, but in the end we are heading in the same direction.  

This past February was my son’s last reading week as he was set to graduate, I took a day off just to spend with him. He offered that I choose the adventure, but then realized my choice would be antique markets and cemeteries, so he thought again.

It’s true, I do like cemeteries. I like history and family trees, and cemeteries have a lot to offer. Every now and then Google pictures makes a collage for me with a wonderful title like July day or summer fun, and inevitably there will be some shots of flowers, family, pets, and a few tombstones.

I always laugh at the mash up of things that I photograph. Right in the middle of captured joyful moments are these stone markers of lives lived. Tombstones do reflect that a life ended, but also mark where a person who lived on this earth for a period of time now rests – a person who had dreams and joys and experienced storms of different kinds.

I guess while I do not plan to frame any of these masterpieces the collages do reflect how I spent some time. It’s a tricky thing balancing living with the end of life, balancing joy with sorrow, knowing that we each need to truly live a full life and to completely live with an understanding of all the colours of lives. There are a lot of tombstones in our lives, the ends of things, the paths not taken, the people lost, the job changes, the relationships changed or ended. At the end of all that there is this mix, flowers of joy, people that made the sunset brighter and clouds to help us know that while we live, we face it all.

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There is one absolutely direct path from my home to Peterborough, it forms almost a straight line, but I do not take it that often. It has high hills that you cannot see beyond, it spends most of the winter snow covered, there are often tractors and, most compelling, my mechanic told me to stop driving on it.  There are frequently potholes and rough patches, and my mechanic was tired of my broken springs and bent rims. 

Recently I that route again – after all, it is direct, scenic and leisurely compared to the highway.  I was delighted to find that 80% of the road is now paved and wonderfully smooth.  So yes, there are still blind hills and tractors, but the thick black pavement has smoothed all my mechanic’s wrinkle lines. 

Made me think of all the other things that we sometimes stop doing or dreaming or trying for lots of reasons. Lack of time, shortness of resources, low energy, obstacles that outnumber us, all could make us take detours or stop. Do we ever go back? To check in on change, perhaps we have more time because the kids are older, we have some resources because of a job change or we have developed skills and stamina since last time. 

How sad would it be if our response about our long-held dream was that we tried it and it was too hard and so we no longer travel there. What if that was something stupendously enjoyable or rewarding, and now we avoid it?  Of course, there was every chance that the road could have been exactly as before, but how wondrous that it was so different. I can get along with tractors and keep right on the hills so that from time to time I can enjoy my drive that much more. Have another look at a path you left behind, could be a far different road that you travel today, than when you sojourned there last.

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I like to have a cup of tea at the end of my dinner, and I found this habit when I got together with my first husband. This was what his whole family did, and it seemed a nice way to end my meal so soon became my habit. That husband has moved on and I don’t know what he does, but his family is still in my life, and I recently had supper with them. At the beginning of the meal, they asked if I still enjoyed tea at the end; when I said I did they brewed some for me. I was then offered the single serving of tea. 

It struck me as remarkable that for different reasons all of these relations no longer had a cup of tea at the end of their meal. They have all changed their habit and I am still performing it, learned from them even thought I spend very little time with them now.  

It is interesting to me that this type of thing happens in our lives more often than we probably know. We learn and improve ourselves, others learn from others, and those ripples just keep on going and changing for all of us. Now, sure, tea is not a revolutionary life changer, but lots of other things I have learned have made me the person I am now. Are those who mentored me now doing things differently after following yet more models?

 Writer Richard Bach challenges us to keep on growing and becoming truer to ourselves. He tells us that in the discovery of who we really are there is the ultimate freedom, and that we discover that freedom by reflecting, learning, leaning and growing with others all around us. 

I like tea at the end of my meal and now I seem to be the only one in that crowd that still does.  I will stick to what I like until I find something that works better, if that happens. Sometimes we could make a wrong move, but I think we can agree the living is in the moving, the flying, the trying and the ripples of change and growth that happens when we both grow with the crowd and leave other crowds behind. 

Image source: https://openverse.org/

It’s summer holidays and my two nephews are old enough to stay home on their own. Each has a cell phone for times when parental advice is needed. 

Last week on the first day of summer break both called their mom to convey that they hated each other. I may be talking to a small crowd here, but the boys decided to start training their calves for showing and this is hot, miserable, infuriating work; calves, in my opinion, were meant to be unencumbered by a lead and run free. I don’t know the details but tempers ran high, and each of my nephews made venting calls to my sister-in-law about their complete frustration with each other. 

The younger ended his call with a request – could he have an ice cream sandwich? My genius sister-in-law answered that he could on one condition – he needed to take out two, give one to his brother and sit together with him to eat them.   

A few moments later the barn cam proved in fact that the instructions were followed, and the two teenage boys were having an ice cream sandwich and talking.  I am sure that the boys were absolutely angry with one another for a difference of opinion or practice. Then add the heat, the pressure of knowing that the calves needed to be trained and top it off with the completely uncooperative 200 pounds of Angus – the perfect recipe for a summer melt down. 

We have all faced this, the team approach that doesn’t feel like a team at all; the pressure of the project that has no idea that it is supposed to go where you want it to go and then the added environmental factors.  Doors slam, tempers rise and inevitably the parties retreat to separate corners to keep on being mad at all that is wrong.

How to break through the swirling one direction funnel cloud of anger and resentment? In this case food, but the solution could be anything to change the direction, find common ground again or even get in the same room. If we are on a team we have common ground, we just need to get back to some semblance of calm to remember it, to find it, to be with one another and work it through.  

Next time I am tempted to retreat to my own space to be right while uncomplicated by any opposing facts, I will remember that an ice cream sandwich-like moment of sharing and a chat could be what’s needed. Now this was day one; this could be a very long summer for my nephews. Best to stock up on ice cream sandwiches just in case, methinks.  

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I went to an annual general meeting this week for an organization that I have supported, and been a member of, for seven years. I was thinking about my own AGMs and how we love our members to attend, and I had the time so I thought I would offer my support.

It was a well-organized meeting, and I was certainly welcomed by the general manager as a member and given a package and voting card. But then not a single soul spoke to me.  

I smiled at people at the coffee line, I took my seat; a person sat on either side of me, but immediately became engrossed in the package and their phones. The meeting began and I even asked a question, which was answered. But upon the conclusion of the meeting the very tight knit board and few members who were clearly former board members began to close ranks and chat about upcoming events.  So, I left.  

And now I can write about the experience of being welcomed but not included, being present but without a valued role, being invited but not being. I think it is important to reflect on the experience – no one at the meeting set out to make me feel less, but they were preoccupied in their own endeavours and probably assumed it was someone else’s role to include me. They had their own thoughts and motivations to deal with, no one is a villain in my story. 

However, this experience can remind all of us how to be hero. Presence is not enough, when looking to include we need to step out of our comfort zone and make some personal connections. I think sometimes we abandon groups and clubs quickly if we first feel as I did, like I was not really wanted. I think it serves both us and others well if we just make a commitment to start a conversation, make a connection, take that moment to welcome the stranger, even if we are the stranger.  Many would offer that as humans we all just want to be seen and be valued.  I am sure that if we commit to this over and over the doors of true inclusion will open for all.  And yes, if I have time I will attend next year, I still love the organization – and there was coffee.  🙂

Photo source: Openverse

I had a great time last Saturday in Prince Edward County. Where else can you just move about and every kilometre or so have a taste of some county brewed beverage? 

Garage Time Brewing Company is one such place. Literally in the garage of a rather normal looking bungalow, the specialty here is making beers taste like other drinks. So, I sampled beers that tasted like a Caesar, a margarita and a berry sour. 

This jaunt was a delightful adventure in taste and shared with friends – a great memory – but I’m not sure about the beverages themselves. I was confused as to why the beer needed to taste like something else. Why not just taste like some kind of craft beer with a more beer-like twist and leave the Caesar delight to, well, a Caesar? 

And then I took a break from contemplating alcohol and thought about how we all do this from time to time – we admire someone else or feel that some other quality is superior, and we hide our own strengths and stories in a layer of actions, behaviours and roles that we think will put us in better stead with those around us.

We all do this from time to time, read the room and decide plain beer is not going to do. So we better talk about our busy work lives and workplace; just talking about what we are interested in or how we fit in our community is too plain or risky.  Brene Brown says it well, we “hustle for our worthiness” when we do not just lean into what our story, skills, life experiences and core beliefs that create in their magical mix who we are. 

I was at a meeting at a church and tucked under the table at which I was sitting was an old bulletin from a Sunday long past. Clearly the bulletin had been in the possession of a child who liked to doodle. I was struck by the doodles, the kind of universal themes that one finds in almost all doodles – faces, crowns, fangs, little cars. Some drawings were clearly begun and then scratched out.

It made me smile, picturing a long church service where the person may have been a bit bored, remembering all the boring events of my own childhood that doodles and peppermints got me through.  I guess too it was the universality of the practice of doodling when bored. 

As a human race we really do have so much in common when you pay attention to the little things. Noise at a playground, cheers at a hockey game, that ooh ahh response at large gatherings for fireworks – these are responses that seem almost hard-wired.

I love that when I slow down, I can see the connective tissue, the links and few degrees of separation between people all around me.  When we are bored, we doodle, when we see something beautiful or frightening, we gasp and when we take time to notice we learn more and more about what it is to be part of the human race. 

How different does it make the world around us look when we are seeking our commonalities and not focusing on the divides? When we are looking for connections and not dividing factors? When we see what is strong not what is wrong? While we honour our differences and our unique gifts, there is also a beauty in where we overlap.  Doodles in our boredom and beauty in our shared experience.

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I went to the Walmart in Port Perry to grab a few things and when I walked in there was a gaping nothingness where the carts should have been. “The world is short staffed,” was really my only thought as I marched out to the overflowing parking lot corral. I took my cart in and did the shopping; coming out the problem remained, and I was witness to two senior ladies beginning their march out for carts when a teenage boy leapt into action and declared to them both to wait there and he would get them the carts they needed. They both seemed so shocked that they did not in fact stop walking at first, until he repeated his intention and then they gushed with gratitude.

I love this, a small gesture, some help, saving the two from the extra walking and giving me something to smile about for the ride home.

I heard an awesome presentation today that reminded me about seeing the great, acknowledging the great in others and embracing gratitude – and how all of this builds resiliency. I know that this young man was not even aware of me and just wanted to be helpful. He is not aware that I was able to glean a little slice of joy from the interaction and that I would now pass that on to my readers. That is just how it works, lob some kindness into the pool and you never know how far the ripples reach out.

At another store on the weekend, I found a cart with the quarter still in it; someone had left it there to save a stranger, who was me, the challenge of finding one. Who knew the shopping buggies could honesty offer this much magic in one weekend. My challenge to you – spread your own cart full of joy.

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