pig moments and the accidental collection

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Well, it’s interesting that Sigmund Freud harkens the psychology of collecting with ties back to toilet training.  And in his way, he says that the loss of control and what went down the toilet was a loss we strive to get back by collecting things. Give or take a literal translation of his theory.  Continue reading

my Mom’s dreams

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As we hit our teenage years, our Mom is around sometimes like an unwanted appendage weighing us down and sometimes like a crutch holding us up.  We’ve all been there; “ohhhhh Mom, really??” and the phone calls “Mom……..it’s me…”.

It’s a hard transition from being a needy child to being a teenager and then to a young parent ourselves doing it our own way.  And all along the way our Mom is there trying to fit into our ever changing outlook on what she should be for us.  This isn’t a bad thing; it’s a natural progression. Maybe it’s also a natural progression to soften the edges and embrace her with respect and a  deep connection as we age along with her, and to long for missed opportunities after it’s too late to take them.

I look at this picture of my Mom from very long ago and wonder what dreams she had. I never asked her. I never knew since we didn’t have much of a relationship beyond my childhood, and then not anywhere close to knowing what she dreamed of. I feel sad for that.

Ask your Mom what she dreams of.   Then love her for her dreams.

 

 

 

9 people, 6 days, a tribe and a mug

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9 people in a room for six days.  Like really, really in a room.  Not leaving. And days are 12-14 hours long. That’s what it means to work for our election as an officer facilitating advanced voting opportunities for the masses.

I don’t care who you are, it still takes a big inhale and twinge of expectation and anticipation mixed up with the tiny insecurities we all pack around when you commit to in this case, 6 days of intense group dynamics.  Continue reading

lessons learned from BookCrossing

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The delight in finding.  The delight in setting free.  It was all there in BookCrossing.  With ebooks and the convenience of reading everything on a screen I pack around, I’ve lost some of the “bookness” of a book.  Continue reading

perspective

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I remember a conversation with a friend when I said “I just don’t know where I fit” and the response was “well, right here. That’s where”.  This past few months since leaving the teams I was working with, it’s been a bit of a stress and pressure and an overwhelming feeling that I have to find a new “fit”.

Any time there’s a big change we struggle to find a place that doesn’t bind or pinch or slosh around like an overfilled wading pool. Maybe the fit is in our perspective of our here and now.  Maybe it’s ok to step back and change perspective.

A walk in the Ancient Forest near my house is healing and inspiring. Offering a note to be taken that today is a tiny piece of everything; that it’s ok to just breathe and be.

 

 

dog walking

a255d4d67fa4a97eab4c689dcf910f450496068a.jpegFor a good part of the year they walk in the dark because the winter  brings short days up here.  Heading out with the flashlight, gloves, scarves, puffy coats and big boots, Mark and Jasmine leave very early every morning on their route around the neighbourhood.

With the change in seasons, out comes the bear spray to be packed for the surprise encounter  hoped not to be surprised with.  Sniffing takes Jasmine much longer with the melting of snow as critters are on the move and interesting poop needs to be sniffed and pondered with hackles raised.  Coyotes and even cougars and wolves pooping by the side of the road and of course bears pooping in the middle as they like to do.

With Jasmine’s incredible sight, she looks ahead down the road at things we don’t even notice until a deer leaps across the road or a grouse flaps up out of the ditch in its attempt at a graceful takeoff.

A mama fox denned up to have her babies over the bank along the walking trail a couple of years ago and Jasmine was very aware they were there.  She could hear the little ones first mewing and then yipping as they grew.  Soon there were baby foxes popping up on the top of the bank to watch her walk by; Blondie, the one Mark figured was a girl because she was so flirty, and Blackie, the gutsy little teasing one with the others in and out of their den.

Because Jasmine is on leash, there is no chasing, no lunging at the foxes.  It was more of a curiosity both ways…… you look kind of like me….but not, and foxes are really curious little beings.   You yip and bark like me…..but not. She looked for the foxes every day and watched them grow over the spring and summer. She’s  seen them in the times since around the neighbourhood maybe with a flicker of recognition as they look at each other.

The walks Mark takes are a time capsule in some ways.  He walked miles with our black lab Benjamin and then with the dogs together as Jasmine came to live with us, and then with Jasmine alone when Benjamin was gone.   The other dog walkers know how time works too. Mark comes back and talks about the day Bruce was walking alone when his dog first was too sick and then gone.  About how the blind german shepherd follows the others along on the walk with the family. And he sees the time start again with Angel, a little fluffy white puppy added to the group as she grows and grows into her impressive Pyrenean Mountain Dog breed size.

Dog walks are a start to the day with quiet time of crunchy snow steps and  the tick-tick of claws filing down on gravel.  Of time to think and be. To nod at the others as they pass or stop and chat while the dogs sniff and wag tails.

IMG_2470.JPGMark and Jasmine at BobTail Lake 2017.

It  really hasn’t changed much over the years. Guys still  head out with their best friends for long walks every day. And it’s so good.