The sun and warmth of this fall on the coast have made me nostalgic.
I’m taken back…. to a time long ago when I was eighteen and on a first date with a boy who was gasp five years older than me.
One warm Sunday afternoon, he picked me up in his mother’s car, a white sedan with a burgundy interior. The day before, he had told me,
“Wear something you don’t mind getting wet.” he smiled as he lazily leaned against the counter of the “Pic-a-dilly Malt and Donut Shop” where I worked for the summer.
After hours of sorting through my closet the next day, I finally wore jean shorts and a tee shirt over a tank top. The tee shirt was grey.
And off we drove to the river. Where we floated and talked and enjoyed the silence and the sun.
There was only one inner tube, so we had to sit close.
The water was shallow and slow, and the afternoon was filled with hope and promise.
In three weeks, I was leaving home for university. I was nervous and excited to be off on my own and have the entire world open before me.
The future seemed filled with all sorts of possibilities and promises.
I wonder how I can capture this same feeling decades later, when the year is coming to its end when it seems that I must “return” rather than “go forward.”.
But,
I guess,
if I look closely enough, what lies ahead are promises of another kind.
Category: blog
Those Crooked Days
Some days just seem crooked.
When everything is askew.
Walls look slanted. Stairs are tipped.
You walk as if you’re missing a heel to you shoe.
Conversations seem unfinished or convoluted
and you can’t hold a thought long enough to keep it on any rails to speak of.
You cry when you should be laughing,
(you spell should “shood” when you know better)
and you’re awake when you should be sleeping but yet your alarm wakes you.
It’s snowing when there should be sun.
And it’s not as though you’ve been partaking in any libations,
no, (unfortunately)
it’s just the way the world seems to be this week.
And you wonder if it’s perception or reality. Or your perception of reality clouded by exhaustion (or overthinking…or both)
And you hope for the curtain to be lifted and things to be clear and aligned so that tasks can be accomplished without befuddlement,
crisp
and clean
and complete.
By Brain is Like a Runaway Train
Sometimes, my brain is like a runaway train.
Not the little namby-pamby one you see in some theme parks where it pretends to be out of control, and children squeal. No, in that one, you know you’re on a track that will take you safely back from whence you came. Instead, my brain is like an old, rickety locomotive carrying a full, heavy load of worries, fears and thoughts that have no apparent reason for existing and cannot be explained.
This locomotive uncontrollably plummets down the side of the mountain, scooping up wayward cattle in its cowcatcher or busting through landslides that have covered the rails.
Nonstop
on a maniacal mission.
Lurching and bumping and veering around corners at breakneck speed.
Any attempt at slowing down, let alone breaking, is ineffectual and a waste of time.
No distraction works.
As it turns out, the thing to do is to wait it out. To go with the momentum. Follow gravity without fighting. Trying not to get dizzy from the inability to focus on the landscape. Until I get to the bottom of the mountain
where I move from perpendicular to horizontal.
The train loses speed gradually until it comes to a complete stop, and I arrive at a resolution or at least an acceptance of sorts.
And I get off not too bad for wear.
In A Day
What a difference a day makes. Is this phrase a societal cliché? A lyric from an old song? Or maybe it’s a remnant from an old wives tale? Whatever the case, it seems to manifest itself often throughout life. Ten cases in point:
- In a day, you can go from being in love to suffering a broken heart.
- In a day, you can move from the whimsy of the summer holiday to the seriousness of work.
- In a day, you can go from feeling exhilarating independence to profound loneliness.
- In a day, you can be jolted from the complacency of routine to the anxiety of change.
- In a day, you can go from an empty page to reams of handwritten prose.
- In a day, you can mend fractured friendships.
- in a day, you can lose respect for someone you admire.
- In a day, you can find yourself halfway around the world.
- In a day, you can lose (and gain( the salt bloat caused by consuming a family-sized bag of potato chips.
- You can go from feeling insignificant and ineffectual to initiating incredible change just by facing everything that comes your way with grace.
24 hours can hold a lot of power. Power to cause a myriad of emotions surrounding a hidden lesson. How profoundly human.
To String Near Misses (an attempt at poetry)
“…the chances we failed to seize, the moments of happiness we allowed to drift away. Today it seems to me that my whole life was nothing but a string of those small near misses: a race whose result we know beforehand but in which we fail to bet on the winner.” Jean-Dominique Bauby, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly: A Memoir of Life in Death
To banish the “near misses”
To be aware of the gifts revealed to us
no matter how tiny
To ignore superfluous detail –
the bullshit and posturing,
the maneuvering and manipulating.
To see what is truly a divine moment
and just “be”
in each breath,
in each heartbeat.
To reach out and embrace everything you already have,
even if it’s not quite what you’ve expected
but better, if perceived through the same eyes,
but a different lens.
To turn the “string of near misses”
into a necklace of precious gems
Moments transformed into memories.
The Potential That Lies in the Question
“…every question possessed a power that did not lie in the answer.” Elie Wiesel Night
A question can be significantly more important than the answer. If we don’t question, we naturally assume the “truth” we are presented with is just that,
the truth.
Then acceptance leads to manipulation and ultimately, for lack of a better term,
mush for brains.
When we question, we inquire. We show inquisitiveness and don’t just sit through life passively like dough waiting to rise. Questioning means we’re alive. It means we have an opinion. It means cures for cancer. World peace. Nobel prizes.
Questions mean change. To respectfully challenge the status quo is our responsibility as human beings. It encourages accountability.
Creativity.
Logic.
Three things I see lacking in the world. And sometimes in my own immediate vicinity.
We need to encourage inquiry in others and, most importantly, in ourselves. To not be afraid of throwing out a “why” and to be equally unafraid of catching one. We need to cultivate genuine inquisitiveness in ourselves. Excitement for learning. Sometimes a difficult thing to do through the exhaustion of the day filled with work and obligation.
But the excitement someone builds in herself about the process or even the mere probability of acquiring knowledge
is infectious.
How often do we see a friend learning to and successfully remodeling her own home, or acquiring a new language, or training for a new job? And we think, “I could do that.”
But we leave it there.
What we should be saying is, “I want to do that, and I will.”
Then go out and make it happen.
We Don’t Need to Know Everything
When we are young, when everything seems new and we’re open and curious to learn, we listen to those who know or can teach us skills to “find out” for ourselves.
How to ride a bike.
How to hold our pencil.
To skate.
Write.
Read.
And we listen with trust and childlike appreciation to those who will show us how and then to those who will show us how to do better.
But then, somewhere along the way, this trust and appreciation turn to frustration and impatience. As teenagers, we say, “who are you to tell me what to do?”
“Leave me alone.”
“This sucks.”
Eventually, we realize that we indeed do not know everything, at least not the things we need to know to succeed at a new job, make money, buy a house. All the “things” that come along in life that are new. So we listen and learn from the experts who will teach guide and us.
But then we stall. Again we think we know it all. We don’t want to learn because it will require effort,
or change
or, heaven forbid,
more responsibly.
We’re scared to fail. Or too proud to acknowledge a need for growth. So we muddle around in a rut expecting accolades for redundancy. Or again, to be left alone in a cocoon of unaccountability.
And we may resent those who try to teach us, and this time we think instead of say:
“Leave me alone”
or “who are you to tell me what to do.”
or “Let me do what I’ve always done…
even if it’s mediocre.
Because complacency is familiar. And doesn’t require effort.
And I think the only way to regain that childlike trust to learn from someone else is through humility. And the acknowledgment that someone else might, in fact, know something I don’t know. And if that person has my respect, then mentors can exist even for adults.
And I can learn above suspicion
with the same innocence as a child.
To Pull Out Our Brain
“If only we could pull out our brain and use only our eyes” Pablo Picasso.
I sometimes have the tendency to overanalyze.
Ok, I often have the tendency to overanalyze and question and stew, which ultimately leads me to doubt my interpretation and second guess my response.
At times it’s exhausting.
And I wonder,
wouldn’t it be wonderfully freeing to once in a while absorb information simply at face value?
It is what it is.
To view it as a manifestation of truth with no assembly necessary. To see something, just to see it. To see someone just to see them.
To observe without elucidation or analysis.
To experience without intention.
Sometimes this is easy. Immersing myself in nature. Sitting on a beach looking out over the great expanse of the ocean. Inhaling the salty air deeply and listening to the lapping of the water.
Or
driving through the mountains, the white peaks, the small trickles of melted water relenting to gravitational force and winding their way down the mountainside.
Watching fields of golden wheat dance in the wind.
No interpretation is needed.
Each
just
is.
It’s unfortunate such experiences don’t happen as often as they should. The life we create for ourselves, especially in adulthood, is crammed full of exterior stimulus of an electronic nature. The constant bombardment of information that needs to be processed and either stored or dismissed. Evaluation required.
Maybe we all have the eyes of an artist; we just need to “pull out our brain” in order to use them.
25 degrees
I live in a place of extremes.
This last week, my city had the distinction of being the second coldest place on the planet.
It has since warmed up by 25 degrees.
It is a welcome relief to finally have the walls stop snapping and the fog caused by exhaust sitting in the air dissipate. Still, I’m finding it difficult to figure out how Mother Nature wants me to behave. Do I wear wool or cotton? At night do I keep handy a heating pad or fan? Warm soup for supper or a refreshingly crisp salad?
And although I’ve gotten used to these extremes (albeit I find them somewhat annoying), I still look forward to peaceful spans of continuity and predictability.
In fact, sometimes, I long for them.
I’m not really talking about the weather. But, we all know, talk of the weather is usually a disguise for something else.
Something deeper.
Extremes in life are difficult.
Those surges of maniacal frenzy that occur at work no matter how diligently you measure yourself.
You plan and pace with perfect practicality, but they always seem to swirl upon you, and you fight to keep your nose above the swell. You usually do,
but not without the sleepless nights, moments of panic, and “medicinal” pouring of wine.
Or relationships where you are besieged by attention and obligation, sometimes welcome, other times…
not so much.
Days where you see and talk to no one about anything of significance and long for a passionate and intellectual conversation peppered with emotion,
or,
you are emotionally and mentally drained and want to crawl into a hermit hole and watch all the extended versions of the Lord of the Rings Trilogy
in one sitting.
I guess it’s true. Life is filled with ebb and flow. And we can’t appreciate certain moments unless we’ve experienced their opposite.
You can’t breathe a sigh of relief during the holiday unless you’ve lived through the chaos at work.
You can’t KNOW happiness unless your heart has been broken.
Life is all about 25 degrees of separation.
In With the New
I have really struggled this year, reflecting upon the past year and setting goals for this new one. No lie, this last year has been a tough one for me. I was all brave-like and heroic, espousing upon the positivity I found even in the time of a pandemic. And then, in April, not only did I crash and burn, I did so in epic proportion. It was a full-time job (on top of a full-time job) to maintain my physical and mental health. Now, those of you who suffer anxiety and depression like I do know that no amount of telling yourself “consider yourself lucky, other people are experiencing huge financial issues and death of loved ones or sickness themselves” made me feel better, in fact, telling myself this only made me feel guilty for feeling sorry for myself (yay for “Good Catholic Guilt” and honestly as I write this it sounds like I’m complaining which makes me feel guilty about complaining. Yesh).
Anywho, I’m better! Yay! But I’m fully aware that “better” ebbs and flows.
That being said, I’ve rephrased “New Years Resolutions” to “Things I’m going to Work On,” and I thought I’d share them with you.
There is only 2 this year:
1. Train and complete another ½ marathon in October.
2 . Reframe my thoughts and the things I say towards the positive.
Does the second one seem silly, “Pie in the Sky” and a regurgitation of every wellness book on gratitude published over the last decade? Maybe so, but I’ve been practicing. And it’s been working. I feel better. I smile more. I hope I can keep it up.
What “Things I’m Going to Work On” is on your list?
Have the happiest of Happy New Year!
Memory as Metaphor
Memory is a funny thing.
Multi-metaphorical.
It’s like a tiny alligator. Lurking in shallow water leisurely swimming by moving it’s tail. You wade tentatively in life feeling warmth and security. Going further out and away. When suddenly it grabs your ankle in it’s sharp pointy teeth reminding you it’s there. And then leaving little pointed pricks in your skin.
Prickly, pint points of blood. Distracting reminders.
Or it’s like a shroud that falls over you when you’re going about your business. In the middle of routine. And suddenly a smell or a taste or an image will act the trigger release of a safety catch. Letting drop a black and suffocating shroud. That settles on you for an hour, or a day, or sometimes a week.
Until you’re destracted by an occurrence or
a conversation or
a making of another memory that will not take it’s place but rather act as a distraction. Strong enough to put shreds in that shroud.
At times its like a Tuesday bruise on your knee on Thursday. Not as sore and tender to the touch as the day you received it, but now dark and purple and obvious when you lift your pant leg to view it. Only to cover it up again. Then have it glare at you in the face when you’re in the tub, knees popping up through the bubbles reminding you that you fell.
A small injustice or failure.
And every once in a while it’s like a little spot of sunshine that moves about a room. You have to consciously see it. Move towards it. Plant yourself in it so that you can have it warm you. If even for a little while.
Like a cat.
Until it’s time to move on and out of the sunshine
and back into the momentum of life.
Only to experience new alligators, shrouds, bruises
and blessed patches of sunshine.
Books That Teach Empathy
This week I felt compelled to compile a list of book titles that can be used to teach empathy. Before I share this list with librarians and teachers in my district I wanted to share my motivation for doing so…
It is challenging being a teacher when traumatic events unfold. I taught 12th grade English during 911, and I had 18-year-old students worrying they would be drafted to fight in World War III. Hamlet had to wait. We had to talk. I had to listen and try to help them make sense of the madness. It was heartbreaking. Now with the act of domestic terrorism that took place in Washington last week, I am reminded of how important a teacher’s role is when our students are abruptly faced with the repercussions of cruelty and intolerance and our need to make them feel safe.
Now, as an instructional coach, I do not have a class or my own, so I was spared the conversations and fears that could have taken place. Instead, I took to Twitter. Not only did I want to witness the events happening in real-time, but I also wanted to see how teachers were navigating the upheaval. I was getting my news minute by minute, which is both a wonder of social media and a scourge. Soon I began noticing tweets from teachers asking others how they would approach this current event with their students the next day. The overwhelming consensus was to approach it gently but truthfully. Teachers came together to support one another by both sharing resources and offering suggestions of approach. The networking was wonderful to witness, and every educator on my feed seemed to present the hope that they could promote positive change in their classroom (online and otherwise) and that the children they teach are well on their way to being positive, responsible citizens.
We live in Canada, but I know that an undercurrent of the same hatred and intolerance exists. I can’t help but wonder if it is too late to foster a sense of empathy and tolerance in young people. What can we do as educators to help foster a sense of empathy and inclusion in young people? Well, there is one little thing we can do, it’s the simple act of reading. Read yourself. Get kids to read. Read to kids. Studies have shown that reading fiction can increase a sense of empathy because it forces the reader to live through the eyes of a narrator or a character (Hammond 2019) helping us better understand and cooperate with others (Kaplan 2016.)
Obviously, reading cannot serve as a bandaid for systemic racism or political unrest. Still, it can be the baby step we need towards fostering kindness and acceptance in those we teach.
Here is a list of books with direct links that may help in fostering a sense of empathy in individuals whether they be our students, our children or ourselves. At the end of this list are websites citing research supporting how reading builds empathy.
Please feel free to share any titles you have as well!
(I’ve “guestimated” division suitability but you can professionally determine what book would suit your kiddos).
Division 1-2- 3
Last Stop on Market Street by Matt De La Pena
Those Shoes by Maribeth Boelts and Noah Z. Jones
You, Me and Empathy by Jayneen Sanders and Sofia Cardoso
Most People by Micheal Lennah and J. E. Morris
The Invisible Boy by Trudy Ludwig and Patrice
All are Welcome by Alexandra Penfold and Suzanne Kaufman
Save Me a Seat by Sarah Weeks and Gita Varadarajan
Every book from Kathryn Otoshi
I am Enough by Grace Byers and Keturah A. Bobo
Enemy Pie by Derek Munson and Tara King
A Sick Day for Amos McGee by Philip C. Stead and Erin E. Stead
I Walk with Vanessa by Kerascoet
Just Feel by Mallika Chopra
Come with Me by Holly M. McGhee and Pascal Lemaitre
How to be a Lion by Ed Vere
Adrian Simcox Does Not Have a Horse by Marcy Camp[bell and Corrina Luyken
Each Kindness and The Other Side by Jacqueline Woodson and E.B. Lewis
Peace is an Offering by Annette LeBox and Stephanie Graegin
Not My Idea by Anatasia Higginbotham
The Front Desk by Kelly Yang
Nicky and Vera by Peter Sis
Division 3-4
Other Words for Home by Jasmine Warga
New Kid by Jerry Craft
Ghost Boys by Jewell Parker Rhodes
The Star Outside my Window by Onjali Q. Rauf
I Am Alfonso Jones By Tony Medina
Illegal by Eoin Colfer
The Librarian of Auschwitz by Lilit Thwaites and Antonio Iturbe
Jr/Sr High div 4
The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky
The Reluctant Fundamentalist by Mohsin Hamid
There There by Tommy Orange
So you Want to Talk about Race by Ijeoma Oluo
Children of Blood and Bone by Tomi Adeyemi
A Very Large Expanse of Sea by Tahereh Mafi
This is my America by Kim Johnson
You’re Welcome Universe by Whitney Gardner
So you Want to Talk about Race by Ijeoma Oluo
Do Better by Rachel Ricketts
Tell me Who You Are by Winona Guo and Priya Vulchi
The Removed by Brandon Hobson
Word Problems by Ian Williams
Websites
Hammond, Claudia.(2019, June 2). Does Reading Fiction Make Us Better People? BBC Future. https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20190523-does-reading-fiction-make-us-better-people
Kaplan, Sarah.(2016, July,22.) Does Reading Fiction Make You a Better Person? The Washington Post. https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/speaking-of-science/wp/2016/07/22/does-reading-fiction-make-you-a-better-person/
Schmidt, Megan. (2020, August, 28). How Reading Fiction Increases Empathy and Encourages Understanding. Discover Magazine. https://www.discovermagazine.com/mind/how-reading-fiction-increases-empathy-and-encourages-understanding
Seifert, Christine.(2020, March 6.) The Case for Reading Fiction. Harvard Business Review. https://hbr.org/2020/03/the-case-for-reading-fiction
Reflecting on 2020 and setting goals for 2021
Welcome, 2021!
Last week I reflected on my year of reading. The titles, the genres, the authors. Around March last year, I had to take the reality of my “COVID mindset” and my inability to focus into consideration and set a milestone much lower than I usually do at 50 books. As an English teacher and book blogger, this felt like a failure. This year, however, I am confident I can air higher than 50 soooooo I’m thinking 60?
So, what have I learned about myself as a reader?
- I read more non-fiction (yay one of the goals I DID meet)
- General fiction made up the bulk of my titles (mostly mystery and fantasy)
- I included graphic novels.
- A handful of audiobooks made my list (mostly non-fiction)
Favourites?
fiction- Mexican Gothic (review to come) by Silvia Moreno Garcia
non-fiction- The Heart and Other Monsters by Rose Anderson
audible- Catch and Kill by Ronan Farrow
YA- Legendborn by Tracy Deonon
Graphic novel: Long Way Down based on the novel by Jason Reynolds artist Danica Novgorodoff
Fantasy: The Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo(review to come)
Reading goals for 2021
- 60 titles
- Increase Science fiction and poetry.
I need your help, my fellow book addicts, please send me titles of your favourite Science fiction reads and poetry books (preferably contemporary!!!
What was your favourite read of 2020? What are your goals for 2021
Happy reading!
Ink And Spine 