A New Start

As some of you will have noticed my writing of late has been rather sporadic. In fact there was a period of months where I did not post anything. It seemed that my ideas bank account had run empty. In fact, in looking back, I would suggest that with some of my thoughts I was overdrawing the account. They should have been returned NSF.

Since the start of this project I prided myself in the regularity of my posts. Sure there were times when it took an extra week for ideas to flow. Occasionally the post was “nothing to write home about” but then some song, conversation, or epiphany would come and I would be able to write something helpful or inspiring. I suppose over time thoughts can become stagnant if we allow them to.

As I look back over my posts in the last year I also notice a common theme. I was struggling. Struggling to find my way. Just not having fun. The good news is that I have come to an understanding of what was going on in my life. I recognize now what I should have done back then. Could have made my life much more positive much sooner. The irony is that even back then I knew in my sub consciousness what I needed to do but for some reason did not do it.

So I need to revamp what I write. To do that I need to change the way I do certain things. My brother sent me a book this week. Tells me it’s an early birthday gift. Not sure I can accept that. The early birthday gift part. I am accepting the book. It is called The Right to Write written by Julia Cameron. I have only read a few pages and already have a better understanding of where I was at with my writing and where I need to go to get back on track.

What resonates with me is when the author of the book challenges the reader (writer) to listen. To get direction from what is around us. She suggests that when we force ourselves to write, writing becomes a chore and becomes less effective. When we listen to the world around us, and by world I mean people, music, stories, events, to name a few, we find the direction. We come to an understanding that it is not about us and through that understanding are better at writing and better at communicating. That is where I was. I was forcing myself to write. I was consumed by my own issues. And when I check back it is easy to recognize when I felt forced to write and when the writing came from a natural flow of thoughts created by listening.

So here I go. A new start. Since 2010 I have posted 246 times. I have often alluded to the benefits I found in writing. In a sense it is a type of journaling. And we all know journaling is a huge benefit in finding clarity in this journey we call life. I need to get back to that. Find the time and the energy to put pen to paper.

Here is another quote from the book. “We should write because writing brings clarity and passion to the act of living. Writing is sensual, experiential, grounding. We should write because writing yields us a body of work, a felt path through the world we live in.” Make it a good one.

“Whether you say you can or you can’t, you’re right.”
Henry Ford

A Contradiction

We are in a time of contradictions. After all it is election time. And as I have stated earlier the political rhetoric is getting somewhat tedious. And I use the word tedious as the words I would really like to use are not suitable in this forum.

Over the course of the last two months I have been battling a nasty chest infection. At one point I believe the doctor suggested I was suffering from bronchial pneumonia although I think he was somewhat flummoxed himself. Since the end of August I have been on five different antibiotics and four different inhalers. Some of them work, some not so well. Is it a bacterial infection or is it a virus? Is it because I abused my lungs in the past or is it because this bug is making its rounds? Am I slower in getting over it than others or did I wait too long to see a doctor? So many questions. So few answers. For now I seem to be getting better. Two weeks ago I was better too and then it came back with a vengeance.

So in this new world we live in you take an antibiotic to get rid of an infection or inflammation. However that creates a problem. Pardon my ignorance but I did not know this. So the antibiotic gets rid of bacteria. Makes sense if you have a bacterial infection. However, and here is the contradiction, your body needs bacteria. So I have learned that there are good bacteria and there are bad bacteria. Antibiotics don’t know the difference so they simply zap all the bacteria. But now that the bacteria, good and bad, are gone I have to replace the good bacteria by using a pro-biotic. I was told that eating yogurt would do that for me. Quite frankly I would rather not replace bacteria if it means eating yogurt. So someone in all their wisdom provided me with pills that have the same effect. Perfect. Antibiotics in the morning, pro-biotics in the evening. Makes for , and I quote, an ultimate flora. That is all I am saying about that.

Oh, I forgot. Aside from antibiotics and inhalers I also needed to use cough syrup. Have you ever taken a look at what is available on the drugstore shelf? Tough to decide which one to use. Just before I decided it was time to see a doctor I stopped in at a drugstore to buy some cough syrup. Should have been easy. I asked the pharmacist which kind would be best. She did not want to sell me any. Insisted I go to the doctor. I concurred but still needed some. Made my own choice. Don’t think it worked. The doctor suggested which kind I should get. Thank goodness it wasn’t Buckley’s. Now there is an adventure waiting to happen. Finally got one that worked. And again there was a contradiction. A cough syrup that is an expectorant, which loosens up whatever is in your lungs, and a cough suppressant. How does that work? It loosens up the phlegm but suppresses the cough. Does that not mean that it actually works against each other? All I know is that I seemed to cough up stuff I remember inhaling years ago. Don’t ask me to describe it. It was ugly.

That’s my story and I am sticking to it. Tonight I seem to be losing my voice. What does that mean? A relapse? I hope not. My son laughed at me when he heard my voice. Commented on the tough year my body has had. Hopefully things will get better. Perhaps get in a game of golf. Been missing that over the last six weeks. Then again maybe I will say what I used to say when I was farming. There is always next year. Make it a good one.

Are You Serious

I am serious. It is the beginning of September. The weather is nice. Sun is shining. I should be golfing. Unfortunately I am not. It appears like I have developed a classic case of pneumonia. Sure wonder where that came from. So I am trying to get better by medicating and resting. Given me too much time to watch TV.

Raise your hand if you are already sick of the upcoming election. Seriously. The stars must be lining up. We have the American election coming next year and so we have a host of people vying to be leaders for their parties. We have the Canadian federal election campaign well under way. And already a hint of our provincial election coming next spring. Personally I am getting somewhat tired of the political rhetoric coming at us from all directions.

How about Donald Trump? Isn’t that enough to make one lose faith in anything political. And to think he is on top of the polls for the Republicans. His “bull in a china shop” approach is mind numbing and discouraging. From insulting anyone that gets in his way to some of his ideas that he wants to implement, a leader like that is scary. Just as walls come down in many countries he is suggesting building a wall between the US and Mexico. I wonder where that wall was when his ancestors came over. And now it has been suggested that a wall be built between Canada and the US. Are you serious?

In our federal election we seem to be hung up on hair, or shifty eyes, or anger, or beards, or. . . . Seriously? That is all we have? I have asked it before and will again. Where is there any substance to what we as a country need to build and grow? And to think there are more days in this campaign than we normally have. So hang on. Only 41 more days till this is over. Only 41 more days till you can cast your ballot. Trust me. It will feel like forever.

Of course we could start thinking ahead to Christmas. It is only 4 months away. But that only brings a host of other issues to worry about. Snow. Cold. Short days. Not pleasant me thinks. After all we are still enjoying summer. At least trying to.

There you have it. Perhaps now that I have written about the frustration of anything political I won’t have to think about it. Yeah right. Only if I bury my head in the sand. Perhaps take some advice from a dog. See, I told you I could come up with more animals to write about. Saw this the other day and thought how applicable. “Handle every stressful situation like a dog. If you can’t eat it or play with it pee on it and walk away”. I like that. Now you know what I am doing with the election. At least until election day. At that point I must do my civic duty.

Perhaps I am to negative. I should not be. Summer has been good. Golf game was improving. My mental health is better. I have so much to be thankful for. So enjoy it. Each day is something to be treasured. Make it count. And as far as politics go, what would we complain about if politics were to disappear. And Christmas, with the snow and cold, is coming. But not something to worry about just yet. So here is to the rest of the summer. Seriously! Make it a good one.

To Err Is Human

I came across some information on the internet that I think teaches a valuable lesson. Actually I did not come across it; my daughter in law sent it to me. Notice, I just made a mistake. Fortunately I caught it and was able to correct it quickly before it became an issue involving others. Unfortunately I am seldom that quick at realizing when I have screwed up. And for the most part my mistakes, my screw ups, my stupidity hurts others. And, ultimately, make my life worse as well. Except, of course, if I realize and understand the mistake and do my utmost to make it right.

FUBAR is a term first used many years ago in the military. I remember the first time I heard that word. It was during a game of Trivial Pursuit at a church youth function. You would think a family game such as that would not create a problem during a wholesome church event. The question asked what the word FUBAR stood for. As the question was asked the pastor was hovering around our table watching the activities. Needless to say when the answer was given there were some red faces around. For those that don’t know FUBAR “is a term that originates as a military acronym for "fucked up beyond all/any recognition/repair/reason/redemption". My apologies if I offended anyone with the use of the “f” word. I plead ignorance as I was just quoting someone else. In fact it being an important historical military fact I plead innocence.

I often use the word, FUBAR that is, because most of my gaffes fall into that category. That is just simply me. Yes, I am trying to change but at my age change can be slow and tedious if it happens at all. Nevertheless I digress. The point is we all make mistakes. How we deal with the mistakes, whether our own or someone else’s, becomes the challenge. Following is what my daughter in law shared with me.

“In a certain African tribe, when someone does something harmful, they take the person to the center of the village where the whole tribe comes and surrounds them.

For two days, they will say to the man all the good things that he has done.

The tribe believes that each human being comes into the world as a good. Each one of us only desiring safety, love, peace and happiness. But sometimes, in the pursuit of these things, people make mistakes.

The community sees those mistakes as a cry for help. They unite then to lift him, to reconnect him with his true nature, to remind him who he really is, until he fully remembers the truth of which he had been temporarily disconnected: “I am good.” Shikoba Nabajyotisaikia!

NABAJYOTISAIKIA, is a compliment used in South Africa and means: “I respect you, I cherish you. You matter to me.” In response, people say SHIKOBA, which is: “So, I exist for you.” (author unknown)

As I alluded to earlier I make my share of mistakes. More than once I have needed what is described above. As I struggled with certain issues earlier this year my wife, my kids and my family did what the African tribe did for their own. For that I am appreciative. For that reason I am able to function today. Perhaps we can take this mantra with us and use it with others. After all, and again I quote, “It is natural for humans to cooperate, help and share. Individuals may be callous, inept, and defensive; but true malevolence is rare”. Make it a good one.

A Tragedy

Two weeks ago we received a call that shook me to the core. Someone we knew had died by suicide. I grew up and was friends with her husband. She was a wife and a mother. She was a business person. In the weeks since a myriad of emotions have flooded my mind. It has made me think because of my own struggles with mental health. It has made me think of the many people I have met through my work in various areas regarding mental health and suicide. It has made me wonder how we as society can make a bigger difference for so many people that struggle. How can we create more awareness?

The funeral was sad particularly in light of the circumstances. But strangely enough I came away from this one with different feelings than I normally do. Dare I say it encouraged me? Too often people are loathe to discuss suicide. Often times the cause of death is glossed over, perhaps in some attempt to run away from the tragedy. In this case there was none of that. The family was open about what happened. Others that spoke challenged us to be aware of mental health and the many that deal with this insidious illness. We were reminded of the best way to be a support to the family as they deal with the loss of a loved one.

During the service one of her kids mentioned how in the few short days since her passing they, as a family, had learnt a lot about suicide. What caught my attention was when he suggested that had his mother suffered and ultimately died because of cancer we would be talking about her courageous fight. We would talk about how brave she had been. He wanted everyone to know that his mother had fought a courageous battle. She had been brave. Her fight had been with a mental health illness not a physical illness.

That insight provided me with encouragement. In spite of awareness campaigns regarding mental health illnesses there remains a stigma. People that suffer from depression, PTSD, anxiety, Schizophrenia and others often times try to keep it a secret. We put on a mask hoping no one will know. We feel shame. And because of that we often do not seek the help we need. We have to put aside the stigma. And for the people who suffer from mental health illnesses we have to understand that it is a fight. It takes courage. And when we come to that realization we can take off our mask and show the folks around us that we have the courage and we need their support.

The family was also very clear that this death by suicide was not a selfish act. As awareness grows there is a better understanding of mental health and suicide. Again I was encouraged with the family’s approach. I have long been frustrated when suicide is referred to as a selfish act. It seems to me that calling it a selfish act is judgemental and takes away from a better understanding of the depths of despair many people feel. We should never confuse ending our pain with ending our life. I would go on to suggest that calling suicide a selfish act shows an ignorance of mental health.

This death was a tragedy beyond comprehension. It was a reminder for me to be aware of my own struggles and find better ways to deal with them. It was a reminder that there are many out there that face daily battles with their mental health. It was a reminder that more needs to be done. It was a reminder to seek understanding in spite of our own thoughts or beliefs. It is a challenge to all of us to be a support. A support to those who continue the courageous fight. A support to those who have lost a loved one to mental health. Make it a good one.

A Squirrel

Good morning. That is a different start to a blog. The reason I thought about that is an email I get most mornings from my wife. You see, she gets up at the most unearthly hour to get to work. When I finally get up, at a time that I still think is too early, she is already at work. And quite often when I check my emails over a cup of tea, yes, you heard right, tea, I have an email from her entitled “Good Morning”. And in the email she will include some words of encouragement for the day. As that has helped me I am saying good morning to you in hopes that what I write and you read will provide some encouragement to you.

In my last few posts, and it has been awhile, I referred to a parrot sitting on my shoulder. And the more I think about it the more sense it makes. And when I share that with clients and others they too understand the concept. For others it seems to have made them wonder who I really am. One reader, who I have worked with in my mediation work, laughed as she said that my reference to a parrot was “so not like you”. Wait till she sees this one. I am going to talk about squirrels. Perhaps I could start my own TV show on the National Geographic channel.

I recently chatted with a client and asked him if anxiety was a person or thing how he would describe it. With little hesitation he answered “a squirrel”. I found that intriguing. As we delved into it further the concept really made sense to me. Imagine a squirrel. Very active. Quite noisy. Flits from place to place. Never runs in a straight line. Hops from tree to tree. Quite agile. Can be intrusive. Always on the lookout. Never a dull moment. I wonder, do they ever sleep?

Now compare that to anxiety. Many people I talk to describe how anxiety creates a myriad of thoughts running through their minds. And just as you deal with one thought another one comes rushing in. Scurrying about in your gray matter, jumping from one thought to another. Puts you on edge. We become spooked. Never knowing what lies around the next corner. As one who has experienced significant anxiety I know it is intrusive and never sleeps.

So if it never sleeps how does one effectively deal with it? I could go into some detail about the way our brain works. How the lower brain is our early warning center. The amygdala, which is literally communication center. And the higher brain which recognizes patterns and prepares the responses. However, as intriguing as the brain might be, particularly the amygdala, the details can become rather tedious.

So we understand, to some degree, how squirrels act. We have a basic understanding of how our body, particularly the brain, responds to anxiety. But understanding does not get rid of the problem. I know of various means to get rid of squirrels. Best not to become too descriptive about that. Want to make sure I don’t offend anyone. I also know some basic tricks to deal with and rid myself of anxiety. Perhaps as I reboot my efforts at writing on a regular basis we can discover new ways of dealing with the many anxieties life throws at us. In the meantime I am rather curious what animal I will come up with next. Make it a good one.

Oba

My parrot, Oba, who you remember from a few weeks ago, has been very busy the last while talking to me. To the point where I felt like doing something really bad with the parrot. Nothing I could go into detail about on this family show but trust me the parrot would be gone. You see, the messages I was getting was that I did not know how to golf. In fact it was that an idiot like me should not even be out there. The way I was swinging my club looked like, actually didn’t resemble anything. The parrot told me that there was no sport under the sun that incorporated my kind of swing. The parrot led me to believe that he wanted no part of me. Only later did I wonder why he was still there.

And when I got a friendly reminder from friends about writing another blog the parrot started talking again. That parrot, I can’t even call him by his name anymore, told me that the crap I put down on paper is not worth the paper it’s written on. I actually got him there because it is not on paper, it’s on a computer. The parrot told me that I should move on in life. Quit trying to fool people. Because people were not being fooled.

That damn parrot came close to ruining my life. Last night as I awoke at my usual time I decided to get out of bed, wander over to the kitchen for a drink of water and then sit in my recliner and reflect. For a fleeting moment I had to tell myself that I was living the dream. Actually I think Oba was still snoring. It was during that reflection that I was reminded of the fact that I feed the parrot. The parrot is only capable of repeating words it hears. So as much as you would like to hear something positive it probably won’t happen. EXCEPT. . . . .

Do you remember what I said about parrots? They will only say what you say. Thinking about that struck me. Do you mean to say that when that parrot said I was no good at golf it was me actually saying it? And when the parrot told me I had nothing positive to share in a blog it was my own feelings coming through? And when that parrot bemoans the fact that I take my wife, my partner, my kids and my grandkids for granted it is what I am actually thinking? And that if I allow life to happen that could change?

I like that. There is hope. This last Tuesday I played golf and as I stepped up to the first tee I told Oba that I could hit a driver and I could hit the driver right down the middle of the fairway. Through the course of that evening I realized more and more that the thoughts running through my mind, the positives and negatives influenced my life, influenced my game.

I have spoken to numerous people this week. Oh, don’t tell the parrot. He was telling me that I have no work because I am an idiot. Guess what. I was busy this week. I was able to communicate with people in a broad spectrum of life and what life throws at us. It was great. And just for a fleeting moment I got some peace and quiet from Oba. Just for a moment he realized that perhaps I knew what I was doing, just perhaps there were opportunities that I needed to build on. Just perhaps he needed to change his tune. And just perhaps he needed to start being an encouragement. Make it a good one.