Birthmark

I used to have a dark birthmark on my leg. It poisoned my life. I would wear knee high socks to cover it up. One day, my aunt, a nurse, said: “Get rid of that. It can turn into cancer.” She called a dermatologist friend and before I knew it, it was out. Gone, never to return.
I never gave it a second thought. And now I remember how I made myself miserable over it and just can’t believe I made it matter so much. There must be something to learn from that. Don’t sweat the small stuff? Ideas? Suggestions?

Phone

I realized yesterday how my relationship to my land line phone has changed. I don't mind giving out that number, because I rarely use it anymore. We mostly get nuisance calls (charity solicitations). Rather, my email address has become the fiercely-guarded information. I am online pretty much all day (except when we lose the connection like today) so my friends can contact me at all times. I regard the phone as a noisy appliance which I mostly ignore. I feel awkward using the phone when I can email more efficiently, to more people, regardless of time… The future is now.

Talk to the Hand

The hand, in its infinite wisdom can tell the future. Books explain how to read your life in the palm of your hand, but also how to “take your life in your own hands”, just a few examples that use the hand to say important things.
Press the right pressure points in the hand and unleash the blocked energy that will flow again, fixing what ails you.
Hands are truly a survival tool: the latest trends in child rearing show that babies unable to verbalize yet will talk with their hands through sign language.
And holding hands says it all.

Taboos

I thought I would talk about a taboo subject but the taboo is too strong. So instead I will ponder on the strength of taboos and their long life. What makes a taboo taboo? I posit that things that define people intimately are taboo. Comedians make us laugh when they reveal their singularities (or imagined singularities of well-known people) on those taboo subjects. We recognize their foolishness and bravery in exposing such topics with the utmost disregard for common decency. They break the code like children who haven’t learned yet how to behave in society. That’s why we love kids…

Music

I love music, as long as it is played with a measure of soul. I will listen to any style, if it is done with passion and sincerity. I remember a few horrific experiences but it is the shock and dismay, not the music itself (it was very forgettable), that comes to mind.
Music reveals how I feel and I tend to prefer silence when I am sad or depressed. No point in listening to the Smiths – they will just want to make you act out. Without music, I fill my head with my own, which is very satisfying too.

Clichés

Until today, I never understood the mantra-like effectiveness of clichés. I used clichés as a joke, to show off my familiarity with my acquired language. Yet today, after agreeing to an interview with a staffing specialist, I had to start seriously contemplating going back to work and the emotions it stirred up in me. Curiously enough, I found solace in clichés such as “All good things must come to an end”. They enabled me to play down my emotions. I realized it is an effective way to keep emotions in check while feeling I was going through a shared experience.

Rambling

I read two articles on walking lately. One was about barefoot hiking (in this month’s Utne Reader magazine), the other was in today’s Citizen about rambling in Ottawa (or lack of room for it). Well, I didn’t know rambling had to do with walking; I only knew the verbal kind. But I definitely felt inspired and energized by both articles.
On the fridge, I have a postcard called “Rideau Woodland Ramble” (www.rideauwoodlandramble.com) that I picked up a while back, inviting the reader to “Come Ramble!” It sounded like something I would enjoy, akin to frolicking. Added to my to-do list.

Friends

I am a packrat when it comes to friends: I keep the old ones. Even if we don’t see each other as often, they sit in my heart, undisturbed.
Though I am pretty good at discarding objects – I don’t attach too much sentimental value to them – people are something else. There’s this whole extra dimension that friends bring into my world. They make it bright, funny, fascinating. Of course, you can have too many friends – I suspect there is an ideal ratio at different times of your life. This theory will be tested over the next 50 years. Stay tuned.

Water anyone?

Water: Do you drink enough of it? Most of the Earth is covered with water and most of our body is made up of water. A liter of water is more expensive than a liter of petrol. It’s been raining for weeks (or so it seems) – did you gather the rainwater? No, we take water for granted and yet the icebergs are crying as they melt away, their precious resource wasted in the sea. People die of thirst in some areas while others are killed in floods. Water is everywhere. You need proof? I was just watching ice hockey… Cheers!

Aging

Age is such an elastic concept: I know of an 81-year old man who works on his property, chopping his own wood; my parents are in their late 70s, and not slowing down; there was an article recently about a man who finally retired at 100 years of age.
What is strange is that I still hold onto my notions of old age, though all around me I see people who dispel that myth. More and more, we have models of healthy and vigorous people over 70 and this is still amazing to my feeble mind… Old myths die hard.

Insurance

For those who weren't paying attention, you have been reading 100 words of text a day on this blog for the last 2 weeks or so. One of the rules for "100 words" is that you have a one-day grace - you're not "kicked off the island" if you miss a day. I am away all day today so I am writing without a topic, because I don't want to miss a day, just in case I r-e-a-l-l-y need it later.
On our way, we will be listening to cassettes on how to write. I hope you notice some improvements.

The Working Life

I was away looking for myself in Australia (I found myself - they have very odd animals there, so I fit right in) for 4 months between jobs, and I really missed contributing to society. I did not enjoy drifting, was looking for a purpose with a vengeance.
Almost ten years wiser now, I am between jobs again and absolutely satisfied with life. I feel more attuned to my needs, less stressed, not hungering for purpose. I am happily working away on a book, enjoying nature (the new and bright green of the leaves) and my ever-changing, ever-familiar German Shepherds.

Thunder and lightning

As kids, my cousin and I would sit by the window and watch electric storms. My grandma had told me that St. Peter played bowling (do you hear the thunder? His ball is rolling). When the sound broke and the lightning struck, she would say that St. Peter had a hit. And so I told my cousin the same story and we would watch and wait for lightning to strike. We knew the story was made up, but it made the terrifying spectacle more bearable and allowed us to keep our fears in check. To this day, I enjoy storms…

Shared will

And so yesterday, all of Canada was filling out the census form so we would have a snapshot in time of how many of us there are and who we are. There is something awe-inspiring at having a group of people doing things either together or at the same time, be it in sports, class, military parade or filling a census form.
It seems to be the simple act of shared will and sense of purpose that is the kicker. The feeling is brought to a new level when caring and selflessness toward a goal is thrown into the mix.

Grammatical Faux Pas

As my parents grow old, health weaknesses surface. I research those ailments and my fate emerges. I learn about genetic predisposition for different ailments and their onset as well as their evolution and outcome (eventually, you will die). I am so grateful I never wanted to be a doctor; I would have died by proxy a million times. In my chosen profession, I am at risk of committing an awkward sentence or a grammatical faux pas. Death by embarrassment is not unheard of, but I don't believe it will be my fate.
Hear I go living dangerously and defying dead!

Childhood desserts and snacks

What was your all-time favourite snack as a child? For my part, I used to relish (pun intended) spreading ketchup on a piece of bread. Before going to bed, we three kids would have toasts. I always had the same: toast with butter, cinnamon and heaps of sugar. Total bliss! I can’t imagine how I could sleep after that… Actually, I sleepwalked a lot in those years. Hmm… Do you suppose there is a link? Another favourite was a mix of Carnation milk (we were big on that), banana sliced in round bits and again… loads of sugar! And you?

On Humility

Ottawa has its tulip festival; Kemptville has the dandelion one. In the all-too Canadian competition for most humble-sounding festival, Kemptville wins.
During childhood, you hear kids bragging that "their father is stronger than yours" to which the next kid answers "My father is a policeman" - the Ottawa schoolyard variety goes: "My father is a politician". You can't get any humbler.
Does that explain the Senators crushing defeat? I am sure it will be part of the speculations that we will read/hear in the next little while as hurt fans come to grip with the grim reality that is theirs.

Reflexology

A few years ago, I was introduced to reflexology (foot massage) and I have taken to it. With my current availability, I try and give my significant others regular massages. Depending on the "patient", different areas hurt where the blocked energy needs to be released. I always joke that their foot is in a bad way, but the areas do match with known pains (bad knee or eyes, for example). I never fail to be impressed by the accuracy of the mapping. One of my charges regularly falls asleep during the "treatment" waking only when I hit a painful point.

The Lightness of Being : )

God's body is made up of stars and planets. They are his/her cells. Cool thought, hum? Not my own, but I like to share.
I read about the bodi tree (the tree under which Buddha sat for seven years or 49 days, depending on your source, before reaching Enlightenment). The author was saying that it can only propagate through an insect and was wondering why this insect did not also become a Sacred Insect (by most accounts, the tree is said to reproduce through seeds). Nevertheless, it does raise the question: are there any Sacred Insects? Or are we biased?

Autistics

It turns out when you give the correct tools of expression to people affected by autism, they have loads to say. The problem is not that they can't feel anything but rather that they can't express it in ways we understand. For example, they often can't tell where their bodies limits. They don't know if they are sitting or standing - they cannot move if you say "Come" but will stand up and walk to you if you phrase it this way. This week's Time magazine's cover story explores the brains of those affected and methods to work with autistics.

The Colour Orange

Tiger, fruit, flower, cheese, monk's robes, summer, sun (sometimes), pumpkins, pepper, Sunkiss Express, Montreal subway line
Orange is an interesting color. It shows up in the most unusual places in large vegetables or exotic flowers. I used to endlessly wonder why Velveeta cheese, carrots and oranges share the same color with such differing tastes... Green was everywhere to be seen and one focused on ways to differenciate the various foodstuff rather then concentrate on their commonality. I love the different tints of it - vibrancy and speed, warmth and happiness, sunshine. It is a "feel good" colour in my book.

Hiroshima

Hiroshima. A word that stirs up conflicting emotions in me, mostly sadness and guilt. Growing up, when I saw a wheelchair painted on the road near a lowered sidewalk corner, I would be reminded of the shadows of people imprinted in the asphalt.
I can understand the shame of the generations of Germans born after Hitler. They bore the shame and guilt associated with him. And so it is with me and my uneasy relationship with this word, this past and the pain that was inflicted long ago yesterday today. It lives as a reminder of what happens without love.

Talking as Regression

What if talking was really not an improvement in the human race but a regression? I mean, so many people take offense at perceived slights or fight over misunderstandings. Would we not be more peaceful beings if an imprint of out thoughts or feelings were communicated to one another? You will argue that with the advent of language, we have been able to communicate and retain knowledge much more readily and, arguably, evolve faster.
Maybe then, it is not the fact of talking that is the problem, but rather what is being said. Talking is so overrated. Let's try silence.

Alone thoughts

What are the thoughts that come to you when you are alone? Do you mull over your mistakes, replay the movie of your actions until you get the desired results? Or do you re-live the good parts and enjoy them over again?
Or are you one of those who avoid the thoughts that surface from the depth of your being when there are no distractions to cover them up; no music; no tv; no friends on the phone to drown their voices?
Those voices are the only ones worth listening to: the voices of experience, and of wisdom. Your own.

My To-Do List

Here’s what happens when you think you have a winning idea. You talk about it and make it sound like a great idea for someone else to do it and make it work. Here it goes: as part of my 100 words assignment, I thought it would be interesting to lay out a To-Do list. I decided it should be funny, yet accurate. What an eye-opener. My To-Do List was surprisingly boring with stuff I need to do but that is not very entertaining. I have new-found respect for Leno. (Tip: Hyphenate adjectives so they count only as one word).

100 words - first try

Do you want to know what's on my mind? If you do, at any given time, listen to what I hum. It might be an indication of what I am thinking - or of the last word that hit my conscience. An example would be the word garlic (pronounced "aye" in French) which sends me into a rendition of "Aye, aye, aye, aye! Cielito lindo!" You see, only the sound matters: the meaning itself takes a backseat.
And if nothing else strikes my fancy, I go to bed humming the stupid song, grateful for a new day and new words...

Enough said; more words

Canadiens lost. They played so well. Enough said: time to move on to the Senators...

I subscribed to the 100 words site (http://www.100words.net/front.cfm). Here is the deal: it starts fresh every first day of the month. You write 100 words and upload those to the site. You write every day - not one day in advance, nor do you cram later on. You are allowed to forget one day - just one. You have to finish a whole month before it is published. You can't read what you wrote the previous day. Nothing is published if you miss two days.
I never knew about the constraints. It makes it more interesting, actually. I can't start until June (I didn't know about the guidelines) but now I am excited about it. Nothing like obstacles to make you want to jump higher : ) So - should I practice on my blog? That's already 157 words. Less is more...