Sidney has it all.

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New Year’s Eve is a weird juxtaposition for so many.

Goals, celebrations, endings, beginnings. Too much to drink, too much to think about. The kiss at midnight and expectations rarely met. Auld Lang Syne. New York’s Times Square. Fireworks. And too often, disappointment. Resolutions, a countdown, and then what?

After last night many are thinking about earthquakes and being prepared and when will the Big One hit. It made me chuckle to hear the epicenter of the quake was close to Sidney on Vancouver Island. That’s where I’ll be spending New Year’s 2016.

I’ll take the ferry to Swartz Bay and just before we dock, look up to Mt. Tuam, and remember past midnight celebrations.

For years I had opted to spend my Christmas holidays at the Buddhist retreat up on that mountain on Salt Spring Island. The bulk of time spent in silence, meditation and prayer. I was diligent and full of purpose. A time to reboot my mind.

2015-12-30 14.54.40But as December 31st edged closer I would whisper to other retreatants that we should not always conform, not always obey the rules, not always follow the prescribed path.

News Year’s Eve should be a celebration.

So for three years I lead a few brave souls on a clandestine trek to the top of Mt. Tuam for the stroke of midnight.

Lights out at the monastery followed the last group meditation at 7pm. Everyone disappeared to their rooms with a few parting nods and bows. Lama Tara and Lama Shenpen quietly leaving the building for their private cabins at the edge of the forest.

Stillness.

I would wait in my room. Nerves and excitement growing with every hour.

Then at 11:15 we would meet at the door. Final whispered plans were confirmed. No flashlights would be used until we were well past Lama Tara’s cabin. I would have a thermos of hot chocolate for the midnight toast.

The giggles started as soon as the cold air hit our faces. We were eight year’s old again and breaking the house rules.

As soon as we got out to the dirt road the trek was easy. Merriment all around as we made our way to the White Buddha on the side of the cliff that overlooked Vancouver Island.

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Settling in before the strike of midnight we would start the prayers for an auspicious New Year and a wish for kindness and compassion. As we made our recitations the fireworks in Sidney could be seen.

The slow walk back was usually silent. I always thought about the year to come. Would my prayers be enough?

Now I spend New Year’s Eve at Lama Tara’s home in Sidney. There’s an evening walk before an early night. At 7am on January 1st, Lama Tara leads a First Light Buddhist ceremony at a local church for many of the practitioners around the Victoria area. And yes, we pray for an auspicious New Year and for kindness and compassion.

When you think about it not much has changed. I will still wonder if the prayers will be enough.

Who knew Sidney, BC would be an epicenter for so many upheavals and resolutions.

 

 

The Others

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It’s not very Christian of me. It’s not very kind of me. God knows it’s not very Canadian of me… but every time I hear or see another news story about the Syrian refugees I scream “Fuck off” and change the channel.

In the next breath I say, “What about the others?”

I can’t imagine the pain it must be to the people waiting for acceptance into our great country to feel they would’ve had a better chance if they had started their trek in Syria. Or when they do arrive they find that having the label “Syrian” attached to their papers would mean multitudes of welcoming gifts.

The bias and discrimination embarrasses me.

My Facebook feed is filled with the ongoing catastrophe in Nepal with the perfect storm of an earthquake and political mayhem. People are dying. Children are dying. I know many living there and see the devastation. It’s become personal.

Kathmandu has also taught me that destruction beyond our belief is going on all the time. It’s everywhere.

And no, we can’t help everyone. We just can’t.

But when we do open up our doors, let’s not show favour and decide which people landing on our shores deserve the bigger hug.

A wise friend tells me that the powers that be are making sure the discrimination we see on the news is not the full story. All refugees are getting help. I only wish our Prime Minister would remove the word “Syrian” next time he makes a statement about the refugees. Or better still, why doesn’t he go to the airport and personally welcome someone from Ghana?

I’d be pleased and proud and joining the chorus if every news story these days was about how we were welcoming all refugees into Canada.

For every man, woman and child, no matter what your colour, religious belief or nationality… if you are a refugee and come to Canada you will be equal.

I sense the tide is turning and more people are noticing.

I hope so.

 

 

Sing Along

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Music was on my mind this week but a few other thoughts kept creeping into my writing.

So…

I love music. I love Christmas music. My iPod’s Christmas playlist is 4 hours and 38 minutes long. That’s a great deal of fa la la’s.

We are surrounded by people doing jobs that make our lives easier and better. Usually they are underpaid and invisible. Think about the man washing dishes in the back of the restaurant or the young woman that empties your office garbage each night. We should notice them. I was once a Safeway cashier. The frenzy of the Christmas season led me to quit even before I made it to December 24th. These days I never go through a check-out without asking the clerk how their day is going. I tell them they are doing a job I could never do. If we have a few extra moments I ask if they’ve had any assholy customers that day. This usually gets a laugh. My goal is to never be that asshole.

I love music. I love great vocals and heartfelt lyrics. My eyes and ears were glued to the TV this week with Jordan Smith winning the Voice and Adele’s New York concert. If you’re a creative person how can you not be inspired by Adele? I’m so glad she’s back. And Jordan… well his win restores my faith that vocals should rule the day.

On the weekend I went to the VanDusen Botanical Gardens to see the Christmas lights. I asked a young couple to sit on the bench so I could take their picture… this is what love looks like.van dusen blogI’ve taken other pictures of couples on park benches. I love the look on their faces when I show them the image and offer to send it to them. It’s a very easy way to spread some joy.

I love music. A great song has the power to change your mind.

Every day I get to spend time with amazing people. My clients are some of the most interesting, funny, heroic and inspiring people I’ve ever met. I love my job. Sometimes I am overwhelmed with how lucky I am.

I love music. I’ve been known to sing while I drive. I sound like crap but no one can hear so all is good. The new host of the Late Late Show, James Corden, has been getting famous singers to go for a ride with him… I dare you to watch this and not smile. One Direction and James

I also love penguins.

Christmas Magic

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We were at the right place at the right time. They were at the right place at the right time. What happened was it little bit of Christmas magic.

I think it was 1991 and the ad agency, Bryant Fulton and Shee (aka TBWA Vancouver) was at its peak. One of our clients, BC Children’s Hospital reached out to us for some extra help with the holidays. A little girl was going though cancer treatments and it was taking its toll. We were asked to “adopt” the family.

A notice went up in our staff kitchen with a request for a couple of presents. The age of the girl and her siblings were given with a few “Santa wishes.”

I have no idea how or why this little note caused such a flurry. Maybe it was because our boss, Darrel Shee, spent so much time reading about the family and looking at their picture.

Darrel made us think.

The gifts began to pile up. It started small with a couple of toys for each of the kids. The agency media director gave a new Seiko watch for the mom. Of course that meant we needed to get a great sweater for Dad!

Soon we added an elaborate chart to make sure we were covering all the bases.

Lunch time and coffee breaks were spent scanning the list and thinking what else could be done.

We couldn’t cure this little girl but we could ease the family’s burden.

Parking passes for hospital.

A Christmas tree, ornaments and a stand… we can’t forget the stand.

Lots of Safeway gift cards. Boxes of canned goods and everyday essentials.

A turkey, and for sure a pot big enough to cook it in.

And lots of gifts from Santa to be opened on Christmas morning.

We knew the family didn’t have much so the goal was to give what would be needed to have the best Christmas and food to last for the next six months.

I was one of the lucky few that made the delivery to their little home. A whole van load of Christmas cheer. The family just stood and watched as we carried in boxes and boxes and stacked them in the narrow hallway.

The goal was to not make this look like a charity ploy. We didn’t want them to feel uncomfortable. But as we were leaving the whole family stood in a line and hugged each of us. I cried.

Back at the agency we gathered in the big boardroom to share what had happened. Darrel spoke about the true meaning of Christmas. The agency was known for its famous ads for Kokanee Beer and Earl’s Restaurants but I think we were prouder of what we had done for that family than any creative awards we had ever received.

We made some magic happen and that is what Christmas should be about.

Months later I read the notice that the little girl passed away.

 

Worth Repeating

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There was never any doubt I would be running the Salvation Army Santa Shuffle again this year. I also knew it would be the topic of my blog this week. As I sat down to write the piece I realized there was no way I could top what happened with my story last year. The Salvation Army people posted it on the homepage of their website…

Sal Dad

I’ve never been so proud of anything I’ve ever written and I’m pretty confidant Dad would have been thrilled.

So it is worth repeating…

Blog from December 3, 2014

My twitter feed asked a question that gave me the answer to what I would blog about this week…

santa shuffle blog

Why do I run the Salvation Army’s Santa Shuffle every year?

On December 4th, 2008 I went to visit Dad. He was not well and the dementia was looming large. We somehow managed to chat about my running in the Santa Shuffle to raise money for the Salvation Army. Because of the run and the time I needed to spend with the triplets, I would not see Dad for two days. Unheard of in the midst of our usual daily visits. But Dad thought the run was important and I think he knew I was also doing it for him. The Salvation Army was his favourite charity.

The run was on Saturday, December 6th. After we finished I spent the day with the kids. As I headed home I picked up the phone message. Get to the hospital as fast as I could.

I was too late. When I arrived Dad was gone.

The next year I did the run and cried for the entire 5k. But I did it for Dad. He would have wanted and expected me to carry on.

I have run the race every year since then. I make a donation and know it’s how Dad would want me to remember him.

The last time Dad and I talked he wished me good luck for the race. And then his last words were, “You are a good daughter.”

I will never know if he was referring to my helping the Salvation Army, or if he meant something more.

I choose to think it was more.

This is why I will run the Santa Shuffle this year.

For Dad.

 

Pee

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Symptom or cause?

One of my biggest pet peeves is the focus on symptoms and not a search for the cause.

I don’t know if we’ve just become a society of whiners or if there’s a deeper underlying reason for our emphasis on what should be done about our multitude of symptoms.

Sometimes it feels like politicians and the media prey on our propensity to act this way.

An easy “fix” of the symptom can be a Tylenol for a brain tumour or giving a homeless person a bed for one night.

And yes, we tend to go to our doctor with a symptom and expect to get a remedy.

Most doctors don’t have time for the lengthy investigation on how you got to the state you’re in so they give you something to solve the problem. If the solution isn’t straight forward there will be tests to pinpoint and clarify the symptom.

Here’s an example…

One of the multitudes of tests I had over the last year to diagnose why I was in so much pain led to the discovery that there was an unusually high amount of calcium in my urine. The doctor mentioned this to me but we were focused on other negative test results so we let that one slide. Thank goodness my doctor didn’t feel the need to explore the cause and luckily she didn’t just give me a pill to cure the problem.

I knew right away why the reading was high. My daily trips to Dairy Queen were clearly having an impact. I opted to not share this with my doctor and curbed my Blizzard intake to a couple times a week. Problem solved right?

Wrong.

And it goes back to symptom and cause.

It’s the analogy of peeling an onion. The next question should have been, “Why am I stuffing ice cream in my face every day when I know it hurts me?”

See how this works? And can you see that the problem just might be bigger than some extra calcium in my pee or my clear enjoyment of Blizzards.

This is when you can get closer to the truth and the root cause of why we do what we do.

The examination isn’t easy.

But wouldn’t we be better off if we started to search for the true cause of our troubles?

Symptoms are easy to spot.

Why do we still have so many homeless people? What is the cause?

I’m guessing we would then have to deal with our other favourite fallback…

Denial.

 

 

Monday

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Monday was a reminder that days can be bombarded with too many emotions.

Ian Rankin was giving a talk in Vancouver and there was never any doubt I would be there.

It was September 19th, 2006 when I first met Ian on a hilltop in Edinburgh.

2006Oddly enough he looks about the same even though I seem to have aged.

Monday night

Monday night

He’s still funny and kind. He’s still my favourite writer.

But that wasn’t the most important thing that happened on Monday.

And it wasn’t the news from Paris… or Beirut or any of the other stories filling our news feeds and screens.

What I will remember the most about Monday, November 16th, 2015, was standing at the side of a gravesite watching my friend’s face as he said goodbye to his son.

And I will remember hugging my friend as the service ended. We cried and as much as I wanted to say something to bring comfort I knew there would never be any solace.

Later that night Ian Rankin was asked what he thought was his best book, he said, “Black and Blue.” His reason was that a family tragedy involving his son led him to write cathartically. The act of putting the darkness he felt inside on those pages led to his most successful novel.

Some say hindsight is a glorious thing.

But it is sometimes too hard to wait for the good to happen.

A great many things happened on Monday, November 16th….

And nothing will ever be the same again.

 

 

Who’s listening?

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Do you talk to yourself?

I mean do you talk to yourself out loud? And I don’t mean that internal dialogue we all do, but a real, full voice conversation with yourself.

I’ve been watching what I do during a normal day at home or in the car between clients. Yes, I yell at other drivers…please don’t judge me, it’s therapeutic. When I’m by myself I tend it be pretty quiet except for a few whispers. I’m most vocal when I’m writing. I write and then read out loud. I talk my way through my work.

This past weekend I spent a great many hours with a dog named Sadie and a cat named Massie. Just the three of us in a huge house. Oddly enough we spent the entire time together. If I happened to move to a different room the gang would come with me.

I also spent the whole time talking with the two of them. The chatter did not stop. And weirdly enough I think both Sadie and Massie were active partners in the dialogue. Whether a wagging tail, a bark, a head bump or just choosing to sit on my computer keyboard, Sadie and Massie added to the conversation. They seemed very vocal in their own way and made their opinions known.

This made me wonder if all people living with animals spend their entire time talking to them. I know I talked to my two cats and budgie, but I now wonder if that’s the norm.

Do you talk to your pet? Is it a constant stream of thoughts, questions, and maybe even answers?

I don’t think I would have chatted as much this weekend if another person had been there. Or maybe we are just more vocal when the listener can’t use words to answer back.

We all want someone to hear us.

And even more important, we want someone to care about what we’re saying.

Who’s listening to you?

 

 

It is your right.

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Why do others get to decide when “too much”, isn’t?

I have never understood this premise.

An aspect of my personal trainer life is working with people with terminal illnesses. I bet you didn’t know they sometimes hire trainers. Odd but true. Why wouldn’t a person want to be at their best for as long as they can? It’s just human nature.

And it gives them some control.

“Can you keep my arm strong enough for just a little longer?”

“Yes I can.”

This line of work allows me to know people like Elayne Shapray. And through Elayne I have met some people at “Dying With Dignity”. Elayne played a big part in the effort that led to the Supreme Court making the unanimous ruling that gives people the right to assisted dying.

So a done deal, correct?

No.

Even though the Supreme Court said it is a human right, the issue is still being debated?

Yes.

The Supreme Court gave the law-makers until February 2016 to make this happen so we must be close to giving people their rights back?

No.

This makes me crazy.

And it makes me show up at the rally today in downtown Vancouver. Some very reasonable people spoke about the need to push forward to ensure the Supreme Court ruling is put into practice.

Elayne Shapray speaking at today's rally.

Elayne Shapray speaking at today’s rally.

No more lip-service. No more delays. Nor more hiding behind lame excuses.

The people I have helped die deserved so much more.

We owe the people in need so much more.

It is their right.

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The Speech

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I have to give a speech tonight.

Well not really a speech, just some opening remarks at an event at the SFU Centre for Scottish Studies.

The nerves are setting in. Public speaking is tough.

The task seems even more daunting because this past Sunday I heard a truly masterful speech by Terry Fallis. When you’ve heard the best you can appreciate your shortcomings.

Terry gave the closing keynote speech at the Surrey International Writers’ Conference. It’s the 5th year I’ve attended and this one set a new high.

During the conference I had the opportunity to chat with Terry a few times. The conference is famous for giving attendees complete access to all the presenters, writers, agents and publishers. Sharing a meal with Anne Perry or a whisky with Jack Whyte is commonplace.

Terry was kind and approachable. We found out he’s a huge Blue Jays fan who takes a loss very well indeed. Terry is funny but I guess you’d know that if you’ve read any of his books. He is very funny.terry for blog

But I had no idea his power until he stepped up to the podium on Sunday.

He told us the story of how his first book, “The Best Laid Plans” got published and won the Stephen Leacock Award For Humour.

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Self-effacing, lyrical, poignant, exquisite pacing. A master at work.

Our laughter would die down and Terry would move to the next part of the story and have the crowd in gales again. It was exhausting. And hilarious.

Then he hit us.

Terry asked us to grab our lanyards and remove the name card. No, he didn’t ask… Terry told us what to do. He yelled. There was no option but to follow his instructions.

Then his tone softened and he said to add “writer” underneath our name. Because that’s what we were… writers.

I grabbed my pen and added the word. I couldn’t look up because I was crying. The room went silent as everyone claimed their identity.

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Terry made us believe.

The standing ovation went long.

 

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