Monday night I dreamt I met Justin Trudeau. Oddly enough, the incident happened at the Sea-To-Sky Gondola parking lot in Squamish. It’s weird how your brain mashes random thoughts together when you’re asleep.

Justin and I talked about his win. How being in the right place at the right time is everything. Fate, luck and a bit of planning. He seemed to think it was the same way with our meeting in that remote parking lot. Someone could take a picture of us chatting and assume we were friends. Assume we liked each other. That would be the message the image would convey.

And it would be wrong.

I woke up and decided to write one last blog about this election.

It embarrassed me.

It was one of the most negative campaigns I have ever witnessed and mostly directed at the Prime Minister. Relenting and divisive.

Is this what the future holds?

When Justin blabbed on about running a positive campaign he was correct. There was no need for him to say anything negative about Harper when the people of Canada were doing his dirty work.

It seemed that everyone that wasn’t for Harper was spouting off about the evils of this man. A terrorist, a racist, a killer and child hater. The way he was described he was no better than a murderer and should have been hauled off to jail years ago. Or burned alive at a stake. Or… or… or…

Or maybe politicians must never stay in power longer than eight years. Year nine seems to be a tipping point for them and us.

There was so much hate even Jon Oliver jumped on-board. That might have been the low point for me.

I only met one person that was pro-Justin but multitudes that were anti-Harper.

It’s sad that I smile at the few comments I’ve heard today about whether Justin will be able to keep his promises. Has the harsh reality of our next four years already started?

My only take away is a promise to myself to never go negative no matter what is going on around me. Cruel words can never be erased. I’ll even say that to knowingly let others fall into the trap doesn’t absolve you. I must be more responsible. I will not stir the pot based on my ideas and perceptions. Taking the high road will be difficult.

I pray none of you will ever be in a position where thousands of bullies decide to attack you.

In my dream Justin ends our chat and then steps onto a luxury cruise ship. There are some fancy and powerful people on board to greet him. He turns back to me, and says… “I ran a perfect campaign.”

Then he winked.

Yesterday I bought some cloth napkins. A set of eight, all with a different phrase.

I don’t even own a dining room table so doubt they will ever be used in any formal way, but I loved them and couldn’t resist.

A few times a month people come to my home to write. That will be the excuse to use the napkins…

You see, we usually write from prompts and for the last year have relied on these “social conversation starters” for the topics.

A card is drawn and we have 8 minutes to write on the subject. After years of doing this I swear I can write a short story on any subject at any time.

My only problem is when we decide to lengthen the amount of time given for one topic. When the prompt is mundane, “your favourite meal” or silly, “what cartoon character would you like to be?” I can get lost and run out of steam.

Long ago we were taught a trick to use if you run out of something to say or if you lose your train of thought and get stuck. Simply write, “What I meant to say is…” This usually gets your pen moving again. A very powerful tool that has never failed me.

Recently I realized these six words can be used all the time.

They are magical when it’s your pen and paper… but even more powerful when you’re speaking.

They will make you stop all the yelling and posturing and blablabla-ing.

We humans can get off track and have conversations that have nothing to do with our original intent. We can forget why we are even talking with this person. We can let our emotions rule our vocal cords and stifle what our heart is trying to say. We can be so angry that it’s easier to yell “fuck you.” We can be so hurt that tears cloud any response.

Taking a breath and saying, “What I meant to say is…” can be your reboot.

And even if it’s just to take that moment to not let your heart be misunderstood.

Try it sometime… try it today.

“What I meant to say is… I’m sorry.”

“What I meant to say is… it’s not your cooking it’s just that I hate blue cheese.”

“What I meant to say is… I love you and want you to be happy.”

“What I meant to say is…”

Two events shaped my past week. Even though they seem to be related I couldn’t find a theme to join them up in 500 words. So I gave up and decided to examine the refugee issue.

How could I not? The daily news or most recent Facebook posts can make you feel like the world is falling apart and there’s not much we can do to help. I mean seriously, does “liking” a post on social media really mean anything? The headlines come and go so quickly. Today’s massacre morphs into tomorrow’s natural disaster without even a story arc.

The Kathmandu earthquake chatter has come and gone. It has fallen out of the public eye. It’s no longer the topic discussed on talk radio or hashtagged on Twitter. Now it’s about the refugees fleeing Syria.

We are like dogs chasing squirrels. I try to be a little more pragmatic.

Shirley and two students that attended SMD (Rabjur and Tenzin Sherpa)

Last week I met with Dungse Lama Pema for some advice on ways to help people dealing with death. He is the head resident lama and representative of the Very Venerable Thrangu Rinpoche at the Thrangu Monastery. My day job often has me dealing with people’s ultimate loss. We talked about prayers and wishes and the best ways to help. As I looked at his face I was reminded that nothing can be as comforting as being close to a person that really cares. Human touch can speak louder than any social media post.

with Lama Pema

Fast forward to Sunday night. Shirley Blair, the director and driving force at the Shree Mangal Dvip school in Nepal, was in Vancouver to update us on the aftershocks of the earthquake in Kathmandu. The school is a project founded by Thrangu Rinpoche. The disaster continues to cause havoc for the children and teachers. The trouble is ongoing and people are still going to die. Shirley doesn’t sugarcoat the facts.

But she also gives us hope. Maybe the hint is in her voice? That’s where you can detect the resolve, love, heartbreak and joy of what she does. She talks about the “kids” and tells little stories about how they are handling the new norm. She makes us laugh. She makes us cry. Shirley is a force and if anyone can take on a natural disaster, I would bet on her.

I’m fortunate to play a minor part in helping a friend that continues to raise a huge amount of money for the school. Listening to Shirley only makes me want to do more.

So where does this all connect to the refugees?

Decades ago, Thrangu Rinpoche fled Tibet and found a safe haven in Nepal. He promised to spend his life helping the people that helped him. He’s kept his word and from that thousands of lives have been changed.

Mine included.

So in September 2015, right here in Vancouver, I am being inspired and benefited all because a refugee was given a chance.

That is headline worthy.

Most will think I’m going to blog about writing the test for my Personal Training re-certification. It was a grueling few hours on the long weekend and I hate taking tests. A predictable and timely subject.

Fortunately that was not the highlight of my weekend.

I spent too many hours watching the NASCAR race from Darlington. It’s the track they call “Too Tough to Tame” and the broadcast this year was all retro. For someone that started watching NASCAR back in the 80’s this was a dream come true. All the cars had old style paint jobs. The drivers sporting old fashioned looking racing gear and the announcers dressed in some of the finest disco wear I’ve seen for a long time.

NBC added the old peacock logo into all their promos and hyped up every angle of the broadcast to make the throwback fully dimensional.

Coke aired the famous Mean Joe Greene ad!

The best part of the whole show was when they brought back three of the sports now retired announcers to call the race for almost an hour.

Ken Squier, Ned Jarrett and Dale Jarrett’s voices took me back to the reason I first started watching the sport, (I was in love with a man that loved racing) and a reminder how much we’ve all aged. (I’m now so old and jaded that I’d never watch hockey no matter how much I loved a man.)

During this part of the broadcast everyone seemed to get teary eyes. It was a great tribute to one of the USA’s biggest sports and done in a way only the Americans can seem to pull off.

I enjoyed it all. Well, all except Dale Earnhardt Jr. not winning.

But what I loved even more was celebrating my own personal throwback. This past week I went to the PNE for the first time in years. The sights, the sounds, the Super-Dogs and this year even some Super Heroes.

There is nothing better than sharing some poutine or a deep-fried Mars Bar with a dear friend.It might not be what you would expect from someone that got 96% on a personal training course…

But it IS what you would expect to be the one thing to make me smile again.

There are two things close to my heart, the notion that one person can make a difference and above all else, the fact that we need to be taking better care of our children. All our children.

This week a friend crammed both of these ideas into one Facebook post. It made me cry. It made me proud to know this man. And it made me wonder what else can be accomplished.

The short version of the story: Hubert Wat is a life-long, passionate, Kansas City Chiefs fan. He hated that the team played a version of the Gary Glitter song, “Rock & Roll Park II” during their football games. He wrote and asked them to stop because Glitter is in jail for committing unforgivable abuses on children and each time the song was played Glitter got paid. On Friday they agreed. If you compare Mr. Wat’s letter and the Chief’s announcement it is obvious they took note and highlighted some of the exact issues he voiced.

You might think this is beyond amazing, but there is more; Mr. Wat has gotten other companies to follow suit. And it’s all so this monster, Gary Glitter, will not get any more money.

Victory.

Yes, this seems like a no-brainer, but we should never be complacent and OK with people that abuse children being rewarded in our society. We need to stop it.

The victims are forever scarred.

There was a common phrase that my abusive step-father would say to me and for years after I left home I flinched whenever I heard those words. Even if someone else said them I was thrown back into that hell. I hope Gary Glitter’s victims never have to hear his song. And that is a good enough reason to ban it everywhere.

There are other celebrity perpetrators that continue on after being accused of harming a child. Mr. Wat makes me believe there is a chance I could write a letter and make this insanity stop.

He gives me hope.

By the way, I’ve always called him Mr. Wat and he has always called me Ms. Barker.

From now on I might start calling him, Mr. “I Perform Miracles” Wat.