More of the Same

I admit it. I succumbed. In wondering about 2012, like many others, I resolved once more to eat healthier, get fitter, slimmer, and be more fiscally responsible. In fact, reading a survey in the newspaper of the top five most common New Year’s resolutions, within a few hours of waking on January 1st, I had considered at least four of the five.

It seems a pointless mental exercise, to make resolutions to do more or be better than I am now. As I walked yesterday morning I was feeling pretty good. Happy that the holiday season has now finally (and thankfully says my inner Scrooge) wound down, I am looking towards 2012 with excitement and anticipation. I can’t say the exact reason, but I am very content. Outside my window I can see the fresh footprints I made in the snow on our walk this morning. A wind blowing the tree branches is signaling the blustery winter day it has become. There’s a gray sky and the odd snowflake twirling to the ground. January is not the most comforting of months. It’s cold outside. After a busy December, it is a bit anti-climactic, socially. What’s coming is a hunkering down month. A cuddle up on the couch, soup eating, warm sock wearing time of year. But, or maybe because of these things, January is a month for thinking, for resetting, for commencing. Like September it feels all new and full of promise.

Stepping into 2012, I realize that my happy anticipating is in large part a result of the kind of year 2011 was. A rollercoaster of a year, full of real highs and some heartbreaking lows; there was no middle ground in 2011. This year I happened upon some cool new sounds, lost people too soon, started anew, was taken aback, settled comfortably in, shared belly laughs and did myself proud.

Discovered Treasure

I have an on again off again relationship with music. I like listening to music, but more often than not, even when writing, prefer quiet. If I had one, the soundtrack of my life would have, up until recently, been boring mix of Sarah McLaughlin, Coldplay, Adele, David Gray, Black Eyed Peas, Gaga, Alicia Keyes, Nirvana, U2. This year, I stumbled upon Florence and the Machine, The Black Keyes, Dandy Warhols, James Blake and his cover of Joni Mitchell’s A Case of You, and The Sheepdogs. Who knew such beauty and fun were just headphones away?

Passages

I struggle with what to say about my friend Paul. It all seems so inadequate. How do you sum up what a person means to you and those you love? Impossible. So I will simply say this - Paul was like sunshine. He was warmth and light. An adventurous spirit and wonderful storyteller, he was the heart mate to Niamh. He left us too soon, but also left us enriched for having known him.

I think Robert Frost got it wrong. In my experience it is not good fences that make good neighbours, but lack of them. I am lucky in the people living around me. We BBQ in the warmer weather. We share beers in the back garden in the fall; go for dinner and a movie in the winter months. We check in on each other when one of us is sick, walk dogs or mind cats, housesit or pick up mail. We talk politics, share books, travel tips and recipes. It’s a wonderful community. But it won’t be quite the same without kindhearted, accomplished, curious, ballsy and utterly unique Betsy.

It is astonishing to me that the passing of someone I never met can have had such an affect on me. When Jack Layton died in August, for a brief moment after I heard the news, I felt panicky. It was as if somehow things weren’t as alright in the world as they had been just before that. Regardless of where Canadians fall politically, no one can question Jack’s commitment to encouraging Canadians to look after one another and the world. The inspiring words in his open letter to Canadians still move me, as I hope they do others. “Love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we’ll change the world.”

Uphill Climbs

This year, my perpetual struggle with weight loss saw some actual success. To be honest I really tried – maybe that had something to do with it. It feels good. Besides dieting, I stepped up my activity level and even, towards the end of the year joined a gym. Again. Inspired to keep going and undeterred by any setback, I continue; and speaking of uphill climbs, bike season is just around the corner. Weeeeeeee.

Giggles

Maybe more because of the tough losses this year, I spent many memorable nights out with family and friends giggling. Among the 2011 highlights: Friday nights on Fionn’s patio, Harper’s first dinner party, the movie Bridesmaids, Pride, Thanksgiving with the family and pub crawling with the Castillos.

Shining Moments

This year I took a chunk of time for myself. A full 10 weeks. I am proud of that. It is hard to put into words just what that time meant to me and how it continues to inform my thoughts and actions, even now. To an outside observer, it would be tough to determine exactly what I accomplished during August and September of this year. But for me, I set my feet firmly on the right path. There were days when I did nothing at all but walk the dogs and sit in my backyard thinking. There were wildly creative days. I napped most days. I ate and drank whatever I wished. I read some, wrote lots. But more than anything, I mulled things over. Emerging from my sabbatical, I am more sure than I have ever been about myself and so incredibly grateful for all I have.

Surprises

I am resilient. It is one of the things I like about myself. I bounce back and so does my heart.

Ever the hopeful romantic, in 2011 after ending a long relationship, I ventured into the land of love again with an open heart. People come into our lives, I know, for a myriad of reasons and timeframes. Was I saddened to see that things weren’t quite what I hoped for? Absolutely. But time has a way of taking care of these feelings and I cannot be anything but grateful for all the wonderful things that came into my life as a result of having known him.

The brilliant John Cheever is supposed to have said that "the deep joy we take in the company of people with whom we have just recently fallen in love is undisguisable". Here’s hoping 2012 is full of many blatantly obvious blissful moments.

Routines

There are really only two things I do that keep me sane. I walk my dogs and I write.

Maybe it is the Catholic in me, but rituals make me feel grounded. I have other regular stuff I do throughout the year like lighting a candle on my father’s birthday or going for coffee on Sunday mornings to read sections of the New York Times. I never work on my birthday, preferring to spend some time with my mom and celebrate in any other way that suits my fancy. I drink a pint glass of water every morning while the dogs eat their breakfast and I spend each New Year’s Eve reading my journal entries from the year that just ended. This past year, I took on two more regular things that have had wonderful impact on my life.

Round about March I joined a writer’s group, which meets monthly to share our work, talk about writing and nudge each other along supportively. I take such inspiration from these folks. I am writing better now in part due to their feedback and encouragement.

If it sounds like I am brimming with gratitude, I am. Unapologetically so. While on leave, I tried meditation. I wasn’t successful at it. But as I tried to clear my mind of all thoughts, one thing became clear to me. One persistent thought kept popping into my head. I have so much to be grateful for. This realization continues to pop up on such a regular basis that I try now, as much as possible, to stop and give it a moment to sink in. No matter what else is going on, for that second, I smile. I feel happy.

Sitting at my desk here thinking about my year, Murphy is snoring by my feet. I can feel the warmth of his big head resting against my foot and his breath tickling my toes as he exhales. Who wouldn’t be joyful?

I have resolved to make no resolutions for 2012. But I do intend to continue on as I have been – discovering new things, laughing, challenging myself, loving, coping with the tough stuff, creating and being grateful for it all.

Balance

I find great comfort in the universe’s ability to right itself; to maintain harmony; to counterbalance each action with an equal but opposite reaction. I can tend to forget about life’s splendid capacity for symmetry while wrapped up inside my head, particularly when my thoughts are darker than usual.

Until now I have made a point not to write about love here much because, frankly, I suck at it. My ego doesn’t like me to be that exposed and would prefer I stick to chat about things I have or wish to accomplish, issues that I need to rave about or in the telling or retelling of tales funny, curious or moving to me. In retrospect though I see how flawed this thinking is. I began this blog with the goal of discussing not just my book lust but also my struggle to get more active, lose weight and improve my health. Talking about being overweight and how that feels is about as personal as it gets. It’s not easy. I often feel awkward and raw around the topic.

But as tough as that might be, it ain’t nothing compared to how writing about love feels to me. So one might wonder, why bother?

First and foremost, it is important to note that writing is how I process. It is my chosen and most comfortable form of expression, and a sorter outer for me as I communicate the good the bad and the ugly of life.

Secondly, I am certain I cannot be the only one who feels from time to time that they have a defective love gene. There must be others who think that this isn’t how it’s supposed to work. Case in point, I stumbled upon this commentary from the eminently talented author Neil Gaimon earlier this week.

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.”

Paints a pretty sad picture eh? My soul-hurt isn’t as dark as all that. It’s more just a disappointing ache. A realization that things are not what I thought them to be. But, man! Gaimon’s description is emotionally visceral. I loved tripping into it so much that the drama queen in me could not help but reread it over a few times and then share it with a friend or two, relating my situation to that which is described above. A bit of wallowing ensued.

And then, just like that, the very next day the universe righted itself. Perspective was restored and a wonderfully dynamic group of people in the form of a new writers group entered my life. Something good, something creative, something to remind me of the beauty of being me doing the one thing I love most.

I still do not feel all that comfortable writing about love. Maybe that is because I am not that comfortable in love, generally. But if I know one thing for sure, it is the more comfortable I am in my own skin, the less it matters. The emotional ebb and flow is fodder for my writing. So in the end, it all balances out nicely.

Our Game

Our Father, who art in GM Place, hockey be thy name, thy will be done. GOLD to be WON on ICE as well as IN THE STANDS, give us this day, our hockey sticks and forgive us our penalties, as we forgive those who cross check against us. Lead us not into elimination but deliver us to victory, in the name of the fans, CANADA and the HOLY PUCK. AMEN!!

GO CANADA GO!!!!

We Are More

Shane Koyczan's phenomenal poem delivered at the Opening Ceremonies of the Winter Olympics deserves thunderous praise as he strikes a chord in Canadians everywhere, inspiring pride beyond measure.

Shane, you did good!



We made it be!!!!

10 for 10

Looking back on it, 2009 was an extraordinarily good year in my little part of the universe. I am incredibly blessed to have people in my life to love and who love me, a cozy little place to call my own, robust health and a good job. Today, in this moment in time, I am happy and grateful and feel inspired on many levels.

I do not ascribe to the notion of New Year’s resolutions. Last year, for the first time in years, I made one – to avoid all discussions of the weather. For the most part, I stuck to it. I continue to refrain from weather smalltalk. We live in a northern climate. We have four distinct seasons and the weather changes from day to day. None of this is new or newsworthy. I would much prefer to chat about something someone read or saw or experienced; something someone is thinking about rather than the fact that it’s cold out or wet out or humid.

So no New Year’s resolutions to be made by this Chiquita. But in lieu of that, a wee recap of 2009 and thoughts for the coming year...

I began blogging last January with a project in mind, to read more and to try to lose weight. I set a seemingly achievable goal of 50 pounds and 50 books for my year’s project. One pound and one book per week, approximately. While I did not make my goal in either regard, I had a fabulous time trying and am still quite pleased to be a consistent 13 lbs lighter and having read about 24 books this year that I would likely not have read otherwise. In retrospect it was more like a pound a month and a book every two weeks give or take. Not too shabby all things considered.

Goals are important. I realized just how much so this past November, during my novel writing challenge. I am a person who needs goals to accomplish things. I like the structure, the accountability, the timeline. So I set goals for myself. And strive to meet them. Last year, I read a blog where the author chooses a defining word at the beginning of each year. Something to guide her, focus her attention. It’s a cool idea. If I had to pick a word for my 2009, it would be creative.

Without a doubt, the highlight of my year was the NaNoWriMo writing challenge which I participated in during November. I learned so much about myself as a writer in this exercise. I can actually see that writing is a real possibility for me as a career and life’s occupation. I have written a novel. It’s a messy, badly in need of several re-writes, research and massaging in every way, piece of work. But nonetheless, a novel it is. I am supremely proud of this achievement.

2009 was a year in which I also:

• Passed my exam and got my Project Management Professional certification
• Shared juicy stories and embarrassing moments, worries and triumphs sitting comfy on patios, at kitchen tables and on the couches of Postridge, Battenburg and Hibernia
• Drank sangria sitting on La Ramblas in Barcelona and walked happily and aimlessly along the beaches of Sitges
• Took in the magnificence of the Cliffs of Moher once again
• Cried happy tears at the wedding of dear friends
• Successfully lead several implementations at work which I believe benefit patients coming to hospital for chemotherapy treatments, pre-operative assessments, mental health consultations and cardiac procedures
• Became better acquainted with Annie Dillard, Alice Munro and David Sedaris
• Said no more
• Saved some, spent some but came out ahead
• Welcomed Matilda to our peaceful household in all her she-devilish, spunky, sweet chocolate lab beauty
• Shed quiet tears at the loss of another member of the family’s old guard
• Overanalyzed the nuances of politics domestic and foreign sipping pints at the Imperial and chatted books and religion at Dukes city wide
• Realized I need bifocals, made real peace with my curves and counted myself lucky to enjoy curls

Such is indeed the makings of a good year and I look towards 2010 richer for the experiences I have had. Much is made of the passing of the decade. In chatting with friends about this particular new year, I had really forgotten it was a decade marker until reminded of it in our conversation. Time certainly does pass us by quickly, which only serves to remind me of the importance of living in the present, fully engaged and aware. It reminds me of that Henry Miller quote about living. An apology for the misquoting but it goes something like: the aim of life is to be aware, joyously, drunkenly, serenely, divinely aware. Joyously aware sounds pretty good to me.

Despite that it is customary, which somehow conveys to me ordinary, I am not immune to the notion of setting a tone for the coming year. So in lieu a resolution and in honour of the decade that has past, here are ten ideas that I wish to make mine moving into 2010.

Read – Already I am all over this one. Whether newspapers, magazines or books; be the format online, soft or hard cover; purchased from independents (preferably) or big well stocked conglomerates, reading still provides me with one of the greatest joys and sources of inspiration, knowledge and food for thought. I look forward to the undiscovered joys that reading will bring to me.

Explore – Travel feeds the soul, at least this soul anyway. Unscheduled, aimless exploration of new parts of the world, different ways of communicating, eating, celebrating, depicting our history await me. The experience of it will alter me in ways I do not even know yet. But isn’t that part of the fun of it?

Write – My chosen form of expression, my bumpy struggle, exhilarating and more frustrating a journey than any I know. My hard won achievement, my joy and my challenge. I could easily have used the word communicate here or create or speak, rather than write. As hard as it often is, I cannot see a day without writing in my future and look forward to the excruciation and the bliss.

Present – I still have to remind myself every single day to try to remain present; to focus my energy and my attention on the here and the now. I know that yesterday is over and cannot be altered. Worry over tomorrow just takes away from today. Who I am with. Today. What I have to do. Today. What beauty surrounds me. Today. What help there is to give. Today, I strive to live presently.

Nurture – I am not a mother, but I do have a wee one at home these days. Not a baby, but a puppy. She’s a beauty and needs guidance. This year will be much about teaching Matilda to be a good companion, well mannered and easy to get along with as Murphy is.

Connect – Frequently I muse on the blessings I have in friendship and family. Relationships take work and while we all manage somehow to stay connected I recognize the importance of making time to venture westward or drag my arse out of the house and away from the computer for brunch so as to enjoy the personal bounty that has been bestowed upon me in the lives of these wonderful people.

Persevere – I am not the most disciplined person in the world. Far from it. Procrastination is still very much a regular in my arsenal of coping and copping out mechanisms. I learned this year that to just keep on struggling through provides you with, if nothing else, the sense of achievement at never having given up. I will write on, slim down, save and never, not ever, give up!

Gentle – Strength is good. But sometimes tenderness and a gentler approach work wonders. I am not good at this. I embrace my strength and wrap myself up in a coat of confidence that I know could do with some time spent hanging in the closet. What would my world look like if I was gentler with the earth, listened more to others, was less hard on myself and sat quietly observing rather than doing?

Conserve – Frugality is not something that comes naturally to me. I can certainly dial it down and do not really live outside my means. But balancing between what is necessary to truly live well and happily and thoughtless spending for the sake of the moment is worth considering.

Calm – It is not so much that I wish to be a calmer person, although there are times when I feel this would help me. Calm here to me means seeking rest, rejuvenation, quieting down and taking time to slow the pace and simply be, enjoy and think… calmly.

I have no idea what 2010 has in store for me or those dear to me. Peace on earth doesn’t sound too bad. I would hope to grow. I prefer that to a static state. Whatever awaits us, I know it will be an adventure. Regardless of where I find myself at the end of 2010, I am looking forward to the ride.

Peace,
MB

Sheeeeee's here!

Quick post as past day and a half have been incredibly busy. Will have more time for a more complete update tomorrow.

Matilda arrived safe and sound - incredibly wee and full of beans. She's absolutely gorgeous and quite spunky. Murphy is being his usual gentle and patient self, We only had two incidents - one where he quite purposefully stomped on her after she bit his tale, and the other when he accidentally (I think) peed on her while we were out trying the leashes earlier today.

All's well here. Am over the moon in love with them both!!

Memories of My Melancholy Whores

If I had to narrow it down, I would say that Latin authors are my thing. Neruda’s poetry is a staple in my life and Allende and Vargas volumes are old friends who now take residence on my bookshelves with a newly arrived Roberto Bolano alongside my treasured, much loved and dog eared copies of Garcia Marquez classics. All have transported me to places and times far away. Some have invoked rage or indignation others brought me warmth or hope. Universally, I am awed by the talent of these artists and inspired by their ability to communicate, provoke and entertain me.

Reading as much as I do, I’m loathe to admit to just one, but Gabriel Garcia Marquez consistently tops my list of favourite authors. His Love in the Time of Cholera remains one of the best things I’ve read. It was a no brainer then to add his short story, Memories of My Melancholy Whores to my list for this year’s books.

The story goes like this: on his 90th birthday, a bachelor decides to treat himself to a night of wild lovemaking with a virgin. Having done so hundreds of times before, he contacts a local madam to help him with the arrangements. The young girl given to him for the evening, exhausted from her day’s work in a local button factory, falls asleep. He, so enchanted by her as she lays there beside him in bed, finds himself falling in love for the first time in his life.

Beautiful and sad (which is classic Marquez), somewhat disturbing and at times funny, Memories of My Melancholy Whores is an odd and haunting love story. Gabo’s written a wonderful little companion to the classics for which is has been so deservingly awarded and praised. As I knew I would, I loved this book!

The Maytrees

“Love so sprang at her, she honestly thought no one had ever looked into it. Where was it in literature? Someone would have written something. She must not have recognized it. Time to read everything again.”

I love a good love story. It’s a universal theme in our lives. To find love, keep love, overcome love gone wrong and try again. Hopeless romantic that I am, I suspect many others also find that a thoughtful author’s well written love story can evoke feelings like those of past loves and warm our hearts to our own present and future love. In Annie Dillard’s masterful hands, the love between Maytree and Lou pulsates off the page. You can feel their heartache, their joy, their anxiety and bewilderment. Provincetown and their community isn’t just a backdrop for the story, it is as much a character living along side them as Revedere the old moneyed, eccentric and many times married grand lady of the town or bohemian Deary, who’s actions scandalize the community and rock the foundation of Maytree and Lou for years.

Stirring, and thoroughly affecting, The Maytrees is a story that goes by too quickly and which you want to read time and time again, to experience this love once more, enduring and profound.