Little Impressions

She knows. Far too early, much too soon...right now, a breath between now and her 5th birthday, she exclaims matter of factly,

"I have fat legs and a big bum".

I am sad. I don't want her or them, the little ones to know...to know that this world hurls opinions and expectations at women, girls...little girls...about who they should be, and how the puzzle piece of their life fits into this world.

I want to stand between her and the ugliness of conformity- I want to stand on guard as a 37 year old woman who dealt with ridicule and relentless teasing. I want to be armour, I want to be a wall, I want to be shelter. I want to be inpenetrable, because I can wade through the reason and the cause...I can be teflon, and I know where worth lies.

I think about the lessons of growing up different...I think about the challenges of not being the smartest and nowhere on the spectrum of pretty. I think about not having all of the trendy touch stones that somehow qualified worth in those school time years, and I know that nothing material would have appeased my asymmetry to the middle and the norm anyway. I think on my learnings about people and kindness and acceptance and embracing the beauty of nonconformity...and I know that my hard won psuedo wisdom was preserved for moments like this.

The building of a girl is directly related to a blueprint -  and to the character of the women in her life. Her influencers...her models...the ones who live life in front of her, and what they hold important.

To grow a self confident, unapologetic, self accepting game changing little girl, I believe she must have role models who are fearless in their own lives. She must observe on a daily basis, women who are embracing themselves fully...spiritually, emotionally, physically. She must look upward to women who keep trying, keep loving, keep failing, and keep getting up. Her little eyes must watch women who love themselves, her little hands need the assured grasp of the confident, and her little feet must charge into the future in the clear tracks of those who have blazed a clear trail.

Surely she is more. More than her appearance, more than her physical presence. She is smart. She is funny. She is strong, and silly and all things lovable. What she thinks matters. What she feels is real. And all of those things, as a woman who is around her? They MATTER to me. They matter deeply. They matter more than anything else on this earth, because she is the future.

Your mission, should you choose to accept it- is simple:

Keep trying to be the one that shows her how it's done. After all, everything you are, is who she will be in the future.

The Memory Quilt

I have a carefully folded tower of clothing sitting at the whitewashed doorway of my bedroom. It was marked for a second hand shop, after doing a closet purge once upon a time. That leaning tower has sat at the door much longer than I care to admit. Those garments that once covered me and shielded my nakedness for a certain time in life, were nearly destined for a new life in someone else's closet, and a quiet and safe corner of my memories.

Tomorrow morning though, I'm going to make a quilt. I'm not going shopping for remnants of fabric, or brightly coloured, pre-determined and perfectly cut squares. I am going to sew together the memories of my nearly passed on threads, and reposition them in my life. Those fibres after all, hold as much sentiment and reminiscence as any round edged memory. Seams may be frayed, and brilliance of colour may have faded through wear, love, and time, but the breadth of their value to me in those past moments cannot be measured. They, for a time, were a part of me.

There was a swirling September night when the the covering of innocence tore- and the world forever changed for my dearly kindred friend...and a family I love very deeply. The rawness stripped like the edge of an unguarded blade... the world was quieted and shouting all at once. The silence felt deafening, and the noise seemed sharply numbing. For a long time, those memories have served as a reminder...a blanket if you will, of just how quickly it can all change...the "it" being everything that is, and everything that life seemed to be headed towards.

That canopy came off. That shelter from the elements of this world seemingly blew away while the world slept. The less familiar our world became and becomes 17 years later, the more I try to piece together the remaining precious, dearly loved, closely worn memories of a boy who was incredible. Incredibly funny. Incredibly smart. So incredibly special... inextinguishable, and insurmountably loved.

The piecing together of what still remains physically here, feels right. My foot bears a tattoo memory of a childhood friend who left this world much too early. I took her hand written, left handed message in my grade 8 autograph book, and inked it on top of every right foot step in my life.  I finally feel like she's really with me now that I can look down and see her name everyday. That outside marking of the 15 year old girl I carry in my heart, somehow acts as a small patch of mental fabric when it comes to the protection of my memories of her.

 I'll carefully piece a dear friends faded, blue checked American Eagle shirt into my quilt- right down to the buttons, wrist cuffs and the label. My grandma's paisley kerchief will find its spot amongst the less sentimental pieces, and a pale green sweatshirt sent to me a lifetime and a heartbreak ago..they'll all become a part of my hopeful masterpiece.

The combined value of each memory stamped garment, will contribute to a covering of recognition, gratitude, and peace. After all, those I love are still very much with me...and what's left now still has the very real ability to warm me and speak softly alongside my listening heart,

 "We're all around you. We'll hold shelter over you. Always".

Signal Your Intent

Roundabouts are quite new to Canada. They don't put me off or confuse me as I have spent considerable time in countries that use them on their roadways as a way of keeping traffic moving, and eliminating stop lights.

The newest roundabout has just opened in my city, and it's the biggest one in the area. Upon approach, there is a flashing sign for the newbies:

SIGNAL YOUR INTENT

I read it, and clearly knew what it meant- but somehow, it spoke to me on another level.

Instead of driving forward in life, at a speed sometimes too accelerated...with inertia directing at its whim, maybe life is more intentional and more focused if, we signal our intent.

I sometimes feel adrift...dizzy with the pace of life, but seemingly without a determined destination. The "getting there" is less important than the "getting through." I feel sometimes like there is a revolving door that I'm stuck in, and somehow, I am always being tossed out at the beginning of the next school year, or the next first snowfall. Except...it's another year later, the landscape of my life is morphed into a hybrid of the year before...and the year before that...and so on.

I've always found that writing things down makes things come alive. It brings my lifes dreams out of that fairy land of wispy make belief into tangible, attainable, in my face realities. Those times that I have signaled my intent have been the most rewarding, concrete and measurable seasons of being on this human journey.

I dream of living far away, and have for a long time...I've been afraid to write it down. Writing it down has meant that I am accountable. Now, today in fact, a dear friend has returned home to Australia after a year of great adventure here in my beautiful Canada, and another kindred friend will step into a new life in 12 days as she hops across the pond to England. I love and admire their bravery- and I hope someday to be in their shoes. So, I am writing it here...for me, and for you, and for the world to take notice of...Hey, I want to move somewhere new and exciting. Someday...tomorrow, next week, next year...20 years from now. I am signaling my intent...I am letting the universe know it has a job to do.

Maybe think about it. Writing down the things in your life that your heart wants. It teaches you so much..it's a beautiful and fragile expression of honesty between you and destiny.

xo

We Are...

 
It quietly, and stoically stands. It's dignified, strong, and confident. It doesn't draw unnecessary attention to itself - but it will be celebrated...by me, by we - those far away, and those safely within the borders - we will think of all it is to be Canadian.


It's Wheat Kings, and pretty things.
It's skyscraper sized white icebergs drifting in the North Atlantic.
It's small towns and big cities, the corner store, and the CN Tower.
It's mountain air, and campfires...stargazing and satellite spotting over a Great Lake.
It's a hybrid North American- less fearful, more self assured.

It's a blazing red maple leaf in October.
It's poutine in Montreal.
It's a quiet and brash government- from Chretien to Trudeau.
It's standing on the top of Grouse Mountain- and looking out over tree tops to a twinkling Vancouver.


We are First Nations and the Quebecois, cowboys and fishermen.
We are a society of the unarmed...and the disarming.
We are the Tim Horton's nation- double double loving, maple dip ordering, and "keep the change" kind of folks.
We are Thank You and Sorry, we are You're Welcome, and No Problem.
We are clothes sunning and bleaching on a line between July and September.


We are hockey lovers with hope- every season...every year, on the asphalt or an arena.
We are Yonge St. and Robson St. and George St. and Rue St. Catherine.
We are an Okanagan vineyard, and Molson Canadian, and Mill St.Organic Beer.
We are The Hudson's Bay Company's blue, yellow, red and green stripes... 1670 to now.
We are the mosaic- and you are welcome to live here.

We believe that rights are streamlined- from gay marriage to health care.
We believe in music- from dive bar indy cover bands, to a lesbian prairie girl with the voice of an angel.
We believe in Christian values...and Buddhist values...and Muslim values, and Be a Good Person values.
We believe in a greater connection- and that if we can just take care of each other- we'll all be good.
We believe in our own contribution to the world- without attitude..but also without apology.

Ask me what I am proudest of being- and there could be so many answers I boomerang back to you. But now, at this time of year, where we swell with the pride of being in this corner of the world...and belonging here, I will tell you,

                                                                I. AM. CANADIAN.

 

Recharge

My phone battery is always depleting at a very rapid rate.

 It's annoying.

 I can unplug it in the morning before swinging at the day, and usually by mid afternoon it needs a plug in. All of those things running in the background- apps, programs....they're slowly and silently draining it's ability to perform.

We are the same. I am the same. A billion obligations, commitments, stresses and ways we're stretched beyond our personal limits...and the next thing we know...we are running close to the red line of empty.

Figuring life out is an interesting project. Committing to happiness and completeness and peace isn't popular, because, after all, we are supposed to be living up to "her" trip to Italy, and "his" new shiny car..."their" monster house, that strangers beautiful....whatever. Whatever it is...we're focusing on the highlight reel of others lives, and benchmarking our humdrum everyday against it. And as we whip around quickly, and catch a glimpse of our life right now...it's just not good enough. So we try...and we diminish...and we run out.

I was in BC last October...I went to Whistler on my own and had 36 hours of quiet. It wasn't what I thought it would be. I enjoyed the moments of "doing"...and cringed at the moments of trying to turn my mind off. I had nowhere to be...I was at the base of the most beautiful mountains in the world on a glorious Fall day...and I felt like I had to get going. I had to keep moving, keep busy...and get out of there. The thought of being still and soaking it all  in...it felt wrong and entirely too indulgent. So I forced myself to sit cross legged in a daffodil yellow Muskoka chair...and to breathe. To absorb. To be present in the warmth of the sunshine....and unapologetic about the choice. The apology felt like it should be from me...to me.

Jenn, I'm sorry for polluting your mind with a loop of inadequacy and sadness. Jenn, I am sorry for stretching you to accept those moments of untruth to yourself and your future. Jenn, I promise I will be kinder, more real and less critical. I promise that if you wouldn't say it to someone you love...that I'll try not to say it to you.

Shut off the background. be fully charged, and do things that increase energy. Be surrounded by people who feed positivity and vision. Create. Love. Don't let others tap into the energy without permission.

Be here. Fully. Because any other way is a disservice.

I Won't Apologize...

When the world feels heavy, or maybe human frailty is just a little more top of mind, I am reminded of the things that I know to be true.

In times of feeling inadequate, or questioned, or scrutinized, I love a perfectly placed reminder of each persons beauty and unique contribution to this planet. Sometimes, the reminders to be true to yourself propel you into the honesty of your being...and you make a list of things you're not going to apologize for.

This is mine.

1. I won't apologize for being kind. Some see it as weakness, some see it as a fault... I don't care- I choose to be kind whenever possible.
2. I won't apologize for loving all things girly- I love makeup and clothes and laughing at inside jokes with my friends, and singing into a hairbrush, and taking goofy pictures. I love smelling good, and getting my nails done. I'll never be a tomboy, sporty, competitive chick...and I like that about me.
3. I won't apologize for moving forward. I've long ago learned, that mulling over the past just steals precious moments from my present and future. So, if it's not working, or has stopped serving my happiness...I step forward, and don't look back.
4. I won't apologize for being a slow runner. So many people have asked me about my time, or my process when I run. I'll never be a competitive runner because I do it for me.
5. I won't apologize for telling people to mind their own business, or to treat me with respect.
6. I won't apologize for loving my family, and spending a lot of time with them. They are my world.
7. I won't apologize for being single. It's not a disease- it's a time in my life.
8. I won't apologize for having wanderlust. I love this world...and not seeing it isn't an option. Maybe that makes me less settled than most...maybe it makes me less rooted...or maybe it leaves me open to opportunity and adventure.
9. I won't ever apologize for being an average sized woman. I refuse to buy into the media's insistance that I need to be emaciated and ripped. I accept the body I live in...it's an amazing place. When I treat it with respect, I feel even better...and that's part of my process in life.
10. I won't apologize for trying to kill my inner cynic. It's hard work to look at a world where children are shot, bombs go off at a marathon and people celebrate the shortcomings of others. To remain optimistic and positive is essential to a fulfilling life. I could hate this world. I could live in fear. I could- but I won't.
11. I won't apologize for being true to my convictions, and 100% steadfast in what I believe. I believe in God, I believe in justice, I believe in mercy. I believe I know a mere shred of His goodness and plans for me. I believe that trusting Him is the best way to live my life.
12. I won't apologize for choosing to travel through life by way of happiness and peace. Life isn't controllable, and it's so impermanent- so I choose. I choose to be happy at all costs.
13. I won't apologize for seeking authenticity. Living life on the surface serves no one. I seek real people to surround myself with...brilliant, flawed and honest. Those who are journeying fearlessly through life...I like to think those are my people.

What's on your list?

xx

3 Years Later

Dear Michael~

It's time again. It's time to put my mind in reverse, and to remember when you left us.

It's everso different this year. I am sure every year will have it's own imprint- it will be unique and singular. So much is learned in 365 days....or 730 days...or 1095 days...1 year, 2 years....3 whole years.

 We'd be different people if you had stayed...we'd be closer to 40 than 30, you would have hopefully, finally, ridden yourself of that flip phone- you'd be nearly 3 years employed at a job I know you loved. Things would be different....we- would be different.

The world is different now, you know. Things seem to be speeding up. The lessons I've learned about slowing down and being present in each precious moment likely wouldn't have been absorbed or observed as deeply had you stayed. It all matters- the people, the moments...the little ones who are learning everyday...it's all out in front of me, and us...

the left behind.

I've learned to live with no answers. I've learned to embrace the "why" like a close friend. I've learned to live with grief, and to accept its companionship at moments expected, and those when I am shocked at my frailty. A sound, a smell...cigarette smoke hanging in the air...the you and me conversations that I replay like a favourite song.

I accept the man you were. I accept how you lived your life and did what you could to become emancipated from the demons. I accept the neverending efforts you threw out to the universe in hopes of being a game changer. I accept your absolute brokeness and rebuilding into a beautifully flawed, charismatic, complex man. I accept that you did what you could, with what you had...where you were, in those moments of choice. I accept the "why" as my friend...and I love you, stored away safe, in a guarded, warm and inpenetrable part of my heart and my life.

The scar is evident. I don't escape you. I try to be free from the memories...I try to forget, and to say I don't care. I say I can't care. I hold myself now to the benchmark of my limits, and not who I think you were trying to be. Perhaps there are those of us who have tried to impact the world in the Michael way...because we don't want to let you go. This year has taught me that it's time...to let the Michael signature be honoured for where it is....3 years ago. And that's okay- moving forward isn't a forgetting as I have fought against...it's just an admission that the fight to keep you here is done.

I don't speak for the we...I speak for me...and I say with tears..

be free my friend.

Be out there behind us...like a silent but ever present shadow. Be ahead of us, reminding us of what this life really is about.

You'll always be my Mikey...and I'll always be your Jenn with 2 n's.

xo