Shifting Paradigms

If you judge people you have no time to love them.

 

Mother Teresa

 

 

Classes began this week with bright eyed, dreary eyed, and those blinded with boredom entering our domain. After the introduction, course outline, viewing a short clip from 'Ferries Bueller's Day Off '- skipping techniques, sadly going over most of their heads, except one bright light that asked if she could use this, I said if the modus operandi works, try it. It would be unfair to admit that the lower level classes are a struggle for me, emotionally, physically, and intellectually. I asked each student to introduce themselves with one new piece of information that we might not know about them.  

After the third Filipino student stating that they were from the Philippians, it took everything morsel of my being not to send metaphors, after verbal ironies into the air waves.

 

I walked to the back of the class, shook the deleterious mindset, and decided to seriously question every students words, watching how the class reacted. Their responses soared with each query, they were holding the conch, at the helm of the ship they saw a captivated audience, moving from anxiousness to commanding mastery in seconds, shifting the paradigm of a classroom.

 

'Walk Humbly with the Lord' posted in my room keeps my pride aligned daily, to see the miracles, I call potential in all students. It seems to take them longer each year to find themselves, truly comprehend who they are in Christ. Rid the adverse affects of what society has allowed them to believe they are worth. Many enter with a metaphorical percentages of their self worth stamped to their forehead, others wounds of home life, bullying, and the torment of insults.

 

Prayer commences each class, again too many students think it is for them, it is for God to seep into our lives for an hour and show his glory, his compassionate love for each one of us. My student learn early on that literacy is Christ's mode of entry, for they will never remember me, yet I pray they will remember those around them that have changed their lives.

 

There is rarely a day that something profound doesn't occur. When our eyes, and hearts are open to see his miracles, we are his instruments and should celebrate. As Ferries stated -  life goes by pretty fast, if you don't stop and look around you'll miss it.

 

 

 

It is not how much we do

but how much love we put into doing them

It is not how much we give

but how much love we put into giving.

 

Mother Teresa

Reflection

Ghandi watches me daily observing my daily reflections, comparing his diligence to mine. Have I done better today than yesterday, grown closer to Christ, grown stronger as a person for man kind, or reverted to my complacency. Ah! this too often feeds my soul, especially as I age, my strength of youth hood wanes. My judgement wanes too or is indifferent, for the energy to fight the good fight as it lingers in memories. The defences are few, justification flood my mind, only my moral conviction stops me short of blaming another for my weakness. How is it this occurs, it didn't happen over night, but now that I am so conscious I fight like a drowning victim for dry land.

Potential

 

Mid-afternoon our living room is flooded with sunlight illuminating an acrylic painting splashingmintgreen, apple red, orange, sunflower yellow, sky blues, and birch trees as the day awaits my intentions.The luxury of having a moments to reflect, look out onto the horizon and dream. With the world waging wars seemingly so far off, this is where rejuvenation occurs amongst collected thoughts, steeped in my gratitude for what I have been provided. It seems illogical that this existence

of simplicity, is so spiritually rich. God has provided so graciously for our family. Mother nature blessed us this morning snowing lightly as our feet trudged up mountain paths filling our lungs with new blueprints that will not leave an imprint when we are gone.

An Indian comedian spoke about that if all human slept an hour longer each day, it would substantially decrease the destruction of our earth. I have held onto his words for decades rising simply to observe my breath, my thoughts, and my surrounding. Nature has nourished me since birth, blessed with parents who brought it into our existence daily. Design is innate, I think in tessellations , contours, prisms hoping to find opportunity to expose students their creativity through these mediums, along with a healthy dose of music, which abundantly teaches us all.

Water lilies exposed themselves to me at three with scents, blossoms, patterns, reflections, surface tension in their floating leaves, now that was magic. Nature has continued to mesmerize my soul. Loving the fact that most will never know I've walked, hiked, climbed in front of or behind thousands as I try to leave no mark.

With a society that is so keen to explore the unknown, seek the unheard, and taste the bazaar, if we could all do this knowing what ever we created couldn't have a large impact for the many generations to come, perhaps those are who should be receiving the Nobel Peace Awards. I recall our first microwave and the hundreds that ended up in the dump......now think of all the technology in the last 20 years, how much have we thrown out so easily never thinking about the impact of mother earth, how much can she absorb, decay, and break-up, now create similar technologies without the path, that is worthy. What is the future of the water lilies?

The Gift of Receiving

The idea of receiving a gift seems almost unnatural. I have always told family and friends, that it isn't necessary, most occasions are off limit to giving me a gift. Their company is always more than enough.
Last night a friend came over for dinner and brought me a box of chocolates. I believe it was my first box of chocolates wrapped beautifully for Valentines, even in January, and I was taken aback. Design is my second nature and this box was uniquely wrapped with ribbons, stickers and even a tote bag, my heart fluttered yet there was an unknown, a lack of certainty, control.
Perhaps it was more a lesson than anything, in my humbleness to never need anything I was losing out of the ability to receive. To allow others to give. Many of us love to see our friends and family members light up when we've bought them something. Knowing it was exactly what they wanted, or knowing it was unexpected and they truly needed a boost that very day. While feeing joyous, I immediately sensed a hollowness in my years of not being able to receive. I had unknowingly rejected, and undervalued people when I had refused gifts, for decades. I sensed my husband looking over my way as I tucked the gift away smiling. He had tried so many times to give me something of his desires, and I had insisted that I didn't need him spending hard earned money on me, how I had failed to see his love language and his yearning to do something special for me. It didn't strike me until last night that in all the gifts I'd given, if people had forbidden me, I would have been devastated. I was robbing people of the exact sensation I loved in giving.

The selfishness of my independence, is as far away from Christ wishes for us to be in relations with others. My need to be in control, to think less of others than myself and not sanction myself to be vulnerable to someone else, that cared enough to share a gift with me, was sinful.
The gift was truly not as important as the gesture that was acted upon. Relationships deepen when we receive without judgement, and blithering excuses, that destroy joy. Sounds odd yet it took us time to eventually open the box and savor every morsel of salted caramel cashews drenched in dark chocolate.

The lesson she taught me was invaluable, there is a maturity, humility and appreciation in receiving. I needed to linger in that moment and allow the giver to cherish their moments too. The giver receives as much benefit from the gift as the receiver, an internal bliss. From this day forth my efforts will commence to receive graciously.

Our society is funny, when I compliment colleagues, women often tell me that the item is old, cheap or not in fashion. I'm always struck at how others struggle with compliments as much as I do. Perhaps in our desperation to be independent, which is truly a North American thing, we are distancing ourselves from one another's blessings.

When the rare and unexpected happens leap for joy and relish in the moment. I've read that euphoric sensation we feel does wonders for our entire body, from blood, to nerves, to organs. It springs forth juices of wellness that satiates, and coats the body in dopamine, serotonin, oxytocin and endorphins warding off illness while proving delicious nourishment for our cells. How often have you every heard of anyone practising that butterfly feeling we get. It usually last 5-10 seconds yet with practise you can stretch it out to minutes. The next time someone asks if you've exercising, tell them your bringing forth happiness.

“Gracious acceptance is an art - an art which most never bother to cultivate. We think that we have to learn how to give, but we forget about accepting things, which can be much harder than giving.... Accepting another person's gift is allowing him to express his feelings for you.” 
― Alexander McCall Smith, Love Over Scotland

Goodness

The simplicity of the word "goodness" often eludes us as we search for bigger accolades in honoring those so deserving. As our society stretches to find new cliché we often lose the essence of humility. When travelling through Africa the most profound statement I heard from an elderly gentlemen strolling along a sandy Sunday afternoon was, "The saddest time in a man's life is when he doesn't need a neighbor." The statement has punctured my soul deeper each day as we strive so desperately in our western cultures to prove our worth. Yet, we live in a society riddled with depression, loneliness, and suicide by many wanting approval, for their existence. I observed hundreds of children in Africa with absolutely no possessions but the cloths on their backs. I found profound depth and goodness in them, it was I that so longed for them to come home to Canada and show us pure joy, laughter, forgiveness, hope, appreciation, gratitude and humanity. I'd been sent there to collaborate with teachers and administrators and within days I was brought to tears by their ingenuity, genuine care for their colleagues, I knew I would never look at life the same.

In our race to compete in every aspects of our lives we've lost the earnest ability to see one another's humanness. Our desire to be loved for who we are doesn't seem enough. Many are more concerned with a list of letters, awards, abilities, honors, and even praises. What happened to goodness, pure goodness,

Tomorrow look into the crowd and honor each person for their goodness, that you may or may not see, but in all of us we are seeded with love, and if allowed to flourish it will bloom. It's a state of mind that we choose each day to reside in, even in the complexity of our lives. When we search for goodness it is ever present in each and every moment. See it in all people you meet and it will come alive.

Hope

Peter might not have believed it was possible to have hope for an alternate path. He followed with many doubts keeping focused, with constant prompts heaving his life into the storm only to have it saved again and again and again.

Today with the knowledge we have, his wisdom, evidence, we continuously falter in our faith, looking to this world for answer that will never come. I explain to my students that throughout our lives if we keep his word, prayer, fellowship, and holy spirit in the center of our focus we will fall, and he will be there with arms open to catch our bodies, tears, minds and souls. Difficult as it might be, the sooner we learn that this world will never satiate us, the sooner we learn to be enveloped by his love that is completely unsurpassed.

My grade 12's are reading "Night" and I'm humbled by every word, every deed a human race can be moved to preserve their minds, their souls, and their existence. How can one have hope knowing in the end you will die, or is that the simple task having hope because you know?

I am challenging my students to form a chart that will allow them to learn about their culture, who is the dominant country, people and their purpose in crushing another race and for what cause? They are becoming aware, terrified, that as humans we are still doing this to one another with few positive results. So why haven't we learned from our predecessors? Oh! we have, we just turn a blind eye claiming our agenda is above those of the past. Is that why Putin was allowed to host the Olympics and then invade Ukraine, Trump spews hatred yetis revered by millions, Isis kills tens in France and still exists, an endless list ensues.

Hope, it allows us to rise each day knowing 90% of the world does believe in goodness, even when we cut one another off racing out of the church parking lot and curse, whilst the rosary hangs from our rear view mirror. We are humans and everyday we need to remind ourselves, pinch ourselves, that in this wild wonderland we call earth, there is a deep purpose for hope to exist.

It allows us to see past our present reality,  into a realm unworldly, unfathomable to most, but not you. It brings a plan, a method to our value and worth. If we look for blessings they appear minute by minute, if our hearts are open to them, we are flooded, in our patience there is abundance. Help one another in gratitude, respect and treat others are you would like to be treated. That is hope.

Pause ---for light thought

Blame my father for illuminating the morning skies, saffron sails billowing intense blood orange/fuscia with hints of indigo momentarily captured in real time. Light, a moment that eludes most of us that rise daily, work on our minds, missing the brilliance of God's creation for us. Our five senses have a new years resolution for you.....to use them. Crunching of snow beneath the tires. Lift of a backyard bird pleading for a mate, neighbors coffee wafting across hedges, hands forming snowballs, drinking cold mountain fed waters, and frosted willows begging to be photographed.

Living room perched watching clouds configure, deconstruct, compose sweeping melodies, is grace I'll never take for granted. Minutes pass admiring the aqua marine ebb and flow onto the stage expanding, enveloping my frame deepening my breath to know this might be my last. Blinding light forces sheer curtains to only transmit Christmas lights in minute bursts of white light moving through a prism.

Luxury, a selfish entity that I cherish yearning so deeply to envelop into my being.

The late afternoon pillows grey slate gently rolling over coral palates seeping opal hues at the ends
bringing warmth after a satisfying ski day taking the last run with the ski guides looking into the sky yearning to trap that essence into a bottle. Now you can, that fleeting moment of wonder bubbling up can be reproduced for health, spiritual wealth, and clarity of the moment. Rein act your first kitten, first bike ride, holding someone's hand, kissing, knowing someone loves you....pause....and bring those sensations forth, daily, they ignite our endorphins, spark oxygen within lasting infinitely in our minds. Absorb the senses this world offers daily, in the midst of plights, take note, and rejuvenate.

Love beyond....

 

Today at work I was pushed beyond boundaries I hadn't experienced before. Staff becoming petty with one another leaving me exhausted emotionally, physically, and unwilling to go to the distance.

God's always given me strength to reach out, and when they came calling after several bouts of stupidity I assisted naturally then recoiled, realizing that it is in the wisdom of experience that their is no "I" in team. Teaching others to come forward is rarely easily, yet necessary for building capacity.

I crawled into my car feeling overwhelmed and defeated and turned my thoughts inwards. I slowly unwound yet not enough to not tell my husband, and together we sat in prayer. What allowed me to truly know I was off, was the lack of beauty I saw on route home. Travelling past Nose Hills strewn with deer grazing on the southern slopes, grasping the last warmth of sunlight while peering sporadically for preying foxes and coyotes. Blowing grass fluttering in the light breeze catching the hues of light washing over the hillside blesses my eyes and soul daily. And the fact I was so focused on other's driving was a telltale sign.

When I lifted it to God he placed it in the right compartment and priority. I am truly amazed after all these years with God, how human I am, and his wondrous capacity to deal with our issues, when and if we allow him into our hearts, souls, and agendas. He graciously transforms us. I'm humbled to tears often by God's creation in nature, rejuvenation of my being begins here. May I always be drawn near to him here.

Tough Love

 My husband and I have had so many discussions about our son's room that I can't recall if we have ever precipitated debate about anything else.

I believe in being firm, fair and friendly, yet with your own kids or my step kids or adults that is difficult. I've been called a dictator once and that hurt. I've learned a lesson or two over the years, that I might never get the gushy love that I might have thought I'd receive from them, but I do believe behind the tears of manipulation that have been present they respect me. I have never waivered from my stance. Tears have held strong for hours and I have said nothing but been there and eventually they have asked if it still holds true and the answer has always been yes. I expect a clean room of someone in their 20's, heck I expected that at 12 year old, along with doing the dishes, laundry and cleaning the bathroom.
What has floored me is the lack of gratitude, or perceived gratitude and even more importantly to watch their father have to ask them again and again. He has given his life for these kids and he would continue allowing them to wrap him around their finger.
They are polite, yes, but we have enough polite people in the world, let's make accountable men, that I never have to say I've enabled.
I don't expect perfection, I expect effort, and someone that offers to do something without asking, that I don't believe has occurred yet. I feel more saddened by this than anything.
I feel that I have failed to demonstrate the myriad of times their father and I offer to assist with all aspects of the household. They have had role models forever, but that doesn't seem to matter.
When I feel that I am not working harder than my kids at doing their work, success will be had. I wish them love, luck and diligence, for in the real world, second chances come to those that succeed.

French Cuisine

 

The chinking of the glasses says far more of friendship than any morsel touching our lips, but once it had love resonated on our palates.
I left for France when I was 24 and had no idea I would fall in love the land, it's people, it's wine and food.
I landed in Bordeaux by sheer accident. I'd met Gary in Quiberon, Brittany and learned that they needed any hand to pick grapes. For 4 grueling days I ventured along the coastal route on my bike as fast as my legs would peddle, while Gary followed by train. One night in a lighthouse youth hostel, a group of young designers were meeting to celebrate their friends wedding anniversary and being the only other resident invited me to join them.

Lavish colors, fabrics, textures and designed painted the palate of the clothing, intricate necklines, lace adorned each garment. I revelled in their schooling wishing to attend. It was here that I knew my love for design was ignited. With a father as an architect, design was in my blood, he'd taken me to myriads of cathedrals, mosques, temples, castles, designed my own clothing, and tasted some of the world's best food, and sat and watched and calmness of the sun sinking into the ocean.
Leonel, the manager of the vineyard wasn't happy with my late arrival and rather aluff at my lack of working permit. I heaved my bike off the tiny boat that separated, the Isle de Chateau de Margeaux, a tiny island spanning 1 km. long and 500 meters square, and the mainland, a mere 150 feet away. I'd read a book on route and been so disillusioned by the horrid conditions they described, no showers, no food, short breaks, long hours, and low pay, why would I endure this agony. I was on holidays, I didn't need the money. My thought was, if they fire me, well I'll continue into the Pyrenees and Spain.

Catherine Lavoire stood opposite me, with a boyish smile, hidden from the vines that reached head height with the grapes situated waste height. The first lunch break I had no idea what to do, they had already been working for 1 day when I arrived. Leonel invited us into the shed where they repaired the trucks. I was astonished, a u-shaped table set for 25 people. When Marie, his wife served up some salad, I wafted it down twice the speed of anyone there, and took doubles when she offered. If this was my only meal, lettuce, it better be good. I'd already missed breakfast and how was I to get dinner stuck on an island. Then as my plate was cleared she served soup, that too, I took 2 servings. Just when my eyes were adjusting she brought out our entrée, plus a fruit and cheese platter and then dessert. I rolled out of the garage and landed at the bottom of an apple tree. I passed out within seconds, not having drank much prior to this, the glass of wine I had a lunch did me in. When the bell rang to commence work, I was two sheets to the wind, dreaming of crème brulee, tart au pomme, and poison gratine.

After 14 days the rains came and we needed to take a small break. Francois de Mecquenem, Leonel cousin asked if I'd like to see the ocean. En route he stopped along the Gironde pulled up to a man shucking oysters took out his "Laguiole" a folding knife and handed me oysters in lemon juice. He was smitten....

The rain started pounding down as the evening approached and we ended back at his parents home just outside of Bordeaux on a tiny acreage. They were concert pianist and accountants and I looked like a drowned rat as they served up soup, salad and an entre of poison fuille. We discussed religion, politics and the plight of France, every possible topics you should never discuss. I was in heaven, as polities wasn't in my blood. His mother picked up that I wasn't conjugating my verb correctly, how French.

His mother had baguettes delivered every morning, like my mom had milk,  flooding my childhood memories of the smallness of life. The comforts that I had running to the milk shoot and checking to see if it was there, or peering out the window searching up and down the street for the milk truck. The thought of plastic, or cardboard milk containers lacks romance, lacks authenticity, and mostly lacks a sense of connection to nature.

Days after, back on the vineyard the French workers sang songs from wars gone by, even kids as young as 18, and we'd listen, smile, and admire how truly bonded they were as a country. Then someone would find a cluster of white grapes as hands clamoured over the vines to taste the succulent sweet miracles that appeared in a pinot noir vineyard.

As I observed the men and women of France, they had a collective gratitude for the smallest of conversation. Yes, they worked for money, yet their livelihood was about relationships that nourished their souls during the day, especially around a meal, and walking back to their cars, they were never short for words of encouragement.

Love in the time of Cholera

How quickly we forget that 3/4 of the world living in refugee camps, slums and overcrowded environments are exposed  again and again to this infectious disease. Clean water that we take so readily, is unattainable to over half of the world's population. Water, a natural resource that's abundant for so few, takes lives of so many daily.

It is more than mere water that has stopped our planet from living as one. The infectious disease has more to do with our hearts than the small intestine. It is our ease at which we turn a blind eye to those out of sight, out of mind. If each one of us was faced with someone in our home, in our workplace, in our church, or soccer team facing life and death, compassion would reign over consumption. People were created to be love, things were created to be used, why are so many people loving things and using people. The unsurpassed satiation for inanimate object will never fill our souls, yet day after day, China and other developing countries are paying workers far too little to make far too many polymers for western ingestion. Injecting no hope, love, joy or peace into their lives, yet they have been brainwashed to believe wealth comes from outside of themselves instead of inside.  

The next time someone asks if you are caring for someone, say yes, our human planet. Share your tremendous wealth with those that can't, give until it hurts and then ask God how to give more. Lean on one another for support, God intended this to happen, he left part of our heart empty to be filled by relationships. He made sure no human was gifted abundantly so we would have to work collaboratively, like a colorful woven tapestry.


 

Living it live

Stupefied or sycophantic that 90% of us want peace in the world, perhaps 100% do, yet some have been brainwashed to believe that security in a host of resources will enrapture their soul. As Catholics I've had my share of criticism from friends and foe misguided, ignorant about what Christ is. The way we look at it, is simple. If I'm wrong and I've spent a lifetime trying to serve God and through that the immediate community I live in, my family, friends, and all those I encounter, what have I lost, nothing.....But if they are wrong, eternity in damnation is infinite. Long ago I learned to grasp the best in people, try not to gossip, as peace resides in those that don't, follow Pope Francis first rule, stop using Facebook for gossip, which after numerous inquiries would shut down 90% of users from blethering, find rejuvenation in nature, and learn to listen, for those that do instill perspicacity.

Roots

          

Stabs of anger linger, then recoil and strike for my desire to comprehend why as humans we haven't captured the quintessence of how to live harmoniously. My addiction to Burma began when my father lived/worked in Rangoon in the 50's. I have studied their countries history for 20 years, admitting ignorance yet always yearning an opportunity to lose my soul in a country so plagued by corruption that I have given up hope. Yet in the same breath I have renewed my drive to speak to the myriad of generals and military men that have slaughtered their own people and ask why? Have their lives gained such wealth by doing so? I have read not, and yet for 60 years this country has been mired with minority groups undermined and petulant attacks of its own people that even the 1988 student uprising was punctured with abscesses.

I can't imagine an entire people to be flummoxed, they are well educated and have suffered so much, why persist? Not a country that exists is not choked with historical regret, but to continue on knowing there is an alternative, and yes I realized many countries other than Burma are living with ambient animosity. Can it be so simple as greed and power? Can a human master serpentine ingenuity knowing the truth exists. It is solely a matter of survival, what about the millions of people that have lived through this. I am sickened by my sense of entitlement, living in Canada, just by sheer luck, while someone else, has been born into a country, with no means of escaping, has to subsists with little hope of change.

In the Beginning

A new year is upon us and with it comes 

A recipe for Love

Each one of us comes into this world developing values, beliefs and for most we are lured to a passion. One of mine is righteousness, it began early in life, as my parents exposed me to far too many scenes, and episodes through novels, films, and travel of those that didn't get the chance to experience truths. Thus,according to my husband, I am overly conscious of trying to right the wrongs of the world, I like to think of it as simply acknowledging reality. Lest to say beyond the human condition, sin, the secular rule, I have never understood why we haven't captured, bottled, and sold peace. There are many that have succeeded at a particular cause, U Thant, Leca Walesa, Thich Naht Hanh, Betty Williams, Malala Yousafzai, and Sri Chinmoy, I am speaking of living for peace alone.

Today our priest compared abortions to what Harod was doing in Galilei by slaughtering all babes under the age of 2, and how both justified their killings for their own purpose, their own lifestyle, agenda and comfort. What if at birth we were brought into a community, as they say - it takes a village to raise a child - and early participated in a communal responsibility to care for others. Recognizing self worth through kinship, kindness, not the latest shade of lipstick. Schools have sought to teach academia at the expense of teaching connections, at a great loss to the individual and community. Western culture idealizes independence while suicide rates sore regardless of age, gender, race and financial eminence. Africans have a saying - the saddest day in a man's life is when he thinks he can do it on his own, for they know the value of relationship. God made us empty to seek him and to rely on one another, this was a plan, not some fictitious dream. Why have we tunneled our vision to only the eye of the needle, instead of dreaming, illuminating a prism beyond this world, to an unknown so wild, so feral, not even our frenetic thoughts can glimpse at its realm.

Today we begin our journey to the other side....We begin a germ of solidarity, rich loam of ignorance with a visceral sense of purpose, taking on this mission indubitably yet assiduously.