This:
This is where I am now -
where I'm meant to be -
traveling a new road;
happy to be free.
This is what I sing now,
though the tune is new -
listen to the lyrics -
surely they'll ring true.
This is what I feel now -
how I always did.
Tears of pain and joy flow;
tears that I once hid.
This is who I am now -
who I've always been.
If you had been watching,
this you would have seen.
This is what I hope now;
that you'll simply see -
circumstances change - still
I'm the same old me.
This is what I love now -
no - that's not quite true.
When it comes to love, well -
it's never what, but who.
Now I love you better -
this you must believe.
All the love that fills me -
this will never leave.
Join me in this chorus:
Nothing is amiss -
all that really matters
is this, and this - and this.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, November 27, 2016
My next bit of written communication, after this post is finished and up, is writing the annual family newsletter. As I sit and contemplate my new life in a big old house in a very small town, I am amazed by how many circumstances in my life have changed.
My life is very quiet now, and in some ways a lot less structured than it used to be. I don't go to a gym three times a week anymore - it seems like too much trouble to be hitching a ride to the next town when my treadmill is set up in a lovely sun room, and most days I have the option of doing the "clean your house workout" or working on one of many fairly labour intensive home improvement projects that we have on the go. Whether I choose to strip wallpaper, pull up carpets, wash walls with TSP or get caught up on laundry depends on a whole variety of factors. Some days I go non-stop, and others I may only mosey as far as the local library and spend way too much time reading and dreaming on one of our comfy couches. I'm learning the importance of self-regulation now - as I have to consider what must be done when and establish priorities. This is something my life was lacking before, and evidence that I'm where I'm supposed to be.
My quiet days are teaching me to be ready to seize opportunities for socialization when they present themselves - even when I need to step outside my comfort zone to do so. It's a tough challenge for me, but necessary. This is something I need.
My town is very small. It consists of:
1) A post office
2) A cafe - open weekdays from morning until mid-afternoon.
3) A convenience store/gas station, which sells mostly snacks, and at any given time has a few loaves of bread and gallons of milk for sale.
4) A library - open roughly three times a week at somewhat odd hours
5) A Rona - smallest one you've ever seen, but it's there.
6) A computer store
7) An accountant's office, which never seems to be open.
8) An outdoor community pool
9) A community center - surprisingly large!
10) A volunteer fire department
The lack of amenities that I used to take for granted has forced me to be more organized, resourceful and waste-conscious. Leftovers must be promptly eaten. Trips to the next town for grocery items must be minimized. I'm proud of the progress that I'm making in these areas - and grateful for this opportunity to improve my organizational skills. This is where I'm supposed to be.
That huge community center gets used. It's the hub of the community, and this is a community in every sense of the word. People smile, wave, and greet each other on the street. People here look out for each other. The man who mows our lawn keeps me supplied with farm fresh eggs. The woman across the street says, "Stop by some time for a cup of tea." We run into neighbours in the post office and the hardware store and we stop and chat. They offer their time and their tools to help us with our projects. This is the kind of community that I want to be part of.
My house is an ongoing project. I wake up in the morning excited to call it home. I've lived here three months and still find odd little details that thrill me - like lovely old hinges on doors and little discrepancies in the ornate woodwork that show how skilled the original craftsman was. I have plenty of scope for imagination as I contemplate next changes and dream about what this place will become. This house and I need each other.
As I consider all of the things that have changed in my life I'm reminded of how many more things have stayed the same. I love my family beyond words - my husband, my sons, my new daughter-in- law, my siblings, my mother. This will never change. I cherish my old friends who have stayed with me through every move and change in my life - this won't ever change either. I appreciate every old friend from my past who cares enough to foster genuine re-connection - those who have traveled to visit me, who spend time engaging in online chats and message exchanges. This is something that matters. These people laugh with me and cry with me, and this keeps me going on rough days.
You know those rough days - we all have them. But we can "get by with a little help from our friends". This is the beauty of friendship and love. This is generosity of spirit - this is caring.
I am go grateful for all of this - the changes, the growth, the new opportunities before me. I'm grateful for my continued health, my marriage, my old friends and the new ones I'm making. I'm learning to appreciate the tears as much as the laughter in my life. This ability to feel and respond is what makes us human - as well as humane.
My circumstances have changed, but I was ready for this. Who knows how far I might go with this.
I'm not exactly as I was, but this is the life I choose. This is me.
I've got this.
Monday 28 November 2016
Tuesday 15 November 2016
In the Aftermath - By Sharon Flood Kasenberg
In the Aftermath...
Slowing thoughts and speeding actions,
pacifying inner factions -
of intentions I take stock.
I will synchronize my clock.
Life's too short to be caught racing
when the world that you are facing
makes you want to turn time back
as you race the same old track.
You may want to dig your heels in,
but you'll go into a tailspin
if you spur on the same horse
when you ought to just change course.
So change your inner dialogue,
don't pander to a demagogue,
assess what you might think.
Life ends in just a blink.
And your thoughts will all be banished
when the rest of you has vanished
but your actions will live on
when the rest of you is gone.
So transform thought into action -
it's time to gain some traction
making earth a better place
and not an endurance race.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg
A lot has happened in the past few weeks. The world lost a couple of great men, and the United States elected a new President - a man that almost all are united in believing will make huge changes, but whether this stir-up on the political front will lead to positive or negative change is a huge source of divisiveness.
All of the events I've mentioned have left me feeling contemplative, not exactly morose, but sober. My brain goes into overdrive wondering how Americans voted someone I see as despotic into power. Why should he be rising in power just as people more deserving are powerless, afraid, sick, dying...gone.
In the aftermath of the election I've participated in a lot of conversations about what this new American president will do to the United States, trade agreements, the economy, international relations and the whole wide world. I've listened, nodded and added about a nickel's worth of commentary. I'm not wise, and not terribly politically astute. I'm not even American, so some could argue that the election doesn't have much to do with me. Still, it doesn't feel right - I'm uneasy about the outcome and feel an increased wariness toward mankind in general terms. That isn't right either. How should I respond to this change?
Here's what I've concluded:
I can listen. When I agree I can nod my head. When I disagree I can try to assuage the fear that lies behind the anger. I can respond civilly when others express opinions that seem ignorant, racist, sexist, bigoted and uninformed. Whether I like what they say or not, they can say what they wish.
I can diffuse arguments by refusing to emotionally engage with those who express their opinions in ways that seem designed to incite my wrath or abase me, or anyone else. I can choose to walk away and not listen too.
I can try to be a better, kinder, more inclusive person. I can seek opportunities to engage and converse with people who aren't anything like me. I can try to disprove my own biases by looking past superficial differences. By working on improving myself, and my ability to forge a greater variety of relationships, I can make my own little corner of the world a nicer place to be.
I can remember that this situation - the American election, and the looming shadow of the incumbent President, will pass. The Donald will not become President for life, and unless he initiates the apocalypse, anything else he does can eventually be undone. While there's life, there's hope - which leads to my thoughts on the passing of two different men.
In the aftermath of Leonard Cohen's death I've thought a lot about the power of words. I've considered how enriched the masses can feel when one poet turns thoughts into poetry and music. I've raised a glass to Leonard, listened to his poems quoted and sung, and heard stories from others about how his words affected them, influenced their lives and made them think. I've seen diverse people gathered round a table reflecting on the life, the death, and words of one man, and I've seen how those words, read and quoted, connected them.
Life is too short to leave important words unsaid, unwritten, unexpressed. It's not enough to think good thoughts when those thoughts never bear fruit. It's time to write your words, speak your words, and act on the things you say. It's time to create something of your life that will unite a ragtag crew around a dining room table someday.
In the aftermath of the death of someone I barely knew, I was able to talk to, walk with, listen to, and share love and wisdom with someone I love a lot. I became better able to see how the gentle, unassuming people we encounter on the journey affect us more profoundly than the blustering posturing, pandering speechifying wannabe politicians in the world.
By spending time in the space of someone so recently departed, I could see how he'd imbued his environment with his essence. It was a calm, peaceful, simple, earthy room - and if the door blew open once or twice while I was there, my rest was still easy. I saw plants he'd tended, things he'd built, and a philosophy of simplicity in evidence everywhere.
In the aftermath of his death I want to work harder at being humble, grateful and peaceable. I've been reminded that life is short - none of us know how many days we have - we must spend them in the best ways possible. Take time to express appreciation to the people you love most. Brighten someone's day with a compliment or a smile - they'll remember it. Live graciously with those with whom you disagree - life is too short to waste time accumulating enemies. Live simply and purposefully. Create something, whether it's a work of art, a poem, a garden or something as mundane as a tie rack - just something, anything, that will outlast you. Leave some sort of legacy that can connect those who gather when you're gone.
Decide now what you'll leave behind you. Live the stories you want told around a table. Write the songs, the poems, the love letters you want written. Leave no important words unsaid.
Life is short. Consider how you want to be considered in the aftermath.
Slowing thoughts and speeding actions,
pacifying inner factions -
of intentions I take stock.
I will synchronize my clock.
Life's too short to be caught racing
when the world that you are facing
makes you want to turn time back
as you race the same old track.
You may want to dig your heels in,
but you'll go into a tailspin
if you spur on the same horse
when you ought to just change course.
So change your inner dialogue,
don't pander to a demagogue,
assess what you might think.
Life ends in just a blink.
And your thoughts will all be banished
when the rest of you has vanished
but your actions will live on
when the rest of you is gone.
So transform thought into action -
it's time to gain some traction
making earth a better place
and not an endurance race.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg
A lot has happened in the past few weeks. The world lost a couple of great men, and the United States elected a new President - a man that almost all are united in believing will make huge changes, but whether this stir-up on the political front will lead to positive or negative change is a huge source of divisiveness.
All of the events I've mentioned have left me feeling contemplative, not exactly morose, but sober. My brain goes into overdrive wondering how Americans voted someone I see as despotic into power. Why should he be rising in power just as people more deserving are powerless, afraid, sick, dying...gone.
In the aftermath of the election I've participated in a lot of conversations about what this new American president will do to the United States, trade agreements, the economy, international relations and the whole wide world. I've listened, nodded and added about a nickel's worth of commentary. I'm not wise, and not terribly politically astute. I'm not even American, so some could argue that the election doesn't have much to do with me. Still, it doesn't feel right - I'm uneasy about the outcome and feel an increased wariness toward mankind in general terms. That isn't right either. How should I respond to this change?
Here's what I've concluded:
I can listen. When I agree I can nod my head. When I disagree I can try to assuage the fear that lies behind the anger. I can respond civilly when others express opinions that seem ignorant, racist, sexist, bigoted and uninformed. Whether I like what they say or not, they can say what they wish.
I can diffuse arguments by refusing to emotionally engage with those who express their opinions in ways that seem designed to incite my wrath or abase me, or anyone else. I can choose to walk away and not listen too.
I can try to be a better, kinder, more inclusive person. I can seek opportunities to engage and converse with people who aren't anything like me. I can try to disprove my own biases by looking past superficial differences. By working on improving myself, and my ability to forge a greater variety of relationships, I can make my own little corner of the world a nicer place to be.
I can remember that this situation - the American election, and the looming shadow of the incumbent President, will pass. The Donald will not become President for life, and unless he initiates the apocalypse, anything else he does can eventually be undone. While there's life, there's hope - which leads to my thoughts on the passing of two different men.
In the aftermath of Leonard Cohen's death I've thought a lot about the power of words. I've considered how enriched the masses can feel when one poet turns thoughts into poetry and music. I've raised a glass to Leonard, listened to his poems quoted and sung, and heard stories from others about how his words affected them, influenced their lives and made them think. I've seen diverse people gathered round a table reflecting on the life, the death, and words of one man, and I've seen how those words, read and quoted, connected them.
Life is too short to leave important words unsaid, unwritten, unexpressed. It's not enough to think good thoughts when those thoughts never bear fruit. It's time to write your words, speak your words, and act on the things you say. It's time to create something of your life that will unite a ragtag crew around a dining room table someday.
In the aftermath of the death of someone I barely knew, I was able to talk to, walk with, listen to, and share love and wisdom with someone I love a lot. I became better able to see how the gentle, unassuming people we encounter on the journey affect us more profoundly than the blustering posturing, pandering speechifying wannabe politicians in the world.
By spending time in the space of someone so recently departed, I could see how he'd imbued his environment with his essence. It was a calm, peaceful, simple, earthy room - and if the door blew open once or twice while I was there, my rest was still easy. I saw plants he'd tended, things he'd built, and a philosophy of simplicity in evidence everywhere.
In the aftermath of his death I want to work harder at being humble, grateful and peaceable. I've been reminded that life is short - none of us know how many days we have - we must spend them in the best ways possible. Take time to express appreciation to the people you love most. Brighten someone's day with a compliment or a smile - they'll remember it. Live graciously with those with whom you disagree - life is too short to waste time accumulating enemies. Live simply and purposefully. Create something, whether it's a work of art, a poem, a garden or something as mundane as a tie rack - just something, anything, that will outlast you. Leave some sort of legacy that can connect those who gather when you're gone.
Decide now what you'll leave behind you. Live the stories you want told around a table. Write the songs, the poems, the love letters you want written. Leave no important words unsaid.
Life is short. Consider how you want to be considered in the aftermath.
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