Making Christmas:
I looked out my window,
and what do you know?
A nasty grey drizzle
had melted my snow!
And rain in December,
it just isn't right -
It clouds o'er my Christmas
and stifles delight.
"But I will be happy",
I said to myself.
The mood of the weather
I'll put on the shelf.
I'll turn on the tree lights
and get down to work.
I've got things to finish,
there's no time to shirk!"
So I frosted cookies
then popped up some corn.
I got plenty done before
it was mid-morn.
Then old friend stopped by
with some cookies on plate.
I felt pretty good then -
in fact, I felt great!
Before long another
appeared at my door -
this one bearing presents -
what could I ask more?
On grey drizzly day when
the weather is bleak,
and for Christmas spirit
so wearied I seek -
I turned on my lights and
though skies never cleared,
The grey in my heart - well,
it just disappeared!
I kept making Christmas
for my family,
and others showed up who
made Christmas for me!
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, December 19, 2017
It's not often that I post twice in the space of a week, but when inspiration hits, why not?
Christmas has been very busy this year. It seemed to sneak up on me. Until yesterday I still thought it was two weeks away - seriously. So yesterday was a very harried day as I rushed to finish up the Christmas baking. Today I woke up feeling more like I had a decent grip on this whole Christmas thing - and then I looked out the window.
Nothing douses my Christmas spirit faster than a rainy day in December. I get gloomy at the mere thought that we might have a green Christmas. I'm a northern girl - born and bred in Sault Ste. Marie - and Christmas is just plain supposed to be white. And not "a skiff of snow white", but a full fledged grab your skates and/or toboggan white.
So I will admit that the clouds and drizzle made my holiday spirit go fizzle...
But there were things to do and I had no time to mope, so I turned on my indoor Christmas lights and got down to work. I frosted cookies. I watered my plants. I put together a couple of cookie tins for friends. I started making caramel popcorn (a favourite stocking stuffer in our household) - and then, there was a knock on my door.
Our realtor came by with cookies. He's an interesting guy, our realtor. He moonlights as a part-time pastry chef, and makes lovely European delicacies that he sometimes sells to restaurants. (He's that good.) He's also a really nice guy, so a visit from him is always pleasant. He came in and we had a brief visit. I gave him a tour of the house, and he admitted that if there's a house he's sold that he wishes he could've bought himself, this one is it.
Well, the cookies made me pretty happy, but knowing how much he likes my house reminded me just how much I like my house - which made me happier still.
He'd barely left when a friend stuck her head in my front door and called out to me. She came bearing gifts - one for me, and one for our exchange student. They were really sweet, thoughtful gifts - and like the Grinch I could feel my heart getting two sizes bigger.
You see, "Holiday Dreams Sharon" still makes the odd appearance. She tells me I put in all kinds of time cleaning and preparing and "making Christmas happen." She whispers in my ear, "they don't really appreciate all the time you put into this!"
Oh, I know she's wrong. I know it when my grown sons still ask (with a look of avid hope) if I'm making their favourite treat this year. I know it when the one who lives here happily helps trim the tree - and his brother says, "Save some ornaments for me to hang!" I know it when our exchange student casts longing glances as yet another container of goodies is put in the fridge. I know it when my husband salivates as I run through my repertoire of daily baking tasks, or looks around our house and says, "She sure does dress up nicely for Christmas!"
But in spite of all the affirmation that I get from my menfolk, sometimes I get weary - like I did this morning. And at times like that nothing can boost spirits more than having a friend (or two!) stop by and chat. The gifts and cookies were bonus. The real gift is knowing that I'm being thought of. The real gift is being reminded that I have a really great place to live. The real gift is knowing I'm loved.
The real gift is knowing that what comes around, really does go around. The Christmas that I'm busy making for others is elsewhere being made for me.
Merry Christmas (again!) from the Rhyming Muse, and may you all "make Christmas" in the best way you can for those you love and care for.
Tuesday, 19 December 2017
Saturday, 16 December 2017
Christmas Re-viewed - By Sharon Flood Kasenberg
Christmas Re-viewed
I see this season
through new set of eyes
as each experience
fills you with surprise.
And thus for me, old
flavours have more zest -
and everything I see
is reassessed.
I see afresh the
places that I go,
and feel the icy
chill of winter snow.
I watch as new tastes
settle on your tongue,
and ears hear carols
you have never sung.
And gratitude is
washed o'er me anew
as I see Christmas
from your point of view.
by Sharon Flood Kasenberg, Dec. 10, 2017
At the end of November we had a guest come to stay - an international student from Brazil. The house was in the midst of yet another round of renovations, and we could've said it just wasn't the right time - but we didn't. And he doesn't care one bit that there's dust in the hallway upstairs or a curtain on our bathroom door. In fact, he loves our house, loves the town, and is a really, really good sport when we correct his English pronunciation and grammar.
We live in a big house - we have room for one more. (Ha - we have room for more than one more!)
I felt some anxiety about taking in a student. What if the student found the town boring, and hated the shows we watch on television? I'm not a great cook - what if the student hated the meals I prepared? I'd just have to hope that a few good desserts could atone for less than stellar meals....
I lucked out. Our student has a sweet tooth. He has enjoyed getting caught up on Star Wars before we take him to the upcoming movie. If you ever want to witness pure ecstasy, watch the expression on the face of a kid who's biting into his first (still warm and gooey) home-made chocolate chip cookie.
"This is amazing!" he said - and I knew he'd forgive the sloppy Joe's and the canned sauce I'd serve up with pasta. Last night I made brownies, which were proclaimed the "new favourite".
Hosting this boy is a lot of fun. He marveled at the decorations I put up for Christmas, and asked if we were going to put up "a big tree" - I'd already erected several three foot trees in strategic locations and a four foot tree in the kitchen. Last Saturday night we hauled our old six-footer up from the basement and the four of us decorated it. The end result was proclaimed beautiful.
The next day we took him and his friend on a day trip to Goderich. It was beyond gratifying to see those two kids stare out at Lake Huron.
"This is the most beautiful place in Canada I've seen!", he told us.
It's interesting to re-evaluate all of the things you do and places you go - especially at Christmastime. Seriously - how many times have I gone to Goderich and never even bothered to look at the lake? And those treats that I deem too commonplace for Christmas? Not by his standards!
"I bake a lot at Christmas" I told him. "We have a little taste of what I baked, and then put the rest in the fridge to eat over the holidays."
"Do you bake chocolate chip cookies, cupcakes and brownies at Christmas?" he asked.
He looked a bit disheartened when I said I didn't, but perked up quickly when told he'd definitely enjoy those treats again before he returns to Brazil at the end of January. The cupcakes, by the way, were a cake mix. He had no idea what a cake mix was, and wondered how I baked such small cakes - so I showed him the box and explained that you add eggs, oil and water, stirred it up, and baked it in a special cupcake pan. Sheesh - how often have I baked a cake mix - apologetically, I might add - without stopping to consider that it's a convenience that relatively few people get to enjoy?
Shortbread cookies were apparently underwhelming, but Nanaimo bars got two thumbs up. Next week, he and I are going to make brigadeiros - a truffle-like treat they make in Brazil. It's nut free and gluten free, so my husband and daughter-in-law will definitely approve!
I've forewarned our guest that our house will get noisier and more crowded once my son, daughter-in-law and mother arrive for the festivities. He'll get to see us in our rowdy, holiday glory, and watch how our family's Christmas traditions play out. I know it sounds crazy, but that makes me feel more excited about Christmas than I've felt in a long time.
Make no mistake - as adults go, I get pretty excited about Christmas. I love the baking, the decorating and the Christmas carols (most of which our house guest has never heard) - but to catch a glimpse of a Canadian Christmas as seen through the eyes of a sixteen-year-old Brazilian is a rare opportunity that I'm relishing.
To someone who's never seen snow, never seen our Santa Claus, or worn winter boots, life in this part of the world, and at this time of year, is pretty different. I'm sure he thinks I'm loco for liking snow (heck - most Canadians think I am!) - but hey - there is something magical about fresh snow in December.
So here's my challenge for the holiday-harried and winter-weary North Americans reading this post:
Pretend - for just one day - that it's all new to you. Sniff the smell of fresh pine trees and wreaths on your way into the grocery store. Marvel over the invention of the chocolate chip - or a cake mix, or a cupcake pan. Look at those sparkling, snow-laden boughs like you've never seen them before. Listen to an honest-to-goodness Christmas carol carefully. (Warning - don't torture your ears by attempting this with Jingle Bells or the Little Drummer Boy!)
Are you still feeling jaded about Christmas? If so - you need to pretend harder.
Merry Christmas to all of you from the Rhyming Muse : )
Monday, 27 November 2017
The Family Tree - By Sharon Flood Kasenberg
The Family Tree
Designer trees are lovely,
but belong in banks and malls.
No one ought to quibble with
my approach to decking halls.
Fancy trees may be admired,
but of meaning they're devoid -
in their quest for tastefulness
all sentiment is destroyed.
They have got no tales to tell,
no history to reveal -
those colour coded baubles
hold no symbolism real.
No amateur hands touched them,
no element is misplaced;
everything coordinates
and must be precisely spaced.
My ornaments have stories -
rich memories they carry -
they don't look picture perfect,
their styles and colours vary.
My tree is a family tree,
and I think it's wacky
that my bits of Christmas past
are seen by some as tacky.
I don't aim for showmanship,
or to with tree bedazzle -
that's too much cost and effort
spent making my nerves frazzle!
Christmas is a holiday
we enjoy as family.
We turn on Christmas carols
and together trim the tree.
Our tree is never perfect,
but its mish-mash makes us smile,
and being joyful matters
more than proving we have style.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, Dec. 1st, 2007
Last weekend I heard a phrase uttered that always makes me feel sad.
"I don't let my kids touch the tree", said a young mother. "I do all of my Christmas decorating while they're at school."
I was in a neighbouring town, attending a tour of homes decorated for Christmas. I'll concede that to a lot of people attending the event, achieving perfect Christmas decor is probably an important part of the holiday season. (I was far more interested in visiting some nice old houses.)
Still, although I've heard that sentiment before, it never ceases to sadden me. I can't help but pity the poor little tykes who will never contribute to the family Christmas tree. I walked through all of those perfectly decorated homes last weekend without feeling the slightest twinge of envy. Every tree I saw looked the same - professionally decorated according to the most current design trends - and completely devoid of anything personal. No small children hung any of those perfectly placed ornaments, and no school projects hand crafted by an excited five, seven or ten year old graced those branches.
My approach to Christmas decorating is the complete opposite. My sons always helped me trim the tree - or trees. Popsicle stick reindeer and button covered, spray painted styrofoam balls held a place of honour. (Some have survived long enough that decades later they're still on the tree.) The reindeer they cut out with a jigsaw in Cub Scouts still get displayed.
Oh, I'll admit that I gave them a few rudimentary design tips along the way, things like spacing things out so that there isn't a big clump of ornamentation in one spot and bare branches in other places. They learned to try and evenly distribute balls of different colours, to put smaller ornaments closer to the top of the tree (so that it doesn't look top-heavy), and to put the sturdier ornaments near the bottom so that if children visit there's less worry about things getting broken. Otherwise, I'd just let them do their thing, and if a few items were really badly placed I'd move them - a bit - after the fact.
I've always loved the tradition of decorating the trees together as a family. We listen to Christmas carols and make a night of it. The ornaments we hang remind us of Christmases past - the foil balls we bought when the boys were toddlers, the ornaments the boys made, the bits Todd and I each inherited from our parents - they all mean something to us.
One year I made a whole bunch stars out of sparkly pipe cleaners. I'd heard a friend say he had no ornaments for his Christmas tree, so I bought the pipe cleaners at the dollar store and played with them until I came up with the idea of making little stars that could be placed directly on the tree. They appealed to my sense of whimsy, so I made some for our tree too. Then the boys got playing with those pipe-cleaners and decided this Beatle-loving family needed a few glittery gold submarines to hang on the tree. Why not? They still get hung, and remind us of the goofiness that we enjoy as a family.
Another family tradition we have is covering our windows with honest-to-goodness six-sided, hand cut snowflakes. I first did this when my sons were two and three, because it was cheap and cheerful decor. The boys loved those snowflakes and begged for them every year after. When they were six or seven they learned how to cut them out themselves, and many of the flakes on my front window were cut by Sam and Dan. (Some survive from year to year, and every year a few new ones are made.)
The "big tree" we decorate has a history of its own. It's the only artificial tree that my parents ever owned - purchased the year I left home. It's getting pretty old now, and sheds almost as much as a real tree would. Next Christmas we hope to put up a new tree - a bigger one that's more befitting of the ten foot ceilings in our new/old house. I'm sure we'll acquire a few new ornaments to go on it too, and when we do it's likely our tree will look slightly more coordinated than it presently does. But I don't aspire to a perfectly designed tree.
No - I like my family tree in all of its glorious imperfection. I like the memories it holds and the conversations it starts. I like knowing that my parents and grandparents touched some of what adorns it, and that my sons have left their mark. I like anticipating the day a grandchild or two will give me some precious effort and proudly say, "I made this for you, Grandma!" Surely when that day comes I'll hang the offering proudly on my tree.
My tree will never look perfect - I'm absolutely convinced of that. But somehow every year it feels perfect - and that matters a lot more to me than displaying a work of art.
Designer trees are lovely,
but belong in banks and malls.
No one ought to quibble with
my approach to decking halls.
Fancy trees may be admired,
but of meaning they're devoid -
in their quest for tastefulness
all sentiment is destroyed.
They have got no tales to tell,
no history to reveal -
those colour coded baubles
hold no symbolism real.
No amateur hands touched them,
no element is misplaced;
everything coordinates
and must be precisely spaced.
My ornaments have stories -
rich memories they carry -
they don't look picture perfect,
their styles and colours vary.
My tree is a family tree,
and I think it's wacky
that my bits of Christmas past
are seen by some as tacky.
I don't aim for showmanship,
or to with tree bedazzle -
that's too much cost and effort
spent making my nerves frazzle!
Christmas is a holiday
we enjoy as family.
We turn on Christmas carols
and together trim the tree.
Our tree is never perfect,
but its mish-mash makes us smile,
and being joyful matters
more than proving we have style.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, Dec. 1st, 2007
Last weekend I heard a phrase uttered that always makes me feel sad.
"I don't let my kids touch the tree", said a young mother. "I do all of my Christmas decorating while they're at school."
I was in a neighbouring town, attending a tour of homes decorated for Christmas. I'll concede that to a lot of people attending the event, achieving perfect Christmas decor is probably an important part of the holiday season. (I was far more interested in visiting some nice old houses.)
Still, although I've heard that sentiment before, it never ceases to sadden me. I can't help but pity the poor little tykes who will never contribute to the family Christmas tree. I walked through all of those perfectly decorated homes last weekend without feeling the slightest twinge of envy. Every tree I saw looked the same - professionally decorated according to the most current design trends - and completely devoid of anything personal. No small children hung any of those perfectly placed ornaments, and no school projects hand crafted by an excited five, seven or ten year old graced those branches.
My approach to Christmas decorating is the complete opposite. My sons always helped me trim the tree - or trees. Popsicle stick reindeer and button covered, spray painted styrofoam balls held a place of honour. (Some have survived long enough that decades later they're still on the tree.) The reindeer they cut out with a jigsaw in Cub Scouts still get displayed.
Oh, I'll admit that I gave them a few rudimentary design tips along the way, things like spacing things out so that there isn't a big clump of ornamentation in one spot and bare branches in other places. They learned to try and evenly distribute balls of different colours, to put smaller ornaments closer to the top of the tree (so that it doesn't look top-heavy), and to put the sturdier ornaments near the bottom so that if children visit there's less worry about things getting broken. Otherwise, I'd just let them do their thing, and if a few items were really badly placed I'd move them - a bit - after the fact.
I've always loved the tradition of decorating the trees together as a family. We listen to Christmas carols and make a night of it. The ornaments we hang remind us of Christmases past - the foil balls we bought when the boys were toddlers, the ornaments the boys made, the bits Todd and I each inherited from our parents - they all mean something to us.
One year I made a whole bunch stars out of sparkly pipe cleaners. I'd heard a friend say he had no ornaments for his Christmas tree, so I bought the pipe cleaners at the dollar store and played with them until I came up with the idea of making little stars that could be placed directly on the tree. They appealed to my sense of whimsy, so I made some for our tree too. Then the boys got playing with those pipe-cleaners and decided this Beatle-loving family needed a few glittery gold submarines to hang on the tree. Why not? They still get hung, and remind us of the goofiness that we enjoy as a family.
Another family tradition we have is covering our windows with honest-to-goodness six-sided, hand cut snowflakes. I first did this when my sons were two and three, because it was cheap and cheerful decor. The boys loved those snowflakes and begged for them every year after. When they were six or seven they learned how to cut them out themselves, and many of the flakes on my front window were cut by Sam and Dan. (Some survive from year to year, and every year a few new ones are made.)
The "big tree" we decorate has a history of its own. It's the only artificial tree that my parents ever owned - purchased the year I left home. It's getting pretty old now, and sheds almost as much as a real tree would. Next Christmas we hope to put up a new tree - a bigger one that's more befitting of the ten foot ceilings in our new/old house. I'm sure we'll acquire a few new ornaments to go on it too, and when we do it's likely our tree will look slightly more coordinated than it presently does. But I don't aspire to a perfectly designed tree.
No - I like my family tree in all of its glorious imperfection. I like the memories it holds and the conversations it starts. I like knowing that my parents and grandparents touched some of what adorns it, and that my sons have left their mark. I like anticipating the day a grandchild or two will give me some precious effort and proudly say, "I made this for you, Grandma!" Surely when that day comes I'll hang the offering proudly on my tree.
My tree will never look perfect - I'm absolutely convinced of that. But somehow every year it feels perfect - and that matters a lot more to me than displaying a work of art.
Friday, 10 November 2017
Battlecry! By Sharon Flood Kasenberg
Battlecry!
I am in a war enlisted,
fighting battles in the world;
on my quest for peace and freedom
banner has now been unfurled.
I will not be the oppressor
of the innocent or meek,
but crusader in each battle
to protect those who are weak.
I wear only issued armour -
thus, with gratitude, I state
that my wounds are superficial
in this war on fear and hate.
So what spurs me on in battle
also fills me with great shame -
there are far too many victims
who will never say the same.
Every weapon that I carry
has been openly revealed -
only through love, freely offered,
may our world someday be healed.
Armed with tolerance and kindness
in the trenches I'll fight on,
urging all to join this battle
until enmity is gone.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, November 9, 2017
The world we live in has grown increasingly polarized. We divide ourselves into tribes based on political beliefs, opinions and ideologies. We are "Us", and all others are "Them". We don't stop to dwell on the similarities that exist between us - like the fact that we're all human beings. We forget that "They" have hearts too, and love their families just as we do. We don't want to stop to consider how "They" have been molded by the events in their lives, and how their experiences led them to hold opposing points of view. We don't really want to understand why they see the world as they do - we'd rather block "them" out, shut "them" down, or help "them" see the error of "their" ways.
We are arrogant - our desire to be right too often eclipses our desire to live in harmony with each other. And when we have the convenience of a "tribe" surrounding us who share our convictions, the notion that we might need to communicate with those who feel differently is apt to fly right out the window.
I'm not going to say that all arrogance is born of superiority. There are plenty of "humbly arrogant" souls out there too. These are the people who grow arrogant through fear, ignorance and laziness. Some of these people don't want to see the humanity in those outside their chosen tribe - because if they could, they might find bonds of commonality. And when we can relate to the "other" it becomes too difficult to ignore them. And if we pay attention to their lives, thoughts, or words, we might lose some of our certainty - and that's a frightening concept. Others are just too ignorant or lazy to learn anything about "the other side". My sister once had a sign that she hung on our bedroom wall. It said:
My mind is made up. Don't confuse me with facts.
I thought it was funny at the time, but now I find it is nothing but a sad commentary on the way most people feel.
Truthfully, the only facts most of us want to find are those that reinforce our own stance, and we live in a world where Google can speedily serve them up to us. This confirmation bias helps us dig in our heels - I'm right, you're wrong - end of discussion - usually before it has even started.
I grew up in a religion, and was devout for fifty years. My church was my "tribe". When I left, a few friends suddenly stopped communicating with me. I had strained relationships with some family members. It hurt - a lot. Those who were quick to write me off didn't bother to ask me why I felt the way I did. Some were afraid I'd try to sway their own beliefs. (For the record, I wouldn't. We do NOT need to agree on religious ideologies to care about each other.) What bothers me most about this distancing is the niggling feeling I have that they're more comfortable making assumptions about my change of heart than actually knowing my reasons, or hearing my story. If we talked, they might realize that I haven't changed - they'd still find the same old things about me to like and dislike. They'd still see that we share common interests; that we're still more alike than they're comfortable acknowledging.
But there are those who don't feel they can be close to anyone who swears allegiance to another tribe - or simply leaves the one they were enured in. Anyone who doesn't go to their church, or vote for the same party, or support the same causes, or... has to be suspect. Family members, people we once called friends, neighbours - all become classified as "them" - the outsider who feels differently, thinks differently, lives differently. You get the picture. I get it too, because I've been there - suspicious of people who embrace beliefs that I just cannot fathom. I'll even admit that sometimes I'm still there - blinded to another person's goodness simply because I can't seem to see the world the same way. Sometimes trying to empathize seems so daunting.
Fortunately, we all meet people who rebel against this tribal mentality. People who mean it when they say that whatever you do, think or feel, I will still love you. Friends who make it plain that they don't care whether your political views align. Family members who affirm that family will always come first with them - they will never shun you - ever.
My daughter-in-law is one of the most diplomatic souls I've ever met. On a vacation together last winter, she showed me a wonderful example of trying to see the opposing point of view. The five of us went to Florida to visit my father-in-law. Trump (who none of my clan have any admiration for) had just been elected, and we were about to meet up with a whole lot of people who helped vote him in. We cautioned our sons to NOT talk politics with Grandpa...and then he brought the subject up. I tried not to engage - I was a guest in his home and didn't want to cause offense. (I really like my father-in-law.) My husband engaged very cautiously. My sons (bless them!) did their best to not look too dismayed or disgruntled. And then my daughter-in-law spoke up. She simply said she didn't like Trump, or vote for him, but she sincerely wanted to know why he voted the way he did. A very respectful discussion ensued. Nobody came away with a different point of view, but we all listened to each other because she set the tone with an honest, polite inquiry.
We need more of that kind of interaction in our troubled world - more respectful "why" and "how". More listening. More seeing each other as a whole bunch of imperfect people, finding different solutions and coming to different conclusions. We need to care enough about others to ask questions, even when the answers we're sure to get won't satisfy us. Our opinions may not be changed through these exchanges - but we can halt anger and enmity over differing opinions and choices spilling over onto the individual concerned. We can agree to disagree, and in doing so remain a "we", not an "us" and "them".
Even when our minds are made up we can build unity by hearing another person's point of view - their "facts".
What matters is that we were open to dialogue. We sat down as friends, family members or opposing parties and we talked and listened.
If we can love each other enough to do that, we just might eventually manage to unify as a common tribe:
Humanity.
I am in a war enlisted,
fighting battles in the world;
on my quest for peace and freedom
banner has now been unfurled.
I will not be the oppressor
of the innocent or meek,
but crusader in each battle
to protect those who are weak.
I wear only issued armour -
thus, with gratitude, I state
that my wounds are superficial
in this war on fear and hate.
So what spurs me on in battle
also fills me with great shame -
there are far too many victims
who will never say the same.
Every weapon that I carry
has been openly revealed -
only through love, freely offered,
may our world someday be healed.
Armed with tolerance and kindness
in the trenches I'll fight on,
urging all to join this battle
until enmity is gone.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, November 9, 2017
The world we live in has grown increasingly polarized. We divide ourselves into tribes based on political beliefs, opinions and ideologies. We are "Us", and all others are "Them". We don't stop to dwell on the similarities that exist between us - like the fact that we're all human beings. We forget that "They" have hearts too, and love their families just as we do. We don't want to stop to consider how "They" have been molded by the events in their lives, and how their experiences led them to hold opposing points of view. We don't really want to understand why they see the world as they do - we'd rather block "them" out, shut "them" down, or help "them" see the error of "their" ways.
We are arrogant - our desire to be right too often eclipses our desire to live in harmony with each other. And when we have the convenience of a "tribe" surrounding us who share our convictions, the notion that we might need to communicate with those who feel differently is apt to fly right out the window.
I'm not going to say that all arrogance is born of superiority. There are plenty of "humbly arrogant" souls out there too. These are the people who grow arrogant through fear, ignorance and laziness. Some of these people don't want to see the humanity in those outside their chosen tribe - because if they could, they might find bonds of commonality. And when we can relate to the "other" it becomes too difficult to ignore them. And if we pay attention to their lives, thoughts, or words, we might lose some of our certainty - and that's a frightening concept. Others are just too ignorant or lazy to learn anything about "the other side". My sister once had a sign that she hung on our bedroom wall. It said:
My mind is made up. Don't confuse me with facts.
I thought it was funny at the time, but now I find it is nothing but a sad commentary on the way most people feel.
Truthfully, the only facts most of us want to find are those that reinforce our own stance, and we live in a world where Google can speedily serve them up to us. This confirmation bias helps us dig in our heels - I'm right, you're wrong - end of discussion - usually before it has even started.
I grew up in a religion, and was devout for fifty years. My church was my "tribe". When I left, a few friends suddenly stopped communicating with me. I had strained relationships with some family members. It hurt - a lot. Those who were quick to write me off didn't bother to ask me why I felt the way I did. Some were afraid I'd try to sway their own beliefs. (For the record, I wouldn't. We do NOT need to agree on religious ideologies to care about each other.) What bothers me most about this distancing is the niggling feeling I have that they're more comfortable making assumptions about my change of heart than actually knowing my reasons, or hearing my story. If we talked, they might realize that I haven't changed - they'd still find the same old things about me to like and dislike. They'd still see that we share common interests; that we're still more alike than they're comfortable acknowledging.
But there are those who don't feel they can be close to anyone who swears allegiance to another tribe - or simply leaves the one they were enured in. Anyone who doesn't go to their church, or vote for the same party, or support the same causes, or... has to be suspect. Family members, people we once called friends, neighbours - all become classified as "them" - the outsider who feels differently, thinks differently, lives differently. You get the picture. I get it too, because I've been there - suspicious of people who embrace beliefs that I just cannot fathom. I'll even admit that sometimes I'm still there - blinded to another person's goodness simply because I can't seem to see the world the same way. Sometimes trying to empathize seems so daunting.
Fortunately, we all meet people who rebel against this tribal mentality. People who mean it when they say that whatever you do, think or feel, I will still love you. Friends who make it plain that they don't care whether your political views align. Family members who affirm that family will always come first with them - they will never shun you - ever.
My daughter-in-law is one of the most diplomatic souls I've ever met. On a vacation together last winter, she showed me a wonderful example of trying to see the opposing point of view. The five of us went to Florida to visit my father-in-law. Trump (who none of my clan have any admiration for) had just been elected, and we were about to meet up with a whole lot of people who helped vote him in. We cautioned our sons to NOT talk politics with Grandpa...and then he brought the subject up. I tried not to engage - I was a guest in his home and didn't want to cause offense. (I really like my father-in-law.) My husband engaged very cautiously. My sons (bless them!) did their best to not look too dismayed or disgruntled. And then my daughter-in-law spoke up. She simply said she didn't like Trump, or vote for him, but she sincerely wanted to know why he voted the way he did. A very respectful discussion ensued. Nobody came away with a different point of view, but we all listened to each other because she set the tone with an honest, polite inquiry.
We need more of that kind of interaction in our troubled world - more respectful "why" and "how". More listening. More seeing each other as a whole bunch of imperfect people, finding different solutions and coming to different conclusions. We need to care enough about others to ask questions, even when the answers we're sure to get won't satisfy us. Our opinions may not be changed through these exchanges - but we can halt anger and enmity over differing opinions and choices spilling over onto the individual concerned. We can agree to disagree, and in doing so remain a "we", not an "us" and "them".
Even when our minds are made up we can build unity by hearing another person's point of view - their "facts".
What matters is that we were open to dialogue. We sat down as friends, family members or opposing parties and we talked and listened.
If we can love each other enough to do that, we just might eventually manage to unify as a common tribe:
Humanity.
Wednesday, 25 October 2017
Happy Halloween from the Haunted Kitchen! By Sharon Flood Kasenberg
This is a very scary tale (for most homeowners) of how my appliances are completely uncooperative with me, and conspiring with each other.
About a decade ago, we replaced our old fridge with a newer, larger, and more energy efficient model. Knowing that the old one wasn't worth much, it became our "garage fridge". It got plugged in and utilized on occasion - when we had a party, or when I was doing holiday baking. Otherwise it just sat out there, with its door carefully taped open so it wouldn't grow mildew.
I was happy to see the old fridge leave my kitchen. It was too small and too noisy. It hummed loudly, and that wasn't all.
It intermittently meowed like a cat! Seriously - over the years we had that fridge, guests frequently asked if we had a cat.
"Nope", I'd say, "It's our fridge."
It was the weirdest thing ever. Guys in appliance stores laughed when I'd tell them how my fridge sounded like a cat. I began to tire of them looking at me oddly, and I gave up asking them about the noise.
I speculated that perhaps my fridge was possessed by the spirit of one of my former pets - maybe Fluffy, my childhood cat, who was devoted to me in spite of the fact that I didn't feed her enough, and who supplemented her diet with mice and birds. (I loved that cat - I just never read the instructions on the can about how much food she should get. I was just a kid, but I still feel guilty about that.) My next cat, Mitts, fared better on the food front, but perhaps the kitten I gave to an irresponsible friend (who dropped it off on the side of a country road when she tired of it) was haunting me? (Trust me - I was pretty upset with the friend, so I didn't think that haunting was justified.) Perhaps it was Bitts, Mitt's son - the runt of the litter who we kept, never dreaming he'd grow into a massive galoot with six claws on every paw, the result of a little inbreeding. Bitts was a real sweetheart - well fed, well loved - and not a likely candidate to possess a second-rate fridge.
For whatever reason, the fridge meowed like a cat. Or, I should say, it meows - present tense - like a cat.
You see, when we moved into our new/old house, we claimed the cat/fridge from our former garage and put it into service in our new kitchen. "Kitty" is a miserable, cat-in-heat kind of appliance, but she keeps our food cold and will have to do the job until we break down and buy some new appliances.
Our oven is an old one that got reused too. At the end of 2014 I was fed up with said oven, and penned the following -
Ode to My Oven
My oven, I fear is possessed.
It flicks on and off, off and on.
Its antics leave me quite distressed,
but soon enough "Spook" will be gone.
Its convect fan died long ago -
now thermostat's broken once more.
It needs exorcism I know -
this fact I just cannot ignore.
Be still, haunted oven so cursed.
Your time in my kitchen shall cease.
I've eaten your best and your worst -
and soon at the curb you'll find peace.
-Sharon Flood Kasenberg, Nov 8th, 2014
HA! So, let me tell you the story of my oven.
Have you ever purchased a lemon that was posing as an appliance? "Spook" was bad news almost from the get-go. Like a lot of men, he's always had a tendency to run hot and cold. His thermostat was replaced twice before I got fed up and just learned to compensate. Currently he's over-heating, so every recipe is baked at a considerably lower temperature. And for good measure, I set the timer for a shorter period of time than is suggested.
Oh - do let me tell you about my oven timer! You'd think a miserable beast like Spook would have a lovely loud voice, but nope - not the case at all. When the timer goes off I hear one polite little beeep that lasts about three seconds. If I'm not in the same room, the thing is pretty well useless.
Once upon a time, Spook was a convection oven, but after repairing that feature twice we figured we'd go back to doing things the old fashioned way.
In the winter of 2015, we began looking at replacements for our possessed oven. My younger son was newly-engaged, and it had been decided that I'd provide baked goods at his reception. Spook was just too unreliable to do the job, so off he went to the garage. I eagerly anticipated the day he'd make it the rest of the way to the curb, but it wasn't to be....
You see, we began talking about moving in a year or so, and even I had to admit that Spook was better than no stove at all. Thus we decided we'd keep him "just in case" we found a place with no appliances.
BINGO! Heck, when we bought our new/old home, it didn't even have a kitchen, so "Spook and Kitty" have each received a reprieve from the scrap heap, and live on in my current kitchen.
Yes, I've learned to work around their eerie peculiarities. I put up with the meowing, and the flicking, and the lack of convection fan, and the practically useless timer... And frankly, old Spook and I churn out some pretty decent baking!
The biggest problem is that I fear the two of them have incited a rebellion in my kitchen. My microwave and toaster don't co-operate with each other at all, and somebody always trips a breaker when they inadvertently get turned on at the same time. (Warm the soup, then put in the toast!) Don't get me started on Tim the Toaster - he's a pretty useless tool too. He burns every second piece of bread he's given, and leaves the alternate slice untoasted. Fickle as they come!
The scariest part of this story is that my appliances are all in league with each other to drive me insane before we break the bank and buy new ones.
Kitty lets out a purring laugh when Spook burns the brownies. Spook gives an approving flick every time she yowls like a she-cat getting some action. They've created a rift between the toaster and the microwave that only a certified electrician can resolve (love ya, Ron Lockie!), and I'm betting that they both put my treadmill up to calling me "Trufflebutt"!
Sometimes a girl just can't catch a break.
About a decade ago, we replaced our old fridge with a newer, larger, and more energy efficient model. Knowing that the old one wasn't worth much, it became our "garage fridge". It got plugged in and utilized on occasion - when we had a party, or when I was doing holiday baking. Otherwise it just sat out there, with its door carefully taped open so it wouldn't grow mildew.
I was happy to see the old fridge leave my kitchen. It was too small and too noisy. It hummed loudly, and that wasn't all.
It intermittently meowed like a cat! Seriously - over the years we had that fridge, guests frequently asked if we had a cat.
"Nope", I'd say, "It's our fridge."
It was the weirdest thing ever. Guys in appliance stores laughed when I'd tell them how my fridge sounded like a cat. I began to tire of them looking at me oddly, and I gave up asking them about the noise.
I speculated that perhaps my fridge was possessed by the spirit of one of my former pets - maybe Fluffy, my childhood cat, who was devoted to me in spite of the fact that I didn't feed her enough, and who supplemented her diet with mice and birds. (I loved that cat - I just never read the instructions on the can about how much food she should get. I was just a kid, but I still feel guilty about that.) My next cat, Mitts, fared better on the food front, but perhaps the kitten I gave to an irresponsible friend (who dropped it off on the side of a country road when she tired of it) was haunting me? (Trust me - I was pretty upset with the friend, so I didn't think that haunting was justified.) Perhaps it was Bitts, Mitt's son - the runt of the litter who we kept, never dreaming he'd grow into a massive galoot with six claws on every paw, the result of a little inbreeding. Bitts was a real sweetheart - well fed, well loved - and not a likely candidate to possess a second-rate fridge.
For whatever reason, the fridge meowed like a cat. Or, I should say, it meows - present tense - like a cat.
You see, when we moved into our new/old house, we claimed the cat/fridge from our former garage and put it into service in our new kitchen. "Kitty" is a miserable, cat-in-heat kind of appliance, but she keeps our food cold and will have to do the job until we break down and buy some new appliances.
Our oven is an old one that got reused too. At the end of 2014 I was fed up with said oven, and penned the following -
Ode to My Oven
My oven, I fear is possessed.
It flicks on and off, off and on.
Its antics leave me quite distressed,
but soon enough "Spook" will be gone.
Its convect fan died long ago -
now thermostat's broken once more.
It needs exorcism I know -
this fact I just cannot ignore.
Be still, haunted oven so cursed.
Your time in my kitchen shall cease.
I've eaten your best and your worst -
and soon at the curb you'll find peace.
-Sharon Flood Kasenberg, Nov 8th, 2014
HA! So, let me tell you the story of my oven.
Have you ever purchased a lemon that was posing as an appliance? "Spook" was bad news almost from the get-go. Like a lot of men, he's always had a tendency to run hot and cold. His thermostat was replaced twice before I got fed up and just learned to compensate. Currently he's over-heating, so every recipe is baked at a considerably lower temperature. And for good measure, I set the timer for a shorter period of time than is suggested.
Oh - do let me tell you about my oven timer! You'd think a miserable beast like Spook would have a lovely loud voice, but nope - not the case at all. When the timer goes off I hear one polite little beeep that lasts about three seconds. If I'm not in the same room, the thing is pretty well useless.
Once upon a time, Spook was a convection oven, but after repairing that feature twice we figured we'd go back to doing things the old fashioned way.
In the winter of 2015, we began looking at replacements for our possessed oven. My younger son was newly-engaged, and it had been decided that I'd provide baked goods at his reception. Spook was just too unreliable to do the job, so off he went to the garage. I eagerly anticipated the day he'd make it the rest of the way to the curb, but it wasn't to be....
You see, we began talking about moving in a year or so, and even I had to admit that Spook was better than no stove at all. Thus we decided we'd keep him "just in case" we found a place with no appliances.
BINGO! Heck, when we bought our new/old home, it didn't even have a kitchen, so "Spook and Kitty" have each received a reprieve from the scrap heap, and live on in my current kitchen.
Yes, I've learned to work around their eerie peculiarities. I put up with the meowing, and the flicking, and the lack of convection fan, and the practically useless timer... And frankly, old Spook and I churn out some pretty decent baking!
The biggest problem is that I fear the two of them have incited a rebellion in my kitchen. My microwave and toaster don't co-operate with each other at all, and somebody always trips a breaker when they inadvertently get turned on at the same time. (Warm the soup, then put in the toast!) Don't get me started on Tim the Toaster - he's a pretty useless tool too. He burns every second piece of bread he's given, and leaves the alternate slice untoasted. Fickle as they come!
The scariest part of this story is that my appliances are all in league with each other to drive me insane before we break the bank and buy new ones.
Kitty lets out a purring laugh when Spook burns the brownies. Spook gives an approving flick every time she yowls like a she-cat getting some action. They've created a rift between the toaster and the microwave that only a certified electrician can resolve (love ya, Ron Lockie!), and I'm betting that they both put my treadmill up to calling me "Trufflebutt"!
Sometimes a girl just can't catch a break.
Wednesday, 11 October 2017
Frank-ly, My Dear, I Can Do It My Way! By Sharon Flood Kasenberg
Frank-ly
Oh save me from the critics who will say
"You're better off just doing things my way."
Those folks who edit lives and hearts and verse
are always ready to your efforts curse.
They'll easily abbreviate your soul
if for an instant you grant them control.
They'll tell you how to think, behave and dress,
'til everything you do, you second guess.
But frankly, we can all more Frank-like be
and face down all the editors we see.
We can stand firm and tell them it's okay
to offer imperfection our own way.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, Sept 22, 2017
There are two kinds of people in the world - the critics, and the criticized. I'm pretty certain most of us have been both. I'm also fairly sure that many of us feel that we veer toward being one more often than the other.
I've said it before, and I know I'll say it again. I'm a harsh critic. I'm brutal in assessing myself, and I often have pretty strong opinions about other people's actions as well. Almost every day I see people doing things badly - in my opinion. I see parents not parenting well, drivers who shouldn't be driving, people being careless in a myriad of ways - and I almost never confront any of them with my criticisms. I don't enjoy confrontations, and I've learned that it doesn't make sense to tell other people what they should be doing. Life is easier all around if I live and let live.
Online I see people wearing hideous get-ups, writing posts that are filled with spelling and grammar errors, expressing incoherent opinions, taking pictures of baking that doesn't look that great, arguing without ever making a valid point...and so on. I scroll past 95% of the time without commenting. (I'm not perfect!) Okay, I might vent at my husband about the goofiness and ignorance I see, but very seldom will I comment unfavourably on another person's post. Their page, their post. If I like what they have to say, I can comment or give them the thumbs up, and if I don't, I can ignore it.
I've learned the hard way that what I think of other people, and their efforts, is really none of their business. There have been a few times in my life when I offered unsolicited opinions and had very bad experiences. Now, I almost always keep my mouth shut. I can think what I want to think about people - or whatever they want to put out there - but I don't need to share my opinion with them.
Sure - there are times and places where I have an obligation to offer, and receive, criticism. Most learning environments necessitate the doling out of some constructive criticism, and I understand that. Too often in those situations, people who want to learn become discouraged simply because they hear a whole lot more about what they're doing wrong than what they're doing right. Why do so many choose to tip the scales in favour of criticism when they could just as easily be building up another person's self esteem?
In Praise of Praise
In my late thirties I took a very basic computer course at a community college. Until then I'd barely touched our computer, except to dust it. Then suddenly the internet was becoming a big deal - and it was time for me to learn how to do a few basic things online. I had a hard time keeping up with the other adult learners in my group, and became the butt of jokes in the classroom. Part of this was because the instructor had a tendency to roll her eyes whenever I asked for help. It was pretty demoralizing. She really didn't think I'd ever figure out anything computer related - and seemed to enjoy drawing attention to my lack of tech savvy.
But I knew something she didn't - I knew I was smart enough to figure it all out - and just needed a lot more time to practice the skills she very hastily covered in class. Most of the others could pick things up merely by hearing the instructions, but I needed to go off on my own and do. She was shocked when I handed in the final assignment. I probably took twice as long to do it than anyone else, but I did a good job. I think I might've performed better all along if her focus had been on encouraging me, rather than repeatedly pointing out how inept I was.
One of the things I love about my experience with Toastmasters is that our group is so supportive and encouraging. We all evaluate each other's speeches - and focus on what was done well. When you know that people are looking harder for opportunities to praise than to criticize, it becomes easier to hear them offer you a few "grow points". Nobody leaves feeling discouraged after giving a speech, because we can all empathize with each other. We understand that if one member of the club feels like a failure it's because the rest of us have failed that person. We didn't do all we could to help them see their potential and gain confidence.
I wish the rest of the world operated by the same unwritten rules. There ought to be some sort of basic ratio for compliments to criticisms out there. Instead, most people think it's okay to be critical as long as they "balance things" by tossing out a compliment now and then. I want you to think about that - if we get as much negative feedback as we do praise, don't we receive the message that we're as much of a failure as we are a success?
Nobody wants to feel like they're teetering on the brink of failure - which is why I try to keep my opinions in check a lot more often than I used to. I know how hard it is to continually hear criticism from those who think they're being kind because they occasionally toss in a little faint praise, perhaps in order to tell themselves that they're being objective.
What I Think of YOU is None of Your Business!
There have been times when I've had friends ask my opinion, or even practically beg me to critique some creative effort.
"I really want to hear what you honestly think", they've implored.
When I was foolish enough to give them very carefully worded and honest opinions, they were not well received. Now I decline those invitations. Oh - I know there are people out there who claim they "want criticism", but in my experience most who say this are kidding themselves. People want accolades, not criticism. They ask for criticism because they're pretty sure they only merit positive feedback.
I, on the other hand, don't care if everyone heaps praise on me, but will gladly admit that I'm highly appreciative when those who disapprove of me, or anything that I say, do, or write, have enough forbearance to keep it to themselves. When I tell people I'd rather not get negative feedback, I think that just makes me more honest than most.
Years ago I was in a writer's group where one member of the group had taken a few writing and editing courses. This person insisted it be a "Critique Group". I didn't want to critique - or be critiqued. Who was I to tell others how to express themselves? Who were they to tell me what words to use? I stuck it out for a year, feeling more and more frustrated as time went on. I liked the people in the group - even the one who was the aspiring critic - but I was simply looking to bounce ideas off other people who liked to write, not have every item I shared with the group get "edited". If I'd wanted an editor, I would've hired one!
At that point I was forced to concede that artistically I'm not a collaborator. I like to go off on my own and create - and if the finished project isn't perfect, at least the offering is mine.
What You Think of ME is none of My Business!
I took me a long time to become insistent on doing things my way. When I was younger I seemed to be continually at the mercy of people who wanted to tell me how to do everything "better" - meaning the way they would do things. Now it upsets me that I so stoically let their critical comments rain down on me while I stayed silent.
Once, in my 30's, I taught a group of 10 -12 year old girls. Every week one little girl in the group would share some gem about me that her mother had seen fit to share with her.
"My mother says you wear too much make-up."
"My mother says your dresses are too short!"
"My mother says she doesn't know how you walk in those heels."
To provide a bit of background, I didn't know the mother concerned. I could identify her, and that afforded me enough information to not become too upset by any of these comments. She never wore a lick of make-up, so my modest use of it may have seemed excessive. Since her skirts all hung several inches below her knees, exposing my kneecaps (barely) probably seemed pretty scandalous. And because I never saw her wear anything but the most sensible shoes, she might have been genuinely flummoxed by how I walked in two inch heels.
Still, she really didn't need to share her critique of me through her impressionable preteen daughter. Looking back on that experience a few decades later, I wish I'd let this woman know - gently - that she was passing a legacy of negativity to her progeny. I wish I had told her that my appearance wasn't up for grabs as far as her judgements were concerned. If I faced that kind of criticism now, you can bet I wouldn't let it pass, but at the time I meekly went home every week, stinging from the injustice of being fodder for another woman's gossiping tongue.
Over the years I've heard criticisms of pretty well every aspect of my life, and I bore it all pretty patiently. (Criticism of people I love has never been well tolerated. Just - don't.) With age I'm acquiring enough to confidence to stand up for myself. I have a right to live as I wish - to believe what I want, wear what I want, and express myself in my own way! You also have a right to do whatever you want - and not hear my opinions on the matter. Since I've adopted a policy to (as much as possible) keep my criticisms of individuals away from their ears, I think it's perfectly acceptable to speak up when I get unasked for advice or opinions. Sounds fair - right?
Who are you to tell me how to live? What right do I have to tell you what you "should" do?
The words, "Don't ask, don't tell" have a wonderfully appropriate application when it comes to criticism. We are all entitled to have an opinion, but the other guy is just as entitled to not hear it!
Don't Ask, Don't Tell - Don't Tell, Don't Ask
If I don't ask
and you don't tell
then everything
will go quite well.
If my input
gets no request
I'll bite my tongue -
it's for the best.
If only more
held this belief
the world would see
a lot less grief.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, October 3, 2017
Oh save me from the critics who will say
"You're better off just doing things my way."
Those folks who edit lives and hearts and verse
are always ready to your efforts curse.
They'll easily abbreviate your soul
if for an instant you grant them control.
They'll tell you how to think, behave and dress,
'til everything you do, you second guess.
But frankly, we can all more Frank-like be
and face down all the editors we see.
We can stand firm and tell them it's okay
to offer imperfection our own way.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, Sept 22, 2017
There are two kinds of people in the world - the critics, and the criticized. I'm pretty certain most of us have been both. I'm also fairly sure that many of us feel that we veer toward being one more often than the other.
I've said it before, and I know I'll say it again. I'm a harsh critic. I'm brutal in assessing myself, and I often have pretty strong opinions about other people's actions as well. Almost every day I see people doing things badly - in my opinion. I see parents not parenting well, drivers who shouldn't be driving, people being careless in a myriad of ways - and I almost never confront any of them with my criticisms. I don't enjoy confrontations, and I've learned that it doesn't make sense to tell other people what they should be doing. Life is easier all around if I live and let live.
Online I see people wearing hideous get-ups, writing posts that are filled with spelling and grammar errors, expressing incoherent opinions, taking pictures of baking that doesn't look that great, arguing without ever making a valid point...and so on. I scroll past 95% of the time without commenting. (I'm not perfect!) Okay, I might vent at my husband about the goofiness and ignorance I see, but very seldom will I comment unfavourably on another person's post. Their page, their post. If I like what they have to say, I can comment or give them the thumbs up, and if I don't, I can ignore it.
I've learned the hard way that what I think of other people, and their efforts, is really none of their business. There have been a few times in my life when I offered unsolicited opinions and had very bad experiences. Now, I almost always keep my mouth shut. I can think what I want to think about people - or whatever they want to put out there - but I don't need to share my opinion with them.
Sure - there are times and places where I have an obligation to offer, and receive, criticism. Most learning environments necessitate the doling out of some constructive criticism, and I understand that. Too often in those situations, people who want to learn become discouraged simply because they hear a whole lot more about what they're doing wrong than what they're doing right. Why do so many choose to tip the scales in favour of criticism when they could just as easily be building up another person's self esteem?
In Praise of Praise
In my late thirties I took a very basic computer course at a community college. Until then I'd barely touched our computer, except to dust it. Then suddenly the internet was becoming a big deal - and it was time for me to learn how to do a few basic things online. I had a hard time keeping up with the other adult learners in my group, and became the butt of jokes in the classroom. Part of this was because the instructor had a tendency to roll her eyes whenever I asked for help. It was pretty demoralizing. She really didn't think I'd ever figure out anything computer related - and seemed to enjoy drawing attention to my lack of tech savvy.
But I knew something she didn't - I knew I was smart enough to figure it all out - and just needed a lot more time to practice the skills she very hastily covered in class. Most of the others could pick things up merely by hearing the instructions, but I needed to go off on my own and do. She was shocked when I handed in the final assignment. I probably took twice as long to do it than anyone else, but I did a good job. I think I might've performed better all along if her focus had been on encouraging me, rather than repeatedly pointing out how inept I was.
One of the things I love about my experience with Toastmasters is that our group is so supportive and encouraging. We all evaluate each other's speeches - and focus on what was done well. When you know that people are looking harder for opportunities to praise than to criticize, it becomes easier to hear them offer you a few "grow points". Nobody leaves feeling discouraged after giving a speech, because we can all empathize with each other. We understand that if one member of the club feels like a failure it's because the rest of us have failed that person. We didn't do all we could to help them see their potential and gain confidence.
I wish the rest of the world operated by the same unwritten rules. There ought to be some sort of basic ratio for compliments to criticisms out there. Instead, most people think it's okay to be critical as long as they "balance things" by tossing out a compliment now and then. I want you to think about that - if we get as much negative feedback as we do praise, don't we receive the message that we're as much of a failure as we are a success?
Nobody wants to feel like they're teetering on the brink of failure - which is why I try to keep my opinions in check a lot more often than I used to. I know how hard it is to continually hear criticism from those who think they're being kind because they occasionally toss in a little faint praise, perhaps in order to tell themselves that they're being objective.
What I Think of YOU is None of Your Business!
There have been times when I've had friends ask my opinion, or even practically beg me to critique some creative effort.
"I really want to hear what you honestly think", they've implored.
When I was foolish enough to give them very carefully worded and honest opinions, they were not well received. Now I decline those invitations. Oh - I know there are people out there who claim they "want criticism", but in my experience most who say this are kidding themselves. People want accolades, not criticism. They ask for criticism because they're pretty sure they only merit positive feedback.
I, on the other hand, don't care if everyone heaps praise on me, but will gladly admit that I'm highly appreciative when those who disapprove of me, or anything that I say, do, or write, have enough forbearance to keep it to themselves. When I tell people I'd rather not get negative feedback, I think that just makes me more honest than most.
Years ago I was in a writer's group where one member of the group had taken a few writing and editing courses. This person insisted it be a "Critique Group". I didn't want to critique - or be critiqued. Who was I to tell others how to express themselves? Who were they to tell me what words to use? I stuck it out for a year, feeling more and more frustrated as time went on. I liked the people in the group - even the one who was the aspiring critic - but I was simply looking to bounce ideas off other people who liked to write, not have every item I shared with the group get "edited". If I'd wanted an editor, I would've hired one!
At that point I was forced to concede that artistically I'm not a collaborator. I like to go off on my own and create - and if the finished project isn't perfect, at least the offering is mine.
What You Think of ME is none of My Business!
I took me a long time to become insistent on doing things my way. When I was younger I seemed to be continually at the mercy of people who wanted to tell me how to do everything "better" - meaning the way they would do things. Now it upsets me that I so stoically let their critical comments rain down on me while I stayed silent.
Once, in my 30's, I taught a group of 10 -12 year old girls. Every week one little girl in the group would share some gem about me that her mother had seen fit to share with her.
"My mother says you wear too much make-up."
"My mother says your dresses are too short!"
"My mother says she doesn't know how you walk in those heels."
To provide a bit of background, I didn't know the mother concerned. I could identify her, and that afforded me enough information to not become too upset by any of these comments. She never wore a lick of make-up, so my modest use of it may have seemed excessive. Since her skirts all hung several inches below her knees, exposing my kneecaps (barely) probably seemed pretty scandalous. And because I never saw her wear anything but the most sensible shoes, she might have been genuinely flummoxed by how I walked in two inch heels.
Still, she really didn't need to share her critique of me through her impressionable preteen daughter. Looking back on that experience a few decades later, I wish I'd let this woman know - gently - that she was passing a legacy of negativity to her progeny. I wish I had told her that my appearance wasn't up for grabs as far as her judgements were concerned. If I faced that kind of criticism now, you can bet I wouldn't let it pass, but at the time I meekly went home every week, stinging from the injustice of being fodder for another woman's gossiping tongue.
Over the years I've heard criticisms of pretty well every aspect of my life, and I bore it all pretty patiently. (Criticism of people I love has never been well tolerated. Just - don't.) With age I'm acquiring enough to confidence to stand up for myself. I have a right to live as I wish - to believe what I want, wear what I want, and express myself in my own way! You also have a right to do whatever you want - and not hear my opinions on the matter. Since I've adopted a policy to (as much as possible) keep my criticisms of individuals away from their ears, I think it's perfectly acceptable to speak up when I get unasked for advice or opinions. Sounds fair - right?
Who are you to tell me how to live? What right do I have to tell you what you "should" do?
The words, "Don't ask, don't tell" have a wonderfully appropriate application when it comes to criticism. We are all entitled to have an opinion, but the other guy is just as entitled to not hear it!
Don't Ask, Don't Tell - Don't Tell, Don't Ask
If I don't ask
and you don't tell
then everything
will go quite well.
If my input
gets no request
I'll bite my tongue -
it's for the best.
If only more
held this belief
the world would see
a lot less grief.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, October 3, 2017
Sunday, 24 September 2017
Finding "Kansas" - By Sharon Flood Kasenberg
Kansas!
Some say, "You're not in Kansas anymore!"
But Kansas, friends, is just outside my door!
There is a cornfield two scant blocks away,
and not much further, fields of fresh mowed hay.
Today I went to see a country fair -
and petted cows and sheep while I was there.
And such pastoral visions I have seen!
I'm more "in Kansas" than I've ever been!
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, Sept.23, 2017
Fourteen months ago we threw caution to the wind and made a bold move. We left our home of thirteen years in Kitchener and moved to a very small town an hour away. We'd always enjoyed exploring the countryside on the outskirts of whatever place we lived, but when our sons were in high school a dream was born. We were getting tired of living where our taxes continued to rise as our services diminished. We hated trying to navigate a city that was perpetually under construction, but never seemed to significantly improve. My husband realized he could work from anywhere, so why not escape the city? Other than housing a son (who was attending the University of Waterloo), and having my mother in town, we had no real ties to Kitchener. We craved a change of scenery and a fresh start.
We began to relish what we dubbed our "Corn and Beans Tours"- those exploratory drives down country roads that we took whenever we had free time on our hands. I began monitoring real estate listings in small towns, trying to assess where suitable properties could be obtained for a reasonable price.
"After the boys have left, we'll do it," we told ourselves. "We'll move out of the city into some quaint little burg."
Autumn of 2015 signaled the right time to make a change. Our younger son had just married, and he and his new wife moved to Boston to attend graduate school. Our older son said he wasn't adverse to making a move with us. He'd help us settle in, and if he didn't enjoy the rural adventure he could always move back to Kitchener. An earnest search for the right property ensued. I scoured realtor.com on a daily basis. In January, we began doing drive-bys - checking out listings that looked promising. In February we found a realtor who was willing to show us properties all over a fifty or sixty mile radius.
We found our house in April, put an offer in on it in May, got our house on the market as soon as we could, sealed the deal at both ends in early July, and were moved in by the beginning of August. Our rural adventure had begun!
I love our new/old house, and the town is very friendly, but after a year of concentrating almost entirely on home improvements, I began to feel panic settling in. Most of "the big stuff" had been completed inside the house. Progress had been stop and start - which is what happens when a self-employed man is writing the cheques. Still, we'd finished most of the big projects (except for one major renovation that is about to begin). With the the house nearing a reasonable state of completion, what would I do with my time?
Our forays into rural pursuits made me acutely aware of just how inept I would be as a truly rural housewife. I don't can, preserve or make jam. (I'm not even much of a cook.) My sewing machine treats me worse than my treadmill, and I always end up swearing at it! Thus quilting and I don't seem like a very good match. I've never milked a cow. (I touched one for the first time yesterday!) I haven't driven farm machinery - or a motorcycle or ski-doo. I haven't even been a passenger on either of them in the last two in decades. I've never been terribly enamored of country music. (It's okay, but I'd rather listen to rock 'n roll - or church choirs - or soft rock...) Can I learn to fit in?
I've always enjoyed pretty solitary pursuits - I read, I write, I bake. I like to socialize, but over the past several years I found myself growing more closed off. I'd been surrounded by people who all expected me to think the way they thought - and when I began to realize I didn't, I began to withdraw. Socializing with the people I knew grew difficult and stressful. When I moved, I vowed I'd try harder to be sociable - especially around women - because frankly they are more intimidating to me than men. (I blame 29 years in a predominantly male household for that. I can speak politics, science fiction and goofball, but I'm not so great when it comes to talking female.)
Women's conversation is harder to jump into. It's more personal - and I never know how much to share. I'm out of practice when it comes to these interactions. I feel like an interloper when I try to ease myself into a group of chatting female acquaintances. Sometimes I really do feel like a fish out of water.
But - I like it here. When I go back into Kitchener-Waterloo it doesn't feel like home, just noisy and congested. Six weeks ago I visited Toronto, and one afternoon in the Eaton Center made me feel sweaty and irritated - almost claustrophobic. I wondered aloud how people could catch their breath in crowds like that all day. I missed my big old house and my little town. I longed to take a big gulp of countrified air - manure and all!
I may not be entering any home-made pickles in the county fair (yet!), but I've adapted to the pace. I love having neighbours who wave when they drive by - or call out hellos as I walk by. When we begin to pass farmers' fields on the way home, I feel air moving deep into my pinched lungs. I begin to feel relaxed. I appreciate every horse, cow and Mennonite buggy I see. These sights don't seem to be becoming mundane, so I know I'm in the right place.
Yesterday, as we drove to the spectacle of our first plowing match, my husband reached over and took my hand.
"We're not in Kansas, anymore, " he said.
I thought about all the ways our lives have changed. Our son found a full time job six weeks after we moved here. My husband became a member of the local Lion's club - which has helped us get to know some really great people. We're discovering that we each have a little country in our soul. We can groove on watching dancing tractors. I can bake a pie that could be a legitimate contender in any agricultural fair. I might still need to discover the other bakers, board game players, readers and writers in my town - but I'm betting they're out there - and I'm not going to stop looking.
I looked over at my husband and gave his hand a squeeze.
"I disagree," I answered, taking a deep breath and waving my other hand toward the towering corn stalks we drove past.
"We're more in Kansas than we've ever been."
Some say, "You're not in Kansas anymore!"
But Kansas, friends, is just outside my door!
There is a cornfield two scant blocks away,
and not much further, fields of fresh mowed hay.
Today I went to see a country fair -
and petted cows and sheep while I was there.
And such pastoral visions I have seen!
I'm more "in Kansas" than I've ever been!
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, Sept.23, 2017
Fourteen months ago we threw caution to the wind and made a bold move. We left our home of thirteen years in Kitchener and moved to a very small town an hour away. We'd always enjoyed exploring the countryside on the outskirts of whatever place we lived, but when our sons were in high school a dream was born. We were getting tired of living where our taxes continued to rise as our services diminished. We hated trying to navigate a city that was perpetually under construction, but never seemed to significantly improve. My husband realized he could work from anywhere, so why not escape the city? Other than housing a son (who was attending the University of Waterloo), and having my mother in town, we had no real ties to Kitchener. We craved a change of scenery and a fresh start.
We began to relish what we dubbed our "Corn and Beans Tours"- those exploratory drives down country roads that we took whenever we had free time on our hands. I began monitoring real estate listings in small towns, trying to assess where suitable properties could be obtained for a reasonable price.
"After the boys have left, we'll do it," we told ourselves. "We'll move out of the city into some quaint little burg."
Autumn of 2015 signaled the right time to make a change. Our younger son had just married, and he and his new wife moved to Boston to attend graduate school. Our older son said he wasn't adverse to making a move with us. He'd help us settle in, and if he didn't enjoy the rural adventure he could always move back to Kitchener. An earnest search for the right property ensued. I scoured realtor.com on a daily basis. In January, we began doing drive-bys - checking out listings that looked promising. In February we found a realtor who was willing to show us properties all over a fifty or sixty mile radius.
We found our house in April, put an offer in on it in May, got our house on the market as soon as we could, sealed the deal at both ends in early July, and were moved in by the beginning of August. Our rural adventure had begun!
I love our new/old house, and the town is very friendly, but after a year of concentrating almost entirely on home improvements, I began to feel panic settling in. Most of "the big stuff" had been completed inside the house. Progress had been stop and start - which is what happens when a self-employed man is writing the cheques. Still, we'd finished most of the big projects (except for one major renovation that is about to begin). With the the house nearing a reasonable state of completion, what would I do with my time?
Our forays into rural pursuits made me acutely aware of just how inept I would be as a truly rural housewife. I don't can, preserve or make jam. (I'm not even much of a cook.) My sewing machine treats me worse than my treadmill, and I always end up swearing at it! Thus quilting and I don't seem like a very good match. I've never milked a cow. (I touched one for the first time yesterday!) I haven't driven farm machinery - or a motorcycle or ski-doo. I haven't even been a passenger on either of them in the last two in decades. I've never been terribly enamored of country music. (It's okay, but I'd rather listen to rock 'n roll - or church choirs - or soft rock...) Can I learn to fit in?
I've always enjoyed pretty solitary pursuits - I read, I write, I bake. I like to socialize, but over the past several years I found myself growing more closed off. I'd been surrounded by people who all expected me to think the way they thought - and when I began to realize I didn't, I began to withdraw. Socializing with the people I knew grew difficult and stressful. When I moved, I vowed I'd try harder to be sociable - especially around women - because frankly they are more intimidating to me than men. (I blame 29 years in a predominantly male household for that. I can speak politics, science fiction and goofball, but I'm not so great when it comes to talking female.)
Women's conversation is harder to jump into. It's more personal - and I never know how much to share. I'm out of practice when it comes to these interactions. I feel like an interloper when I try to ease myself into a group of chatting female acquaintances. Sometimes I really do feel like a fish out of water.
But - I like it here. When I go back into Kitchener-Waterloo it doesn't feel like home, just noisy and congested. Six weeks ago I visited Toronto, and one afternoon in the Eaton Center made me feel sweaty and irritated - almost claustrophobic. I wondered aloud how people could catch their breath in crowds like that all day. I missed my big old house and my little town. I longed to take a big gulp of countrified air - manure and all!
I may not be entering any home-made pickles in the county fair (yet!), but I've adapted to the pace. I love having neighbours who wave when they drive by - or call out hellos as I walk by. When we begin to pass farmers' fields on the way home, I feel air moving deep into my pinched lungs. I begin to feel relaxed. I appreciate every horse, cow and Mennonite buggy I see. These sights don't seem to be becoming mundane, so I know I'm in the right place.
Yesterday, as we drove to the spectacle of our first plowing match, my husband reached over and took my hand.
"We're not in Kansas, anymore, " he said.
I thought about all the ways our lives have changed. Our son found a full time job six weeks after we moved here. My husband became a member of the local Lion's club - which has helped us get to know some really great people. We're discovering that we each have a little country in our soul. We can groove on watching dancing tractors. I can bake a pie that could be a legitimate contender in any agricultural fair. I might still need to discover the other bakers, board game players, readers and writers in my town - but I'm betting they're out there - and I'm not going to stop looking.
I looked over at my husband and gave his hand a squeeze.
"I disagree," I answered, taking a deep breath and waving my other hand toward the towering corn stalks we drove past.
"We're more in Kansas than we've ever been."
Friday, 8 September 2017
Out, Out Darn Thought! By Sharon Flood Kasenberg
Oh the Thoughts Thinkers Think!
We all have a Thinker
designed to make thoughts,
to figure out details;
connect all the dots.
Our Thinker's not perfect,
sometimes it's confused -
it holds power o'er us
that's sometimes abused.
When we feel frustration
our Thinker mouths off,
"Just look what you've done now!"
your Thinker might scoff.
"You've handled things badly,
you ought to have known!
You're awfully stupid -
your chances are blown!"
At times like that, just leave
your Thinker alone!
The darn thing's not working
when it sends you thoughts
that leave you discouraged
and tied up in knots!
Oh, the thoughts Thinker thinks,
they are not always great -
you ought to ignore some
until they abate!
When Thinker malfunctions,
just give it a whack,
and soon you will notice
good thoughts coming back!
And the good thoughts it thinks
they will fill you with zest -
you'll hit the road running,
and ace every test!
When Thinker is gracious
your life is less stressed.
When Thinker is freed up
from negative fuzz
your thoughts are inspiring -
your brain is abuzz!
You're bound to have insights!
Solutions are found!
You're filled with contentment!
Your wisdom astounds!
"Oh goodness - you're brilliant!"
your Thinker avers,
"Your logic is flawless!
Your poetry purrs!"
My Thinker is fickle -
that's what I conclude.
It flatters and flattens;
it's kind, and it's rude.
And Oh! How my thinker
controls attitude!
I'm learning to root out
my Thinker's worst thoughts -
embrace the artistry,
discard the blots.
Thoughts that my Thinker thinks
are imperfect, but still,
I'll take all the good ones
and use them - I will!
I'll share them with passion
in prose, verse and speech;
my Thinker's good thoughts might
some more Thinkers reach!
And maybe - just maybe -
a few will be taught
by a couple of thinks
that my Thinker once thought!
(Well, that's what the Thinker
of Rhyming Muse sought.)
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, Sept. 2017
Hold that thought! Or at least - hold it if it's just another one of those mundane, "What shall I wear?" or "Goodness - it's raining again!" kind of queries or statements. A lot of the stuff that rumbles around in our noggins doesn't really need to be shared. Few of us set the world aflame with commentary on the weather. But we share trivialities with each other because it's what is easy and comfortable. Our tendency is to keep the deeper thoughts and feelings inside, where they're safe - and where they won't expose us.
I maintain that there are two kinds of thoughts that really need to be let out - and for different reasons:
Your Worst Thoughts
Sometimes we have really discouraging thoughts that want to rain all over our parade. Remember - if you think you're a drip it's probably because you're all wet! (Never get a girl named Flood started on water jokes. )
We need to pull these thoughts out of our heads before they pull us into our own personal purgatory. We might be able to verbally share them with a long suffering spouse or a trusted friend, or we might have to write them in a journal. We might have to lock ourselves in a room and let them speak their piece before we go on counterattack and stomp them dead. There is no making peace with thoughts that are looking to knock you flat. Nope - in those situations you need to be well versed in mortal combat manoeuvres. We have to rid ourselves of these thoughts, quickly and ruthlessly, or they'll drive us as crazy as the cricket in our front hall is driving my husband. (We think it's trapped in a vent.) The thing chirps endlessly - just like the negative thoughts our brains brew up on a really bad day.
Let out those soul-sucking thoughts in the most positive way you can muster. They're like vermin that get into your house - a mouse that darts out from under your couch, or a bat that suddenly swoops down your hall - total mood killers. At my last house we had mice get in a few times, and they made me question everything I thought I knew about my housecleaning habits - even though I knew they weren't coming in because my house was dirty (because it wasn't - and isn't). They simply showed up because they could - a few tiny holes in the foundation allowed them a way to infiltrate. The bat, who showed up at our current address, kept me from sleeping decently for several nights - ugh! (My attic has been declared clean by every tradesperson who's ever gone up there - and yet somehow one found a way in.) It didn't stay long because we weren't exactly welcoming. But if negativity comes knocking and we offer it a comfortable spot to roost it will stick around.
When I let my thoughts begin to drag me down, misery rapidly ensues. I know that I have to clear this thought vermin out of my head pronto, or like Lady Macbeth I'll soon be tormented beyond reach - and thus I've written a new poetic mantra:
Out - out, darn thought
depart my head!
I've better thoughts
to think instead!
Surround yourself with the kind of people who make your soul impenetrable - or will at least stick around to scare off the nasty ideas your brain dreams up - and help fill in the chinks so they don't come back!
Your Best Thoughts
Our brains are always busy, but we get to choose how they fill their days. Luckily, most brains are as capable of inspiring helpful thoughts and ideas as they are of harbouring the darker ones.
I don't think most of us are as quick to share our really positive thoughts and good ideas with the world as we should be. (There isn't enough spontaneous song and dance out there!) Most people fill their lives up with so much "busy" that their crazy, fun, imaginative and genius, groundbreaking thoughts get pushed aside - and all of those mundane musings I mentioned at the beginning of this post take over their harried heads.
Think back to your childhood. Remember how you couldn't wait to put crayons to paper and bring your wild imaginings to life? Remember how you loved telling your parents fantastical tales based on the antics of the kids at school? The responsibilities of adulthood seem to drain us of our creative juices when we need them most.
Let your best thoughts out! Write them. Speak them. Paint them. Turn them into inspiring conversations, poetry and music. Use them to solve problems - big and small. Use them to generate laughter and love. Share them - and you'll inspire others to share their best thoughts, best feelings, and best efforts with the world.
There's a lot more room in the universe for happy thoughts, infectious laughter and genuine enthusiasm. We all need more compliments, more encouragement and more opportunities to exchange ideas. The world needs more output from dreamers, inventors, artists and craftsmen.
I don't believe the best music has been written yet - and I'm certain that my best blog post is still inside me. Your best ideas probably haven't been shared. In fact, I'm betting that you've never given your best ideas the head space they deserve. Your adult self has likely squeezed them into whatever wee cranny is left over after the mundane and miserable have staked their claim on your mental real estate. That's certainly been the case with me - far, far too often.
Your best thoughts are meant to be shared. They deserve to be shared. Yes, there's always a risk that your words won't do them justice. (I know all about that...) Maybe your grand idea won't be perfectly executed and you'll be disappointed with whatever you're trying to produce. So what? One thing I'm learning more with every passing year is that other people don't have access to the perfect vision in my head, and amazingly enough, they often think that an original idea, imperfectly rendered, is pretty impressive. Tell yourself this -
Out out, great thought!
I'll share instead
of keeping you
locked in my head.
Plagued by the kind of thoughts that fill you with self doubt? Lose them.
Brimming with thoughts and ideas that might improve your world? Use them!
We all have a Thinker
designed to make thoughts,
to figure out details;
connect all the dots.
Our Thinker's not perfect,
sometimes it's confused -
it holds power o'er us
that's sometimes abused.
When we feel frustration
our Thinker mouths off,
"Just look what you've done now!"
your Thinker might scoff.
"You've handled things badly,
you ought to have known!
You're awfully stupid -
your chances are blown!"
At times like that, just leave
your Thinker alone!
The darn thing's not working
when it sends you thoughts
that leave you discouraged
and tied up in knots!
Oh, the thoughts Thinker thinks,
they are not always great -
you ought to ignore some
until they abate!
When Thinker malfunctions,
just give it a whack,
and soon you will notice
good thoughts coming back!
And the good thoughts it thinks
they will fill you with zest -
you'll hit the road running,
and ace every test!
When Thinker is gracious
your life is less stressed.
When Thinker is freed up
from negative fuzz
your thoughts are inspiring -
your brain is abuzz!
You're bound to have insights!
Solutions are found!
You're filled with contentment!
Your wisdom astounds!
"Oh goodness - you're brilliant!"
your Thinker avers,
"Your logic is flawless!
Your poetry purrs!"
My Thinker is fickle -
that's what I conclude.
It flatters and flattens;
it's kind, and it's rude.
And Oh! How my thinker
controls attitude!
I'm learning to root out
my Thinker's worst thoughts -
embrace the artistry,
discard the blots.
Thoughts that my Thinker thinks
are imperfect, but still,
I'll take all the good ones
and use them - I will!
I'll share them with passion
in prose, verse and speech;
my Thinker's good thoughts might
some more Thinkers reach!
And maybe - just maybe -
a few will be taught
by a couple of thinks
that my Thinker once thought!
(Well, that's what the Thinker
of Rhyming Muse sought.)
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, Sept. 2017
Hold that thought! Or at least - hold it if it's just another one of those mundane, "What shall I wear?" or "Goodness - it's raining again!" kind of queries or statements. A lot of the stuff that rumbles around in our noggins doesn't really need to be shared. Few of us set the world aflame with commentary on the weather. But we share trivialities with each other because it's what is easy and comfortable. Our tendency is to keep the deeper thoughts and feelings inside, where they're safe - and where they won't expose us.
I maintain that there are two kinds of thoughts that really need to be let out - and for different reasons:
Your Worst Thoughts
Sometimes we have really discouraging thoughts that want to rain all over our parade. Remember - if you think you're a drip it's probably because you're all wet! (Never get a girl named Flood started on water jokes. )
We need to pull these thoughts out of our heads before they pull us into our own personal purgatory. We might be able to verbally share them with a long suffering spouse or a trusted friend, or we might have to write them in a journal. We might have to lock ourselves in a room and let them speak their piece before we go on counterattack and stomp them dead. There is no making peace with thoughts that are looking to knock you flat. Nope - in those situations you need to be well versed in mortal combat manoeuvres. We have to rid ourselves of these thoughts, quickly and ruthlessly, or they'll drive us as crazy as the cricket in our front hall is driving my husband. (We think it's trapped in a vent.) The thing chirps endlessly - just like the negative thoughts our brains brew up on a really bad day.
Let out those soul-sucking thoughts in the most positive way you can muster. They're like vermin that get into your house - a mouse that darts out from under your couch, or a bat that suddenly swoops down your hall - total mood killers. At my last house we had mice get in a few times, and they made me question everything I thought I knew about my housecleaning habits - even though I knew they weren't coming in because my house was dirty (because it wasn't - and isn't). They simply showed up because they could - a few tiny holes in the foundation allowed them a way to infiltrate. The bat, who showed up at our current address, kept me from sleeping decently for several nights - ugh! (My attic has been declared clean by every tradesperson who's ever gone up there - and yet somehow one found a way in.) It didn't stay long because we weren't exactly welcoming. But if negativity comes knocking and we offer it a comfortable spot to roost it will stick around.
When I let my thoughts begin to drag me down, misery rapidly ensues. I know that I have to clear this thought vermin out of my head pronto, or like Lady Macbeth I'll soon be tormented beyond reach - and thus I've written a new poetic mantra:
Out - out, darn thought
depart my head!
I've better thoughts
to think instead!
Surround yourself with the kind of people who make your soul impenetrable - or will at least stick around to scare off the nasty ideas your brain dreams up - and help fill in the chinks so they don't come back!
Your Best Thoughts
Our brains are always busy, but we get to choose how they fill their days. Luckily, most brains are as capable of inspiring helpful thoughts and ideas as they are of harbouring the darker ones.
I don't think most of us are as quick to share our really positive thoughts and good ideas with the world as we should be. (There isn't enough spontaneous song and dance out there!) Most people fill their lives up with so much "busy" that their crazy, fun, imaginative and genius, groundbreaking thoughts get pushed aside - and all of those mundane musings I mentioned at the beginning of this post take over their harried heads.
Think back to your childhood. Remember how you couldn't wait to put crayons to paper and bring your wild imaginings to life? Remember how you loved telling your parents fantastical tales based on the antics of the kids at school? The responsibilities of adulthood seem to drain us of our creative juices when we need them most.
Let your best thoughts out! Write them. Speak them. Paint them. Turn them into inspiring conversations, poetry and music. Use them to solve problems - big and small. Use them to generate laughter and love. Share them - and you'll inspire others to share their best thoughts, best feelings, and best efforts with the world.
There's a lot more room in the universe for happy thoughts, infectious laughter and genuine enthusiasm. We all need more compliments, more encouragement and more opportunities to exchange ideas. The world needs more output from dreamers, inventors, artists and craftsmen.
I don't believe the best music has been written yet - and I'm certain that my best blog post is still inside me. Your best ideas probably haven't been shared. In fact, I'm betting that you've never given your best ideas the head space they deserve. Your adult self has likely squeezed them into whatever wee cranny is left over after the mundane and miserable have staked their claim on your mental real estate. That's certainly been the case with me - far, far too often.
Your best thoughts are meant to be shared. They deserve to be shared. Yes, there's always a risk that your words won't do them justice. (I know all about that...) Maybe your grand idea won't be perfectly executed and you'll be disappointed with whatever you're trying to produce. So what? One thing I'm learning more with every passing year is that other people don't have access to the perfect vision in my head, and amazingly enough, they often think that an original idea, imperfectly rendered, is pretty impressive. Tell yourself this -
Out out, great thought!
I'll share instead
of keeping you
locked in my head.
Plagued by the kind of thoughts that fill you with self doubt? Lose them.
Brimming with thoughts and ideas that might improve your world? Use them!
Tuesday, 22 August 2017
My Treadmill and I - It's complicated! By Sharon Flood Kasenberg
Ode to My Treadmill:
Oh the miles we've walked together
you and I through thin and thick -
and my steps, you keep them steady,
urging me to pace that's quick.
Seems whenever I am restless
you are at my beck and call -
with your aid I'm ever climbing
and I never seem to fall.
My devotion can't be questioned
(though we've had our ups and downs)
but dear Treadmill, I'll admit it
on your frame I've bestowed frowns.
So today I pause to thank you
for accepting my abuse -
with you I am always moving;
weather offers no excuse!
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, November 18, 2013
My treadmill and I have been together for more than a decade, and it's been a long and complicated relationship. She came into our family when I was going through menopause, and gaining a pound every time I so much as thought about eating a piece of cake. It was a truly dismal time for someone who loves to bake treats - and eat them.
At the time I belonged to one of those all female gyms, and in spite of doing my utmost to go three times weekly, and being a dedicated pedestrian, I continued to gain weight. Treadmill made me feel less guilty about missing the odd workout and staying in on those days when it rained non-stop, or was excessively warm or cold. Some days I loved her for giving me another way to be active. Other times I resented her mere presence in my house. She constantly reminded me that my carefree days of eating seconds, and never worrying about my weight were, well - behind me...
We've spent a lot of time together, but it isn't always a very balanced relationship - I can't help but feel that she's a bit of a control freak. I mean, she's totally obsessed with how fast I go and how many calories I burn. And she's soooo impatient! Some days she natters at me the whole time I'm with her -
"Hurry up, hurry up, hurry, hurry, hurry-up!", she'll chant continually. I swear she's never satisfied!
She can be a bit of a nag too - always telling me my heart-rate is too high - or not high enough. She encourages an unhealthy clingy-ness in me by threatening to cast me off like yesterday's garbage if I refuse to stay tethered or hang on to her. I'm also pretty certain that she lies sometimes, and simply refuses to tell me how many calories I've really burned.
I distanced myself from her earlier this summer. We didn't have a falling out, but by necessity she sat unplugged for almost two months while we stripped wallpaper and repainted in her room. (A long time for a minor fix, but we've faced a few wallpaper issues around here. That's fodder for a whole other post.) She mocked me ruthlessly while she sat there, neglected and dejected - and continually coated in plaster dust no matter how many times I vacuumed. A week ago we revived her - my husband and son eased her back into her spot, and I administered CPR. (Well, I plugged her in!) I thought that maybe she'd be happy for me - after all, I've lost a few pounds over the summer, even without her help. That's a whole lot of walking and mosquito dancing - and no second helpings. (Especially on dessert!) How could she not be proud of my efforts?
Still, no high five. No "Congratulations Sharon!" or double calories burned bonus points showed up on her screen. Instead I felt she was mildly resentful. This morning I tried to spend some quality time with her and she was downright discouraging - called me names the whole time!
"Trufflebutt, trufflebutt, truffle, truffle Trufflebutt!", she jeered.
I have to admit that I was feeling persecuted. (Not to mention a little confused by the weirdness of it all.) Why "Trufflebutt"? I don't eat truffles - I can't afford them, and honestly, I've never even coveted a real truffle. Was she saying that my butt looked like I ate too many truffles? That sure wouldn't be fair - I haven't even been indulging in the chocolate kind!
Now that I've shut her up (well, turned her off) - and the sweat has dried - I've decided to take "Trufflebutt" as a compliment. Maybe she's a better friend than I give her credit for, and in her own unique way was trying to convey a sense of my intrinsic worth. Truffles are a delicacy, and they're valuable. Maybe she was actually telling me that I'm worth the effort, and my back end can become an asset again, instead of a liability...?
Yeah - I think I'll go with that.
Oh the miles we've walked together
you and I through thin and thick -
and my steps, you keep them steady,
urging me to pace that's quick.
Seems whenever I am restless
you are at my beck and call -
with your aid I'm ever climbing
and I never seem to fall.
My devotion can't be questioned
(though we've had our ups and downs)
but dear Treadmill, I'll admit it
on your frame I've bestowed frowns.
So today I pause to thank you
for accepting my abuse -
with you I am always moving;
weather offers no excuse!
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, November 18, 2013
My treadmill and I have been together for more than a decade, and it's been a long and complicated relationship. She came into our family when I was going through menopause, and gaining a pound every time I so much as thought about eating a piece of cake. It was a truly dismal time for someone who loves to bake treats - and eat them.
At the time I belonged to one of those all female gyms, and in spite of doing my utmost to go three times weekly, and being a dedicated pedestrian, I continued to gain weight. Treadmill made me feel less guilty about missing the odd workout and staying in on those days when it rained non-stop, or was excessively warm or cold. Some days I loved her for giving me another way to be active. Other times I resented her mere presence in my house. She constantly reminded me that my carefree days of eating seconds, and never worrying about my weight were, well - behind me...
We've spent a lot of time together, but it isn't always a very balanced relationship - I can't help but feel that she's a bit of a control freak. I mean, she's totally obsessed with how fast I go and how many calories I burn. And she's soooo impatient! Some days she natters at me the whole time I'm with her -
"Hurry up, hurry up, hurry, hurry, hurry-up!", she'll chant continually. I swear she's never satisfied!
She can be a bit of a nag too - always telling me my heart-rate is too high - or not high enough. She encourages an unhealthy clingy-ness in me by threatening to cast me off like yesterday's garbage if I refuse to stay tethered or hang on to her. I'm also pretty certain that she lies sometimes, and simply refuses to tell me how many calories I've really burned.
I distanced myself from her earlier this summer. We didn't have a falling out, but by necessity she sat unplugged for almost two months while we stripped wallpaper and repainted in her room. (A long time for a minor fix, but we've faced a few wallpaper issues around here. That's fodder for a whole other post.) She mocked me ruthlessly while she sat there, neglected and dejected - and continually coated in plaster dust no matter how many times I vacuumed. A week ago we revived her - my husband and son eased her back into her spot, and I administered CPR. (Well, I plugged her in!) I thought that maybe she'd be happy for me - after all, I've lost a few pounds over the summer, even without her help. That's a whole lot of walking and mosquito dancing - and no second helpings. (Especially on dessert!) How could she not be proud of my efforts?
Still, no high five. No "Congratulations Sharon!" or double calories burned bonus points showed up on her screen. Instead I felt she was mildly resentful. This morning I tried to spend some quality time with her and she was downright discouraging - called me names the whole time!
"Trufflebutt, trufflebutt, truffle, truffle Trufflebutt!", she jeered.
I have to admit that I was feeling persecuted. (Not to mention a little confused by the weirdness of it all.) Why "Trufflebutt"? I don't eat truffles - I can't afford them, and honestly, I've never even coveted a real truffle. Was she saying that my butt looked like I ate too many truffles? That sure wouldn't be fair - I haven't even been indulging in the chocolate kind!
Now that I've shut her up (well, turned her off) - and the sweat has dried - I've decided to take "Trufflebutt" as a compliment. Maybe she's a better friend than I give her credit for, and in her own unique way was trying to convey a sense of my intrinsic worth. Truffles are a delicacy, and they're valuable. Maybe she was actually telling me that I'm worth the effort, and my back end can become an asset again, instead of a liability...?
Yeah - I think I'll go with that.
Monday, 7 August 2017
What I Really Meant to Say - by Sharon Flood Kasenberg
Broken Telephone
We all play broken telephone
and substitute words of our own
when what is spoken is misheard -
not listening, we missed a word -
so what is registered in head
is far from what the speaker said.
And then we foster discontent
instead of asking what was meant,
and hastily make harsh reply
to the befuddled other guy!
We misconstrue and mistranslate,
but seldom do we hesitate
before we formulate response -
Communication - how it daunts!
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg - August, 2017
As a child my friends and I sometimes played a game we called "Broken Telephone". One person would whisper a sentence to the next person, and so on until every person had whispered the message they heard to the person behind them. By the time that message had reached the end of the line it was usually somewhat different than the phrase whispered in the first ear. We always found it fun to compare that first message to what the last hearer reported, and often tried to unravel the mystery of who had misheard what - or forgotten, or added - a word, as the message got passed along.
Communication isn't always straightforward. A lot of what we say is said badly, and a lot of what is spoken to us isn't really heard. We're don't take time to choose words carefully, and we don't listen closely when others speak. We are inattentive.
Usually our lack of attention isn't deliberate. We think we're speaking clearly enough to be understood, but there are whole lot of ways that the communication process can break down. I'm going to suggest how we might overcome a few common obstacles and facilitate better understanding when we converse.
Minimize Distraction!
As a society we suffer from an attention deficit and a distraction overload. We live in households where face to face conversations compete with ringing telephones, television programs, headphones blaring loud music, microwaves and ovens beeping, other people talking - and the list goes on. We work in environments where everyone has their own busy-ness cloggin' up the noggin. Sometimes we aren't heard simply because nobody is even aware that we're talking, let alone to them!
When I was young I once went to a party where I came upon a group of my friends. Unbeknownst to me - and some of them - two conversations were being carried on simultaneously.
"I like sitting in the back", said one friend.
"Really??", asked another incredulously. "Don't you find it awfully noisy back there?"
It took a few minutes for the first speaker, who was talking about canoeing, to realize that he'd stumbled into a second conversation about riding the city bus home from the University when it was full of high school kids!
If we want to be heard we need to minimize the din around us to make that possible. We need to be patient - sometimes the other party needs a minute or two to take care of immediate concerns before they can give us any undivided attention. Let them finish firing off that important email or turn down the television. Let them take the cake out of the oven. Once the distractions are diminished, and our desire to speak to the person has been clearly stated, the harder part of communicating begins.
Be Certain of Your Message
Before we can expect anyone else to understand what we're saying we need to have some understanding of what it is we want to convey. Sometimes we talk in circles because we aren't sure where we'd like the conversation to go. What are you hoping to achieve by speaking to the other party? Are you looking for dialogue, or merely trying to pass on information? Be clear about how much time you need if the other person is busy. Know what you want to say. Nothing is more exasperating than trying to listen to someone who beats around the bush and expects you to read their mind! If you want to be understood, know what you want to say, and say it clearly.
Do you suspect that the house is on fire? If so - yell, "I think the house is on fire!", rather than hesitantly asking, "Hmmm - does anyone else smell smoke?"
Avoid Jargon
If you want people to understand what you have to say, make sure you're speaking a language they understand - and I'm not just referring to actual languages.
When my husband (an only child) first encountered my large and boisterous family, he felt like he'd entered the Twilight Zone. He claimed that we spoke our own language - full of private jokes and references to people and events he had no knowledge of. I felt the same way a few years later when, as a young, stay at home mother, I attended his work events with him. I had no knowledge of the pharmaceutical world and felt completely out of my element trying to converse with people who seemed intent on talking shop.
Every club, religious affiliation, political group, work environment and family develops their own unique jargon over time. It can be difficult for others to understand what we're talking about if we insist on tossing around technical terms that mean nothing to them, or making references to things they have no knowledge of.
Know Who You're Talking To
Not knowing the person, or people, we're trying to converse with can create misunderstandings too. Save the big words and drawn out scientific explanations for people who are likely to understand them. If you're talking to a child in grade school you should use words they'll readily understand. My younger son can get quite impassioned when he talks about artificial intelligence (his specialty), and at times around him I feel like the family dog, who hears - "Blah blah blah Rover!" Blah blah treat!" I just don't understand most of what he tells me, and frequently say things along the lines of -
"Remember - this is your mom! Dumb it down a little, will you?"
(You can say things like that around family without being judged too severely.) I don't mind pointing out that I have my areas of ignorance, but I'm pretty irritated when people assume I have the IQ of a ripe carrot and speak to me accordingly.
If you want to be clearly understood (and not offensive), try to get a grasp on how much the other person might know before you start talking to them. Observe them. Ask them questions, and listen to their answers - which leads me to my last bit of advice.
Listen Carefully!
Most of us care more about being understood than we care about understanding others. Communication is as much about listening as it is about talking, but often we're guilty of listening only well enough to formulate a relatively articulate response. When we make a more conscious effort to listen closely to others we become more apt to avoid communication problems. If we give the other person our full attention, they'll give us theirs - and distractions won't be such an issue. If we listen to the words they choose, we'll have an easier time using words and terms they can relate to, and not intimidating them with our impressive brainpower - or talking down to them as though we think they have none.
If we listen more often, and more attentively, we'll be able to avoid uttering apologetic phrases like -
"What I really meant to say was..."
We all play broken telephone
and substitute words of our own
when what is spoken is misheard -
not listening, we missed a word -
so what is registered in head
is far from what the speaker said.
And then we foster discontent
instead of asking what was meant,
and hastily make harsh reply
to the befuddled other guy!
We misconstrue and mistranslate,
but seldom do we hesitate
before we formulate response -
Communication - how it daunts!
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg - August, 2017
As a child my friends and I sometimes played a game we called "Broken Telephone". One person would whisper a sentence to the next person, and so on until every person had whispered the message they heard to the person behind them. By the time that message had reached the end of the line it was usually somewhat different than the phrase whispered in the first ear. We always found it fun to compare that first message to what the last hearer reported, and often tried to unravel the mystery of who had misheard what - or forgotten, or added - a word, as the message got passed along.
Communication isn't always straightforward. A lot of what we say is said badly, and a lot of what is spoken to us isn't really heard. We're don't take time to choose words carefully, and we don't listen closely when others speak. We are inattentive.
Usually our lack of attention isn't deliberate. We think we're speaking clearly enough to be understood, but there are whole lot of ways that the communication process can break down. I'm going to suggest how we might overcome a few common obstacles and facilitate better understanding when we converse.
Minimize Distraction!
As a society we suffer from an attention deficit and a distraction overload. We live in households where face to face conversations compete with ringing telephones, television programs, headphones blaring loud music, microwaves and ovens beeping, other people talking - and the list goes on. We work in environments where everyone has their own busy-ness cloggin' up the noggin. Sometimes we aren't heard simply because nobody is even aware that we're talking, let alone to them!
When I was young I once went to a party where I came upon a group of my friends. Unbeknownst to me - and some of them - two conversations were being carried on simultaneously.
"I like sitting in the back", said one friend.
"Really??", asked another incredulously. "Don't you find it awfully noisy back there?"
It took a few minutes for the first speaker, who was talking about canoeing, to realize that he'd stumbled into a second conversation about riding the city bus home from the University when it was full of high school kids!
If we want to be heard we need to minimize the din around us to make that possible. We need to be patient - sometimes the other party needs a minute or two to take care of immediate concerns before they can give us any undivided attention. Let them finish firing off that important email or turn down the television. Let them take the cake out of the oven. Once the distractions are diminished, and our desire to speak to the person has been clearly stated, the harder part of communicating begins.
Be Certain of Your Message
Before we can expect anyone else to understand what we're saying we need to have some understanding of what it is we want to convey. Sometimes we talk in circles because we aren't sure where we'd like the conversation to go. What are you hoping to achieve by speaking to the other party? Are you looking for dialogue, or merely trying to pass on information? Be clear about how much time you need if the other person is busy. Know what you want to say. Nothing is more exasperating than trying to listen to someone who beats around the bush and expects you to read their mind! If you want to be understood, know what you want to say, and say it clearly.
Do you suspect that the house is on fire? If so - yell, "I think the house is on fire!", rather than hesitantly asking, "Hmmm - does anyone else smell smoke?"
Avoid Jargon
If you want people to understand what you have to say, make sure you're speaking a language they understand - and I'm not just referring to actual languages.
When my husband (an only child) first encountered my large and boisterous family, he felt like he'd entered the Twilight Zone. He claimed that we spoke our own language - full of private jokes and references to people and events he had no knowledge of. I felt the same way a few years later when, as a young, stay at home mother, I attended his work events with him. I had no knowledge of the pharmaceutical world and felt completely out of my element trying to converse with people who seemed intent on talking shop.
Every club, religious affiliation, political group, work environment and family develops their own unique jargon over time. It can be difficult for others to understand what we're talking about if we insist on tossing around technical terms that mean nothing to them, or making references to things they have no knowledge of.
Know Who You're Talking To
Not knowing the person, or people, we're trying to converse with can create misunderstandings too. Save the big words and drawn out scientific explanations for people who are likely to understand them. If you're talking to a child in grade school you should use words they'll readily understand. My younger son can get quite impassioned when he talks about artificial intelligence (his specialty), and at times around him I feel like the family dog, who hears - "Blah blah blah Rover!" Blah blah treat!" I just don't understand most of what he tells me, and frequently say things along the lines of -
"Remember - this is your mom! Dumb it down a little, will you?"
(You can say things like that around family without being judged too severely.) I don't mind pointing out that I have my areas of ignorance, but I'm pretty irritated when people assume I have the IQ of a ripe carrot and speak to me accordingly.
If you want to be clearly understood (and not offensive), try to get a grasp on how much the other person might know before you start talking to them. Observe them. Ask them questions, and listen to their answers - which leads me to my last bit of advice.
Listen Carefully!
Most of us care more about being understood than we care about understanding others. Communication is as much about listening as it is about talking, but often we're guilty of listening only well enough to formulate a relatively articulate response. When we make a more conscious effort to listen closely to others we become more apt to avoid communication problems. If we give the other person our full attention, they'll give us theirs - and distractions won't be such an issue. If we listen to the words they choose, we'll have an easier time using words and terms they can relate to, and not intimidating them with our impressive brainpower - or talking down to them as though we think they have none.
If we listen more often, and more attentively, we'll be able to avoid uttering apologetic phrases like -
"What I really meant to say was..."
Friday, 21 July 2017
Dances with Mosquitoes - By Sharon Flood Kasenberg
Mosquitoes:
Mosquitoes are most impolite.
They loudly buzz and rudely bite.
No creature will they ever please
with itching bites that spread disease.
And every being, man or beast,
can end up a mosquito feast!
In me, they thus incite attack -
so satisfying is the whack
that smashes one more parasite
before it gets the chance to bite!
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, July 20, 2017
Perhaps mosquitoes are the one topic on which most of humanity can agree. I hate them, you hate them, your neighbour and your dog hate them. They're really only appreciated by the creatures that eat them, which says a lot about their general appeal.
Southwestern Ontario has had the ideal conditions this spring and summer to produce a bumper crop of the filthy varmints - a late winter thaw (lots of puddles), a mostly cool spring and summer (no heat to kill them off) and frequent rain. I haven't experienced swarms of mosquitoes like this since I played in the woods on the shores of Lake Superior as a child.
Spending times outdoors has lost a fair amount of appeal, and getting outdoor chores done, like weeding my flower beds, has been challenging. But I forge on, and have come up with a system that makes it less miserable for me. Before I shower in the morning I coat myself and my clothing in Deep Woods Off and head outside to pull up the most offensive weeds in lawn and garden. Some mornings I use bug spray more strategically, and pull on a hoodie, leaving the hood up to protect my scalp and the back of my neck. I know I look silly, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
Neighbours have complained about battling the bugs to hang out laundry or walk their dogs. I've taken to walking during the hottest part of the day, and avoiding the shade (where the skeeters swarm) as much as possible. I might be increasing my risk of skin cancer, but I need the exercise and I'm sick of scratching. I've tried a few "natural bug repellents" mentioned online - I hate the smell and feel of commercial sprays - and I've had mixed results. Cider Vinegar actually seems to attract them, so I'd recommend avoiding any concoctions that use this as a main ingredient. A solution of mint essential oil and water (I put about half a teaspoon into about a cup of water and shook it up) seemed fairy effective, but only for twenty or thirty minutes. This mixture also leaves your skin all tingly and makes you feel minty fresh and invigorated, even if it causes your husband to claim that he feels like he's kissing a bottle of mouthwash.
Here in Atwood, I've seen everyone doing versions of the "Mosquito Dance" as they get out and about. One evening, as I was locking the front door, I saw a woman smacking herself and waving her hands in front of her face in the middle of my street. I couldn't resist the urge to cheer her on as she fought the good fight against the nasty blood-suckers. Opening my door I shouted, "Swat those flies, swat those flies!" I don't know her, and she doesn't know me, but I swear a moment of solidarity passed between us.
Doesn't it feel good to know we're not alone in looking goofy as we walk around batting them away from our faces and trying to flatten them before they bite? They bring out murderous tendencies in all of us. The fly swatter has taken up residence in the kitchen again, and if they dare land near me in any other room I'll smack them with my bare hands. (But never against the wallpaper or on freshly painted walls. A girl needs to maintain a few standards.) And really, is there much that's more satisfying then screaming, "HA- I got you!" after you've killed one?
They might be small, but they're mighty. Their bites sting and itch and spread disease. Every time I kill one I feel that I've done a small service to the world - except maybe the spider at my back door, and the toads who live in my garden. Any of them would love the tasty morsel.
But hey - spiders are a pain in the patootie too, and those toads in the garden make my hoodie clad self look even more ridiculous when they hop out of a plant, a foot from my nose, and make me jump back like some wannabe reverse broad jumper. So no apologies, mosquito eaters. I intend to keep on killing those disgusting little parasites before they stick their proboscises into my business!
Happy swatting, my friends. Keep on dancing, and I promise I won't laugh at your moves if you don't laugh at mine!
Mosquitoes are most impolite.
They loudly buzz and rudely bite.
No creature will they ever please
with itching bites that spread disease.
And every being, man or beast,
can end up a mosquito feast!
In me, they thus incite attack -
so satisfying is the whack
that smashes one more parasite
before it gets the chance to bite!
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, July 20, 2017
Perhaps mosquitoes are the one topic on which most of humanity can agree. I hate them, you hate them, your neighbour and your dog hate them. They're really only appreciated by the creatures that eat them, which says a lot about their general appeal.
Southwestern Ontario has had the ideal conditions this spring and summer to produce a bumper crop of the filthy varmints - a late winter thaw (lots of puddles), a mostly cool spring and summer (no heat to kill them off) and frequent rain. I haven't experienced swarms of mosquitoes like this since I played in the woods on the shores of Lake Superior as a child.
Spending times outdoors has lost a fair amount of appeal, and getting outdoor chores done, like weeding my flower beds, has been challenging. But I forge on, and have come up with a system that makes it less miserable for me. Before I shower in the morning I coat myself and my clothing in Deep Woods Off and head outside to pull up the most offensive weeds in lawn and garden. Some mornings I use bug spray more strategically, and pull on a hoodie, leaving the hood up to protect my scalp and the back of my neck. I know I look silly, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
Neighbours have complained about battling the bugs to hang out laundry or walk their dogs. I've taken to walking during the hottest part of the day, and avoiding the shade (where the skeeters swarm) as much as possible. I might be increasing my risk of skin cancer, but I need the exercise and I'm sick of scratching. I've tried a few "natural bug repellents" mentioned online - I hate the smell and feel of commercial sprays - and I've had mixed results. Cider Vinegar actually seems to attract them, so I'd recommend avoiding any concoctions that use this as a main ingredient. A solution of mint essential oil and water (I put about half a teaspoon into about a cup of water and shook it up) seemed fairy effective, but only for twenty or thirty minutes. This mixture also leaves your skin all tingly and makes you feel minty fresh and invigorated, even if it causes your husband to claim that he feels like he's kissing a bottle of mouthwash.
Here in Atwood, I've seen everyone doing versions of the "Mosquito Dance" as they get out and about. One evening, as I was locking the front door, I saw a woman smacking herself and waving her hands in front of her face in the middle of my street. I couldn't resist the urge to cheer her on as she fought the good fight against the nasty blood-suckers. Opening my door I shouted, "Swat those flies, swat those flies!" I don't know her, and she doesn't know me, but I swear a moment of solidarity passed between us.
Doesn't it feel good to know we're not alone in looking goofy as we walk around batting them away from our faces and trying to flatten them before they bite? They bring out murderous tendencies in all of us. The fly swatter has taken up residence in the kitchen again, and if they dare land near me in any other room I'll smack them with my bare hands. (But never against the wallpaper or on freshly painted walls. A girl needs to maintain a few standards.) And really, is there much that's more satisfying then screaming, "HA- I got you!" after you've killed one?
They might be small, but they're mighty. Their bites sting and itch and spread disease. Every time I kill one I feel that I've done a small service to the world - except maybe the spider at my back door, and the toads who live in my garden. Any of them would love the tasty morsel.
But hey - spiders are a pain in the patootie too, and those toads in the garden make my hoodie clad self look even more ridiculous when they hop out of a plant, a foot from my nose, and make me jump back like some wannabe reverse broad jumper. So no apologies, mosquito eaters. I intend to keep on killing those disgusting little parasites before they stick their proboscises into my business!
Happy swatting, my friends. Keep on dancing, and I promise I won't laugh at your moves if you don't laugh at mine!
Wednesday, 5 July 2017
Canada 150 - Atwood Style! By Sharon Flood Kasenberg
Canada 150 - Atwood Style!
For this celebration
our town is red and white -
birthday of our nation -
we have to do it right!
Canada Day in Atwood -
the whole town is abuzz!
The rain holds off as it should -
it cannot rain because
we have planned a big parade
to celebrate this day!
Lots of effort has been made
and now it's time to play!
Sirens can be heard now
firetrucks flash their lights
parade's beginning - oh wow!
I sit and watch the sights.
Cars from every decade,
trucks and tractors too,
all with Maple Leaf displayed
it seems the thing to do.
Floats are quite creative,
one has both pool and rink,
For "our home and native"
that fits, don't you think?
Pipers pipe and horses trot
along the parade route.
Eyes all watch from chosen spot -
'cause everyone is out!
Lion's Park is busy -
activities abound.
Crowds almost make me dizzy,
the whole town hangs around.
Hundreds eat together,
they visit and they chat.
All speak of the weather -
"What do you think of that?
Rain has held off for parade
for sixty years straight!
And clear skies for fireworks!
I can hardly wait!"
Rural celebrations?
Some are bound to scoff.
But no exaggeration -
Atwood pulls it off!
Little town with big heart -
I'm glad you took me in.
Celebrating is an art -
and this town takes the win!
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, July 5, 2017
Almost a year ago I moved to a small mid-western Ontario town. After months of looking we'd found the property we were looking for, and my only reservation about making the move was going to such a small town. Atwood Ontario isn't particularly pretty. Its streets aren't lined with quaint little shops and restaurants, and it doesn't have a ton of amenities to offer. Could I be happy there? Would I go stir crazy?
I quickly learned that this town has a few things more important than a grocery store or a lot of kitschy shops. It has friendly people. It has community spirit. It has heart.
Things happen here. Community events are well attended. People take the time to get to know their neighbours. The people of Atwood care about their community and work together to make things happen here.
I've lived in a lot of different places over the years, but I've never seen a community put as much into a Canada Day celebration as this one does. An entire weekend full of events was planned months in advance. People in town decorated their yards with red and white flowers and flags and signs, and Main Street had commemorative Canada 150 banners hung out.
Thursday night kicked off the celebrations with two different parties. At the community center there was a dance with a live band geared toward older adults. Attendance wasn't quite as high as had been hoped, but those who came had a good time and I think this event will gain popularity in the coming years. Outside, in the tennis courts, there was a video dance for the young (and young at heart). Friday night was wing night at the Lion's Park. (No cooking for me!) A local band began playing at about 7:30, and a tent was set up where children could watch videos. I didn't do a head count, but there was quite a crowd. Everyone enjoyed their wings and seemed to be having fun socializing and listening to the music.
My younger son and daughter-in-law arrived from Boston on Wednesday night and were enthusiastic about going to wing night and enjoying the Canada Day celebrations with us on Saturday. I think now they're beginning to understand why we like it here so much. They met a whole lot of people and got a nice taste of the community spirit that exists here.
The parade on Saturday was a lot of fun. We live one lot over from Main Street, so I was able to haul fairly comfortable patio furniture over to a great vantage point at the corner of my street. My mother was even able to watch the parade from an upstairs window, and I was glad all of us got to see it. The crowd was pretty thick where we were sitting, and there was quite a buzz in the air before the parade began. I warned my son in advance that he'd see a lot of tractors - it's all part of the rural experience. He and his wife loved the Lion's float that had a small skating rink on it - what could be more Canadian, right? Miraculously, the grey clouds held onto their contents until a few minutes after the parade ended. In sixty one years the Atwood Canada Day parade has never been rained out - which is really kind of amazing!
Saturday night was another night I didn't have to cook supper. (How great is that? I only made supper once all weekend!) We all went to the community center for a pork chop supper. My older son doesn't even like pork chops, but he liked those pork chops! They were delicious! And when you consider the town served more dinners than it has inhabitants that's pretty impressive! After supper my mother and I sat outside waiting for the kids to finish eating so they could drive her home, and we ended up talking for almost an hour with a nice couple who live on a farm in the area. (My mother was really impressed with the friendliness of the people she met.)
Finally Saturday night came and we walked a whole ten minutes across town to see a pretty impressive fireworks display. Once again crowds were out in full force and people called out to friends and visited with one another.
The weekend was a rousing success in my opinion. I think my son and his wife got to see Atwood at its finest - celebrating together.
Canada is a very welcoming and inclusive country, and my community is very Canadian that way. They welcome the newbies. They try to be neighbourly. They pull together to make special days even more special.
Atwood does a lot of things right, but they do Canada Day best.
For this celebration
our town is red and white -
birthday of our nation -
we have to do it right!
Canada Day in Atwood -
the whole town is abuzz!
The rain holds off as it should -
it cannot rain because
we have planned a big parade
to celebrate this day!
Lots of effort has been made
and now it's time to play!
Sirens can be heard now
firetrucks flash their lights
parade's beginning - oh wow!
I sit and watch the sights.
Cars from every decade,
trucks and tractors too,
all with Maple Leaf displayed
it seems the thing to do.
Floats are quite creative,
one has both pool and rink,
For "our home and native"
that fits, don't you think?
Pipers pipe and horses trot
along the parade route.
Eyes all watch from chosen spot -
'cause everyone is out!
Lion's Park is busy -
activities abound.
Crowds almost make me dizzy,
the whole town hangs around.
Hundreds eat together,
they visit and they chat.
All speak of the weather -
"What do you think of that?
Rain has held off for parade
for sixty years straight!
And clear skies for fireworks!
I can hardly wait!"
Rural celebrations?
Some are bound to scoff.
But no exaggeration -
Atwood pulls it off!
Little town with big heart -
I'm glad you took me in.
Celebrating is an art -
and this town takes the win!
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, July 5, 2017
Almost a year ago I moved to a small mid-western Ontario town. After months of looking we'd found the property we were looking for, and my only reservation about making the move was going to such a small town. Atwood Ontario isn't particularly pretty. Its streets aren't lined with quaint little shops and restaurants, and it doesn't have a ton of amenities to offer. Could I be happy there? Would I go stir crazy?
I quickly learned that this town has a few things more important than a grocery store or a lot of kitschy shops. It has friendly people. It has community spirit. It has heart.
Things happen here. Community events are well attended. People take the time to get to know their neighbours. The people of Atwood care about their community and work together to make things happen here.
I've lived in a lot of different places over the years, but I've never seen a community put as much into a Canada Day celebration as this one does. An entire weekend full of events was planned months in advance. People in town decorated their yards with red and white flowers and flags and signs, and Main Street had commemorative Canada 150 banners hung out.
Thursday night kicked off the celebrations with two different parties. At the community center there was a dance with a live band geared toward older adults. Attendance wasn't quite as high as had been hoped, but those who came had a good time and I think this event will gain popularity in the coming years. Outside, in the tennis courts, there was a video dance for the young (and young at heart). Friday night was wing night at the Lion's Park. (No cooking for me!) A local band began playing at about 7:30, and a tent was set up where children could watch videos. I didn't do a head count, but there was quite a crowd. Everyone enjoyed their wings and seemed to be having fun socializing and listening to the music.
My younger son and daughter-in-law arrived from Boston on Wednesday night and were enthusiastic about going to wing night and enjoying the Canada Day celebrations with us on Saturday. I think now they're beginning to understand why we like it here so much. They met a whole lot of people and got a nice taste of the community spirit that exists here.
The parade on Saturday was a lot of fun. We live one lot over from Main Street, so I was able to haul fairly comfortable patio furniture over to a great vantage point at the corner of my street. My mother was even able to watch the parade from an upstairs window, and I was glad all of us got to see it. The crowd was pretty thick where we were sitting, and there was quite a buzz in the air before the parade began. I warned my son in advance that he'd see a lot of tractors - it's all part of the rural experience. He and his wife loved the Lion's float that had a small skating rink on it - what could be more Canadian, right? Miraculously, the grey clouds held onto their contents until a few minutes after the parade ended. In sixty one years the Atwood Canada Day parade has never been rained out - which is really kind of amazing!
Saturday night was another night I didn't have to cook supper. (How great is that? I only made supper once all weekend!) We all went to the community center for a pork chop supper. My older son doesn't even like pork chops, but he liked those pork chops! They were delicious! And when you consider the town served more dinners than it has inhabitants that's pretty impressive! After supper my mother and I sat outside waiting for the kids to finish eating so they could drive her home, and we ended up talking for almost an hour with a nice couple who live on a farm in the area. (My mother was really impressed with the friendliness of the people she met.)
Finally Saturday night came and we walked a whole ten minutes across town to see a pretty impressive fireworks display. Once again crowds were out in full force and people called out to friends and visited with one another.
The weekend was a rousing success in my opinion. I think my son and his wife got to see Atwood at its finest - celebrating together.
Canada is a very welcoming and inclusive country, and my community is very Canadian that way. They welcome the newbies. They try to be neighbourly. They pull together to make special days even more special.
Atwood does a lot of things right, but they do Canada Day best.
Thursday, 15 June 2017
Friendship Defined - by Sharon Flood Kasenberg
Friendship Defined
Reciprocal treatment -
that's how it's defined -
respect for opinions
not always aligned.
Whatever you dish out
you ought to expect;
and sometimes behaviors
you need to correct.
Not once will I tell you
we'll always agree -
and I will assume
I am free to be me.
I don't believe friendship
is tied up in strings -
we really don't need to
like all the same things.
If you can't respect me
for not telling lies,
or never pretending
or donning disguise,
then I am mistaken
in calling you "friend" -
and your definition
I can't comprehend.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, June 2017
I value friendships. As far as I'm concerned, if you were ever my friend I'm prepared to keep on caring about you. It doesn't really matter that we've lived different lives and gone in different directions for decades - if I once enjoyed your company I'm happy enough to keep considering you my friend.
Liking people isn't all that hard. Some are easy to like because they're kind. Others have undeniably admirable traits - like honesty, or compassion. Sometimes you feel drawn to people because they are witty and amusing, or because they are brilliant conversationalists. Common experiences can bring people together, as can common interests or simple physical proximity. I don't expect all of my neighbours to become close friends, but I'm sure appreciative when they're consistently friendly. (Thank you, Atwood neighbours!)
I don't have strict criteria for friendship - you don't need to be the same age as me, the same size as me, or go to the same church as me. You don't need to vote for the same political party. But you do need to give me the right to be who I am. You do need to accept that I'm not going to pretend to agree with you when I don't. I promise I'll do the same for you.
I try to view the people I meet as potential friends. In my experience, first impressions don't matter all that much. Some people, who I didn't like all that much when we first met, ended up becoming good friends. Other times, those who seemed like they could become great friends just didn't seem like a very good fit when I got to know them better. Therefore I try not to be too hasty about deciding who might become a friend - you just never know who might end up winning you over with their kindness or generosity.
I'm a pretty outspoken person, but I try to be diplomatic. I know certain areas of conversation are dicey with most people. I understand that there are boundaries that shouldn't be crossed. Sadly, I've come to understand that a lot of people don't understand the reciprocal nature of friendship, so I'm going to lay out what I see as a few very basic suggestions to keep friendships harmonious.
1) Family is Sacred
There's truth to the statement that blood is thicker than water. We all have family problems at times, and while a friend may vent about children or spouse, it's never wise to add your own two cents worth. I call it "The Family Rule" - I can complain about my husband or kids, but you can't. Oh, you can make sympathetic noises and say things like, "That doesn't seem fair!" or, "I'd feel the same way", or talk about how you experienced something similar with your husband or child once. But as soon as you say something along the lines of, "Well, I always knew your kid was weird" or, "I think your husband would be a better person if...", you've crossed a line. I don't know why this rule isn't obvious to everybody. (By the way, family has a hierarchy. A sibling should never be too critical of another sibling's spouse or child, or they risk damaging relationships.)
Unless you're open to the idea of a free-for-all, button your lips.
Family comes first - always. I once had a friend get angry with me when I politely stated disagreement with an ideology he was aggressively arguing for. (This was labeled an "attack".) In the meantime, this person had the gall to give me a rather scathing analysis of close members of my family, including people he'd never met, and thought nothing of it. Needless to say, when the individual concerned was completely unapologetic, in spite of the fact that I'd expressed how hurt I was by these comments, the friendship was over. I could live with the fact that we didn't see eye to eye, but simply couldn't condone his treatment, and harsh criticism, of my family.
2) Criticism isn't a One Way Street
If you feel free to criticize your friends then you should be able to accept criticism from them. This is a pretty basic extension of the "Do unto others" rule. I have strong opinions about many things, but - by golly, I try to reign them in - not offer them up too freely. Yet somehow, I'm often left feeling that a whole lot of people seem to see me as an improvement project - a weak-willed woman who is just begging to be critiqued and advised. If I ask for your opinion on my make-up, my parenting, my fashion sense...feel free to offer it. But the way I see it, if I can manage to not be too critical, you should be able to manage it too. Compliments go a whole lot farther than criticism.
3) Respect Matters
I've always maintained that friends don't need to agree on everything. You don't need to accept my political views, but I'd rather not be told that I'm stupid for having my own ideas about what I like or dislike. (Stupid isn't a word I toss around lightly, and so it's best that you don't lob it at me.) I'd rather not hear people labeled "precious little snowflakes" because they find some things objectionable. You can hold to your own opinions, but be kind about it.
4) Don't be Hypocritical
If you're the kind of person who can easily adopt a redneck persona and a Popeye "I yam what I yam" attitude, you better be prepared to get back what you dish out. If you want to be accepted for what you are, you need to be prepared to be accepting of others. If you don't want honest answers, don't ask. Don't invite discussion if you can't handle contrary opinions. Don't claim friendship while refusing to engage. Don't complain about others taking offense if you're quick to be offended too.
5) Let People Feel What They Feel
Some people have a hard time expressing emotion, and others don't. I laugh and cry easily. I laugh at lame jokes and cry over television programs. I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable, however, it doesn't mean I'm emotionally unstable. If I can't laugh and cry in front of you without ridicule, we can't be friends.
Sometimes we're all poor communicators and simply can't find the right words. It's better to say nothing, and let your actions speak for you, than to speak hastily and thoughtlessly.
"You shouldn't feel that way!" is a phrase nobody ever wants to hear. We all have a right to feel sad sometimes; to shed tears of frustration, or to get angry every now and then. Go ahead and let out a cathartic expletive when you break something or burn your supper - I won't judge you for it. I won't tell you that you shouldn't feel depressed or anxious either. When you talk to me, I know you aren't putting the burden of "fixing" you on my shoulders. All we need to do when friends get emotional is listen - maybe offer encouragement, and pass the tissues!
6) Be Loyal
Let your friends know you care about them. Be there when they need you, and let them know you appreciate them. Stand up for them when they feel misunderstood. Be tolerant of their imperfections. Be happy for them when they succeed, and be sympathetic when they don't. Be available when they need to talk, and listen before you reply. Keep their secrets. Be forgiving - everybody has an off day every now and then. Apologize when you're wrong. Build up their confidence when it lags. Speak kindly of them in front of others.
Friendship takes time.
I'm not a person who trusts easily. I've had my share of disappointment from friends who couldn't seem to grasp a few simple friendship standards that seem intuitive to me. I don't expect to meet people and feel immediate intimacy. Finding friends you can trust is worth the investment of time and patience it requires.
When you open yourself to friendship you take risks. You offer a little bit of your heart and hope that the other party will do the same in return. You hope you can become a trusted confidant, a listening ear, and a strong shoulder to cry on. You hope that whatever you have to offer will be appreciated - and yes, eventually rewarded with reciprocal offerings.
I am grateful to all of the people in my life who have offered sincere friendship. I'm not always easy to love, but I'm loyal. I have your back. If you love me, you can rest assured that I'll love you back. I'm happy to return kindness for kindness.
Whatever you have to offer, I'll try to reciprocate - because that's what friendship is.
Reciprocal treatment -
that's how it's defined -
respect for opinions
not always aligned.
Whatever you dish out
you ought to expect;
and sometimes behaviors
you need to correct.
Not once will I tell you
we'll always agree -
and I will assume
I am free to be me.
I don't believe friendship
is tied up in strings -
we really don't need to
like all the same things.
If you can't respect me
for not telling lies,
or never pretending
or donning disguise,
then I am mistaken
in calling you "friend" -
and your definition
I can't comprehend.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, June 2017
I value friendships. As far as I'm concerned, if you were ever my friend I'm prepared to keep on caring about you. It doesn't really matter that we've lived different lives and gone in different directions for decades - if I once enjoyed your company I'm happy enough to keep considering you my friend.
Liking people isn't all that hard. Some are easy to like because they're kind. Others have undeniably admirable traits - like honesty, or compassion. Sometimes you feel drawn to people because they are witty and amusing, or because they are brilliant conversationalists. Common experiences can bring people together, as can common interests or simple physical proximity. I don't expect all of my neighbours to become close friends, but I'm sure appreciative when they're consistently friendly. (Thank you, Atwood neighbours!)
I don't have strict criteria for friendship - you don't need to be the same age as me, the same size as me, or go to the same church as me. You don't need to vote for the same political party. But you do need to give me the right to be who I am. You do need to accept that I'm not going to pretend to agree with you when I don't. I promise I'll do the same for you.
I try to view the people I meet as potential friends. In my experience, first impressions don't matter all that much. Some people, who I didn't like all that much when we first met, ended up becoming good friends. Other times, those who seemed like they could become great friends just didn't seem like a very good fit when I got to know them better. Therefore I try not to be too hasty about deciding who might become a friend - you just never know who might end up winning you over with their kindness or generosity.
I'm a pretty outspoken person, but I try to be diplomatic. I know certain areas of conversation are dicey with most people. I understand that there are boundaries that shouldn't be crossed. Sadly, I've come to understand that a lot of people don't understand the reciprocal nature of friendship, so I'm going to lay out what I see as a few very basic suggestions to keep friendships harmonious.
1) Family is Sacred
There's truth to the statement that blood is thicker than water. We all have family problems at times, and while a friend may vent about children or spouse, it's never wise to add your own two cents worth. I call it "The Family Rule" - I can complain about my husband or kids, but you can't. Oh, you can make sympathetic noises and say things like, "That doesn't seem fair!" or, "I'd feel the same way", or talk about how you experienced something similar with your husband or child once. But as soon as you say something along the lines of, "Well, I always knew your kid was weird" or, "I think your husband would be a better person if...", you've crossed a line. I don't know why this rule isn't obvious to everybody. (By the way, family has a hierarchy. A sibling should never be too critical of another sibling's spouse or child, or they risk damaging relationships.)
Unless you're open to the idea of a free-for-all, button your lips.
Family comes first - always. I once had a friend get angry with me when I politely stated disagreement with an ideology he was aggressively arguing for. (This was labeled an "attack".) In the meantime, this person had the gall to give me a rather scathing analysis of close members of my family, including people he'd never met, and thought nothing of it. Needless to say, when the individual concerned was completely unapologetic, in spite of the fact that I'd expressed how hurt I was by these comments, the friendship was over. I could live with the fact that we didn't see eye to eye, but simply couldn't condone his treatment, and harsh criticism, of my family.
2) Criticism isn't a One Way Street
If you feel free to criticize your friends then you should be able to accept criticism from them. This is a pretty basic extension of the "Do unto others" rule. I have strong opinions about many things, but - by golly, I try to reign them in - not offer them up too freely. Yet somehow, I'm often left feeling that a whole lot of people seem to see me as an improvement project - a weak-willed woman who is just begging to be critiqued and advised. If I ask for your opinion on my make-up, my parenting, my fashion sense...feel free to offer it. But the way I see it, if I can manage to not be too critical, you should be able to manage it too. Compliments go a whole lot farther than criticism.
3) Respect Matters
I've always maintained that friends don't need to agree on everything. You don't need to accept my political views, but I'd rather not be told that I'm stupid for having my own ideas about what I like or dislike. (Stupid isn't a word I toss around lightly, and so it's best that you don't lob it at me.) I'd rather not hear people labeled "precious little snowflakes" because they find some things objectionable. You can hold to your own opinions, but be kind about it.
4) Don't be Hypocritical
If you're the kind of person who can easily adopt a redneck persona and a Popeye "I yam what I yam" attitude, you better be prepared to get back what you dish out. If you want to be accepted for what you are, you need to be prepared to be accepting of others. If you don't want honest answers, don't ask. Don't invite discussion if you can't handle contrary opinions. Don't claim friendship while refusing to engage. Don't complain about others taking offense if you're quick to be offended too.
5) Let People Feel What They Feel
Some people have a hard time expressing emotion, and others don't. I laugh and cry easily. I laugh at lame jokes and cry over television programs. I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable, however, it doesn't mean I'm emotionally unstable. If I can't laugh and cry in front of you without ridicule, we can't be friends.
Sometimes we're all poor communicators and simply can't find the right words. It's better to say nothing, and let your actions speak for you, than to speak hastily and thoughtlessly.
"You shouldn't feel that way!" is a phrase nobody ever wants to hear. We all have a right to feel sad sometimes; to shed tears of frustration, or to get angry every now and then. Go ahead and let out a cathartic expletive when you break something or burn your supper - I won't judge you for it. I won't tell you that you shouldn't feel depressed or anxious either. When you talk to me, I know you aren't putting the burden of "fixing" you on my shoulders. All we need to do when friends get emotional is listen - maybe offer encouragement, and pass the tissues!
6) Be Loyal
Let your friends know you care about them. Be there when they need you, and let them know you appreciate them. Stand up for them when they feel misunderstood. Be tolerant of their imperfections. Be happy for them when they succeed, and be sympathetic when they don't. Be available when they need to talk, and listen before you reply. Keep their secrets. Be forgiving - everybody has an off day every now and then. Apologize when you're wrong. Build up their confidence when it lags. Speak kindly of them in front of others.
Friendship takes time.
I'm not a person who trusts easily. I've had my share of disappointment from friends who couldn't seem to grasp a few simple friendship standards that seem intuitive to me. I don't expect to meet people and feel immediate intimacy. Finding friends you can trust is worth the investment of time and patience it requires.
When you open yourself to friendship you take risks. You offer a little bit of your heart and hope that the other party will do the same in return. You hope you can become a trusted confidant, a listening ear, and a strong shoulder to cry on. You hope that whatever you have to offer will be appreciated - and yes, eventually rewarded with reciprocal offerings.
I am grateful to all of the people in my life who have offered sincere friendship. I'm not always easy to love, but I'm loyal. I have your back. If you love me, you can rest assured that I'll love you back. I'm happy to return kindness for kindness.
Whatever you have to offer, I'll try to reciprocate - because that's what friendship is.
Friday, 2 June 2017
The Things We Think We've Lost - By Sharon Flood Kasenberg
The Things We Think We've Lost
No grief we bear could ever be as bad
as losing something that we never had.
Reality cannot maintain the gloss
of golden coloured dreams made out of dross,
and history in truth appears quite mean
compared to visions of "what might have been."
Thus no real loss in life is ever grieved
so much as all the falseness we believed -
and nothing else could ever match the cost
of all those things we think we might have lost.
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, December 2006
These past few days I've been contemplating what to share in this blog post. (Sometimes I know as soon as I've put up one post what I'll be sharing next, and other times - like now - I spend days mulling over what I might share.) As I reviewed my poetry books to find some rhyming tidbit that would send my Muse in the right direction, I re-read this verse and it hit a nerve.
We endure a lot of loss over the course of a lifetime. A lot of these loses are undeniable. People die. Fortunes are lost. People lose arms, legs, mental capacity, and senses. Some will lose eyesight, others their ability to hear the world around them. These are the kinds of losses that deserve to be mourned. When these things happen, we know life will never be the same. We will hopefully learn to adapt to our changed circumstances, but it won't be easy. We'll wake up for months or years knowing that we have a struggle ahead of us - another day to slog through in hopes of seeing some small bit of progress. We'll be sad for a long time.
But sometimes we're too quick to mourn and resign ourselves to sadness. Consider the following statements:
"I lost confidence."
"I lost my nerve."
"I lost my talent."
"I lost my will to keep going."
"I lost hope."
"I lost my youthfulness." (Or "my figure")
"I lost my mind."
"I lost my heart."
"I lost faith."
"I lost it." (We want control - right? No displays of temper or tears!)
It's likely we've all said these things - or made similar comments. I doubt that I'm alone in thinking these defeatist thoughts and complaining about things I don't seem to have anymore. One bad experience, one broken relationship, one little setback on the career front, one little temper tantrum - and we're ready to throw in the towel. We'll be full of regret as we trudge along, thoroughly convinced that we've lost something that can't ever be replaced.
As I read through old poems today I saw a lot of that kind of regret. I'm too quick to raise up lamentations. No - I don't look as good as I did half a lifetime ago. Yup - I'm a few sizes bigger than I was a decade ago. And I probably lose my temper too often, and sometimes I think I'm losing my mind...but what have I really lost? My face has aged - and I should be glad I've lived long enough to see a wrinkle or two. My body has changed - but it's strong and healthy. My mind might be less sharp than it was, but who doesn't suffer from an occasional middle-aged moment in their mid-fifties? Maybe I'll suffer the odd blow to my ego that will make me lose confidence, nerve, or faith in myself - for a while. I might lose my cool today, but I might shock myself with my ability to be calm and in control tomorrow. Here today, gone tomorrow can just as easily be gone today, here tomorrow.
Confidence can come back - just as easily as you lose your nerve you can find it again - with the right motivation. Hope, heart, faith, determination - you can find them all, time and time again, if you're willing to keep looking. Like so many other things in life, these losses are a matter of perception and attitude. We "lose" these things because we tell ourselves we've lost them.
On the other hand, a lot of the things we get really bent out of shape over "losing" were never ours in the first place.
You can't really lose your heart. As long as it beats you've got another crack at love.
You can't lose a race. When you enter a race, and you win, place, or cross the finish line long after the onlookers have thinned, you don't lose. Losing only happens when you talked yourself out of competing in the first place - when you say, "I could never do that." Or tell yourself, "I'm not good enough..." Trust me - opportunities are something you can lose, but they aren't limited. They're like buses - if you miss one, there's always another - eventually. You never know what lies in store - Whistler's mother probably never suspected she'd become a painter when her son was just a tyke.
You might lose faith in one thing only to discover that you have truckloads of faith in something else. Likewise, you can lose faith in one person, but learn that most of humanity is pretty decent. I don't believe that people suddenly lose faith in everything - we just take the faith we've always had and reinvest it somewhere else.
You can't lose a chance if you never had a chance in the first place. You can't lose confidence if you never had it either. And if you ever had it, it will come back when you least expect it to.
You can give in to all of your regrets - and waste years regretting all your wasted years. But isn't it better to just forgive yourself and forge ahead? Life is wasted when we dwell on self recriminations. It's too easy to fixate on the "could haves and should haves" instead of staying focused on what we can do now to prevent more regrets tomorrow.
Years ago you probably cried hardest when you thought the guy who broke up with you was a better catch than he actually was. You got angry when you thought you were going to get the promotion. You became depressed and anxious because you thought life was going to go a lot smoother than it did. But truthfully, that guy never deserved you, the person who got the promotion was a shoo-in before the job was even posted, and if you'd been paying attention to the road ahead - instead of feeling entitled to a life of ease - you would've seen the potholes before they bottomed out your soul.
Cynics will tell you that reality bites, but I'm here to tell you the opposite. Reality can, should be, and sometimes even IS, pretty great. It's worth the effort to spend time engaged with reality. It's our own grandiose imaginations, and the expectations they create, that make us perceive losses in our lives where there are none. Our manufactured illusions (and delusions) are the hardest things to part with.
When I was a child I believed in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy. Then I gradually realized that my parents were responsible for all the Christmas gifts I got, all the quarters under my pillow, and all the treats I got at Easter. I might've been a bit let down for a while, but my parents were probably a bit sad that I figured it out too. After all, pretending was fun for all of us. But once I discovered that my parents were the ones making the necessary efforts and sacrifices, I learned the valuable lesson of gratitude. I began to understand why I might not get the expensive items I requested - they had six kids and limited resources. They didn't always hit the gift-giving nail on the head, but they tried. And when I got exactly what I wanted or needed, I knew who to thank.
You aren't perfect, your spouse isn't perfect, and your life is probably far from ideal. (Nobody's life is, no matter how good it looks on social media.) You won't likely get everything you think you want. The extravagant, pie-in-the-sky items on your wish list might not ever appear. So where does that leave you?
It doesn't leave you anywhere. It puts you right where you are, here and now. It makes you one of the vast populace of ordinary people who just keep trying to get their lives right. Maybe you like where you are, and maybe you don't. If you do, stay put. If you don't, change something. Find another vantage point if you can't go where the scenery is more appealing. Adjust your way of looking at the world.
There's plenty of happiness and success, however you define those words, to go around. Maybe you think that because someone else seems to be winning at life, you must be losing. What we all need to remember is that there are infinite ways to "win", and the points that somebody else scores today don't subtract from the points you can possibly rack up tomorrow.
So embrace life as it is. Look in the mirror and be happy with the body you have today. Be happy with who you are now, even though you're not perfect. Give your imperfect spouse a big kiss and be grateful that they like you enough to hang around. Then get out there and engage with the great big imperfect world. You might even find a few ways to improve it!
Life isn't over. You're doing better than you thought, and you have most of what you need. Your life isn't about losing - it's about what you're finding, discovering and becoming.
You're going to win.
No grief we bear could ever be as bad
as losing something that we never had.
Reality cannot maintain the gloss
of golden coloured dreams made out of dross,
and history in truth appears quite mean
compared to visions of "what might have been."
Thus no real loss in life is ever grieved
so much as all the falseness we believed -
and nothing else could ever match the cost
of all those things we think we might have lost.
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, December 2006
These past few days I've been contemplating what to share in this blog post. (Sometimes I know as soon as I've put up one post what I'll be sharing next, and other times - like now - I spend days mulling over what I might share.) As I reviewed my poetry books to find some rhyming tidbit that would send my Muse in the right direction, I re-read this verse and it hit a nerve.
We endure a lot of loss over the course of a lifetime. A lot of these loses are undeniable. People die. Fortunes are lost. People lose arms, legs, mental capacity, and senses. Some will lose eyesight, others their ability to hear the world around them. These are the kinds of losses that deserve to be mourned. When these things happen, we know life will never be the same. We will hopefully learn to adapt to our changed circumstances, but it won't be easy. We'll wake up for months or years knowing that we have a struggle ahead of us - another day to slog through in hopes of seeing some small bit of progress. We'll be sad for a long time.
But sometimes we're too quick to mourn and resign ourselves to sadness. Consider the following statements:
"I lost confidence."
"I lost my nerve."
"I lost my talent."
"I lost my will to keep going."
"I lost hope."
"I lost my youthfulness." (Or "my figure")
"I lost my mind."
"I lost my heart."
"I lost faith."
"I lost it." (We want control - right? No displays of temper or tears!)
It's likely we've all said these things - or made similar comments. I doubt that I'm alone in thinking these defeatist thoughts and complaining about things I don't seem to have anymore. One bad experience, one broken relationship, one little setback on the career front, one little temper tantrum - and we're ready to throw in the towel. We'll be full of regret as we trudge along, thoroughly convinced that we've lost something that can't ever be replaced.
As I read through old poems today I saw a lot of that kind of regret. I'm too quick to raise up lamentations. No - I don't look as good as I did half a lifetime ago. Yup - I'm a few sizes bigger than I was a decade ago. And I probably lose my temper too often, and sometimes I think I'm losing my mind...but what have I really lost? My face has aged - and I should be glad I've lived long enough to see a wrinkle or two. My body has changed - but it's strong and healthy. My mind might be less sharp than it was, but who doesn't suffer from an occasional middle-aged moment in their mid-fifties? Maybe I'll suffer the odd blow to my ego that will make me lose confidence, nerve, or faith in myself - for a while. I might lose my cool today, but I might shock myself with my ability to be calm and in control tomorrow. Here today, gone tomorrow can just as easily be gone today, here tomorrow.
Confidence can come back - just as easily as you lose your nerve you can find it again - with the right motivation. Hope, heart, faith, determination - you can find them all, time and time again, if you're willing to keep looking. Like so many other things in life, these losses are a matter of perception and attitude. We "lose" these things because we tell ourselves we've lost them.
On the other hand, a lot of the things we get really bent out of shape over "losing" were never ours in the first place.
You can't really lose your heart. As long as it beats you've got another crack at love.
You can't lose a race. When you enter a race, and you win, place, or cross the finish line long after the onlookers have thinned, you don't lose. Losing only happens when you talked yourself out of competing in the first place - when you say, "I could never do that." Or tell yourself, "I'm not good enough..." Trust me - opportunities are something you can lose, but they aren't limited. They're like buses - if you miss one, there's always another - eventually. You never know what lies in store - Whistler's mother probably never suspected she'd become a painter when her son was just a tyke.
You might lose faith in one thing only to discover that you have truckloads of faith in something else. Likewise, you can lose faith in one person, but learn that most of humanity is pretty decent. I don't believe that people suddenly lose faith in everything - we just take the faith we've always had and reinvest it somewhere else.
You can't lose a chance if you never had a chance in the first place. You can't lose confidence if you never had it either. And if you ever had it, it will come back when you least expect it to.
You can give in to all of your regrets - and waste years regretting all your wasted years. But isn't it better to just forgive yourself and forge ahead? Life is wasted when we dwell on self recriminations. It's too easy to fixate on the "could haves and should haves" instead of staying focused on what we can do now to prevent more regrets tomorrow.
Years ago you probably cried hardest when you thought the guy who broke up with you was a better catch than he actually was. You got angry when you thought you were going to get the promotion. You became depressed and anxious because you thought life was going to go a lot smoother than it did. But truthfully, that guy never deserved you, the person who got the promotion was a shoo-in before the job was even posted, and if you'd been paying attention to the road ahead - instead of feeling entitled to a life of ease - you would've seen the potholes before they bottomed out your soul.
Cynics will tell you that reality bites, but I'm here to tell you the opposite. Reality can, should be, and sometimes even IS, pretty great. It's worth the effort to spend time engaged with reality. It's our own grandiose imaginations, and the expectations they create, that make us perceive losses in our lives where there are none. Our manufactured illusions (and delusions) are the hardest things to part with.
When I was a child I believed in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy. Then I gradually realized that my parents were responsible for all the Christmas gifts I got, all the quarters under my pillow, and all the treats I got at Easter. I might've been a bit let down for a while, but my parents were probably a bit sad that I figured it out too. After all, pretending was fun for all of us. But once I discovered that my parents were the ones making the necessary efforts and sacrifices, I learned the valuable lesson of gratitude. I began to understand why I might not get the expensive items I requested - they had six kids and limited resources. They didn't always hit the gift-giving nail on the head, but they tried. And when I got exactly what I wanted or needed, I knew who to thank.
You aren't perfect, your spouse isn't perfect, and your life is probably far from ideal. (Nobody's life is, no matter how good it looks on social media.) You won't likely get everything you think you want. The extravagant, pie-in-the-sky items on your wish list might not ever appear. So where does that leave you?
It doesn't leave you anywhere. It puts you right where you are, here and now. It makes you one of the vast populace of ordinary people who just keep trying to get their lives right. Maybe you like where you are, and maybe you don't. If you do, stay put. If you don't, change something. Find another vantage point if you can't go where the scenery is more appealing. Adjust your way of looking at the world.
There's plenty of happiness and success, however you define those words, to go around. Maybe you think that because someone else seems to be winning at life, you must be losing. What we all need to remember is that there are infinite ways to "win", and the points that somebody else scores today don't subtract from the points you can possibly rack up tomorrow.
So embrace life as it is. Look in the mirror and be happy with the body you have today. Be happy with who you are now, even though you're not perfect. Give your imperfect spouse a big kiss and be grateful that they like you enough to hang around. Then get out there and engage with the great big imperfect world. You might even find a few ways to improve it!
Life isn't over. You're doing better than you thought, and you have most of what you need. Your life isn't about losing - it's about what you're finding, discovering and becoming.
You're going to win.
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