Pandemic Math
Formulate a new equation,
calculate a way to cope;
isolate from new contagion,
tabulate what offers hope.
Subtract all selfishness and greed,
react with added kindness -
Impact the world by meeting need;
extract your urge to blindness.
Division isn't what's required -
derision must be bested.
Decisions should be more inspired;
revision is requested.
Exemplify: All must attempt
to multiply endeavour.
We must comply - none are exempt.
Do or die - now, or never.
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, March 23, 2020
My world has changed over the past ten days, as a crisis that seemed terrible, but was comfortably far from home, suddenly crashed my comfort zone.
I paid very little attention to the novel Coronavirus (cause of COVID-19) until Northern Italy started going into lockdown. Messaging with Nico, the student we hosted from Genoa, made me begin to consider the life changes a pandemic initiates.
"We go nowhere now - except my parents go to work," he told me.
As the horror stories from Italy began to mount, so did my concerns for Nico, and for his parents who are both nurses.
Then, almost overnight I began to witness panic buying in the stores. The virus was moving much closer to home, and the people around me were divided - some still claiming this was nothing but another flu bug, others hunkering down into full-out survivalist mode. Essential products disappeared from grocery store shelves for days on end as hoarders stockpiled ridiculous amounts of toilet paper, cleaning products, paper towels and bread...every day seemed to bring a run on new items.
That's when I realized that we need to develop new types of mathematics to help us live peacefully within society during these days of social distancing, self-isolation, and quarantines. I'll elaborate on a few of the equations I've been working out as I try to solve the problems that this unique situation has presented.
Toilet Paper Math
I never would've imagined the day would come when news of a pandemic would send people out in droves to stock up on bottom wipes. It's ironic to me that toilet paper - which has seemingly become the ultimate symbol of civilization - has caused such incredible scenes of incivility at Costcos and Walmarts around the globe! Apparently a lot of people think they need to have enough on hand to last a decade. Either that, or they have never consciously considered how much they actually need to get through a few weeks.
I live in a household with four toilets and five adults, and based on how much is left from the thirty roll package I bought two weeks ago we have enough left to last us another 14 - 16 days. Thankfully stores have begun to limit how much of it you can buy, so when we start to run out I should be able to buy another thirty roll package and rest easy for another month, without worrying that some nutter has emptied the shelves again for the sake of filling up another room with the stuff!
Newsflash: Hoarding is the reason we have disruptions in the supply chain!
If we all relax a bit - take stock of what we already have, plan how we will use it, and then buy only what we really need in order to get through the next few weeks - we will all manage to meet our needs sufficiently. We need to subtract our urge to look out for ourselves first, and add a little faith in each other into the mix when we calculate our needs. If we are really convinced that nobody will come to our aid when we are in dire need of something, then we are missing something in our lives that is far more important than toilet paper, Lysol or bread.
Household Harmony Math
Family members + boredom + staying inside = a whole lot of potential misery.
There are a few things we can subtract from this equation, and a few things we can add to it, in order to come up with a far more positive solution.
First, the subtractions. Some will disagree, but so far we haven't all been ordered to stay inside our homes, and daily walks have been my salvation. Take your kids outside. Let them run a bit and get some fresh air. I say take your kids outside because you want to be certain they are distancing themselves from anybody else who wants a bit of air and exercise. Take advantage of the fact that you are home too, and play with them.
Are your kids complaining of boredom? Add some conversation into the equation. Read a book together and discuss it, or start a discussion jar full of subjects that interest your kids. Research topics together. Add some stimulation to the mix - teach them a new skill, or play a new game with them. Challenge them to increase vocabulary by learning to use a new word each day. Teach them all the things you wish your parents had taught you - this is an ideal opportunity for learning and growing together, since there are fewer distractions. Share your thoughts on the pandemic. We often underestimate how capable our children are of understanding what's going on in the world around them. Add opportunities for them to share their thoughts, fears and feelings.
My children are grown, but every household has its challenges right now. We all need to multiply our efforts to be considerate of each other. Being largely housebound together is more familiarity than most of us really want, and familiarity does breed contempt. Share the chips and don't hog the cookies! Clean up after yourself! Become resigned to the fact that there might be a new division of labour as there are more bodies idling around the house at a time when disinfecting surfaces is necessary for everyone's health, and orderliness is vital to some people's sanity!
Social Distancing Math
Every person who comes within coughing distance of us increases our chances of not only becoming infected, but of turning us into a carrier who can, in turn, infect the people around us. The scariest thing about this slippery virus is its unpredictability. Severity varies greatly, with some cases being completely asymptomatic, some manifesting as a mild cold or flu, and others becoming critical or fatal. Some might try to justify visits with friends and recreational shopping trips by saying, "Why not? We're young and healthy! You can't really expect us to completely stop hanging out with all our friends?"
Sorry kids, but that's exactly what most of us expect. I don't want to see you shopping with your friends for everyone's sake. Maybe controversially, I don't want to see your whole family - dad, mom, kids - in the essential stores. They've stopped that in Italy. We probably should do that voluntarily now too.
None of us are safe in making the assumption that we are virus-free, which is why social distancing measures have been recommended. Now is not the time for hugs and handshakes. Connect with your family and friends, but do it safely! My son has had a cold, and I haven't touched him in over a week. (I'll really enjoy hugging him again.) I haven't gotten within six feet of any of my friends since my last Toastmasters meeting eleven days ago - and even then we kept our distance from each other and only elbow bumped.
I have been dismayed, on the few occasions that I've ventured out to buy necessities, with the number of people who aren't taking social distancing seriously - the folks who stand too close behind you at the check outs or brush by you in the aisles. Really people! I'm basically treating everyone as though they might have the plague right now, and I'd prefer that you treat me like I'm a walking batch of contagion too!
We're all feeling the distance right now, but our loneliness has a purpose. We are being given an opportunity to help each other in the most important way possible - to potentially save lives by avoiding close interaction. It's a dose of loneliness and boredom for a noble cause, and simply not being able to be physically close to others is no reason to wallow in our misery. Connect with your people! Take up thy phone and TALK!
I go on a lot of rants about people being too chained to their electronic devices, but now is the time to use our technology to meaningfully connect. I am so grateful to live in an era that has provided me with ways to instantly message friends and relatives from afar; to see their faces and hear their voices. It is wonderful to be able to exchange voice messages with "my" boys in Brazil and have them thank me for giving them an opportunity to practice their English, or to share a joke and see that LOL pop up - or it's Brazilian equivalent - KKKKK.
Multiply your efforts to be kind, to express gratitude and show compassion. Say please, thank you, I'm sorry, and be especially liberal with the words, "I love you".
Let your words be the hugs you cannot give. Life will improve exponentially if we all stop looking at our sacrifices as a zero sum game. None of us are alone in our isolation.
Me = Us. All of us are alone together. Stay safe and be kind : )
Monday, 23 March 2020
Friday, 28 February 2020
The Cure for Cabin Fever - By Sharon Flood Kasenberg
Cabin Fever!
I caught a common ailment
when forced to stay inside;
the snow came down profusely
and patience sorely tried.
The roads weren't safe to drive on;
high winds picked up the stuff,
and blew it willynilly
until I screamed, "Enough!
I'm getting tired of winter -
it's hard to navigate.
Another storm is coming -
I think I'll hibernate!
A day inside sounds lovely,
there isn't much to do...
I'll read and watch the telly - "
One day turns into two.
By day three I am fed up.
My books have all been read.
My screen time is excessive;
more days inside I dread!
I've now got cabin fever
and fear I'll go insane
if I don't take a shower
and indoors I remain.
I do not feel quite human -
my hygiene has decayed -
with others of my species
no contact have I made.
It's time to put my coat on
and into white world go -
to bundle up my body
and shovel out some snow.
The exercise will help me
clear cobwebs from my head.
I'm tired of doing nothing -
so I'll get tired instead!
These ailments caused by winter
are filled with irony -
we say we've got snow blindness
when snow is all we see.
And as for "cabin fever",
it's caused by what's outside.
When winter storms get ugly
we're caged where we reside.
When cage gets claustrophobic,
"hair of the dog" will cure -
We'll only feel improvement
when more snow we endure!
So put on boots and jacket
and go where you must go -
and cure your cabin fever
by going out in...snow.
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, Feb. 28th, 2020
The winds wail, and the trees blow as I sit and type. It's the third day of snow squalls in my little corner of the world, and I'm suffering from a full blown case of "Cabin Fever". Yesterday, few people ventured out - not even the snow plows - and a whole lot of us probably sat around in our bathrobes until noon. It was an easily justified decision - after all, none of our friends or neighbours were likely to just pop by, since they were all in hibernation mode too.
Yeah - some of the more industrious folk among us probably used the previous two snow days to clean house or get caught up on work they could do from home - but I doubt that I'm alone in spending too much time on my couch reading books and over-indulging in Netflix. You can start out a snowstorm with good intentions, but after a chore or two, it's pretty easy to ask yourself why you're bothering. Motivation wanes for a whole lot of us in the winter, and often completely disappears when you hear the words "snow day".
We Canadians are contrary creatures when it comes to winter. A whole lot of us complain endlessly about having to go out in the cold, but complain just as hard when we're told we should stay in. It's amazing how many things you suddenly feel that you need to do when you can't. Many will thoroughly relish a single day inside, but most will get restless on day two.
I can't speak for the masses, but I know that I have a harder time sleeping when I haven't been out of my house all day. So, by snow day number three I'm tired, cranky and looking a little unkempt. Yesterday I wrote myself a longish "to do" list, and woke up after another sketchy night's sleep feeling impatient to get on with it.
High on that list I've scrawled, "Go outside!" I shower so that I'll feel better if doing so puts me in anybody's path - but also because I'm tired of looking like someone who's been spending too much time wasting time.
I toss my final load of laundry in the dryer and head out to shovel the snow drifts that blocked my back door and left "get stuckable" drifts in the driveway that did manage to get plowed last night. My husband has just messaged me that he's on his way home from Mississauga, and after a white knuckle ride he'll appreciate having one less worry.
The snowy air feels crisp and clean, and I wonder why I didn't venture out sooner. My neighbour pulls into his driveway as I'm finishing up and offers to help me shovel. I tell him I'm just about finished touching up the drifted areas, and we chat for a few minutes before I head out for a short walk. On my way home, I stop by the Post Office, to find that it closed early because of the weather. I trudge home through the snow - still tired, but a bit less cranky.
I get home and finish the poem I started earlier. The ending is quite clear now that I've figured out how to survive "Cabin Fever". It suddenly seems obvious that after a few days of chilling inside my house I'm feeling better because I finally chilled out!
Winter in Ontario can feel endless, but it won't go away any faster if we hide ourselves away inside. It's worth the effort to bundle up and take a walk in the chilly air. Life is too short to stay inside, and hibernating is for bears.
I caught a common ailment
when forced to stay inside;
the snow came down profusely
and patience sorely tried.
The roads weren't safe to drive on;
high winds picked up the stuff,
and blew it willynilly
until I screamed, "Enough!
I'm getting tired of winter -
it's hard to navigate.
Another storm is coming -
I think I'll hibernate!
A day inside sounds lovely,
there isn't much to do...
I'll read and watch the telly - "
One day turns into two.
By day three I am fed up.
My books have all been read.
My screen time is excessive;
more days inside I dread!
I've now got cabin fever
and fear I'll go insane
if I don't take a shower
and indoors I remain.
I do not feel quite human -
my hygiene has decayed -
with others of my species
no contact have I made.
It's time to put my coat on
and into white world go -
to bundle up my body
and shovel out some snow.
The exercise will help me
clear cobwebs from my head.
I'm tired of doing nothing -
so I'll get tired instead!
These ailments caused by winter
are filled with irony -
we say we've got snow blindness
when snow is all we see.
And as for "cabin fever",
it's caused by what's outside.
When winter storms get ugly
we're caged where we reside.
When cage gets claustrophobic,
"hair of the dog" will cure -
We'll only feel improvement
when more snow we endure!
So put on boots and jacket
and go where you must go -
and cure your cabin fever
by going out in...snow.
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, Feb. 28th, 2020
The winds wail, and the trees blow as I sit and type. It's the third day of snow squalls in my little corner of the world, and I'm suffering from a full blown case of "Cabin Fever". Yesterday, few people ventured out - not even the snow plows - and a whole lot of us probably sat around in our bathrobes until noon. It was an easily justified decision - after all, none of our friends or neighbours were likely to just pop by, since they were all in hibernation mode too.
Yeah - some of the more industrious folk among us probably used the previous two snow days to clean house or get caught up on work they could do from home - but I doubt that I'm alone in spending too much time on my couch reading books and over-indulging in Netflix. You can start out a snowstorm with good intentions, but after a chore or two, it's pretty easy to ask yourself why you're bothering. Motivation wanes for a whole lot of us in the winter, and often completely disappears when you hear the words "snow day".
We Canadians are contrary creatures when it comes to winter. A whole lot of us complain endlessly about having to go out in the cold, but complain just as hard when we're told we should stay in. It's amazing how many things you suddenly feel that you need to do when you can't. Many will thoroughly relish a single day inside, but most will get restless on day two.
I can't speak for the masses, but I know that I have a harder time sleeping when I haven't been out of my house all day. So, by snow day number three I'm tired, cranky and looking a little unkempt. Yesterday I wrote myself a longish "to do" list, and woke up after another sketchy night's sleep feeling impatient to get on with it.
High on that list I've scrawled, "Go outside!" I shower so that I'll feel better if doing so puts me in anybody's path - but also because I'm tired of looking like someone who's been spending too much time wasting time.
I toss my final load of laundry in the dryer and head out to shovel the snow drifts that blocked my back door and left "get stuckable" drifts in the driveway that did manage to get plowed last night. My husband has just messaged me that he's on his way home from Mississauga, and after a white knuckle ride he'll appreciate having one less worry.
The snowy air feels crisp and clean, and I wonder why I didn't venture out sooner. My neighbour pulls into his driveway as I'm finishing up and offers to help me shovel. I tell him I'm just about finished touching up the drifted areas, and we chat for a few minutes before I head out for a short walk. On my way home, I stop by the Post Office, to find that it closed early because of the weather. I trudge home through the snow - still tired, but a bit less cranky.
I get home and finish the poem I started earlier. The ending is quite clear now that I've figured out how to survive "Cabin Fever". It suddenly seems obvious that after a few days of chilling inside my house I'm feeling better because I finally chilled out!
Winter in Ontario can feel endless, but it won't go away any faster if we hide ourselves away inside. It's worth the effort to bundle up and take a walk in the chilly air. Life is too short to stay inside, and hibernating is for bears.
Tuesday, 28 January 2020
Friends - the Family We Choose By Sharon Flood Kasenberg
The Family We Choose
When it comes to family
you might win; you might lose -
with our friends it's clear to see
that love's something we choose.
Your family must love you
(they haven't got much choice!),
but knowing that friends choose to
is reason to rejoice!
In spite of your glaring flaws
they chose you from the crowd -
a fact that ought to give pause -
then make you cheer out loud!
They aren't compelled to love you,
to listen or to care,
and knowing that they want to
should make us more aware
that even on our worst days
they see in us our best;
and multiply in all ways
how much our lives are blessed.
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, January 27th, 2020
As a nomadic soul who has lived in six towns over the past three decades, I can't even begin to explain how much those few friends who have maintained contact through my many moves mean to me.
Those of you who have lived in one area your entire lives have no idea how hard it is to establish new social circles as an adult. I envy the lifelong friendships you have - the annual "gal pal" weekends and the shopping trips you take together. I haven't experienced that kind of friendship since I married three decades ago.
When you are the one who moves on, you learn how easy it is for your place to be filled. The friends you leave behind have other friends, and those friendships usually predate the bonds they established with you. While some of these people are quite sad to see you leave, you know they won't be lonely - their other friendships will soon fill the gap you leave behind. It is a thought that is both comforting and depressing - we don't want our friends to be too sad about our departure, but we secretly fear that we'll be forgotten altogether. Only rarely is the connection strong enough that the remaining parties will really make an effort to maintain more than superficial contact - and while I can't speak for everyone who has changed cities more than once or twice, those are the friendships that matter most to me.
In October, we hosted a group of friends that we used to regularly socialize with more than twenty years ago. The circumstances that brought us all together had changed, and we were all different people than we had been two decades ago, but we still valued the bonds we had forged. We vowed we would all get together again soon, and not wait for another two or three years to pass before we had another reunion.
This past weekend, we got together with one of these couples. Knowing that they'd be babysitting grandchildren in the GTA over my birthday weekend, they invited us to join them at their son's apartment so we could celebrate together. It was a casual affair - we ate our dinner together after the kiddos had been fed, and they watched cartoons while we ate and talked. They bought me a birthday present - a colour changing mug that says "Friends are the family you choose." It's a sentiment that I wholeheartedly endorse.
I like the fact that this mug starts out plain and brown, and is illustrated with a kitten and a puppy. It demonstrates just how unlikely some of our friendship pairings might be - and how when we're in hot water, and the tea of life can be a bit hard to sip - the beauty of friendship often shows itself in its most vivid hues.
I grew up in a big, boisterous family with five siblings - all very different from each other. We love each other because we share common history, common parents, relatives and genes. Other than those things, most of us don't have much in common. We live in far flung cities, enjoy varied pastimes, ascribe to our own belief systems and vote different ways. I've sometimes wondered if any of them would actually become friends with me if we met as strangers.
We love each other because we need to, and we have to - because we are family. It isn't a mark of particular pride to me that these people make room in their hearts for me, and I for them - it's what society expects from a group who all sprang from the same genetic stock and grew up in a common household - sharing bedrooms, bathrooms, squabbles over possessions, and perceived parental slights. Who but a sibling can understand your gripe about a parent without making you feel completely disloyal? They don't always understand us or like us, but they care. We can rest assured that they'll show up if we really need them, and they'll fill seats at our funeral if they outlive us.
Those friendships that last over decades and across miles are different. We bond with these people because we choose to - and because they choose to reciprocate.We don't agree on every single aspect of our lives, but somehow it's okay. Faults that might seem intolerable in a spouse or family member are more easily overlooked in someone who interacts with us because they want to. Differences in opinion are more easily set aside when we receive, and reciprocate, hospitality. It is harder to take someone for granted, or to be unforgiving, when we know they have made a conscious decision to like us, even though we might occasionally give them reason not to.
These are the people who hear your secrets and keep them. They don't judge you when you toss around loose words in frustration and anger. They stick by you when you are such a misery to be around that your husband, kids and siblings enjoy you about as much as a small piece of Lego wedged in their shoe.
They give you praise that is genuine, compliments that you never even considered as applicable to you, and pep talks that don't sound condescending. They tell you off when they need to, but never in a way designed to deliberately hurt you. They will be brutally honest at times, but never unfair.
Your conversations might be less frequent than you'd like, but they tend to come when you need them most, and you cherish them like rare and precious jewels. When you actually get to see each other face to face, no matter how long it's been, you pick up old conversations as though you chatted with them yesterday. Although the circumstances in your separate lives may have radically changed, you always seem to rediscover what brought you together as friends, and can still enjoy each other's companionship.
In an age where technology gives us unlimited access to hordes of people who don't matter much to us, we have increased opportunities to spend time with people who don't play an everyday role in our lives - even though we wish they could. The messages my faraway friends send me buoy my spirit when I feel lonely, and motivate me to reach out to those who are in closer proximity - those people who might become dear friends...someday.
That's the crux of the difficulty for introverted nomads like me - the fact that friendships take time to establish. While I am in my limbo state - surrounded by pleasant acquaintances who have not yet won my trust and become cherished friends - I can't help but be grateful for the people who have loved me across the spans of time and distance. For some mysterious reason, we continue to make the same choice - to care when we aren't obligated to, and to love and appreciate each other simply because we can - and that is a beautiful thing.
When it comes to family
you might win; you might lose -
with our friends it's clear to see
that love's something we choose.
Your family must love you
(they haven't got much choice!),
but knowing that friends choose to
is reason to rejoice!
In spite of your glaring flaws
they chose you from the crowd -
a fact that ought to give pause -
then make you cheer out loud!
They aren't compelled to love you,
to listen or to care,
and knowing that they want to
should make us more aware
that even on our worst days
they see in us our best;
and multiply in all ways
how much our lives are blessed.
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, January 27th, 2020
As a nomadic soul who has lived in six towns over the past three decades, I can't even begin to explain how much those few friends who have maintained contact through my many moves mean to me.
Those of you who have lived in one area your entire lives have no idea how hard it is to establish new social circles as an adult. I envy the lifelong friendships you have - the annual "gal pal" weekends and the shopping trips you take together. I haven't experienced that kind of friendship since I married three decades ago.
When you are the one who moves on, you learn how easy it is for your place to be filled. The friends you leave behind have other friends, and those friendships usually predate the bonds they established with you. While some of these people are quite sad to see you leave, you know they won't be lonely - their other friendships will soon fill the gap you leave behind. It is a thought that is both comforting and depressing - we don't want our friends to be too sad about our departure, but we secretly fear that we'll be forgotten altogether. Only rarely is the connection strong enough that the remaining parties will really make an effort to maintain more than superficial contact - and while I can't speak for everyone who has changed cities more than once or twice, those are the friendships that matter most to me.
In October, we hosted a group of friends that we used to regularly socialize with more than twenty years ago. The circumstances that brought us all together had changed, and we were all different people than we had been two decades ago, but we still valued the bonds we had forged. We vowed we would all get together again soon, and not wait for another two or three years to pass before we had another reunion.
This past weekend, we got together with one of these couples. Knowing that they'd be babysitting grandchildren in the GTA over my birthday weekend, they invited us to join them at their son's apartment so we could celebrate together. It was a casual affair - we ate our dinner together after the kiddos had been fed, and they watched cartoons while we ate and talked. They bought me a birthday present - a colour changing mug that says "Friends are the family you choose." It's a sentiment that I wholeheartedly endorse.
I like the fact that this mug starts out plain and brown, and is illustrated with a kitten and a puppy. It demonstrates just how unlikely some of our friendship pairings might be - and how when we're in hot water, and the tea of life can be a bit hard to sip - the beauty of friendship often shows itself in its most vivid hues.
I grew up in a big, boisterous family with five siblings - all very different from each other. We love each other because we share common history, common parents, relatives and genes. Other than those things, most of us don't have much in common. We live in far flung cities, enjoy varied pastimes, ascribe to our own belief systems and vote different ways. I've sometimes wondered if any of them would actually become friends with me if we met as strangers.
We love each other because we need to, and we have to - because we are family. It isn't a mark of particular pride to me that these people make room in their hearts for me, and I for them - it's what society expects from a group who all sprang from the same genetic stock and grew up in a common household - sharing bedrooms, bathrooms, squabbles over possessions, and perceived parental slights. Who but a sibling can understand your gripe about a parent without making you feel completely disloyal? They don't always understand us or like us, but they care. We can rest assured that they'll show up if we really need them, and they'll fill seats at our funeral if they outlive us.
Those friendships that last over decades and across miles are different. We bond with these people because we choose to - and because they choose to reciprocate.We don't agree on every single aspect of our lives, but somehow it's okay. Faults that might seem intolerable in a spouse or family member are more easily overlooked in someone who interacts with us because they want to. Differences in opinion are more easily set aside when we receive, and reciprocate, hospitality. It is harder to take someone for granted, or to be unforgiving, when we know they have made a conscious decision to like us, even though we might occasionally give them reason not to.
These are the people who hear your secrets and keep them. They don't judge you when you toss around loose words in frustration and anger. They stick by you when you are such a misery to be around that your husband, kids and siblings enjoy you about as much as a small piece of Lego wedged in their shoe.
They give you praise that is genuine, compliments that you never even considered as applicable to you, and pep talks that don't sound condescending. They tell you off when they need to, but never in a way designed to deliberately hurt you. They will be brutally honest at times, but never unfair.
Your conversations might be less frequent than you'd like, but they tend to come when you need them most, and you cherish them like rare and precious jewels. When you actually get to see each other face to face, no matter how long it's been, you pick up old conversations as though you chatted with them yesterday. Although the circumstances in your separate lives may have radically changed, you always seem to rediscover what brought you together as friends, and can still enjoy each other's companionship.
In an age where technology gives us unlimited access to hordes of people who don't matter much to us, we have increased opportunities to spend time with people who don't play an everyday role in our lives - even though we wish they could. The messages my faraway friends send me buoy my spirit when I feel lonely, and motivate me to reach out to those who are in closer proximity - those people who might become dear friends...someday.
That's the crux of the difficulty for introverted nomads like me - the fact that friendships take time to establish. While I am in my limbo state - surrounded by pleasant acquaintances who have not yet won my trust and become cherished friends - I can't help but be grateful for the people who have loved me across the spans of time and distance. For some mysterious reason, we continue to make the same choice - to care when we aren't obligated to, and to love and appreciate each other simply because we can - and that is a beautiful thing.
Thursday, 2 January 2020
Looking Ahead to a Year of "Perfect Vision" By Sharon Flood Kasenberg
20/20 Vision
It's easy to glance backward
when we should look ahead -
not focus on the future,
rewind the past instead!
But nothing is accomplished
when we relive misdeeds,
and endless rumination
is not what this muse needs!
Thus as new year's beginning
I'll inventory soul -
take stock of dreams and wishes
and try to gain control.
I'll list goals I can work on -
forgive those I cannot -
and tally up my fortunes;
give thanks for all I've got.
I'll count up those I love most,
and those who count on me,
and offer them affection
with generosity.
I'll carefully examine
the things I can improve;
minimizung obstacles
that I cannot remove.
In year of 20/20
I hope my sight is clear
to see opportunities
wherever they appear.
I hope in vivid detail
my eyes will always see
the beauty found in nature,
and in humanity.
May I see self more kindly,
and view others with grace;
help maximize potential
and inner qualms erase.
May I direct my focus
with utmost clarity
to just and noble causes
that fight disparity.
With thoughts more forward focused,
and sight lines broad and clear,
my aim is to contribute
to a "perfect vision" year.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, January 2nd, 2020
Last year was a hard year for me - a difficult end to a decade that was full of change and often difficult transitions.
Ten years ago I lived a very different life, in another place and another house. I had two sons living at home, and strict dogmas that I adhered to. I lived my life with an almost obnoxious level of certainty that I was doing most things as they ought to be done.
Eight years ago I began a journey that brought me to another state of mind entirely. I began to rethink a lot of the ways I had always lived my life, putting the focus on what I really believed in my heart as opposed to what I felt I *should* believe. I moved out of my comfort zone and spent the better part of a year living in Toronto with my son, only living in my home in Kitchener on weekends. It was an eye opening year that initiated a lot more changes in my life.
Five years ago my younger son got engaged - then married six months later. Nothing bound us to Kitchener any longer; our younger son had received his undergraduate degree, and he and his wife moved to Boston to pursue further education. Our older son was between jobs and open to the idea of a change in locale. My husband was self-employed, and said he could work from home wherever we chose to live, so we decided it was time to leave the city behind and embark on a new adventure in a more pastoral setting.
Four years ago the hunt for a unique property began, and eight months later we moved to our new/old home. New beginnings are exciting, but difficult. Every time I move I feel optimistic - surely "this time" I will find my "happy place" - friendships; purpose; community. Establishing myself is always harder than I think it will be.
Life is often difficult for nomadic introverts like me. I struggle to get to know people. I hate making small talk. I don't like going through the process of "finding friends" - the feeling that I am weighing the merits of others, and being weighed in return. I hate the standard "friend interview" questions - "What do you do?" (Really? You don't work??? Incredulous stare..)
"So, where did you go to university?...Oh - you didn't finish?" (Disappointed head shake..) At that point my telepathy kicks in, and it seems clear to me that I'm viewed as someone who is boring and has little to offer. (I've paid a heavy price for a few of my earlier life choices.) My inner critic is always quick to chime in, and hard to shut up, which makes the friend-making thing that much harder still.
My focus on finding friends stalled in the fall of 2017 when I discovered the joys of being a host mom to a Brazilian student attending the local high school. Since then we've hosted three more boys - two from Brazil, and one from Italy. I found a few friends who also hosted students, and became best buds with a succession of seventeen year old boys.
While my husband was busy working, and getting involved with municipal politics, I manned the home front - kept the boys fed, and baked copious batches of well appreciated home-made cookies. I had interesting, fun, and sometimes challenging conversations with our adopted "sons." They told me I was "a good English teacher." They made me feel useful and appreciated. They kept me sane!
While they stayed with us they were our kids. We watched television together. We argued at the table. We explored the local haunts, went on shopping trips, celebrated holidays and birthdays, took road trips - lots of upsides to the experience - but one really big downside. You love them to bits - but then they go home. We hold out hope that our Italian son will visit someday, but when kids go back to Brazil you know that unless your finances allow for frequent trips to South America, or sending plane tickets so they can visit you, your chances of seeing them much in the future - if ever - aren't great.
For the past six months I've felt lonely and rudderless without my international sons. Very few exchange students came to the local school in the fall, so we had no opportunity to host. It was another disappointment in a year full of hard revelations. I had health issues arise that reminded me that I'm not invincible and grappled with the concept of mortality as I've watched friends and family lose loved ones. I've seen aging friends and family suffer injuries and declining health.
I've struggled with my role as "the mayor's wife." (How can I keep a low profile and avoid recognition while still being seen as sufficiently supportive? How can I censure my opinions on those occasions when I'm asked for them? How do I deal with people who want to see my aging self as nothing more than an escort on an arm?)
Last year I often felt lonely, emotionally flat, unmotivated and discouraged. This year I want things to be different. I have a clear vision of what I plan to do differently to facilitate positive change.
I'm working on getting my driver's license. This is a big deal for me. Life with a narcoleptic father (who often scared my impressionable childhood self by falling asleep behind the wheel!) made me fear learning to drive, but I'm working hard to conquer that fear. I've learned that people can sometimes treat you like a lesser being when you don't have a driver's license - and I'm sick of being viewed as "lacking independence" because I can't drive myself places. When I lived in the city I didn't feel the need to drive - I could walk most places I frequently went, and if I wanted, or needed, to venture further afield there was a bus stop at the corner. When you live in a very small town and have a husband who often needs to travel you can go a little stir crazy. This is the year I take the wheel!
Driving will open up some new opportunities for me, and allow me to explore the world outside my door. As for inner exploration, I have plans to do plenty of that as well.
One of my former students helped me set up my new iPad and figure out how to use the camera and edit photos. I've discovered that I love taking pictures! For Christmas I was given a gift certificate to take a few photography lessons, and I'm really looking forward to learning some skills from a professional photographer. I've learned that life often looks better through the eye of a lens.
Another of my former students exposed me to new forms of music - jazz, Bossa Nova, classical guitar. My tastes had grown predictable, and a little musical exploration was past due. Most days now I make a conscious effort to listen to something different.
I'm going to renew my commitment to writing - more poems, more blog posts, and perhaps a few new projects in the offing. It's easy to get discouraged when you put effort into writing blog posts that few read, thanks to Google/Facebook analytics, but I shall forge ahead. I will keep reminding myself that the size of my audience doesn't matter as much as my dedication to getting words and ideas in print. My brain needs more exercise.
Speaking of exercise - I'm determined to take more walks, use my treadmill, and utilize the gym membership I purchased last fall. I don't like going to the gym alone, but I'm going to try to be diligent. I know I feel better when I move - but that doesn't always make it easier. It's time to prioritize health and fitness.
There are things I need to do less often too - like listening to my inner critic! This year year I'm buying her a muzzle! I'm going to ask for less advice, and listen harder to my own instincts. I'm going to try to worry less about things I have no control over. I'm going to waste less time on trivialities and spend more time learning things - reading books, indulging my curiosity and coming up with creative solutions to the tired old conundrums that have plagued me far too long. I might even find a few new friends that way.
For too long, I have sat on the sidelines, watching life unfold around me without much participation. Some way, somehow I have to change that.
It's time to stop musing and start doing. It's time to contribute more than words to the world around me.
It's time to put a difficult year behind me and follow my vision into action. Wish me luck : )
It's easy to glance backward
when we should look ahead -
not focus on the future,
rewind the past instead!
But nothing is accomplished
when we relive misdeeds,
and endless rumination
is not what this muse needs!
Thus as new year's beginning
I'll inventory soul -
take stock of dreams and wishes
and try to gain control.
I'll list goals I can work on -
forgive those I cannot -
and tally up my fortunes;
give thanks for all I've got.
I'll count up those I love most,
and those who count on me,
and offer them affection
with generosity.
I'll carefully examine
the things I can improve;
minimizung obstacles
that I cannot remove.
In year of 20/20
I hope my sight is clear
to see opportunities
wherever they appear.
I hope in vivid detail
my eyes will always see
the beauty found in nature,
and in humanity.
May I see self more kindly,
and view others with grace;
help maximize potential
and inner qualms erase.
May I direct my focus
with utmost clarity
to just and noble causes
that fight disparity.
With thoughts more forward focused,
and sight lines broad and clear,
my aim is to contribute
to a "perfect vision" year.
Sharon Flood Kasenberg, January 2nd, 2020
Last year was a hard year for me - a difficult end to a decade that was full of change and often difficult transitions.
Ten years ago I lived a very different life, in another place and another house. I had two sons living at home, and strict dogmas that I adhered to. I lived my life with an almost obnoxious level of certainty that I was doing most things as they ought to be done.
Eight years ago I began a journey that brought me to another state of mind entirely. I began to rethink a lot of the ways I had always lived my life, putting the focus on what I really believed in my heart as opposed to what I felt I *should* believe. I moved out of my comfort zone and spent the better part of a year living in Toronto with my son, only living in my home in Kitchener on weekends. It was an eye opening year that initiated a lot more changes in my life.
Five years ago my younger son got engaged - then married six months later. Nothing bound us to Kitchener any longer; our younger son had received his undergraduate degree, and he and his wife moved to Boston to pursue further education. Our older son was between jobs and open to the idea of a change in locale. My husband was self-employed, and said he could work from home wherever we chose to live, so we decided it was time to leave the city behind and embark on a new adventure in a more pastoral setting.
Four years ago the hunt for a unique property began, and eight months later we moved to our new/old home. New beginnings are exciting, but difficult. Every time I move I feel optimistic - surely "this time" I will find my "happy place" - friendships; purpose; community. Establishing myself is always harder than I think it will be.
Life is often difficult for nomadic introverts like me. I struggle to get to know people. I hate making small talk. I don't like going through the process of "finding friends" - the feeling that I am weighing the merits of others, and being weighed in return. I hate the standard "friend interview" questions - "What do you do?" (Really? You don't work??? Incredulous stare..)
"So, where did you go to university?...Oh - you didn't finish?" (Disappointed head shake..) At that point my telepathy kicks in, and it seems clear to me that I'm viewed as someone who is boring and has little to offer. (I've paid a heavy price for a few of my earlier life choices.) My inner critic is always quick to chime in, and hard to shut up, which makes the friend-making thing that much harder still.
My focus on finding friends stalled in the fall of 2017 when I discovered the joys of being a host mom to a Brazilian student attending the local high school. Since then we've hosted three more boys - two from Brazil, and one from Italy. I found a few friends who also hosted students, and became best buds with a succession of seventeen year old boys.
While my husband was busy working, and getting involved with municipal politics, I manned the home front - kept the boys fed, and baked copious batches of well appreciated home-made cookies. I had interesting, fun, and sometimes challenging conversations with our adopted "sons." They told me I was "a good English teacher." They made me feel useful and appreciated. They kept me sane!
While they stayed with us they were our kids. We watched television together. We argued at the table. We explored the local haunts, went on shopping trips, celebrated holidays and birthdays, took road trips - lots of upsides to the experience - but one really big downside. You love them to bits - but then they go home. We hold out hope that our Italian son will visit someday, but when kids go back to Brazil you know that unless your finances allow for frequent trips to South America, or sending plane tickets so they can visit you, your chances of seeing them much in the future - if ever - aren't great.
For the past six months I've felt lonely and rudderless without my international sons. Very few exchange students came to the local school in the fall, so we had no opportunity to host. It was another disappointment in a year full of hard revelations. I had health issues arise that reminded me that I'm not invincible and grappled with the concept of mortality as I've watched friends and family lose loved ones. I've seen aging friends and family suffer injuries and declining health.
I've struggled with my role as "the mayor's wife." (How can I keep a low profile and avoid recognition while still being seen as sufficiently supportive? How can I censure my opinions on those occasions when I'm asked for them? How do I deal with people who want to see my aging self as nothing more than an escort on an arm?)
Last year I often felt lonely, emotionally flat, unmotivated and discouraged. This year I want things to be different. I have a clear vision of what I plan to do differently to facilitate positive change.
I'm working on getting my driver's license. This is a big deal for me. Life with a narcoleptic father (who often scared my impressionable childhood self by falling asleep behind the wheel!) made me fear learning to drive, but I'm working hard to conquer that fear. I've learned that people can sometimes treat you like a lesser being when you don't have a driver's license - and I'm sick of being viewed as "lacking independence" because I can't drive myself places. When I lived in the city I didn't feel the need to drive - I could walk most places I frequently went, and if I wanted, or needed, to venture further afield there was a bus stop at the corner. When you live in a very small town and have a husband who often needs to travel you can go a little stir crazy. This is the year I take the wheel!
Driving will open up some new opportunities for me, and allow me to explore the world outside my door. As for inner exploration, I have plans to do plenty of that as well.
One of my former students helped me set up my new iPad and figure out how to use the camera and edit photos. I've discovered that I love taking pictures! For Christmas I was given a gift certificate to take a few photography lessons, and I'm really looking forward to learning some skills from a professional photographer. I've learned that life often looks better through the eye of a lens.
Another of my former students exposed me to new forms of music - jazz, Bossa Nova, classical guitar. My tastes had grown predictable, and a little musical exploration was past due. Most days now I make a conscious effort to listen to something different.
I'm going to renew my commitment to writing - more poems, more blog posts, and perhaps a few new projects in the offing. It's easy to get discouraged when you put effort into writing blog posts that few read, thanks to Google/Facebook analytics, but I shall forge ahead. I will keep reminding myself that the size of my audience doesn't matter as much as my dedication to getting words and ideas in print. My brain needs more exercise.
Speaking of exercise - I'm determined to take more walks, use my treadmill, and utilize the gym membership I purchased last fall. I don't like going to the gym alone, but I'm going to try to be diligent. I know I feel better when I move - but that doesn't always make it easier. It's time to prioritize health and fitness.
There are things I need to do less often too - like listening to my inner critic! This year year I'm buying her a muzzle! I'm going to ask for less advice, and listen harder to my own instincts. I'm going to try to worry less about things I have no control over. I'm going to waste less time on trivialities and spend more time learning things - reading books, indulging my curiosity and coming up with creative solutions to the tired old conundrums that have plagued me far too long. I might even find a few new friends that way.
For too long, I have sat on the sidelines, watching life unfold around me without much participation. Some way, somehow I have to change that.
It's time to stop musing and start doing. It's time to contribute more than words to the world around me.
It's time to put a difficult year behind me and follow my vision into action. Wish me luck : )
Wednesday, 11 December 2019
No "Merry" to be Found - By Sharon Flood Kasenberg
No "Merry" to Be Found
Sun shines on snow -
around you mirth -
but now you know
no peace on earth.
When grief descends
as Christmas nears,
reach out to friends
who'll dry your tears.
Give loved ones part
of load you bear -
they know your heart;
you know they care.
Humanity
grants us a gift,
when we see pain
we want to lift.
Our love is oft'
all we can share -
let hearts be soft;
show that you care.
Shine love on those
whose smiles are lost
for love bestows
gifts beyond cost.
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, December 11, 2019
My first difficult Christmas occurred when I was seventeen. My Grandmother Flood, who was like a third parent to me, died on November 18th of that year. Our Christmas Season was understandably subdued. My grandmother had suffered a stroke two weeks before her death, and I spent those weeks taking my turn at her bedside, gradually losing hope that she would ever come home again. It was harrowing experience for a girl my age who had never lost anyone close to her. I fell behind on assignments for school, and did badly on exams that semester. I hesitantly approached one teacher - and was grateful to receive concern, compassion, and the needed extension from her.
I had a good friend whose family had suffered an even more devastating loss that year - the death of a young and vibrant family member - and she helped me get through that "unmerry" Christmas. I knew she understood the loss I was feeling, and from my experience with her I learned the difference between sympathy and empathy. All of my friends were sad for me, but she was sad with me. She truly understood the gaping hole in my heart because she had one too.
Nineteen years later my father died of a heart attack on December 5th. My relationship with him had always been somewhat complicated, and my sorrow was also complicated - by feelings of guilt. Why had I wasted so much of my life fighting with him? Had he died really knowing that I loved him?
While attending his funeral, three hours away from where I was then living, I missed an appointment with the Principal and Vice Principal of my sons' public school. It had completely skipped my mind in my rush to get to my mother and siblings. I hastily apologized and rescheduled the meeting when I returned home. As I entered the room where they both awaited, beginning to apologize for rescheduling, and, as I was about to offer an explanation, they gave each other a conspiratorial glance, and the Vice Principal cut me off -
"It's okay, we understand", she sneered. "Everyone is so busy with their shopping at this time of year!"
My jaw fell open in astonishment at her assumption, and I quickly explained that I hadn't even begun my shopping yet because I had been too busy planning and attending my father's funeral.
An uncomfortable silence preceded their shamefaced apologies. We had our meeting, and through all of those uncomfortable minutes that followed I hoped they had both learned a lesson about jumping to conclusions.
At this time of year, it is easy to assume that the person who seems disorganized and misses a meeting or leaves an assignment unfinished has a case of the holiday frazzles. It's easy to believe that the grumpy person ahead of you in line at the check outs "has no Christmas spirit!" The neighbour who doesn't want to come to your Christmas event or party is "Bah Humbug"...
We all make snap assumptions at times when the truth is far more complicated, and infinitely sadder. Death doesn't wait for the holidays to end, neither does any other tragedy, accident or illness. Doctors don't wait until the new year to give the grim diagnosis, and depression doesn't magically disappear with the first Christmas carol. In fact, winter in cold climates brings its own special brand of depression and anxiety into the mix - Seasonal Affective Disorder leaves millions feeling depressed each winter, and accounts for about 10% of all depression cases. During the holidays, marriages still break down, kids still get in trouble, and financial strains hurt more than ever.
There are a whole lot of reasons for people to feel stressed, depressed and dismayed at this time of year, and before we accuse anyone around us of dropping a wet blanket on our cheerful festivities we need to dig a little deeper into understanding what they might be experiencing. We need to reach out to others, and to try to be the friend that others feel safe reaching out to.
In a season where we rush out to buy gifts for others, let's not overlook the gifts we can give that don't cost us a cent, but may cost us time, energy or restraint. We can be more patient with the ornery, more soothing and generous toward the disgruntled; more considerate toward those who face challenges we may not be fully aware of. But more than anything else, we can be kind, and try to demonstrate compassion, sympathy, empathy and love toward everyone we encounter.
Gifts of love and kindness not only keep giving - they foster "peace on earth and goodwill towards all". We are all made richer when we share the gifts of the heart.
Sun shines on snow -
around you mirth -
but now you know
no peace on earth.
When grief descends
as Christmas nears,
reach out to friends
who'll dry your tears.
Give loved ones part
of load you bear -
they know your heart;
you know they care.
Humanity
grants us a gift,
when we see pain
we want to lift.
Our love is oft'
all we can share -
let hearts be soft;
show that you care.
Shine love on those
whose smiles are lost
for love bestows
gifts beyond cost.
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, December 11, 2019
My first difficult Christmas occurred when I was seventeen. My Grandmother Flood, who was like a third parent to me, died on November 18th of that year. Our Christmas Season was understandably subdued. My grandmother had suffered a stroke two weeks before her death, and I spent those weeks taking my turn at her bedside, gradually losing hope that she would ever come home again. It was harrowing experience for a girl my age who had never lost anyone close to her. I fell behind on assignments for school, and did badly on exams that semester. I hesitantly approached one teacher - and was grateful to receive concern, compassion, and the needed extension from her.
I had a good friend whose family had suffered an even more devastating loss that year - the death of a young and vibrant family member - and she helped me get through that "unmerry" Christmas. I knew she understood the loss I was feeling, and from my experience with her I learned the difference between sympathy and empathy. All of my friends were sad for me, but she was sad with me. She truly understood the gaping hole in my heart because she had one too.
Nineteen years later my father died of a heart attack on December 5th. My relationship with him had always been somewhat complicated, and my sorrow was also complicated - by feelings of guilt. Why had I wasted so much of my life fighting with him? Had he died really knowing that I loved him?
While attending his funeral, three hours away from where I was then living, I missed an appointment with the Principal and Vice Principal of my sons' public school. It had completely skipped my mind in my rush to get to my mother and siblings. I hastily apologized and rescheduled the meeting when I returned home. As I entered the room where they both awaited, beginning to apologize for rescheduling, and, as I was about to offer an explanation, they gave each other a conspiratorial glance, and the Vice Principal cut me off -
"It's okay, we understand", she sneered. "Everyone is so busy with their shopping at this time of year!"
My jaw fell open in astonishment at her assumption, and I quickly explained that I hadn't even begun my shopping yet because I had been too busy planning and attending my father's funeral.
An uncomfortable silence preceded their shamefaced apologies. We had our meeting, and through all of those uncomfortable minutes that followed I hoped they had both learned a lesson about jumping to conclusions.
At this time of year, it is easy to assume that the person who seems disorganized and misses a meeting or leaves an assignment unfinished has a case of the holiday frazzles. It's easy to believe that the grumpy person ahead of you in line at the check outs "has no Christmas spirit!" The neighbour who doesn't want to come to your Christmas event or party is "Bah Humbug"...
We all make snap assumptions at times when the truth is far more complicated, and infinitely sadder. Death doesn't wait for the holidays to end, neither does any other tragedy, accident or illness. Doctors don't wait until the new year to give the grim diagnosis, and depression doesn't magically disappear with the first Christmas carol. In fact, winter in cold climates brings its own special brand of depression and anxiety into the mix - Seasonal Affective Disorder leaves millions feeling depressed each winter, and accounts for about 10% of all depression cases. During the holidays, marriages still break down, kids still get in trouble, and financial strains hurt more than ever.
There are a whole lot of reasons for people to feel stressed, depressed and dismayed at this time of year, and before we accuse anyone around us of dropping a wet blanket on our cheerful festivities we need to dig a little deeper into understanding what they might be experiencing. We need to reach out to others, and to try to be the friend that others feel safe reaching out to.
In a season where we rush out to buy gifts for others, let's not overlook the gifts we can give that don't cost us a cent, but may cost us time, energy or restraint. We can be more patient with the ornery, more soothing and generous toward the disgruntled; more considerate toward those who face challenges we may not be fully aware of. But more than anything else, we can be kind, and try to demonstrate compassion, sympathy, empathy and love toward everyone we encounter.
Gifts of love and kindness not only keep giving - they foster "peace on earth and goodwill towards all". We are all made richer when we share the gifts of the heart.
Friday, 29 November 2019
Altered Expectations - By Sharon Flood Kasenberg
I Dreamed - I Woke
I dreamed last night of sunshine bright,
and rain that stayed away -
my heart was light, I felt alright
and found some words to say.
I dreamed about a life without
much worry on my mind;
with no self doubt words would come out
and cares I'd leave behind.
I woke to know it wasn't so -
no epic would I pen -
that words might flow, but even so
they'd surely cease again.
I woke to feel something more real;
when expectations high -
crush under heel, I wish that zeal
could grant me wings to fly!
I woke today, and said, "No way -
it's just too much, too soon,
and it's okay, by light of day
to not expect the moon."
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, November 28, 2019
When I was younger I used to enjoy a television sketch on Mad TV called "Lowered Expectations". It was a spoof on "personal ads", which were the paper based forerunner of online dating sites. (Yeah - I know that's proof that I'm old!) Youthful and naive, I wondered why anyone would ever consider using a dating service that urged people to keep their expectations low - it seemed like such a preposterous idea at the time!
Now I get it.
We live in an era where we are always pushed to aim high - to be successful in every endeavor, and dating is no exception. Don't the unattached among us "deserve" to be with the hottest companions, just by virtue of putting a nicely edited photo up on a dating site? Then, (of course!) they will swipe on other carefully edited and staged - and perhaps outright ancient or "borrowed" - photos, and decide, based on looks and a few texting sessions, whether they have met "a match". Needless to say, pairings based on such shallow criteria might yield a good romp or two, but seldom have the same staying power as people who opt to dig a little deeper to find some common ground before declaring "couplehood."
Perhaps these "singletons" would be better off if they were willing to lower their expectations in the looks department, and raise them in other areas.
We are inundated with messages from that if we aren't constantly moving forward we must be lagging behind. There is no respect for the idea of a pause from time to time. "Just do something - anything - but don't you dare stand still! Keep your chin up, aim for the top spot, and don't question yourself!"
We are told that we should be good at everything - and if we aren't it's because we aren't trying hard enough.
We are surrounded by well meaning cheerleaders, who feed us a steady stream of catchy slogans telling us that we should always be upbeat and optimistic, because "Happiness is a choice."
We are urged to be productive all the time, and told that our achievements determine our success.
"Do, or do not" - said a well meaning Yoda to his young apprentice - "there is no try". Our lofty expectations were forged in the fire of good intentions. As much as Yoda was an admirable mentor, he seemed to miss the point that making and attempt - or"trying"- to accomplish something is forward movement in and of itself. Truthfully, we are all blissfully ignorant about what we need to do next a whole lot of the time, and I've concluded that my own failed attempts - my "tries" - often initiated a change of course that put me on the right path of "doing". There is no shame in trying - and perhaps failing. Where would all of the innovators be if they didn't take a stab at something new or "try" to do the same old thing in a brand new way?
I'll tell you where - nowhere. They'd be paralyzed by the fear of being a "trier", and not a "doer" like so many of us who were raised to think that making an attempt didn't count as legitimate effort. It's a whole lot easier to know what you ought to do when you've figured out - through trial and error - what isn't going to work.
The irony is that "trying" is both a hiss and a byword, and a club to beat us over the head with. We really are expected to be in a constant state of self improvement, home improvement, attitude improvement, intellectual improvement - you name it. The tools are all readily available to us online. What can't we learn from our vast menu of online improvement entrees? YouTube videos, Pinterest suggestions, Facebook news feed - they all serve up a feast for the soul who seeks betterment.
If you aren't improving, you really aren't "trying" hard enough.
If only life was as easy as all of the pop psychologists have told us it should be! The truth, as I see it, is that life is full of times when we should stop frantically pushing forward and pause to assess where we are. We don't need to produce endlessly, or to always be looking for ways to acquire more. Sometimes we can be satisfied with less, and there is no shame in choosing to simplify life and slow our constant quest for more and better things, more exciting experiences, and more acclaim from the masses - especially from online "followers" who may not have any idea how carefully constructed our Facebook facades may be.
We are not our online profiles. We are not our best photographs, poems, or most liked status updates. We can't measure our success by how many online "likes" we get on any given day. We are not our best stories, our medals or trophies, our pretty houses or gardens.
A few of our expectations need to change.
Every selfie posted on social media must conceal our flaws, and all of our family photos are meticulously staged. We post pictures of our culinary masterpieces but neglect to put up the pictures of the burnt offerings we feed our families. We proudly boast of our children's achievements, but forget to mention that they repeated fourth year twice to get those stellar grades, or that while "Johnny" was heading off to Harvard, "Jimmy" was doing a stint in reform school - or even "just" attending community college.
The expectations parents have placed on their children to all get a university education need to be altered. Every teenager isn't suited for university, and shouldn't be pushed in that direction in an era when tradesmen are desperately in need of apprentices. We need retail clerks, factory workers, farmers and firemen, and in a society where most households can only stay afloat on two incomes, both people might as well be doing something they can stand doing.
The idea that happiness is an expectation needs to be altered. We are allowed to feel discouraged sometimes, to feel uncertainty occasionally, and to not be eternally optimistic and full of giddy excitement and happiness. Our ancestors didn't go through life expecting everything to be "fun", or expecting to be perpetually happy. They worked long hard days and were thrilled when they had a rare opportunity to enjoy some form of simple, social entertainment. (As in honest to goodness face-to-face interaction with other hardworking folk.) They tried to get along with each other, regardless of who voted what way or went to which church. They were smart enough to understand that they might need each other someday, so they tried not to alienate their neighbours. They understood the value of genuine human connection.
When we send out the message that all should "choose to be happy", we disenfranchise the grieving, the physically suffering, the depressed, the mentally ill, and the impoverished. We tell them their pain doesn't matter, and that they should forge on without complaint. We spread this gospel of chronic, toxic optimism in the name of "being positive" but more often than not we simply don't want to acknowledge that there are those who simply have little to be happy about, or who are so deeply entrenched in one sort of misery or another that happiness seems like a far off goal, if in fact they can envision any degree of happiness at all.
The notion that some simply don't "choose" to be happy seems like a classic case of victim blaming.
How can we alter expectations that have grown to epic proportions - cut them down to a manageable size?
I have a few suggestions. (You knew I would, right?)
Slow down and enjoy the journey you are on without being constantly focused on some "destination". Don't be afraid to explore when you are faced with detours, or to stop and enjoy the scenery when there are roadblocks.
Forego Facebook for face-time. Remember - it is FACEbook, not Thoughtbook, Truthbook or Heartbook, and nobody can really get to know you by reading your posts, looking at your pictures or laughing at your memes. Re-engage with friends, family, nature, art, live music, board games, foolishness, adventure and occasionally boredom. Yeah - it's okay to be idle from time to time - to watch the clouds, to close your eyes and daydream.
Spend some time in solitude. Read books. Keep a journal. Meditate. Spend time alone with your thoughts. Spend time identifying and accepting your feelings - even the negative ones. Maybe even especially the negative ones. You are allowed to feel what you feel, and you can't be expected to "deal with" issues you are afraid to acknowledge. Feelings aren't bad, but when we push them down they push back, urging us to make rash decisions, to self-medicate, or to behave badly, injuring ourselves and those around us.
When we learn to alter our expectations - to lower some of them, and elevate others - we will accept ourselves, our neighbours, our lives, our problems and our opportunities in a more satisfying, unifying and healthy way.
I'm expecting my expectations to change. Are you?
I dreamed last night of sunshine bright,
and rain that stayed away -
my heart was light, I felt alright
and found some words to say.
I dreamed about a life without
much worry on my mind;
with no self doubt words would come out
and cares I'd leave behind.
I woke to know it wasn't so -
no epic would I pen -
that words might flow, but even so
they'd surely cease again.
I woke to feel something more real;
when expectations high -
crush under heel, I wish that zeal
could grant me wings to fly!
I woke today, and said, "No way -
it's just too much, too soon,
and it's okay, by light of day
to not expect the moon."
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, November 28, 2019
When I was younger I used to enjoy a television sketch on Mad TV called "Lowered Expectations". It was a spoof on "personal ads", which were the paper based forerunner of online dating sites. (Yeah - I know that's proof that I'm old!) Youthful and naive, I wondered why anyone would ever consider using a dating service that urged people to keep their expectations low - it seemed like such a preposterous idea at the time!
Now I get it.
We live in an era where we are always pushed to aim high - to be successful in every endeavor, and dating is no exception. Don't the unattached among us "deserve" to be with the hottest companions, just by virtue of putting a nicely edited photo up on a dating site? Then, (of course!) they will swipe on other carefully edited and staged - and perhaps outright ancient or "borrowed" - photos, and decide, based on looks and a few texting sessions, whether they have met "a match". Needless to say, pairings based on such shallow criteria might yield a good romp or two, but seldom have the same staying power as people who opt to dig a little deeper to find some common ground before declaring "couplehood."
Perhaps these "singletons" would be better off if they were willing to lower their expectations in the looks department, and raise them in other areas.
We are inundated with messages from that if we aren't constantly moving forward we must be lagging behind. There is no respect for the idea of a pause from time to time. "Just do something - anything - but don't you dare stand still! Keep your chin up, aim for the top spot, and don't question yourself!"
We are told that we should be good at everything - and if we aren't it's because we aren't trying hard enough.
We are surrounded by well meaning cheerleaders, who feed us a steady stream of catchy slogans telling us that we should always be upbeat and optimistic, because "Happiness is a choice."
We are urged to be productive all the time, and told that our achievements determine our success.
"Do, or do not" - said a well meaning Yoda to his young apprentice - "there is no try". Our lofty expectations were forged in the fire of good intentions. As much as Yoda was an admirable mentor, he seemed to miss the point that making and attempt - or"trying"- to accomplish something is forward movement in and of itself. Truthfully, we are all blissfully ignorant about what we need to do next a whole lot of the time, and I've concluded that my own failed attempts - my "tries" - often initiated a change of course that put me on the right path of "doing". There is no shame in trying - and perhaps failing. Where would all of the innovators be if they didn't take a stab at something new or "try" to do the same old thing in a brand new way?
I'll tell you where - nowhere. They'd be paralyzed by the fear of being a "trier", and not a "doer" like so many of us who were raised to think that making an attempt didn't count as legitimate effort. It's a whole lot easier to know what you ought to do when you've figured out - through trial and error - what isn't going to work.
The irony is that "trying" is both a hiss and a byword, and a club to beat us over the head with. We really are expected to be in a constant state of self improvement, home improvement, attitude improvement, intellectual improvement - you name it. The tools are all readily available to us online. What can't we learn from our vast menu of online improvement entrees? YouTube videos, Pinterest suggestions, Facebook news feed - they all serve up a feast for the soul who seeks betterment.
If you aren't improving, you really aren't "trying" hard enough.
If only life was as easy as all of the pop psychologists have told us it should be! The truth, as I see it, is that life is full of times when we should stop frantically pushing forward and pause to assess where we are. We don't need to produce endlessly, or to always be looking for ways to acquire more. Sometimes we can be satisfied with less, and there is no shame in choosing to simplify life and slow our constant quest for more and better things, more exciting experiences, and more acclaim from the masses - especially from online "followers" who may not have any idea how carefully constructed our Facebook facades may be.
We are not our online profiles. We are not our best photographs, poems, or most liked status updates. We can't measure our success by how many online "likes" we get on any given day. We are not our best stories, our medals or trophies, our pretty houses or gardens.
A few of our expectations need to change.
Every selfie posted on social media must conceal our flaws, and all of our family photos are meticulously staged. We post pictures of our culinary masterpieces but neglect to put up the pictures of the burnt offerings we feed our families. We proudly boast of our children's achievements, but forget to mention that they repeated fourth year twice to get those stellar grades, or that while "Johnny" was heading off to Harvard, "Jimmy" was doing a stint in reform school - or even "just" attending community college.
The expectations parents have placed on their children to all get a university education need to be altered. Every teenager isn't suited for university, and shouldn't be pushed in that direction in an era when tradesmen are desperately in need of apprentices. We need retail clerks, factory workers, farmers and firemen, and in a society where most households can only stay afloat on two incomes, both people might as well be doing something they can stand doing.
The idea that happiness is an expectation needs to be altered. We are allowed to feel discouraged sometimes, to feel uncertainty occasionally, and to not be eternally optimistic and full of giddy excitement and happiness. Our ancestors didn't go through life expecting everything to be "fun", or expecting to be perpetually happy. They worked long hard days and were thrilled when they had a rare opportunity to enjoy some form of simple, social entertainment. (As in honest to goodness face-to-face interaction with other hardworking folk.) They tried to get along with each other, regardless of who voted what way or went to which church. They were smart enough to understand that they might need each other someday, so they tried not to alienate their neighbours. They understood the value of genuine human connection.
When we send out the message that all should "choose to be happy", we disenfranchise the grieving, the physically suffering, the depressed, the mentally ill, and the impoverished. We tell them their pain doesn't matter, and that they should forge on without complaint. We spread this gospel of chronic, toxic optimism in the name of "being positive" but more often than not we simply don't want to acknowledge that there are those who simply have little to be happy about, or who are so deeply entrenched in one sort of misery or another that happiness seems like a far off goal, if in fact they can envision any degree of happiness at all.
The notion that some simply don't "choose" to be happy seems like a classic case of victim blaming.
How can we alter expectations that have grown to epic proportions - cut them down to a manageable size?
I have a few suggestions. (You knew I would, right?)
Slow down and enjoy the journey you are on without being constantly focused on some "destination". Don't be afraid to explore when you are faced with detours, or to stop and enjoy the scenery when there are roadblocks.
Forego Facebook for face-time. Remember - it is FACEbook, not Thoughtbook, Truthbook or Heartbook, and nobody can really get to know you by reading your posts, looking at your pictures or laughing at your memes. Re-engage with friends, family, nature, art, live music, board games, foolishness, adventure and occasionally boredom. Yeah - it's okay to be idle from time to time - to watch the clouds, to close your eyes and daydream.
Spend some time in solitude. Read books. Keep a journal. Meditate. Spend time alone with your thoughts. Spend time identifying and accepting your feelings - even the negative ones. Maybe even especially the negative ones. You are allowed to feel what you feel, and you can't be expected to "deal with" issues you are afraid to acknowledge. Feelings aren't bad, but when we push them down they push back, urging us to make rash decisions, to self-medicate, or to behave badly, injuring ourselves and those around us.
When we learn to alter our expectations - to lower some of them, and elevate others - we will accept ourselves, our neighbours, our lives, our problems and our opportunities in a more satisfying, unifying and healthy way.
I'm expecting my expectations to change. Are you?
Tuesday, 8 October 2019
In the Shadows - By Sharon Flood Kasenberg
Shadowland
Into the shadowlands I strayed -
where hope does not exist -
where into gray bright colours fade
and all joy is dismissed.
Its borders unmarked, unguarded -
crossed ere I was aware,
and optimism departed
to leave me in despair.
Departing this engulfing gloom
is not an easy chore;
all obstacles appear to loom
more threat'ning than before.
It takes a lot of time to heal
from damage to the soul
that starts when you begin to feel
the shadows take control.
There is a darkened, shady place
that lurks in many hearts
not oft' discerned behind a face
unchanged while hope departs.
Depression fills the soul with shame
until you understand
that only hope's transcendent flame
can light the Shadowland.
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, August 2006
Hope is waning.
This is the only conclusion I can come to when I question the collective misery that seems to be spreading across the face of the planet. You can accuse me of being melodramatic if you wish, and you can tell me you feel fine about the state of the world - that's your prerogative. I simply don't feel the same, and I think I speak for a whole lot of people when I say that.
The way I see it, most of the world seems to be dysthymic at best, and rapidly headed into severe depression. We know things aren't right, and some of us have begun trying to figure out what things are amiss. Others seem unhappy, but place blame everywhere but where it belongs.
Conspiracy theories abound, and denial of real issues runs rampant.
It's hard to see clearly when you keep to the shadows, and indeed it would appear that some might prefer to live in the dark, while the rest of us scramble for candles and flashlights - anything that might shed a little light - and help us find our way out of the shadows.
The world wasn't always so dark and gloomy. It has historically gone through periods of more, and less, illumination. They didn't call one era "the Dark Ages" for nothing. Oh, I know that how dark those days were depends on what aspects of that time period - and what segments of society - you're considering, but there are some undeniably "dark" facts that greatly contributed to why those times were thus labeled.
It appears that as the Roman Empire began to collapse, those the Romans had conquered, or attempted to conquer, became increasingly determined to stomp out anything perceived as "Roman", and this included scientific advances, medical advances and the development of a legal system. The Feudal system came into full swing. Peasants did all the hard labour and saw few rewards while they were taxed at the whim of any neighbouring "Lord" who decided to invade the area. The serfs ate a very scarce diet that was nutrient poor, and drank filthy water. Most had a life expectancy of about thirty, and lived their short lives without any hope of acquiring education, or improving their lot in life in any significant way. Life for the poor was short, dismal and dangerous.
Lets talk about "hope" for a minute. As a concept, it gets a lot of bad press these days. Too often "hope" is equated with a kind of toxic optimism that can leave us all feeling worse. The message that we always need to "be positive" adds a layer of guilt to our despair - one more burden that most of us would prefer to avoid. "Hope" seems like a cheery way to turn a mountain of complicated issues into an irritating molehill that can be leveled with the back of a shovel.
I'm trying hard not to waste my own energy on capital H Hope, and instead look for a few small glimmers of positivity in a world that seems to reward negativity in all of its varied forms. In a world where Google serves us up "facts" to support our every cockamamie theory, I hope I've gained enough humility to embrace my ignorance and accept that I don't have all of the answers even part of the time. In a society where most seem to care more about looking connected than fostering genuine connections with humanity, I hope I can be brave enough to reach out to others in meaningful ways. On social media, where arguments grow increasingly anti-social and civility is scarce, I hope to be able to engage politely.
Small h hope is built when we are willing to make any small change to improve the world around us. One day, when I was feeling quite down I had a video chat with a friend, who proclaimed that I looked "fancy". When you feel dysthymic, hope comes in small packages. It might look like taking a shower and putting on a dab of make-up, even if you aren't leaving the house. It might be demonstrated by leaving the safety of your cocoon and taking a stroll - maybe even planting a smile on your face and waving at a neighbour. It might be something as small as leaving a message online, or making a telephone call to a friend.
Hope might come in small packages, but I've learned that it's hard to carry alone. When we feel stuck in the shadows we need people around us. We need friendships to sustain us, people we trust to tell us to keep moving when every step forward seems to be in slow motion. We need outlets for our unruly emotions and anxieties. We need ears to hear our complaints, and help us transform our endless carping into some kind of action. We need the empathy of peers, and the encouragement of a supportive network. We need community.
For subsistence farmers in the Dark Ages, any degree of hope was pretty well non-existent.
More recent periods in history have given rise to a predominant "middle class", and with that rise, to opportunities that favour more than just the wealthiest among us. Over the past century we've seen incredible advances in science, technology and industry. We've seen women get the right to vote, human rights activism, less bigotry, increased availability of medicine, better sanitation, better education, and more awareness of the plights suffered by the less fortunate.
We've seen enough advancement and enlightenment to give most of us cause to hope that the world was headed in a positive direction.
Many of us wonder how it all got so bad, so fast. Were we not vigilant enough? Did we grow accustomed - maybe even entitled - to the privileges we enjoy?
Sadly, ignorance and greed can halt a lot of advancement fairly quickly, even when it comes from a vocal minority screaming its denial of what most of us view as positive progress.
"Send the immigrants home!"
"I don't mind people of other races, but I don't want them in my neighbourhood..."
"Kids today are so spoiled. They deserve to be poor."
"Low income housing? Who needs it? I'm just happy I can make a killing on my house when I decide to sell!"
"Climate change? Ha, what a joke!"
"Women will let you do anything when you're rich...grab 'em...kiss 'em..."
Does any of this sound familiar?
Dictators take charge and influence the hard-hearted. If the economy seems good, their efforts are praised by those who think any penny they can save on their tax bill is more important than helping the poor, the environment or the mentally ill. The Rain Forests burn while modern day Neros fiddle. Immigrant children fill cages while the First Lady visits their compounds in a jacket emblazoned with the words, "I don't really care." What baffles me is the fact that whole groups of modern day society see no problem with any of this.
Some of us grow increasingly disheartened - hopeless at times. We thought things were looking up! We thought we had seen some proof that most people could see beyond their own noses and actually wanted a world with less economic disparity, more respect for the rights of humanity, more equality between the sexes and well... more kindness and tolerance toward all people. Not just the ones on our pay scale, or the ones who look most like us.
As someone who has battled a little dysthymia over the years, I have come to this conclusion. The flat zones - the shadows - of our emotional and mental state aren't fun. Many might go for months or years with very little variation from a baseline of "Meh". However, the darkest shades of misery often occur when one begins to see a little progress. We fall a bit harder once we've climbed a bit higher. The sad days are more challenging when we've spent some time smiling again.
If we're brave enough to climb, we need to use the buddy system....
The Climb
Making good time, close to the top
onward we climb, then - briefly stop.
Quick glance below shows progress made,
so, on we go, though steep the grade.
No guarantee that we won't fall -
what we can't see can trip us all.
If we should slide from near the top
we can't decide how hard we'll drop.
Thus we accept, when we depart,
we'll be adept - climbing's an art.
There's risk we'll fall with ev'ry climb;
consider all factors each time -
each path we choose, what's in our pack,
where time we'll lose; who has our back.
Climb with a friend, carry some rope -
hand them the end and there is hope
that if you trip close to the top
the rope they grip controls the drop.
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, October 8, 2019
Where there are climbs, there will inevitably be falls. How much they hurt us depends on how much resilience we've built, and most of us need a bit of support if we're going to head uphill again.
Just as a fall from six steps up tends to hurt us more than a stumble on the first or second step, it is harder for us to see in the dark when we've spent some time in the sun. Our eyes search the unaccustomed shadows for a tiny glint of hope to navigate by. Our bones cries out for some sunshine, and our brains program us to feel fear and anxiety over what might be waiting to trip us up.
We are frightened and exhausted; tired of hunting for light sources in a world that seems intent on cutting the cord to every lamp we turn on.
We are confused and disheartened by those who prefer to live in the dark.
We need hope the same way a junkie craves the next fix. It is the only thing that can light up a world full of shadows.
Take my hand and we'll feel our way out of the abyss. Chances of finding that small, elusive bundle of hope are increased when we work together.
Into the shadowlands I strayed -
where hope does not exist -
where into gray bright colours fade
and all joy is dismissed.
Its borders unmarked, unguarded -
crossed ere I was aware,
and optimism departed
to leave me in despair.
Departing this engulfing gloom
is not an easy chore;
all obstacles appear to loom
more threat'ning than before.
It takes a lot of time to heal
from damage to the soul
that starts when you begin to feel
the shadows take control.
There is a darkened, shady place
that lurks in many hearts
not oft' discerned behind a face
unchanged while hope departs.
Depression fills the soul with shame
until you understand
that only hope's transcendent flame
can light the Shadowland.
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, August 2006
Hope is waning.
This is the only conclusion I can come to when I question the collective misery that seems to be spreading across the face of the planet. You can accuse me of being melodramatic if you wish, and you can tell me you feel fine about the state of the world - that's your prerogative. I simply don't feel the same, and I think I speak for a whole lot of people when I say that.
The way I see it, most of the world seems to be dysthymic at best, and rapidly headed into severe depression. We know things aren't right, and some of us have begun trying to figure out what things are amiss. Others seem unhappy, but place blame everywhere but where it belongs.
Conspiracy theories abound, and denial of real issues runs rampant.
It's hard to see clearly when you keep to the shadows, and indeed it would appear that some might prefer to live in the dark, while the rest of us scramble for candles and flashlights - anything that might shed a little light - and help us find our way out of the shadows.
The world wasn't always so dark and gloomy. It has historically gone through periods of more, and less, illumination. They didn't call one era "the Dark Ages" for nothing. Oh, I know that how dark those days were depends on what aspects of that time period - and what segments of society - you're considering, but there are some undeniably "dark" facts that greatly contributed to why those times were thus labeled.
It appears that as the Roman Empire began to collapse, those the Romans had conquered, or attempted to conquer, became increasingly determined to stomp out anything perceived as "Roman", and this included scientific advances, medical advances and the development of a legal system. The Feudal system came into full swing. Peasants did all the hard labour and saw few rewards while they were taxed at the whim of any neighbouring "Lord" who decided to invade the area. The serfs ate a very scarce diet that was nutrient poor, and drank filthy water. Most had a life expectancy of about thirty, and lived their short lives without any hope of acquiring education, or improving their lot in life in any significant way. Life for the poor was short, dismal and dangerous.
Lets talk about "hope" for a minute. As a concept, it gets a lot of bad press these days. Too often "hope" is equated with a kind of toxic optimism that can leave us all feeling worse. The message that we always need to "be positive" adds a layer of guilt to our despair - one more burden that most of us would prefer to avoid. "Hope" seems like a cheery way to turn a mountain of complicated issues into an irritating molehill that can be leveled with the back of a shovel.
I'm trying hard not to waste my own energy on capital H Hope, and instead look for a few small glimmers of positivity in a world that seems to reward negativity in all of its varied forms. In a world where Google serves us up "facts" to support our every cockamamie theory, I hope I've gained enough humility to embrace my ignorance and accept that I don't have all of the answers even part of the time. In a society where most seem to care more about looking connected than fostering genuine connections with humanity, I hope I can be brave enough to reach out to others in meaningful ways. On social media, where arguments grow increasingly anti-social and civility is scarce, I hope to be able to engage politely.
Small h hope is built when we are willing to make any small change to improve the world around us. One day, when I was feeling quite down I had a video chat with a friend, who proclaimed that I looked "fancy". When you feel dysthymic, hope comes in small packages. It might look like taking a shower and putting on a dab of make-up, even if you aren't leaving the house. It might be demonstrated by leaving the safety of your cocoon and taking a stroll - maybe even planting a smile on your face and waving at a neighbour. It might be something as small as leaving a message online, or making a telephone call to a friend.
Hope might come in small packages, but I've learned that it's hard to carry alone. When we feel stuck in the shadows we need people around us. We need friendships to sustain us, people we trust to tell us to keep moving when every step forward seems to be in slow motion. We need outlets for our unruly emotions and anxieties. We need ears to hear our complaints, and help us transform our endless carping into some kind of action. We need the empathy of peers, and the encouragement of a supportive network. We need community.
For subsistence farmers in the Dark Ages, any degree of hope was pretty well non-existent.
More recent periods in history have given rise to a predominant "middle class", and with that rise, to opportunities that favour more than just the wealthiest among us. Over the past century we've seen incredible advances in science, technology and industry. We've seen women get the right to vote, human rights activism, less bigotry, increased availability of medicine, better sanitation, better education, and more awareness of the plights suffered by the less fortunate.
We've seen enough advancement and enlightenment to give most of us cause to hope that the world was headed in a positive direction.
Many of us wonder how it all got so bad, so fast. Were we not vigilant enough? Did we grow accustomed - maybe even entitled - to the privileges we enjoy?
Sadly, ignorance and greed can halt a lot of advancement fairly quickly, even when it comes from a vocal minority screaming its denial of what most of us view as positive progress.
"Send the immigrants home!"
"I don't mind people of other races, but I don't want them in my neighbourhood..."
"Kids today are so spoiled. They deserve to be poor."
"Low income housing? Who needs it? I'm just happy I can make a killing on my house when I decide to sell!"
"Climate change? Ha, what a joke!"
"Women will let you do anything when you're rich...grab 'em...kiss 'em..."
Does any of this sound familiar?
Dictators take charge and influence the hard-hearted. If the economy seems good, their efforts are praised by those who think any penny they can save on their tax bill is more important than helping the poor, the environment or the mentally ill. The Rain Forests burn while modern day Neros fiddle. Immigrant children fill cages while the First Lady visits their compounds in a jacket emblazoned with the words, "I don't really care." What baffles me is the fact that whole groups of modern day society see no problem with any of this.
Some of us grow increasingly disheartened - hopeless at times. We thought things were looking up! We thought we had seen some proof that most people could see beyond their own noses and actually wanted a world with less economic disparity, more respect for the rights of humanity, more equality between the sexes and well... more kindness and tolerance toward all people. Not just the ones on our pay scale, or the ones who look most like us.
As someone who has battled a little dysthymia over the years, I have come to this conclusion. The flat zones - the shadows - of our emotional and mental state aren't fun. Many might go for months or years with very little variation from a baseline of "Meh". However, the darkest shades of misery often occur when one begins to see a little progress. We fall a bit harder once we've climbed a bit higher. The sad days are more challenging when we've spent some time smiling again.
If we're brave enough to climb, we need to use the buddy system....
The Climb
Making good time, close to the top
onward we climb, then - briefly stop.
Quick glance below shows progress made,
so, on we go, though steep the grade.
No guarantee that we won't fall -
what we can't see can trip us all.
If we should slide from near the top
we can't decide how hard we'll drop.
Thus we accept, when we depart,
we'll be adept - climbing's an art.
There's risk we'll fall with ev'ry climb;
consider all factors each time -
each path we choose, what's in our pack,
where time we'll lose; who has our back.
Climb with a friend, carry some rope -
hand them the end and there is hope
that if you trip close to the top
the rope they grip controls the drop.
By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, October 8, 2019
Where there are climbs, there will inevitably be falls. How much they hurt us depends on how much resilience we've built, and most of us need a bit of support if we're going to head uphill again.
Just as a fall from six steps up tends to hurt us more than a stumble on the first or second step, it is harder for us to see in the dark when we've spent some time in the sun. Our eyes search the unaccustomed shadows for a tiny glint of hope to navigate by. Our bones cries out for some sunshine, and our brains program us to feel fear and anxiety over what might be waiting to trip us up.
We are frightened and exhausted; tired of hunting for light sources in a world that seems intent on cutting the cord to every lamp we turn on.
We are confused and disheartened by those who prefer to live in the dark.
We need hope the same way a junkie craves the next fix. It is the only thing that can light up a world full of shadows.
Take my hand and we'll feel our way out of the abyss. Chances of finding that small, elusive bundle of hope are increased when we work together.
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