Appreciate and Dream

Recently I had someone tell me that I don't appreciate some of the things that are in my life. My gut reaction to this was outrage, making me want to fight back with my denials- and some of that did happen. However, after the fire died down,I had time to reflect (something that has been force fed into me with this Masters program that I am enrolled in). And I began to wonder if I really had become too comfortable, thereby making me ungrateful. Of course, this self reflection led to my overthinking which is how this blog started in the first place.

A few years ago, I felt as though I had arrived at a place in my life where I was very unappreciative of the many blessings I had- to the point where I felt almost entitled to my good fortune. Until this past week, I thought that I had worked through that phase and finally arrived at a mid point of balance where I try not to take anyone or anything for granted, where I appreciate what I have, and if I want more I work for it. Apparently I haven't been as successful at maintaining that balance as I thought.

This has led, of course, to a new plan- kind of an old plan that is being revisited and revised for my life right now.

1. Every morning write down three things that I am grateful for. This could be the people in my life, the home that I live in, the new connections that I am making that are helping me to grow and learn, the education that I am so fortunate to have access to, or even the new coffee maker sitting on the kitchen counter. Big or small, if I am grateful, it gets added to the list. I only add 3 per day, but it is a continuous, always growing list.

2. Each day write down one thing that I want to accomplish in my life. Again this can mean grand goals like finishing my Masters degree, writing a book, developing educational resources, running a half marathon or it can mean something simple like learning how to bake an apple pie that you don't have to eat with a spoon, taking a ski lesson to keep up with my son on the slopes, or entering a dance competition. This is also a list that continues to grow.

These two lists will give me balance and perspective. I can dream big and small while still remaining grounded with who and what in my life are helping me to achieve these dreams.

Last weekend I watched the movie Bridesmaids with my daughter. Although it was a laugh out loud comedy as I had expected, it also had an unexpected message. The lead character is kind of pathetic as her life goes from bad to worst as she watches her best friend plan and live her dream wedding. At first I felt sympathetic towards Annie as she had lost her cake business during the Recession, she had a job in a jewelry store and had to help countless couples who were sickeningly in love select wedding rings, her best friend was getting married, she lived with a pitiable brother/sister landlord duo, and she "dated" a man who only met her when it suited him. But as her situations seemed to become more complicated, it was obvious that Annie was her own worst enemy. She was also quite adept at pinning the responsibility for her woes on other people and circumstances beyond her control, which was not the case. Finally, Megan- the tell it like it is bridesmaid- launches a physical attack on Annie to get her to fight back and take control of her life again. Instead of letting life beat you up, get up and fight. Look around at what you can do, at what you have, and fight.

Life wasn't hitting me on the head or flipping me backwards off the sofa. It didn't have to. All I needed to do was take notice of what is right in front of me, and to appreciate what and who I have in my life. Appreciate and dream, that is the new plan.

The Presence

I wrote this for a writing contest a few years ago. It suits my mood today. The end of it is what I need to focus on. We all need a presence in our life to keep us going when we feel as though we can't take one more step, or one more breath. I won't lose my faith in what is good and right, it's just that some days are more difficult than others.


The inevitable letdown attacked her early this year. It was just two days after the frenzied celebration of Jesus’ birth: a baby whose human life had apparently been sparked by the miracle of an Immaculate Conception.

Peace, joy, and glory to God in the Highest were vacant from her mind as she felt the strength melt from her limbs. With each passing second, her body oozed her will out of every pore until she was merely a puddle of flesh, muscles, bones, and tears on her kitchen floor.

At first, it felt like a small nudge, then a sharp poke, and finally, a kick in the stomach that made the bile rise in her throat and threaten to spill out of her whimpering mouth. Through the reddened slits of her eyes she tried to see who was causing her suffering and misery to intensify.

She saw ripples of movement, but no person.
She felt a presence of peace, and warmth touched her skin.
She heard the echo of the voice in her head.
“Get up my child. My vision for you is not yet complete. I breathe my strength and my hope into your soul to give you the will to move, to rise, to have faith.”

Upon hearing those words, the burden in her heart shifted enough to allow her to pull herself up. The power of the message slowly filled her. She could live again.

Life throws things at us for a reason. Sometimes it just takes a bit longer to figure out the reason.

The Chocolate is back, and I promise the next post will be more uplifting.

It is OK to Cry

I am a quick crier. I believe that I have been genetically wired to respond to emotional situations with tears. This happens when I'm happy, sad, angry, frustrated, scared, and definitely when I'm hormonal. It is not something that I'm proud of. In fact, I am embarrassed by how quickly the tears can well up, usually accompanied with a very red nose that also begins to run- not very attractive. As I have gotten older, I have tried to control my weeping responses. When I feel the burn beginning at the back of my eyes and the tingling at the tip of my nose, I know that I am on the verge of a PDE (Public Display of Emotion). Deep breathing helps. Removing myself mentally from the situation has also been a trick that I have used. But sometimes, I just have to let the waterworks flow. With the release of the tears also comes the release of the tension that I feel in trying to hold it all in. What's wrong with showing people that I care, or that I have feelings that are very visible? If I asked my children this question, I know that they would say that it embarrasses the people who I am with. They would be speaking from experience. Others have told me that it makes me appear weak, that I am seeking attention, that I use it as a strategy to evoke sympathy from others, thereby getting what I want in a difficult situation. However, when I reflect on the reasons why, I know that there really is no ulterior motive. It is what I do. It is a response that is as natural to me as someone who shouts when she is angry, or someone who withdraws into herself when sad.

Last night I once again found myself in a very public social setting when one of my emotional moments surfaced. I am a volunteer with the Sunshine Foundation Dreams for Kids which is Canadian organization that provides dreams for children across Canada who are living with severe physical disabilities or life threatening illnesses. It is a charity that is dear to my heart, and one that I believe truly makes a difference in the lives of the children and families that it helps. Throughout the year, our Sunshine Chapter is involved in a variety of fundraising initiatives in order to continue to raise money to make dreams come true. Each year our biggest fundraiser is our Spring Suitcase Party. With generous donations from many sponsors, we are able to provide an evening of dinner and entertainment with a chance to win one of 3 donated trips. I am always amazed by the money and prizes that are so generously donated as we are also able to fill the evening with many opportunities to win other prizes as well. The people who attend the event are also to be commended by how quickly they open their purses and wallets as they are asked to buy door prize tickets, surprise suitcase tickets, 50/50 tickets, and bid on silent auction items. In the many years that I have attended and helped with this evening, I have never heard a negative comment or complaint about the number of times we approach with yet more tickets in hand. Last night, I was in charge of selling tickets for our Surprise Suitcase draw. No sooner had people arrived and paid for their tickets for the evening, and there I was asking them to buy more tickets. There wasn't one person who said no to me, and not one person who appeared annoyed with the request.

Once the crowd was settled at their tables, we wanted to ensure that our sponsors were recognized as the evening would not be possible without them. The lights were dimmed, the power point presentation began with the listing of our sponsors, background music with the theme of 'making dreams come true' was playing, and that is when I felt that familiar sensation- the prickly eyes, the tingling nose. I knew that the tears were soon to appear. When the presentation went on to include pictures of recent dream presentations in our area, I didn't even try to hold back the tears(although I was glad that the room was dark). How could I not react to the photo of the ecstatic boy who had just undergone a kidney transplant- donated by his father- as he held up every imaginable electronic device that a twelve year old boy could hope to claim as his own. This boy's dream was to have a bedroom makeover as he was confined to his home for three months following his surgery. Next, were photos of another twelve year old boy, who has been blind since birth, as he was presented with a dream trip to Disney World in Florida for him and his family. Jason's dream was particularly meaningful to me as I know the family personally, and I know the struggles that they have faced over the years.
As we finished viewing the photos, and then watched the Sunshine Foundation's public awareness video highlighting many dreams across Canada, the room filled with 200 people was silent. How could it not be when you listened to the stories of these brave children and then saw the smiles on their faces when they received their dreams? It makes each one of us grateful and humble.

If my tears make me appear weak, dramatically emotional, or embarras the people around me, then so be it. It is a part of who I am that I am learning to accept and embrace. It is my way to show that I care, that I have feelings, and that I am real.

The Return of the Chocolate

It has been more than 9 months since my last post. I honestly thought that the Chocolate of Women had melted away into a forgotten milk chocolate pool. There are many reasons why The Chocolate lay dormant, but there is only one reason why I have decided to resurrect it- I love to read what the voice inside my head is saying as the words are screaming to get out, to make myself heard.

At this moment in my life, I have a strong need to shout for change.

"Change is challenging. We get accustomed to things as they are, but change can bring new opportunities you would never know if things remained the same. Give it a try and stretch beyond your limits...through change your soul will take flight...you will soar!"

The preceding quote was taken from the Facebook status of "I Believe She Is Amazing". I have written about this incredible movement of women in an earlier post. It exemplifies the power of friendship and the lasting effect that the people in our lives can have. This quote appeared a few days ago, and it spoke to me so strongly that I had to copy it and post it on my status as well. Finally, I was given the motivation I needed to write again.

But, why this quote? Why now? I have always believed that change is a necessary part of life. I am not a person who dreads it, but instead I welcome it with open arms. I feel like a caged animal when the circumstances of my life remain stagnant, especially when they seem out of my control. There isn't one area of my life that is left untouched by this need for change- my career, my writing, my family and friends, my home, my desire to learn and do more. I have made a decision recently that is going to change and affect each one of these life circumstances. I am facing the challenge of the change with excitement tinged with fear and a bit of nostalgia. But, I know that I am ready, and I know that I am capable of coping with the good and the bad that comes with any change.

Someone once presented the analogy of a wind chime to me when referring to change in a person's life. She said that I am like the center chime. The movement of the wind is the change in my life. As the wind becomes stronger, each of the chimes begins to sway in reaction. Sometimes the change is welcome and produces a sweet, melodius harmony. However, it can sometimes be considered an intrusion resulting in harsh discord. I can't control the reaction of the chimes around me, but I can control the music that I choose to have in my life.

There are days that I feel as though everyone is telling me what to do, how to think, how to be better, what to choose, and how I should be living my life. The past few weeks have been filled with these 'helpful' suggestions from people that I expect it from, and from others who surprised me with what they were saying and how they were saying it. I'm told that these suggestions are what make me stronger. I guess I will find out. I will face the change, and I will "stretch beyond my limits", on my own or with you. We'll see.

A Child Stranger

A few weeks ago, I posted the comment "Sometimes something appears in your life at just the right time, for reasons that are only clear to you." Another such moment occurred in my life just yesterday.

It was another testing day in London for my youngest daughter- more of a check up than any real concern, but still a full day. Although necessary, the thoughts of sitting in that room for hours, the sounds, the smells, the bad decor and the trigger of memories, created a sense of claustrophobia, and a need for escape. As my daughter was led away by a trusted professional, I was left with a mound of psychological questionnaires to be completed "to the best of your ability and memory, Ms. Van Moorsel". I'm sure the look wasn't meant to be pretentiously sympathetic, but honestly, how many other parents had she handed the same clipboard to, with the same duty of questions to be answered. Why was I so grumpy? I had done this before. I knew the drill.

Trying to knock the chip off my shoulder as I settled into the task at hand, I was about one third of the way through my first set of coloured circles, when three rambunctious children- ages approximately 3-9- came roaring through the door, and proceeded to argue over the antiquated table top hockey game sitting on a pint size table in the middle of the already crowded room. Of course, my feet got stepped on, my clipboard was knocked off my knee, my concentration was instantaneously snapped. I tried to conjure up memories of my own experiences in trying to handle three children being dragged to a place where they obviously didn't want to be. This helped to quell the impatience building up inside of me- for a bit. The dad floated in and out of the room as he tried in vain to keep the kids under some semblance of control, while speaking to the receptionist, and then disappearing altogether, leaving the 9 year old in charge, as he had forgotten something in the car. I was starting to thaw a bit more as once again, I remembered being the parent of three young children and trying to be in three places at once, without looking like a negligent parent. When dad reappeared, he resumed his questioning of the receptionist, and then, with the announcement of a patient's name over the hospital intercom system, immediately told daughter number 2 (approximately 5 years old) that it was time for her test. Baby brother was scooped up into dad's arms; daughter number 2 stood frozen in the middle of the room and then began to sob quietly; daughter number 1 rushed to her side, gave her a hug, and promised her that it wouldn't hurt, and she needed to be brave just like the other times. Not only had my chip been completely knocked off my shoulder, and my paperwork forgotten, but my motherly instinct kicked in as I wondered how I could help this distraught family. Before I had time to act, dad, still trying to balance baby brother but now with daughter number 2 openly sobbing and gripping his arm like a vice, disappeared out the door and down the hall.

I must have been openly staring because as soon as daughter number 1 sat down in one of those pint sized chairs, she looked up at me with tears in her eyes.
"She always gets scared when she has to have her MRI. Even though she's had so many, she doesn't like them. She has a brain tumour you know, and it makes me sad to see her scared."

Not only thawed, but completely melting in a pool by my feet, my heart went out to this child, forced to grow up too quickly. To wonder about the injustice of such a situation would drive any family mad with the question "Why?". For me, the "why" of their situation was answered when I listened to that 9 year old girl openly proclaim her love for her little sister. I needed to hear that on this particular day. I needed to have my faith and belief in the love we have for the people in our lives once again restored. That family, faced with the fight of a lifetime, gave me two gifts yesterday- the gift of perspective, and the gift of appreciation- and for that I thank them.

"I Believe She's Amazing"

http://www.ibelieveshesamazing.com./


Sometimes something appears in your life at just the right time, for reasons that are only clear to you. The link that I started this post with, is exactly one of those perfectly timed "somethings". As soon as I read the message on the "I Believe She's Amazing" website, and watched the YouTube video in honor of Erika Heller, I knew that I had to write about this extraordinary woman and her best friend.

My strong belief in connecting women, sharing our stories, and creating strength for one another is the reason that I started this blog. At that Perils of Perfectionism workshop that I attended almost one year ago, I was inspired to find my own way of sharing and communicating. I wanted everyone to know that I wasn't perfect, but that didn't matter. As long as I knew that I strived for excellence in all that I did, as long as I knew that I tried my best to befriend, to mother, to grow, and to love, then the people in my life would accept my imperfections and know that they didn't matter. I wanted The Chocolate of Women to be a space where women felt safe in sharing, what they consider, their flaws and weaknesses. But, I also wanted a forum for shouting our accomplishments with confidence.

What does this have to do with "I Believe She's Amazing" and Erika Heller's story? The passion I have for bringing women together- for me through my writing- was mirrored and magnified for me when I read about Kim MacGregor's living legacy in honour of her best friend. Kim's words show her love for her best friend, and also her passion for her belief in women.

"I love the song I Believe (from the movie Honey, sung by Yolanda Adams), in part because Erika gave me a necklace with the word believe etched on it. Now I believe in something bigger: that this one video can unite 1,000,000 people globally, creating the largest living legacy of friendship.

I hope this story and the video inspire you, put a smile on your face, and remind you of the amazing women in your own life who make your world a better place. This site gives you the chance to say "I believe she's amazing" to all the moms, sisters, aunts, grandmas, teachers, daughters, wives and girlfriends who matter and who make you believe in yourself!"

I have joined Kim's journey to unite, and I believe that I can inspire even more women to recognize the amazing women in their lives. So, come along on the ride to 1,000,000.

Thank You

With each new blog post, I am always amazed with some of the responses that I get, and by the people who are actually reading what I write. This past week, however, I was humbled and honoured by the response to the email that I sent out to my contact list to notify my fellow "chocolate" women that I was indeed back from the abyss of not knowing what to write, how much to write, and determining whether to write at all. It wasn't just the encouragement that I received to continue with the sharing of my mind. It was also the courage that women have had to share their own experiences with me. Some of these experiences are life changing and dramatic, others are frustrations of daily living mixed with simple pleasures. Your stories inspire me to continue to write. They also remind me to absorb more of what I am actually writing in order to live the life that I really want. They remind me that we are part of a larger community of women, and this makes the isolation of the problems seem much less overwhelming.

A couple of months ago, I wrote a posting entitled "Digging Out From Under A Bad Week". I made a list that I was going to try to live by that would not only get me through the bad weeks, but would also allow me to build up my tolerance and strength during the good weeks. Somehow, that list, and the confidence of that list, was sucked from consciousness, and was finally excavated from my subconscious mind over the past few days. The reacquaintance with my blog, the writing of my new post, the emails, and the conversations all guided me back to that list.

* Each day, I will do one thing just for me. This may be as simple as going to a yoga class, sipping on a tea with no interruptions, or writing on my blog (also uninterrupted). Or it could be as grandiose as planning a vacation or indulging in a spa day.

This was the number one item on my list, and this is the item that I made sure that I selfishly adhered to once again. So what did I do this week?
* read for fun at least once a day
* started planning my summer
* started writing again
* took off on my bike
* watched International House Hunters every night (current favourite show)
* went dancing
* coffee every morning; tea at night
* sat by a lake
* dreamed of a vacation home

Not bad for one week. With a bit of awareness, I actually amazed myself with my "what I did for me" list. Maybe that's the key. Try to remember what made you feel good at the end of the day, write it down, or say it out loud. This makes for a much better sleep aid than dredging up the bad.

So, thank you for reading, thank you for writing back, and thank you for making me seem normal.

To Travel- An Escape, Maybe. A Lesson, Definitely.

Two books that are permanent fixtures on my coffee table are Art & Architecture Tuscany, and Unforgettable Things to do Before You Die. They are not there for decoration. Anyone who knows me well, knows that I will someday go to Tuscany to visit the village of Cortona. I will also visit the Thermal Spas in Iceland and cycle through Vietnam. I will not let these and the other visions that fill my head be idle dreams. On my own, or with company, I am going.

Since I was very small, I loved the thrill of travelling. From the packing to go, through to the unpacking when I got home, it was always a great adventure for me. Growing up, the traveling usually involved camping at a variety of campgrounds in Ontario, first in a tent, then graduating to the more luxurious tent trailer. The memories of those trips are so clear in my mind. They may not be exotic, but it doesn't matter. I was learning, and I was living the moments of my life. As my current favourite motivational speaker says "Create new stories", and that's what I was doing, even as a child. I remember falling out of the wing of the tent trailer wrapped up and upside down in my sleeping bag; almost catching my first rainbow trout as my dad leaned over to net it, and it jumped off the hook; canoeing on Bass Lake; jumping from the dock water tower for the first time; playing Bloody Murder amongst the rocks and bushes of almost every campground we visited; hiding the fact that I had a secret crush on the uniformed guard at the Fortress of Louisburg; huddling in the family station wagon to wait out the night long thunderstorm as we watched our tent bending, trying to fight off the wind and the rain.

Even though there is such a feeling of comfort in those simple memories, those are stories from the past. Now, I want to continue to create new stories. I want to share my love of learning about new places and new people. With our world becoming smaller with each passing year, I want to be part of that global community. I want to make my world bigger. I don't want to lose out on the momentum of learning about my neighbours across the street, and my neighbours across the Atlantic. Someone once said to me "Joanne, don't be so scared. Don't worry what people are thinking. People are people no matter where you are. People want to learn about you as much as you want to learn about them." Another lesson, definitely.

To be judged for wanting to make your world grow, and for wanting to be a student of the world, can make you feel suffocated by the claustrophobia of those small box judgments and rules. To rise above those opinions and to live by your values can suddenly make the walls of that small box collapse. My dreams of travel- down the highway on my new bike, on a train through the mountains, on a plane to the Far East, or in my car to the spa- make life seem lighter, make life the adventure that it should be. An escape, maybe. But, also another lesson.

Julia Child? Maybe Not...

A few weeks ago, I watched the Meryl Streep movie Julie and Julia. I have a secret love/hate relationship with cooking. I love the idea of being able to cook; getting lost in the flavours, the aromas, reveling in the knowledge that I could be a snobbish foodie discussing exotic herbs and spices, hosting formal dinner parties with just the right wine for each course of the meal. But, I hate the idea of not measuring up- perfectionist tendencies kick into high gear when I play the role of chef, and then spiral quickly downward into a pit of despair when my meal is a disastrous flop. And, of course, the easy fall back excuse for many of us- I don't have the time. But, after watching this movie, I was once again inspired by the desire to find another new escape, and one that I could either enjoy in solitude, or share the fruits of with my family and friends.

Briefly, the movie is a parallel between the rise of Julia Child as a chef in the late 1940's, and 'Julie', a struggling writer in 2002. Julie feels as though her life is stuck, and in an effort to complete at least one thing that she starts, she decides to prepare each recipe from Julia Child's cookbook Mastering The Art of French Cooking, all within the time frame of one year. To compound the pressure, she creates an online blog to record her cooking journey, and hopefully, hook some readers into following her bizarre personal quest, which documents not only her kitchen successes and catastrophes, but also exposes her fears and vulnerabilities as a writer, a cook, and a woman. Hence, the immediate connection I felt to the character of 'Julie', and the parallel I drew between her blog and mine. One minor difference- her blog drew thousands of readers, and eventually a book contract. Hmmm, maybe the cooking was the deal maker.

Always on the hunt for my next big inspiration, or even just a hint of one to make a bad day good again, I have decided to borrow Julie's idea in a much more condensed version, and probably, a lot less healthy. I love chocolate, as you all know. And I love to bake. My new goal- create one chocolate recipe each week. I'm not going to limit myself to one particular cook book, to new recipes, to tried and true recipes; the only requirement is that at least one of the ingredients is some form of chocolate (see the new addition to my Blog's sidebar "Chocolate Recipes"). This past Sunday seemed like a perfect day to begin my own bizarre quest. I had the whole day stretched out in front of me with no commitments, no children, and no urgent school work looming. Not being able to use my faithful 'I have no time to cook' excuse, I decided to expand my mission to a full meal. A quick visit to one of my favourite recipe websites "Epicurious" (see my favourite links list), and I had the ingredient list for chicken parmesan with a spicy tomato sauce. Added to my list were a bed of greens sprinkled with a touch of balsamic vinegar, and of course, the necessary items for my Aunt Jean's Mix Easy Cake, which includes a triple layering of chocolate. I felt completely justified in this guilty undertaking, following an 8km run which, unbelievably, energized me for the cooking/baking party that I was hosting for myself. The aroma of the freshly minced garlic, combined with the sizzling of the chopped onion, basil, oregano, marjoram, and hot yellow peppers, all allowed me to begin the gradual process of getting lost in my cooking. As the rest of the ingredients were added to the spicy tomato sauce, the simmering smell filled my home, and I actually felt like a real cook. An hour and a half later, I sat down with my plate decorated with the chicken parmesan layered delicately on my bed of greens, coupled with penne pasta smothered in my hot sauce, all while the smell of my Aunt Jean's cake was wafting from the oven and slowly overtaking the lingering scents of the main course.

Stuffed beyond being able to do up my jeans (if I had been wearing jeans-I was still in my running gear), I forced- ok maybe that word choice is too strong- I persuaded myself to complete the masterpiece of my meal. I expertly timed the icing of the cake. Warm, but not hot, as I smothered my own simple recipe of chocolate icing on top of the cake to ooze slightly into the top layer. If the timing is off by even a few minutes, the icing will either drip and slide to the edges of the pan leaving a bald spot in the middle of the cake, or if it is too cool, the icing covers the cake like a blanket on a baby instead of melting its gooey flavours together into one big chocoate orgasm of flavour.

Content in mind and stomach, I ended my evening with a relaxing cup of green tea, knowing that I was prepared for the barrage of the week ahead. And, once again, the images of that cooking class in the Tuscan Valley of Italy were playing like a friendly old movie in my head.

Bought!!!

Just as the selling of my Seadoo provided me with a sense of relief combined with an exhilarating high of "good riddance", this past Sunday the purchase of my new road bicycle brought the contrasting high of "welcome to my new life". It may seem as though this retail therapy was in reaction to my bad week. I would be lying if I didn't admit that the endorphins were pumping when I sat on my bicycle knowing that it was soon to be at home in my garage. However, this was not an impulse purchase. A combination of the streak of warm weather, the persuasion of "my people", and the chance to add one more chocolate escape to my life led to this decision.

And now, with the addition of more chocolate, the new lingo forced new learning and expanded my vocabulary: "checking the geometry" "105 front derailer and Altegra rear derailer" "mountain set up" "hydration system" "carbon forks and carbon seat post" blah, blah, blah... Although I sounded like I was well-educated, honestly, without the crash course of bike language over the past few weeks, and the instant text messages appearing on my phone, I would have made my bike selection because it was purple. The facade I presented to the salesman evaporated very quickly as he saw me trying to relay his sales pitch via instant message. My cover blown, he patiently dictated and spelled the information for me as I sought the expert opinion of someone who wasn't working for commission.

Once the decision was made, and the pile of bike necessities grew, I was like a kid with my first bicycle. The mood of the cold, rainy weather on Sunday didn't deter me. And even though I wasn't able to take my bike with me that day, my excitement didn't diminish either. It was a day that I needed to do something just for me. I am determined to live by my new plan that I set out in my last post, and the first item on that list is to do something every day just for me. I guess the purchase of the bicycle would be considered one of the more "grandiose" things that I was referring to. But, with this latest acquisition, I will be able to fill many more days with "just for me" bike rides and tours with friends.

Once again I can revisit my "One Year From Now" list, and this time I can check off "buy a bike". And maybe, when I check it again next year, I will be planning my bike tour of Europe...with a stop in Tuscany for that cooking class!

Digging Out From Under a Bad Week

I haven't had a very good week. The reasons behind some of the drama could have been avoided. Some of the confrontations were unnecessary. At one point, I was so frustrated with the lack of control that I felt over what was happening around me, that I turned off my phones, shut down my computer, and I hibernated. I fed my energy with a day of teaching, a hard run with my iPod shuffle on high volume, and a cup of tea. None of these things made the problems go away. But each of these things prodded my thinking, and made me take a baby step forward into taking back the control.

When I first started this blog, I was feeling the high of a woman's workshop that gave each one of us a sense of empowerment. The Perils of Perfectionism allowed me to believe that I could strive for excellence in all that I set my mind to, without the pressure of living up to unrealistic expectations, and without looking behind me to see what others were thinking, saying, and doing. My blog was going to help me focus, to make sure that I kept a healthy balance in my life. But why is it, that with just a few words, some people seem to have the power to make me stray from this path of excellence. Over the past month I have felt the chipping away of my resolve to lead the life that I want. The signs were beginning to show- difficulty sleeping, mood swings, skin break outs, and a feeling of heaviness that I couldn't seem to shake. With each decision that was made for me, with each battle that seemed to arise, and with each push away from what I wanted, I felt myself shut down.

This past week, however, the shut down affected so much of what was good in my life, that I became angry. Angry enough to finally have the courage to stand up for me again. I will not let the influence of people who I have little respect for, people who have no right to impose their manipulation on me, bring me to this mood of helplessness.

So what am I going to do? I can't just rant and rave on my blog about the unfairness of life. That is not me. That is not why I started writing...and it is not productive. We all face unfairness, and we all have our own issues to cope with. I needed to come up with a plan.

* Each day, I will do one thing just for me. This may be as simple as going to a yoga class, sipping on a tea with no interruptions, or writing on my blog (also uninterrupted). Or it could be as grandiose as planning a vacation or indulging in a spa day.

* My home will be welcome to those who treat me with the respect that I know I deserve. If you come into my home and make me feel uncomfortable, make me feel unsafe, or push your unwanted words at me, then you will be asked to leave.

* I will become the friend, partner, and parent that the people in my life deserve to have, when I feel the same sense of worthiness and value coming from them. It is okay to question. It is okay to disagree. But, it is not okay to ridicule, bully, unnecessarily antagonize, or purposely invite confrontation.

* I will not be silent. My doctor once said to me "People will only walk all over you, if you lay down and let them." If there is something that I disagree with, I will voice my opinion. If I have an idea that I want to share, I will not feel intimidated. I will communicate what is important to me.

* My dreams will be shared only with those who are willing to help me achieve them. It takes courage to share your dreams with someone, and it is a privilege to be allowed to become part of the making of those dreams.

* For the people who are fortunate enough to be part of my life, I will help you, I will encourage you, and I will do this with no questions asked.

* I will read; I will write; I will teach; and I will learn. I will remember that these are the things that motivate me and drive my ambition.

Today is a better day. Although I don't want to feed on the negativity through my writing, it is through writing my blog that I let myself know, and I let other women know, that the struggle for balance is ongoing. There are going to be good weeks and bad weeks, and it is important for me to share the bad. It is what makes me human, and makes my writing more real.

Sold!!!

I know it's just a machine. I should not attach any kind of sentiment-positive or negative-to something so materialistic. The very fact that I am writing yet another blog entry about "the seadoo", reinforces my decision to sell it. The very item that caused me so much grief last year on my trek north to the cottage, was already beginning to, once again, weigh heavily on my mind as the warm summer months creep steadily closer. I have learned to listen to that voice inside my head. I have learned to pay attention to that sick knotted feeling in my stomach. I have finally learned that if I want to own any kind of mechanical apparatus, it had better look at home in my kitchen and produce something edible. Even then, success is not guaranteed (hence the dream of learning to cook in Italy).

I was tired of seeing my seadoo taking up precious garage space, and annoyed with parking my one cooperative vehicle so close to the overhead gargage door that I feared the sound of metal on metal each time I closed that door. As a result, I made my annual call to my local Seadoo dealer, determined to rid myself of this nagging machine once and for all. Of course, he didn't put much faith in my determination, as I had made the same call, at the same time of year, for the past three years.

"Are you sure you really want to sell it this year, Joanne?" (disbelief mixed with just a pinch of annoyance)

"I'm sure. I want that thing out of my garage. I don't want to have to think about it or fix it. I want it gone." (said with much conviction, but like I said, he had heard it all before).

True to his job though, he did put the word out, and called me each time with the offers, until one finally came through that I was not going to pass. As much as I wanted my nemesis gone from my life, I had done my homework, researched the going prices, and I knew that the time of year was in my favour.

This past Sunday, as my Seadoo dealer man backed his pick up truck into my driveway, hooked up my seadoo, and then drove off, an incredible feeling of lightness settled inside me. It was more than ridding myself of the stress of maintaining another vehicle. It was more than having my garage back. It was a purging of the last materialistic item that I had brought with me from my married life. A feeling of calm acceptance, and giddy freedom filled me. I felt like dancing, and I felt like singing- very loudly.

Over-analyzing? Perhaps, but as a close friend of mine recently pointed out to me, I seem to have the capability (or maybe the curse) of philosophizing about such mundane things as my laundry. So I guess the farewell of a reminder of who I once was, compared to the person I feel like I am growing into, should be worthy of a few minutes of celebration, and of course, analysis.

Today's Mantra

Two Definitions of "Strong"

"Having force of character, will, morality, or intelligence: a strong personality."

"Not easily upset; resistant to harmful or unpleasant influences: strong nerves; a strong stomach."

This post may seem vague, and a little unusual. But, it was a necessary mantra for me this morning. I would rather have the preceding definitions of "strong" on the front page of my day today, than let others take control and weaken my resolve.

Whatever brick wall you are up against, be strong, take action, and take control.

My Vision Board

Four years ago, when the life that I was living at that time seemed unpredictable, and filled with both dread and excitement, I easily fell into the realm of self-reflection. I'm sure that most people who are experiencing life changes would admit to the same philosophical ponderings; consciously or not. My own life analysis was definitely scrutinized with eyes wide open.

Included in the many resources of self understanding was The Secret, the instantaneously popular philosophy that was the answer to our most important life matters; relationships, prosperity, health and overall happiness. An overwhelmingly large part of my psyche at that time was immediately drawn to, what seemed like, the answer to how I could finally get everything I wanted in my life. Simply put, the philosophy focuses on the Law of Attraction as the universal law that shapes what is brought in to our lives. Through our thoughts and feelings, we draw the experiences, the wealth, the relationships into our lives- basically we attract these things. Since then, I have read more about the Law of Attraction. I find the belief fascinating, as well as powerful for me. It gives me a sense of control over what is happening in my life. Maybe it is not just the thoughts and feelings I am having that is creating the life I am living, maybe it is also these same thoughts and feelings that are providing me with the drive and ambition to do something about the things that I don't like. Maybe it is the universe allowing the pieces of my attractions to fall into place. However I interpret it, I'm not going to let this happen without having some awareness and control over what those conscious or unconscious thoughts can drop on my doorstep.

The one thing that repeatedly appears in everything I've ever read about the Law of Attraction, is the making of a personal vision board. Get pictures of the things that you want to attract in your life; cut them out; glue them on a board. In this age of technology, I was too lazy to buy a board, some glue, and then to find pictures that could be cut and pasted on to this board. Instead, I adapted. I made my vision board work for me, so that not only could I easily access my "wish list", but when I did, it was an immediate mood lifter. I created a vision board file on my computer. I scoured the internet for the pictures that provided me with my ambition, then copied them into my Vision Board file. Now, when I need a reminder, or when I want to add, and sometimes delete, items from my board, I open my file, and then set my computer to slide show. I sit back and enjoy the show.

Included in my adaptation of the Vision Board idea, was the making of my "One Year from Now" list. Despite the stories of other people's successes with the Law of Attraction, I still had a hint of skepticism lurking behind my optimism. However, with the creation of my "One Year from Now" list, which I first started almost two years ago, the skepticism has fallen far behind. Every few months I revisit my list. Often there are items on the list that I have completely forgotten. But what is most astounding to me are the number of items on the list that I have accomplished, or that actually became a part of my life. It would be unrealistic to say that every single item became apparent in my life. Instead, what I have noticed is that the items that never did come to pass, were usually items that had no appeal to me anymore. I was no longer attracting those things into my life. Because of these continuous changes, I began to make new lists each time I revisited my "One Year from Now". And each time, I am always in awe of what happens in my life over the course of a few months.

Why do I do it? My vision board, and my lists give me the direction I need. They force me to always be re-evaulating what it is that I want in my life, and how I am going to get there. They make me change directions. They make me take control. They make me responsible.

"...know that you alone control your happiness and it is a choice, no matter what anyone else is doing." from The Secret.

"...and still we rise"

The title for the conference that I attended last week in Toronto came from the title of the poem "Still I Rise" by Maya Angelou. Originally written to portray the message of perseverance shown by African Americans in facing racism, the poem speaks to any person who can dig into their own being to find strength in fighting their own demons.

Still I Rise
by Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.


I found the entire poem so powerful that I wanted to share it, and maybe provide some subtle inspiration as it did for me.
Although the theme of the conference (sponsored by the Elementary Teacher's Federation of Ontario) was "Working Together to Create Healthy Schools and Communities", I'm sure each of the over 400 women who attended would tell you that we came away with so much more than that. Through humour, inspirational and motivational speakers, and elective workshops we learned more than new teaching strategies; we also learned to take a long, hard look at ourselves. Could we laugh at ourselves? Could we look around and not judge the person next to us for not finding the humour in the same jokes that I might? Could we make the necessary shifts in our lives to achieve what we are capable of, and what will make us happy? Could we learn to look after ourselves so that we aren't always at the bottom of our priority list? Could we learn to come together to face the burdens of our profession, but also to unload the weight of our own minds?

There were moments during those two days that I was laughing til my sides hurt...when our first motivational speaker "Linda Edgecombe" shared her story about her lack of knowledge of what "going commando" meant. Apparently she thought that it was the name of the cologne worn by the very attractive man sitting next to her on a four hour flight. He told her he was going commando when she asked him what he had on. Thinking that she might like to buy some of this unheard of cologne for her husband, she leaned over and told him that she just had to get her some of that! Her point...we all have stories that are too real to be made up. To be out their living life means we have new stories to tell. So get out there and start creating new stories.

There were also moments that the tissues were being pulled out of handbags, and tears filled almost every eye...when Sally Armstrong shared her horrific stories about the women of the Congo who had been severely sexually assaulted but still had the courage to band together to create change in their world. Or when the documentary film "The Red Jacket" was shown telling the story of the young man in British Columbia who had been so badly beaten that he was left permanently brain damaged, unable to care for himself and needing 24 hour care, all because he was wearing the colour red in a neighbourhood whose gang colours were blue.

Even more than the camraderie, the sharing of stories and emotions, the luxury of being pampered at The Royal York, and the full schedule of events, this conference once again provided me with another moment in my life to allow my own shift. We all have situations in our lives that seem beyond our control, allowing that feeling of hopelessness to seep back in. But, we also have it in ourselves to create the change, to continue to rise, to live a fulfilled life. If I'm not happy, then it's up to me to start making the changes to be happy. As the title of Linda Edgecombe's book so perfectly stated Shift...or Get Off the Pot.

Something to Think About

"First, you must find me.
Then, you must follow me.
Choosing, you will test me.
Knowing, you will challenge me.
At last, you must deserve me."

I came across this passage while randomly searching through blogs this morning. It is a quote taken from Charlotte Kandel's book The Scarlett Stockings. In the book, the riddle refers to the stockings. When I first read it, however, I thought of how many of our life experiences could reflect this quote. The choices of our lives mingled with the paths of our destiny.

I Know I'm Whining

Dr. Oz recommends placing a clove of garlic in the ear, and holding it in place with a bandaid (as I am writing this post, both garlic and bandaid are pressed firmly against my left ear). A colleague suggested cold compresses, another hot, yet another said to alternate between the two. One helpful friend proposed a mixture of peroxide and warm water. After prescribing my second round of a more potent antibiotic, my doctor mentionned drops of mineral oil for my ear, and a Neti Pot for my nose. I blindly (or deafly) put my trust in these two suggestions despite the fact that the mineral oil that I purchased at the pharmacy made no reference to ears for recommended usage, but insisted that it was beneficial as a laxative. As for the Neti Pot, anything that looks like a teapot and pours like a teapot, should not be inserted into any body parts. What goes in must come out as I tipped my head, poured the warm salt water solution in one nostril, felt the uncomfortable path that the solution was making through my nasal passages, watched it drip with indignity out the other nostril, while at the same time listening to the demanding instructions of my oldest daughter "Do it again, mom, you have to do it twice in each nostril for it to work...and keep your mouth closed!" She was right about the mouth; funny how all those cavities are connected.

After two weeks, a diagnosis of both an ear infection and sinus infection, time off work, and thousands of "pardon me", "what did you say", "could you repeat that", I am open to all suggestions...within reason, cost, and dignity. Truthfully, the dignity probably isn't a factor at this point as I sit here with a garlic clove sticking out of my ear; or as I remember walking around Home Depot last weekend with some form of mucus draining out my ear and a kleenex stuffed as indiscreetly as possible inside, all while trying to listen intently to the helpful salesman explain how effectively this model of toilet flushes everything away! Honestly, where else could it possibly go?

As with each sickness or injury that I find myself inflicted with, when I start to whine or get frustrated, I once again remind myself of the appreciation of being healthy, and how fortunate I am to be able to drive myself to my doctor, get a prescription, and expect to get better. Although I'm thinking that maybe all I had to do was drive to the grocery story and buy some garlic!

I Thought Tweetie was a Bird that Sylvester Ate

Feeling too comfortable usually indicates that change is on the horizon. It wasn't that I was feeling too comfortable with my Chocolate of Women blog, but rather, I thought that I should make an attempt to stay as technologically current as my "untechnological" mind would allow. Thus, the addition of two new gadgets (as they are called in blog land) to my website. Reading this right now, you will have already seen that the first addition is Twitter. I guess my iphone, msn, skype, Facebook, my dinosaur phone land line, my blog, and various email accounts didn't make me quite as accessible to the people in my life as I thought. I felt the computer age peer pressure of needing the next best thing (although true computer geeks would say that Twitter is not only NOT the next best thing, but is already sliding quickly down the slope of antiquity...ahhh, to actually be talking big word computer language and really know what I'm saying). After scanning through various blogs, I caved, and added "Follow me on Twitter". Now I get to twitter, tweet, retweet, blog, IM, text, and talk, all while lmao.

The next new gadget is a little less conspicuous, requires very little compgeek (my own word) training, and is much more enjoyable. "My Blog List" has been added to the sidebar with a link to blogs that I am following. Plural "blogs" is as yet just a singular "blog", but, this list will continue to grow. "Musings from afar" is about a high school teacher in rural Alaska...enjoy, and appreciate!

People

The horrific images from Haiti since the devastating earthquake last week have affected people from around the globe. The cry for help went out, and people responded. Once again, some higher power (whether you believe in God, or destiny, or an unseen hand that guides the world's path), has made us stop, take note of what is right in front of us, and be thankful. It allows the goodness of humanity to push to the forefront of world news.

For me personally, the Haiti disaster has done more than make me grateful for the life that I have. It has once again sparked that desire in me to be on the front lines; not necessarily in Haiti, but anywhere that there is a need greater than here. My love of teaching, combined with my thirst for wanting to learn more and do more, have created a dream for me. I want to stand in a classroom, crowded with eager students who are happy just to have a pencil and a notebook. I don't want to be just their teacher; I want to be a student of their world. I want to learn how people in Africa, in Haiti, in India, are unique, but also see how they are very much the same as us. I know that this dream is on hold for the moment, but I also know that not having that dream would mean that it would never become reality.

How can I watch the news and not be affected by the mother clinging to her dead child, the homeless children wandering as though in a post-traumatic haze, the helplessness of a nation as basic needs are unreachable? Story after story of heartbreak permeate the world newscasts as we are overwhelmed with the loss of lives, and the destruction of families. This disaster has once again aligned the priorities in my life, in the order that they should be in. "My people" are at the top of my list, which is where they usually are, but sometimes that list needs to be highlighted, in bold capital letters. I heard a story last night on the Haiti telethon about one brave mother whose desperation to save her child went beyond the strength of human endurance. When the earthquake hit, her home collapsed, and although she was able to free herself from the debris, her child was buried. For 50 hours she listened to the cries and screams of her scared, hurt child. For 50 hours she dug with her bare hands as she listened to the cries weaken. She never gave up, even when help arrived, she continued. Her child was rescued; she had her person back in her life. Stories such as these make the people in my own life that much more loved and treasured by me. Even though there are days that my children seem to forget that I am actually the person in charge, there are also days that they hug me when they need a shoulder to cry on; there are days that we laugh at meal time until Lisa is choking milk out of her nose. Even though there are days that my parents seem to want to know every minuscule detail of my life until I want to go into hiding from them, there are also days that I am the one who needs the shoulder to cry on, and mom's is always available to me. Even though there are days that the distance between me and my "copain" seems like half a world away, the time that we are together is filled with laughing, teasing, the ordinary and mundane, mixed with that feeling of the perfect fit.

Hold your people close. Tell them that you love them. And remember, they are at the top of your priority list.

The Compassion of a Child

She quietly walked up to my desk, tilted her head down slightly, and held out a small plastic bag tied in a knot. In her shy, almost inaudible voice, she said "This is for the people in Haiti." She looked up at me with her innocent brown eyes, barely smiling, but filled with the compassion of a child. The bag boasted a toonie, some quarters, mixed with a few nickels, dimes, and pennies, all emptied from her piggy bank; a piggy bank that I knew would not be refilled anytime soon. I wanted to shout her story of selflessness from the rooftops, but at the same time, I knew that her act was not done for recognition, but solely for the purpose of giving.

With the unexpected, but also rewarding re-entry into full-time teaching, it has been so easy for me over the past two weeks, to get caught up in the pressure of what to teach, how to teach, planning, assessment. The feeling of being overwhelmed would hit me at some point each day. On Tuesday morning, with yet more directives being issued by the board, and more meetings debating rubrics and expectations, the feeling of "just let me teach" was screaming in my head. Then I walked back into my classroom, welcomed loudly by my exuberant brood, and was met with an overflowing shoebox of coins and bills from just one day of our Haiti fundraising drive. The excitement on my students' faces, and their motivation to do more, was well worth all of the politics of teaching. I was amazed with their compassion, as well as their sense of social responsibility.

For each piggy bank that was emptied, for each allowance that was donated, for each small act, this is my way of shouting my amazement and my gratitude from the rooftop.