My day December 21, 2011

So I awoke and drank Camomile Tea and ate my porridge. I met my friends on the bus and headed for the hill. I decided to invest in a helmet, everyone else was doing it so I followed along. We started on our usual hill and then, with a little help from a Golden Couple, we skied, well, nearly everywhere. We aimed for beginners’ hills, blue hills, and it was fantastic being on different surfaces, a new challenge, a new view, and, oh boy what a view. There are no words for the hills at Sunshine Village, the white valleys, the trees wading in snow.

We were back at the chair lift before lunch when I realised, this is a green run. We did a green run?? We did a green run!  Sometimes ignorance is bliss. There were times I looked down the stretch of snow below me and wondered what the hell I was doing here. I parked the fear in the deep pockets of my superb ski jacket and went for it. I fell a few times, once I went over my head, to land on my head: It was a good day to start wearing one. The pain was bad enough with the insulation around it. I watched my friend do a flip too, she shredded so much snow with her that I have no idea how she fell, I only saw a cloud of white and then her lying, still. There was a moment of panic as I rushed towards her, which for me on skis, is quite slow. Eventually the white helmeted head lifted of the snow. From now on she knows, after a tumble, do not take a moment to lie still in the snow. By all means, stay down and enjoy the view but please, shout or swear or lift something, even if its one finger.

When I came home, I was connected to the internet again. It has been 2 days but it was a tough 2 days with Christmas away from my family looming at the weekend. I’ve showered, snacked on coffee, peanut butter and crackers, and now I head to yoga and then some Christmas shopping.

I look at my day, a normal day and think, I love my life.

Loaves and fishes November 21, 2011

I remember a priest who served in our parish at home a few years back reading the gospel of the loaves and the fishes. Miracles are often hard to believe, and in the 21st century, we often wonder why they are so far and few between.

During his sermon, he wondered aloud a different scenario. The Bible is sketchy on the exact details of the day and our priest took a different angle than I had heard in 20 years of this event.

Jesus asked if people had food, so that they could eat after coming to listen and see him one day. People within their own groups and families were worried. There was a very large crowd. “I have some” they whispered quietly to each other, “but in this large crowd, we may have to share it and then we’d get nothing”. Or, “there is a lot of hungry people here, there could be a fight over the little food we have and then we’d have nothing but bruises”. One little boy came forward; I often wonder did his Mother push him, afraid to walk up to the front of the crowd herself. The boy carried his 5 loaves and 2 fish. He, or maybe he representing his family, was willing to share. They did not have much, but this man in front of them often talked about feeding the needy and working together in love, and they trusted Him. Someone at the front saw the little boy’s offering, and took their family’s rations and passed it to the apostles. “If a little boy can share, then so too will I”. Another and another saw that people were trusting Jesus and the apostles with their food. “I will share too” and so they passed forward their food, and so it continued through the crowd. I like to think the great diversity of food offered up gave people a selection to choose from perhaps, a little butter for the bread, maybe some vegetables, a little water or ale to wash it down with. At the end, there was food left over. “Look”, they said to themselves, “we had enough food between us to start with, we had no need to worry and hoard it”.

Our priest wondered if the miracle in the story was sharing, that people trusted to put forward their own much needed resources, that it would be distributed evenly and fairly and that there would be enough to go around. He ended by saying, “and wouldn’t that be a greater kind of miracle”.

I loved his take on it. It does not leave the miracles to God, but gives to each individual the power to help make them happen. God is like a teacher or a manager or a parent, He can do it Himself but he wants to help you to figure it out so that you can learn and do better yourself. The message showed that love, trust and sharing make a massive difference in a world where so many go without. Without food, shelter, love, safety, justice, equality, education.

To me, the importance was to offer to everyone what I have and in doing so, trusting that, while I may do with less, nobody would go without. It would also mean that when I am in need, I too will be looked after and to trust in that. I have often heard that there is enough food to feed the world many times over. Some countries rack up debt that the interest alone is keeping them hungry. I left a country that is getting help from the European Central Bank, the International Monetary Fund and the European Commission to get back on its feet. Ireland is in conflict over whether it wants their help or needs their help, or whether they asked for the help in the first place.

I can’t speak for countries or powerful institutions. I can only choose how to live myself. I wonder if I too can trust that by sharing what I have today, I will live in a better world tomorrow. By giving of my talents, my possessions, other people will give of theirs and so we will all do better, for each other. As I travel, with less material things to my name, it is amazing to see how easily people share, barter and pass on things, from hemming t-shirts to giving goggles and gloves.  A traveller needs to travel lightly and the accumulation of material goods does not gel well with that. We are the better for it.

I’m not sure why I am reflecting today on a sermon from years ago. I wonder do pastors and priests and wise people we overhear on the bus realise how far their words can travel. I guess they too are sharing of their talent, the best of themselves.

 

Libraries: the quiet refuge October 15, 2011

I walked out of there into the cold, dark night, excited and elated.

Earlier that day, I saw a poster in the library about an upcoming workshop, “Canadian Writers You May Not Have Heard Of“. Given my lack of knowledge on any Canadian writers, I thought this would be perfect. I popped along at five to seven, and the room was filling fast.

Over the next 90 minutes, a crowded but comfortable room reviewed books by Canadian authors, some set here, some set elsewhere. They looked at the celebrated, the not so celebrated and the celebrated-who-did-not-deserve-it. The group comprised mostly women, a few men, from a mixture of ages and accents, sometimes agreeing with each other, sometimes disagreeing. The facilitator guided us through the workshop with passion, inclusiveness and humour. I wondered how I could learn to do that job.

I love books. I love being taken to another time or place, another person’s world. I love absorbing myself in a land built with words. I love recommending a book that is then loved. I encourage children to read at any chance I get. Whether in book form or e-reader form, and most recently, audio, I love them.

Being part of a group that oozes love for the written word took my passion and multiplied it by 100. I fed off their enthusiasm, their energy, and took notes on recommendations. There were a few books handed around, and from flicking through to a random page and sampling the prose, I could make my mind up what was for me or not. I also took note of those not my usual style but worth a try. That’s the great thing about such meetings: you push yourself out of your usual shelf.

How do books get known if they don’t have a big marketing ploy behind them? The facilitator pointed to the library as key in this area, ensuring little known writers also get to the readers.

The statement reminded me of my favourite book, Shadow Of The Wind, and the Cemetery of Forgotten Books which ensures that any book written is kept safe. To me, this is the essence of the Library, keeping books circulating. Regardless of your income, status, interests, you have access to books, at no cost. What wealth!

I joined the library not long after arriving here. It opened up to me a vast array of books , not to mention the newspapers, magazines and the DVD collection. I felt intimidated when informed that if I do not return my books, and fail to respond to the multitude of warnings, the library will hand my debt over to a Debt Collection Agency. However, on behalf of the books, I applauded the approach.

Before leaving Ireland, I dropped hundreds of my books at the second-hand store. Only my absolute favourites could be stored at my parents’ house. It was better than recycling, or, worse, landfill, but the amount of waste struck me. The library helps me be a little more ethical in my shopping, pioneering “Re-use, Re-use, Re-use”.

I had gone to the library that day to return books. 2 were late, and I asked about the fine. “We don’t charge you”, she explained, “we have a guilt jar”, pointing to the jam jar on the counter with $2 and other coins. Guilt prompted me to add another tooney (A Canadian dollor has a picture of a loon bird on it thus known as a loony; a $2 then becomes a tooney). An excessive fine, I thought, but I gave graciously because I didn’t have to. Sitting reading at a window table, the quiet calm relaxed me. People came and used the computer suite, sat and read the magazines and wandered around the shelves.

The library is the refuge for books that could slip from memory or fail to make it big in publishing. It is a refuge for second-hand books, saving them from landfill. It is the refuge for the reader, offering a quiet oasis of calm, whether your stay in town is short or long.

Thanksgiving October 10, 2011

I am waking up this morning, stuffed from turkey, sweet potato stuffing (or is it yam stuffing here?) and pumpkin pie. I never tasted pumpkin pie before. I now want to eat a whole pie by myself. It was delicious. It was smooth and sweet and spicy and filling. I have found a recipe that I will bring back to Ireland. It beat Beavertail and Poutine hands down.

In honour of this day, I am going to list all that I am thankful for today:

• Pumpkin pie. Well done.
• The kindness of my mostly Australian house-mates who put together the feast.
• Briony and Allyson, fellow working-late colleagues who joined me at midnight around the dinner table
• My health. Mind, body and spirit.
• Today off. I. Am. Tired.
• My good friend, Mrs. King, who e-mailed me yesterday several times and moved me from feeling blah to feeling Blessed.
• The trees outside that are now pale yellows and golds: Canadian Fall at its best.
• The Rocky Mountains.
• The encouragement and inspiration from those who helped get me here.
• Peanut butter.
• Ciarán for telling me to run and to write.
• Coffee Pots. Even when I didn’t have a kitchen sink, the Canadians still gave me a coffee pot.
• My family who always keep in touch.
• The internet and its devices that help us keep that touch.
• Annie, my second cousin in Toronto, who keeps checking in on me.
• Belief.
• Siobhan, for singing with passion.
• Biro Holding and Michelle for the big bed and the desk in this bedroom. It really is the little things.
• My mother, for teaching me to value, care and treasure my dolls. I am only understanding the lesson now.
• Airplanes.
• Books.

What are you thankful for today?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Abundance October 9, 2011

When I arrived in Toronto on August 12th 2011, I had one bag (packed tightly) and a satchel filled with my prized possessions (laptop, diary, kindle, ipod, phone, passport, purse,  Rosary Beads from a best friend’s husband). I had everything I needed. A hairdryer and straighteners I would have loved, but, though I hear my best friend screaming in horror, I did not need. Touring around the CN Tower, Casa Loma, and particularly the Eaton Centre, I saw some beautiful things- souvenirs, books, clothes, and I walked on. At this stage it was easy. I had to carry all my worldly goods, and the sheer weight of my bag was a powerful disincentive. In Montreal, I visited the Biodome. I was texting and walked into a column. It was a plastic container filled with mobile phones. It asked on the back whether we needed to constantly update and so through away our old models? Trainers, children’s toys, fur and STUFF filled other plastic containers and the bottom line was that our consumption is getting out of hand. On the wall were statements, in French and English naturally, “Do I need this?” “I recycle” “I need new yoga pants”. It was a small room, and yet the message was powerful. I felt guilty. I thought on the boxes and boxes of clothes, shoes, handbags, books, sheets, towels, pillows, duvets I brought to the Charity Store before leaving, let alone the sheer volume that was binned. I immediately e-mailed an eco-loving friend and promised to think more about consumption.

Arriving in Bannf, I moved into a basement bedsit. It was small, dark but I liked it. After living in hostel dorms, I had my space. I started yoga. At the end of each lesson, the instructor places a card at the end of each mat: “thought for the day” I suppose. I got Abundance. I thanked God for all that I had. The next day, I got Abundance again. I thought on my healthy family, my opportunities in life, and I thanked God. The next practice, Abundance. Yes, God, I have been given a lot, and I appreciate, and am told often, how lucky I am to take this time to travel in Canada.

I joined the library free books without having to carry them with me or abandon them  (I had to do this at an airport in Spain once, I cannot recall the book, but it broke my heart). I chose a new book from a writer I enjoyed, Geneen Roth. She asked a question: Have I enough? I thought about it. I listed my family, my friends, my health, my ability to run when I want, a roof over my head and a job that puts food in my tummy. I added the mountains and river and trails around here because they definitely are a gift. Sure, I once lived in a whole house just for me, but I am genuinely happy to be here now, in this bedsit. I once had a job that drove and stretched my passion and skills,  but I am deeply grateful for a dependable job with a day’s pay for a day’s work.

I borrowed a book from the yoga studio. The writer is introduced as a master who shares his wisdom and compassion in abundance.

The Higher Power (I call him God, but you can call him, her or per anything you want) was shouting silently at me. I do not have enough. I have plenty. I have a lump of happiness in my gut. I walk around looking at the snow peaked mountains or the low-lying clouds and enjoy the show. I meet people from all over the world in the store and they share their stories generously. I wake up and practice yoga facing a mountain. One day I couldn’t see the mountain because of the cloud, but it was ok, I knew it was still there. There are different trails and different hikes. I walk past deer. My world is between these mountains right now, and all I need is within walking distance. Thanks to technology, I have spoken to each member of my family in the past 2 weeks (this is more than when I lived 20 miles from them). Abundance? I am living it. I have enough and loads left over. I know this, but I didn’t get it. Now every ounce of my body knows it too. My mind has shifted from seeing over-consumption as a negative to instead appreciating how rich I am when I appreciate and value that which is in my hands.

I promise I have not gone all wishy-washy, and one day I will again own straighteners. We know to appreciate nature, love, kindness and we need gentle, or not so gentle, reminders to stop and see and feel the beauty. I think however, I have forgotten to appreciate money, and the work that brings it to us. When we were little, our Mother loved dolls. She would help us wash our dolls, brush their hair, wash their clothes and get them looking great. We fed them, slept with them and if our doll fell, she would pick it up, hug it and comfort it. We valued our dolls, and my older sister and I got a new doll every Christmas. On Christmas Eve, our dolls sat out, gleaming, to show Santa Claus we really looked after the toys he gave us. Somewhere along the line, I lost that value. I bought and bought but left clothes lying on my bedroom floor, DVDs out of boxes, my car’s dent unrepaired. I left my Kindle on an armchair with my one year old niece. I stopped valuing items that cost me, or someone, money. My new thinking on Abundance is about also valuing the things I have bought, not feeling guilty or mindlessly spending, but enjoying the things my money buys. This has renewed my wish to be an ethical shopper: not having my hard-earned cash trap people in unjust work practices or polluted communities.

I am richer than I ever was, not because of where I am, but because I know it.