• Patient Practice

    • November 9, 2009 6:38 am

    My mother is a great writer. Her novel, written in the eighties about her life in the Yukon, makes me weep every time I read it. For years she wrote a personal column for both the Toronto Star and the Montreal Gazette and she had many fans.

    Every so often I’ll get a long email from her about the Great Dane she and my father are raising. One of my sisters suggested she start a “dog blog”.

    Yesterday I helped my mother set up a free blog account, much like this one. It was challenging. Her computer is a dinosaur and my parents live in the sticks outside Chicago, which may or may not have something to do with their Internet connection being as slow as molasses.

    I sat patiently on the phone with her as we went through the procedure, step by step. There were lots of hiccups and she almost gave up a few times but we persevered and finally achieved success.

    The miracle of this little story is that I was able to stay calm throughout the process and be kind and helpful. Believe me, when I use the word miracle I am not being grandiose.

    I used to be the kind of person who would lose my temper in an instant. Lose it.

    Example: I’m moving house. I’m trying to get a wicker chair through a door. It’s too big. Instead of turning the chair on its side and taking the time to manoeuvre it slowly, which would have surely worked, I pull and I wrench the thing so hard that I shred the edges and, once through the door, whip it across the yard.

    That was years ago but a pretty standard illustration of my life-long inability to act in a patient manner.

    I haven’t just willed my way into becoming a patient person. I’ve done a heck of a lot of inner work and I have had a great deal of help. Therapy, support groups, spiritual direction. I’m not perfect and I fall short all the time but yesterday I spent an hour on the phone, with my own mother, helping her start a blog and I did so cheerfully and with lots of love in my heart.

    Hallelujah, brothers and sisters.

    Inspiring Message of the Day: Change is possible. We do not have to remain bound to who we think we are. We can let go of old behaviours and practice new ones.

    BTW, become a follower of http://doggedblogchicago.blogspot.com

    An Octopus’s Garden

    • November 7, 2009 8:46 am

    I’ve never gone deep sea diving. I have a family member who is a diver and her stories from the world below have made me long to try it someday. I have gone snorkeling, which is supposedly a lesser experience but I thought it was fantastic nonetheless.

    There is a large flat screen TV in the doctor’s office where I go for check-ups and it always plays the same movie, an IMAX feature about underwater life called Deep Sea. As I waited for some test results yesterday I watched some of the film and, as always, was absolutely mesmerized by what I saw. There are creatures living on the ocean floor that will positively blow your mind.

    Here are some snapshots:

    Something shaped like a human heart and resembling a woman’s dress made of ornate red feathers moved through the water by continually bending itself in half, from front to back.

    A creature that looked like a cross between and octopus and a starfish crept along the sea bed sucking up its food like a vacuum. It would occasionally bump into little yellow clams that would then frantically swim away by opening and closing their “mouths”. At one point the octopus-starfish lifted one of its “arms” to reveal thousands of little legs underneath, which propelled it forward.

    A shrimp-like creature with an expressive face that made it look almost human. At one point it reared up on its tail and roared, its jaw a sudden, gaping trap, its multiple arms splaying open, its colours changing from matte to florescent. This thing went from quirky-looking crustacean to menacing disco-predator in a blink.

    There was no sound coming from the TV so I watched all of this and more in silence, the underwater camera moving slowly and gracefully through this magical world. By the time I was called in by the doctor I was in a kind of meditative state, full of wonder and awe.

    At one point during the film, the amazing fact that all of this was taking place underwater hit me anew. What is a hostile environment for us is a natural environment for these sea animals. Without a breathing apparatus, we die underwater. Likewise, the air we breathe would kill them.

    Yes, this is totally obvious. Big deal. We know this. But, no. Isn’t it something? Is this not an astonishing truth? Their air is liquid!

    Maybe you had to be there…

    Inspiring Message of the Day: Nature can provide the deepest inspiration. When I encounter yet another aspect of Nature’s portfolio I am reminded that I am a part of the whole, not the whole part.

    Compassion in Action

    • November 6, 2009 8:34 am

    There is a young man I will call Richard who lives on the streets of this fair city, who drinks so much he can barely stand up, whose face is swollen and scarred probably beyond recognition to those who may have known him as a boy.

    He is still a boy, really. Though hard living makes him look like he is in his late forties I once heard him say, when he was sober, that he was barely thirty years old.

    I often see Richard with another street kid who begs for change using a pregnant belly to justify the asking. For awhile it looked like Richard and this gal were boyfriend and girlfriend. I have seen her with the belly and without it. Whether it was real I cannot tell you.

    Yesterday I saw Richard at the mall, staggering along the sidewalk, barely upright. I said a little prayer for him and then went into the store. When I came out he was being held in a tight grip by the mall security guard. I was in a vehicle so I could not hear what they were saying but it looked like the guard was hurting Richard.

    I watched to see if this was true, preparing to get out and intervene but then I realized there was something else going on.

    Richard was listening to the security guard in the way that only really drunk people can, head down, eyes closed, total concentration. Richard then swung his free arm around the security guard and hugged him, held him in a tight embrace for many seconds.

    The security guard took the hug. His eyes darted around, possibly worried that someone might see, but he let Richard hold him and did not pull away.

    When they did come apart they stayed close, still gripping and shaking their hands, as if they’d just made a deal. This little dance was repeated three more times. Richard looking like he was being hurt, listening closely to the guard’s whispers, lifting his arm and hugging him tight, the security guard receiving the embrace.

    At one point they even came apart and Richard threw down the gloves he was holding with dramatic flourish and then wrapped both his arms around the security guard in a full-on bear hug. When they came apart, the guard picked up Richard’s gloves for him and handed them back.

    It is at this point that I drove away. They were still shaking hands when I pulled out, standing close again, repeating the scenario. I do not know how long they continued to play out this fascinating drama.

    What was it all about? I’ll never know. But what I saw both disturbed and moved me. The security guard was pulling some kind of a power trip, that much was clear, but he was doing it in such a way that Richard felt the need to thank him for it by hugging him with all the love he had in his drunken heart, which was a whole lot.

    Compassion is defined “sympathetic pity and concern for the suffering and misfortunes of others.”

    I’m not exactly sure what I witnessed at the mall yesterday but I did see a kind of compassion in that security guard’s actions. It was perhaps not perfect but Richard was able to receive it and though he may not even remember what happened, it touched him deeply in the moment.

    Inspiring Message of the Day: I have seen compassion in action and it moved me. I will perform an act of compassion today knowing the power it holds.

    Nature Does it Again

    • November 5, 2009 8:23 am

    Last night I walked from the downtown core to a nearby neighbourhood to get to a friend’s house for whom I am house-sitting. In exchange for checking on her house once a day I get the use of her car. It took me about half an hour.

    I do not own a vehicle and though Whitehorse is not a big city it is quite spread-out and getting around without a car is not always easy. Having wheels, especially in winter, is a big help.

    After walking in darkness through the snow, the wind whipping my scarf straight behind me, I arrived at the house to find that my friend had neglected to leave me the key to the car. Or, if she did, she left it in a very good hiding place. I could not find it.

    I didn’t completely lose my sh&%, though I was definitely saying a few swear words as I looked for the key. After searching the house and making a few phone calls, I finally gave up.

    Feeling annoyed at having walked all that way for nothing, I decided to take a taxi back to my place. I’d only had 6 hours of sleep the night before and a full 12 days of travel before that. I felt exhausted. And though I’d enjoyed the walk there, trudging back home through the snow was not an option.

    As I stood in her driveway waiting for the cab, I said a little prayer for acceptance and my irritation subsided. This was not the end of the world! I breathed in the fresh, cool air. Through the black night I could see the mountains in the distance, looming over the city like giant, shadowy ghosts.

    Then I noticed that one of the trees in my friend’s yard had sprouted little mounds of snow. I looked more closely. All its leaves were gone, obviously, but the tree was still full of little bunches of berries. With each snowfall, each berry-clump had accumulated its own miniature pile of snow.

    When regarded as a whole, the tree looked like it was growing great puffs of cotton.

    I smiled. I may even have laughed. It was so silly! This was the cutest tree I’d ever seen.

    Just then, a friend walked by. I smiled at him and he smiled back. When he asked what I was doing I didn’t bemoan my situation or bad-mouth my friend, I simply told him I was waiting for my ride.

    Now, it must be said, for me, that is truly a miracle. Thank you, cotton tree!

    Inspiring Message of the Day: When I’m feeling irritable it sure helps find something to make me laugh. Silly things are a good cure for grumpiness.

    Re-entry Mode

    • November 4, 2009 10:16 am

    I arrived back in Whitehorse at 1 a.m. last night/this morning to -10 C and white, white, white. Now I know how people feel who arrive from Down South having never been here. It’s a shock to the system after +10 temperatures in Toronto and Vancouver.

    I had a 7 a.m. Toastmasters meeting, which I skipped, and awoke after eight to an apartment with no power. No matter. Make a cold breakfast and go back to bed. Power came back on, hot breakfast and still no sign of the cat. Perhaps 2 weeks with a house sitter cured him of his 5 a.m. alarm clock habit.

    I’m officially in re-entry mode, which means for a few days after I return from traveling my energy is low and all I wanna do is nothing. Experience tells me that doing nothing for 3 days is not a cure, it just prolongs the slump.

    What works best is finding a balance between work and rest. Do not do too much but take action and keep moving. Stop and take a break when necessary, nap, maybe watch a movie, but maintain a forward momentum.

    With the right amount of action and inaction, the body’s vital energy will return and I will easily transition back into a regular work schedule.

    It’s taken me a long time to learn this. I used to book chock-a-block meetings immediately upon my return from a trip thinking I had to make up for being gone. Wrong thing to do! Because I was cranky and tired the meeting wound up being a total write-off OR I’d have to go back and apologize to someone for opening my big mouth when I shouldn’t have.

    So I’m going to finish this blog, work for a while on my screenplay, take care of some e-business and get back under the covers where the cat is still asleep. He’s got the right idea. It’s winter out there!

    Inspiring Message of the Day: Everything can wait. I’m at my best when I’m rested.

    Happy Endings

    • November 3, 2009 7:06 am

    I’m staying with a woman who is a filmmaker and it’s great spending time with her because we can talk about films, one of my favourite subjects.

    When my friend asked me about my own film work I told her I’ve started a new draft of the feature film script I’m writing. She wanted to know what it’s about and I gave her my one-sentence pitch:

    A woman chooses independence over romantic love.

    I only recently came to this conclusion myself. I’ve been working on this thing for years and I always thought it was about something else and because I didn’t really know what that was, I was always writing in circles.

    After dinner we watched a movie called Penelope, a little-seen film with Christina Ricci about a young woman who looks like a pig. It’s a wonderful story. We all loved it.

    When the movie was over, my friend said, “You know what that was about, don’t you? A woman who chooses independence over romantic love.”

    “But she still gets the guy,” I said, which was true. After Penelope finds a sense of herself she snags the so-sexy-it-hurts James McAvoy character, who accepts her as she is.

    “So you really can have it all,” said my friend.

    We had decided earlier that day, after talking about the film I’m writing, that you can’t have it all. It’s one or the other.

    But is it? Couldn’t a person be really and truly independent and still be in a relationship?

    Yes, there are certain compromises one has to make in order to make a relationship work but what about inter-dependence, the idea that two people can be independent together?

    The movies rarely show this kind of couple. They show the falling in love, they show the honeymoon stage, they show the fireworks. They don’t show the work it takes to stay together.

    I would like to see more films that show the work aspect of love. The communication, the negotiation, the compromising, the couples therapy. Reality.

    But we don’t go to the movies to watch reality. We go to escape. We have a strong desire to believe in the perfect relationship otherwise there would be no such thing as a Hollywood ending.

    There’s nothing wrong with Hollywood endings. They’re fantasies and fantasies make us feel good.

    But the films that have stayed with me, the ones that have had the greatest impact are the ones with a realistic endings. I think of Five Easy Pieces, an unforgettable film with Jack Nicholson made in 1970. I won’t ruin the ending if you haven’t seen it but it’s a crusher.

    Maybe I will bow to pressure and let the woman and the man stay together in the film I’m writing. After all, Jane Austen gave her characters what she didn’t have and look what happened for her.

    Regardless, there is one thing I do know: if I desire independence I have to work for it, in or out of a relationship.

    Inspiring Message of the Day: The real love I seek is self-love. Without it, no relationship is worth much.

    Live and Let Live

    • November 2, 2009 8:51 am

    Another day, another city. Vancouver, BC. Home of the 2010 Olympics and lately, my second home, because I’ve been here so often in the last few months.

    Last night I went to hear David Sedaris read from his volume of work at the Vancouver Centre for Performing Arts as part of the Vancouver International Writers and Readers Festival, which officially ended last week.

    David Sedaris’ work was first introduced to me by a gal pal with whom I have been friends for over 30 years. She sent me his book Me Talk Pretty One Day and told me I had to read it and that it would make me laugh out loud. I did and it did.

    Even though I really liked the book I also remember finding some of the humour a little too scathing, a little too harsh, for my taste. Borderline offensive, even.

    Then I read one of his stories in The New Yorker Magazine called Kookaburra. It, too, made me laugh out loud and I got choked up by the ending, which was quite touching. So when I saw that he’d be reading in Vancouver I decided I’d like to be there, having officially become a fan.

    And David Sedaris readers, I discovered last night, really are fans. When I arrived at the box office to pick up my ticket there were throngs of people spilling out on to the street. The 1800+ house was jammed to the hilt and the whole place was buzzing like a bee hive. It felt like a rock concert.

    He was great. He’s a little shy but that doesn’t stop him from being a great speaker. I laughed out loud more than a few times and he even read Kookaburra and I got all choked up by the ending again.

    But David Sedaris has a twisted sense of humour. That’s one of the reasons he has fans.

    Much of what he read was really dark. Again, I would call it borderline offensive. The crowd was laughing uproariously but they were also making uncomfortable sounds, groaning and wincing. It’s interesting to hear 1800 people audibly squirm.

    Satire is great, black humour is great but I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel good to laugh at other people’s misfortune. I know we need to, sometimes, that was clear last night. But for me, personally, it doesn’t feel good.

    For example, one of the stories involved a woman in a wheelchair. Black humour is supposedly not discriminatory. It’s a particular genre which gives us permission to laugh. But right now I’m staying with a woman who happens to need a scooter to get around and I just didn’t feel comfortable laughing at the disabled character.

    Other people did. Hard. And you know what? I judged them. “There’s something wrong with these people.” But not me. I’m morally superior because I’m not laughing.

    Here is where I get into trouble.

    Just because I like my humour straight up does not give me the right to judge others who like theirs with a twist. When I’m judging, I’m separating myself from the human race. I’m saying, “I’m different” and the truth is, I’m not. I’m just like everybody else.

    Inspiring Message of the Day: I will continue to work on accepting others as they are. We do not all have to be the same but we are all equal.

    Love Love Love

    • October 31, 2009 5:37 am

    I started this blog little over a month ago for a few reasons:

    One, the cat woke me up at an ungodly hour and, fuming mad, I said a little prayer to help me not to strangle him; Two, I had just seen Julie & Julia, which enlightened me to the idea that a blog could be inspiring; Three, I heard a quiet, little voice from within saying, “Get up and start a blog.”

    I’ve been posting every single day (except Sundays) since then and there are currently 5 followers and an unknown number of other readers.

    The idea behind the blog is simple: Inspire me, inspire you.

    The feeling I get upon waking, in anticipation of writing something, as well how I feel after I post, plus comments I’ve received from readers, confirm the purpose of the blog as being fulfilled.

    So far, so good.

    Though I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t get anxious about posting. “What am I going to write about? What the heck am I supposed to say to inspire people today?”

    This goes against everything I teach when I lead writing workshops: We never have to think of an idea. All we have to do is stay open and let the idea come through us.

    So here is what is coming through:

    I am in Port Hope, Ontario, to visit my maternal grandparents. My grandfather, who is in his mid-nineties, is bed-ridden, which I did not know until I arrived last night. My grandmother is diabetic and chronically depressed. They still live in their own home and have (at the moment) 24-hour care.

    When I go there today I will sit with them and I will be a listener. I will be of support in whatever way I can. I will be present with them in the spirit of unconditional love.

    Believe me, there is a lot that I could say to them. I could tell them what I think about their parenting skills, I could give them advice about spiritual healing, I could suggest many changes they could make in order to feel better.

    But this is not my job. These things are none of my business.

    My only job is to love them. And to be a loving presence in their lives. For one day.

    Not easy. But right.

    And thank you for reading this message, by the way. Knowing you are out there keeps me going.

    Inspiring Message of the Day: It’s easy to tell other people how we think they ought to be living. The more difficult path is to simply be a loving presence. By taking the path of unconditional love I bring peace to the situation and to my own heart.

    Toronto the Good

    • October 30, 2009 5:22 am

    Today is my last day in Toronto. I’m heading an hour east to spend a couple of days in Port Hope, where I lived from 2001 to 2004. My mother’s family is there and a few good friends. I’m looking forward to visiting another ex-home.

    I live in a small town and when I come to the Big City (this could be anywhere, Vancouver, Montreal, Toronto) I like to take advantage of all it has to offer. I have done this in spades this past week. I’m officially overstimulated.

    It’s been a week of listening to endless sirens wailing. I heard a terrible story about a young man who was beaten and then run over and killed. I’ve listened to lots of fearful talk about H1N1 and seen people wearing surgical masks for protection. I saw a someone lying in a sleeping bag on a busy corner and I watched a man having an animated conversation with an imaginary person. His jeans were filthy and did not fit him and his hair was matted and wild.

    I went to the theatre, twice. I saw a couple of brilliant films that made me weep. I took photographs of the sun glinting off the new Crystal at the ROM and the RBC building downtown. I ate vegan in Kensington Market, Thai at a home in the Annex and Japanese at College and Yonge. I connected with friends and family and I people-watched on subways, buses and streetcars.

    This is an amazing city. There is so much going on all the time. It is constantly buzzing with human energy. I’ve had to take a few naps.

    I met a woman yesterday who is really struggling in her life right now. She was full of pain. I am about to go and visit my friend who has breast cancer. My friends’ daughter-in-law and grandson both have swine flu.

    There are 2.48 million stories taking place simultaneously right here in the city. Another 3 million stories in the GTA. There are 25,000 people in Whitehorse, where I live. The contrast is stunning.

    This past week has been more than just a trip I took to go to a wedding and do some business. It has brought me a deeper appreciation of all that I have and all that I am. I’m so alive today. I have perfect health. I am living a life of adventure and freedom. The words “thank-you” just don’t cut it. But thank-you.

    Inspiring Message of the Day: Travel can awaken us to ourselves and to the lives of others. Take a trip and see life anew.

    Perseverance

    • October 29, 2009 5:30 am

    I went back to high school yesterday. I have nightmares about high school. Not that it was such a bad experience but the dreams are most often about me being back there at the age I am now. This is what makes it a nightmare.

    “I thought I graduated,” I’m thinking as the dream unfolds. Usually I’ve got a math exam and I haven’t studied for it at all. Or I’m late for class and I can’t believe I have to be there. “Am I not done with this part of my life??”

    It’s a terrible feeling. I suppose it’s because I’m having to do something over again, something I already completed; I’m having to repeat an experience that was challenging for me.

    But being back in high school yesterday was actually really inspiring.

    The first thing I saw when I walked through the doors was my name painted on the wall in gold letters underneath the words “Ontario Scholars.” A miracle. I had to work really hard to get good marks after failing Gym in Grade 9 and getting asked to leave my first high school because of too many absences.

    After we all stood for O Canada, I spent the next couple of hours with the students in the very same theatre where I’d directed a play for the first time at age 17. I read them one of the plays I’ve written and we talked about acting and writing and where to go after high school is over. Their dreams of being professional actors and dancers and musicians shone from their eager, young faces.

    When the reading was done and it was time for me to leave, I looked outside at the “smoking section” where we used to hang out before, after and between classes and smoke cigarettes and I saw an empty yard. Times have changed.

    On my way back downtown, on the same bus I took every morning all those years ago, I reflected upon my own success as a writer/performer. Twenty years ago our drama teacher had looked around the classroom and said, “Statistics tell us that only two of you are going to make it.”

    In that moment, I’d sworn to myself that I would be one of those two. And 20 years later I am. Not because I’m rich and famous but because I’m a working artist. I’m still at it. I didn’t give up. I persevered. What a feeling!

    Inspiring Message of the Day: “If I had to select one quality, one personal characteristic that I regard as being most highly correlated with success, whatever the field, I would pick the trait of persistence. Determination. The will to endure to the end, to get knocked down seventy times and get up off the floor saying. “Here comes number seventy-one!” Richard M. Devos