Sunday Scribblings #27 – I carry

I am the means by which something passes, or is inspired to flow or move, from one place to another. Sherpa. A term of endearment that my husband uses. “Why won’t you let me carry something for you?”, he often asks. I am alive, protected and safe. But only if I am carrying something. Usually…

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To serve and protect

I’m still trying to figure out just what I witnessed this morning. Cycling home from a doctor’s appointment up Parliament Street, I got cut off by a police officer making a U turn. After narrowly missing me, he pulled over, got out of his car (which was still idling), and walked over to a panhandler…

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Sunday Scribblings #26 – Left and Right

  Throw salt over your left shoulder and you’ll hit the devil. Don’t expect it to work if you use your right shoulder – the devil stands to your left. Southpaw. I am right because I’m left. Left handed people are the only ones in their right minds. If I have a left hemisphere stroke,…

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a complicated kindness by Miriam Toews

I love recording excerpts from books. They give me ideas and strength and something concrete to relate to. It used to be that I’d copy things out in my journal or save them as word files. I’m ready to start sharing them in blog-land now. So here’s one from the book I’m currently reading. The…

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Sunday Scribblings #25 – Money

  “Knowledge is like money: the more (s)he gets, the more (s)he craves.” Henry Wheeler Shaw Dough Moola Bacon Dinero Dollars Bread Coin. I hate thinking about it. I wonder why I have such anxiety when it comes to cash. The discomfort runs so deep that I take a flight or fight approach to money.…

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His Holiness the XIV Dalai Lama – Roger’s Centre, Toronto, October 31

Yesterday afternoon I had the most honourable priveledge of being surrounded by beautiful Tibetan women wearing their best Chupas and aprons. Miniature tibetan flags were abundant and age-old mudras (sacred hand gestures used to express wisdom) reminded me of the sacred traditions held in the space. I sat, in my unassigned VIP lounge booth (!),…

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Sunday Scribblings #24 – Hospitals

Yo ho ho. Hospitals make me laugh. Not a joyful laugh, but a cynical “can-you-believe-the-gall” laugh. From the inside there’s lots to see. Layered with waste. Much talk with little action. Lots of ego and minimal consciousness about the incompetence. (If you at least know you’re incompetent, that’s a step in the right direction!). The…

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Sunday Scribblings #22 – First, Worst and Dream Jobs

First Job: Starways flyer delivery girl, 1985, 12 years old. Yup, you know those annoying circulars that practically no one reads and everyone throws away (that is, if they don’t get blown away or rained on first)? That junk mail that drives some of us batty? That’s what I delivered. I earned 1/4 of a…

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Sunday Scribblings #21 – Sorry

“Oh, sorry” Not my fault, but still, “I’m sorry” Weakness of character, failure, act of wrongdoing. Rushing through the kitchen, I brush past the corner of the fridge, “Sorry”, then a laugh. Talking to my mom, I tell her I’m a little down. “I’m sorry honey”. That’s taking responsibility to the extreme. Unreasonable. Over-used, watered…

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