Five Years a Writer

Today, I had intended to write about the various slow movements that exist — it began with the slow food movement and has evolved to encompass slow living, slow travel, slow schools, and more.   But I ran out of time.  So, instead, today I’m writing about two wishes and ten minutes. Short and fast. Rather the antithesis of my original intent, but flexibility is important. And relevant.  Wish No. 1 : that my hamstrings were less stiff, more flexible  Wish No. 2 : that my front garden path were less messy and more orderly  Ten minutes, you ask? Here’s the thing.  I wish away the time wanting something that seems way too big a thing to do anything about. My hamstrings stay tight. My garden path remains messy with weeds and self-seeded plants I don't want there.  If only I followed the advice given to me during the first week of my master’s program. The grad student said, quite solemnly: You’ll have a lot of reading to do and you’ll never have the hour or two or three you

Since the age of five, the rhythm of my years has been measured by the start of school or the start of work. For 56 years, I have looked ahead to either a school desk or a work desk as my destination in the morning.  But in just a few weeks, I will be looking ahead to the destination of my choice, as I have decided to leave full-time work this summer. It will be a time of transition, of discovering new rhythms between the hours of 8am and 5pm, and of inventing new patterns within the week. And I am ready for these new learnings.  For new learnings there shall be. Consider time and the use thereof.  I recently re-read Marilyn French’s “classic feminist novel” The Women’s Room (first published in 1977) and was struck by this description of time without routine: “You have to spend so much energy just getting through the day when you have no habits that you don’t have any left for productive labour.” (p. 136) Now, my goal in retirement will not be 5-day-a-week productive labour, but

Except for one year of my undergrad studies when I lived in a furnished studio apartment, I have never lived alone.  All my life, I have lived with my parents and siblings, with room mates, with friends, with partners. But only that one short school year have I lived alone — in charge of every inch of space and every speck of dirt and dust, and with all the responsibility of managing food and meals myself. It was hard work that one short year.  And sometimes I fantasize about doing it again.  Note, this fantasy is not about trading in or doing away with my splendid partner. No. I love Val and enjoy her company immensely.  This is pure fantasy about space ownership — at every level: arrange and rearrange the furniture whenever I please; paint the walls (well, have them painted) any colour I like; stay up later, eat earlier, play the radio louder…and so on.  My fantasy was fuelled by a recent episode of BBC Radio’s The Conversation in which two women, Hannah Carmichael from Englan

The other day, I had enough time to just enjoy it. I got up without a plan and simply made my way through the day. Well. That makes it sound easy. It wasn’t. I kept thinking I should be doing something. And I suppose was. Doing something. It just wasn’t what I usually do, which is being planned and productive.  That day, I allowed myself to just wander through time, enjoying the warm weather, the green growth in my flowerbeds and occasionally having a cup of tea.  It was rather nice. Except it felt so strange to me.  I think I need more practice.  I’ll put it on my list: Wander more. Be aimless more. Enjoy more.  I think that’s a plan. And I can live with that.  ----- A Post a Day in May No. 26 For the past two years, I have posted something to this blog every single day in May. This year, I hope to do it again.  Photo by Henri Lajarrige Lombard on Unsplash  

On Friday, the college president wore a PRIDE pin on his lapel, at an all-employee professional development conference.  And it was astounding —  because in 1969, the Stonewall Riots ignited the gay liberation movement.  because in 1978, Harvey Milk, the first openly gay elected official in California, was shot in his office. because in 1981, the Toronto Bathhouse Raids took place, marking a turning point for Toronto’s gay community.  because in 1986 during Winnipeg’s first PRIDE parade, some people wore paper bags over their heads to protect their identity. because it took until 2005 for same-sex marriage to be legal in Canada — but still isn’t in 166 countries around the world. For all these reasons and for so many more i n 2021 , when the president wears a PRIDE pin and says he's looking forward to helping raise the PRIDE flag on campus, we are seen.  And it matters.  ----- I have written on this topic before:   Becoming seen  and  Showing myself .  June is PRIDE

Today is Monday of the Victoria Day long weekend in Canada, so come along. We’re going on a virtual road trip together, out of the city, along the highway, to the lake. Let’s open up our minds and hearts with a new vista.  We’ll begin by making some yummy food to take along. No road trip is worth its mileage without food at the destination. What will you bring? I’m bringing tuna salad, bread and cheese. And chocolate biscuits for dessert, with coffee (instant, but it’s quite good).   As we drive down the highway, keep your eyes open for my favourite easy-to-spot marsh-nesting bird: the red-winged blackbird. That red on the wing is a dead giveaway, as the bird flies through the air and lands on a reed in the ditch.  When we arrive at the cottage, the view across the lake is like a huge sigh of release for me. For you, too? The big expanse of water in front of us and the big sky above — so far away from the density of the city neighbourhood left far behind.  Let’s spend time now put

Three people, three stories:  A little boy had red marks on his arms from when his mum would put her lit cigarette against his skin to wake him up for school.  A woman had chronic pain and thought about ending her life.  A man in the hospice knew he was dying.  Nonetheless, the little boy was cheerful, the woman learned to live productively despite the pain, and the man planted a tree even though he was going to die. These are three real-life examples cited in research about, and into, hope * . It is a complex concept and a challenging practice, and it is a legitimate field of study, to wit the University of Alberta’s Hope Studies Central. In fact, the U of A in Edmonton is the world leader in hope studies.  Dr. Denise Larsen became a psychologist because she did not understand how the little boy with the cigarette burns, who was in her inner city elementary school class, could possibly be so cheerful, Today, she directs Hope Studies Central at the U of A, which investigates “the rol