Is It Really About A Camel and A Piece of Straw?

Is It Really About A Camel and A Piece of Straw?

He walk’s back and forth waiting, waiting to hear the one thing, the one more thing that will be that moment that validates his need to pounce and begin the attack. It’s not the one thing that is the source of the attack, it is what’s been brewing inside for days, months, perhaps even years. And so it is for the camel. It’s not that one extra piece of straw that breaks its back. It’s the heavy loads of straw day after day that the camel is forced to carry. Then one day, one extra piece of straw is added and the camel, turns its head towards its owner and through his eyes says, “Really? Well, screw you, I’m done!” The camel folds his knees under him and collapses to the ground. Long before we ever reach that moment of graceless lashing out, at an unsuspecting soul, the innocent bystander or even the guilty party; our inner self has alerted us to an imbalance. The Divine Voice that whispers, “Yoo-hoo, yes you. You’ve outgrown this friendship. This job; you know it’s not a good fit for you. Your relationship; you’ve been unhappy for how long now? That shirt, I know you’re not blind. Can you not see that the buttons are ready to pop? So either put the donut back in the box and start walking or buy a bigger size.” Everything from having to experience sugar withdrawal to perhaps investing in a lawyer to get through the Big “D” (divorce), to having to find a new BFF and therefore, have no one to go to the movies with...
Doesn’t Anybody Love Me?

Doesn’t Anybody Love Me?

There are times when I feel a Sarah Jessica Parker character and I are kindred spirits. Don’t be alarmed, I’m not talking Carrie Bradshaw from Sex in The City, we all know that would be an elaborate fantasy. This is more Meredith Morton from the 2005 film, The Family Stone. It’s Christmas and she arrives at her boyfriends family home, the Stones, where she is to meet everyone for the first time. She can do nothing right and everything just goes from bad to worse. No one likes her, they’ve decided this before they’ve even met her. They set her up to fail as they are all in need of a good laugh. Criticism abounds, so they can feel better about themselves. At one point she is covered in an uncooked egg dish she had planned to make for Christmas morn, she crashes a car and in front of everyone finds out her boyfriend doesn’t want to marry her. Then on top of everything, she is feeling complete shame for having got drunk and woken up in her boyfriends brothers bed, to be told that he didn’t take advantage of her and had slept on the floor. More rejection! She throws her hands in the air and in a tearful voice, cries out, “Doesn’t Anybody Love Me!?” There you have it. Sarah Jessica and I have bonded. And then it’s Christmas eve morn and there is a knock at my door. I’m still in my robe and slippers, I’m not sure if I’d even brushed me teeth. “Dear Lord, who could this be?” It’s my dear friend, Tonya. She’s...
A Good Growl Says It All

A Good Growl Says It All

  Mae is now four, but her ability to growl started a year before at the age of three. When Mae didn’t feel in the mood for conversation rather than ignore you, turn away or simply look at her feet she took to responding with a sound that came from deep inside of her and vibrated from her throat, “Grrrrr!” Now I’m not big on coaxing and I don’t believe in bribing, so I was content to be at peace with the Growl. What is it we tend to say to the quirks of children? “They’ll grow out of it.” However, Mae has continued to grow and her growl has remained to grow with her. As I said, coaxing and bribing I don’t do. Instead I felt there was merit in the Growl so when Mae answered my questions with a “Grrrrr” I replied with a “Grrrr.” Back and forth we go, rather like duelling banjos. No strings to strum, just vocal cords        to orchestrate. We’d compete in loudness and the ability to create different levels of sounds from inside us. Back and forth, back and forth until one of us caves and collapses into giggles. Mae then abandons the growl and talks. We discuss what she’d like to amuse herself with now and go about our time together. Mae’s Growl has advanced to somewhat of a dialogue. It’s not just to express that she isn’t interested in conversing. It’s also to vent when she’s not happy, to release frustration, to get your attention, to announce intense dissatisfaction. I too have to admit I’ve taken the...
Kick The Can and Not The Cat

Kick The Can and Not The Cat

Kicking the Cat is an idiom that dates back to the 19th century. The man is humiliated by his boss. He comes home and yells at his wife. His wife slaps their child and the child kicks the household cat. People have grown, for the most part, to know that to kick a cat is considered cruel and yet being cruel to each other is still in fashion despite all our anti bullying campaigns. Cats have fared far better than humans. People hurt each other and then they justify it. I have a migrane. I’m overtired. I forgot to each lunch. I have a condition. My boss is a prick. It’s been a bad day. These hurting, angry souls lash out at who ever happens to be in their sights, they aim and fire with the sole intention of having someone feel worse than they feel. I worked for a husband and wife who argued freely and often. Mr. Mender usually held the upper hand, which left Mrs. Mender looking for a cat. Often she was so desperate she would stand looking into the office waiting to hear or see something she could strike out at. Once she found what she needed, in she’d come with guns blazing. She’d attack. On days when she was feeling extra less than, whatever object was close at hand would fly through the air in my direction. Now nothing she threw ever made contact. I was able to dodge out of the way, but I also felt either her aim was bad or she didn’t intend on a bull’s eye – she just...
Where Have I Been?

Where Have I Been?

“Sharon, did you change your email. Did you stop writing? Did you delete me from your mailing list? “No, No and No”. I’m here. Right here where I left off or perhaps I’m not. Perhaps I’m somewhere else, other than where I was. I hope during my lapse at writing, while I’ve been viewing life, living life and jotting down my observations, I’ve been becoming more of who I am. I consider myself to be open minded. I embrace new ideas. I entertain different perspectives. I try new things. I feel I say yes to Life more than I say no. And yet, I became aware of how small my world was. Observing my day to day reality I noticed that it was primarily one colour, culture and nationality. I wondered if I didn’t move out and into other worlds would I fall into the realm of feeling I knew other’s without even meeting them? Would I simply listen to the news, absorb headlines and adopt the opinions of others forming a truth that may not be in any way accurate? I decided to step out of my tiny circle and take a walk around in some different realities. My friend Tonya and I began a venture we coined “Eat, Pray, Love” after Elizabeth Gilbert’s memoir. We began visiting different places of faith and culture and dining on the complimenting cuisine. It’s quite amazing when you shake another’s hand, engage in conversation to learn who another is, you can find yourself hearing the words in your brain, “I didn’t know. I thought it was…” over and over. It’s humbling...

Let It Be Different This Time

Monday July 4th – surgery for my second knee replacement. I’d been preparing myself. Everything was in order. Home cleaned, check. Groceries bought, check. All the lovely rental aides of walker, shower bench and toilet seat, check. Children to visit, ride home, check. Feeling calm and confident, secure and grounded. No check. Every time I asked myself to be in a good place and relax I felt myself spiral into fear and a tear would well up in my eye threatening to spill out and run down my cheek. Two years ago I had my right knee replaced. My memory of walking into the surgery room was not positive. Inside my head I heard, “You’re alone” and I started to cry. The spinal was painful and I immediately became anxious and felt I was being strangled, before it all went dark. Meditating, affirming, visualizing could not get me to a place where I felt calm. I immediately bounced into what had happened before and the fear and tears took over. I was scared. My right knee was still healing, even after two years. I hadn’t pushed it to strengthen the way that it needed due to my left knee being so weak. I was scared that I’d now have two legs that didn’t feel good. Even though I kept hearing, “This will all take you forward.” I wasn’t supporting my inner wisdom. I was instead fuelling my fear of going through this all again. Sunday, the day before, the day, my friend Tonya sends me a text, “I’m going to pop by this afternoon, to see you before the...