Learning and understanding

I was asked, as many people were, what I would like to see in the new year.  Being able to explain it simply was challenging... then I watched Doctor Who, and found the answer.  I’ve paraphrased to be more reflective of my thoughts, and I hope that this makes sense.  I also hope that it touches something in you, and that you find meaning. I would like, in the years ahead, if we can agree on some essential items: Be brave, and face the challenges of life.  Never be cowardly, especially when it’s easier. Understand that the important things in life are the intangibles.  We can always make more money, buy new things and replace what’s worn out.  We can’t buy time with loved ones or do-over events that have passed.   Hatred is always, always foolish and wrong.  Never act out of hate. Anger may be justified, but never make a decision while angry, especially one that affects others. Forgive those who hurt you, so that you can be free of negativity. Remain always curious and creati

It’s almost the end of 2017, and soon the news will be recaps of the past 12 months.  It’s also the time when Christmas newsletters arrive either by post (more rarely now) or online. This year has been another challenging one for me.  It’s not quite an annus horibilis , but it’s certainly not fun. In December last year, my doctor confirmed that the “something” that showed on my scans was a recurrence and spread of my cancer into 2 locations.  This year therefore started with radiation treatments, which were not as hard on me as the last time, but which certainly sapped my strength.  I went home to Trinidad in March and did some recuperating, and returned to work until June, when my doctor advised that I would have to stop working and focus on my health. I fought that ruling, arguing that there were some projects that were dear to me that I wanted to finish... and I lost that battle.  I started chemotherapy in June, and worked with therapists to help me cope with the massive loss

This is not about cancer or illness.  It’s something else that is insidious, though. I was having lunch with some girlfriends recently, and we were pleasantly surprised to find how similar our teen years were despite the fact that we were all from countries thousands of miles apart with no obvious links.  We all grew up having crushes on rock stars; being obsessed with fashion and all specialized in science at school.  We also had moments when we were “different” from the rest of the crowd.  What we shared was the times when we were in groups where size — specifically weight and measurements — were the important things.  Sad, isn’t it, that women around the world are taught that their worth relates to their looks? It seems that women around the world all share moments of insecurity about our bodies.  It’s not made any easier when we’re going through sanctioned hatred.  One thing that is in common for all of us are “women’s” magazines, which feature the same articles in every issue:

In the past few weeks, I’ve been invited to at least 5 sessions on mindfulness.   That may be the universe trying to give me a message! As we’re starting the Advent season, the readings for each day focus on waiting, preparedness and the “end of days” — the end of the world.  It’s interesting, because this links to the concept of mindfulness in a meaningful way also. There are times when I slip into “what if...” and wonder how different life would be had I made other choices.  (Cue George Michael’s “ A Different Corner ” here!). There are people who spend most of their lives living in the past, full of regrets, bitterness, anger and disappointment.  But the past is fixed, closed and dead.  Nothing that we do will make the smallest change to what has happened, and we miss so much of what is happening if we spend our lives constantly reviewing the past. Then there are times when I think, “once I get to ,” that things will change drastically.  They don’t, and it’s disappointing.  I

My mother once showed me one of her wedding presents; a set of smoke coloured glasses in about 6 sizes.  It lived in a cupboard, still wrapped in the original paper.  I asked her why she never used it, and she explained that shortly after she and my father were married, they had some friends over, and one glass was broken.  She decided that she would keep them all safe, and they were relegated to the cupboard.  After her death, when my siblings and I went through her stuff, they were there, unused and unenjoyed. In the last few months, I’ve started clearing out things that I haven’t used in more than a year, and there are, sadly, a lot of them.  I was able to part with some of my books by donating them to a Little Free Library , and comforting myself with the thought that they would be read and appreciated by others.  I’ve arranged an auction to dispose of some of my evening dresses, which I no longer wear, and which I couldn’t bear to put in the donation bins.  Some people will (I h

I was reading a book recently that talked about the “micro-losses” that we experience as we age.  It starts with giving up our infancy to become children and students — how often have we been told “You can’t do that any more, you’re a big girl now!” (Or, more accurately, how often have we said that to a child?). Then moving from school to university to work — we lose small things.  We gain others in exchange — because we are students, we go out and make friends, learn new things, compete, etc.  At work, we develop skills, we deepen friendships, we contribute to the development of our company and society.  We marry, we gain family... we have a period where we get more of what makes us human. We also develop the idea that independence is critical.  We want to remain independent, to be “not a burden”, to be self-reliant.  And this is a comforting lie that we tell ourselves.  When we’re born, we are dependent on others for everything, and often, at the other end of our lives, we are agai

This is the second part of what happened in 2012 when I was first diagnosed. November 3, as I mentioned, was the meeting with the surgeon and then the anniversary lunch for the parents. The day is still surreal, as I got there determined to celebrate, but mentally stuck on “I need surgery. I may have cancer,” With the family, their instant response was to support. To divide tasks to make it easier for everyone. Sunday, there was nothing to do but wait for the world to restart, and therefore I had some limited time to think. I used it to plan what needed to be done and to reach out to friends. The early part of the week was spent in doing tests, arranging for blood donors, talking to the office and the insurance company.  As the 9th approached, there were tests to be done, scans to arrange, leave to be entered. I’m eternally grateful for my friends at the office, especially Sylvie, who made sure that I was looked after and that I just had to sign documents. They took care of the p

This time of year is very difficult for me.  It was this week in 2012 that my life changed irrevocably.  Every year since then, I find myself reliving this week almost hourly.  I think about the circumstances that led up to this week, and the subsequent activities.  Some of them are easier to handle than others. Back in 2012, I had a minor operation in May which should have meant 2 - 3 days off work.  Instead, I was off for over a week, and then had a persistent infection that had me on antibiotics for most of the summer.  I was tired frequently, and my energy was low.  Checks with my GP suggested that I would need additional tests, but I was diagnosed with malabsorption and put on a special diet to improve my iron, vitamin and other levels. In September, I had planned to visit my friends in Europe, but that was canceled because of a change in their circumstances.  So I thought that I would surprise my parents with a visit home for their 45th anniversary.  I flew home, arriving on

I was clearing some closets recently and discovered that I have a veritable graveyard of old technology.  Starting with a Palm V (anyone remember those?) through a mini-laptop and external drives.  I also found a box of old drive cables, including a serial bus cable. I remember when each of these was new, and how excited I was to get them.  The Palm V was supposed to replace my paper diary (it didn’t, not completely) and keep me more organized.  I did use it for the scheduling functions, but it often ran out of power. I think I spent more time playing solitaire on it than tracking my activities. Then I had my MP3 player.  I opted against the iPod, because I had a Zen that provided everything the iPod did for much less.  I used it almost daily for over a year — I even upgraded it — and then it fell into disuse when I changed offices and lost access to the radio feature.  My mini-laptop was my choice over a tablet; it was smaller and lighter than a traditional laptop, but lacked the

The first time is special, isn’t it?  To be the one to, pardon the pun, enter virgin territory. The person who is first is special, unlike others, is remembered for this accomplishment. Then there’s a wash of other, lesser mortals who are forgotten and the special nature becomes ordinary. We’re still marking “firsts” even now. Some of them are breakthroughs in science and medicine - first targeted DNA treatments for cancer; first driverless cars; robotic surgery... marvellous innovation!  Some firsts are, well, sadly coming late. It’s 2017, and still we’re looking at first black, first Asian, first woman to be recognized.  We should have had all of those behind us years ago. It adds to the sadness when we actually enter debates about who is the best first. Earlier this year, Canada wanted to introduce a woman, other than the Queen, on the currency.  Debates about the selection raged, with critics saying that while Viola Desmond was worth honouring there were others who were at leas

Channeling some Bob Marley today. I couldn’t avoid this one. I’ve been trying, but it got too big.  So much anger is being displayed against inclusion, and my brain is not coping well. In my opinion, equity is essential to society. There is no argument for denying access to people that makes sense.  We’ve used all kinds of excuses:  women are too emotional to be in business; nursing is not for a man; black people don’t have the capacity to be academic; Chinese are good for mining work, and so on.  As time passed, we’ve gradually realized that these are all very stupid, weak and disgusting excuses for protecting the privilege of a few. Sadly, humans are human, and we can justify anything using any argument.  We have used texts that speak of love to excuse horrible behaviour, and then used more of the texts to condone more atrocities.  We have a web of illusion that allows us to pretend that “others” do all the wrong and we are blameless, but if we’re honest, we all contribute to d

I was thinking about the core myths we use daily.  In my case, they include the belief that I am the master of my fate: that I can control the outcome of my life choices.  To a degree, that’s true.  If I decide to eat a salad, there are consequences to that choice.  In my case, it would mean a day or so of “digestive distress”, a polite way of saying that I’ll be unfit for human company! This served me well in many circumstances growing up. My determination (what some people called stubbornness) helped me through many difficulties and enabled me to achieve my goals. It has been such a central part of my psyche for so long that teenage me received a poster that commemorates it! Over the years, this pushed me out of my comfort zone to take on different roles, up to working on my communication style and changing some behaviours. Now, my willpower is not enough to get me through this.  I rely on it for a lot of strength, and it helps me to set goals, to plan and to focus on a future.  

As everyone knows, I'm an avid and voracious reader.  I was rereading some of my old favourites -- this time Asimov and Clarke -- and I was struck by how much things have changed. Science fiction has gone through many iterations from the early days (Jules Verne and H.G. Wells spring to mind).  It's always been a place to explore humanity separated from "reality" (No, I won't go into a discussion of Star Trek here!  I'll save that for another time  🙂). Issues like racism, morality and politics are all addressed using aliens, unusual situations (end of the world, leaps through space...) But the thing that stuck out most in my latest reading was the role of women and societal mores. Asimov, Clarke, Heinlein and Silverberg wrote during the "golden age" of science fiction, at a time when there were few, if any, women leads.  In fact, most of the books featured no female characters.  If they did, they were either vapid housewives who were an inconven

This week, I officially ended working.  It was a day that I knew would come, but I had planned it for "someday when I'm older." I had mixed feelings about going in to empty my office.  One part of me was hurt that my coworkers hadn't sent a card to wish me well, and I didn't want to meet any of them because I didn't want my hurt to show.  Another part of me cringed from the finality of emptying my office -- of giving in and admitting that things have changed.  The third part wanted to be back with people that I've worked with for over 10 years, and who are an extra support system.  Then, of course, was the part of me that wondered "what am I going to do with all the stuff in my office?" So last Thursday -- August 31, the end of the month, and (symbolically) Independence Day -- I headed in, carrying my laptop, phone and pass for the last time.  The comforting familiarity of being there, going up the escalator, walking past the line at Tim Hort

I was listening to some Beatles music recently, and one of the songs was Eleanor Rigsby .  I always found that song exceptionally sad, and this time wasn't any different.  It got me thinking about all of the "invisible" people we encounter daily, and how many there are. I realized, in my visits to the hospital, that I encounter at least 15 people on any visit, but I wouldn't remember their names.  There's the receptionist -- who changes each time; the nurses; the orderlies; the technicians... Add to those the volunteers, the security officers, etc, and it's easy to see how they add up.  I started thinking about how many people I encounter daily, and then I wonder how many of them remember me? We all like to think that we're remarkable, special and that we leave a strong positive impression. To our families and loved ones, we are.  But outside of that charmed circle, we're another face in the crowd, or a shadow that passes.  We're invisible to o

This is post 💯!  Woo! For reaching this lovely, round milestone, I've been reflecting on the changes in me over the past 7 years. The early posts on this blog contain the comments that I had found hard to believe.  They are all true, no matter how outrageous they seem.  I had collected them to highlight the absurdity of many everyday activities.  There are lots more, but the world has become much less civilized and the need for those has decreased. Then I tried online journaling as my blog.  Let's just say that I am not Samuel Pepys.  The discipline needed escaped me. Plus, I thought people would be bored reading about my meals 😀  The current incarnation is a series of thoughts about various topics.  These change depending on my mood or what enters my mind at random times.  And here's what I was thinking today. A few weeks ago, I attended a project management seminar. I used to do these regularly, but have slipped off lately.  One friend who I had met during our P

I am angry.  It's a deep, simmering anger, that I've been refusing to acknowledge for months.  In fact, it's been brewing since the day 6 months ago when my doctor said, "Your cancer is incurable.  We can still treat it, but the goal is now to make sure that you're comfortable and manage your symptoms." I thought that I was managing it.  I found things to do, focussed on work, dealt with issues, learned new things... went through radiation treatment, travelled, visited people.  But it keeps popping up.  At 2am when I woke up and the dark hovers over me, my imaginings include accidents, yelling at random strangers... when I went out, I hoped for opportunities to pick fights.  I thought I was managing it.  I listened to people being awkward with their comments.  "You look fabulous, you must be feeling fine!"  No, actually, I'm not.  "Oh, I'll see you back in the office in 2 weeks!"  I don't think so.  "Have you tried

Some years ago, the wife of a friend of mine met my group of friends and said, "How did you meet so many strong women?  I've never seen so many in one place!"  It surprised me, because I'd never met any woman who wasn't, by definition, strong.  The women that I knew, and all the ones in my life, had all been good examples to me.  This started with my own family.  My grandmother raised 3 daughters after being widowed at 38 in a time when women weren't encouraged to work outside of the home.  My great-grandmother helped foster many children apart from her own 9.  My paternal grandmother raised 11 children.  My aunt raised a large family working a low-wage job.  Another aunt went to work as a typist to help support the family.  My mother was one of the first non-white employees in an organization where she stayed for almost 40 years.  The list goes on. When I moved to Canada, the other women that I met were equally strong.  Some had left war zones to start new

Winston Churchill, among others, noted that freedom of speech for some people means saying what they  think, but taking offence at others.  In the 70 years since his time, we've had many disputes over what constitutes free speech.  Most recently, we've had debates on "being politically correct" and a huge backlash against "progressivism" and "liberalism." I'm not entering into a discussion on the value of euphemisms or political correctness.  Any initiative taken to an extreme is of no value to anyone.  And we can agree that there are people who don't understand moderation, or who think that their view is the only one that matters.  So I'll leave that there. But on the subject of free speech -- I'm inclined to think that we've become lazy debaters, and rude conversationalists.  Too many times I've heard or seen potential discussions deteriorate into name calling and demands to boycott people, businesses and ideas.  We se

I was at a project management seminar recently, and the talk turned (as always) to projects that don't work as planned.  I asked, "How many people admit to having managed a failed project?"  Unsurprisingly, every one began to argue the definition to put the most positive spin on the result, and to deny failure. Our society doesn't value setbacks, which is what happens when we fail.  We talk  about it -- who hasn't heard about Edison's 10,000 ways not to invent the lightbulb? -- but we don't want to admit to failing.  We also don't want to be associated with anything that doesn't work; one study that I saw that showed that almost 2/3 projects in IT did not succeed, but of all the many thousands of managers none will admit to having led any of them. Add to that the discussion on what constitutes success.  According to some people, success means having a big house, a luxury car, and a beautiful spouse.  For others, it's having stable income an

Has anyone paid attention to how often we hate something about our bodies?  It really doesn't matter what we really look like, everyone hates her belly, arms, neck, breasts... the list is as long as the number of body parts we have! Then there are the people who spend many thousands to nip, tuck, implant or remove things.  There is (as we all know) a booming industry fed off of vanity. I'm as guilty as anyone.  Having lost about 100lbs during my assorted treatments and illnesses, people now say "Oh, you're tiny!" I look in the mirror and I see the scar that bisects my abdomen, the skin that's loose, the sags and other failings.  I look at my pictures, and I see all of the flaws on my skin -- moles, discolouration, and faint lines.  I don't see myself as "tiny", but I see flaws and I think "Oh, I need to lose some weight!" We need to be kinder to ourselves.  If my friends see me as "tiny" and pretty, why don't I?  Ins

As I do from time to time, I'm re-reading some childhood favourites.  Some of them hold up very well (Chronicles of Narnia, Laura Ingalls Wilder, Anne of Green Gables) while others... not so much. I always enjoyed Enid Blyton.  I objected to the characterization of her books as racist and sexist, and inappropriate for children.  They may be racist and sexist in some ways, but the elements that make them good are the stories and the believable interactions between the characters, and those are entirely appropriate for children.  Who hasn't wanted to be able to solve mysteries like the Famous Five?  I know that I went in search of secret passages when I visited old houses :)  I also enjoy reading the Chalet School series, which presents a very idyllic school environment, with locations in Austria, Switzerland and the west of England.  It definitely encouraged me to learn French and German, and started a love affair with languages. Rereading these books now, I'm finding th