Working Through Anger

Some days and quite recently, I find myself looking at people I’ve known for years and I want to pick apart their character and fixate on their flaws. The surge of blood pressure that manifests into flushed cheeks, clenched fists or a tingling sensation in my forehead signals me to concentrate on breathing rather than judging. Yes, I have just experienced an emotional surge or the activation of my “reptilian brain” in full swing.

Recognizing what triggers me into an angry place is very powerful. I can look at myself as reactive or appreciate that I too have a limit for lies, deceit or unfair behaviour. Without such boundaries, without anger as a motivator, unjust situations, my general safety or that of others around me could go into the “what, me worry?” category.

My happiness is not dependant on not being angry. Instead, deeper self awareness powers me forward, beyond the emotion of the moment or reaction I could take toward those flawed human beings I described earlier. I am a lot like them, as my flaws show up when I judge them before considering what inside of me resembles their behaviour, or could. To seek understanding of those old characters will also power me past a need to judge as I too would like to be understood, loved and appreciated for who I am, flaws and all.

What Price Dreaming or Is It Worth It?

Too little too late. I've heard that phrase a lot in my life. But when it comes to dreaming with a capital D, keeping my integrity, faith in my fellow human beings, I don't believe it's Too Little or Too Late. I believe it's important to keep trying, to do those little things that add up to an eventual overall goal or outcome.

Considering that I've worked with a wide variety of people in my life, some may appear at first glance to be less than competent at their work or their social interactions. Yet in every one of them their lies a passion to do something that they are called to do. It could be to build a canoe, help feed hungry children, knit sweaters for premature babies or go on vacation to a distant land. It matters that we have dreams and passions as they drive us forward, giving us goals to aim for in a wide sea of possibilities.

Negativity can creep in and drown out the sound of our dreams calling us. The sound of our heart's longing can be smothered fear, anxiety or simple being stubborn toward change. Our ego asks us, or at time demands that we not hear what's echoing in our heart, what's waiting for us to flourish and prosper.

I have heard that call, it has come to me many times in my life. Write the book, paint the picture, help the neighbour, hug the kid, cry, laugh or both with the husband. Call my parents, call my sister, find time to volunteer more or find grateful moments daily. Dreaming is free, as Deborah Harry, Blondie's front goddess, sang once not long ago. I'll take my free time and in between time to dream more, complain less and find new ways of enjoying what I've got and the best ways I can use it. Dream a little dream of...you get to fill in the rest, if you dare.

New Home Office and Old Sewing Machine

My view couldn't be nicer. Back drop, forest and field. Butterflies, Red Winged Blackbirds, Dragonflies and green lush leaves. The hum of a yard machine and husband winding his way back as if quilting the grass into a textured shape of horizontal, parallel lines. Child blowing whiskers from almost-completed dandelion crop. Summer is a great time to write.

Today's sunset is gleaming off the dead tree in the farmer's field that separates our parcel from the Carolinian forest. An Anglican Manse used to stand behind that tree, once a front yard to the Minister who gave the Sunday Sermon at the Church across the way. The green and creamy beige field-left-fallow compete for the sunset's embrace. The Flies and Mosquitos tangle in their night time rumble.

At today's garage sale I found I hybrid Treadle and Electric Singer Sewing Machine, circa 1930. I learned how to sew on a Singer and was gleeful in dragging it's cast-iron body and heavy wooden cabinet into the house, husband laughing at my losing my track pants in the caper.

I have a contrast now of looking at a primevil forest, Mac and PCs and a 1930s Singer. All within 20 feet of each other and they seem to appreciate each other as I appreciate each of their distinct purposes as well. I enjoy machinery and electrical devices from many eras and as I oogle an iPad or iPhone4 moments ago, I find myself cooing over Singer's instructions equally so. If I had an old banana-seat bike here on the porch, I'd be taking a screw driver to it's handle bar tilt too, as I did over 35 years ago on Upper Ottawa Street in Hamilton. I am a Girl, Woman and Mechanical Freak all rolled into one. Glad of it too.