Tag Archives: teachable moment

May 12, 2009 · 1:16 pm

Extreme Spirit

I’m a thirty-something, a later-on-down-the-road thirty-something, but a thirty-something nonetheless.   OK, so I used to be a thirty-something, now I’m a forty-something AND a liar.

Much like you, I’m a very busy person.  I am pulled in a plethora of directions by a multitude of people each and every day that I get out of bed.  Which, incidentally, is when it all begins.  A single day has a month’s worth of activity packed into it and lasts, seemingly, about 20 minutes.   I pass strangers on the road, in the coffee shop, and while I’m about my usual business and occasionally I will see one that seems to be … smiling.  How is it possible that they have time for smiling?  And what are they smiling about?  I’m confused, haunted and tormented by their smiles.  But ultimately, I want what they have.  It’s some sort of ‘oomph’ that sets them apart from the struggling, the downtrodden and the doomed.  

Perhaps I just need to rearrange my furniture to be in line with my “chi”, or maybe its much more, like I should be seeing a new age herbalist that will begin with concocting special ‘smiling’ recipes for me that contain eye of Newt and molecules from the Dea Sea, and then I’ll be wrapped from head to toe with spirit blessed rice parchment that will have been painlessly pieced together by nearly extinct rain forest pixies, who will then squeeze their magic tears into my eye sockets each night before I fall into deep slumber.

I may look into that, I believe meeting a pixie would make me slightly giddy, and I haven’t been giddy since I was a twenty-something.  However, I believe the truth behind these smiles is less about fairytale elixirs and more about their resolve.  Their spirits are uncrushable.  Each day is an adventure and their curious minds leave nothing undiscovered.  They are life enthusiasts and their grit for adventure extends far beyond the norm.  Their passion and vigor can be very contagious and after a little more than a brief encounter with one you find yourself on their mailing lists for dog sledding in Alaska and mountain hiking on Mt. Kilimanjaro.  You know these people.

Maybe we should strive to live our lives with just a flicker or a hint of that ‘oomph’.  I, for one, am going to stop scowling at the smiling people and instead remind myself to find the adventure for myself that seems to have found them.  Something fun, something extraordinary, something good for my health and spirit, and something that will make strangers scowl at me.

I’m not much of a team player, I have problems with sharing, control and authority… and I lie, so traditional team sports are out.  I’m far too buff as it is <cough> for free weights, and I bore easily with mindless repetition. 

But… I do know a guy who could set me up for a week in a yurt with a magical chanting goat (I’m on his mailing list) and he claims you just haven’t lived until you’ve sung with a Bovidae.

Look, I’m smiling already.

 

-uberscribbler

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March 24, 2009 · 3:37 pm

Be Brave… if you feel like it.

Pfizer Canada Inc. has a new campaign.  It’s called “more than medication” and it intends to be instructional on improving your health and wellness beyond just the use of medication.  It’s a brilliant philosophy; one I wish I’d come up with myself!   The site offers a plethora of interactive tools, informative articles and everyday tips that are prepared and presented by an Advisory Board of doctors who are considered leaders in their chosen fields, and on behalf of Pfizer.

You may have seen the commercial for this campaign on TV; with the teenage boy who paints the “Be Brave” graffiti outside the small girl’s bedroom.   It’s a very touching sentiment and truth be told I get a lump in my throat each time I think of his gesture toward her. 

As touching as it is, I also feel some bitterness about the message painted.  We are led to believe that this little girl is quite ill, possibly terminal, and we are telling her to BE BRAVE.  Not asking – commanding.  Basically, buck up little beaver, suck it up and put on your happy face because it’s much too difficult for us to deal with if you’re sad or afraid.  It’ll just be harder on everyone, so it’s better if it’s just harder on you.  (That’s not Webster’s definition but its close) So we force a cloak of courage over her and we throw this little girl into battle as a warrior.  Does she always have to be brave?  Are you always brave?  Is it even healthy to always be brave and courageous?  By toting this jargon over and over again to the ill or downtrodden we imply that to have fear or show sadness is cowardice and weak.   It is implied because we have all learned some associations to our emotions – some are good (positive) and some are bad (negative). 

Really they just are what they are… emotions. We determine what we consider good or bad or acceptable or unacceptable.  There is no great Emotions God in the sky dictating that we treat some emotions with open arms and that we turn our backs in disregard to others.  Granted that some are fun to feel while others are not so much fun, but that doesn’t mean they are bad; or not worth having.  We need to stop deciding for other people what is acceptable for them to feel and what we are willing to tolerate from them.

These associations have been around a lot longer than us, and there are plenty more unconscious associations that we make every day.  Why does it matter?  Each day that you go about your unconscious life you may be unaffected by these associations, but be sure that you affect other people, and sometimes in devastating ways that you aren’t even aware of.

I think I will write to Pfizer and suggest they change the words “Be Brave” into “Today I will be brave for you” or “We’re here” or “You’re loved” or something that doesn’t require our egos dumping a burden of guilt on someone who just might not feel so brave today.  It’s OK to be afraid sometimes, let’s tell her that.

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March 15, 2009 · 11:01 am

A woman with no nose.

As a young girl, I would hang around in my grandfather’s workshop daydreaming the hours away.  Above his bench there was a small black cast iron plate that read “I once complained that I had no shoes… until I met a man with no feet”.  Even as a young girl that resonated with me.   My grandfather and his bench have been gone for 30 years, but that simple quote still plays in my head. 

The other day I stood patiently in line for the cashier at the corner Dollar Stop.  An old woman in front of me (moving impossibly slow) had far too many packages and bags for her cane to allow, and not near enough nimbleness of fingers to find her wallet and count out her total in coins, which I knew to be inevitability.  With her back to me, I passed the time imagining her haggard features and the events of her life that led her to this moment in time where she now stood before me and my ultimate freedom from the store.

In one quick second the old woman lost her wallet to the floor and the coins bounced and rolled in all directions.  Instinctively I dropped to the floor to begin the task of retrieval.  I quickly gathered her entire payment into the palm of my hand and gently extended my hand to the woman …whose back was still facing me.   She turned slowly and deliberately, (only later did I consider it a mustering of courage) and the old woman looked me in the face with the gentle eyes of a long lived life. 

There was a white surgical bandage running the length of her face, starting at forehead space between her eyes and stopping just short of her thin and chapped lips.  More startling than the presence of this white bandage was the absence of the bump from her nose.  The bandage was neatly placed, without wrinkle, and placed as smoothly against her skin as it would have been upon a tabletop.  I could hear the insensitive gasps of shoppers behind me and I squared my shoulders to block them from her view.  I kept my eyes locked on hers and with a genuine smile I took her small hand and placed her coins into them.   Her hesitancy broke my heart and in the same moment I suggested that if she was interested in throwing her money away that she might give me a moment to prepare a bag for catching it.  With this small joke the cashier giggled and the old woman smiled and spoke to me for the first time; an offer of thanks and an explanation of age for her clumsy nature.  With that, the old woman was gone and I was left with my silent curiosities and a total abandonment of my earlier impatience.

On the ride home the old woman dominated my thoughts.   Again I considered the events of her life that had led her to this moment.  The courage and strength she must wear out of the safety of her home like a coat and the sheer pleasure of a simple outing to the Dollar Stop.   This was a teachable moment for me.

What I take for granted can sometimes be as obvious as the nose on my face.

~uberscribbler

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