A Lesson in Letting Go

Just when I think I've really let it all go ...

I thought I had a bunch of stuff in a storage locker .. the stuff that didn't get divided up properly when we split up. Mostly boxes of stuff .. papers and junk. I can't even remember what was there. Except I think most of our pictures and sentimental stuff was there. The Victoria and Barry puppets from the puppet show at our wedding. Likely our wedding pictures too ..

I'd been wondering what to do with the wedding pictures. Seems I don't have to think about it anymore. Because they're all gone ... thrown out in the junk.

This is hard. Also a lesson in detachment. I can't even remember what was in there. So I can't really miss it if I don't remember I ever had it, can I?

Is this what memory loss feels like? To know you had something but you can't remember for love nor money what it was you had ...

Roses for Kenya

These roses were in the lobby of Hotel La Mada in Nairobi, the place where I visited for the conference of the International Association of Women in Radio was held in September.

Roses are one of the main export crops of the Rift Valley in Kenya. It's almost Valentine's Day. Ordinarily those roses would be headed for Europe. I am posting my picture of these roses for the people of Kenya ... these roses, which were picked by ordinary Kenyans trying to make a living to feed their families. These roses are for you, in hope and in solidarity.

I am listening back to the recordings I made at the awards gala, the high point of the conference which was organized by the Kenya Chapter of the IAWRT. It was a happier time in Kenya, a few weeks before the election call -- the election that scarred the face of Kenya perhaps forever. The theme of the conference was, ironically, Women Making Peace.

The sounds I am hearing are the sounds of music ... drums, lively songs in the local Swahili language. Voices of women .. from all over the world but mostly from Kenya, laughing.

I am hearing speeches which talk of difficult times for Kenyan women, but with an unmistakeable tone of hope that things were getting better. Talk of the upcoming election, the wish and desire for more representation by women in the highest halls of power.

If we had been able to see the future, would there have been all this hope? Good thing we couldn't have seen what was ahead or maybe we wouldn't have even all come to Kenya in the first place.

I am grateful that I had this opportunity to see this country when it was optimistic, when people really believed that things were getting better. And that the upcoming election, only the second free election in the country's young history, would bring even better things.

These roses are for you, women of Kenya. For strength, for resilience as you continue to work for peace in your fractured, bleeding country. See these roses for the beauty that they, and you, are.

The Ides Of February

If Julius Caesar had lived in Canada, the Ides of March would have been the Ides of February (for those of you who aren't up on your Shakespearean references, the Ides of March was the day that he met his death at hands of a group of senators who justified it by saying thing didn't assassinate Caesar, they committed "tyranicide".)

In the popular vernacular, the Ides of March are simply a reference to dark days. Which is what we have in Canada in the month of February.

I was talking to a friend of mine with prairie roots today about how February always seems to affect me ... doesn't matter how happy I am or how well things are going, February is the hardest month. This year, it's even tougher because I broke my glasses. To see clearly I have to wear my sunglasses, which, to coin a well used phrase, is akin to looking at the world "through a glass darkly". When I take off my sunglasses I see daylight but everything is fuzzy. And everybody who knows me knows how much I crave clarity in my life.

My friend reminded me "this is February and we are a northern people". She then reflected on her grandparents' life ... it's always been cold in February in Canada. And it used to be much colder than it is now. And they survived February just fine. Their solution, she postulates ... they just stoke the fire, stay home and just remember that spring will return.

I would imagine that the condition of depression existed back then too, so I'm sure not everybody handled it as well. Northern literature (especially the Scandinavian kind) can be very dark .. I once sat through a whole afternoon of Norwegian radio documentaries one afternoon .. holy hell, it was enough to make you want to stop living. It was kind of funny in a dark absurd kind of way.

So no Bergman this month.

So what's up with me? I'm frustrated because I'm not focussed. I'm frustrated that things are going exceptionally well but I can't seem to enjoy my success right now.

What to do? Well, I think I'll start by declaring February " the month of Take Care of ME". This is not the time to think about all of the heavy things I am used to thinking about.

When the sun comes back, I will focus once more on the fate of the world and all the people in it. Right now, I am going to remind myself that it's time to take care of me. Because, after all, we can't take care of anybody else if we don't take care of ourselves.

So I'm going to go for a walk. Eat chocolate. Borrow a musical instrument from my friend (because I'm always so much happier when I'm playing music). Not put pressure on myself. Reminding myself that it's Super Tuesday, which means GEORGE BUSH IS GOING!

And above all, reminding myself ... it's Canada. And this is February.