It snowed last night. the roads are covered in a delicate white blanket. The branches of the trees are dusted in white. Noises are muffled in the snow. The air thicker, heavier, as if the cold has tempered its capacity to carry sound.

And it promises to get colder.

Sometimes, I wish the weather just wouldn’t keep its promises!

But, the weather is the weather. there’s little I can do to change it. All I can do is dress for it.

So, if that’s the case, why do we humans spend so much time grumbling about something we cannot change?

When I worked at the homeless shelter, the weather was not only a common subject matter for clients and staff, it also often acted as a draw for the media.

It was inevitable. A weatherman would announce an imminent drop into a sub-arctic coldspell sweeping in from the north and a reporter would call. “How are you getting ready for the cold snap?” he or she would ask.

“By doing what we do every day, 365 days of the year,” I’d reply. “Doing everything we can to keep clients safe.”

“Can I bring a camera down and interview you. Maybe talk to some of the clients?”

And they’d come down, cameraman/woman in tow, set up outside in the driveway, or sometimes on the second floor day area, and ‘ask away’.

Now, don’t get me wrong.  Media play an important role in helping agencies connect with the general populace. Media help get the message out. We must all take action to change the face of homelessness in our city.

But our fascination with the weather in our northern climes doesn’t help us adjust to ‘what is’. It just keeps us focussing on how we’d like it to be — which is always warmer — unless of course it’s a summer heat wave and then all we can talk about is how we’re all hoping for a break in the heat.

Yesterday, on my way for a coffee shop a block away from the office where I’m working, I took a shortcut down a back lane and passed a couple huddled together around a shopping cart that was parked against a wall of one of the buildings lining the alleyway. They shared a cigarette and something in a brown paper bag, chatting and laughing together as I approached. They saw me coming, and turned away from me either in an effort to avoid eye contact or perhaps to hide the brown paper bag. I carried on.

On my way back, I stopped to say hello. I’d bought a couple of extra coffees and muffins and asked if they’d like them.

“We don’t need charity,” the woman quickly responded.

“It’s not charity,” I replied. “It’s one neighbour helping another. It’s cold out here and I thought maybe a coffee would help warm you up.”

The man eyed the cardboard tray of coffee and muffins I held in my hands. “Is there sugar and real cream?” he asked.

I smiled. “Yes. I brought extra.”

“I miss sugar and cream,” he replied, reaching out for the tray.

The woman looked at me suspiciously. “We’re not neighbours,” she said.

“Yes we are,” I replied, handing over the cardboard tray to the man. “I work in that building, just down there.” And I pointed to the office building I was heading towards further down the lane. “And I’ve seen you out here before.”

“Ya know, they don’t got sugar at the Drop-In,” he said, naming the shelter where I used to work. He perched the tray on top of a box in their shopping cart, pulled out a cup and wrapped both his hands around it as if collecting up its warmth.

He put it back into the box, picked up several sugar packs, tore them open and poured them all in at once to the now unlidded cup of coffee. His hands were weathered. His fingernails dirty. They looked cold.

The woman watched the sugar spill out into the coffee. She reached for the other cup on the tray.

“That still doesn’t make us neighbours,” she insisted.

I smiled. “True. But it doesn’t mean I can’t offer a couple of strangers a cup of coffee.”

“We gotta a place,” she said as she too poured several pouches of sugar into her coffee. “We just come down here…” and she paused as she thought of her response. “For the change of scenery,” she finished her sentence with a laugh.

They both laughed uproariously. I laughed with them.

And walked away.

“Thanks for the coffee,” they both called to my retreating back.

“You’re welcome,” I called back.

And I thought about what else I could do to help out my neighbours. Maybe carry a couple of pairs of mitts in my purse. Some clean pairs of socks. Lip balm to give away.

We are all neighbours and there’s always something we can do to help eachother out.

How many times have you heard the phrase, “I couldn’t help myself”?  How many times have you used it?

Well, this morning it’s true for me. Last night, I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t not stay up to hear Mitt Romney’s acceptance of what was true for him in the election last night. I couldn’t not stay up to listen to President Barack Obama accept what was true for him.

I’m glad I did because, I couldn’t help myself. I had to do it.

Even though I told myself, I can hear the replay tomorrow. It’s past midnight. I’ve got to get up in the morning. I couldn’t not stay up to hear them live.

President Obama’s speech was passionate, heartfelt and inspiring. I like the man I’ve seen on news shows and in debates. I like what he stands for. I like how he responds to criticism and to accolades. I like him. And while I’m not American, listening to his speech last night, I gained a better understanding of my neighbours, and friends, to the south and I gained a deeper appreciation of what makes one man, and one nation, great.

This is not a political column. I don’t pretend to have great insight into the workings of the ‘big machine’. But last night (early this morning) I came to a realization of what it is I so admire about my neighbours to the south. You are not victims of the past. You are victors of the present. You are visionaries of the future. 

In his speech last night, President Obama said.

“That’s why we do this. That’s what politics can be. That’s why elections matter. It’s not small, it’s big. It’s important. Democracy in a nation of 300 million can be noisy and messy and complicated. We have our own opinions. Each of us has deeply held beliefs. And when we go through tough times, when we make big decisions as a country, it necessarily stirs passions, stirs up controversy.

That won’t change after tonight, and it shouldn’t. These arguments we have are a mark of our liberty. We can never forget that as we speak people in distant nations are risking their lives right now just for a chance to argue about the issues that matter, the chance to cast their ballots like we did today.”

He made me want to get up and get engaged, get involved. He made sense of why we all need to vote, to exercise our right to have a say in the very vehicle we have constructed to determine who leads our cities, our provinces/states, our country. And then he said,

“Tonight you voted for action, not politics as usual.

You elected us to focus on your jobs, not ours.”

And then…

“But that doesn’t mean your work is done. The role of citizens in our Democracy does not end with your vote. America’s never been about what can be done for us. It’s about what can be done by us together through the hard and frustrating, but necessary work of self-government. That’s the principle we were founded on.”

Ah yes, people are elected to office to represent ‘the people’, not their self-interests. They take up the mantle of governance to be the voice and counsel of those who elected them to office. It is a reciprocal relationship and yet, so often, we ‘the people’ forget our role in that equation. We acquiesce to politics, to authority, to people in position to whom we not only cede power over governance of our cities and provinces and country, but also our lives.

I stayed up late last night to hear a great man speak up and out for a great country.

Sure, I can sit here in the northern climes of Canada and be part of the voices that deride or mock our neighbours to the south. Sure, I can criticize what I judge to be their short-sighted financial policies, their lack of universal health care, their military apparatus, their pollution, their greed, their arrogance.

But none of it would be true and all of it would be unworthy. Of them. Of me. Of my country.

Because what I heard President Obama say last night is that it takes everyone to create change. It takes everyone to make a difference. And in my view, that everyone includes me. It includes all of us living and breathing the shared air of this planet earth we call home.

Sure, the United States is a powerful country — but, they stand on the same continent, share the same waters, air, land that we do here in Canada. And between our continent and others on this planet, there are the shared waters that flow between us.

We are all connected.

And the sooner I let go of my belief that we are separate and distinct, disconnected through the name of the country stamped on our passports, the sooner I’ll find my difference connecting to what makes we humans great — our capacity to not just improve ourselves, but rather, our capacity to transform our world, person by person, heart by heart.

Thank you President Obama for reminding me about my capacity to make a difference. Thank you for reminding me that we are all born to live our greatness. It’s not just your job. It’s mine too.

My eldest daughter sent me a text last night. “I am really grateful for you” she wrote.

My heart sings.

My youngest daughter and I have a dinner date on Thursday night. It’s our commitment to each other to do it at least twice a month.

My heart is light.

I haven’t spoken to my mother in weeks.

My heart is heavy.

To lighten my heart I must do the things that unstick it. I must soften it through kindness, compassion, Love.

Note to self. Phone my mother.

Today.

My eldest sister Jackie is our mother’s caretaker. She takes her to doctor’s appointments, the bank, lunch. She and her husband have her out to spend a weekend at their house at least once a month. My mother isn’t always the easiest person in the world to spend that much time with, but my sister does it. She loves her and expresses her love through the thing my mother wants most, time with her daughter. Time being part of the circle of love that she gave birth to.

Awhile ago, my mother told me she didn’t want to have lunch with me because I would probably say something to make her angry. I got angry and didn’t ask her again. Though I do think about dropping off flowers, or a note, or something sweet to the assisted living lodge where she lives.

Problem is, I only think about it. I don’t put action to my thoughts.

All the good intentions in the world won’t create a world of goodness if I do not act on my intentions.

See, my mother and I never had that great a relationship. We never spent time together, mother daughter, without what I judged as her neediness and what she saw as my rebellious nature clashing. As we aged, I resisted time spent defending myself against what I judged to be her onslaught of criticism. She resisted time spent with my constant defensiveness. I like to deal in reality, I told myself. She likes to live in make believe.

And now we sit, two women on distant shores of the river that divides us — figuratively and literally. We live in the same city but she is on the north side of the of the river flowing between us.

I have a lot of excuses for why I don’t connect with this woman who gave me birth. And believe me, all of them are good!

I mean seriously. She has a phone too. Why doesn’t she just call me sometime?

I can be so funny when I’m riding roughshod over my conscience and my heart, flinging off excuses as I gallop through fields of self-justification.

My mother is 92 years old. She wants only peace in her life. Why would she want to spend time with a daughter who she sees as having habitually created strife in her life?

Now, don’t get me wrong, my mother isn’t ‘innocent’ in the distance between us. There’s a lot of water under this bridge and I’m not the only one who poured it in! (So there!)

It took two to create this ocean between us, says my heart with a defiant stomp of its heavy left foot.

Softening my heart isn’t about right and wrong. It’s about doing the right thing. Doing the things that unstick the hardened areas of my heart to let harmony and joy flow all around.

It takes two to keep the distance static. It only takes one to shift direction to start closing the gap. It only takes me to make the step across the river.

And all the self-justification in the world doesn’t really cut it when my heart knows that which it wants most. I am not being true to myself when I resist Love.

Note to self. Call my mother. Take action. Today.

What about you? Is there someone in your life where your thinking is consumed with self-justification and rationalization to ensure you keep your distance? Is there somewhere in your heart that needs softening?

And yes, I know. You gotta protect yourself. You gotta keep your distance….

Really?

I know I have no need of connecting with some people from my past. My thoughts of them are not filled with rationalizing why I shouldn’t.

But with my mother… my thoughts are often filled with reasons why it’s not my fault I need to keep my distance. And in my rationalizing why ‘it’s not my fault’, I create a faultline that has more to do with keeping me standing on the other side of the river, resisting opening up to that which I want more of in my life. Love.

Time to change directions. Time to make a difference in the area of my life where I need to move on, towards and into Love. Time to let my heart sing.

I first met Sarah Moss at a course we were both attending six and a half years ago. In my eyes, she had it all. Her heart was beautiful and her world was complete with a loving husband. A beautiful son. Caring parents. Friends. She looked to me like the perfect wife, mother, daughter, friend.

But surface observations never reveal the depth of someone’s life. Over the next few years I’d get to know Sarah better as we shared those areas of our hearts we don’t reveal on first acquaintance.  I discovered there were places of deep pain and sorrow in Sarah’s life. Her marriage broke up, she struggled to make ends meet and come to grips with what had happened. And through it all, I saw that which I had observed about Sarah when first we met — her beautiful heart shining brightly.

Today, Sarah shares her gifts of the written word in her Guest Blog.  Please do drop a note for Sarah, and let her know you too see the beauty of her heart shining brightly.

Making a Difference

by Sarah Moss

For years I dreamed of being the “ideal” mom, homemaker and wife. I envisioned my life would be a perfect one, where I did everything right, my marriage and children would be as perfect as possible and problems would be far and few between. Was I ever wrong! Now, living in reality, in the midst of a divorce, raising two boys on my own who are almost never clean and tidy and have special needs that take a lot more time and energy than I ever thought possible. Cooking, baking, canning and yes, even housekeeping some days, take a definitive sideline. I’m realizing that making a difference sometimes just means accepting the world as it really is.

When I cling to the belief that I must be perfect, that I should be able to accomplish everything and still have energy left in the day, I get so worn out that I can’t figure out up from down, left from right and it all falls to pieces. When I stop, take a deep breath and look at what I can realistically accomplish, I realize that I can do everything I need to. I need to revise my view of what being the “ideal” mom is. I don’t have to have all meals planned and prepared in advance, I don’t have to make all their clothes by hand, canning will likely not happen until the boys are MUCH older, if then, and baking is a novelty to be done on special occasions or during home economics class (I homeschool). What the “ideal” mom may look like to me is that I spend time with them, teach them, mentor them and provide for them while still taking time to take care of me.

When I example to my boys that it’s okay to take care of me, I teach them that it’s okay to take care of themselves too. When we recognize we have a need and we take steps to meet that need, we are living healthfully and it will make a difference! If I can teach them that they don’t have to be perfect, they just have to do their best, I will have made a difference in the world. When I example to them that I expect myself to be perfect, I destroy that difference. Right now, I’m working hard at exampling to them that they have great worth, that they are loved and that healing is an important process to undertake. When life covers us in the mud of its horribleness, it’s okay to take the time to clean it off.

I’m learning and feeling my way along this process, it takes time to change, but by choosing change I make a difference immediately in my home and circle of influence, as well as making a difference for the future because I am raising men who hopefully will not expect perfection, either of themselves, their families or their circle of influence, instead drawing others to only do their best and to allow themselves time to heal and care for themselves when it’s needed.

I’m praying that by living life to my best, by allowing perfection to fall by the wayside, that I’ll make a difference in the world; in the world we live in now and in the world my children will lead in the future.

Saturday! And time to celebrate heroes in our midst.

In the aftermath of Sandy, New Yorkers and millions of others along the eastern coast continue to dig out from Sandy’s wreckage. Some continue to be without electricity. Some struggle to get gas. To buy groceries. To rebuild. And through it all, brave acts are performed. Neighbours connect. Lisa Rosenberg writes on her blog, Rising from the Depths in the name of Bipartisanship, “We’re all managing to stay in touch somehow, finding friends in corners of town with power, who invite us to a “charging-up” get together:  bring your devices, a load of laundry: enjoy a cup of hot coffee, a few hours of heat.” The New York marathon is cancelled. Rebuilding continues.

Lisa and her neighbours and everyone who is continuing to dig out from the storm are all heroes.

This morning, reading Elizabeth’s post, My Values #3 Dependable, at Almost Spring, I was inspired by her words of wisdom, truth and beauty. Elizabeth writes of what makes the value of being ‘dependable’ so important, and how she expresses it everyday — very inspiring!

Elizabeth is a hero.

Yesterday, as Ellie the wonder pooch and I walked along the path, we caught up to a woman whose walk consisted of moving a few feet forward, stopping, looking up, binoculars pressed tightly against her eyes. When we approached, she dropped the binoculars and smiled. “What do you see?” I asked. “I see Pine Grosbeaks feeding on the pinecones,” she replied. I looked up into the snow laden boughs of the pine tree and was in awe of what I had not seen before. “And I see beauty everywhere,” she said raising the binoculars to her eyes once again as Ellie and I walked away, albeit, more slowly now to give us time to savour the beauty everywhere.

That woman is a hero. She reminded me of the beauty all around. To stop. Slow down. And simply savour the world around me.

And, one final retrospective hero accolade.  When I visited Elizabeth’s blog this morning, she used a quote from Ben E. King’s 1961 hit, Stand By Me. Except, it was attributed to John Lennon. I went online and sure enough, there are many instances where the lyrics to Stand By Me are attributed to John Lennon. And I know they’re not. In 2009, I worked with a group of client musicians at the shelter where I used to work and recorded Stand by Me. Area musicians came in and volunteered their time and talent. Lanny Williams from The Beach Advanced Audio donated studio time and staff to cut the final recording and Lewis Levin of LL Video volunteered his time to create the video. It was an amazing project. Surrounded by such giving and talented people made a difference.

So… as my Saturday sharing, I share the recording here.  Everyone involved in that project was a hero. Clients, staff, volunteers, musicians, everyone. Heroes all.

He is standing at the Parking Pay Machine as I pull into the spot next to the “Pay Here” machine in the parking lot I use every day when I’m downtown.

I recognize his frustration. The hand moving forward. Moving back. Forward. Back.

Card in. Card out. Insert again. Remove again. Card in. Card out. A repetitive motion seeking a different outcome and receiving the same every time.

It’s not uncommon to witness this. I know. The Parking Pay Machine is a temperamental beast. It spits out annoying messages with ease. “Card not readable.” “Not valid.” “Declined.”  It seems to have a repertoire of messages to thwart the most optimistic of parking payee. Maybe it knows to not pay gets the system more dollars…. 🙂  No. That would be nefarious. Underhanded. Parking lot owners would never resort to ticketing and towing. They’re not in cahoots with tow truck companies. Right? ….

As it is, the man at the machine is getting frustrated. It is rippling in the air around him as I step out of my car and walk towards where he stands in front of the recalcitrant Parking Pay Machine.

“Did you try the other machine?” I ask.

He sighs. “Yeah. But it won’t even take a card. It’s completely out of order.”

“Oh.”

He puts his card in again. Takes it out. Steps aside. He turns towards where I stand, wallet in hand, credit card set to go. “Here you try it. Maybe if you use it you’ll reset it.”

I insert my card. Yes! The machine likes me.  It really likes me. It also likes my $20 to park for the day.

It spits out my receipt. I turn back to the man. “I feel like I’ve just won at a slot machine you got all warmed up!”

He laughs. Steps up to the machine. “Ok. Here goes.”

He puts his card in. The message flashes. “Card unreadable.”

He does it again. I give him full marks for persistence.

Steps back. Glances at his watch. Looks around as if to say, Ok Universe. Deliver me a miracle. Steps back to the machine for one more crack at the jackpot. No go.

“Here,” I say, taking my credit card out of my wallet again. “Let me pay.”

He looks at me, surprised. “What?”

“I’ll pay for yours. It obviously likes me.” And I smile.

“You’d do that for a stranger?”

“I’m sure you would too.”

I put my card in and the machine decides to play it cute. “Card not valid.”

Oh dear.

I try again.

Card not valid.

Third time lucky?

And it is. Suddenly, the machine likes me again. I pay for the man’s parking, he takes his ticket, thanks me effusively and we both go on to work out our day, our hearts lighter than when we first encountered each other at the Parking Pay Machine.

Last night, in my Living an Enlightened Life, we explored the question, “how would my life be different if I lived with the evolution of consciousness and culture as my first priority?”

It was a deep and meaningful conversation.

I’d be consciously taking action to bring the ideas of living from my authentic self, replied one of the participants on the call.

I’d live from that place that doesn’t ask, ‘what’s the payoff for me’ and instead operates intuitively from  the knowing of ‘what really matters’, said another.

I would be motivated by a sense of the deep significance I bring to the world, said one man. In that knowing, he would transcend ego and take responsibility for his cosmic significance knowing how important he really is in the world.

I listen to the responses and wonder, how would I be in the world if I lived with the evolution of consciousness and culture were my first priority?

I’d pay for someone else’s parking because it is an opportunity to be of service.

We are all connected.

And when our ripple sends out waves of generosity, goodness, kindness, we create ripples of generosity, goodness, kindness.

It is, The Ripple Effect. 

Creating a world of reciprocity in doing what we want to create more of in the world.

Creating a world of possibility where our focus on acting for the ‘greater good’ motivates our every expression of our shared humanity.

And just so you know, there was a moment where I wondered if I was being scammed. If maybe this guy did this all the time. But seriously? Is it worth it? To think ‘less than’ of my fellow human being?

I like the feeling of knowing I could make a difference in someone’s life simply by sliding my credit card into a machine and getting a ticket to spit out. In that act, I’m the winner. Because in that act, I let go of our separateness and move into that place where everything I do creates the kind of ripple I want to be in the world. And in that rippling place of our human condition shimmering in delight, miracles happen.

Namaste.

In her Director’s Notes for the University of Calgary Drama Department’s production of The Love of the Nightingale, Alyssa Bradac writes that the use of violence to silence and control women in society over the centuries is unforgivable.

I disagree.

We must forgive if we are to stop it.

Now, before you leap on my words in protest, I don’t agree with violence. I am not saying what has happened is right. In fact, right and wrong cloud the truth of what is happening, right and wrong pushes the perpetrator into the darkness of shame, holding them in place through the very power and control they use to commit acts of violence.

If we carry the belief ‘it is unforgivable’, we limit our capacity to change it and stop it.

Forgiveness is not about excusing or accepting bad behaviour. It’s not about saying, ‘it’s okay that rape is used as a weapon of war’, that unspeakable acts are committed against women every day and there’s nothing we can do.

Like not being unforgivable, these acts of violence must not be relegated to ‘unspeakable’. They must be spoken about. Spoken of. Spoken aloud.

When we hold onto unforgiveness, or the belief that we can not speak of the horror of what happened, what happened holds onto us. It takes up residence in our minds and bodies, creating lasting wounds through the terror of our silence.

Silence is an act of violence when used to push down giving voice to what ails us. It becomes power and control in its ability to silence our speaking up about what has harmed us. It freezes us in the very acts that keep us from living free of the burdens of the past.

We must forgive what was to discover what can be when we break free.

Unforgiveness keeps us locked on the battlegrounds of ‘us and them’ . It keeps us separate, trapping one in shame and the other in the powerlessness of the victim state of being.

When the man who promised to love me ’til death do us part and then set about trying to put action to the death part was arrested, I knew, deep within my core, that to be free I had to forgive.

Forgiveness didn’t make what he did right, or acceptable, or justifiable. Forgiveness took the emotional charge out of what he had done and freed me to heal without carrying anger, pain, horror, revulsion. Forgiveness gave me the courage and strength to move into healing free of holding onto ‘what had happened’ to revel in the joy of my life free of ‘what had happened’.

Forgiveness set me free.

Whether it mattered to him or not, didn’t matter. What mattered to me was my choice to forgive. In that choice, I was freed of shame and blame. I was free.

I remember shortly after he was arrested wanting desperately for my daughters to forgive me for what I had done to hurt them. And yet, I told myself, I will never forgive myself for what I’d done to hurt them.

How could that be possible? To seek their forgiveness yet to hold myself in unforgiveness?

It wasn’t. To create space for their forgiveness, I needed to forgive myself. And in that act of choosing to forgive myself, I had to forgive my abuser to set myself free of the past. I had to soften my heart and become forgiving and forgiven. I had to believe I was worthy of forgiveness.

To stop abuse. To change the course of violence in our world, acts of violence cannot be unspeakable. They cannot be unforgivable. For in the ‘un’ state, they cast a long dark shadow that clouds our hearts and minds with memories of the very act we are attempting to let go of, to stop, to change.

Forgiveness is a powerful force.

In forgiveness, possibility of awakening to the essence of our humanity arises.

In forgiveness, our humanity awakens to the truth of our presence here on earth.

We are born to be brilliant. To shine. To create beauty, acts of grace, peace, love and joy.

We are born to Love one another as if of the same heart. For we are, of one heart — the heart of our humanity beating wildly in the rhythm of life.

Do you ever have those situations where you’re positive you had everything organized only to discover you forgot one main ingredient?

Yes? Well, today’s guest blog is just such an example.

I had an interview set up last week but our schedules didn’t connect. I thought I had a guest blog in  my file ready to post and discovered I didn’t!

Which takes me back to that place where I must, Always begin again.

Life does that, we get busy, think we’ve got it all under control and by the time we realize it’s too late, we need to go to Plan B.

In this case, Plan B is to share some of the fascinating finds I found yesterday at Maureen Doallas’, Writing Without Paper. On Saturday’s Maureen shares her finds from around the weberverse — and they are always unique and intriguing.

One of her finds yesterday was a link to the DRAKE Equation — a tool developed by American astronomer Frank Drake in the 1960s to calculate the number of detectable extraterrestrial civilizations that may exist in the Milky Way galaxy. It is a simple, yet fascinating view into the possibilities of how much life really might be out there beyond the Milky Way.

The other link Maureen shared yesterday that I found fascinating was to a website I’d never heard of —  Information is Beautiful. Exploring Information is Beautiful takes you on a journey into beautiful and creative visuals that present complex ideas in stunning simplicity. Do explore!

And, because I get to make this Sunday whatever I want, I’m posting the video to The Butterfly Circus I mentioned yesterday. When I first saw this short 20  minute film a few years ago I began incorporating it into the classes I taught at the homeless shelter on self-esteem. Inevitably, as people watched, someone would cry, someone would get up and walk out, someone would change their mind about something they believed was a limitation in their life. And after the film, when I asked, “What did you discover?” someone would always reply, “I’m the one limiting my thinking about what I can do.”

Enjoy!

Oh! And before I forget…. Please take a few minutes to vote for Project True at AVIVA Community Fund — my daughter will thank you, and so will I!

There are heroes everywhere. Every day people doing ordinary things extraordinarily. Every day people doing extraordinary things as if it’s their ordinary thing to do.

On Saturdays, I like to celebrate a few of those people I meet throughout the week. Here are some of my heroes…

Last night I spoke at a gala held at the University of Calgary. The event was a special running of Timberlake Wertenbaker’s play “The Love of the Nightingale” which for that evening, was dedicated to raising funds for the United Way of Calgary and Area. The organizers wanted to highlight the importance of making a difference, and of acting as a community to address something that has a direct and dire impact upon 50% of our population and 100% of us as a whole — violence against women. The play is a powerful re-telling of an ancient Greek myth that resonates in our world today where the statistical probability of a woman — any woman — becoming a victim of sexual assault is one in three.

Alexis Berezan, Nilima Ajaikumar and everyone involved in organizing the event, as well as the cast and crew of The Love of the Nightingale are heroes.

On Tuesday morning I presented a course I created, “Homelessness: A Fresh Perspective” to a group of officers with the Calgary Police Service. The officers shared their perspectives, their learnings and their ideas on what is happening on our streets, as well as what it takes to help individuals retain housing after street life. The course is part of CPS’s initiative to find innovative and compassionate ways to work with  individuals who are street engaged or have recently moved away from street life and is indicative of the Chief’s belief in addressing social issues with social responsive solutions.

Chief Rick Hanson and the officers of District 3 are heroes.

My friend NR is away and had asked me to help her lease out a condo she owns by giving prospective renters a viewing, gathering references of those interested in leasing it and ultimately, organizing the signing of the lease. On Thursday night, I met with the couple who will be NR’s new tenants. Recently arrived from Iran, they are both professional engineers, eager to begin a new life here in Canada. They are staying with their cousin and her husband and 3 years old daughter, which is where I went to get the lease signed. The hospitality, warmth and graciousness of both the couple renting the condo and their hosts was delightful. I spent an hour with new Canadians Thursday night and was inspired.

New Canadians are heroes. They move to this foreign land with few belongings and courageously begin again with the hope of building a new life where they can prosper and participate in our communities.

And… because I like to give you something inspiring to watch…

Nick Vujicic was born without arms and legs — but that’s never stopped him. He is an inspiration and a hero. The video below is a 60 Minutes interview with him, and this LINK will take you to one of my favourite short films ever — The Butterfly Circus. Give yourself the gift of 20 minutes of inspiration and watch The Butterfly Circus.

Small things.

Do small things she suggests, rather than your tendency for all or nothing.

What? Me? All or nothing thinking?

And then I laugh.

She’s right. This nutritionist whom I’ve come to see for the first time and who makes me feel so comfortable I let myself become vulnerable enough to share the truth about my eating/exercise reality.

I am an all in or all out kind of gal. Extremist some might say. Me, I like to think of it as passionate, enthusiastic, energized.

But who am I kidding? I do have a tendency to think in all or nothing frames of reference.

Like running. Years ago I ran a marathon. I loved running. Thought nothing of going out for 2 or 3 hours, pounding the pavement, my mind in eased back mode as my body moved me through the paces.

And then, a pulled hamstring, a ripped knee ligament, a back injury and jogging became more pain than gain.

I quit. I didn’t pull back, or cut down or replace jogging with another less impact driven exercise. I quit.

Tried to run a few times but seriously, jog for just half an hour? Ramp myself up to it with running/walking intervals?

Ha! Where’s the fun in that? It takes me twenty minutes just to find my stride.

Why bother?

And so, I didn’t bother. And in my ‘not bothered’ state, daily exercise eased its way off my daily agenda as effortlessly as the pounds taking up residence on the scale.

Nature abhors a vacuum and if exercise isn’t filling my time, why not let the pounds take over?

And they did.

Now, getting regular exercise back on my plate requires a massive shift in my thinking.

Or so I tell myself — and anyway, what’s the point of trying to move dead weight? It’s so tiring.

But wait, says Janis  the nutritionist I’ve started to see at Elan Family Wellness Centre.

It’s not about massive shifts, it’s about small movements that gain momentum as they edge out all or nothing thinking to the furthest regions of your mind.

Apparently, the quiet adjustment that sneaks up on your psyche is better than the full onslaught of “I must do it all, now” thinking I am prone to.

So, for this next two weeks before my next appointment with Jan, I have a homework assignment. It’s not about massive change. It’s about committing to do three small things and loving myself enough to honour my commitments.

My three small things to make healthier choices?

1.  Swim 3 times a week.

2.  Include, ‘Holy Crap’ in my breakfast every day. (seriously, that’s what it’s called and just thinking about eating it makes me smile!)

3.  Reward myself once a day with one small thing I like to do — again — it’s not about big, it’s about enjoying the little moments.

It’s the third one I find most fascinating. When Jan asked me, “How do you reward yourself for achieving your goals?” I laughed.

“I set another goal,” I replied. “Or, I think about all the ways I could have done it better.”

Yup. Definitely all or nothing, extremist thinking.

It’s easy to give up when you don’t take time to appreciate the small steps you make along the way. It’s easy to give in to temptation when your sights are set on the big win and the target is so far away it appears as just a tiny blip upon a distant horizon.

Small significances make a difference.

Gently tugging on the reins of all or nothing, I gather up my big picture thinking, and ease myself  into that place where I celebrate all that I am when I let go of thinking I need to be anyone, anything, or anywhere than who and what and where I am right now.

Stay tuned. I’m making a difference in how I embrace myself with grace everyday. I’m doing 3 small things to make a difference to me.