Some days I feel like this: snapped off with jagged edges exposed.
Some days I feel like this: uprooted and toppled.
But most days I feel like this: strong, straight, and reaching for the sky. I have a broken branch or two, but that’s okay. The morning sun shines on me and the skies are blue.
What kind of tree are you today?
Here is the first joy from my week. Her name is Farley, and she is my daughter’s new puppy. Look at that face!
My second joy is this colourful arrangement of heart cookies I made for Valentine’s Day. Yum!
The third joy was a sunset cross-country ski outing – with horses!
And now the book, which is also a joy. The Poetry Circle of the Canadian Authors Association branch in the National Capital Region published an anthology. Five of my poems are included in the book. You could buy it if you wish. (It would bring you joy.)
Where are you finding joy this week?
King Charles III and the Queen Consort, Camilla, released their first Christmas card since Charles became king. The message reads: Wishing you a very Happy Christmas and New Year.
Upon seeing this, my husband noted that in Canada we tend to wish people a Merry Christmas, whereas residents of the UK wish people a happy one.
Having mulled it over, in future I will wish people a Happy Christmas, because that is my truer wish. A person can be merry without being happy at all.
Merriment is surface stuff. To be merry, a person needs only to smile, laugh, and overindulge in shortbread and eggnog.
Happiness runs deeper than that. A happy person doesn’t need to be merry at all. Happiness is sitting at peace in the moment and being grateful for what is. The merriment, the gifts, the gingerbread, and the spiked hot chocolate are mere bonuses.
No matter what or how you celebrate, may you sit at peace in the moment, grateful for what is.
Happy Christmas.
During a writing workshop led by the fabulous Melissa Yi (emergency room doctor and writer, because both are so easy), she proposed finding humour by turning hate into love.
Here’s how it works: Think of a situation, and name three things you hate about it. Perhaps a ride on a municipal bus, for example.
You’re with me? All those things are contemptible. But Melissa suggested I should flip that into love.
Here’s your challenge for the day. Turn some hate into love. You might laugh, and you’ll for sure find some gratitude.
I work part-time at a library. Almost every day this happens:
A child about 7 or 8 years old enters with a parent. "Mommy (or Daddy), do they have books about____________ (dinosaurs... Lego... unicorns...)?" "You'll have to ask," the parent says. The child slinks behind the parent's leg, unwilling to face the scary prospect of talking to an adult. "You ask."
Last week a similar scenario unfolded beside me. A young boy asked his father about a book and his father told him to ask me.
After some time the boy worked up his nerve. “Do you have The Mysterious Benedict Society?“
“Yes!” I said. “Right over here.” We walked together to pick up the book.
“See?” his father said. “Asking is better than wishing.”
The rest of the afternoon I pondered,:
If you could work up the nerve right now, what would you ask for?
A doozy of a storm blew through Ontario, Canada on Saturday, May 21. In Ottawa, the storm caused more damage than either our legendary ice storm of 1998 or our more recent tornado. The tornado destroyed 80 hydro poles; this storm toppled 300.
We lost power for 7 days.
At that, we were lucky. Most houses in our neighbourhood are still without. As I write this, I hear generators in the distance. And chainsaws. And sirens.
Living without power for that long is disorienting for people of the 21st Century. We couldn’t focus. Routines fell apart. Sleep patterns were disrupted. We ate differently, and our digestive tracts protested. We moved from one room to another with a flashlight in one hand while flicking a (useless) light switch with the other.
Unable to work, or do pretty much anything, people moved around neighbourhoods like zombies. We mourned the loss of beloved trees. So many trees toppled or torn in two.
The event reminded us of the cruel indifference of nature. Sometimes a perfectly healthy tree had snapped while older, sicker ones nearby stayed standing.
The storm was not “fair” or “unfair.” It was its wild self.
Through it all, when we met neighbours on our walks, we counted our blessings:
I found another blessing while burning up data on my phone powered by a generator, I read a post on one of my favourite Facebook pages: The View From Connaught Pond, Grant Dobson | Facebook. I learned that the prickly pear cactus can thrive in Canada. I never would have thought it! That simple knowledge gave me joy in our time of frustration.
Another spot of joy came when I dug around in my garden and came upon some puffballs. I hadn’t seen them since I was a kid tromping around our farm woodlot. It was a simple, silly thing, but it brought light to my day when electricity couldn’t.
Watch the puffball, and tell me, what brought you gratitude and joy today?
Somerton Smith 