Wednesday, September 20, 2023

My Favourite Podcast Set


 

Dr. Peter Jensen is a sports psychologist who worked with Canada's early Olympians. He helped them to conquer the mental aspect of being top competitors but his lessons are relevant for life. They are about building resilience and having the 'grit' to face even life's toughest hurdles. The lessons he shares became routines and practices that I adopted to help me through even the toughest times.



The podcasts below are from his book 'The Inside Edge'.




I first listened in 1993 or 4 while I was building my career. These 'ways of thinking' made all of the difference for me, and helped me navigate some challenging circumstances.

Mental Fitness -- He calls his practice 'mental fitness'. This first podcast describes what he means by that.

Self Responsibility -- This concept echoes the teachings of Stephen Covey. The foundation of success is about recognizing that the 'will' to progress must come from you. It is about 'owning' your energy and your outcomes. Victim-thinking says something outside of you holds your power. Reliance on others places your power in service to them. The world changes when you say -- this is about me, this is about my choices. 

The Power of Optimism -- This is about how positive thinking can actually shift your potential and lead to results.



Monday, December 27, 2021

Paths of Destiny

Path of Destiny

Souls, separated from the source
Welcomed to the world
By their chosen ones,
A babe in arms.

By design the birth place
Is situated in place, time and context
Akin to a trailhead to the life’s quest,
And enlightenment.

It is a journey of the heart.
To feel the heights and the depths
The connections and the losses
That each cycle of life includes.

Destiny is the seed
Imprinted from birth and
Anchored in the child’s eye
Visible through the heart.

Fate is the path
Evolving and naturally unfolding
An outcome of paths taken,
And paths not taken.

Mystery and synchronicity
Is God’s hand that nudges
One’s fate line to intersect
With destiny.

Inner voice, heard as
A sense of knowing,
Residue from a dream, 
A quickening of the heart,
Is the sign that destiny is at play.

Disney misinterpreted destiny.
Riches and glory 
In, and of themselves 
Are empty.

Destiny is your heart knowing it is home.
That its yearning is being fulfilled.
And it is in communion 
In the ways it needs to be.

To live within destiny is our birth rite.
To share the wisdom gained is our purpose.

Memory Seeker

Memory Seeker

Idyllic moments live in the recesses.
Whitewashed through time, their allure builds
Urging futile efforts to relive.

Flying into the wild
Disturbing the pristine surface
As floats skim and take hold
On a lake deep in the woods.
Quiet.  Punctuated by the rhythmic beat
Of ripples on metal 
And the whir of a fisher’s reel.

Springing forward and up
Arms like arrows, body tipping forward
Slicing the surface of cool water
To chase the chain links
Of a distant anchor, the sensation
Of being enveloped in water until
Lungs seem ready to burst.
The sun dappled sheet of surface water
Becomes an urgent target.

The hum of mis-sized motors
Punctuates the natural rhythm of waves
As moonlight speckles the surface,
Enlightening the journey to shore. 

A wiggly piglet pulling frantically
On the nipple of a nourishing meal
Sweet smells of warm milk and straw
A sow’s insistent and nervous grunts
In a barn fogged by breath and warmed by bodies.

Crackle of a fire heating against the humidity of night
Light emanates, creating a glow around a tribe.
Voices intermingle until one dominates.
Weaving a tall tale, artfully building a storyline 
Creatively including the listeners
In ways that encourage a small smile from each.
Encouragement fuels momentum 
As plot twists and turns are punctuated with laughter.

The long journey in the heat of summer
On the stuffy smoke-filled greyhound
To the undiscovered land of the Peace
Could have felt like an early death
Were it not for his appreciation for irony.
Her giggles couldn’t quit 
Impatient glares attracted by full on belly laughs
dispensing the discomfort.

Cherished memories of lost times
Are sweetness locked in the recesses
Behind the urgency of life’s pace
Stirred unexpectedly by a resonant moment
And surfacing emotions long forgotten.




Wednesday, November 17, 2021

Divisiveness

 The social bubbles are the root of it all.  People naturally cluster and form community.  Prior to globalization our first communities were familial, or derived through kinship.  The Scottish sense of clan is a group of people with strong familial and kinship bonds.  Networks like these also supported settlers in their first years on the harsh Canadian plots of land that were granted to them.  Marriage and kinship also established initial links between French and English fur traders and the Indigenous tribes living in the territories they worked.  Marriage into a family symbolized longevity and established trust between two kinship groups.  Kinship groups or clans that were loosely interconnected grew into tribes, the early Indigenous communities that cohabitated to ensure survival.

We view the same behaviours in all of the herding animal species.  If we were to trace the kinship patterns within a herd, we may see grandmothers, mothers and daughters and in some species the subservient sons and the alpha male.  Two herds may come together if the alpha male drives off a weaker alpha and takes responsibility for his herd.

Kinship groups and tribes needed to stay open to others.  Even animals understand that their line weakens quickly when they lose diversity and family ties become too closely knit.  Indigenous stories of ancient ways and times talk about gatherings, where tribes come together in times of celebration to intermingle.  

Over time other types of groups began to form.  These groups were formed by like-minded individuals and may include a common cause.  At times, these groups formed for warring, exploring, trading or for survival during difficult times.  The ways that individuals came together to support each other during strife built a type of brethren bond that extended beyond family, kinship, race or religion.  This is the ironic way that war and strife unites those that come together around a common cause.  A weird but common phenomena is the unbreakable bond felt by those who have survived trauma together. Learning that someone will protect you from harm or even death forms a bond of trust that is literally unbreakable. This is also the way that the idea of an ‘enemy’ is born.  

If you’ve ever viewed a herd of horses stand off against a predator species like a pack of wolves, you have witnessed a community coming together to face a common threat.

It is important to reflect on the cohesiveness of a community.  They are most cohesive when individuals need each other and unite around a common vision.  The community becomes more loosely connected in times of plenty and can become fractured when divided thought rises up within the ranks. When security and comfort are achieved for extended lengths of time, individuals turn their energy away from survival and begin to compare their ‘lot’ to the ‘lot’ of their neighbour leading to divisiveness. This has been called the comparative concern.

Biblical stories teach us about times when communities divide. Cain and Abel provide us an example of brothers who come to war. Cain creates fear and loathing amongst his kin and is cast out of the community, left to survive in isolation. It is said across many cultures that ostracizing an individual from a community is one of the most severe punishments. Many Indigenous cultures only resorted to these steps when absolutely necessary because it was said to create enemies. Shame and guilt are emotional counterparts to the fear of being ‘cast out’. It is these moments when the herd breaks that a community will divide. What happens next, and whether or not those new factions are competing for resources, or harbour resentments determines if they become peaceful neighbours or enemies. Communities war against each other due to fear, greed or revenge, in retribution for past actions.  In Buddhism, anger is viewed as a destructive emotion for its power to divide.

It is said that the surest way to societal upheaval is when vast differences in prosperity are apparent between intersecting communities. In fact, civil war can be predicted in a society where large numbers of the population have low economic means and a small number have extreme wealth with an obvious divide between the ‘haves’ and ‘have nots’. I believe popular media, our societal focus on having more and the ways that wealth is flaunted in Western cultures exacerbates this divide with an exponential effect. 

A sense of community, kinship and familial ties are essential for shared prosperity. Divisiveness steals our sense of safety. When we don’t trust, we are more likely to turn our backs on our neighbours. The pain of ‘being left out’ breeds anger and eventually hatred. When a group of those who feel like outsiders unite, a new community is formed that is centred on this hatred. They develop customs and rituals that are built around the anger and hatred. They build strength through war. They lose compassion for ‘the others’ and celebrate the suffering they see and can cause for others. They build a sense of righteousness from taking what they believe they’ve been denied. They lose empathy for all individuals that are outside of their circle.

Our internet-based world and social media-based ties do a few things to fuel the embers of discord that exist across communities. Popular culture celebrates wealth and privilege, placing individuals on pedestals who have not earned the esteem they are offered. I believe this trend to idolization goes against one of the Christian Ten Commandments, although I’ve rarely heard it interpreted that way.  In my opinion, this is truly ‘placing false Gods before me’. Social media enhances this effect by creating superficial and constructed fishbowls of our lives. The focus moves to appearances and depth and substance of communication and relating is lost and meaningless. Finally, the opportunity to connect is at an all-time high, so outsiders find ‘like-minded’ counterparts in ways they never could in prior generations. The foundation of this is that more people feel unworthy (unlikely to be celebrated due to their lack of wealth and privilege), isolated and misunderstood (symptoms of shallow social media connectedness), and hungry to be accepted by a group of outsiders that share their pain. The trifecta of these emotions can make anyone vulnerable to those voices that communicate a powerful, hateful, vision and if we were fruit, we would be ‘ripe’ for the picking. 

Through our own actions, our affinities and our inactions, we are creating the uncertainty that will enhance the divisiveness in our communities.  We are riding a ticking time bomb to chaos, war and suffering and somehow we’ve convinced ourselves that we are all ‘doing the right things’.  

Judgement is a weapon that cuts deeply, severing the bonds that, when intact, help us to recognize ourselves within our brother’s visage.  Once the divide, created through judgement, exists, we can rationalize away any cruelty.  That is the bane of the human experience.

There is another path… it doesn’t need to be this way.

The path beyond divisiveness begins as a treacherous path.  It requires every individual to step outside of the comfort of their own ‘ways’, and let go of their own sense of righteousness.  In relation to the goal of reconciliation between western and Indigenous ways, Indigenous leaders refer to ‘two-eyed seeing’.  This is about being able to view circumstances and events from both perspectives.  Two-eyed seeing is what is required.

Even those of us who’s experiences have required us to navigate between worlds struggle to adopt ‘two-eyed seeing’ because in many cases we’ve needed to shed our previous affiliations and identity in order to be successful in our transition into new social structures.  The drive to 'fit in' can be all-consuming as the alternatives are to retreat, giving up on dreams and goals, or forever 'live on the edge'. 

In my experience it is more common to disconnect from one's ancestral line and heritage than to try to live in harmony with the duality that being 'out of place' creates.  Those of us who transition either develop a sense of shame around our origins and hide our 'illegitimate' beginnings, outwardly despising where we came from and inwardly struggling to love and value ourselves; or we’ve rewritten our history, demonizing or omitting the aspects of our previous identity that weren’t a good fit for the ideals that existed in our new community leaving us with a shallow and superficial connection to ourselves.  Two-eyed seeing is an integration of two world views. It is about valuing each perspective and recognizing how each is valuable and worthy of consideration.  It is about bringing our full story into our outward identity with acceptance and pride.  In this way we move into our full potential to live in community.  

I use the term 'two-eyed seeing' to describe the state we need to achieve in order to move from division to integration as we navigate the demands of community.  There is only one path that allows us to understand the world from the eyes of another.  It is filled with occasions for stories to be told, open-hearted listening, empathy and shared experience.  I can not demand you conform to me.  You can not demand I conform to you. Together we must choose a new path that we both will walk down because it is true and right for us.  This is community.  This must be our goal.  When we can overcome our 'unwillingness to hear' our fellow community members, we will begin to walk the path.  When we prioritize the need for coming into community and can build community structures that invite the type of sharing that is needed, we will be on our way.

Monday, December 14, 2020

Lalouise

I first met her the summer she stayed with her moshum and kokum.  I knew them as Victor and Laura, our neighbors.  I always knew when Laura came for tea.  Her booming laugh that always ended in hacking and coughing echoed through our house.  Victor was quieter.  He would softly say his piece but we often found ourselves hanging on his words, waiting to hear the end of the story.  Sometimes he got lost in thought and it never came.  Victor and Laura were the vigilant eye in our community, forever sitting on their stoop smoking their roll-yer-own tobacco to the point we would forget they were there.  That is, until they spoke up to caution us against one crazy idea or another.  Or, informed our parents of the true course of events in one of those moments when chaos reigned and our little gang was at each other's throats.

Laura came by and after a short chat with my mom, introduced me.  They said she was older than me, but I couldn't tell.  I was no giant and she was even smaller than me, not just short, but I would say scrawny.  Arms so tiny her joints looked like knobs and her skin was as white as alabaster.  Her head looked giant on her tiny body, but as I reflected on her image more closely I realized I was seeing mostly hair.  She had this wild, curly hair that framed her head in a way it made her look like she had a halo when she was backlit by the sun.  It was her glasses though, that made her the subject of instant ridicule.  They were too large for her face and so thick that her eyes were magnified to 10 times their normal size.  So much so that the first reaction she received from most people was, 'Whoa, look at those glasses!'

She was with kokum for the summer.  Something had happened at home, but when I tried to listen, their voices got quiet and I only picked up a few words.  I heard hungry and neglected.  I saw their lips curl up in disgust, the soft ticking of tongues and the slow shaking of heads that comes with the unthinkable.  I didn't know anything else.

I knew I didn't like her mom and dad.  He was Harvey.  He was a large man.  His pants were always hanging so low they were falling off and his shirts were so tight across his belly, they gaped at the snaps, and pale white skin poured out.  He had a booming voice and eyes that leered.  Her mom was Dorothy.  She talked too fast and didn't seem to make a lot of sense.  She always looked frazzled, her dress was disheveled and her hair was always in a lopsided bun with strands hanging.  When they visited Laura would get loud and mean and we could hear fighting all the way up the block.

Her name was Lalouise.  She was a girl of few words.  Mom said she couldn't talk really well, that she was an only child and her mom and dad didn't pay much attention to her, she added, that she even suspected that Lalouise was locked in her closet sometimes, but her jaw was set in the way it gets when she doesn't approve of something and there was a knowing look in her eyes that told me she knew more than she was saying.

That day, Lalouise's first words she spoke to me were, 'hey, what do you have there?'.  She was referring to my Malibu barbie doll.  Half of my doll's blond hair was pulled out from the roots, and one foot had been chewed up by the dog, but she was my constant companion.  'She's Malibu Barbie', I informed Lalouise, 'do you want to see her swim?'  And we were off.

Malibu Barbie swam in a mudhole I had built under our deck.  It doubled as my cooking pot when I decided to make mud stew, but today it was perfectly arranged for a beach party.  My gutted Barbie Winnebago that dad had picked up from the garbage dump sat on the 'beach' and the cigarette box upholstered chair my aunt had made for me was set out for my brother's cast off GI Joe to enjoy the view.  I dunked Barbie in the muddy water to Lalouise's oohs and ahs.  Neither of us noticing the clumps of mud gathering in her hair, or the way that the muddy 'banks' of my pond were grinding dirt into the knees of our jeans.

I should have known more about Lalouise from all the time we spent together, my questions were unending.  She was evasive, though.  Mostly she responded with grunts and I came to know which ones were affirmative and which ones weren't.  Sometimes, when I would dig a bit too much she would get a look of panic on her face and make an excuse to leave.  I wouldn't see her for a few hours but she always came back.

It was tough to say we developed a friendship from there, Lalouise didn't talk enough for it to feel that way, but she was good at listening to my constant chatter, and I liked hanging with a girl for a change.  We played a lot that summer.  I would either show up at her kokum's door and invite her out, or she would show up at mine.  I let her into my imaginary world where the fence was  a balance beam and a blanket tossed on the ground was for our floor routine, as we competed in the Olympics.  Or maybe the blanket was for a picnic as we wrapped our cats in blankets and held them like babies as we had tea from a little china tea set with missing handles.

We had one disagreement that summer but it changed everything.  Looking back, I suspect that Lalouise made a mistake that wasn't a far stretch for a girl that had experienced what she had in life.  For me, it was unforgivable.  It was a cooler day, we were both wearing heavier coats.  I saw her out in the yard and decided to join her.  As I walked up I saw that she was holding something down and sitting on it.  As I neared it became clear that she had her little orange tabby under her, and she had all of her weight on him and her hands around his body, squeezing.  'What are you doing?', I  yelled, just before I launched myself in the air and tackled her off of him.  She was stunned as I grabbed her by the front of her jacket, looked in her eyes and said, 'you will kill him, you know!'  She was sheepish, but when I asked her why she was doing that, she had no answer.  I could see by the look in her eye that she was doing exactly what I imagined, and I had no doubt I saved her cat's life.  She just shrugged.  Everything changed between us after that.  She stopped coming by, and I don't even remember when she left her Kokum's and went back home.

The next time I saw her was in the school yard.  The year had just started and we were all getting used to a bigger school and more kids as we transitioned into Vera M. Welsh for grade 3 to 6 kids.  I heard her voice before I saw her.  She was yelling and angry, but I had to make my way through a mob of kids before I saw her.  She was lying on the hard packed ice-mud that we called a school field.  A bigger boy was standing over her and taunting her.  He called her a googly four-eyed monster and laughed.  Everyone around him was laughing and encouraging him on.  I stood, frozen in place for second, and then my eyes met with Lalouise's and I saw her pain and fear.  My heart was beating in my chest and panic rose in my throat as I quickly looked away and backed out of the crowd, leaving Lalouise to fend for herself. 

After that day I pretended I didn't know her, and she pretended she didn't know me.

Thursday, December 11, 2014

The Wayfinder

His gentle voice was filled with concern as he whispered
You've been on this lonely road too long
I can see the toll in your eyes
Only a promise of relief drives you on
I'm here to tell you, this exit will take you home.

She'd been holding on so long,
The words cut through her control.
As she touched his hand in gratitude,
Her body crumbled into a heap
And untapped emotions found their release.

Overcoming the urge to cloak her shame,
She lifted her gaze to meet his.
And his eyes held hers
Within a sea of warmth.

Assured by his words
And uplifted by his compassion,
An ember of hope flickered from within,
And she pushed onward.

As she disappeared into the distance
His memory strayed
To the one who had shown him the way,
And a single tear fell.













Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Finally My Time

Finally My Time

This is finally my time.
You don't need to come home.
I won't be waiting for you.
And this is for me.

I no longer hide my pain
It eats me from inside
No, I don't have words to explain
So much anger I can't hide
And I'm leaving you tomorrow.

Used to think you had more.
Once I felt love was just ahead.
But the crumbs you threw, they ate up my core
Now its hard not to feel dead.
Or fucked up in the head.

This is finally my time.
You don't need to come home.
I won't be waiting for you.
And this is for me.

At one time you had the key
And my heart sang with a touch
But you blocked who I could be
And didn't notice all that much
That my world kept falling in.

And, baby, it's the end...
No more asking for more time
Too much life hanging on the line,
Waiting, such a fools game I know well
Not enough of my life left to stand still.
And I'm leaving you tomorrow.

This is finally my time.
You don't need to come home.
I won't be waiting for you.
And this is for me.

This is finally my time.
You don't need to come home.
I won't be waiting for you.
And this is for me.

Sunday, February 19, 2012

The Greatest Love of All

Her voice invited angels
Her beauty defied words
Grace beyond her years
And life bursting from within.

Embraced for her gift
Revered for the love she shared
Uplifting the world
With soulful emotion.

A kernel of darkness
Lived in her soul.
Torment and pain
Overcame her joy.

A narcotic numbness
Helped her hide from the dark.
It eased her journey
But stole her light.

Some stars are born
To shine so brightly
Their intense light
Destroys them from within.

The remaining darkness
Casts shadows of sorrow
Reminding us of the brilliance
That once was.

       - A Tribute to Whitney Houston