Autumn Hollow

Sleep...beautiful sleep...

2012-02-08T09:15:00.000-08:00

“The best cure for insomnia is to get a lot of sleep.”

~W.C. Fields~

“A well spent day brings happy sleep.”

~Leonardo DaVinci~

It is no secret my problems with insomnia. Many nights have found me wandering the house like a ghost, haunting the various rooms or lying awake reading, writing or hanging out with the skunks on the front step gawping at the stars in the middle of a summer's night. It's not really a healthy way to be and I've noticed a whole bunch of people suffering the same problem over the last couple of years. So below I want to share with you an article I wrote for the Quantum Health Newsletter. If you are like me and your brain tells you that there are far better things to be doing in the wee hours, then you might be interested. You might be even more interested if it is someone you know that lies awake at night and acts like a mentally disturbed patient during the day as a result. Your life and their's might depend on it. So, without further adieu enjoy. And...sweet dreams!

Ah...Sleep!

There is not a single one of us that has not spent a restless or sleepless night at one time or another. We are largely creatures that are ruled by our emotional state. We suffer loss, pain, grief and, as every child who has ever awaited Father Christmas’ arrival, occasionally unbearable excitement and anticipation, all of which can cause us to lose a night of sleep. There is usually no lasting harm when these occasions occur and the only repercussion is a set of puffy, grainy eyes the next day.

It seems lately, though, that every time I look on Facebook or read someone’s blog there is someone complaining about a prolonged inability to sleep through the night. Why is that? Sleep is the blessed remedy for nearly all of the things that ail us. Both physical and psychological. Yet it is increasingly elusive to many and to others a necessary nuisance and a thing to be avoided whenever possible. I hear many excuses for lack of sleep: work, stress, play, anger. I’ve used many of them myself. Being a life-long insomniac , I know what it is to be lying awake at 4am staring at the back of my eyelids just praying for dawn so I can get on with things. Over the years I have cultivated different ways to deal with sleeplessness and, though I still occasionally have bouts of insomnia, I can and do sleep now. Once in awhile though, I envy those, such as my daughter, who can dream on blissfully through the night.

The average adult typically needs 7 to 9 hours of sleep every night to feel fully rested and refreshed and to be able to function at their best. There are exceptions to this rule (some need more and a few less) but in truth this is rare. While there are those that claim they can function and even thrive on as little as 4, 5 or 6 hours of sleep, it is simply not true. They may feel fine for awhile but damage, some of it severe, is being done.

A 2005 National Sleep Foundation poll found that we sleep an average of 6.9 hours per night, which is a drop of about 2 hours per night since the 19^th century. No one can say it is because we do more physical labour…the opposite is in fact true, our collective expanding girths being testament to this. A more likely reason(s) is that we experience far more hypnotic distractions, light pollution, an over-indulgence of stimulants (hello, Starbucks junkies) and an absolute overload of useless and negative information.

Humans are not very adept at perceiving within ourselves the extreme detrimental effects of sleep deprivation (SD). In tests where volunteers were restricted to less than 6 hours of sleep per night for 2 weeks, the volunteers noticed only a small increase in sleepiness and felt that they were functioning fairly normally. This may explain why we just don’t slow down and in fact push ourselves beyond the limits of our fatigue, even when we haven’t gotten sufficient sleep over a period of time. In fact, however, tests showed that the volunteer’s cognitive ability and reaction times progressively declined. By the end of the two week test period they were as impaired as those who had been awake continuously for 48 hours.

Researchers at the University of Chicago found that too little sleep changes the body’s secretion of some hormones, causing an increase in appetite and a reduction in the

sensation of feeling full at the end of a meal. Also, the body’s response to sugar intake changes significantly, increasing the potential to gain weight as well as increasing the risk of diabetes.

Studies are showing an alarming number of health problems that directly correlate with sleep deprivation. These include:

*an increase in aching muscles due to over-exertion

*confusion

*memory lapse or loss

*hallucinations

*hand tremors

*headaches/migraine

*sensitivity to temperature- specifically cold

*increased blood pressure

*heart disease

*increased stress hormones

*increased risk of diabetes

*increased risk of fibromyalgia

*extreme irritability

*aggressive behavior

*involuntary eye movement

*obesity

*temper tantrums

*panic attacks

*bipolar behavior

*ADHD type symptoms

*increased paranoia and psychosis

SD affects the brain in an alarming manner. A study at Chicago Medical Institute suggested that SD is linked to mental illness such as bipolar disorder and psychosis. A further test showed that SD was revealed to cause the brain to become incapable of putting an emotional event into proper perspective and it is then incapable of making a controlled, suitable response to the event.

Another study showed the negative effects of sleep deprivation on alertness. Cognitive performance tests suggest a decrease in brain activity and function, primarily in the thalamus- the brain structure involved in alertness and attention, as well as in the prefrontal cortex where higher order cognition is processed.

The effects of SD on the body’s healing process is also compromised.

Perhaps the most alarming effects of SD on the brain are those that change or decrease attention and working memory. The lesser effects of these can cause problems such as forgetting an ingredient when cooking or missing sentences when taking notes. It is the more critical attention lapses that we must sit up and truly pay attention to because life or death can literally hang in the balance in these circumstances for not just the sufferer of SD but for others as well. What is perhaps the most critical problem in these cases is that the individual’s subjective evaluations of their own fatigue do not reflect what is in fact happening in the brain. Chronically sleep deprived individuals tend to rate themselves as considerably less impaired than totally sleep deprived people. Since people tend to evaluate their capability in tasks such as driving, subjectively, their evaluations may lead them to the false conclusion that they are performing these tasks safely when in fact the opposite is true.

One of the greatest dangers of sleep deprivation is on the road (or in the operation of any vehicle as demonstrated by a recent deadly plane crash where a pilot was sleep deprived). The American Academy of Sleep Medicine reports that 1 in every 5 serious motor vehicle injuries is related to driver fatigue. 80,000 drivers fall asleep behind the wheel every day and 250,000 accidents every year are related to sleep. According to a study in the British Journal of Medicine, sleep deprivation has the same hazardous effects as being drunk. People who drove after being awake for 17 – 19 hours performed worse than those with a blood alcohol level of 0.05 (the legal limit in most of Western Europe and Australia). Drivers performance begins to decline after 16 hours awake. 21 hours awake was equivalent to a blood alcohol level of 0.08 (the legal limit in Canada, the US and the UK).

The national Sleep Foundation identifies several warning signs that a driver is dangerously fatigued including rolling down the window, turning up the radio, trouble keeping eyes open, head nodding, drifting out of the lane and daydreaming.

Microsleeps occur when a person has significant SD. The brain automatically shuts down without the subject being aware that this is happening. The microsleep state lasts for 1 second to half a minute – more than enough time for deadly consequences to occur – and happen no matter what task or activity the subject is engaged in. SD causes roughly 71,000 injuries each year and nearly 2000 fatalities.

This all sounds pretty dire, but there is hope. If you follow a few guidelines, you can hopefully turn things around, if you are an insomniac, before it is too late.

Let’s Get Some Sleep…

Sleep is one of the most deeply healing gifts that we can give ourselves, yet we tend to have a whole lot working against us. The following are some strongly suggested guidelines to help you to get a good night’s sleep every night. It does require some adjustments and an attitude of wanting to change, but with a little effort, we can have you snoozing like a baby in no time.

It is untrue that silence will automatically help you to sleep. When tested in complete silence, many subjects found that they were able to sleep even less. This is because most humans never experience complete quiet. Even in the womb we are surrounded by the noises we hear going on in Mom’s life as well as her steadily beating heart and circulatory system from the moment of conception. With this in mind, experts recommend adding a white noise machine to your bedroom. Many people find this will subtly drown out outside noise while giving that same comforting essence we experience before we emerged into the world.

Pay attention to the temperature and humidity of the room. The temperature should be about 16 degrees C. Humidity should be balanced for maximum comfort with either a humidifier or de-humidifier if necessary.

You may need to change mattresses. This can be key. If your mattress is lumpy, too hard or too soft, you will be experiencing unnecessary pain, discomfort and restlessness as you toss and turn trying to find a comfortable position. This applies to pillows as well. I prefer a heavier comforter and like the weight on my body, even in the summer. Others may feel opposite. If this is the case, the temperature may need to be adjusted slightly.

Never eat anything less than 4 hours before bedtime. Eating will jumpstart your metabolism, sending your blood sugars soaring and telling your body that you have energy to burn. Not something you want to experience at bedtime.

Drinking less than an hour before bedtime is also not a good idea, with the exception of that old remedy for sleeplessness, warm milk. More on that in a minute. Drinking before bed will inevitably wake you during the night for trips to the bathroom. This can be enough to switch off the sleep vibe and send your body the signal that it’s time to be up. Along those lines, all caffeine should be stopped at least 6 hours before bed. If you are an insomniac or having temporary trouble sleeping, it is best to eliminate caffeine altogether except 1 cup in the morning.

If you are feeling tense you can try giving yourself a massage over the neck and shoulders or have your partner help you with this. They may be more than happy to help, since it is more likely than not that your insomnia is causing them to have significant sleep deprivation too. WARNING: If you receive a massage from your partner, you may be required to reciprocate.

Also, do not exercise before bed as this will not tire you, it will energize you and do not nap after 4pm.

So now you know what not to do. What are some things that you can proactively do to turn things around? First and foremost it is important that you maintain a regular sleep schedule. Go to bed at the same time every night and get up in the morning at the same time, even if you don’t have to. Remember, what we are trying to do here is reset your circadian rhythms and it might take a few months to do so. This is imperative!

Regular exercise on a daily basis is important, though remember, not before bed!

Here is where some work might need to be done. The bedroom is not an entertainment centre, nor is it an office space. For those who have no trouble sleeping, this isn’t a problem. For those who do, the bedroom should be a place for sleep and sexual activity only. Heavy drapes or dark blinds should be added to all windows. Even if you have a sleep mask, light still tends to penetrate. Keep your room as dark and cocooned as possible. Keep the room uncluttered and don’t use a clock with a light on it. Insulate the room from sound as much as you can and add a white noise machine. Earplugs can help too, but some people find them uncomfortable. Plus, you don’t want to miss the sound of the fire alarm.

About an hour before bed, let go of the worries of the day. I’ve had to teach myself that there is absolutely nothing that is going to change by worrying at a problem. In fact, sleep will make you more alert, will make your brain a more efficient problem solving entity, and will help adjust your attitude to a more positive level. One trick I have learned is to choose a favourite book that I have read already. It takes my mind off of the day without putting me into a state of wondering what’s gong to happen next in the book. It’s a little like chatting with an old friend before drifting off. (Don’t go picking up your favourite Stephen King or thriller. This is not conducive to a restful night!)

A good stretch before getting into bed is a wonderful feeling too. I like to wear a pair of socks to bed…I can’t sleep if my feet are even a little cold.

Try, as you settle in, to give thanks for the things you have. It doesn’t have to be to ‘God’ if you are not spiritually inclined. But it serves as a mantra to the Universe that you are aware of the gifts that have been given to you and that you are grateful. Repeat “I give thanks for __________. I give thanks for _________. I often drift off to this litany of gratitude.

If you do awaken in the night, try for no more than 15 minutes to just fall back asleep. Try deep breathing – breath in to the count of 4 slowly, hold it for 4, release your breath to the count of 4 and again hold for the count of 4. Repeat. Just focus on your breath, not on sleep. If you are still awake, pick up that boring old book. This works for me 9 times out of 10. Just make sure the light is very dim. A book light is a great investment since you cannot see the rest of the room. Have a nightlight in the bathroom so that you don’t have to turn on a large light if you do get up to relieve yourself.

It is important not to watch tv or sit at the computer waking up your brain if you are awake in the night. This serves no purpose other than to continue the cycle.

Recipes for sleep:

I don’t like to recommend tea before bed as it does tend to fill the bladder through the night, even if it is a sleepy-time herb. That being said, one of my favourite sleep inducers is the following recipe about a half hour before bed:

1 cup milk (soy, etc can also be used)

2 Chamomile teabags – I actually like the Chamomile Lavender blend from Traditional Medicinals available at Superstore or through their website at;

http://www.traditionalmedicinals.com/us_products

1 tsp unpasteurized honey.

Start the milk simmering in a saucepan. Add the teabags and bring the milk almost to a boil. (there should be bubbles around the edge)

Remove the teabags with a spoon and add the honey. Sip slowly, sitting quietly under a favourite comforter.

The same recipe can be followed using either passion flower or hops instead of the chamomile.

Valerian capsules or tea are very effective sleep aids. Follow the directions on the bottle. This should be taken nightly. Herbs are much gentler than chemical drugs and can take time to be noticeably effective. They work holistically on the entire body rather than just working on a symptom.

Look to your diet as well. Eliminate spicy foods that can upset the digestive system. Wholesome, mild foods are best here.

I advise people to avoid chemical drugs that induce sleep, especially self prescribed or over the counter medication. These products can easily be abused without intention to do so, can tend to be addictive and they do not give the body a true sleep. It is more like being in a coma, which is not truly restful.

99% of the time, sleeplessness can be altered with a change in lifestyle and some wholesome remedies that will not cause further harm to the body. We have a fabulous gift in our bodies and they, with love and deep care, have a tremendous capacity for repairing and healing themselves if given the proper tools. However, they can take some work if they have been abused. If you are having trouble sleeping, give yourself and those around you the gift of healing. You will be amazed at how Grandma was right. Sleep on it. Things will look better in the morning!

What's on the menu: Last night's noodle soup & toast

Listening to: Celtic Mix 1 CD

Reading: 'Morphic Resonance' by Rupert Sheldrake

Viewing: Jamie Oliver's Food Escapes

Goals: Research for new article

PS: If you haven't gotten the chance to watch our new video, check it out at:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=34PoYdmRX4E

New Video

2012-02-04T06:30:00.000-08:00

I just wanted to leave a quick message to let you know that we have posted a new video on Youtube. Now you can see for yourself that Chester is doing great (and maybe why!). It was great fun putting it together and I think Twyla has a real gift for film editing.

Right now we're just enjoying the lovely weather and working on all kinds of new projects. I have a new proper blog coming this week so stay tuned. In the meantime, get your behinds out there and enjoy these beautiful days under the sun.

The link to the video is:

http://youtu.be/34PoYdmRX4E

If you like it let us know!

So, I'll talk to you in a few days. Take care until then.

Winter Sorrow

2012-01-18T17:06:00.000-08:00

I wanted to post a quick blog because I was reminded today of how fragile life is. We all think that we don't need reminding but we do. My niece, Koral lost a friend to the icy winter roads. I didn't know her and I think Koral knew her through her friend, Tay. All I know about her is her name, Melissa. She was 14 and played soccer. I don't know the colour of her hair or the music she liked or if she had a crush on anyone. All I know is that she wanted to live and see Spring come again, and Summer after that.
She was driving with her daddy and the passenger side of the car where she rode was demolished in the collision. I know she left a mom to suffer forever and one or two sisters who will always grieve. Probably many, many more. I want to ask you to lift up a prayer, however it is you pray to whomever it is that you pray to. Say a prayer of thanks that you are with your loved ones tonight and that they are all safe. Say a prayer of passage for a little girl who had to cross over far too soon and leave behind lives that will never be the same. Say a prayer that her daddy will make it so that there is one more tree in her family's forest to withstand the long winter that is that is ahead. We don't need to sink ourselves in sorrow because we all have much to be joyful about tonight. But surely we can spare a prayer for this little girl, her family and her friends left behind.
Thanks guys.
Many Blessings.
Autumn

Winter's Arrival

2012-01-15T07:25:00.000-08:00

There is finally a soft blanket of white on the ground. It is a thin blanket, to be sure, but long overdue. When my sister-in-law, Patrina, Twyla and I walked into the Y yesterday so they could take my nephews swimming (I do not partake), it was a grey day but not so terrible. One hour later, as we bundled the little ones to leave, a right howling blizzard had begun. By the time we were driving back home last night at about 10:00, it was a fright. In fact, it could have turned very bad as the car in front of us began to spin uncontrollably while at the same time figure-eighting back and forth in front of us. We barely missed them as they frantically tried to get the car under control, pulling to the side as we slid by them. If another vehicle had been involved, one of those brainless idiots in a pickup truck who thinks they are invincible (invincible ignoramuses), it would not have gone well and I likely would not be writing this now. For our safe return home, I am so very grateful. Please be careful. There is no place you need to be so badly that you have to risk your life or anyone else's to get there. A truck, no matter its size, does not grant you super powers. Pass it on.
Chester had his check up this week. He's doing great, though his doctor looked a little run down and tired. She 'felt' funny and didn't seem herself. Hmmm...
I guess Happy New Year is in order. For us the holiday season was quiet. Didn't do a lot of visiting. The New Year was brought in with a little champagne and some really nice chocolate cake at home and the hope that all was well with everyone.
Can I tackle the bitter moaning about the snow? Please cut it out. We have had it pretty warm for close to a couple of months now with temperatures way above seasonal normals. We have had next to no snow and as a result we've had to put up with a sheet of ice on the ground instead, making walking (and driving) a nighmare. I am the first one to admit that I am not very happy with the idea of minus 33 coming up this week, but fer crissakes, you're Canadians. We laugh in the face of this kind of thing. Put your game face on, joke about it a bit and shut up. What I do fear for is the animals out there that are going to suffer while we are safe and warm in our centrally heated homes. We have a number of kittens (young adults now) in the basement that we've managed to trap. They are brought in cold, skeletal and fearful. These are just the ones we can catch. They have been dumped here because it is a dead end or their owners just don't care enough to keep them inside and they wander off. There are others I've caught glimpses of. They are too fearful to let me get near. But no worries. This cold snap will take care of them once and for all. And there's always more where they came from, right. Then there are the jackasses who chain up their dogs outside with no care for their suffering. If you can't keep your pet inside, especially when this kind of temperature hits, then you do not need to own an animal. And while we are at it, whenever you begin to complain about the cold, think of the many homeless people who will be huddling in doorways to try to keep warm the next few nights. Try to keep things in perspective.
I have been interested in just how many people think that the end of either the world or the world as we know it will be arriving shortly. There's the Mayan thing and the Niburu (sp) thing and the Elinin thing...comets and planets and calendars, oh my! But then a friend of mine, who runs the archery department of a sporting goods store told me that people have been coming in looking for weapons that are good to use on zombies. They actually think that a Zombie Apocalypse is or shortly will be upon us. ~pause in silent thinking for a moment~
Yes. I said zombies. Now, I'm not saying I think with utter conviction that all of the above stuff is bullshite. I don't know. I am of the mind that not much is actually impossible. But ZOMBIES? How are we going to get zombies? Twyla told me there's some theory about how the rabies virus will somehow become airborn and that will do it. I've seen a few animals with rabies and they just look really sick. I never heard of one of them trying to get at your brain for a light snack. I will re-iterate what has always been my stance. Things could go south, there's no doubt (all zombies aside). We could experience a solar flare that knocks out the grid or a super volcano or some other thing that makes us an immediate endangered species, because we can barely get along now, never mind if a lot of us are starving. I'm guessing that bad manners will win the day. People tell me things like "oh, solar flares have always happened and the world didn't end." What I say to them is that, I don't think the actual world will end, but if the grid were somehow knocked out, our world certainly would. How many things can you do without electricity. I imagine that without that furnace in your basement, you wouldn't do any better than those poor abandoned animals out there in the cold. For one thing, you have no fur. There is a certain sense in being prepared for whatever emergency might take place. Here's a fer-instance. What do you have in your vehicle for an emergency? Probably a spare, maybe a flare or two. Maybe even a snack. How's that going to work out of you are stuck on the side of the road with no help in this kind of cold? I can answer that right now. It's not. Here's a little run-down of what we have in the car. It's all kept in a tote bag: candles, matches, lighter; socks, mittens and hats; energy bars; blankets; emergency heater (this consists of a medium coffee can inside a larger one. Inside the smaller can is a roll of toilet paper with the tube removed. In the tin is also a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a set of matches. In case of an emergency, the cans are set up one inside the other, the paper roll is saturated with the alcohol and can be lit to provide heat. It will burn quite a long time.); we also have a power pack that can be used to plug in the battery or phone chargers if necessary; radio; multitool; knife; first aid kit (this is quite extensive, put together myself. I don't think those pitiful little kits you get at Canadian Tire are much use at all); first aid manual; rope; several large garbage bags. There is a bit more that I can't think of right now, but you get the picture. I also want to add a tarp and a couple of those self light logs. They store under the seat and take up almost no room. We also keep a bottle of water in there that is changed regularly. In winter, I make sure that everyone has or brings along boots and a parka, even if what you are actually wearing is lighter or dressier. You'll look stupid trying to change a tire in dress shoes and a trench coat in the midst of a blizzard or even just a cold day. We've never had to use most of the stuff but I will sure be grateful to have it if we ever do.
The same goes for being prepared wherever you go and however you get there.
It may (and likely will) come to pass that the most interesting thing to take place this December is The Hobbit: Pt 1. If on the off chance things get icky...does it hurt to be a little prepared? I look at it this way. There's a lot of people out there who are capable of a lot of mischief. And there's a lot of pretty shaky climate stuff happening. Just, you know, try to be a bit of a forward thinker is all. Spend less time complaining and more time going "If I don't have power for a couple of days when it's -32 outside, what can I do about that?"
I have a lot of yuck chores to do outside today so I'd better get started. You guys keep warm, stay safe, put some food out for the birds and animals having a hard time right now. Make a nice pot of cocoa this evening, make a fire if you can. Then sit and gaze into the flame (a candle will do) and dream about the spring to come. It's really not so far off. And remember...wherever you go, take your toque and mittens!
What's on the menu: Mushroom soup and sammiches
Listening to: Best of Enya
Reading: Resurrecting Michelangelo
Goals: Above mentioned yuck chores
Viewing tonight: Star Trek Next Gen

Merry Christmas...Joyous Yule

2011-12-18T06:46:00.000-08:00

Hello. Sorry for being such a stranger. Time, as I'm sure you understand, just tends to get away from you sometimes. Actually, the older I get, the more slippery time seems to be. Sort of like trying to catch a well-oiled fish.
Chester's update first. He is doing very well, still in remission. I once again urge you to support ACTSS. Without them we would not have our little man with us. He passed his year mark at the end of November and rules the house with an iron fist. At least in his own mind he does. He seems to spend a lot of time hauling around a stuffed toy puppy, eternally looking for the perfect place to bury it. I actually found it in a corner "buried" under a sock and an electric cord. I'm sure in Chester's mind it was a mighty mountain of soil deep in the woods. I've found it in the wood bin, under blankets and pillows and jammed into every crook and cranny imaginable. He then guards the thing fiercely until he forgets what he's doing and moves on to the tennis ball or the puck.
I think one of the reasons that I haven't just sat down to write something is that I don't know where to start any more. I always have something to say (as those of you who are connected to me on Facebook know;-). I suppose I sometimes feel that there is little point in preaching to the choir. All you have to do is look around you to see that we are on a path of no turning back now. I am having a harder time than usual this Christmas, not because I don't like the season. I do. I love decorating the house. I love giving gifts to people that I care about. I just, as so many people do, hate the awful greed and frenzied corporate monsters out there trying to convince you that you are not a good parent/spouse/friend if you don't get out and purchase incredibly expensive stuff for your loved ones. As if only money will show how much you care. And it does translate to people's expectations of what they should be given. I know family members and friends who would (and have) looked at me like I'm some sort of cheap-assed loser when I've given them something that I've made. It doesn't seem to occur to them that others pay me for the same thing to give to their loved ones. It's effed up.
So here we are at the end of 2011. We, as a planet have not slowed climate change...we have seemingly done everything in our power to accelerate it. There are still the not-smarts out there saying "DUH...this has always happened...this climate thing...". We've got a power-hungry lunatic running the country. We've got almost no snow and above zero temperatures (mmhmm...very normal). We've been occupied. We've been Arab-Springed. We are truly in a pickle and I'm pretty sure that no one really listens to my input about it and if they do they either want to argue about it or do nothing that means they have to get up off their lazy asses and change.
So instead, some little bits and pieces that made me think and or smile since last I wrote:
My nephew, Joey, who is 7 has never been out here. I don't think he's ever been outside the city. I hate that but I don't drive and my brother doesn't drive. So Twyla and I decided to make him a little video of "Auntie's House at Christmas". We took him on the grand tour, showing him the kitchen where I talk to him on the phone every morning, the lights and the Christmas tree with presents underneath. He even got to kiss Twyla under the mistletoe! We showed him the animals and he got to see Twyla's room. At the end of it...(Jim called me so Joey could have me on the phone as he watched the neat video he got in the mail!)...he gets on the phone. He goes "Auntie Paula? I think you are the luckiest person in the whole Universe!"
I think he feels I live at the North Pole with Father Christmas, himself, or maybe in Disneyland. When I can make the little guy smile like that, I feel like I am the luckiest person in the Universe.
Twyla is becoming quite the harpist. Her teacher seems to think she shows promise. Like I needed to be told that. She just finished up her anatomy/physiology course and starts her Nutrition 1 course in the new year.
We attended a funeral on Friday for one of Brad's family members. I don't feel comfortable talking about the deceased (this one anyway) but I have to tell you it was the strangest funeral I have ever attended...and I've attended a few. It was just really sort of cold and impersonal and the pastor/preacher or whatever he was seemed more like a game show host than a person with a link to the hereafter or a line on talking to the bereaved. All he did was read bad poems out of what I am sure are pilfered Hallmark cards. I mean...my dad, who by all accounts was not the most likable guy, had bagpipes and kilts and bells and tears and a passionate priest (who had never met my dad) and flowers and standing salutes and speeches. Nobody was picking lint or farting around with a cell phone during the thing, I'll tell you that. Just...really surreal. I dragged Brad and Twyla out the second I could do so without looking crass and rude. It felt like people were just so disconnected that even a funeral was just something to hurry through. WTF.
The rest of our time has been spent figuring out the new website, which I hope you take the time to visit (the www.theraggedrose.com.) Figuring out what direction to take with it. If you love this blog so much that you just can't get enough (there's obviously some tongue-in-cheek there kids) there is another blog linked to the website. It mostly updates what we are working on for The Ragged Rose.
I am looking forward to New Year's Eve with some trepidation. The whole getting older thing is a bit of a pill, ya know. Twyla is going to make me a super-terrific birthday dinner and I think we'll likely go to the movies on New Year's Day. Not much for partying these days and I have absolutely no time for drunks. Whenever I smell booze on somebody it makes me want to slap them and tell them they stink. It literally makes me nauseous...the smell and the behaviour. Nothing like a swaying, glassy-eyed eejit laughing at their own cleverness and 'loooooooving' you soooooo much. 'Tis the season, I guess.
Today, book work, paper work. All the fun stuff. It's one week to Christmas so it will be a super busy week with business parties and shopping and maybe a bit of visiting. I hope that all of you reading this have a lovely and peaceful holiday, whatever holiday you celebrate, even if it's only the celebration of the light returning after the 21st. I'll be thinking of you all, those I've loved and cared for in the long distant past, the present and I will be looking forward to our meetings in the coming year(s). Many bright blessings to you all with our love to each and every one. Stay safe, keep your silly ass out of the car if you are going to have even one drink and be a do-gooder! Give something to the food bank and Santas Anonymous, even if you don't celebrate the season yourself. I guarantee you there are those worse off than you who do not deserve to be.

What's on the menu: Homemade macaroni and cheese with broccoli
Reading: The Earthwise Herbal
Goals: Work on website updates
Music: UP 99.3 Christmas music
Viewing: A Christmas Carol (with Patrick Stewart...my favourite)

A little advice for those in need

2011-09-18T07:45:00.000-07:00

I was just outside this morning scraping frost from the windscreen of the car. I love mornings like this. The colours are just starting to glow. It would seem that winter isn't quite here yet though. The forecast says there's some heat coming later in the week. I suppose that's good news for those who enjoy the heat. I am not one of those people. I don't like it freezing. But I love the crispness of fall.

Chester is great. He is quite the fuzzy black fur-ball now. He's as grouchy as ever. His checkup was terrific at the beginning of this month. He is such a little blessing. Twyla not so much today. She's spent the last couple of days sacked out with a pretty wicked cold. The usual sore throat, snuffly nose and a general sense of misery. Send some healing energy her way please!

Now, as I'm sure you are burning with anticipation about what I'm going to grump about, without further adieu...

Over the last little while I have taken the opportunity to allow myself some interesting observations. I've talked about this a little bit previously, but it came up again when a friend and one of Brad's Tai Chi students passed away about a month ago. He was taken by cancer, or rather an infection that he was unable to survive due to a weakened immune system from the treatment. It was very fast and terribly sad. Brian always had a smile and a laugh. Here is where I became a little taken aback. And perhaps my stone wall had a few chinks in it after that, but I started really noticing just how vile and rude people have become in general. I began thinking about manners...just the really common stuff. I wondered how I, with the upbringing I had to endure, managed to escape my childhood with a working sense of manners and others who probably never even met my parents became worse than animals in a zoo. How is that? I thought, well, maybe it's just that they don't know. So I'm going to give some advice. Some of it will seem obvious to you and maybe some of you may have noticed or experienced the same things. You are welcome to pass this crash course in the obvious on to anyone you feel needs it.

I'm going to start with what started it all for me. The passing of dear Brian and my experiences when telling people.
*When someone you know tells you that they have just lost (this means they died) a friend or a loved one do not be dismissive as though you just can't fathom why they'd be so upset. Don't change the subject. Don't be a wise ass. Don't say "yeah, my ______ died two years ago. I know how you feel (the comparisons can come later. At that moment, their loss is far too raw and new). Let me tell you something. It means absolutely nothing that you feel uncomfortable. It is about that person and their loss in that moment. This is really a time for you to shine and say "I am so terribly sorry. You have my deepest condolences. Is there anything at all that I can do?" You may then choose to offer a hug, a coffee ("do you want to go for coffee or tea and talk about it?"). You can tell them how sorry you are and listen to them talk about the person who has passed on. You can ask how the family is. It doesn't matter if you know them or not. No one in this situation wants to hear some slimy glib remark or quip and they definitely don't want to be dismissed and they will be left feeling very alone indeed if you are dismissive. If it is your own policy to deal with a loss with humour or a 'cest la vie' attitude, do not ever assume it is what someone else needs. If you notice distance after this behaviour, you will know why. You were a disrespectful lout.

*On to the next. If you say you are going to do something, do it. If you find that you cannot, then say you are unable to do it. Don't just tell someone you will do something and then pretend to forget it. I can guarantee you that they did not forget it and anything you say you will do in the future will be met with disbelief or derision.

*To the girls out there (I have seen this happen MANY times) if you make plans with a friend, don't cancel over some guy. I don't know how guys are with this, maybe they have different rules so I can't speak for them. But when you cancel with a friend because some random guy asked you out, that is a real slap in the face. Conversely, if there is someone you make plans with only as a last resort and then cancel because you found something better to do, get over yourself. They know what you are doing and you hurt them every time.

*This is a big one for me. Hygiene people. Wash your hands, wear deodorant, do all the things that make it reasonably easy for other people to be in a room with you. There are times when you pass someone in the canned tuna isle and it's all you can do to get the hell out of there at a run. Everybody eats something with garlic in it and then that's it. No amount of brushing can help you. That's not what I'm talking about. It is the idea of smelling like a guy that's worked in the fields all day every day without a bath circa 1876 (you know...when there was no deodorant or soap really handy) and being okay with going out in public like that that is unfathomable to me. Manners are about making the people you are with, the people you care about, present friends and even future ones, as comfortable as possible. Having to hold your breath while you are in someone's presence is not conducive to comfort. Change your damn socks before you go visiting, for gawdsakes.

*Plain old please and thank you and excuse me. This is a real pet peeve of mine. The following words do not equal thank you: "kay", "okay", "good" and definitely not silence. Please seems to be a forgotten word altogether. And the art of shoving by, pushing in or brushing past is apparently the normal thing to do. There is a lot to be said for those who thank you when you hold the door for them. They make your day. I always make it a point to thank someone who has done this for me. Always. It doesn't matter what kind of day I am having. That person took the time to be courteous and it is your obligation to acknowledge that. Saying thank you when you are given something or someone does something for you is a means by which you convey that you are appreciative of their effort. You would be amazed at the service you receive when you don't treat people as though they are servants. No one wants to be treated this way. If you use basic manners and even a smile, you can change the entire day for another person. Along the same lines, if you go out of your way to help, say, a mother or senior struggling with a buggy or stroller, trying to get a door open and they give you a harried thank you, you have made their day just a little easier and they have showed you that your effort was worth it. It could change a lot of things that you will never know about. All you will have is the satisfaction of knowing that you were a courteous person that day.

*Don't talk about your sex life or delicate health or personal matters with strangers. Believe me, they don't want to hear it . It is hard to not have a horrified look on your face when the person you just met in line begins to tell you about their...er...weeping tiles. I don't know if a lot of you experience this, but it happens to me all the time. I'm not sure what people think I can do about their...clogged drain...but I assure you, strangers in the line do not want to know about your plumbing issues.

*Please feel free to turn down the music in your vehicle. I don't know about anyone else, but having to sit through a three year long red light while some idiot next to me in a jumbo pick-up truck is doing his best to blow my windows out with his sub-woofers is like torture. Music is a very universal thing. There are not very many people who do not like music. But you can't assume that everyone appreciates the same stuff that makes your spirit soar. Said sub-woofers banging out some hip-hop hideosity is enough to make me go postal. I hate it. Same with in-car stuff. I was recently tortured all the way home while Brad listened to loud vintage Tina Turner, whose voice is like nails on a chalkboard to me (I like her eighties stuff...Thunderdome!). He thinks the vintage stuff is a cross between Diana Ross and Janis Joplin. I like Diana Ross but there are maybe three songs by Janis Joplin that I can stomach. The rest is just racket to me. I respect your appreciation of it. I feel it is just rude to force me to listen to it. Jazz is another genre that I cannot stand. I just can't, while at the same time Brad hates country music. I choose not to torture him with twanging guitars and Texas fiddle music out of respect. He chooses that no amount of torture is too great if he gets a new cd from the library and can't wait until I am not present. But know this. While I may have sat quietly whilst Tina screeched, the thoughts going through my head were of the postal sort. I can only imagine that most people feel the same. Along those lines, nobody wants to having music blaring in a restaurant while they eat. If you work in an eating establishment, turn down the volume!

*Don't assume that the person you are talking to doesn't know about something. I've come across several instances in the last little while, both my own and sitting in on others, where some person gets to talking about their "area of expertise" and just automatically came to the conclusion that no one else knows anything about the subject. As a result, anyone trying to say anything about the thing, even if they knew more than the 'expert' was instantly shut down. You can never know everything about a subject. I like to think that there is always something I can learn. And discussion does not mean argument. On the reverse side of this, playing the Devil's Advocate is just playing games. If you want to argue for the sake of arguing, don't.

And now some general advice on courtesy and common sense:

-Always give the courtesy wave when driving. If someone lets you in, say thank you.

-Always leave your number when leaving a phone message.

-Chew with your mouth closed.

-ALWAYS wash your hands before you eat or prepare food.

-Tell company appropriate stories. Always!

-Never tell racial jokes. They are not funny and they are not okay.

-Don't make out in public. It is disgusting. I'm not talking about a peck or holding hands. I'm talking about sliming someone in a public place. The exception might be a wife meeting her husband at the airport when he returns from Afghanistan. Keep the rest private please. And while we're along those lines, you really don't need to be clutching the ass of your girlfriend/boyfriend as you walk along in public. If you have those kinds of ownership issues, you should be getting help.

-Guys: Your little friend has not disappeared. You don't need to check it every five seconds. No diddling in public please!

-Don't spit on the sidewalk. It is disgusting, rude and vile. The only people who need to spit are farmers...which you would understand if you've ever spent time in a cow barn and left with the taste in your mouth. Keep your hanky handy if you feel the need to expel.

-As a matter of fact you do not have any rights as a smoker. Not to be inside. Not to be in a doorway. Take your cancer stick and go. Far away ...so those of us caring about our health and that of our children do not have to share in your slow suicide.

I'm sure that each of you has your own list of lost manners and confounding behaviour. You've all had experiences in private and in public where another person made you gape in wonder at the level of their rudeness or audacity. This is no a comprehensive list. It is just a small group of my own summer experiences. There is no crime in behaving like a lady or a gentleman...meaning you don't go out of your way to do whatever the hell you want and to hell with other people. Put yourself in another person's place. Would you want to be spat at as you walk by? Would you want someone pushing past you? Would you want to sit across from someone who chewed with an open mouth? Or have your child have to walk through a cloud of smoke in a doorway? Of course not. What is behaving like a lady or a gentleman? It is having manners. It is showing compassion, respect, kindness and empathy towards others. It is making the person you are with feel comfortable to be around you. It is helping someone without being asked to do so. It is using common sense in your behavior.

You don't have to wear an ascot, kid gloves or a high collar (unless, of course, you want to). But you could at least try to behave in a manner that shows that we are not the ill mannered, rude, selfish and disgusting species that we appear to be these days. After all, we don't want to be caught picking our noses when the ships land and the Visitors arrive. How awkward would that be?

What's on the menu: Some sort of soup

Listening to: Twyla watching the X Files

Reading: 'Torment' by Lauren Kate

Viewing; Buffy (the series)

Goals: Serving sick Chickie

Oh the past, the past...

2011-07-29T09:09:00.000-07:00

Before we go any further into my most recent brain meanderings, a little update on Chester's Journey. Our boy was asked to be one of the stars of the 2012 ACTSS calendar. This is the wonderful society that has assisted in financing Chester's (and many other fur kid's) chemo treatments. I'm not sure yet what month he will be but we took him to the photographer yesterday to do his "photo shoot". He was great...wanted to kill her toy horsie. I implore you to please purchase one (or five) of their calendars when it comes out. It has given us the gift of the boy's life and that has been so precious to us. These people, especially Dr. Stelfox, have been heroes! There is actually a story in the Examiner about Doc Stelfox and ACTSS this week. I have a few copies if anyone wants one. I'll let you know when the calendar comes out. Chester and his story will be in there. And let me tell you, he looks pretty danged handsome. Got a bath for the occassion and everything.

What I want to talk about today has had me thinking for some time. I've written various pieces over the years about this subject and I find it still confounds me...perhaps more than ever. It's..."The Past". I know so many people who are absolutely wigged out about the past...either their own or the distant past. I'm going to give you a number of examples that I want to look at. I have belonged or worked with several groups who are re enactors. I get that. It's fun to pretend. History is amazing. It is what has made us who we are. We can only know the tiniest fraction of what the distant past was like and what actually happened. Our ideas and theories are constantly being challenged and revised because a new piece of information comes about and forces us to re-examine everything we believed. I'm going to give you a couple of examples of that. The first is the idea that the general public has about Cleopatra, the last Egyptian Pharaoh, and one of only a very small number of known female Pharaohs. There is this myth about Cleopatra that has her as a great beauty and seductress. The Roman version of history (which, by the way, is always suspect) has her as thus. We do know she was quite young in our understanding of the word. We do know she had a penchant to be ruthless (it is believed she had her brother, a competetor for the throne killed). But the truth about Cleopatra is quite different than the portrayal given by Liz. She was hardly a great beauty and she was hardly a brainless bimbo. She was a brilliant statesman and leader who, like so many before and after, fell to Rome's greed.

Another more personal example is through my own research. In the eighties, when I first began teaching, there was a wide-spread belief that there was a time in prehistory that was ruled by matriarchal societies. They were believed to be peaceful, egalitarian societies that were eventually destroyed by violent patriarchal groups. The matriarchal societies worshipped a Mother Goddess and Her horned consort and it came to be known as the Old Religion. There was, of course a great deal of nonsense that was built up along with it but that's it in a very brief nutshell. Along came the nineties and researchers who set out to set the record straight. Much of the Mother Goddess idealism came from an anhropologist named Marija Gimbutas. She wrote such seminal texts as 'The Goddesses and Gods of Old Europe'. There were many who were enthralled by this information, including myself. This idea that our history went much further back than previously acknowledged. But there were certainly people who didn't agree with this theory and they wrote quite a lot of very well researched information which I felt was my obligation to pay attention to. And they were right. Ms. Gimbutas and many others had seemingly jumped pretty far between verifiable research and conclusion. When challenged, the claim of "I know it or I feel it" doesn't hold much water...not outside of the spiritual community anyway. And I like to think of myself as a very spiritual person with my feet very much rooted in science. So, as difficult as it was to rearrange a belovedly held belief, I had to adjust my thinking and teaching. At least, until further research could prove otherwise. And so for many years, through many courses and classes through many schools and institutes I have taught what was known about history. Not what was wished for or intuited, though my own intuition said there was more to it. I believe it is irresponsible to paint history with a pink paintbrush, as it were, to make things what one wishes it were. The same held true for the idea of the Great Witch Hunts that are a blight on western history. There is no denying that they took place. However, many wanted to claim this disgusting period as a sort of spiritual-political emblem. I cannot begin to count the number of women I have met over the years who would fall into a sort of deep melancholy over a remembered life where they were burned at the stake. It was written in countless books over the years, touted in dozens of movies, etc, that millions of women had been burned at the stake. The number of 9 million became the sort of stand by number. Research and evidence (in other words, solid proof) speaks otherwise. If one does even a small amount of research into the actual history of the Witch Hunts in Europe, one finds a much different, though equally disgusting, story. The Hunts varied wildly from country to country and were far fewer in number than reported by the Neo-Pagan community(by about 8.5 million conservatively). In Ireland, perhaps one or two witches were killed. In Scotland, vast numbers died. Witches were not burned in England. They were hung. They were indeed burned on the continent. The greatest persecutions happened along border regions and in small secular villages. The Church, which is often the demonized party in the whole mess, was more interested than not in having a confesson rather than the cost of a trial and execution. Often, if you confessed, you got off on some (admittedly harsh) bread and water pennance. Look at it this way: A dead witch could not pay a tithe to the church, now could he or she? A very large number of men (in Iceland it was more men than women) were killed. The myth that midwives were the target is pure silliness. If anything they are under-represented in the totals of the killings and were often found to be assisting the persecutors. And in America, witches were not burned, they were hanged, with the exception of Giles Corey who was crushed to death in Salem in 1692.

My point here is that history on a personal level is often not what it would seem. And an open mind has to be maintained. Recent evidence now is suggesting that indeed, human civilization goes back far further than we have imagined and there were indeed instances...faint traces...of matriarchal societies. Should I have followed my intuition in the first place and just kept on teaching based on guess work? Certainly not. Or on my emotional attachement? Absolutely not.
This, in a long winded way, brings me to my original point. I seem to be running into the idea an awful lot of the time lately, that somehow, if one could go back to the past or relive it, things would be a lot better. Or if things were like they were then..."In a simpler time", it would be great. Here's my take on "The Past"
For those who want to go back to (I'm going to go into a bit of ancient history squashing here) ancient Celtic times, Medieval times, Dark Ages, Renaissance ages, or even Victorian times, please sit and have a think about the following (I want to say here that yes, my profession is based on art and ideas taken form my study of history. It doesn't mean I want to live there). In pretty much any of those ages, me and everyone I know would have died of old age long ago. I actually would have died along with Twyla in childbirth. As would my sister in law. As would my brother. Both of my brothers would be dead, actually. And my sister, from complications after the birth of my niece. Any of you in Twyla's age group would certainly have at least one child by now or be considered unmarriageable. You would likely all be hungry (I don't know very many nobles) and you would be malnourished. The smells then would likely kill us now. If age and childbirth didn't kill us, war or disease would. You would work like a slave each and every day of the year and then you would suffer the indignity of dying of illness. Many of you would have watched at least one child succumb before their first year. If they lived beyond that, common childhood illness would take them before they were ten. Until the advent of penicillin in the early part of the last century, death could come from something as innocuous as a mosquito bite (Lord Carnarvon, who funded Howard Carter's career likely died of shaving an infected mosquito bite on the cheek) or a scratch in the garden. More people died of infection during WW1 than as a result of direct injury from weapons. Prince Albert, husband of Queen Victoria, died of Typhoid in his very early 40s. Even the monarch of the English Empire was not immune, though he likely had the wealth of the empire to save him.
Why would you want to live there? Then there are the modern mourners for the past, specifically their own. The term "back in the day" absolutely enrages me. Ask Twyla. Whenever someone utters the dreaded phrase, she almost cowers. And for a reason. I've listened for years to my sister grapple with her love-hate of The Past. To the point that, I hate most music from my own past. I feel like I am in the witch's torture chamber myself whenever I have to hear Culture Club banging out Karma Karma Karma yet again. Or Cindy Lauper or Madonna. It seems like I hear more of it now than when I was a teenager watching it on Video Hits after school. The thing is that I don't know anyone that had the time of their lives in the eighties. I don't. We had some fun but it was usually shit (especially in my family). I never heard anyone go "God, I wish the eighties would last forever!" We had Reagan. We had Ethiopia. We had the USSR. We had AIDS. We had to wear silly rubber bracelets to be cool (yeah, thanks aLOT for that one Madonna, you idiot).

How about the seventies. The ugliest clothing EVER conceived. Everything was in shades of A & W, fercrissakes. We had the USSR. We had Three Mile Island, Watergate, Vietnam, Kent State. Canadians were uber nerds. We had a plethora of stupid folk music. You couldn't pay me to go back there. I'd rather eat a bowl of lizards than have to pull brown polyester pants over pink polyester leotards ever again.
Then there is THE SIXTIES! Like every era, there were some good things. But like any era, I think the good things landed on more of a personal level in moments rather than over the decade. You can't point to a few good Beatles tunes and go "this was the decade to live in forever." Pass. The sixties treated women like garbage. JFK was blown away along with MLK & Bobby Kennedy. A lot of people cite the music as evidence that the sixties were the best. I cite all of the musicians that died of substance abuse, Janice and Jim. Every decade has had it's share of fabulous music. It is no secret how I feel about drugs and drug culture and the sixties seemed to be the real start of glorifying that whole mind set, the Victorians chasing the dragon not withstanding. There is nothing glorious about it in any way. I think that if most people could see how they behave when they are under the influence they would have some serious second thoughts about their decision making. Ask Amy Winehouse. I'm sure she thought that she looked pretty effing awesome in Serbia, when she looked like fool and now she's dead. A waste of youth and talent.

The Fifties, where most conservatives seem hell bent on reverting us to, were a post war backstep to roping women back into the house and consuming as much as possible. It was the beginning of turning the world into a fossil fuel guzzling plastic nightmare that is killing us today with consumer greed and corporate madness while painting a whitemeat Protestant-Christian version of what is acceptable in the bedroom, in the classroom, in the temple and in the marketplace.

I don't think I have to say much about the fourties other than Hitler or the Great Depression of the thirties.

The point here is that, yes, I have great memories from each and every decade in which I have lived. Cool stuff happened. There were good times. They were little islands of happy amidst a sea of not very good things going on in the world. Each of us had those. Should we revert back to that era because of it. No effing way. Our only hope is in the future and what we can make of it, whether it is filled with rennaissance clothing and lutes or drug free flower children singing...well, hopefully not folk music. Yuck! Or maybe it should just be something entirely new. Because the things that created all of that stuff were the harsh realities of those times. We have harsh realities now and they are far and beyond what any of those times could have ever imagined, save perhaps those swimming through the shit storm of WW2. We must create a Utopia that is for our time, the one that each and every one of us is living in right now. We haven't got a hope if all we can do is moon about back-in-the-day. It is useful to study the past and even honour those who lived in it that gave us the stepping stones to go beyond their mistakes. So far, all we seem to be doing is repeating them. Let's look at the past for what it really was. Let's look at it without all of the romantic silliness. Let's take what was wise and progressive and just let go of the rest. Because you can't drink, smoke or wish your way back to a few good times. You have to look straight ahead and plan for a whole different reality if there is going to be a future to look back on.

Whats on the Menu: Vietnamese Soup

Listening to: The Carolina Chocolate Drops

Reading: "Lords of Battle: The World of the Celtic Warrior" by Stephen Allen

Goals & Viewing: Cowboys and Aliens tonight! Yee Haw!

The Harvest Begins...

2011-07-23T10:54:00.000-07:00

We've just spent the morning in the potato and raspberry gardens pulling about a month and a half worth of thistles. Needless to say, I am hurtin'. I requested that I have enough clear weather this morning just for that job and I was much obliged to receive it. And it was a helluva job. With all of the rain, pretty much constant with a very few scortching, hot, muggy days here and there, the garden has suffered from my not weeding. I personally like the rain and overall I'm not that concerned with having it overcast or even marginally cool. I don't do well in the heat, usually ending up with a headache and little desire to do anything useful. I have been dismayed to hear all of the complaining and whining about the rain. How quickly it slips from people's minds how dry it has been. How the lakes and waterways have been literally disappearing. How many gardens didn't grow at all last year but the grasshoppers did. And they made short work of what was left. I personally am grateful for all the moisture replenishing what has been lost. We are not suffering from record shattering heatwaves, massive wildfires or killing drought and dustbowl type storms here right now. I've not seen it this green and lush for a long, long time. The frogs are in ecstasy and there is a bumper crop of them. I'm not saying that there aren't drawbacks to all the rain. But overall, the pros far outweigh the cons at this point. I know, I know. Mosquitoes. A tablespoon of applecider vinegar every day (put it in your tea or just straight up) and a blend of lavender-eucalyptus and teatree (20 drops of each) in 1 cup of water spritzed on is very helpful. At the farmer's market, Twyla and I just apply lavender oil neat and we really aren't terribly bothered. Apply the same to bites and the itch is gone.

So the potato patch isn't perfect but it isn't a sea of thistles. We harvested raspberries and rhubarb today and the saskatoons should be ready within a day or two, though keeping those hooligan waxwings off them is almost impossible. The rotters dig their beaks in, take one bite and leave the rest to rot. It makes me furious! Take what you want but eat what you take.

Onto the news. We've had a bear messing around the area. Twyla and I stumbled upon him while walking to get mail a few weeks ago. We had been seeing something monkeying around near the greenhouses for awhile and thought it might be a bear, but you sort of go "naaaahh". It would seem that our ursine friend has been stampeding the livestock of our neighbours or at least something is. We did call the fish cops to see if it could be dealt with before some gun happy jackass decides to just kill it or us (something we do not want to happen) but Officer Unhelpful basically treated me like I was some imbecile female type in heels and a beehive, wearing a party dress to do the dishes. I was told to visit their website to learn how to deal with a bear if confronted. I was told that humans and bears have been living beside each other for hundreds of years. I was told that when he was in Calgary he would get hundreds and hundreds of calls every year because people had bears in their yards ( at this point I wondered if he'd been posted in Calgary in 1898 maybe). I was told that people live with bears every day in Jasper and Banff (I didn't bother pointing out that they also have the garbage cans that lock and rangers who deal with encounters). After the marathon condescending lecture, I asked him at what point the bear would be considered enough of a problem to be dealt with. He said "Well, if the bear is trying to come into your house or if he's trying to get into your car while you're in it, then we would consider that a big problem and 'we'd' come out and get it." Upon hearing this, Twyla wondered, well what if the bear is just sitting on your doorstep and not actually trying to get in the house. Is that a problem? Or how about if the bear is trying to get into your car but you are not in it, is that a problem? Or what about the kids on bikes that ride up and down the road. If the bear tries to get up on their bikes with them, is that a problem?

It was so stupid that if I wasn't so pissed I would have laughed at the arrogance of the guy.
Anyhow, the bear is still apparently out there and we all just take a few precautions when we go out.

I finally got Twyla's grad pictures back. The strike delayed everything, but they are here and they're awesome. They turned out really well, but holy expensive, Batman! Yeesh!

Chester is doing great. He had his check up this past Monday and the doc is absolutely astonished at how well he's doing. He has a silky fluffy coat now and looks nothing like he looked before chemo. He used to look like, I don't know...a small sasquatch or something. Now he looks a little like a small bear. All the other critters are doing fine too, though little Poppyseed the gerbil finally crossed the Rainbow Bridge after an extremely extended life...for a gerbil. May he find the sweetest seeds and the greenest grass to play in.

The rest of the past month has been spent on the new website and putting it all together. You can finally actually visit the site at

www.theraggedrose.com

It's a work in progress as we haven't got the catalogue set up yet. The Etsy store is where you will be directed for product until the site is all done and has the bugs worked out. We've just set up a Facebook page. We'd appreciate a "like" if you get the chance to go there. Have a look and let us know what you think. There is also a blog for The Ragged Rose that you can link to on the site. We're having a lot of fun with designs, especially the clothing and bags. We just finished a new bag last night actually. We'll be putting it up sometime today.

Now, there are actually a few golden leaves peeking through the green on the trees. The apples on the tree grow daily. I always begin to look forward to Fall at this time of the year. It is more than my favourite season. It is in me. It is me. Perhaps that sounds a bit odd, but so many things pull at my heart in Autumn...haunted Samhain nights, Harvest feasts and bonfires, frosty mornings and shivery kisses and walking hand in hand through the rattling grass, cloaks trailing behind as the harvest moon hangs low in the sky. Perhaps those days are not lost but awaiting resurrection. Perhaps.

Enjoy the rain and the wet earth and the glory of the green. Light a fire on the hearth and pull on a sweater if need be. Things are changing and strange days may be ahead for all of us.

What's on the menu: Turkey soup and rhubarb cobbler

Listening to: the wind

Reading: New Charles DeLint ... a compilation of Newford stories

Viewing: Beastly tonight

Goals: Hah! Little of everything.

Chester's Journey and other updates...

2011-02-09T07:04:00.000-08:00

Well, the boy has gone through his fourth chemo treatment, so he only has one left. The picture is him on Monday after we returned from the vet. He's still pretty sedated here and his needle booboo is still wrapped. He isn't completely bald now on his head. He's sprouting some kind of wild boar fur that is very prickly at the top. This is what he does when he's sedated. Lays in front of his warm wooby (his heater) and holds his puck in his mouth. He's hanging in there pretty well and is in complete remission. I don't want to think about anything further than that. I'm just happy to have him here to hog the bed. He's a master at that.
I think everyone is a little snow weary now, but I'm not minding it that much. This whole journey with Chester has taught me to just let the days pass slowly as they will and not wish for the future to come too quickly. Because it will. There are things in the future that I'm not all that anxious for. I do look forward to getting my hands into the soil again. The herbs and weedy ways are stirring and calling and I'm afraid I must heed the call. We made a really nice rose-geranium lip balm yesterday. I find we're going through the stuff like crazy, it's so dry. I'm feeling a little mummified, actually. We also did a batch of offering incense made with 1000 year old tobacco that we grew here, sage and patchouli. It will be for sale through the Etsy store or you can call us and we'll hook you up.
I have found myself a little nostalgic the last little while. Probably most parents do when they realize that their child is about to graduate. It's such a life passsage. We have to send in the sizes for Twyla's cap and gown this week and do all of the arranging for the whole thing. Then, shortly thereafter she will turn 18. I was telling her that the day we brought her home, I said to Brad, we'd better be careful because she will turn 18 tomorrow. I think we have been careful. I think she's turned out to be a human being that I am proud of. I know intellectually that the day she turns 18 she won't be this other person. She still has a long road of school ahead of her, but it's a milestone. Like, we accomplished something. If you know Twyla, you know we did.
I've just had the worst gawdawful migraines for about three weeks now. It's like torture when they cluster and really takes any enjoyment out of life altogether. It hasn't stopped me noticing that we have entered a time of extreme weather that is only going to escalate. It's not like there were no warnings. Now the piper has come to be paid. I would offer advice but I don't really think people are interested in listening. They either give the "Oh, there's been extreme weather before" song and dance to which I just shrug and say "whatever" because I can't be bothered to argue with them or they figure scientists/government/ignoring it will fix it or they belong to the extreme right and live in a constant state of denial about anything remotely sensible.
I just want to say, pay attention.
So there you have it. Please check out the Etsy store. We really appreciate the support:
www.etsy.com/shop/AutumnDomoslai
Hang in there. Spring is coming. If you listen carefully, you will hear Her stirring, even when it snows...
What's on the menu: Maybe meatpie
Listening to: Bellowhead
Reading: Entangled Minds
Goals: Clean the studio and making more incense
Viewing: Ghost Hunters International

Chester and Stuff

2011-01-21T07:17:00.000-08:00

I figured it was high time to wish everyone a Happy New Year. When people start calling and wondering when the blog is coming it is time to make time. That is literally the truth though. I just have not had the time. I don't have time this morning really, but I love you all that much!
Chester had his third chemo on Monday. They upped his dosage a bit since he did fairly well with the much lower dosage last time. He is certainly feeling it and I live by the beeping of the alarm which goes off constantly to remind me it's time to administer one medication or another. He has almost no hair now. Everyone keeps mistaking him for a Chinese crested...without the crest. I call him my little chupocabra. It's like mange gone wild. Thing is he is still so cute. He knows he's getting some special treatment too. His mama didn't raise no idiot! He spends most days between puck chasing and harassing Kippy, sleeping in front of his heater on the couch or curled up on my lap demanding massages. If I don't comply he sits up with his nose touching mine, both paws on my chest to tell me "now, Mama". How could we not try to save him? I've had some interesting conversations with people about how much we are spending on his treatment. We are well beyone $3000.00 now. Some think its crass to talk about money, but here's the thing. He's my little boy. And it's just money. My sister was being a little snarky because we haven't bought a new washing machine yet. But this is the life of someone in my family. Who the hell cares about a washing machine. When I cross over I will not be taking some stupid machine with me. I do believe that this little fur person will be my companion there as he is here. I'm a great believer in that story that goes:
A man and his dog die in an accident. They find themselves on the long road up to the pearly gates where some angelic wise-guy type sits at a podium with a big book. He looks up the man's name and says with a smile "Ah, just go on in, my friend!" the man and his dog start toward the opening gates. The guy at the podium calls out, "now, just hold on there a second, Mate. There are no dogs allowed here. They don't have a soul."
The man stops short. He looks at the gleaming towers and golden light just beyond the gates. Then he looks down at his friend. They stare into each others eyes for a long moment. The man turns around and starts heading back down the road. The guy at the gate calls back to him, "What are you doing!?!? Are you refusing eternity within!?!?"
The man turns back and says,, "Well, I just can't leave my friend behind. I'd rather just wander the roads with him if it's all the same to you."
The guy at the gates looks at him and strikes his name from the book. "Don't bother coming back here." he says.
The man replies "Don't worry."
So the man and his dog head off down the dirt road. After a while they come to a rickety fence and a gate with the paint peeling. They figure, what do we have to lose? He opens the gate and they head up the long path that runs through woods and fields. The sun is warm and he takes off his jacket. Soon they come to a little log cabin. It looks like nobody has been around in a long time. They knock and the door creaks open. The dog sticks his nose in and gives a sniff. They enter into the cabin and the man calls out "Hello...?"
No answer. They walk around slowly. There is a great stone hearth where a fire is neatly laid and ready to be lit. There is a table with a place setting and a bowl beside the chair on the floor. Some bread and cheese are set on a sideboard. Down a hallway is a room with a bed, covered in a patchwork quilt that looks much like a quilt the man's mother made him when he was a boy. The man decides, well, we'll just stay the night here and if someone comes back, I can do some work to pay my way. They return to the table and have a bite to eat. As the sun sets and the crickets begin to chirp, they wander out to the porch where the man sits in a rocking chair. The dog curls up at his feet. The air is warm and the stars come out one by one. Pretty soon, they see a figure approaching from up the path. As he draws near, they see he is a bit ragged and pretty old. He calls a greeting. The man thinks, Oh dear. Now we'll have to leave. Maybe we can just stay the night. It sure is peaceful here. As the old man draws near the dog sits up and his tail thumps twice on the wooden floor of the porch.
"Hello there" the old fellow says. "It's a long road...I'm wondering if I might spend the night and beg a bite to eat."
The man smiles, a bit relieved. Another vagabond on the road. He welcomes the man into the cabin and gives him food. Then, when the old fellow has eaten his fill, he guides him to the room with the bed.
"Oh no", the elder protests, "I can't take your bed!"
The man laughs and says "This is no more my bed than it is yours. You take the bed. I don't mind sleeping under the stars."
So thus they spend the night. In the morning, the man awakens to the golden sunrise shining through the leaves, his dog curled next to him in the grass. A cheeky robin is singing in a tree close by.
The man rises, feeling surprisingly spry. He enters the cabin only to find, to his great surprise that instead of the old man, his father is sitting at the table with two places set. Tears spring to the man's eyes and he lets out a great cry of joy, for his father died many years ago. The two embrace.
The father says "I'm sorry for the deception son. It is the test of kindness and charity that we all must pass. And you passed with flying colours as I knew you would.
"But where are we, Dad?" the man asks, in awe.
"Why, this is heaven, son, and this is your place. Your mother and I live just down the road a ways. We fixed it up for you and Pete, here, when we heard you were coming."
"But what was that other place?" the man asks in confusion.
"Why that was Hell, son. You don't think that heaven would be a place that would refuse to let such a kind and loyal being enter, do you?"
The man beamed and stroked the head of his old friend.
"Come on down for supper later. Your Mother is anxious to see you."
*************************************************************************************
Anyway, that's my version of the story. But it's what I believe.
So, we've got snow piled high and it feels like the Swiss Alps here. It's warm out today though. And Chester is curled up beside me. And it's about time for breakfast.
I'll be putting some pretty cool things into the Etsy store today. So, please, go check it out. Lotta bills to pay and all that;-)
www.etsy.com/shop/AutumnDomoslai

What's on the menu: Chicken noodle soup, Apple pie
Listening to: Omnia
What's goin' on: Making tiny tomes
Viewing: Ha! Heroes...season 3 and Paranormal State

Chester's Journey - Round 2

2010-12-29T05:10:00.000-08:00

I figure, it's bad enough having to go through all of this. Not exactly everyone's Christmas wish. But when you have people making it more difficult, people who are supposed to be the ones who are professional and care, that just makes it seem like you're being a bit picked on.
Chester's second chemo was yesterday. He was finally starting to be himself. He'd gained back his weight and was pretty normal, if tiring quickly. I'd been back and forth emailing his doctor trying to get to the bottom of what the hell happened when he was so sick after the last treatment. I basically got a lot of bullshite and excuses and 'I dunnos'. What else? I was told that the clinic is world class and they love all the animals as though they were their own and it boiled down to trying to make me feel like I was mistaken and maybe over reacting just a little. It finally came down to me just having enough and saying "you know, I didn't expect anyone to apologize or say that this should never have happened but it won't happen again. I'm not a naive idiot. However, Chester's Journey in this is being documented publicly step by step for his many friends around the world and I'd really like to say that the people caring for him showed absolute compassion and made this experience as kind, loving and gentle as possible." Then the reply was suddenly a little nicer and I was assured that Chester would be lovingly carried out if it ever came to that again rather than being dragged across the floor at the end of a rope tied around his neck.
I just thought, 'yeah, right'.
Anyway, he had originally been booked to go ion on the 21st. It was pretty much universally decided that he was too weak and needed extra time to recover and gain his weight back. So the doc suggested the 27th or 28th. I decided on the 28th. I'd already called to book that day but they suggested I talk to Dr. Stelfox, which I did with all the emails. Then I called the clinic to book the 28th again. They said, oh, it's already been changed to the 28th. Come in a half hour early.
So, the 28th being yesterday, with a fair amount of dread, we packed up Chester in his blankie since he is becoming quite bald on his chest, legs and underside. We got there almost exactly at 1:30, walked in and said to one of the frowning receptionists "Chester is here for his appointment". She glanced at her book and looked up going "Uh...no. He's not booked for today." I. Was. Immediately. Unhappy. I said "Uh...yes. He is." She made a huge show of flipping pages back and forth looking at the other receptionists in a perplexed manner. "No, he's not booked."
I explained, "I called twice. The appointment was booked. I talked to Dr. Stelfox. She knew the appointment was booked." At this point, she goes "You talked to Dr. Stelfox?" I said yeah, I have the emails. I can bring them in if proof needs to be provided (because I am lying, of course)." At this point they started muttering about how she didn't write it down again and it just turned into a ridiculous fluster. Then someone went to the back to ask what to do. They said that Dr. Stelfox's husband would be able to do Chester's chemo. I said, well I want to talk to Dr. Stelfox. I had the feeling that something strange was going on here. So it was decided that we would come back at 3:00. We went away after they did bloodwork on Chester and then came back at 3. They took us into the room where we were told that Dr. Stelfox would only be able to see us on the fly for a few minutes. I thought, you know I'm getting a little tired of this. So she comes in, says they decided to give him 30% less of the treatment in the hopes that he would have a much better reaction. It was all very nervous-friendly. She told us that they were on call until 3pm on the 31st and to call before then if he had any GI problems. So I attempted to ask her, well, what about after hours (meaning after 3 on the 31st) to which she snarled "I just explained that." I think my mouth dropped open. She then recovered and seemed to understand what I wanted to know and said "well, just tell the vets in Stony Plain (who are the ones on call after 3pm on the 31st) to track one of us down because of the situation".
I'm starting to be just a little weirded out by this time. Then she completely acted as though she had no knowledge of this appointment yesterday and she didn't know why I'd made this mistake. I clarified that I did not make the mistake. She ignored that and left quickly. So the tech (who was very nice) gives him his pre meds while I held him. They gave the sedation a few minutes to work and this Dr. Reid (sp) comes in and takes him.
We waited about 40 minutes and Reid comes back out carrying Chester, hands him over, says "I have to do paperwork" in a very quiet voice and walks away. So there I stood holding my out-of-it guy, waiting. Reid comes out again after a bit of time and puts the paperwork and prescriptions on the counter and starts to walk away, barely glancing up at me. I go "well, how did it go? How was he?" You know...the doctor is generally supposed to say something to you. Isn't he? I mean, it is a cancer treatment that didn't go very well last time. He looks back and quickly says "Good. He almost went to sleep". He then scurried away and that was that.
Then we were ignored for ten minutes as we stood there at the desk waiting. That has happened almost every time. Finally we took the stuff to one of the receptionists who has always been a sweetheart. She did all the paperwork, explained the meds and off we went. Honestly, it is becoming a little surreal. Especially since, as she was booking the next appointments, she goes, "well, I don't know what happened or how you mistook today as being his appointment. I clarified that it was, as a matter of fact, not me who made the mistake. This is starting to just infuriate me.
Chester was pretty dopey all evening. He didn't seem as wasted as he was last time since they said they gave him only a single dose of sedative. He slept a little last night but I've been up with him since about 4am. I wasn't really sleeping before that. We have to be pretty vigilant because of the extreme toxicity of his waste and he'd already wet his bed once. Now he's just sort of sitting here beside me acting like he's tripping in a terrible way. Which of course, is very distressing. I carry him out to go potty every half hour or so but he gets so cold that all he does is shiver.
I'm just tired, you know. I am having to make some really rough and crappy decisions here for a lot of reasons, this just being one (though granted a pretty big one). Now to have this whatever it is going on with this clinic is just not okay. No one likes a mistake pointed out but this is supposed to be a group of medical veterinary professionals, for godsakes! And now its like they are either playing some creepy game or they are so concerned with looking out for their own asses that at some point here a mistake is really going to be made and it will cost lives. They are so incredibly busy that they don't recognize you from one minute to the next. One of them will look you in the eye, give your dog three needles as you hold him. She will engage you in conversation and not an hour later will look you in the eye while you hold the same dog while standing beside your same daughter and blankly ask if I've been helped. Then walk away in a seeming daze when I go, in a perplexed voice "Yes, I've been helped". Bizarre.
So I've got the alarm set continually to go off for medicine time and potty time. This means the alarm goes off roughly every 15 minutes to half hour. I'm actually thinking Chester is still pretty stoned, the way he's sitting here with glazed eyes and his tongue sticking out. Shouldn't the stuff have worn off by now? Did they give him too much again? It's been sixteen hours now.

Anyway, a couple more updates. Bugsy and Henry have found a great new home, for which I am very happy. It was a gift that they got to go together with someone I trust who is very experienced with birds. We had a pretty quiet Christmas. Went to see Tron and Little Fockers, but I was pretty unwell with a miserable cold. It's better now, though I'm still coughing a bit. Poor Twyla got through that horrible stomach flu and now she's got my cold. My poor Chickie.
Christmas at my brother's house on Monday was even more loud and chaotic than usual. I dunno. Everything actually seems a little surreal and I'm sure it's not just the lack of sleep.
On Sunday it will be exactly five years that we have been here. I can't say that there has been a whole lot of enjoyment...that certainly hasn't been the overwhelming feeling of life here. Don't get me wrong. It is beautiful out here (or was until the great day of demolition) and we have met some dear people that will be friends forever. There is just something missing. Actually a lot of somethings and the odd someone that I miss desperately, almost to the point of feeling sick with it sometimes. Maybe it is how much of myself and my life I seem to have misplaced. (This was demonstrated by the woman who adopted the cockatoos. She goes "maybe you could sell some of your art on the Internet. You probably could not get more than a hundred dollars for those ones one the wall" she said, pointing to the originals. I thought to myself it just figures. There was not really any point to saying anything to that. And the fact is that they are on my wall, rather than someone else's. So...
Maybe it is all of the horror and misery and sorrow we've had to deal with. Maybe it is the fact that the damn house is slowly crumbling, bit by bit. I think the guy we bought it from was pretty unscrupulous and did a whole bunch of home-handyman cosmetic renovation stuff just to sell it that we just didn't notice or know enough to notice. In all fairness, the house inspector didn't notice either. Listen to me grumbling here. Call it no sleep.
Time to get to work I guess. Would you light a little candle for Chester if you have a minute? Maybe if enough little lights burn out there he will see his way past all this and come out of it with a bit more life and energy. Hmmm. Maybe I need a few candles too;-)
Hope you all had a great Christmas, Yule and may your New Year be full of wondrous things and magickal miracles.
Thanks for following along with us on this journey. I hope that 2011 has more happy stories than not. For all of us. Joy to you!
Love
Auntie Autumn

Chester's Journey...An Update

2010-12-13T06:44:00.000-08:00

It's been a week since we went to the vet to bring Chester home. He crashed in a most terrifying manner two days after the chemo. He was such a sick baby. We'd had to rush him to the vet on the Thursday night after he began vomiting and diarrhea continuously. The vets in Gunn were wonderful. However, the vet in Spruce Grove where he gets his chemo wanted him there so we transferred him, sick all the way, and he was put on iv for the entire weekend. I can't go into a lot of detail right now because it may turn into a legal matter, but the Chester we picked up last Monday was a shell of himself. They brought him out soaked in feces and urine, dragged across the icy floor with a yellow rope tied around his neck. He still was not eating or drinking and he was so utterly terrified that it was indescribable. Ive only seen such behavior in the worst abuse cases. I've been in contact with his doctor who was away at the time to express my outrage and disgust. That's all I can say about it right now. It was a long week of force feeding a pureed mixture of water, rice and boiled hamburger and forcing water mixed with Gatorade down Chester's throat with a syringe along with a multitude of medications. He was unable to maintain body temperature so needed a heater on him at all times. He was completely incontinent so lots and lots of bedding changes and towelling dry. He weighed next to nothing like a little trembling bag of feathers and sticks. He couldn't walk or even get up. I was up literally for days with him, catching a little sleep when I could. I am happy to report that on Thursday he started to make a turn around. He finally tottered out of the kennel, insisting on sleeping in the bedroom again. He began taking a little food...actually he stole some of Rosie's special food. He had a drink on his own and wanted to have the puck tossed onto his bed so he could pretend to chase it. Saturday he ate more and was tottering around. Yesterday he was putting on weight, eating everything in sight (including the cat food) guzzling water and blaming Kippy for everything. He was trying to break out of the kitchen (he actually succeeded several times) and was strong enough to be carryied outside to pee. He's still having a hard time holding it long enough to get to the paper. But we're getting there. His next chemo is scheduled for the 20th but I am going to delay that until at least the 28th. I want him to regain his weight and his strength. We will also be talking about the adjustments to the dose. I will not put him through this again. He goes for a blood test today to check his cbc. He ended up anaemic after being at the vet for those three horrific days. He still sleeps a lot but he's a lot better. More than I can say for people for whom hell will be raised very shortly. I'm a little vexed. A lot tired. And I'm in no mood for the crap I saw last week when Chester was brought out to me by people who were supposed to care.

Chester's Journey - Suffering

2010-12-03T06:12:00.000-08:00

When I was twenty I worked as an in-home nursing aid. I mostly worked with geriatrics but I saw a lot of suffering in younger people and children as well. I saw enough suffering (and suffered enough insufferable ingratitude) that I didn't persue that line as a career. I now see suffering on a daily scale that might stagger you. I gloss over it here and a lot of times try to avoid it. Who wants to here on a daily basis "people are idiots"? Talk about stating the obvious.
Chester is suffering right now. On Wednesday, he had to be taken in to get his white cell count done. He was lethargic and had no appetite. He was sent home and we were told to come back if it got worse. Well, it got worse. We came home from the city last night to find that the boy had diarrhea and was feeling weak. The chemo is making him feel wretched and very sick. We were warned that this might happen. I am now getting the usual contingent of advice from I don't know how many people saying "well, maybe you should let him go, maybe you should put him down, maybe you should kill him off because he's suffering." I watched Twyla nearly go through the roof after about the tenth one. Let me explain something to those who think I may not be thinking things through or doing this "for myself". Most people know I suffer from migraines. Those of you who have never experienced this condition will think "awe...poor baby gets headaches". Those people can take an immediate trip to the hot place. When I say I suffer from migraine, I'm not talking about a few headaches. I am talking about agonizing pain Half the time. It is not something that just happens because I am stressed or hung over. And it doesn't just effect the head. It causes vomiting and relentless nausea. It causes my face to go numb and my motor functions to basically disassemble. It causes my eyesight to go (one of the reasons I don't drive, kids...I would be a danger on the road. These things can hit very fast). It causes my thinking to become blurred and it feels like the pressure inside my head will cause it to burst. It causes sinus suffocation and shaking and extreme sensitivity to certain sounds (dog barking and bird screeching especially can be like a loud drill shrieking next to your ears) and light. Fifteen days a month this happens if not more. If I don't take the medication immediately, it doesn't work. If I don't have medication, I will endure three days of this to a week. If a dog suffered from this relentless pain, he would be put down. He's suffering. Trust me. I suffer. And some may be going "well, it's not killing you" but as a matter of fact it can have some very dire effects like the higher potential of stroke if left to go on as well as brain and nerve damage.
If someone were to ask me if I want to be put down, I'd look at them like they were a loonie. You see, life is still sweet. Even when I am so sick I am weeping in agony, life is still sweet. Why should Chester be any different? I can't explain to him saying, " Sweetpea, this medicine is going to make you feel wretched for a while, but then it will pass and you will feel better" and then let him decide. I have to be the thinker for him and put myself into his position. If there was no chance of a parcel of time for Chester to be happy and well and if I thought this would be it, what do you think I would decide? People, when they are told that they have cancer and are offered chemo, choose to go through the suffering it causes because life is sweet and dead is for a really long time, however you look at it. They decide, well, this is going to make me feel like I want to die during moments of intense illness. But I am going to dive in because the alternative is a long time. If it were a human family member going through this I would sit and suffer at watching them suffer as well. I would weep at the pain they are experiencing and hold their hand and see them through to the other side of the treatment.
On Wednesday night when we came home from the vet, we had one of the birds cross over. I let him go. DNR, you know. He had suffered enough and it was his time. Before that, he still had fun and functioned. And it was with a sense of relief that I watched his spirit leave his poor little shell and go free. Chester's spirit is still strong. And let me tell you something. I don't just let my kids go without a fight. It would be easier in some ways. I wouldn't have to clean up hazardous diarrhea at eleven at night or drive through the night to get him to a vet or suffer myself at seeing his illness. God knows it would be cheaper than spending hundreds of dollars for said overnight stay. I would do the same for anyone I cared about. I would not just take the easy path. It's funny. I am left with people's messes to make life and death choices. I get little help and less participation without an exhausting amount of bullying and begging (with some very golden and shining exceptions). If it is Chester's time, and he will tell me it is, then I will help him to cross over in whatever way he needs to. Perhaps he crossed over last night on his own, though I still feel his presence strongly. It is with a sense of dread and worry that I wait to see how he is. Cruelly, unlike with a human child, we are not permitted to stay at their side. But I will be damned if I will let him go down without a fight because he would choose to keep fighting. That's who Chester is. His condition is terminal. We, each and every one of us is suffering from that condition. Life is terminal. Should we not fight to enjoy it for as long as we can, even if there is some suffering to have to do so? Dozens of lives have crossed over in my arms. The Gods willing, that is how Chester will cross over. When he is ready and not a milisecond before. If I am entrusted with these lives, then stop second guessing me. Please. And I promise you, if I am ever put in charge of your life, I will fight just as hard for you and you can cross over when you are damn good and ready and not because somebody decided for you that you've had enough life now. You will go when you tell me it is time. Chemo is a shite thing to have to endure. Ask people who have gone through it and gone into remission if it was worth it to spend a little more time under the sky, seeing the leaves turn and the sun setting and laughing with loved ones. Or chasing a puck. Chester has too much fun to give up, so I won't just give up for him. That is up to him.

Chester's Journey - Chemo 1

2010-12-01T10:11:00.000-08:00

Well, here's the before and after. On the way to the vet Chester was pretty bouncy and excited to go bye-bye. A very drugged out and sick puppy came home with us. It was certainly an educational and scary process. When we set out for the vet on Monday afternoon we didn't really know what to expect. We got there and were taken to the exam room. Chester was very friendly and comfortable. He was actually the best-behaved boy there. Surprisingly. The doc came in and gave him the once-over. Then they handed him off to a tech for his blood work to be done. Then we were given the rundown of what was going on. We were warned that the chemo drug was a very dangerous and volatile thing. We were told that they had to be very careful to make sure that the iv needle would go only into his vein since, if even a drop were to get onto or under his skin if the needle slipped then he would basically have his leg amputated immediately at a cost of $500.00 to us. We were told that there was a slight chance of his having anaphalactic shock which would result in his immediate death. We were given a rundown on safety precautions (such as bringing home a hazmat suit in case he vomited or had diarrhea). The drug really is dangerous and the extreme precautions sort of drove that home. Were were told that he was basically going to be a living bio-hazard for the next few days. We were given a group of prescriptions to give him to keep his stomach coated. We were told that the drug being used does damage the heart. It sort of went on and on. Eventually Chester came back with green bandages around each hind leg where they had drawn blood. We were told that someone would be holding him the entire time that he was receiving the chemo to keep him from moving. I thought to myself that they might need more than one. Finally they took our boy and everybody gave him kisses and off to the waiting room we went. A few minutes later, the doc came back to tell us that they had decided to sedate him for the procedure as he was being far too bouncy. She used the analogy of 'like a rabbit'. We all looked at each other with absolutely no surprise at all.

It was about an hour before we saw Chester again. They carried him out and we wrapped him in a blanket. He was barely able to keep his head up. They told us that they had ended up giving him two doses of anesthetic so he would be out of it for four or five hours. So we bundled the little boy up and back home we went. It turned out that he was 'out of it' for about twelve hours. Some dogs scream when they are coming out of sedation. There is a quite humorous episode of 'All Creatures Great and Small' in which a poor dog yowls constantly as it is coming out of sedation, causing Mrs. Hall to wonder what the vets have done to torture the poor animal and Tristan to go to great measures with ale and earstops to deal with the noise. There was no humour in the screams Chester would let out as he would drift into consciousness every hour or so. He would stagger to a sitting position and just wobble there. I'd have to drag him out into the cold to let him pee about every hour or so to make sure that he didn't have any hazardous accidents. We built him a crib beside the bed and at about 1:30am we tucked him in. There he lay crying for most of the night, so I would climb in with him and let him put his head on my lap until he went to sleep. I'd lie down for a few minutes and he would start to cry again. By the next morning he was eating a little and his eyes were clear and not drug-fuddled. They told us that over the next four or five day we would start to notice the huge swellings in his neck going down. Truth told they were pretty much gone by lunch the next day (yesterday). Chester is a little tired and not quite himself, but he is breathing better and playing a little with his puck. It is hard knowing that we have four more bouts of this to go, but then he should be in remission for a while. Hopefully a long time. I would urge you to go to the ACTSS site at www.actss.ca and purchase their calendar, which depicts some very cute critters helped by ACTSS. They have helped us to keep our little man for a while longer when, without their help we would have been burying our boy for Christmas. Tell them Chester sent you.

PS: We are still looking for blankets! Please remember us if you are getting rid of any.

Chester's Journey - Nov 27

2010-11-27T06:26:00.000-08:00

We heard from the subsidy people yesterday and they are able to help us. It's not for the total amount but it is a start and we are so very grateful. Chester is in his usual "it's too early in the morning, Mama" position on the chair beside me. He is sometimes so restless that I think he has a hard time finding a comfortable position. That thing on his neck is huge now. I absolutely hate it. Chester seems to be taking it all in stride. He eats a big breakfast every day and he was delighted to get a bowl of chicken for supper. I'm pretty pissed that the vitamins we usually get for the dogs has been made unavailable for import (from Melaleuca in the US). The feds allow things like herbicides and pesticides to be distributed widely, poisoning us and everything around us including our food but dog vitamins are a really big threat to the public that needs to be restricted. Whatsamatter guys. Nobody offered a fat pocket lining for this? Figgers.
I actually got a call from the vet to confirm Chester's appointment Monday. They kept calling him 'Charlie' though. I was somehow really offended by this, so yeah, I called them back and with restraint and politeness asked them to correct it and stop doing that. They did and were very contrite.
On a little aside, the foundling kitten that came to us from the woods is thriving. Reuben is delighted to have a playmate who has actually finally unglued herself from Twyla's side. She's still freaked out about pretty much everything but is having a ball with her new big brother. The chickens are laying and so far surviving the cold. The alpacas are pretty shivery but they'll adapt. The birds are all good. We'd still like to find Forever Homes for Bugsy and Henry as well as the lovebirds. I guess it'll happen when/if it happens.
Thanks for all your kind thoughts. It helps.
D - You Know.

2010-11-25T06:43:00.000-08:00

Well, we are still waiting to hear about the chemo subsidy. I did get a call from the vet at the chemo clinic. Chester's vet took his charts and application over to her the night before last. She told us that he has to be got in right away if anything is to be done, all the time making sure I understood that this is not a cure. There are two chemo options. The state of the art chemo could give him up to a year with two treatments to the tune of about $9000.00. This administers five different drugs. What she didn't say was that it also has the potential to really make him sick. The second, I guess less state of the art chemo, administers one drug and will give him maybe three to four months. Without these treatments he is less than likely to make it to Christmas. So Brad and I talked yesterday and decided that we have to give him the most time that we can manage. So I booked him in for the lesser chemo treatment on Monday. It will be costly at about $2000.00 but we just figure if we don't bother doing the whole Christmas thing and cut waaaaaay back on a lot of stuff we will manage. How can we not? How do you say to yourself "this little guy's life is not worth a few sacrifices." Each of the smiles and laughs that he has given us is worth that and more. I don't laugh or smile that easily. I am still trying to wrap my head around the reality of the whole thing. It looks like one of the cats is also sick and I'll tell ya...there are mornings that I just sit here and stare out the window as dawn creeps across the sky and wonder "what next?".
Jim, my brother, kept saying to me yesterday, just hold on to the thought that miracles happen. Hold onto hope. I suppose if I didn't I would have crumpled years ago. My sister said, "They say God only gives you what you can handle, but I think that's crap".
I would tend to agree. You can load a man up with a boulder more than his own body weight and force him to climb a mountain and if you are cruel enough or threaten someone that he loves he will do it. (I hear that was a neat Nazi trick). Does that make it right? Nope. It makes it torture. Like some sort of sick experiment just to see what happens. When you add in the factor that this type of canine illness is more often than not caused by herbicides, the rage can be pretty hard to contain.
Anyway, there is a portrait of Chester as a little angel up at the Etsy shop. Sales will go to Chester's treatment. So, if you know anyone who likes puppies and angels, maybe this would make a great gift to them and it will help to give Chester a little more time to create a little more joy as well as bringing a bit of blessing to your life.
www.etsy.com/shop/AutumnDomoslai?ref=seller_info
Meanwhile, Chester is sleeping here beside me. He ate lots of his food yesterday and played lots with his puck. His breathing is a little short at night and he sleeps a lot more during the day. I think I wake up about fifty times a night to listen or check. I'm off to make his breakfast along with all the others. Here's hoping for a decent day.

Chester's Journey - Nov. 21

2010-11-22T06:00:00.000-08:00

It is easy to get on with things when you're busy. You kind of just go and don't think about anything. The weekend had moments of that. Moments I wish I could have extended. Saturday was very quiet but there was still stuff to do and then Sunday had some very busy moments with groups of people coming. It was a pretty decent turn out for the fundraiser. Anyway, it was way better than last year when one person showed up over the whole weekend. It was only after dark when we started to tear it all down and pack up that reality came back. One of the lymphs under Chester's chin has probably doubled in size since last Monday when he was diagnosed. He still has spurts of great energy for chasing the puck or his ball. But he pants now after a half hour of play when he didn't just a few weeks ago. I find that I am waking up at ridiculously early hours and my routine has changed. I used to get up, let the cat out, go let Zoe out to go potty, put on coffee, turn on the computer, let Chester, BeepBeep and Kippy out of Twyla's room and let Zoe in. I'd grab my coffee and the three pups and I would sit and do computer work. I actually have two chairs rigged together so that we can all sit together without everyone trying to crowd onto my lap. Now I get up long before dawn to check Chester's breathing. The truth is I am checking to see if he is breathing. He lets me lay my pyjama top over him when he comes out and lays on the couch, which he never used to do. Then I sit and just stroke his soft fur and look at him. I whisper to him that he needs to stay with Mama and Twyla...how can we do without him? He just kisses my hand and looks at me. He refused to eat his peanut butter over the weekend...one of his favourite things. He still has an appetite for the food I am preparing for him but he's not much interested in his kibbles. I think what I noticed the most is that he didn't go crazy with continual barking when people were coming and going over the weekend. He barked a few times but mostly slept on his chair. I let him stay out this time. There was no way I was going to kennel him even if he barked non-stop. Every morning now I wake up with this feeling of something missing. I used to (read two weeks ago) wake up and sort of have a game plan. Now I just feel like something is missing. Like there is no focus or enthusiasm for much of anything. I had a lot of people over the week sending me messages of the type that say "just hang on and it will be okay, you will get through this" or "you are strong, everything will be alright" and I know they are trying to help and I love them for it. But. No it won't. No, it won't at all. It is wished that it will be alright. I wish it. But there is something that has altered in me and moreso in Twyla. Chester has been there for a very large part of Twyla's life, every day all day. He has spent every night but one, for at least some time, sleeping on her for nearly eight years (though he chooses to sleep curled up against her legs rather than on her head as he did when they were little...probably a good thing.) He's actually stopped moving from bed to bed now and sleeps mostly with Twyla. It's too tiring to make Kippy move from whatever bed he wants.

I haven't heard anything from the subsidy people yet and the ticking of that hateful clock grows louder each passing moment. I hate leaving him now because the changes are coming so rapidly. But I have to go to the feed and seed to get what I can while I can. I have to ship stuff. I have to get things like groceries and water. I'm not even bothering with the stupid laundromat. Whatever, right. The laundry is still going to be there. My sister asked anxiously "will he at least last until Christmas?" and I said "Of course...".

Now I wonder, will he? Who grants miracles to a precious little guy like Chester so I can throw that damn puck for him for a bunch more years? Who? Hello...is anybody there...?

Chester's Journey...Nov. 19

2010-11-19T06:34:00.000-08:00

Chester has some obsessive qualities. He loves his puck...this thing I bought at Paradise Pets several years ago. It is this asymetrical rubber bouncy puck thing that he absolutely is enthralled to. When you throw it it just goes all over the place and that just adds to the fun of chasing it. He is sitting beside me slobbering it at this very moment, making one side of my leg very warm. He also loves his green tennis ball and will play get-the-ball tirelessly. He gets it and then shoves it between your knees until you take it and toss it for him again. Chester has several stuffed 'guys'...his stork, his seal, his rat and there's an alligator puppet around here somewhere as well that does in a pinch, though technically speaking it is BeepBeep's guy. He likes to do this nursing thing on them that is very endearing. Most of all he likes to yell at Kippy and tell her that all the problems facing the planet right now (and probably in the past) are her doing. Her fault. She is guilty. Kippy ignores him and takes it all in stride. She thinks he's a loonie with an anger management problem. Her solution to pretty much all things is to ignore them.
Most of all Chester has a very distinctive, grouchy bark. He looooooves to bark. It can be a little excessive. My brother thinks that Chester's actual name is Shutupchester because Chester likes to bark when I'm on the phone. Now I never want his barking to stop and it will all too soon.
I hated having to leave him for so long yesterday. Grocery day is a pain in the ass and long and all I wanted to do was come home. I had to browbeat Twyla into leaving the house. She doesn't want to leave his side...not even for her music or to get mail. She was like that...not wanting to leave the hospital... a couple years ago when her Grandma Mavis was dying of the effing C word. She was crying and crying the other night and sobbed "I can't go through this over and over again...I don't want my dogs to go away". I feel exactly the same way. I've worried about this for a long time now, how I couldn't face this. I certainly didn't think it would start so soon. I told her that we all go through this as time goes by, our loved ones drift away. If we are lucky, they are very old like her Grandma Olga, who was quite ready at 100 years old to move on out of her ancient body and see her Mama agian, thank you very much. When you bring a puppy (or kitten or any small animal) into your life and really, truly make them an integral part of your family...someone you can't do without, you face the day that this will happen, whether they are elders who just run out of steam or whether they get sick and are stolen from you by a thief in the night, we face this. Some might say that sorrow defines you in character somehow. It chisels away at your soul really. Maybe that is the reason we move on. Each time that you lose someone, they take a little piece of your soul with them until there is more on the other side than there is here and you just sort of...pull together where most of you is. There is certainly a very large piece of me that I feel loosening inside. And there is not a good feeling in the dark edges and cracks. I remain strong for Twyla and because so many other little fur and feather kids need me to be present and have enough love for them. They still need to play and laugh. But you drift away a little, you know. I find myself drifting. The love and support of all of you mean so much. Your words are a comfort. Chester is still pretty happy and strong. He still wags his whole body when he sees us and still wants to play, though he's slowed down a little. He's sleeping now by my side, curled around his puck after licking off my new sugar and spice lipbalm which he thinks is an especially tasty one. His breathing is easy and his warmth melts a little the edges of the frost that has taken hold of me deep inside. Dawn has broken and somehow I feel at one with the snapping, bitter cold. In a way, though I worry about my outside animals pretty much constantly now, it seems right that the world out there is just as cold as me.

Chester's Journey...Nov17

2010-11-17T17:27:00.000-08:00

We didn't even get our seven to ten days of false hope. The vet called this evening to tell me that their diagnosis of lymphatic cancer had been confirmed. You get this hope going even while a fear gnaws away deep inside, you know. I'm sure everyone who has ever waited for a horrifying test result for a loved one has gone through this. They say there are several steps that a person goes through when a tragic diagnosis is given. I think we went through pretty much all of them save one in the last 48 hours, from disbelief to rage to bargaining. Twyla swore that if someone or something would save our little man she'd "have their face, symbol and propaganda tattooed on her ass". It's the acceptance part that I'm having a hard time with. I just can't wrap my head around it and make it real, and yet at the same time it is like being in some sort of chemically induced hyper-reality that scrapes against the nerves and blinds the vision.
Dr. Caulfield said that without chemo our little man has maybe three months if he is given steroid treatments. There is utterly no hope and all we can do is make him comfortable. She gave me the name of some people that sometimes subsidize cancer treatment for pets (it seems weird calling him that...I don't really even think of him as a dog). She told me of the liquid supplement he will be put on when he starts losing weight and won't eat. She told me that he won't really be in pain , but how will we know? How do you ask a little guy who has his own language that I am still learning, "Does it hurt? Where does it hurt, little one? Are you thirsty? Are you cold?" How do I explain to him why I can't make it go away like I make the scary dark go away at night. How do I face the years ahead without his goofy smile and clicky claws across the floor. You know, I can tell who is who by their claws clicking. Chester kind of jogs along with his feathery fur floofing with every step. How do I face the day when he can't play with his ball or his puck for hours on end anymore. "Fetch, Mama, play fetch!" When I throw the ball and it lands in a box or under something he is suspicious of, he comes and says "Mum!'. I'll tell him, "show me where it is" and he will unerringly take me to exactly where the ball went, even if it was days ago. There have been a few times that I didn't believe him, thinking how on earth could the ball have gotten in there and he insisted, "it is, it is so in there" and when I've dug far enough, there it is.
When I got off the phone tonight, I sat down on the kitchen floor because it was so hard to stand. Chester immediately came and dumped his ball in my lap while Chloe bounced around like a loony. It was just as hard to see Twyla crumple onto my lap and sob when I told her and Brad what the doc had said.
My sister and niece were pretty emotional when I told them. My brother immediately offered his strong shoulders. He says I am the strongest person he knows. I don't feel strong. I feel completely helpless and stupid.
So I applied to the subsidy program and it says I am supposed to hear back within 72 hours. It has to be soon because there is not much time. It's like this horrible clock ticking down relentlessly. I know we all have a clock that begins ticking down the second life sparks within us but we still hold on and in the end it is so short a time. I told Twyla that no matter what, Chester will wait for us. He will be there with his ball, wagging his whole self when it is our turn to cross over.
When I leave the house for even a few minutes, Chester starts a crying howl deep down in his chest and it rises up until every creature in the house is carrying on in a disharmonic symphony, from the other dogs to the birds to the cats...all yowling with this terrible sense of loss and I'm not even gone. That is the sound that is in my soul today.

My Little Man, Chester

2010-11-16T05:27:00.000-08:00

Have you ever been punched in the stomach really hard or fallen onto your back and had the 'wind knocked out of you'? That is how I felt yesterday, standing with Twyla and Brad and Chester in the vet's examination room. You know, they apparently don't tell you to sit down. They don't offer you any sort of cushion for the blow that they are about to deliver, not that it would matter or make a difference. It's like a semi truck hitting you as you turn a corner. Let me tell you, I am so sick and tired of the 'C' word. Fuck the 'C' word. It stalks friends and family and just destroys. It tears the walls down that are so carefully constructed so that sorrow rushes in like a tsunami. And when it washes away again, there is an awful lot missing. Things that you can't afford to lose. Chester is my little man. He has really been the only man in my life for the almost eight years of his life. He sleeps more often than not curled tightly against my belly. When I am at home he is at my side or within reach constantly. He has never lied to me, betrayed me or turned his back on me when I made a mistake. He doesn't blame me for his screw-ups or take his problems out on me. And when I cried and cried yesterday in rage, cried as I have not in many years, in shock and sorrow and disbelief as Twyla sat in a numbed daze of unreality, he slobbered all over my face licking the tears away. He is just a little guy but his spirit is so gigantic. He looks like an example of what would happen if a silky terrier and a sasquatch got together. I suppose you could call him one of our first rescues, though it was just us wanting to get Twyla a puppy. I bought him for $250.00 out of the back of a van in the Westmount parking lot. It was like some sort of shady drug deal going down. There were shady characters trying to sell me this seven week old black bundle of fuzz and feces and tar. Brad kept asking "are you sure you really want this puppy?" But there was no way I was going to leave him behind. He was coming home with us, hell or high water. I guess this is the hell part. I have faced so many deaths in the last few years across every species. Some quick, some agonizingly slow. I just go on. But this time, I just can't picture life without Chester. I can't wrap my head around him not being here to yell at the other pups when he feels they are stepping out of line or starting the howling sessions when he thinks I've gone. I can't imagine sending him off into the dark all alone because he is so afraid of the dark and of being alone. I want to find a way to bind him to me, to keep him here. I want to go back two days and change everything. I hate yesterday. I hate it hateithateithateit. I couldn't talk and I couldn't answer the phone after one call from someone who asked why I was upset. I said I'd just come back from the vet and in this grating voice the person goes "Oh, is this about the dog? So you don't want me to come over?" I felt like going " No, I don't want you to ever darken my doorstep again you ignorant moron." Because in that one sentence she dismissed what I was feeling as somehow being irrelevant. As though the fact that he is of another species makes it something to be easily dismissed. Let me give you a piece of advice. When someone loses a companion of another species, don't ever go, not in your own mind, not to someone else and certainly not to the bereaved "It's just a dog or cat or horse or bird". If you are that stupid and cold, go away. And for myself, I can sincerely say stay away. I don't want you in my life if that is the extent of your compassion. I don't want dismissive gestures and flippant remarks of 'Oh, you'll get over it." Would you say that to someone who is losing a friend or family member. No. Well think again. You just did. Because I have to watch one of the best and most precious people I know die now. The fact that this person is not human is irrelevant. He has lymphatic cancer and so he doesn't have long. I am told that with a few thousand dollars I could extend his life up to a year with chemo treatments, but I do not have a few thousand dollars. Believe me, if I had that to spare I would do it just to spend a little while longer with my little man. Just to be able to feel him sleeping next to my head on my pillow with the light on because he had a bad dream. I love him no less than I would an adopted human child. Those of you who have never connected with another species or who were raised with the bizarre and sicko notion that animals have no souls will be thinking that the loss of a four legged child is not the same as losing a human in your life. You are wrong. How do you measure sorrow? How do you compare this love to that love? I was not able to have other children for whatever reasons. So I took in others as my children. To Twyla they are little brothers and sisters as close as...perhaps closer...than a blood/species sibling. And now we have to face the loss of one in a painful and monstrous manner. I can't even do anything until we get the final tests back in seven to ten days. I keep hoping that they will come back and say "We made a mistake...here's an antibiotic. Chester will be around for many more years.' But what they told us actually is there is virtually no hope. We will treat him with steroids which may give him a few more weeks and will still be expensive, but to the tune of hundreds and not thousands. And you can't imagine how much of a shit I feel like because I had to make that decision. I keep asking myself what I can do to fix this. What I might have done differently to change this. But all I feel is pain. And it is agony to know it is nothing like the pain my little man will go through all too soon. To know that if I had a million, million dollars, the result would be the same. I would still be losing my little child, Chester.

I invite you to walk with me along this path. I will keep a journal here of Chester's journey. Maybe if you feel like it, you could send a prayer out to the universe for him. Maybe it is a good thing that he can't know what is coming. That is a small mercy. But I know. I am so sorry, my little Chester.

Dr. Suzuki

2010-09-21T07:24:00.001-07:00

We spent last evening attending the Legacy lecture of Dr. David Suzuki. It was difficult to know how to feel as we left his book signing and wandered through the damp autumn night, through the UofA grounds (one of my favourite places in Edmonton). David Suzuki has been someone I have watched and admired pretty much throughout my life. His essays, books, articles, television and radio appearances have helped to shape and focus my thoughts and directed the path of my own research and studies. I've used his book, "From Naked Ape to Super Species" as a reference in my own teachings and lectures for years and told people who were interested in learning about Earth spirituality to turn not to warmed-over New Age silliness but to teachers such as Suzuki as guides to what a Guardian of the Earth should practice. Suzuki was there before Gore and Decaprio and the many voices we have now speaking out in the darkness to try to rally people before it is too late.
David Suzuki is a dynamic speaker. He never stops moving. His face is animated, his body language is graceful, like a dancer trying to get a point across. This is pretty good for a man in his mid seventies. His words were spoken as though he had mined my brain beforehand and I felt that I was not quite so alone, which I feel very much these days (Twyla being an exception). One of the things he said was that he had believed over time that reason and science and fact was enough to convince people that we are running out of time. His frustration was in earnest that fact and truth and science are not enough. People are complacent and they will grasp onto anything, even if it is utterly false, just so they won't have to get up and do anything. He left religion out of his lecture and I can certainly understand why. But I believe that religion is fundamentally at the core of what is happening. Or, putting it more succinctly, religious fundamentalism.
Dr. Suzuki spoke about his life and his fond memories of his boyhood, fishing with his father in rivers that, now, we would not dare to fish from because they are either poisoned or there simply are no fish. He spoke of his father and the fond memories they shared before his father passed away and how all of those memories were about times shared with family and friends and loved ones. He spoke of how none of those memories involved how much stuff they had accumulated over a lifetime. Dr. Suzuki spoke of how, upon reaching the age of seventy, he had realized that he was reaching the end of his life (hopefully not anytime soon because we so desperately need him now) and how he wanted to spread the message of his legacy. Though he spoke of being an elder, during his lecture, listening to his youngish sounding voice and watching his passionate gestures, you would never know it. But his hands, upon closer inspection, are bent with arthritis, making me wince at the thought of how many books he would be required to sign at the conclusion of his lecture. And his fatigue was clear during the book signing as people were ushered quite efficiently and politely through, though he had a quick smile for everyone. I'm sure that some people were annoyed at what they perceived as the abruptness of his helpers, for each wanted to share stories and exchange ideas. They don't know how exhausting it is to speak for a couple of hours and then have hours of work to do beyond that. There simply isn't time to have a meaningful chat with a few hundred individuals.
I bought Twyla, who adores Dr. Suzuki, the Legacy book (something I couldn't really afford but I wanted her to take this away with her and really remember it) and he signed it "To Twyla: For your legacy."
And that was what it was really all about. His words spoke of how we do not have the right to pilfer the future of our children and grandchildren all on our endless quest for stuff. We do not have the right to let religious maniacs, who not only expect, but desperately desire the world to end, to continue to rape the Earth and steal Her resources because they think they will be dragged up to heaven in some bizarre rapture and Earth will be destroyed anyway.
David Suzuki is not loved by governments, at least not his own or the one south of the border. He is not loved by corporation whose bottom line is growth. Dr. Suzuki waxed perhaps the most eloquent when he spoke of this non-sensical mind set, where the economy is always the bottom line. The economy is not the bottom line because without the Earth and her abundant, clean resources in tact, we will die. And what good will an economy be then?
When one man mentioned that the government is the enemy, Dr. Suzuki pointed out that the enemy are those who refuse to go out and vote. This is a sentiment I have espoused many times over, imploring people of sense and sanity to get out and vote for a government that will be at least marginally better. The claims that there is no one worth voting for is bulltwaddle. If you do not get out there and use the democratic gift of having a vote, you will lose it. Because that is where corruption starts to creep in. When people of good heart and conscience withhold their voice, then those with dark motives and hate filled hearts slither in and steal that voice of reason. People are often heard to say that here in Canada the Liberals and the Conservatives are equally corrupt, with parties that are scandal-filled. Let me remind you that you can vote green or socialist or independent. All I know is that when push came to shove, the Liberal government stood up to the American war machine and did not drag us into a war of lies that would have seen perhaps thousands of our own soldiers dead, maimed and ruined and our own treasury bankrupt ten times over. There was a spine that stood straight for Canadians and said, against much anger and retribution from our southern neighbours, that "as a matter of fact, we do require proof of your claims before we help you to invade a sovereign country without provocation and kill a few hundred thousand civilians and ruin a country". We can be proud that we had no hand in that at least. Stephen Harper would have had it different, I assure you.
We have now allowed a government that cares nothing for the environment to infest our halls of rule and law. We have never had a more morally corrupt and cynical group of fanatics in Ottawa. Stephen Harper and his hand-picked cadre of lackies are little more than petty criminals involved in wholesale theft of our children's future and their right to clean air, water and land. The government of Canada now allows so much corporate interference that those who have the courage to speak out and stand up for the safety and health of Canadian citizens are fired outright. We now live with policy that, instead of protecting our children from poisons in our food, in the air, in the water, says that a certain amount of collateral damage, in the form of Canadian lives, is okay. Not that it is unacceptable for one life to be affected when it didn't have to be, but that the bottom line is that a certain number of deaths and illnesses are expected and acceptable as long as the economy grows.
As Dr. Suzuki put it, this is madness. Sheer and utter madness. We cannot continue to "grow". There is nothing else that can be pulled from the Earth to satisfy our insatiable, gluttonous appetite for stuff. We cannot sustain the lifestyle that we in rich countries have adopted. We must draw the line and say no. We cannot keep buying, buying, buying exponentially because we are digging our own graves and what is unforgivable, what is beyond unconscionable is that we are digging the graves of those who will come after us, knowingly and without a shrug or thought.
When you buy something new, do you ever ask yourself where the components of that thing come from? Few do yet all should. It comes from resources that were taken from Earth. If you search far enough back, everything on this planet is organic or natural. Everything we have came at some point out of Earth and what She produced in her body. Stuff doesn't just magically appear out of nowhere. It is not delivered from outer-space. We take everything and replace it with poison and hate and disdain and contempt.
At the end of the lecture, as we were leaving, a woman stopped me. She had been talking to a young man and asked him what he thought we could do to save ourselves. He had shrugged and said that he thought we were doomed.
She seemed very upset by this and asked me what we could do. I said to her that I thought the young man was likely correct. That probably the best we could do is do the best you can and try to survive what is coming...what is here.
There is no happy chapter to this book. That is what James Lovelock called it in his last book. He talked about how, for years, all of these environmental warning books had a "happy chapter" at the end, where all of these dire warnings and evidence are laid out but at the end, there are solutions and a "reason for hope". There isn't much of that left right now. Religious fanatics hellbent on Armageddon and Corporate demons (sometimes one and the same) are orchestrating our destruction even as I write. And they placate us with stuff and entertain us with hedonism even as they kill us. There was an episode of 'Supernatural' ( Yes...I love Sam and Dean too) a while back that reminds me of this. It is about a Djin that captures victims and puts them into a sort of sleep...a controlled state of hypnosis where they get to experience wonderful things, living out what they think is their wish. They are happy and entertained. The problem is that in reality, their bodies are held captive by this monster, bound and unaware that he is slowly draining them of their blood, of their life. They don't even realize it is happening. And by the time they do realize that something is wrong, it is too late. They are already crossing over.
That is where most people are today. Even the people who sat in the audience with us, who were clearly moved and touched. I wonder how many of them will actually act on what is happening. Or will they quickly sink back into their dream state. Will they just go shopping and buy some nice things to decorate their fantasy and make their dream world more pleasant. Because that is the easier thing to do. To just say, things seem okay. We still have time. Will they be placated by the lies that are told to make them feel safe. Lies about Climate Change (it's a natural process), lies about the recovery of the economy (the answer is exponential growth) and lies about our health (the government is watching out for you).
The woman asked, and there was real fear in her eyes...isn't there anything we can do!?!
I said to her:
"Revolution"

I'm just sayin'...Thanks Dr. Suzuki. For trying.

What's on the menu: Noodle soup.
Listening to:Sherlock Holmes soundtrack
Goals: Cleaning honey ruzza-frazzin stickyness everywhere ~grrrr~
Viewing: X Files