The Living Mandala

2008-04-02T08:58:00.001-07:00

I've moved again. I was feeling constrained here- I felt like if I posted anything that didn't have to do with my practise then I was somehow misusing my blog. That said, I'll still be posting here for Buddhism related posts, but for those of you interested in tracking my day-to-day, you'll want to go here.

That is all.

2008-03-12T06:46:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot lately (unfortunately) about what bad things and unfortunate circumstances can teach us in our practise. Last weekend, after moving everything we own into our new house, we spent one night there, were over-run with mice, and thus subsequently moved everything we own OUT of the house and back into my parents' home. Unfortunately we spent hundreds of dollars fixing the house up, and simply couldn't afford to pay an exterminator to take care of the mouse issue. What we thought was going to be a couple mice turned out to be a couple dozen mice, and the one night our things were in that house resulted in thousands of dollars of damage to furniture and belongings. Since we just used all our money to fix up the house and move, we don't really have the funds to replace anything, so we're currently using a broken futon as a couch (since our beautiful antique couch is now a mouse condominium).

In conjunction with that, mix ups and unfortunate circumstances have resulted in my credit rating being shot to hell - how someone with absolutely no personal debt can have such a low credit score is beyond me. I supose it's a good thing though, because the temptation to take on debt to replace the broken futon is pretty tempting. I expect to fall through to the floor at any moment now.

I'm trying to have a positive outlook on all this. While it does make life harder, it also is a good lesson in non-attachment. I'm torn -on the one hand I feel like my inability to have new and pretty things means that I'm not providing for my daughter. On the other hand I feel like this is a GOOD thing. Perhaps Stella will learn a lesson that I never did - namely that 'stuff' doesn't make you happy. But while it's easy to convince a 3 month old of this lesson, I'm not sure how we'll fair when she's 13.

Ultimately, I'm being forced to reimagine what it is that I want out of life. And I see two visions here - on one hand I've finally found my passion, and know exactly how to get the job that would make me happy and content. Problem is, I suspect it pays lowsy. There seems to be that promise, lurking just out of sight at all times, of 'the job that pays well'. I know all I have to do is pick up a phone and my money problems are over.... trouble is, I have to do something that I really don't want to do for a living in order to get it. And while my Buddhist training is telling me that the ideas of non-attachment, right occupation and non-materialism should take precidence, I'm so TIRED of lying awake at night worrying about how we're going to be able to pay rent or what's going to happen when Stella wants to go to college.

2008-03-06T10:57:00.000-08:00

In a week filled with disappointments and regrets there is one thing that I continue to come back to that I am very grateful for. The smell of my child. A simple thing, yes. But the scent of her skin, like sour milk, salt and a faint hint of vanilla, makes my heart soar. I simply cannot be sad with her in my arms.

It doesn't get any better than this...

2008-02-20T14:41:00.000-08:00

Hanging out with my baby girl listening to Bob Marley. Life is grand.

2008-02-19T04:58:00.000-08:00

Our new house has a little mouse problem. Well, I guess it's only a problem if you don't want mice playing in your walls. I guess the more accurate way to say it is that *I* have a problem with the mice currently residing in our house. And while I totally get why they want to live inside our nice cozy, insulated walls, I'm not 'ok' with it. And while living with mice is nothing new to me (I'd say roughly 80% of the places I've lived I've shared with rodents - it's just what you DO in northern climates), I've never shared space with mice AND a baby. And while ordinarily I would just get some mouse traps and set them up, I'm really trying to up my karma, and I don't think squishing mice is the way to go about that.

It's like I want to sit them all down, and just let them know that they're more than welcome to hang out with me, if they'll be so kind as to not touch anything OUTSIDE of the wall area. Do you think that will work?

A Reflection on Parenting

2008-02-18T05:46:00.000-08:00

Almost every parent has hopes and dreams for their children. Most hope for their child to be successful and to 'have more than they did growing up'... whatever that means (because we're all so poor and oppressed here in North America). I've heard more than once that 'maybe Stella will be rich and she'll buy you a nice house to retire in'.

I certainly hope not.

No, the dreams that I have for my child are much different than those of most parents. I have no desire to see my daughter become 'rich'... rich people are unhappy. How do you think they GET rich to begin with? Through placing money and the pursuit thereof as foremost on their 'to do' lists. No, I wouldn't wish that on my child for anything. When I think of her future, the only dreams I see are that she grow up knowing that she's loved. And I mean really, unconditionally loved.

I was watching Dr. Phil the other day (ok, go ahead and laugh, but he's the only one in America with any sense!) and he had on a family where the daughter had gotten pregnant at 16. The father refused to speak to her, because she had 'shattered all his expectations of her'. I was overwhelmed by the need to go pick up my daughter, hug her, and tell her that no matter WHAT, I would NEVER just abandon her like that. Who am I to 'expect' things from her? Now, I'm not saying that I HOPE my daughter becomes a teenage mother - far from it! But if that's something that she's dealt in her life, I'll be right there with the huggies and the baby wipes, every step of the way.

I had a pretty ok childhood, all things considered. And I think my parents did a lot of things right. First and foremost, they let me be myself, without trying to fit me into a mould of 'the perfect child'. No, I'm not a doctor (not yet) or a lawyer, I don't have a lot of money, and I've made a lot of mistakes in my life. But you know, I have a really strong sense of myself and, more importantly, I'm HAPPY. I wouldn't trade the life I have for anything in the world. Well, maybe I'd get rid of my student debt (damn OSAP, the monthly payments are the same as a mortgage payment!), but everything else is exactly what I imagine happiness to be. It's taken me a while (probably because I never had anyone tell me 'this is what you should do'), but I'm finally starting to figure things out. And because I've done it on my own, I know for certain that the choices I've made were the right ones. And THAT is all I want for my daughter.

A Meditation on Location

2008-02-10T09:57:00.000-08:00

I'm beginning to get the twitch to move away from my small little town. Sure, we've got some of the best wild spaces in Canada only a stones throw from our front door. If you want to go camping it's literally a half hour drive to a remote location that's totally isolated from the modern world. And don't even get me started on the many oportunites for bigfoot sighting. Unfortunately, while these things all make for a really great vacation spot, they don't make for a very convenient place to live.

First, and more trivially, I'm starting to get frustrated at the lack of employment options in any field other than 'telephone sales agent' or 'counter attendant'. I'm doing a masters degree - I want jobs like 'researcher' and 'head of public relations'. Not to mention that my chosen field - wildlife conservation/conservation awareness - is something that most of my neighbours regard as 'hippy nonsense'. I know I'm not going to find a job that I enjoy doing unless I move about 2500km's in a westerly direction.

On a more serious note, I'm also having a really hard time with the lack of a buddhist community anywhere within an 800km radius. I have so many questions and I really feel that I need a serious teacher if I'm going to move forward in my practise. Indeed, the sangha is one of the main components to Buddhist practise. Without a spiritual community, one becomes isolated and practising seriously becomes really difficult. I strongly feel that in another life my place was in a monastary - indeed, if I didn't have my little family, that's where I'd be today.

When I sat down to write this post I had an entirely different topic in mind. Funny how things just flow from you without your even knowing that they're there. Remind me tomorrow to talk about anger- the post which I was 'trying' to write the first time.

2008-02-07T04:43:00.000-08:00

I've got a rare moment where the babe is sleeping in her bassinet, rather than attached to me, so I thought I would post. The last week has been pretty chaotic around here, with the baby deciding that if she isn't touching someone 100% of the time, life isn't worth living. We have however started almost sleeping through the night. By allowing her to cosleep with me from the very beginning of the night, we're getting about 6 hours straight sleep. Of course, that's with a baby on my stomach, but she's happy and I get sleep, so who can complain, right? I continue to be convinced that my attatchment parenting methods are producing a fabulous little person, and I'm glad that we've made the choices we have.

Now that the baby update is out of the way, I wanted to share a moment of 'accidental dharma', which I may write up a little better and send over to Peter at the Accidental Dharma blog (go visit, it's a good read).

Anyway, as many of my readers know, my husband and I are currently living with my family. Lately we've been feeling the itch to GET OUR OWN PLACE ALREADY (!!), and so we were looking at buying, since the rental market here is ludicrous. I've been putting off the idea of buying a house because we're so uncertain about where we want to be in 5 years that I didn't want to buy a house only to have to sell it in 6 months because we're moving across the country. But, since we've been looking for a rental for the better part of a year and haven't found anything suitable, buying seemed to be the only option.

We spent almost two weeks dealing with banks and mortgage brokers and the general nonsense involved in borrowing money. And, after getting approved, the bank promptly took back their approval when they found out I was on maternity leave (something I told them up front, but that apparently got lost in the confusion of 26 different people looking at our application). We were pretty crushed, because we thought that we'd have to stay with my parents until I got a job again (something I wasn't planning to do for another 2 years). It seemed that once again I was going to have to put aside my goals of going to grad school, go get another unsatisfying job, and put my child in daycare - all things that we were passionate about avoiding.

I was feeling pretty down about the whole thing when my husband called me from work to say that his boss, who has a few rental properties just had once become vacant. She would rent it to us for less than we would have been paying for a mortgage, and would we be interested in taking a look at it. We immediately went to look at it, and it's just perfect for our little family. A cute little 3 bedroom,with a nursery for the baby off the master bedroom. We'll finally have a yard and a garden and our own space to come home to. And the best part is, when we're tired of living here and want to move away, we don't have to sell it.

I don't know why I ever doubt that the universe provides. Sometimes, when what we want so badly is denied to us, it's hard to see that it might be because something better is just around the corner. I have a really hard time letting go of my idea of what my life 'should' be, and I often find myself frustrated that a situation hasn't turned out the way that I've hoped. I'm regularly (and sometimes brutally) confronted with the fact that expectations only lead to suffering, and as soon as I've made peace with the fact that what I want really isn't going to happen, something even better tends to drop out of the sky. That's been the story of my life so far, and you'd think that after nearly 25 years of the same lesson over and over and over again, I'd finally get it!

Today's lesson: Attachments and desires = suffering and pain. Class dismissed.

Happy One Month my Little One

2008-01-31T06:12:00.000-08:00

Today my daughter is officially one month old. I can't believe we made it through the infamous first month with everyone intact! I have to say that no amount of anything could have prepared me for what it was like living with a newborn (except maybe trench warfare). Who knew that babies were different than children? Children I can handle...babies.... REALLY HARD (although, I will say, not as hard as a new puppy - at least infants don't chew your coffee table, and they wear diapers so that you aren't constantly cleaning poop off your floors).

Perhaps the reason that I found the first month's adjustments so difficult is because I practise a sort of extreme attachment parenting. I don't subscribe to the nonsense about letting children 'cry it out.' I never leave my daughter alone for longer than it takes me to pee. Most of her day is spent sleeping on a family member, talking to a family member, or be carried around by a family member. At night she sleeps beside me, often with my hand in her little bassinet, her fingers wrapped around my thumb. I do my very best to listen to what she's trying to communicate, and then fix whatever problem she might have. Maybe because of my intense commitment to this, she doesn't really cry. The longest she's ever cried is *maybe* two minutes at a time, a couple times a day. And I could count the number of times on one hand that she's really had a crying spell. Normally her displeasure is made apparent by little grunts, and the grunts sound different for each complaint she might have - hungry, wet diaper, dirty diaper, gas, just wanting a hug, etc. After one month of living together, I think I'm pretty good at disciphering her grunts, and thus can head off any further shows of displeasure by taking care of the cause of the grunts post haste.

As well as being an extraordinarily good natured baby, she's also an extraordinarily dextrous child, and has been since birth. At her 3 day check up with our midwife, she interwove her fingers and placed her folded hands on her chest in the classic pose of patience the entire time our midwife was listening to her heart beat. Of course our midwife was floored, because babies aren't supposed to be capable of something like this until around the six month mark. Just to prove it wasn't a fluke, Stella has done it over and over and over again - usually while eating a bottle, and generally it seems to be a symbol of her contentment. She also is already capable of grabbing bottles and pacifers (and fingers) and pushing them into her mouth, taking them out again, waving them around a bit, and then replacing them in her mouth. Again, a feat not supposed to be possible for several months. And, at the risk of sounding like a bragging parent, she's also capable of holding her head up on her own for several seconds at a time, and has been since birth. It's like she's deliberately trying to defy the baby books.

Perhaps it's because of these spectacular and stunning demonstrations of individuality, but ever since the first few days home I've had such a sense that she's a real little PERSON, with a personality and an intellegence already fully formed and waiting to break free. I don't feel for her at all the way I've felt about other newborns. She doesn't respond well to the typical things that entertain babies - she HATES baby talk or baby games, doesn't like being read to from children's books (although grown up stories are fine) and will not tolerate any sort of suggestion that she's anything other than an autonomous human being. I often find myself engaged in conversation with her the same way I would be with another adult, reading her expressions as answers to my questions. She decides when it's time for a bath, time for a bottle, time for some family cuddle time, etc. Lots of people tell me that I'm spoiling her and she'll become an unruly toddler, but I think the fact that she doesn't cry and is apparently a very content little baby indicates that in fact it's quite the opposite. By allowing her to make choices within the confines of a predetermined set of boundaries, even at this age, she is developing a sense of trust in her family, as well as a sense of who she is.

This is the same sort of system as recommended by Myla and Jon Kabat-Zinn their book Everyday Blessings: the Inner Work of Mindful Parenting. It's the same system that my mom used to raise me, more or less, and I think it's an excellent model for parenting children in a way that allows them the freedom to be who they're meant to be, while still providing loving guidance. Although the book is based on buddhist ideals, it's full of great advice for all parents, and I urge you to read it if you have, or will have, children.

That said, as much as I want her to be her own little person, I'm not looking forward to the day when I can no longer dress her in super cute little outfits of my choosing. :) The hoodies with little ears on them - priceless!

A really great bookend to 2007

2008-01-15T05:29:00.001-08:00

A few weeks ago I wrote a post for 'accidental dharma' about what being pregnant had taught me. And while yes, many excellent lessons were learned during the last nine months, nothing could have prepared me for the whiplash inducing pace of lesson after lesson heaped upon me during labour, childbirth, and the days immediately following. My labour experience taught me, in a very real and crushing way, to have no expectations. I'd like to share with you our birth experience. It is, in and of itself, long enough to be a stand alone post. I'll write another post tomorrow about the dirth of dharma that accompanied it.

Dec 30, 2007
At about 1:30pm, while sitting in bed surfing the internet (pretty much all I did for the last 2 weeks of pregnancy) I felt a little gush between my legs. My first thought was 'did I just pee myself?' I know about 'water breaking' but this didn't feel like 'enough' fluid to be amniotic fluid, so I was a little confused. I went to the bathroom and broke out the amnicator swab that my midwife had provided me with so that I could check any suspicious leaks to see if they were amni fluid. As soon as I swabbed, the little stick turned black, indicating that it was, indeed, amniotic fluid. But the flow had stopped, and so I didn't know what to do. I deliberated for about an hour, as my usual midwife was out of town for the holidays, but finally relented under pressure from my mother to call the on-call midwife and get her opinion.
She said that she'd think about what she'd like me to do, and call me back. I was hoping and planning for a homebirth, and I still had one more week to go before I was in the 'safe' zone for such things.
An hour later she called me back and told me to head in to the hospital. They were going to induce labour if things didn't get started on their own, since a tear in the amniotic sack can lead to lots of problems. So, I packed my bags and headed in to labour and delivery, fully convinced that my body would do what it was supposed to, and I'd still have my natural birth, even if it WAS in the hospital.

7:00pm - I'm feeling little contractions, but nothing major. I'm not dilating, and labour does not seem to be starting. The on call OB decides to let my try to labour overnight on my own, and if no progress is made, we'll have to start an induction in the morning. The contractions are just enough to keep me in a constant state of 'uncomfortable'.

10:00pm - They make my husband go home, and I'm all alone, scared, and pretty upset sitting there in my hospital bed. Every 4 hours a nurse comes in and pokes me and takes vitals, making sleep impossible, even though they've given me enough tranquilizers to knock out a hippo.

Dec 31
7:00am - My husband returns, as does my midwife. They check me, and since I've been contracting all night I'm really hoping I've made some progress. Not so. I'm still tightly closed and my body isn't doing what it's supposed to be doing to get a baby out. They start a pitocin drip in the hopes that my contractions will start to pick up. Bye bye natural labour. I'm still convinced that I can do it without an epidural though. I have their assurances that once I'm in real active labour we can abandon the pitocin and let my body do it's thing.

10:00am - Just sitting in the hosptial bed, still not really feeling much. The machine says I'm contracting, but I'm not really feeling it. The midwife tells me to get up and walk around to help move contractions along. Since I'm hooked up to a billion machines, this is easier said than done. Once we finally get all the wires sorted out, the husband and I start wandering the halls.
Walking makes the contractions strong enough to feel, and for the first time I'm starting to think I'm in labour. For the next several hours we alternate between walking (which I really don't like) and laying in the hospital bed.

2:00pm - The pitocin dosage is pretty high at this point, and I'm definitely feeling it. I move to the birth ball, but the act of sitting means that I can't keep the monitors in the right place for them to hear the baby's heartbeat. Instead of being able to focus and work through the contractions, I'm forced to hold the stupid paddles in place, and every 10 seconds move them around because the baby has squirmed away and the act of her moving means that we can't hear her heartbeat, and a bunch of alarms go off.

3:00pm - I have a breakdown because all I want to do is breath through contractions and focus on labour, but I have to hold these stupid paddles in place. I say there's no way I'm going to keep holding these damn paddles, and that I don't care if they can't hear her heartbeat. If they want me to continue with labour, they need to figure out how to do it without me holding these things. I'm getting frustrated and angry at this point, which the midwife takes to mean that I'm really in labour, so they move me to the birthing room.

4:00pm - They check me, after 9 hours of a heavy pitocin drip. I'm now 1cm dilated. One. I start to cry, totally frustrated and exhausted from what is now 24 hours of labour. The midwife and OB conference, and it's decided that they'll give me until 8pm to get the baby out. After that, if I've not made real progress, we're going to be forced to do a c-section. It's now been over 24 hours since my membranes ruptured, and the risk of infection goes up exponentially from here. At this point, the risk to the baby is too high to continue playing around. I'm so exhausted and frustrated that I don't even care. I'm alternating between being really depressed and being really motivated. I can't really describe the feelings, but at the top of my list was an overwhelming sense of failure.

4:30pm - To hopefully speed things up, the OB ruptures what's left of my membranes. A lot of fluid comes out, which indicates that I just had a little tear. As soon as he does this, my body is racked by one continuous excruciating contraction. I'm in overwhelming pain, and it's everything I can do to stay conscious. It seems that THIS is what people are talking about when they say a pitocin induction is hell.

5:00pm - After half an hour of this, I realize that I just can't continue to labour without an epidural, especially since there's no way of knowing how long it's going to be. If nine hours resulted in 1cm, how long will I need to labour to get to 10cm?? I relent and begin to beg for an epidural. I'm crying as he puts it in, as much from the emotion of again, feeling like I've failed, as from the excrutiating pain. The epidural was the worst pain I felt in the entire process. But, as soon as it's in it's absolute bliss. For the first time in over 24 hours I feel calm. At this point I realise how many little aches and pains I've been carrying around with me for the last several months. For the first time in over half a year, I'm not in excruiating back pain. I ask my husband if we can have epidural drips installed in our home.

Now that the epidural is in, they kick up my pitocin to epic proportions, hoping to kick start a really good labour.

5:15pm - Alarms start going off. My blood pressure plummets to a dangerous low. The baby's heartbeat slows to a dangerous level. The epidural has made my blood pressure drop, causing the baby to go into distress. A team of nurses and doctors runs into the room, and starts flipping me around to get the baby to respond. I'm hooked up to oxygen to hopefully get some oxygen to the baby. There's talk of an emergency c-section. After a few minutes though, my blood pressure comes back up, and the baby's heart rate returns to normal. All the nurses leave. I flip back over onto my back, and the baby's heart rate falls again. Apparently I'll have to stay on my right side for the rest of the labour process.

6:00pm - Now that I'm calm I can focus on the task at hand. I absolutly refuse to have a c-section, so I begin to do visualization and meditation exercises. Unfortunately, the epidural has caused all contractions to stop. My midwife tells me that there's no way that I'm going to dilate 9cm in 2 hours without contractions. She begins preparations for a c-section. I sign the consent form, and then return to focusing on my body. I can do this. I have a dialogue with the baby, asking her to help, to move downward, to work with me.

7:30pm - I start to feel something. I'm not sure what it is, but it feels like someone has their hands in my vagina and is stretching. I tell my midwife. She says that maybe it's the baby finally moving into position and we'll start to see some dilation. I say this feels like it's external, not up high. She tells me that 'stretching is not what we want. Let me know when you feel pressure'. I say this definitely isn't 'pressure', so she says that it's not time yet. She goes to find the OB, so that he can check me in a few minutes, to confirm that I've not made any progress, and so we can begin a c-section.

7:55 - I tell the midwife that, ok, it's not pressure, but I feel SOMETHING very strongly, and I feel VERY uncomfortable. I tell her that I think she had better check me, because something is happening. She relents, I think more to shut me up than anything else. As soon as she gets her hands down there her face pales. 'You're almost totally dilated, and the baby's head is right there. (man has she got a lot of hair!) You just have a tiny little lip of cervix left. I can't believe it. You weren't even contracting, how did this happen?!' She tears out of the room to find the OB because I'm going to have this baby any minute. I'm overwhelmed. I can't believe we did it. I instantly start feeling the pressure they were talking about, and I'm overcome with the urge to push.

8:00 - My midwife comes back, and the OB will be in in a few minutes. I don't think he really believed her when she said I was going to deliver any second.

8:20 - I can't hold it in anymore, and the OB still isn't there. I tell my midwife that I can't keep fighting the urge to push. The baby's coming out whether they like it or not. She tells me, rather concerned, that I can't start pushing yet. She checks me, and the lip of cervix is gone and the baby is RIGHT there. I tell her I'm pushing whether they like it or not, so she best get a doctor in there now. She tells me I can't start pushing until the NICU team is there, because technically the baby is early and could have problems breathing. I yell back that they'd better get there fast then, because I'm pushing. I start to do little pushes whenever I feel the contractions that apparently aren't happening.

8:30 - The NICU team and the OB arrive. As soon as they get in the room, I start pushing with everything I have. They keep telling me to do this, or do that, or put my hands here, etc, but I'm in my own world. I'm totally ignoring their orders and pushing when and how I feel like it.

8:50pm - Baby Stella is born. After only 20 minutes of pushing, my little 6 pound 5 ounce miracle arrives. My husband cuts her cord. They lay her on my chest while they cut the cord, and man is the cord ever short. She's crying, but sort of quietly and is pretty weak. The NICU team takes her, and as soon as they get her she starts screaming. My husband goes over to the table with her and starts taking pictures while they clean her up and check her over. I'm so absorbed by this that I don't notice there's a team of people still focusing on me. I direct my attention to them, and I hear words like 'prolapsed' and 'hemoraging'. Apparently I'm losing a lot of blood, and they can't find my uterus. They think it's slipped down into the birth canal. If they can't stop the flow of blood, I'm going to need emergecy surgery. After about 10 minutes they get it under control. They stop the bleeding and I get to hold my little girl for a few minutes before they take her to the NICU to make sure she's ok. My husband goes with her so that they can weigh her and check her vitals properlly. She doesn't get to nurse, which I'm very upset about.

9:30pm - They remove my epidural and I'm instantly fine. It's supposed to take up to 5 hours to wear off, but it took about 3 minutes. I'm up and walking around in about 10 minutes.

10:30pm - I finally get the ok to go to the NICU to visit Stella. She's in an incubator just to make sure that she's warm enough, and hooked up to 3 different monitors making sure that she's breathing fine and that all her organs are working. We spend about a half hour just adoring her before I'm finally too exhausted and need to head back to the room. I don't sleep the whole night because I can't bear to be apart from my daughter. The next morning we get the ok to bring her to our room, and we haven't been apart since.

Stella's birth was an amazing lesson in having no expectations. It was definitely not the natural homebirth I had hoped for for my daughter, and I'm convinced that the reason Stella doesn't breastfeed is because of the trauma she suffered at the hands of the maternity nurses. Regardless of whether my hopes or expectation have been met, Stella is a fabulous little baby. She's happy and alert full of personality. She rarely cries, and when she does she's instantly soothed by contact with my husband and I. She sleeps next to us at night, and is attached to a family member for most of the day. Our first weeks home have been one lesson after another, but that's a whole other post.

Welcome to the world little one.

2008-01-10T08:29:00.000-08:00

I have so many things I want to say, but I don't have the time to write them. Having a newborn at home is a great lesson in living in the present. You cannot dwell on the past, nor can you plan for the future - you simply are too tired, and anyway, your plans never turn out how you expected.

I'm working on a post about her birth - please be patient.

2008-01-05T03:24:00.000-08:00

Sorry, it'll be a while until I'm able to write again. A little someone arrived early. :)

call for compassionate action

2007-12-27T11:51:00.000-08:00

I posted earlier this morning about the situation faced by (sadly) the majority of animals in Canadian zoos. Please visit this link and send the Ontario government a letter demanding new laws to bring Ontario up to standard in animal welfare legislation. At present, it is not illegal to own exotic animals in Ontario, nor does it require a license. There is no minimum standard of care for animals in captivity aside from the very vague requirements of 'food, water and shelter'. Zoos are not licensed, inspected, nor held accountable to any governing agency.

Zoos, circuses, exhibits and private collectors who are responsible in their husbandry and keeping of their animals should be 100% on board with the proposed legislation, as should every member of the public. As someone who shares her home with exotic animals, I strongly support tougher legislation. In the past (and I assume, unless something changes, the future) my home has been a halfway house for animals dumped on me by people who purchased them because they were 'cool', but realized too late that they didn't know how to care for that reptile or parrot or other exotic. Had there been some sort of licensing system in place, these people may never have purchased these animals, and they would have saved a lot of pain for a lot of animals and people.

Please, I urge you to take action.

2007-12-27T05:06:00.000-08:00

Having worked in a zoo setting before, I'm all too familiar with the balancing act that goes on between providing an entertaining experience for zoo visitors and providing a safe and healthy atmosphere for everyone in attendance (humans and animals alike). That's why the story of Tatiana, the siberian tiger who mauled 3 people Christmas day at the SF Zoo is so unsettling to me. This tiger had a history of being unsettled, and had previously mauled a keeper who hadn't respected her boundaries and got too close. As someone who has worked in this industry, you'd be amazed at the number of times in a day that zookeepers take risks with their own safety and 'trust' animals that they really shouldn't. Just because an animal is in a zoo setting does NOT mean that they're friendly towards people (as the case with Tatiana shows). Very often in fact these animals hold a grudge towards humans as their captors. They know that the reason they're behind bars being poked at by small children all day is because people put them there. So can we really be surprised when, given the opportunity, they lash out at their captors?

Several times in my career caring for reptiles and birds I put myself in a situation where I wasn't comfortable because it was what was 'expected' of me. I shouldn't have to respect the boundaries set by the animals - I'm the human, I should set the boundaries. That's the predominant view held by any zoo that I've ever had dealings with. This is a dangerous dangerous outlook and will necessarily result in the death of animals AND people. If we insist on keeping animals in zoo settings (which I'm very divided on, just for the record), then we obviously need to do so in a much more humane and respectful way. If we are to bring these animals into our lives we owe them the respect shown to other human beings, at the very least.

If you want to see the only zoo that I feel is making concerted steps in the right direction I urge you look into the Australia Zoo, formerly run by the late Steve Irwin. The man was a beautiful soul dedicated to helping humans and animals live in a mutually beneficial relationship. His interactions with animals showed the world that you need not overpower or coerce animals into compliance - simple respect for how they see the world is enough. His wife Terri and his daughter Bindi have continued his legacy and it brings me great joy to see someone as young as Bindi leading this crusade. I've worked my whole life with animals and there are things that this little girl is miles ahead of me on already.

As this new year approaches, I urge you take the time to think about how our species treats the rest of the animal kingdom. If you visit a zoo this year, please ask them what sorts of measures they take to insure that the spiritual and emotional well being of the animals is being met. Ask them their policies on how they perform routine maintenance in enclosures or health checks on the animals. Go here to make a difference in the life of a zoo animal.

If you have animals in your own home, vow to make their lives just a little better this year. An animal that harms humans is one who's needs are not being met. Animals, like humans, all have the capacity to be happy and balanced - if you live with an animal, you owe it to them to aid them in this. If we take responsibility for putting them in captivity, we owe it to them to keep them safe and happy. If an animal attacks a human, it's the human who made the mistake, not the animal.

2007-12-24T06:49:00.001-08:00

This has nothing to do with anything, other than the fact that I love The Christmas Carol (particularly the version done by 'the Muppets', although the book was good too). ;)

Similar, except not immaculate conception

2007-12-24T00:00:00.000-08:00

It's Christmas eve morning and I'm awake at (now) 3am with contractions. I awoke about a half an hour ago when the contractions actually invaded a dream I was having. In the dream I was standing there, having a conversation with someone, when I was suddenly hit by a contraction strong enough that I had to sit down. So, in my dream, I did. I woke up a couple minutes later to another (the same?) contraction in real life. Funny how that works.

Anyway, I've been having moments of contractions this whole pregnancy (well, starting at 25 weeks) - little annoying tightenings accompanied by mild ache. These are different. They start in my legs and I feel like I've been running a marathon. All the muscles of my legs contract. After they finish it moves to my back, where there's a dull throb for about 30 seconds... and then I'm hit with the overwhelming sensation that I'm being bear hugged by a giant. They don't hurt per say, massive discomfort would be more apporpriate. All the while I'm also really feelin the urge to throw up (which I will NOT do... much like Seinfeld, I'm on a no-vomit streak since 1992). I intend to be the only woman ever to make it through pregnancy, labour and delivery without puking.

So, while I really doubt that I'm in labour (I've had so many little episodes of contractions that I think it might actually take a baby head emerging before I'll accept that I am indeed in REAL labour this time), I am definitely in discomfort. And sitting like this is not helping.... I don't know whether to walk around like I feel the urge to do, because that might make the contractions stronger (something I don't want, as I don't want my little one here yet.... she still has 2 more weeks before I'm cleared for a homebirth). Maybe I'll try laying down again.

I'll keep y'all posted.

QUICK UPDATE (8:40am)
I don't think we're lookin at a Christmas baby (thank goodness!) The contractions have spaced out. They're not totally gone, but they aren't regular anymore and they've gotten all wonky (sometimes now it's just the leg cramps or just the abdominal/back cramps) so it doesn't seem like labour to me. Hopefully they're doing things though. It'd be awesome if when I DO go into labour I'm already halfway dilated. :)

music, it is in my soul

2007-12-22T15:44:00.000-08:00

I've written a few times about how essential music is to my life. I am, however, currently in somewhat of a music shortage. Because I always have my ipod with me or music playing in the background of everything I do, I come to associate certain songs with certain times in my life. I know most people do this, but I think I feel it more strongly than most. For example, the last two years of my life (well, the two years prior to summer 2007) were some of the darkest moments I've ever experienced. I can honestly say that if I hadn't gotten pregnant, I likely wouldn't be here typing to you now. Several of my very favorite albums of that time, songs and artists that inspired me to keep going, I just can't listen to anymore. The sounds transport me back so fully to a time when I was incapable of anything other than polluting myself that I just can't face those songs. I'm at such a different place now - a happy, joyous, celebratory place - that I can't imagine finding any comfort in these songs anymore. It's almost as though I left the bits of me that I never ever want back, in little pieces, scattered in amongst the notes of those albums. To listen to the songs brings back, little bit by little bit, pieces of the person that I no longer have any desire to be.

On the one hand, this makes me a little sad. I have hundreds of hours worth of music that I just can't bring myself to listen to - songs and albums that were there for some very important moments in my life. But on the other hand, I now get to discover some new music. :) Any suggestions?

Meditation on anger

2007-12-22T14:58:00.000-08:00

I am my father's daughter. Growing up my father and I often got into conflict, and when we did, we both would raise our voices in anger, trying to one up each other in an argument that very often ended with one or the other of us saying something incredibly hurtful just to try to best the other. No one ever 'won' these fights, and both of us would usually sulk away and slam a door, leaving the other to stew in their anger. Occassionally things would get so bad that we wouldn't speak to each other for days at a time.

I know that things were like this for as long as I can remember, and my first real memory of one of these fights was when I was about 5. I stormed out of our apartment and screamed obscenities at him in the hallway of the apartment building. As soon as I had done it I knew it would be huge. I remember running as fast as I could for the exit door at the end of that hallway, praying that I would make it outside before he caught up with me. I didn't, of course, since I was only five and my father is a big man. He grabbed me, dragged me back into the apartment, and I got the only spanking of my childhood that I still remember. I probably still remember it because I think it was the only time my father hit me out of anger, and not out of a genuine desire to discipline me and teach me a lesson.

When I was younger I saw my father as a strong man. Someone who others didn't mess with. As I got older, I saw the weakness in my father's attitude. It's not strength to let anger control you. It's not strength to lash out at those you love. To allow your emotions to take such a strong hold on you is the ultimate weakness.

Tonight, for the first time, when my father lost his temper at me, I didn't lash out back with hateful words. I simply stated (perhaps more forcefully than I meant to or should have) that I didn't need this kind of atmosphere of anger around me. I think the effect of my refusal to breakdown was even worse than if I had. For the first time while he raged, I saw recognition on my father's face that he knew he was not behaving with strength of character. For the first time, when my father lashed out at me with hateful words, I did not feel anger or fear, but pain and sadness. I felt genuine compassion for a man who has no idea how else to deal with his anger and frustration at himself than to lash out at those around him. It makes me sad to think that his soul is so disquieted, and I don't know how to help him find some measure of peace. I wish I could.

2007-12-20T06:31:00.001-08:00

I'm preparing my birthing space, trying to make it an organic, comfy, happy, inspirational place. In doing so I decided that I needed a fishy to complete the space. What kind of fish should I get? It's rapidly going from 'a gold fish in a little bowl' to hauling out my old 75 gallon and filling it with beautiful ocean life. I'm bad at doing things in a small way.

They do not, in fact, eat Fruit Loops I'm told.

2007-12-19T08:25:00.000-08:00

I just love this picture. The weather here is all grey and cold and unfriendly today, and this picture instantly transports me to somewhere tropical. Nevermind that I took it in Niagara Falls on our honeymoon... it LOOKS like somewhere tropical!

I took this shot at a huge indoor aviary that I made my husband visit with me on our stop over in Niagara. I've always loved birds, and a whole BUILDING full of them was a dream come true. If I had my druthers I'd live in a place like this (they also had a room full of bats that my husband had to physically drag me out of).

"I hope you kids like geometry because we're comin' at ya from all angles'

2007-12-15T15:39:00.000-08:00

I seem to have writer's block. I've been trying to write a post for a top secret (not really) blog project that I've been asked to participate in, and I can't seem to say what I want to say. I sit there for a while staring at the screen, write a few words.... and then delete them. I'll get there eventually I'm sure, but I have no idea what this whole thing is about. I'm NEVER like this, especially when I have a topic.

So, in an effort to get the juices flowing, I thought I'd take a break and come over here and write a little something. I've had a busy couple of days, which is a huge departure from my normal routine. Today has been spent in a frantic 'nesting' cyclone, setting up my birthing space before the chaos of the holidays takes over. It still needs some work to make it the comfy, inviting atmosphere that I'm looking to achieve, but we're getting there.

Last night the husband and I FINALLY got around to going out for a night of music. We went to one of our favorite haunts (a nice little martini bar/jazz lounge) in support of my friends' band who happened to be the musical guest of the evening. Check these guys out here, if you want a great, family friendly, funky, dance-inducing time! The whole time we were there my little one wouldn't stop dancing up a storm inside of me. By the time we left my ribs were mighty sore from the jig she did to one of the fiddle tunes. She also appears to enjoy some nice Johnny Cash, a new development given that previously her taste has drifted more towards reggae and hip hop.

I couldn't be a happier momma... I'm so pleased that my little girl seems to really enjoy a good tune. Music is so essential to my life, and the life of my husband (and, I suppose, to the life we've built together!) that I don't know what I'd do if she was indifferent. Yup, music and animals, those are the two things that I hope I can instill a love of in her life. If I can do that, I've succeeded as a parent.

2007-12-13T08:51:00.000-08:00

As the due date for my daughter approaches, I can't help but think of much else. I've packed a bag with essentials should we need to birth in hospital, but I've also got my home birth kit prepared and ready to go. I wrote previously about my desire to birth at home, and today, as one of my internet friends goes through the experience unaided, I'm only renewed in that desire. The negativity surrounding her decision to birth her child without the aid of a doctor is astounding to me. Childbirth is a natural process, and is not a medical condition. Why have we, as women, lost faith in the process? Perhaps it's that most women have no spiritual center - nothing to draw upon, and so they put their faith in the medical establishment instead. If I didn't have a powerful sense of myself and faith that I am all I need, then I can imagine how terrifying this time might be.

When talking to a friend today about the fact that my body is preparing for labour (it won't be long now!) she asked me how I was feeling about the whole thing. She then caught herself and said 'wait, you're not afraid, I know that!' And she's right. Because I have a connection with my body, and faith in its abilities. A simple mindful meditation everyday has put me in touch with all the changes happening. It astounds me to think of what my body is doing and what it's capable of. I'll catch myself doubting something, only to have it confirmed by my midwife. The simple practise of quieting my mind and listening to the process within has given me all the guidance and preparation that I need. As I go forward, I intend to approach the birth of my daughter with this same calm and centered attitude. I trust in myself, and I trust in my daughter. Together we will meet the challenge ahead, and we will succeed.

My, what big puns you have grandma!

2007-12-11T05:10:00.001-08:00

The other night we were all sitting around the dinner table, having our traditional Sunday family gathering when my grandfather asked my little sister how she was making out with her final essays of the university semester. My sister responded by saying that she had just gotten an 'A' on her last paper. My grandmother asked her what it was about.

My sister replied "I had to discuss the themes of God and divinity as they applied to the understanding of self in The Epic of Gilgamesh, Oedipus Rex and The Illiad." My grandmother looked puzzled for a moment, shrugged, and then replied 'Hm. Well, it's all greek to me'.

I swear to you, true story.

The Ark - an introduction

2007-12-08T05:54:00.000-08:00

I've written about the animals that live with me before in passing. This isn't quite fair to them because they all play a very important role in my day to day life. I've also left out some of the minor characters in our little menagerie, simply because they're generally unassuming and very easily go unnoticed. Today I endeavor to change that. Consider this your official introduction to all things furred, feathered and scaled in our household. I feel remiss in that I haven't done this sooner, since really, they're just as important in my life as any human member of my family.

The Dogs

There are two distinct packs that live with me at the moment. I come with my little family unit, and since we live with my parents at the moment, we've been forced to combine our little pack with their resident canines. The problem is that they don't all get along very well, and we can mix and match in careful bunches, but trying to put everyone together all at the same time results in chaos and in fighting. So, the vast majority of the time my little pack is separate from my parents' pack.

My Pack (or, the old Spinsters)

Mojo

Mojo is a 6.5 year old mutt that I got from the local SPCA shortly after graduating highschool. She's almost 90lbs but really doesn't understand her own size. She throws her weight around to try to hold you down for more lovin'. She's an absolute doll to every human she meets, and has no reservations about strangers. Everyone is equally fantastic in Moj's books. She has a tendancy to be stand-offish with other dogs, simply because she doesn't like playing contact sports, and most other dogs seem to want to jump all over her. Actually, come to think of it, Moj likes being touched on her terms, and ONLY her terms, no matter who's doing the touching. If you try to kiss her on the nose, she'll growl at you and try to pull her face away, just like a teenager who's mom is trying to kiss them in public. Mojo is my big baby and totally the love of my life. She sheds like no dog I've ever seen, and for some reason always smells like chicken soup. Her favorite food is the paper wrapping that comes at the bottom of muffins or cupcakes.

Roxy

Roxy is a 6 year old Siberian Husky that I got from a racing kennel just outside of town. She was the most adorable little ball of fluffy when I picked her up, and she is responsible for my now uncurable love of huskies. She looks exactly like her mother, and has the disposition of her grandmother, who was still racing sleds at the ripe old age of 13. Her father looked suspiciously like a coyote, but I can't prove it, and besides, it doesn't really make much difference to me. Nothing phases this dog and she's never been sick a day in her life. She can eat anything and digest it with nothing more than a slightly irritated expression on her face. She's capable of running at over 50km/hr (I've timed it...don't ask how) if she gets going in a good open stretch. She's stuborn as an ox though, and if she's got it in her head to do something there's no persuading her otherwise. She is a big ball of love most of the time, and will curl up on your lap if you let her. She was responsible for making my husband (an ardent 'cat person') into a dog person, and for that I will be forever in her debt.

The Upstairs Pack (or, The Free for All)

Sox

Sox is a 6 year old Australian Shepherd. He's my fathers dog through and through. He spends most of his days running around barking at things, and just generally making sure that his imaginary herd of sheep or cattle is safe. He is a living vacuum cleaner, and anything that hits the floor (food or not) is down his throat before you can stop it. He drools like nothing I've ever seen before, and also smells pretty bad most of the time (no doubt a consequence of his internal plumbing dealing with the myriad of inedible objects he's swallowed). He's a big teddy bear though and LOVES attention. He simply melts when people pay attention to him.

Luna

This is a picture of my sister holding Luna when she was a little baby, but I had to use it here because it captures her personality so perfectly. Luna is our resident goofball. She looks like a cross between a collie and a greyhound - all legs and fur and giant nose. Everyday she does something that just makes you shake your head and wonder what goes on in her head. Her favorite place to sleep is curled up on the top of the patio table, especially if it's snowing. She constantly adds to her repetoire of 'weird', be it running around the yard with an umbrella stand firmly in her mouth, or trying to bury her bone in the corner of the living room. She's generally a moody sort, and can go from trotting about happily to grumbling under her breath at you, to downright snarling at one of the other dogs for looking at her funny. She loves my momma in a worshipful sort of way, and can always be found not too far away from wherever mom is.

Lando

Lando is the newest addition, and nearly everyone's favorite. He's a siberian husky just like Roxy. He's king of the castle around here, and is currently going through the adolescent 'everything belongs to me' phase. He's a big goof, and is still kind of akward in his movements, so he usually comes across as smashy and ungraceful. When he walks he doesn't bend his knees, so he walks with a lock-legged rocking back and forth motion. He can run like the wind though. He's a very gentle and loving soul, and you often get the feeling when looking into his eyes that he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. He's a perfect little prince and I love him to pieces.

The Rest of the Cast

Louis

Louis (pronounced Lou-ee) is a 9 year old African Grey parrot. He talks about as well as a three or four year old child, and can hold a conversation. He's very shy though, and if someone he doesn't know is around he tends to whisper nonsensibly. There are some sounds that give him trouble, 'L' being one of them, so he pronounces his own name 'Dewey'. He's a master at impressions and has my mom down to a 't'. He delights in saying things in people's voices that he knows will get a reaction, and is forever making fun of my mother by using her exasperated voice (Lando, get OUT! *sigh*) and then laughing hysterically at the joke he's just made. To become friends with Louis takes a lot of time and patience, as he's pretty wary of strangers (as most parrots are). A good way to start though is to give him a peanut. Peanut is his favorite word, and if he knows that you know what a peanut is you will be hounded relentlessly until you give in and provide him with one. Louis is such a patient and empathetic soul that I often forget he's not human. He shows genuine concern for everyone, even when you yourself might not be aware that you're showing signs of being upset. He's definitely a monk disguised as a bird. I'm very glad for the long lifespan of parrots because as frustrating as his one track mind can be (especially when expressed loudly, as only a parrot can do), I will be devastated the day Louis leaves my life.

Armand

Armand is a 4.5 foot ball python. I don't have a good picture of him because he's terribly difficult to try to photograph well. He's pretty reclusive and only really comes out of his cave to hunt. He reminds me of a puppy and will beg for a mouse when he's hungry.

Draco and his wife

Draco is a 10 year old leopard gecko. I've had him for 8 years, and he's pretty special to me. He doesn't do much now in his old age, other than sleep. For a few years my mom was breeding leopard geckos so Draco has gotten to live out his years in a veritable harem. Recently, mom cut down on the gecko population and sold off all but one of his ladies. She doesn't have a name, and I don't really know whether Draco cares if she's there or not, but I just couldn't in good conscience take ALL of his wives away from him.

So, that's our animal contingent here in this house. It's significantly smaller than it's been since I was a small child, but with the growing responsibilities of raising a family, I just don't have time for anything else right now. All of the folks I've introduced you to today are very special to me, and just as important as the human members of or clan. I hope that this gives you a good understanding of their individual personalities and what they bring to our home. I'm sure there will be many posts with them as the key players, and I wanted you all to have a good introduction before that.

The hidden story in everyday objects

2007-12-07T16:14:00.000-08:00

One of the reasons that I enjoy photography so much is that I love to try to capture the spirit encased in everyday objects. I am amazed at how easily I become enthralled when looking at even the simplest things. I'll see a seemingly unremarkable object, and imagine all of the people who have loved it over the years.

The above photo is one that I took in a shipyard earlier this year. I saw this car and was immediately moved by it. It's such an obviously European car that I couldn't help but wonder where it came from. Who put it there, and when? What journeys has this car been on? Did it come off of one of the boats that had been docked here? I imagine it zooming around the French country-side, or maybe the streets of an ancient Italian city. Somehow it ended up on a boat and transported all the way across the ocean, only to be abandoned at the docks. The story of the car, combined with its sorry physical state and the contrasting blue wall behind it makes this a photograph that I can just look at for hours.

This second photo was taken in an abandoned house just outside of town. Everyone from this area worth their salt as a photographer has taken photos in this house. It was such an eerie place for me, not only because it was once someone's home that has long since been destroyed and abandoned, but also because of the countless travellers that have visited the place and left their mark. This house was at one time someone's beloved home - a place where a family spent time together, where kids grew up and special moments were shared. Then the trans-Canada highway sprung up only feet from their door. Now it's a landmark where hippies go to party on a cross-country trek, and where curious travellers trek its ruins. I couldn't help but snap this shot. The colour of the green wall contrasts so sharply with the faded, sun bleached wood of the rest of the house, that it almost screams to be acknowledged.

I posted earlier today about my project to take a new picture everyday in 2008. I only hope that I can take some which capture the spirit of the object as truly and completely as these shots do.