What's Coming Up Next and Do you Keep a Journal?

I just finished taking a ride down memory lane. I re-read all the original posts captured here - both the published ones and those still in draft format. It's hard to accept that time is so fleeting, evidenced by this blog.

I started writing here over a decade ago. As you can see, my content was sporadic. I struggled with my intent for posting personal insights and gave up many times. Today, I was glad I still had them to look back on.

I'm not sure exactly when I did this (maybe within the last 2 years), but I destroyed all my handwritten journals. Why? Because they were like open wounds. I was embarrassed by the thought of someone reading them and judging me - especially, my grown children or grandchildren.

As I am reading Matthew McConaughey's memoir, Greenlights, I regret my decision. I see their value now. They would have made a wonderful resource for some of the material I am writing today. As my past slips farther away from my present, I am finding it difficult to recapture some of the feelings and timing of certain events. I was blind. I could not appreciate their potential value as an emotional measure of my life.

I will not let this deter me from sharing a part of myself with others. And, I am unlikely to counsel anyone to discard their journals in the future.

Going forward, I intend to revise and publish some of the posts that have been waiting for my attention for so long. It will be interesting to see when they were started and whether my views have evolved.

Let's enjoy the ride together.

Fringe Science: How It Influenced My Thinking About Truth

Since I was a young child, I've always had an interest in fringe science. The skeptics out there, of course, would deny that this is any type of science at all, or may refer to some theories as pseudoscience. My come back has always been, and still is, ... we don't know what we don't know and there is lots that we don't know.

The problem for the lay person, like myself, lies in the questions, "Who to believe?" and "Fact or Fiction?".

Back in my twenties, I read an interesting book about Area 51. I may not be able to say to you with any conviction that aliens exist but I can tell you how you can use the dissemination of misinformation to discredit an idea. It's a form of propaganda. You simply mix truth with lies. The manner in which you weave your story together must be convincing so that people cannot discern fact from fiction. At least, not on the surface. The technique is used often - just look at all the conspiracy theories out there.

Determining truth is not always easy. It helps not to be gullible - meaning, don't believe something just because a lot of people are spreading it as fact. It is my policy not to accept or dismiss ideas based strictly on their popularity. I weigh out how an idea fits into my views and do my own homework should it be necessary.

Today, I don't see truth as black or white - unlike facts. That being said, even facts may vary from individual to individual based on a personal perception of them. But, I find that truth is more personal. Your acceptance of something as fact, is often coloured by your current beliefs.

Contrast Brings Me Clarity

Last night was my monthly book club meeting. An event I always look forward to whether I have enjoyed the selected book or not. It is my opportunity to socialize, express my thoughts, and listen to what others have to say. (Notice the order of priority here LOL).

I truly appreciate this specific group of ladies. They are both insightful and accepting. Qualities I cherish. Our conversations are always interesting. I especially enjoy moments when we express different points of view on the same subject matter. These are the conversations that I reflect on in days to come. Typically, they are the ones that teach me something - either about myself or the world we live in.

To me, these are moments of valued connection. The insightfulness of this group helps to bring clarity to the way I perceive the world around me.

Fitting It All In

Since I retired, I have resisted being organized and living my life according to a list. I compare my behaviour to those people who refuse to wear a watch - often resulting in them giving up being on time too. I am rethinking whether this strategy is beneficial to me.

Yes, it did initially seem to provide a more relaxing lifestyle; however, I am finding that, even during COVID, 24-hours is insufficient time to fit everything I want into my day.

At first it didn't seem important. If I didn't get something done today, I would get it done tomorrow. I am discovering that this approach to my day results in certain loved activities to fall way behind. You might have noticed that writing this blog seems to get missed way too often.

Don't mistaken this omission to mean that I am not writing. In fact, I am writing a lot. Just not here.

Once again, I am going to make an effort to add my thoughts to this record of my personal journey at least once a week. 

Let's see if list making will help. 😀

Remembrance Day Tribute

 I appreciate peace.

I am grateful to be living in a country that has not experienced war within its borders during my lifetime, and, I hope, never will in its future.  I wish this for all peoples.

I am also grateful for my personal freedoms.

The Value of Fun and Games

I participated in a conversation game this week that reminded me of the importance of fun and games.  I thank the people who opened themselves up and made a connection with the group by sharing something about themselves.  They contributed to my appreciation of the art of play.

As a child, I was raised under an umbrella of rules that were intended to teach me that hard work was rewarded and having fun was unproductive, or a waste of time.  My life experiences reinforced this lesson and I was proud of the accomplishments my hard work resulted in.  It wasn't till much later, as an adult, that I began to value fun for more than its ability to restore my energy.

 

At some point, I began to feel that coined phrase, "there must be more to life".  I had created a lifestyle pattern of working so hard that it took doing nothing just to rejuvenate myself.   Time was a precious commodity.  It had to be spent productively; anything else was a personal indulgence.

By the time I finally saw that the solution was a simple one, I had grown rusty at the art of play.

I love people who see humour in the little things in life.  I strive to be more like them.  If I can find the fun in the small moments of each day, I feel happier.

When I am happier, more good times come my way.

The Gift of Forgiveness May Be Acceptance

 I was recently reminded of an "aha" moment I had while grieving my mother's passing.  It had nothing to do with my mother but everything to do with my father.

Childhood resentment of my father was heavily based on my perspective that he was the polar opposite to my mother.  Whereas I saw her as kind and loving, I felt that he was cruel and cold.  I had also felt that her attributes were undervalued.  To express my feelings of loss, I wrote a poem to honour her.  It was in this act that I gained awareness of my own lack of compassion.  Let me explain.

Growing up I had felt my father's judgment upon me at all times.  I didn't feel that he saw, or accepted me for, who I was.  So, how could he love and appreciate me?  It made me feel that he wanted me to be someone else - perhaps the son he never had.

When I got to writing this stanza, I had an awakening of conscience.

Remember her,
By being accepting of others,
Not for who you want them to be,
But for "who" they choose to be.

I had complained about who my father was my entire life.  In writing these lines, I recognized it was up to me to change how I looked at him.  To see him as a man who struggled all his life to do his best.  It was time to accept him for who he was, instead of expecting him to reflect the image of a father I had wanted him to be.

My new perspective was tested at his death bed five years later.  As he lay dying, he talked about what a great father he had been.  I didn't contradict him.  I acknowledged his belief in himself and gave him the gift of a peaceful passing.

I will always respect and thank my father for providing his family with a home, food on the table and an education.  He never made me feel that being female meant I couldn't become anything I decided on.  The contrast he represented in my life experiences brought clarity to my vision of who I wanted to be and reflect back to the world.  I am grateful for these things.