Change Makers

Trend spotters.

Mashable.

Milkshake.

People for Good.

Robots.

Technology.

Notes for TV movies.

Facebook.

Twitter.

Google+?
Computers.

Smart Phones.

Visionaries.

Leaders.

Engagement.

Critical thinking.

Integrated digital marketing.

Outside the box thinking.

Bold.

Innovative.

Inspirational.

Remarkable.

A Fresh Thinker.

Irked by Shame

Wondered out loud today if a certain person I know was following the right path.

Turns out I was right. In so far as that funny feeling.

You know when you know but you’re afraid to ask?

So goes my story.

Not the forgotten mystery one.

More the changed the shape of the horizon type.

Spoken words do justice amongst friends.

Hidden secrets come out.

The truth shines.

Yet the darkness prevails with the shame exposed.

Cover it up if you can!

Deep down you know.

Amongst ourselves we can say.

Been irked by the shame.

But really who’s to know?

The Body is Home

The roof I have over my head isn’t my home. My body is.

With it I breathe, smell, feel, touch, laugh, cry, hear, sing and taste.

Inner peace is in the soul. Deep inside. Soothing and warm. Friendly at all times. Loving and free,

Nourishment is survival. Air. Leafy greens, proteins, fruits. Water.

Love.

When things are injured - the body repairs. With help. Careful intake of the appropriate elements.

But toxins surround. In the environment, tangled in food and even our water.

It copes. Mechanisms inside adapt.

Or it is allowed to build up. Blackness may appear. Cancer or other diseases take root.

It’s the mind that directs. Stress plays. Diminishes the senses. Stuns the sustenance.

Hard for some to let it go. To free oneself.

Time marches on. The body ages. Years pass. It shrinks. We accept.

The body it’s our home.

Five weeks today I fell off my road bike and fractured by pelvis in two places and my clavicle.

Today I am so grateful for my healing.
Each day my body is getting stronger.

My body, my temple – my home.

Muffin Tops

Best name I’ve heard yet for the fat that forms above the hips.

Had a big scare when I made it into the gym this week. My how they grow when you aren’t exercising.

Very sad. I am missing sweating and raising my heart rate. Most of all, riding in a pack with the TripleShot Pre-Dawn Cycling Destination Club.

An avid cyclist I know who consistently wins or places in the top three had the best advise for me.

He talked about Lance Armstrong. How when he was so sick his body and muscles went down to nothing. Yet, when he came back – he bounced back. Working it all the right ways.

I formalize in my mind how I can heal from old injuries during this time. To come back stronger.

From what I’ve been reading on various blogs with regards to pelvic fractures, it will be some time before I can run again. The range of motion with the clavicle fracture is good. But working it is testy. (See Broken Wings.)

Yet the recumbent bicycle beckons!

I tested 20 minutes after a little stretching and crunches. Only to suffer the afternoon with some pain-killers.

But I’m learning. What the body wants. What the body can take.

Ice cream (emotional/sympathy soothers) and growing muffin tops!

How the Internet Connects

My Pal Amy!

I know Amy. Even though I’ve never met her in person.

We’re pals. Some day we are going to ride together.

Until our time comes, we connect via email and Facebook.

She’s in Knoxville, Tennessee. I’m in Victoria, British Columbia.

We first met last year when I was doing the BC Bike Race.

Amy read my blog. It was so cool to hear how excited she was everyday to read my posts.

I absolutely loved receiving her comments. So much enthusiasm and support!

The BC Bike Race came and went and Amy continued to comment on my blog. We joined together on Facebook and started to enjoy long emails back and forth.

It was amazing to discover how much we have in common when it comes to life, drive, attitude and gratitude.

Ironically the very day I took my tumble off my road bike and fractured my pelvis and clavicle, Amy had sent me one her usual upbeat “checking in” emails.

I gave her the news.

Behind my Blackberry I could feel her sympathy and support in her every typed out word. It was wonderful.

She tagged me with the line, “It’s OK to have the pity party!”

Previous to my tumble, Amy had supported my efforts in my project with Uganda Wishes. I received the most thoughtful care package ever.

She put together post-its, small bulldog clips for paperwork, lip balm, a unique “Amy” designed t-shirt (I wore it today!), and an amazing pair of “Amy” earrings – bike style with chain links. So original!

As the weeks have followed my accident (May 22) I have asked for advise. She’s a Physical Therapist (had written her up originally as an Occupational Therapist sorry Amy!) so she’s dealt with people like me.

I’m so grateful for our friendship. Can hardly wait to ride my bike along side her. One day we hope to team up for the BC Bike Race.

How the Internet connects!

Sweet Summer!

It’s about time.

Birds awake before dawn.

Days are long.

Scattered clouds envelope the skies.

While a warm breeze skirts your nose.

The air lifts the strings. The heart it sings.

Flowers burst the scene.

Fruits sniff the arrival.

Vegetables are plentiful.

Children play till dark.

Music sings the night.

Steaks sizzle.

Laughter erupts.

Tents are pitched.

Beers are drunk.

Swimsuits are dawned.

The sun floods the days.

Sweet, sweet summer!

Staggered Hope

Used to think I knew what I wanted.

Be careful what you wish for. Heard that before.

You can climb the mountain, but when you get to the top what do you have left?

To slide down on your butt.
Dreams pop in and about. Dabbled tribes of faces come and go.

Life’s missions unfold. Deadened goals eliminated.

What’s in the past stays there. The Universe designs the landscape for tomorrow.

Things happens exactly the way they should. Doesn’t always feel right.

Happiness is earned. Transcribed through time.

Affirmations scribe healing.

Today I feel deafened by sadness.

No job. No money.

Yet I’m able to reach out.

Find food. Feel love.

Appreciate the support.

For tomorrow, there’s staggered hope.

Book the Social Time

Doctor’s orders.

“Make sure to be social,” she said with a teacher like scorn look on her face.

My healing is slow. Especially since it’s my pelvis. The clavicle is happy. Moving about. Lots more range.

Thursday I went to physiotherapy and the therapist did a manipulation on the soft tissues in different places. Clearly damaged.

Since Friday afternoon I’ve been walking pretty crooked. More pain - different places. It’s traveled into my back.

Two days ago I figured I’d be getting rid of the cane within a week. Here’s still hoping – but I can’t say I’m thinking it.

If ever I get asked how I am I say it how it is. Yet when I’m told I’m going slower then I was, like today. My request is for sympathy. Sympathy hugs!

Totally open for sympathy hugs. Anytime, anywhere.

Same for coffee. Someone wants to go for coffee. I’m in. Take me.

Gotta get out. Be about. Keep moving. No time for pity.

Although I’m allowed to fall to pieces. Felt today like I did. Only to be reminded.

Most important part for all aspects of healing.

Keep thy spirits up. 

Book the social time.

Tag Them AND Shame Them

The mass excites of riots that ensued after the Stanley Cup final game play last night, which saw our home team the Vancouver Canucks loose - won’t get cleaned up anytime soon.

In absolute horror I watched as station after station broadcast live the so-called action.

It is beyond understanding how these young adults who have so much thought it OK to violently attack other people’s property in hell-bent destruction. Even looting.

Shame on them.

I watched the end of the game last night. Made a few family calls in reflection. Then tuned into a movie, which was disrupted by the live broadcasts.

Utter disbelief had me flicking from channel to channel till late into the night. This can’t be happening. This is Vancouver. Home of Vancouver 2010. Not Lebannon or Egypt.

There’s no reason for this horror. It shows absolute disrespect, not only for Vancouver – but for the sad souls celebrating in it.

Shame on them again.

Why? I wake up this morning. Was it all a bad dream? How can this be?

I shutter to calculate the cost to taxpayers, let alone businesses, the City of Vancouver, Police and Fire Departments, BC Ambulance Service, the Health Authority.

Did Social Media play a part in the action? With the majority posing for photographs and Smart Phones recording their glee?

Absolutely. Fueling the fire.

But today, let’s hope Social Media helps to clean it up and make those who stoked the fires accountable.

Tag them. Shame them. Make them pay.

See Facebook: Canucks Fans Against the 2011 Vancouver Riots

Fan Hype Not Fan Fever

Not one to watch hockey. Had enough of it when my son was growing up. Yet, tonight’s game drew me in.

The Stanley Cup Final. A win or die for the locals.

Earlier in the week during the game play lead up a prominent statue in Victoria’s Inner Harbour was sporting our very own Canucks jersey. A classic move for what would have been dominant era for the mood prude in the century of the individual it was erected after.

The energy was even high over the weekend when they did win. Young and old flying the flag. Screaming horns and waving fans, driving around in circles. In case anyone didn’t know.

A dollar off at some of the local vendors if you wore the jersey.

Someone’s blue pick-up truck complete with the team logo and whopper flags to boot.

Many, many, many car flags fluttering by.

On my way home tonight and the game start is on so I flick to the AM. I can hear the energy of the crowd as the team enters the arena.

Who doesn’t want the win?

At home I’ve got the tube dialed. We’re past the second period and the team is down. I check with Twitter and the fans that once were are already scattering.

Some Tweets resonate - don’t give up! Go down fighting!

Here in Victoria at Royal Athletic Park they’re leaving. Downtown Vancouver, the street party is thinning.

Yet the game's not over!

It’s not over till it’s over.

For all the fans that began the game, is that fan hype not fan fever?

What Happens Next

The only predictable in life is this:

• You are born.
• Eventually you will die.

That’s it.

Who’s to say what could happen tomorrow. Or, the next day for that matter. You may think you know. But do you really?

When I said goodbye to the dog on May 22^nd my words were something like, “See you soon!”

Didn’t anticipate being stopped in my tracks that day. That’s for sure.
Life can take you for a ride all right. Up. Down. Sideways. Or to a full stop.

Each day is different. It will never be the same as yesterday or tomorrow for that matter.

That’s why it’s so precious. To be savoured. Like the medley of colours glowing in the spring skies when the full orange sun is setting.

Took a moment to reflect on my dreams by calling up SARK’s Inspiration Line. Got it dialed in my Skype contacts.

She reminded me to face full on life’s challenges. Not to run and hide. To hold hands. Let things melt into one.

Then she reminded me of her latest book, which I haven’t read.

Glad No Matter What.

Thought it appropriate given my current state. So I moseyed out to the library late this afternoon to put a copy on hold.

You never know what pleasant surprises await you in the day, or in the ones to follow.

The fun is in the not knowing.

What will happen next…

Half Way Healer

Each day gets better. When I sit up and stand up I express gratitude.

Thank goodness I didn’t need surgery, and - I didn’t knock myself out!

Physio says another week for bone netting and then I can get into some exercises. Maybe some pool walking.

I’m off the pain meds. Doing a Traumeel tablet three times a day is all.

But the muscles they are a screaming!

Which will take longer to heal. The soft tissue trauma.

It’s three weeks today since I slid on the train tracks off my road bike and fractured my pelvis in two places, along with my clavicle.

I’ve taken the liberty of making a list of the challenges you come across when in this kind of condition. I’m currently walking with a cane:

1. No such thing as parking for injured people. You’ve got to take your chances. Borrow Grandma’s handicapped decal?
2. Having a walking stick doesn’t mean people will get out of your way when you’re in a crowd. Take heed! Especially for rowdiness!! You don’t want to get bumped and re-injure yourself.
3. Unless you ask, it’s rare someone will open the door for you. Make sure to ask!
4. Ensure any length of trek absolutely necessary has somewhere to stop and sit along the way.
5. It’s not possible to carry anything heavier then five oranges.  Pelvic injuries too close to core. Ask a neighbour to assist with carrying groceries from car to home.
6. Assistance required also for carrying laundry.
7. Sleeping is the biggest challenge. I can now do two hours on my back with knees bent and blankets stuck under feet to stop slipping. Then the next shift is best sitting up back against the wall – three pillows with one for lower back so head and shoulders tilt back. Repeated as necessary.
8. Patience. Daily reminders. This is temporary!! Cardio junkies don’t do well when their heart rates aren’t challenged and they’re not sweating!
9. Finally, mornings are hard. Slow and steady. Ambling off my boat to walk the dog is the toughest part of the day. But the most rewarding. I can do it. Moving is good!

I’m half way there for the mending of the bones.
Plan on coming back stronger.

Today. Calling myself the half way healer.

Victoria International Cycling Festival

Jump Ship is all dialed in at Victoria's Inner Harbour!

A lot of talk went into a culmination of events that many have been heard to say, “It’s about time!”

True. Victoria is the Cycling Capital of Canada.

Cause we can. Ride that is. Like all year round.

Sure. We’ve got some bragging rights. Well more then that.

We’ve got folks with vision, charisma and gusto to walk their talk. To make it so.

I was stoked when I first met Rob Fawcett the guru behind the vision. The Victoria International Cycling Festival. He talked the talk by forming the circle. Bringing in the players. Delegating.

I heard it. Then I saw it.

Never thought I’d see a little mini Crankworx in Victoria’s Inner Harbour. The Jump Ship – lots of dirt on a barge for the World Class Freeride Competition. Complete with live DJ’s. A festival of food, beer garden and artisans.

Then a short stroll to the Harbour Sprints in front of the Legislature.
I remember zoot suites when they were in. The punk/pop era of the retro British wave. The dudes were happening. It wasn’t all spandex racing the 300 meters on their fixies. Run-off for the slow-down. Look ma no brakes!

Wicked cool is all I can say.

I watched the bike polo dudes as they dialed in their rides. Readying for the tourney on the streets tomorrow.

Three a side. Where’d they come from?
San Francisco, Idaho and California.

How cool is that.

The bike culture is like kids on a playground.

Doesn’t matter who you are. You can all play together. Have fun. Talk. Show some camaraderie for each other.

All around were smiles. On everyone’s faces.

Wild colours screeched by us to the finish. Cheers, cowbells and whistles were heard.

Later it was the win from the Canucks.

Tonight was epic.

The Victoria International Cycling Festival continues all weekend.

Ya gotta check it out.

Just sayin’.

Belly Laughs

It’s good for you. Releases some kind of magic in the brain. Makes the pain go away. Like the endorphins that escape when you run. Except that way you get a little high.

Somewhere I saw a woman devastated with cancer who elected to bring laughter into her life everyday to ward off the darkness. She watched funny movies. Read funny books.

Last night I went to see Bridesmaids with my son and his girlfriend. I knew what it would be, as far as a movie goes. The laughter rings hinged me on seeing it on the big screen.

While I stuffed myself with popcorn I reminded myself how grateful I was that I could hobble into the theatre!

It’s now two and half weeks since I fractured my pelvis in two places and my clavicle falling off my road bike – yup going way too fast crossing slippery when wet train tracks.

While the drama unfolded in front of me I savoured the knee slapping moments. Laughter is good on the pelvis and the clavicle!

Made me think of my dad. He was paralyzed on his left side from a stroke for over 30 years till his passing. His medicine in the day was to find the humour. He listened to funny audio tapes and watched comic movies on television.

All the while cracking the one-liners to those around him.

What a spirit. To live each day with laughter.

That’s the best medicine of all.

The belly laugh.

Look at the Good

Never sure at the time when something bad happens or you find yourself not exactly where you want to be, what the reason is.

“Everything happens for a reason, you won’t realize it now but you will later.”

That’s what mum always said.

Gratitude is my key word these days. When I stand up I say it.

“I am so grateful I can stand.”
Walking still hurts. So does sneezing. But progress is being made.

Yet I am reminded. Others are not so lucky.

This tempts me to preach. While so often I don’t, I know I should.

Simply. Think about the good. Don’t focus on the bad.

Eliminate the negatives. Cultivate the positives.

Like the tomato ripening on it’s vine. Water it daily and it will grow. Through your nourishment.

Stop asking the why.

Think about the now.

Today.

What is beautiful in today?

I can see the sunshine. Smell the air. Feel the wind. Touch the water. Taste the food. Hear the music.

Time now.

To only look at the good.

Empty Skies

Lightning flashes. Sparks.

Near misses.

While darkness awaits.

Streams flow the cheeks.

When is the next epiphany?

I can cross my legs now.

Right over left - at the knees.

While the dreams fade grey.

Still the mind reminds me.

Patience.

I am healing.

It is temporary.

Although stopped in my tracks.

Told to sit down. Shut down.

Here I squander.

When the new day breaks.

Will the dreams ignite those empty skies?

That’s Enough!

Comfort in food. I know it. Who doesn’t?

My challenge, given my healing path (fractured pelvis and clavicle) doesn’t involve cardio or weights.

Not much really.

Kegels. Thigh pinchers. Calf raises.

About what I can manage.

Now for the calorie count!

I count out the almonds for breakfast. Bookended with some fruit.
Waddle through the day chanting “Low fat, no fat!”

Tonight, the family angel descends with low-fat (brownie points) pita chips and… (don’t want to know the fat content) dip.  Yummy dip.

Needless to say I indulge. I savour. I delight.

The call already went out earlier in the day for frozen yogurt (chocolate).

Heave ho there I go. All gone!

But missy Lorraine had some wise words before she left me to my own devices.

Some therapeutic teachings. A visualization with the end result being to tell yourself, “That’s enough.”

No getting up for more. Settle in for the sighs.

Enough is enough.

Haven’t got the frozen yogurt yet. Am promising to practice telling myself before I reach the bottom of the container.

“Yup, that there my dear is enough!”