Black-Focused Schools

We must learn to live together as brothers or perish together as fools.
Martin Luther King Jr.

I guess we are going to perish as fools. In a recent decision, the Toronto District School Board decided to create black-focused schools. I believe that if this decision is carried out, it will promote racism.

Racism comes in all colours and creeds. It is not exclusive to white people. I have travelled to China, for example, and have been treated badly because the colour of my skin and nationality.

How are people in black-focused schools going to learn how to live together with the rest of the population? I am not just talking about people of European background, but Asian, as well.

In fact, if there can be black-focused schools, why not have Asian-focused schools. Toronto with its multi-ethnic background could easily create these little ghettos.

Let’s not stop there, though. Why not create schools for every religion that wants to do so?

For those of you who live in Ontario, does that last sentence sound familiar? It should. The Progressive Conservative Party was promoting separate schools for many cultures and religions in the last election. It was the issue that hurt the party the most, so much so that the election hinged mostly on this one issue.

Don’t believe that blacks are solidly behind this proposal. They aren’t.

Are there alternate solutions? Of course there are. Courses in cultural sensitivity could be devised, not just for blacks, but also for all cultures. We really do need to learn about each other.

A problem that hasn’t been addressed, though, is the whole question of parenting. I’m not talking about only one skin colour, but all of them. In my experience as an occasional teacher, I go into many classrooms. You can tell the students who have received good parenting. Good parents expect excellence from their children. Poor parents tolerate bad behaviour and explain it away or lay the blame elsewhere.

If the same efforts to create black-focused schools were used to work on ways to promote ways we can live in harmony, our children would be better off.

Harvey Popowich

When I worked for CITV in Edmonton from 1974 to 1977, there was a sound technician by the name of Harvey Popowich. He was considered to be one of the top, if not the top, person in the country at his trade.

He was able to show what he was made from with the In Concert series that CITV did with the top artists of the day. They would come to Edmonton and go through their repertoire accompanied by the Edmonton Symphony Orchestra. People like Neil Sedaka, Roger Whittaker, Charlie Pride and Tom Jones made appearances.

I feel that proper credit was not being given. Here was an independent television station in Alberta that was producing programming that was top-notch and being sold around the world. In fact, one year it won an award for the best musical series on television, I believe, at Cannes. CITV won this award competing against the world.

The concert was recorded in 16-track sound and mixed by Harvey Popowich back at the station.

What was quite innovative for its time was the fact that when the program went to air on television, the stereo audio feed was fed to a local FM station. You could watch the transmission and hear it in beautiful stereo at home.

Harvey did a lot of his sound mixing at night. During the day the station was pumping out various commercials and doing things like a live daily women’s show.

I remember one day Harvey had just finished the final mix. The audio room was furnished with the finest sound equipment in its day. The speakers were huge and the sound that came from them was pure and clear.

Harvey wasn’t listening to the final mix on these beautiful speakers, though. He was listening to it on a cheap speaker with about six inches in diameter.

I asked him why, after spending so much time mixing the sound so it was so beautiful, was he listening to the final version on such a poor speaker.

Harvey told me that he already know that it sounded great on the finest sound equipment in the world. Most of the people who would watch the concert didn’t own the finest sound equipment in the world. They watched on their televisions, and this speaker came from a typical television of the day.

It immediately struck me that he was absolutely right. It got me thinking. I often have something I want to say. How often do I prepare my message for the few who have deluxe equipment without realizing that few will appreciate it unless I check it out on what most of the people possess? How often have I tried to communicate something that might have been true, but it just didn’t sound good to the common person? And why? I was more worried about how good it would sound to me to my beautiful ears. I hadn’t taken the time to check on how others might hear it.

The Reverend Ernest Harrison

Ernest Harrison was an Anglican minister. He was a bit of a radical in his church. He had written a book called A Church Without God. I don’t believe it was denying the existence of God. He was just stating that he didn’t think God was alive and well in the Anglican church. This viewpoint was not very popular in his denomination.

Ernest Harrison was also the best English teacher I ever had. He taught me for one year at Ryerson. From the very beginning he encouraged me to think. You didn’t have to agree with him as long as you could make a strong argument for your case. He was one of the few teachers who ever gave good marks to somebody with independent thought.

In his survey English course, I learned that the writing of an era often is often parallel to historical events. More simply put, people write about what they know and what they know is what is happening around them.

One day he took me aside. He saw that trying to please everyone was almost an obsession with me. I was always afraid that I might offend somebody. If I did, I apologized profusely and looked like a sad puppy.

This is the gist of what he told me.

There are three types of people in the world. There are those who hate you, often without any good reason at all. There are those who love you, and sometimes this love is so pure, you can’t figure it out either. The third group is comprised of the vast majority of people in the world who couldn’t care less about you.

He told me that one the secrets to happiness in life could be summed up in these words.

Try to spend as little time as possible with those who hate you.

Try to spend as much time as possible with those who love you.

For the vast majority of people who don’t care about you, be as kind as you can with them. Some of them may become one of those who love you.

They were simple words, but nobody had told me anything like this before. They rang true. To this day, I try to put into practice this bit of wisdom that the Reverend Ernest Harrison told me.

The Love Feast (Part 2)

His name was Dennis. He was a very lonely man. Since I lived closest to him, somebody asked if I could pick him up for our college and career group in Ottawa.

As the weeks went by, he opened up to me slowly. I learned that he enjoyed his job as a dishwasher at a hotel. Even though he said nothing at our college and career events, he became more animated in his conversation each time we went home together.

Then came our Love Feast. You may recall, this is where people are paired off and have to go for a meal one on one for two hours, then report back to the group about what they learned about their partner.

I think it is safe to say that everybody in the room dreaded drawing Dennis as a partner. I can imagine Dennis was just as afraid to go with somebody else.

Joyce, a pretty, young nurse, drew the slip with his name on it. Immediately, eyes like daggers looked at me as if to say that she was thinking of going home and escaping from this hellish experience she was stuck with. Dennis didn’t look very comfortable, either. However, she went through with it.

Being the organizer, I was always the last one to draw a slip of paper. If there were an odd number of people, then I didn’t participate. For the next two hours, I sat there alone wondering what could be happening with Joyce and Dennis. Would Dennis even say a word? He was so painfully shy.

Everyone returned. Joyce shot a look at me that reminded me of a laser beam burning a hole in a piece of metal. I was not her favourite person in the world. That was very clear.

Then the presentations began. People gave eloquent, funny and detailed stories about the people they went out with. Joyce got enough out of Dennis to present a positive experience to what I knew was a moment that would go down in her life as a disaster, even though she eventually saw it as a blessing.

I turned to Dennis and said, “Dennis, tell us about Joyce.” Silence. More silence. Even more silence. Would Dennis ever speak? I waited. I waited long enough that I could hear the mental screams of everybody in the room to let this guy off the hook. I refused. I just knew that I had to be cruel to be kind in this situation. I looked at the floor and vowed that I would wait there forever until he spoke.

And he did. He said, “Joyce and I went out for dinner and she is a really nice girl.” That was it, but those who had been screaming mentally at me just moments before were reacting like they had heard Martin Luther King’s “I have a dream” speech. Everybody in the room was relieved, including Dennis and me.

The seed had been planted and had been watered immediately. Dennis had given to the group and they had reacted favourably. He had taken the risk and had been rewarded by love. Little did we know how fast it would grow.

Within a month, Dennis was a vital part of the group. Sure, he was still a bit shy, but he was acting in skits. The warm, bright light beyond the door was shining through as it was gradually being opened.

I don’t remember how I lost contact with Dennis, but I still wonder how he is doing.

I do know what happened to Joyce, though. Jon, a friend of mine, was so impressed with the positive attitude (he probably didn’t see Joyce’s looks at me) Joyce had about the evening, that he figured he would like to know this kind woman better. A year or so later they were married. Joyce later confided with me that she was ready to strangle me that night, but realized how this experience, which she deemed so negative, had a happy ending well beyond her expectations.

The Love Feast (Part 1)

“Oh, please don’t let it be her!”

I had planned my first-ever Love Feast for my college and career group in Kitchener. What is a Love Feast? I don’t expect you to know because nobody else knew until they showed up. The notification simple said to show up for the event at 6:30 sharp on Friday night and bring your car if you have one.

When everybody arrived to an empty hall, they were a bit suspicious. Then I told them what the Love Feast was.

Half the people in the room who had cars would put their name in a hat. The other half would draw a name from that hat. The task was to go out for dinner with that person for two hours and come back and report to the group what you learned.

From the very start, it was an activity where two people had to cooperate. Some were dressed informally. Others had little money. Let’s not forget the vegetarians and vegans. What about those who hated certain types of food? All of these variables had to be considered. Oh, and there was one more rule. Wherever you ate, if you recognized somebody, you had to eat elsewhere. This was to be exclusively one on one.

There were many people in the room I would have loved to have had dinner with. There was one I didn’t want to choose my name. She was a petite, old-fashioned girl with glasses who was painfully shy. I had hardly ever heard her talk. How could anyone go out with her and find something to talk about for two hours?

You have probably guessed by now that she chose my name. We decided on a restaurant rather quickly. Actually, she didn’t go out very much – probably read library books every night – so she let me select something that was in her budget range.

I went to get in my car. It was unlocked. She stood by the passenger door. Yes, she was waiting for me to open the door for her, which I did with a groan in my heart. I didn’t even know her! I was dreading this event already and I was the one who created it.

The door of my car shut. The click was just like the sound of a tape player starting. She started talking and talking and talking. I seldom had the opportunity to get in a word edgewise. I just sat there listening, taking notes and nodding. It was obvious that she felt comfortable speaking with me and I imagine, like a dam bursting, she had a lot of conversation that had been saved up for many months.

Those who know me know that I know how to talk. When it came time to do our presentations, she only had about 30 seconds of information about me. I was able to give minute detail to the degree of almost telling them the number of hairs on her head. As I told everybody about her, the others watched me as if they were watching a flower open for the first time. In fact, one fellow was so interested in my exposé, he asked her out and they were married six months later.

I have done the Love Feast with several college and career groups and a men’s group. Each time, the pairings have been unusual, but have seemed like destiny taking over.

The result has always been the same. The participants have come back bubbling with joy and reporting to the group. When was the last time you had somebody tell a group how wonderful you are? Well, it happens at the Love Feast.

Another interesting thing happens. While you are out with your partner, you usually slip something into the conversation that you don’t want reported. Somehow the other person knows and doesn’t include that in his speech about the wonders of you.

Of course, the other part of the fun is listening to all of the places people go and how they decided to go there.

If you live in a community where a Love Feast would work, give it a try, but don’t tell a soul what it is until they show up. I guarantee you, many will stay home, but once they get there, they will go home singing a song.

The Guilty One

Years ago, I was part of a college and career group at a church in Kitchener, Ontario. Somehow I was placed on a committee that planned social events on Saturday nights. I have always been one to think of innovative ideas and this one certainly was.

Kitchener has Victoria Park close to the downtown. In the middle, there was a pavilion. I put a doll in it and marked it so it looked like a murder had been committed. Then I spread clues all over a certain area within the park.

When everybody arrived, I stated that a murder had occurred in the park. I took them to the scene of the crime and mentioned that there were clues within the boundaries I had determined before. Their job was to gather all of the information and when we went back to somebody’s home for snacks, they would form groups to see if they could figure out who did it.

Like horses out of a starting gate, they took off scampering like water bugs in every direction. Nobody was to remove any of the evidence. They wrote down what they saw on pieces of paper.

After half an hour of investigation, we retired for our fellowship, which usually meant delicious light refreshments. They formed into groups and were given half an hour to come up with the guilty person. They would then be given the opportunity to present their evidence and name their suspect.

I wandered from group to group. The discussion was lively. Each clue was examined carefully and hypotheses were drawn up. Sometimes in a group there were heated arguments. Eventually, each group was confident that it had solved the case.

Then the presentations started. I actually gave prizes for the most detailed, the most eloquent and the funniest. One by one they went through their information and at the end each group stated with great certainty that one of the members of our group had committed the crime.

When the final presentation was over, they bayed at me like hounds chasing a fox to reveal the one who was guilty. Here is what they learned.

First, the clues that they had collected were random items I had selected from my apartment. I had no idea of how they were connected.

Second, they had collected items in the park that I had not planted; yet they included them in their summations.

Third, I had no idea who the guilty party was.

They were not too pleased. Someone asked me, “Why did you have us run around wasting our time?”

I replied, “I didn’t waste your time. What you learned was that your imagination is very strong. It can take circumstantial evidence that has no relevance to each other, put it together and be certain that somebody is guilty of a crime he didn’t commit. In fact, I never even said that one person in the group committed the crime, yet each group named somebody here tonight. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

Suddenly, everybody’s face became quite sober. The lesson had been learned. All I can say is that I am glad I invented the game, because I know I would have done the same thing.

Teaching Kindergarten

As an occasional teacher, I teach from kindergarten to grade 8. Each day poses a new challenge, but there is always something to laugh about when I teach kindergarten.

The closest thing I can think about comparing it to is trying to herd gerbils. They scamper around and are so unpredictable.

Having my guitar helps. It holds their attention, although each child who has a long lost relative feels he has to tell me that this person has a guitar just like mine. One by one they raise their hand and tell me. It’s like waves lapping on the shore, until I finally have to get on with it.

Just yesterday, one young girl found the room too hot. Her solution was stripping down to her underwear. Fortunately, I had a female assistant who was able to handle this situation.

I am one of the few males who teach kindergarten. Since I am 57 years old, this usually doesn’t pose too much of a problem. Most of them think of me as being a lot like grandpa. In fact, one imp said, “You smell like grandpa.” I didn’t know how to take this one, so I asked him if that was good. He assured me that it was very good.

At this young age, the kids are usually very honest. If the right question poses itself, you can find out all sorts of things about their families. Once in awhile, you hear something that makes your heart break a bit, like when one child told me that mommy was in heaven.

The most difficult day yet one of the funniest was when one child took one look at me and started crying, “I want my mommy.” Usually ignoring the noise makes it go away, but this day was special for a reason. It was a few days before Mother’s Day, and every activity we did had something to do about mom.

Just as the crying was subsiding, we read a story about mom. Then we sang a song about mom. Next it was a card for Mother’s Day. A poem, a page to colour, journal entries, it all led to tears flowing and the chant “I want my mommy.” It lasted until 1 pm in the afternoon. The school staff was very supportive and kind. They tried to console her and assured me that I was doing just great, although it didn’t sound that way.

This child is in grade 1 now. I look forward to seeing her again. Hopefully, she will have adjusted to school life better.

These kids have taught me a lot. I have learned that you can be in the same family, have the same birthday and not be a twin, just like one girl’s sister and her aunt. A scribble on a piece of paper can be anything from a home to daddy to just a scribble. I have learned to ask, “Tell me about your picture,” instead of trying to interpret it myself.

Winter is always fun. It seems you are getting them in and out of snowsuits all day. There is always one of them who has a zipper that just won’t budge.

Part of kindergarten is learning the routine of school. Unfortunately on my part, the routine at every school is different. The song for the days of the week can be sung to My Darling Clementine or the theme to the Flintstones. When I get it wrong, they instantly let me know.

They are so eager to please. Just like the father in the movie, Life is Beautiful, I award them meaningless points for doing things like smiling, standing straight and in a line, and being quiet. They just love earning their points.

At the end of the day, I am running on empty, but there is a smile on my face. I get them ready for home and shovel them out the door. When they leave, the room is suddenly silent and lifeless. All of that positive energy has just scooted on home.

In spite of the fact that hugging male teachers is frowned upon in schools, one of them manages once in a while to run up to me and sneak one in.

Travelling around, I have gained an appreciation for the dedicated teachers who do this every day. It takes a special person and I have never met a kindergarten teacher I didn’t like.

My only dislike? The furniture is much, much too small for me. I usually have to go somewhere else in the school to find a chair that suits me.

Dog Poop

When I was four years old, we moved from Toronto to the suburbs in Willowdale. It was a change that was good for our family. There was more space and opportunities for recreation.

Not long after we settled in, I was out playing in front of our house, as they say, minding my own business. Along came a neighbour who was three or four years older than I was. He dragged me over to some dog poop, wrestled me to the ground and stuck my nose in it. To this day, my mind can still feel it on the tip of my nose. I can still smell it.

I ran into the house, burning with anger and shame. I washed my nose over and over and over. I wasn’t merely trying to wash off the poop, but the hurt I felt in my soul. I had been forced to do something against my will.

While I was young, I was old enough to decide then and there that I would wait a few years until I got older. I would be stronger then. I planned to confront this bully and pay him back for tearing a page from my soul.

The years went by. I grew stronger. He became less intimidating with each passing day. I became more confident.

Finally, the time came when I was ready to let him know he couldn’t treat people that way. I was ready and keen for the confrontation.

Then a moving van pulled up to their house, packed up all of their belongings and left.

I was devastated. I had spent all of these years preparing and rehearsing just what I was going to do and it suddenly was gone in an instant.

I wish I could say that I gained some pearl of wisdom from the experience. The only thing I learned was that you can go over every detail of something you are going to do and sometimes something else will happen that will make your plans collapse and have them vanish into the air. You just have to move on, that’s all, and not waste any more energy on it.

I can also say that the experience has helped make me who I am. I am a person who sticks his neck out when he sees indignity towards somebody. If somebody is forced to do something against his will, I step in and do what I can.

Other than that, I just laugh at the timing of the neighbour’s move.

On The Job Blues

I watch the minutes drag by
And I scratch my head and ask why
This day hasn’t gone the way that it should
I would quit this job in a second if I could
But there are far too many bills to pay
And my car needs fixing, so what can I say
I’m dragging myself here day after day

Just an hour to go to quitting time
I’d be a millionaire if they gave me a dime
For every time I thought of you while at work
If it weren’t for these thoughts I’d be half berserk
Half the time on this job I am thinking of you
The other half is thinking of the things that you do
It’s what I do to survive every day in this zoo

Soon I’ll be coming home
Soon I’ll be coming home
I am already dreaming that I’m safe in your arms
That special smile you give me erases all the harms
And I dreaming that I’m safe at home with you

I know tomorrow will be the same
I’ll arrive here once more and play the game
Doing the same thing over and over again
I’m trying my hardest from going insane
I know I should be happy that I am employed
But I wish I did something I really enjoyed
Instead of something meaningless that just fills a void

Soon I’ll be coming home
Soon I’ll be coming home
I am already dreaming that I’m safe in your arms
That special smile you give me erases all the harms
And I dreaming that I’m safe at home with you
And I dreaming that I’m safe at home with you

Uncle Fred’s Hernia

I loved my Uncle Fred. His middle name was Victor, just like mine. We used to go and visit my Auntie Ivy and Uncle Fred pretty often. Both of them always seemed to have a kind word and time to talk to me.

Uncle Fred had a problem. He had a hernia the size of a football, maybe even larger. The fact that he was a short man made the situation more visible.

When I was a child, I’m sure that I must have inquired about the huge bulge in his pants. I know this must have happened because I was aware that I must not mention it. Even though it was plainly visible, I was not to say anything. The subject was taboo.

I remember asking my mother if the situation could be fixed. She assured me that a quick visit to the hospital would correct it. She told me that Uncle Fred didn’t trust doctors and didn’t want to go to one.

I often wondered why Auntie Ivy never did anything. I imagine that she must have tried, but I wondered how she showed her love by allowing her husband to suffer shame and humiliation for decades, even though it was his choice. Also, I don’t think it helped their intimacy. Sure, she loved him, but is it really loving somebody by being gentle with him when firmness is needed? Shouldn’t a person’s love sometimes help another to overcome fears by encouraging him to confront them in very strong terms? For love to be between two people, both have to have a say. Maybe she tried and just gave up.

Then something happened. Uncle Fred got ill and had to go to the hospital. The doctor took one look at the massive hernia and operated on him immediately.

A few days later, Uncle Fred got out of the hospital. The next time I saw him, he was a changed man. He acted like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders as well as his crotch. A wide grin spread across his face. His voice was lighter. The shame had been lifted from his life. His spirit emitted a new positive feeling.

I’m sure he wondered why he hadn’t had the problem looked at years ago. It is not so funny how fear can paralyse us into accepting the unacceptable.

There are times when I know how Uncle Fred must have felt. I, too, have hernias, not literally, but figuratively. The only problem is that my hernias aren’t so visible. They are fears in me that have prevented me from realizing my full potential. It has only been when I have been forced to deal with them that they have instantly vanished.

I used to be painfully shy. When I became a commercial writer/producer, I was forced to meet clients and instantly tell them how I could help them. At first, I was terrified. From there I became a schoolteacher. Students are like sharks. If any of them smell fear in your blood, they respond in a negative way. Again, I had no choice but to cope with the situation. Like Uncle Fred, I am thankful that these situations that placed me in positions of no escape came my way. I was forced to deal with the problems. Doing so was painful, but has left me smiling. I am glad I didn’t go through my whole life wasting years plagued with unconquered fears.

So, what is in your life that is like Uncle Fred’s hernia? Do you want to go through years of suffering and humiliation like he did when you can get help and deal with the situation? Just like riding a bicycle, it may be pretty scary at first, but when you realize that you can do it, you will realize that the fear of falling no longer controls you and you are truly free. You have the opportunity of soaring with the eagles or walking around like a turkey. The choice is yours.

Unconditional Love

Wow! This is an interesting concept. What does it mean?

Unconditional means just that – there are no conditions.

I give my love to you and I do not expect anything in return.

If you do something I don’t like, I will still love you.

My love will not come with any conditions. This means that you are truly free to do whatever you wish. There is no “because I love you, you will do this.” There is only “I love you.”

Is this kind of love possible in humans? I think so, but it takes a lifetime to prove. It will also be tested by many situations and difficulties.

However, and this is a really big however, the definition of love has to be carefully considered.

Are you really giving unconditional love if somebody physically or emotionally abuses you and you allow it to continue?

Are you really giving unconditional love if you don’t confront people with a problem that might stand between you?

Are you really giving unconditional love if you are not being honest about yourself to yourself and other people?

I feel that unconditional love is not something that merely states an act of the will – I will love you unconditionally and that is it! Too many battered spouses accept this form of thinking.

To me it is more than that. It is a result of a relationship where no weakness or strength is hidden; the happiness of the other person is considered and love flows regardless. Again, when I say happiness, it may mean practising a bit of tough love that will ultimately result in growth in that person.

And to unconditionally love others, you have to unconditionally love yourself. Often this is the biggest obstacle.

Let’s look at the best example of unconditional love that everybody can understand. It is the love that a mother has for a child. Occasionally the child poops his pants. The mom accepts this and in spite of the mess, continues to love the child. However, a mother shows love by helping the child grow past many of these things she loves unconditionally. She toilet trains the child. You see, it is not wrong to work towards change and a better relationship for both the parties.

Many mothers also breastfeed their children. Do you know of many teenagers who are still being fed by their mothers? I don’t think so. Why? There is a time for the child to be fed alternate food. She is being kind by eventually stopping breastfeeding.

The point I am trying to make about unconditional love is that it is only seen when something fails, but still contains all the aspects of love that want to improve the relationship. It is not sitting there and being treated like a doormat. It is very special and if you find it, don’t let it go.

The Wall

For a year I taught French in southwestern Ontario. What you have to understand is that many students and their parents wish it were not so. They don’t see it as necessary. There is no place to use the language in the area. Thus, they don’t really care if they do well or not. For many, it is a convenient subject to hate.

Fortunately, I didn’t share this attitude. I have seen my knowledge of French take me places I would never have been without it. Still, it was difficult staying positive each day when I was faced with so many negative attitudes.

What made matters worse is that I was an itinerant teacher. I moved from classroom to classroom. I had no claim to any space for my needs anywhere. Each time I entered, I had to establish control.

The worst part was going from the Grade 4 room downstairs to the Grade 8s. There were some Grade 8s who had trouble with English. Their knowledge of French was pitiful. Somewhere along the way, the basics just didn’t stick and it was my job to motivate and teach them.

As I trudged towards the stairs, I noticed an empty wall. It wasn’t very big, but it wasn’t designated for anybody’s use. I decided then and there to kidnap it. I didn’t ask anybody’s permission. I just adopted it as mine.

Well, what was I to do with my wall? I decided it to make it my wall of quotations. Whenever I saw a positive thought that I really liked, I would put it into my word processing application, increase the size of the font to as large as I could so it would fit on one page, print it and stick it up.

It started with one piece of paper stuck on my wall without any attention to how it was placed. I waited for the custodian or the principal to tear it down. It didn’t happen. The second one went up. No reaction. The sheets of paper on the wall grew and grew with quotes from an eclectic group of people scattered madly here and there.

Each time I passed that wall, I read one or two of the quotations for inspiration and it worked.

At the end of the year, I figured it was time to take them down. I peeled them off and had them in my Grade 4 class. When they saw them, they all wanted them. I had to draw lots for each one. It seems that I was not the only one my wall inspired. I learned that you might never know how anything you do will affect others until you do it.

Being Joyful

I have been blowing it lately. I have been forgetting to be joyful. I have been practising thoughts and actions that have been anything but positive.

You may be saying to yourself as I often do, “What have I to be positive about?” Most of us can chant like a mantra that we are better off than over 90% of the world. We can focus on all of the things we have and be thankful, and I do. When things just aren’t going the way I want them to go, I sometimes find it difficult to be joyful.

But a thought occurred to me today. Something that will, hopefully, permit me to be joyful more often, if not in any circumstance.

The question I asked myself is this: “If I am not joyful, what fruit does my soul produce?” You see, this is very different than merely acknowledging what you have. It takes what you have and puts hope and purpose into it.

Let’s look at the two scenarios. If I am not joyful, do people want to be around me? No. If I am not truly joyful, can I give my best to the people I love? Nope, I am just giving gift-wrapped garbage. So what is the result? It is less joy, not just for me but the ones around me. And the very people I need really don't want to be around me.

On the flip side, when you are joyful, people are naturally drawn to you and they get a lot from you without your having to do much giving at all. What you are giving is the essence of you and people feel that deep down. You don’t have to fuss all over them, although that is fine, too, but they sense the spirit of you and want naturally to be close to you. Notice that I used the word naturally. It’s not an “if I do this, then she will feel that” scenario. She will just know that she wants to be with you because she wants to be around that joy that comes from within you. It will be her choice, not something she feels obliged to do.

When you are joyful, it also gives you a freedom. Your joy is not dependent on others, so they feel no pressure in having to try to please you. You will find that they naturally want to please you because that brings more joy from you.

Now, I know somebody who says that somebody else is the source of his joy. In my opinion, it just can’t work that way. You will suck the other person dry. Also, when they are having a down day, you will too. No, that joy has to come from within.

This person seems to want to control the sources of joy for his loved one and mold and shape it for her. Again, in my opinion, this won’t work. The joy has to come from within. It is an individual responsibility. You can’t do it for me and I can’t do it for you. I have no right to try to lessen someone else’s joy and try to call it love.

People will sometimes give gift-wrapped garbage and try to fool the other person into thinking it is joy. Often this comes in the shape of flowers or boxes of chocolates or doing things for the other person, but with the motivation of control rather than just giving joy. Let’s make no mistake. You can tell when somebody is purely joyful.

Are you afraid of losing love ones? Be joyful. Why? Fretting, worrying and pleading will often make matters worse and becomes a con game. The result is often affection masked as love given in fear or guilt and a need for control. If you were truly joyful, why would anyone ever want to leave? If they do, it is their big loss, and because your joy comes from within, it will not go away, even though you might experience some sadness. I am speaking from some experience on this one. I wish I had known this many years ago.

I’m sure most of us remember the song, Don’t Worry, Be Happy. Some of the thoughts I have expressed here are in the song. You know, this wisdom isn’t new. I’m pretty sure every religion in the world has similar thoughts expressed in its sacred writings.

But before you read the words, smile a big smile, not just on the outside, but on the inside, too, and be joyful.

Don't Worry, Be Happy
Performed by Bobby McFerrin

Here is a little song I wrote
You might want to sing it note for note
Don't worry be happy
In every life we have some trouble
When you worry you make it double
Don't worry, be happy......

Ain't got no place to lay your head
Somebody came and took your bed
Don't worry, be happy
The land lord say your rent is late
He may have to litigate
Don't worry, be happy
Lood at me I am happy
Don't worry, be happy
Here I give you my phone number
When you worry call me
I make you happy
Don't worry, be happy
Ain't got no cash, ain't got no style
Ain't got not girl to make you smile
But don't worry be happy
Cause when you worry
Your face will frown
And that will bring everybody down
So don't worry, be happy (now).....

There is this little song I wrote
I hope you learn it note for note
Like good little children
Don't worry, be happy
Listen to what I say
In your life expect some trouble
But when you worry
You make it double
Don't worry, be happy......
Don't worry don't do it, be happy
Put a smile on your face
Don't bring everybody down like this
Don't worry, it will soon past
Whatever it is
Don't worry, be happy

Loving yourself

How would you like to give the most priceless gift of all? That is giving YOU to someone or something. What are you really giving?

Are you giving the best you can be? Do you perceive your gifts as merely being an obligation or are they precious?

Is there someone or something sucking you dry and preventing from you being the best you can be? If you were meant to fly, are you? If you are not doing what you were meant to do, what can you do about it?

Love yourself. Love yourself like you have never loved yourself before.

What do I mean? Isn’t it being selfish if you love yourself? It is if you are going to keep it to yourself, but if you are planning of giving it away, then it is far from selfish.

So what do you do? Remove or modify everything and everyone that impedes you from being your best. It doesn’t mean ditching everything in your life. Just like a car needs a tune-up, from time to time, your life does too. Sometimes relationships have to be renegotiated. However, the ultimate goal is to be your best. If a situation or person doesn’t allow you to be your best, then you may have to start over or get rid of a bit of clutter. Can you imagine somebody saying that he loves you if he doesn’t want you to be your best? However, don’t expect somebody to automatically know what you need to be your best. As I said, you may need to have a heart-to-heart conversation to change things. Don’t negotiate for second best and don’t accept anything but the best. You are worth it.

But I don’t want to hurt anyone, might be your reply. Being honest about wanting the best for yourself so you can give it away should not hurt anybody. If anybody is trying to prevent you from being your best, then something is wrong with him, not you.

We have been given our life on earth as a precious gift. Like land, if we cultivate it wisely and take care of it, the crop will be plentiful. However, if we allow others to sow seeds on our plot that makes our gift less fruitful, we have willingly participated in one of the tragedies that can happen in life – a person who is not allowed to pursue his destiny by allowing somebody to control his God-given talents.

Love and Light

Picture yourself in a dark room. You can’t see anything. Somebody turns on a light. Is the room lit? Yes. Then another light is turned on. Is the room lit? Yes, even more. Again and again, lights are turned on in the room.

Here is the question. Will there be a point in this process where you can no longer put more light in the room? I am not talking about whether you would be able to perceive that the room was brighter. Like sound, our eyes can only take in a certain amount. Would there be a saturation point where no more light energy could be put in that space?

It is an interesting question. Regardless of the answer, you can still add a lot of light in any space and know that there is room for a lot more.

Can we not say the same about the heart and love? No matter how much love we have, can we not put more into our lives? Isn’t it time to start turning on more lights?

The Three Loves

C. S. Lewis wrote a book called The Four Loves. He based it on the four words in Greek to express the one word we have in English, love. I understand what he is saying, yet often love is a bit more complicated. Often the loves that Lewis speaks about are intertwined.

In trying to understand love, I have come to a realization that seems to work for me. Essentially there are three loves.

There is a love that will do whatever it can to try to avoid pain. I don’t want to lose a job that I love, for example, so I will do whatever it takes to prevent myself from losing it. I may have to learn many things along the way. I will certainly have to change. I may have to do things I wouldn’t normally do. I will do anything because I don’t want to lose my job and suffer the discomfort. I will even try to make the object of my desire feel guilty for my shortcomings. Fear drives this love. This love says, “Please don’t hurt me. I’ll love you.”

The second love is one that gives in order to receive. It goes something like this. If you love me then you will do this and that. If you don’t do this or that, then I won’t love you. Flowers and chocolates can often be given with the expectation of a reward. Whatever is given, there is a price tag that comes with it. Greed and desire drive this love. This love says, “I love you, so show me you love me.”

The third love just gives. It expects nothing in return. In fact, people don’t even have to accept it. It is simply placed at their feet for them to accept or reject. It offers the total freedom to be themselves. There are no strings attached. The recipient has to meet no demands. In some cases, the recipient is in no position to give back. I see it in workers who go out on cold nights to give soup to street people. I’m not so sure what drives this love. This love doesn’t say anything. It just does.

Which love do you think exists in the world the most? Which one do you think comes along once in a blue moon? Which one do you think is the easiest to reject? Why?

What the world needs now,
Is love, sweet love,
It's the only thing that there's just too little of.
What the world needs now,
Is love, sweet love,
No, not just for some but for everyone.

In the lyrics to the song, What The World Needs Now, which of the three loves does the world really need now?

Rather than give my answers, I think it is more important for you to answer the questions yourself.

You Can Fly If You Try

I had the privilege of hearing the late Jack Donahue speak at a coaching conference. He was the type of individual who touched your heart in ways you couldn’t forget. He inspired many Canadians in his role as our national basketball coach.

He talked about how important it was to be positive in life. When he chose assistants to travel with the team on the road, he looked for people who would be able to see the best in every situation.

“When it is pouring rain and he is getting soaking wet, I want the kind of person who will check his pockets for fish. If he is being chased up a tree by a bear, I want him to get to the top and remark how beautiful the view is.”

Another saying he gave in his speech was:
If you have the mind to conceive it,
And the heart to believe it,
Then you can achieve it.
To which he added, “You can fly if you try.”

He told how he once had a guard on the national team who was exceptional, but wanted to be an individual and not do what was best for the team. In practice, he would continually disobey instructions and improvise, especially one particular play they had devised.

Jack took the lad aside and said some think like this. “In tonight’s game, the guard on our national team will be executing the play just like we did in practice. You have the choice of whether you want to be that guard or not.” Apparently, the player got the message and did what was best for the team.

I remember this story because I know what many other coaches would have done. What he did was state the facts and let the player decide. Jack was always about his players.

Jack Donahue died in 2003. As one person put it: While Jack was known as a basketball coach, his real role was a "LIFE EDUCATOR".

The Basketball Game

I am terrible at basketball. You can imagine, then, how shocked I was when Kelly, another teacher, came up to me and asked me if I would coach the grade 7 basketball team. I gave him every excuse I could, but when he said that the kids couldn’t play without a coach and I was the last resort, I gave in.

We actually won our first game. I had no idea of what I was doing. I freely rotated the players in. Sometimes they played guard, then the next shift they might be a forward. A tall student, who was in our school for only a month, made the difference. My team came off the floor elated. That was soon to change the next week.

Our next game was against Tomahawk, a fitting name for the school, because they chopped us into pieces. The final score – it is still burned into my memory – was 62-13. Their attack was so fierce and our defence so weak, the surprise is that we had time to score 13 points. As we limped back to our cars to take us home, I had to walk through the opposition’s dressing room. They were laughing at us.

When I got into the car with some of my players, I was upset. The parent, who was also the guidance counsellor at the local high school, sensed that something was wrong and asked. I told him very firmly that I had heard the other team laugh at us and we were going to beat them the next time. He said something about setting realistic expectations for the children and I retorted that nobody laughs at our efforts without a strong reply.

We practised for the next couple of weeks. Actually, my knowledge of basketball was so feeble, we just played a scrub game among ourselves.

As the big game approached, I suddenly got an idea. One of the Tomahawk players was really short. All of the others hovered over my players. If we forced the short player to bring the ball up the court, he would have to pass it into the key over my players’ outstretched hands to his comrades, something that would be difficult to do compared with the open spaces at the other end. Would it work? I had no idea.

At our final practice before the game, I decided to see what my players thought. I outlined the plan and expressed my confidence in it, and then I asked, “What do you think? Do you think it will work?” Immediately I saw 8 minds digesting what I had said and coming to their own conclusions. The answer was that they figured it would work.

I did one other thing. We had no uniforms. My players looked like a garment table at a bargain-basement store. I robbed the student council of some t-shirts and gave them to the kids. They were pleased that they now all looked the same. They were a team.

We went into the game with our battle plan memorized. If one of the taller Tomahawk players got the ball in their end, we would swarm him and any other player he passed it to until it was passed to the short kid. Then, we would let him bring the ball up the court and try to pass it into the key, the area where most baskets are made, at least, at this age level.

It worked! Time after time, we blocked passes that just didn’t go high enough to pass over our outstretched arms. At the end of the game, the score was 16-16. We had to go into overtime. I called my players over to give them a pep talk. They gave me one. One of them said, “Don’t worry, Mr. Stevens, we’re going to win this game.” And they did just that.

When the game was over, several teachers told me that we had just done something very special. I knew. I could see it written all over my players’ faces. They had learned that you could overcome obstacles in life, no matter how impossible they may seem.

I wasn’t content. I knew that I wasn’t a great basketball coach. I wanted to know why it worked. Here is the best I can figure.

1. I didn’t let the words of the parent discourage me. Right from the beginning, I knew my goal and I stuck to it.
2. I created a plan. This seems simple, but if you fail to plan, you plan to fail.
3. I didn’t just give the plan to my players, but I asked them to make it their plan. Put another way, it became their vision, not just something that was mine.
4. I did something that made them feel like a team when I gave them the t-shirts.
5. I let them have fun conquering the other team. It was more important that they believed themselves that they could do it that my believing.

We played Tomahawk one more time that year. It was the regional tournament. While we kept the score respectful, we didn’t win. Quite simply, they were a better team on that day. Still, all of us had learned a valuable lesson that season from a basketball coach knew who nothing about the game.

Post-It Notes

I have had the good fortune to travel many places in the world. I have also had the opportunity to meet many people. As I look back through the years, I fondly remember the effect that each one had on me.

In today’s world, it is often difficult to maintain relationships and friendships. It almost seems as if life gets in the way.

It’s sort of like each person puts a post-it note on your life. Sometimes the wind comes along and blows a few away. The rain destroys a few more. There may even been times when the cold winter snows makes a few more fall.

It is important that each post-it note faces these hardships. Most will fall, but there will be the few that hang on tenaciously. These are your true friends. They stick with you no matter what happens and remain with you forever. No adversity can loosen their grip on your life.

Two Sick Men

This is a story about two men who are sick.

The first man goes to the hospital and is told by a doctor, “You are going to die if you don’t take this medicine.”

The second man goes to a different hospital and is given the same medicine by another doctor who tells him, “You are going to live longer if you take this medicine.”

If you were the patient, which message would you like to hear? Which treatment would give you more hope about putting as much as you could into your life? Since the medicine is exactly the same, do you think one patient would have a better chance of recovery than the other? I can’t say for sure, but I do know which doctor I would like to return to for the follow-up visit.

When people go to church, it is like going to the hospital. Having moved around a lot, I have attended many in my lifetime. I also worked as a master control operator in television. On a typical Sunday, I would watch about six or seven televangelists and religious programs. I have seen every style and flavour of religion.

Many places of worship are like the first doctor. They tell me that I am going to die if I don’t do this or that. You know what? There are people who enjoy and need to hear this message. I am not one of them.

Why? In the earthly realm, I am going to die. So what I am going to do with my life? Am I going to sit and worry that I must do this exactly like this and exactly like that so I will be a good boy and go to heaven. Oh yes, and I have to spread the Good News. The only problem is that when it is put to me like that, the news doesn’t sound very good. The feeling is that as long as I stay confined in my tower, I will be guaranteed the joys of heaven, even if I feel trapped in this life.

I prefer a message much like the second doctor. I want to have the hope of a more abundant life. I want to live my faith with a passion, not because I feel I have to be a good boy to go to heaven. I may even do some wrong things along the way, but I will have tasted the essence of life.

I want the inspiration that caused fishermen to put down their nets and follow a complete stranger. It is hard to leave everything behind, especially when you don’t know what lies ahead. Maybe that’s why fishermen responded to the call instead of bakers who might worry how their customers would get their bread the next day. The wealthy would be concerned about leaving their collection of things behind, things they had worked hard to achieve. When you are a fisherman and don’t have much, there is less that holds you down.

Yes, I want life and I want it abundantly. I want the Good News to be good. I want to take chances now and again, knowing that I can be forgiven. I feel it is a greater sin to stay chained to a wall and not taste freedom, not to experience the breadth and depth of love that can be experienced in this world. I want to hear that I can fail, fall miserably on the ground and that there will be somebody to pick me up. I think it is more tragic when people don’t participate in the dance of life because they are afraid of falling. I want to hear that if I do this or that, I will live longer and better. I want to experience as many of the gifts life has to offer me before I die.

Are there people out there who will find flaws in my logic? Probably, just like there are doctors who scoff at some forms of alternate medicine. What is a potion for some will be poison for others.

At the end of it all, I try to follow the path that I feel leads me to my destiny in life even if it may not be paved and flat. I feel that I can do this joyfully if I believe that I will live a longer and better life if I take the proper medicine. I also feel it is just as important that I have a say in what medicine I take and that it isn’t jammed down my throat against my will.

The Subway Musician

I hear the approach of the thundering hoards
I strap on my guitar and I play the same chords
I’ve played hundreds of times before
Instinctively I know what they like to hear
And I flash them my smile and as they draw near
A few drop some money
And then they are gone
I’m a subway musician, didn’t finish my song

I adjust all my strings and await the next throng
The footsteps draw closer, so I start the same song
I play the same chords as my endless encore
I’ve played for 8 hours and my fingers are sore
I regard every person as a personal friend
A coin hits the cup
They pass, I end
My drink’s at my feet, I’m thirsty, I bend

Am I chasing an impossible dream?
I live for the music and though it may seem
There are hundreds more like me
Just wanting their breaks
I have the talent, I have what it takes.

An echo snaps me back to the dimly lit hall
My voice rasps the lyrics; I give it my all
I smile and I nod as the masses arrive
I keep pounding the strings ‘cause I have to survive
They go on their way, but I keep playing the tune
My mind’s now on a stage
The crowd’s in a rage
And I play the last note and then take a bow

Am I chasing an impossible dream?
I live for the music and though it may seem
There are hundreds more like me
Just wanting their breaks
I have the talent, I have what it takes.

I pack up my gear and I go on my way
I will soon be discovered, tomorrow’s the day
For a subway musician who still has some hope
As I jingle the change that will help me to cope

Pleasing Others

You can never please everyone. Some of us try, though. There is a great risk when you do this.

Walk up to people and ask them if they will help you. The smart ones will ask what you want them to do or say, “It depends.” However, most will agree to assist even before they know what you want. A lot of this is based on the relationship you have and their trust in you.

For those who are eager to please, we have to learn that no is an acceptable answer, too. Like the celebrity who is inundated with requests, we have to realize that we need time to ourselves and to follow our dreams. Yes, it is great helping somebody, but there are times that the person has to do it himself.

There is another reason to say no. If we are busy looking after the needs of others, then we may lose ourselves in the process.

Here is my logic. I have been given one life. In that life, I have a path I must follow. That path may be shared with somebody else, but it is still my path, too. If I merely try to please other people, my purpose in life may be diverted. I will be helping somebody or many people, but I will not be doing it with a joyful heart. I will become a slave to the other person’s life. There are people whose calling may be to give their life away. If that describes you, then so be it. If it doesn’t, don’t allow guilt to force you to do something that is not for you.

Does this mean never giving in? Of course not, but it does mean evaluating where that decision will be taking me.

When people squabble, they often come up with the quote, “Love thy neighbour.” The forget the last part, “as thyself.” I have to love myself to some degree. If I don’t love myself, then what I give to others is something that I don’t consider valuable. Loving yourself can mean doing nice things for yourself once in awhile. Again, you don’t have to feel guilty about it.

Finally, you can fall in a rut by trying to constantly please people. They can train you like a rat in a Skinner box to keep on trying to please them more and more. The less satisfied they are, the harder you will try to please them. That isn’t much of a life, is it?

It is noble to please others, but it is also noble in making sure you are good to yourself, too.

Gift Wrapping Yourself

I was fortunate to grow up in the 60s. It was a decade where a lot of change happened. It was a time when authority was often challenged. With wide eyes I watched carefully the canvas that was being painted in front of my eyes. I often felt that I was on the outside looking in.

With the British invasion in music, hairstyles and clothing became bolder and quite opposite to what had been there a decade before. The only problem was that I was pretty much the same as I had been a decade before. My hair was slightly longer, but there was no way I would have been mistaken for one of the Beatles. My wardrobe was supplied through Christmas gifts from my brothers and sisters. I certainly had no budget for clothing.

When I went to Ryerson, I took Radio and Television Arts. Many in my class embraced the artistic culture of the day. I felt quite insecure that I wasn’t like them.

I remember mentioning to my teacher, Mr. Desourdy that it really didn’t matter what you wore. It was what was in your heart that really counted. His reply was something that I still think was wise.

He said, “John, do you think what is inside you is beautiful?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Do you want people to discover the beautiful gift you have on the inside?” he countered.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Then the way you present yourself is like the wrapping on a gift. If you wrap it nicely, people are going to want to open it up. If you make it unattractive on the outside, then many may not discover just how beautiful you are on the inside.”

I have since learned that Mr. Desourdy was talking about more than clothing. He was talking about the whole package, including posture and your body language. Another factor is your smile. Unfortunately, there are times when many, including myself, are not aware of the message our gift-wrapping is giving.

If you present yourself in a manner that says that you don’t care about yourself, then don’t expect others to care about you. Yes, you may be very beautiful on the inside, but you have to wrap your gifts well if you want people to notice them.

Mr. Desourdy’s Voices

Maury Desourdy taught me announcing at Ryerson in 1969-70. He had a voice that was as smooth as felt being rubbed on a marble table. He was also a remarkable teacher.

One lesson I remember well was where we read and recorded the same commercial ten times. Our number one voice was to be our most boring, dead, dull voice we could imagine. Our number ten voice was the most ridiculous voice we could create. For our number five voice, we were to speak with what we thought was most suitable for radio, in essence our broadcasting voice.

There were more than ten of us in the class. You can imagine the marathon reading of this short commercial. By the time the last person faced the microphone, we were ready to flee the room.

After being subjected to the equivalent of hearing all of the verses of 99 bottles of beer on the wall, we didn’t look forward to the playback. That is until Mr. Desourdy gave us a little assignment. He gave us sheets of paper numbered one to ten. We were to write the person reading the commercial in the provided space, then circle the voice number that we thought was the most suitable for radio.

The results were amazing! Remember, our number five voice was supposed to be the one that was what we felt was most suitable for radio. Guess what? Nobody succeeded. Nobody’s number five voice was interesting at all. Everybody was boring. The best anybody could come up with that captured the audience was a number seven voice. One poor soul, Nadine, didn’t achieve the desired delivery until the number nine voice, one shy of what she thought would be ridiculous.

What did we learn? We had to push ourselves well beyond what we thought was the normal speaking voice to have an interesting, refreshing delivery, one that would capture others and draw them in. We might feel like a fool doing so, because it meant going beyond our comfort zone. We might go too far and look silly. What is better, though, looking silly once in awhile or being boring all of the time? It wasn’t much of a choice.

I feel this has a direct application to our lives. It is very easy to live life using your number five voice. You chug right along and it becomes very comfortable to you. It is so comfortable that it can lull you to sleep. However, it isn’t until you extend yourself and take a few risks that things become interesting for you and for others. Yes, you might look foolish. You might even fall down. You might even lose a lot of things. However, along the way you just might gain the freedom from the things that make the difference between an ordinary life and an exceptional one. Also, you just might gain everything by taking the chance of doing something extraordinary. You will have to go outside your comfort zone to do this. Some can; many can not. Can you?

Where Did The Articles Go?

When you click on the dates to the left to view previous articles, it may appear as if I didn't write anything between December 31 and January 6. Such is not the case. To view the missing passages, you have to go down to the bottom of the January 6 entry and click on the hyperlink at the right that takes you to older posts.

Hopefully, you will see something that will make your day just a little bit brighter. Maybe you will discover the very words you need to encourage you in your situation, words that others may have missed because they didn't dig as deep.

We tend to do that with people, especially the first time we meet them. We form an impression immediately. Have you ever done this with somebody only to find that they are a much deeper person upon probing a bit more into their character? Just like my blog, try to take the time to search out the hidden nuggets in people. You could be surprised by what you find.

Love Your Neighbour

Whenever there is a dispute in a community, it seems somebody drags out the quote, “Love your neighbour.” The idea is to show everybody that somebody isn’t practising love in the situation.

However, they are missing two important words from the quote. It should read, “Love your neighbour as yourself.”

What does this mean? Here is how I take it.

Do you really love yourself? I remember being taught as a child that loving yourself was equal to being selfish. As I grew older, I found that this thought wasn’t necessarily true.

We all know people who are so into themselves that they don’t have any consideration or time for others. Everything is all about them. They are at the centre of their universe. I am not too fond of being around people who are this full of themselves.

We also know people who are so modest that their feelings about themselves are of little worth. I am even less fond of being around these people, and this includes myself when I feel this way.

I teach many kids who don’t love themselves. Being around them can really drag you down. The world seems suddenly gloomy and negative. There is no laughter.

I think it is important to love yourself. This means being confident of yourself. It means wanting the very best for yourself and not accepting any less.

Why, then, is it important to love yourself? For me, the reason is so that when I give my gifts to others, I feel I am giving something valuable.

Let’s pretend that I look upon myself as fine rubies. When I give my rubies to friends, relatives, even enemies, I know I am giving something precious. In most cases, they feel that they are getting something special.

Now let’s pretend that I look upon myself as gravel from the driveway. When I give this to others, I don’t feel very special. Unless the recipient is making a driveway, the gift isn’t deemed with much value.

Don’t feel guilty if you want to love yourself a lot. Anyway, there are enough people in the world who will try to make you feel small.

Give yourself a big hug today and tell yourself how wonderful you are.

Promises

I need your help with this one. I have jotted down a few things that I have given myself permission to do, but I want you to help contribute to that list. Please leave a comment. Let's have fun with this.

From this day forward, I will give myself permission to:
·Fall flat on my face as long as I am trying to do something
·Forgive myself for anything
·Dream of going to the remotest places on the Earth and believing that it can happen
·Do things without worrying about the approval of others
·Take risks that make me feel alive
·Eat dessert first, if I want to
·Cry when I am happy
·Cry when I am sad
·Dance wherever and whenever I want to and that means anywhere and anytime
·Explore the beliefs of others and allow them their freedom to do so
·Think so far outside of the box that people don’t even know there’s a box
·Tell anyone I love them as long as I mean it
·Say something nice to anyone as long as I mean it
·Accept myself for who I am

Ray Bennett

You’ve got to go visit Ray Bennett. That is what I tell our bed and breakfast guests when they come to St. Marys.

Certainly Ray is one of the better-looking men in St. Marys. I think he looks a lot like the singer Jack Jones. He owns the men’s clothing store in town and is the best advertisement for the quality he stocks.

The display in his store window is usually creative and tasteful. The building has some historical value, too.

These are all good reasons to visit Ray Bennett’s Men’s Wear, but that is not why I tell people to visit Ray.

If you meet Ray Bennett, he has that rare ability of making you feel better after you meet him than when you came into the store, even if you purchase nothing. I can attest to this. I often drop in just to say hello and get my “fix” of good will.

He advertises in the local newspapers. There is only a hint in his publicity that he sells clothing. The ads are called “Vest-Pocket Smile”, and usually include some wise saying like “there is no use looking at where you have just ploughed.”

So, how does he do it? He has that rare ability of making you feel like the most important person in the world once you enter into his store. There is always a cheery hello and a big smile. If you get in a conversation with him, he knows what is going on in the world and has valuable insights on most topics.

Ray has been in the clothing business for almost 50 years. One of these days he will retire, I guess. I hope it isn’t soon.

Paul Potts

You have a dream. I have a dream. We all have them. Paul Potts was able to realize his and there are many in the world who cheer this unlikely hero.

If you are unfamiliar with this man, he was the recent winner of the Britain’s Got Talent contest. Have a look at his first appearance.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NLF9iEXnBRo&NR=1

I have a neighbour who is really into opera. When I brought up the name of Paul Potts, I was surprised by his negative reaction. His face turned very sour and he stated that Potts was actually bad for opera.

Rightly or wrongly, he has adopted a Frasier and Niles approach to opera. I concede that he knows much, much more than I do about the subject. He also has a better understanding of what is good and what isn’t.

Perhaps Paul Potts doesn’t have the vocal talent of the best in the world. When you see him in the clip above, he certainly doesn’t present himself in the most positive way. He is shy and insecure, that is until he starts doing the one thing in the world he feels he is destined to do.

I think my neighbour is missing the point. Paul Potts is not about having the most beautiful voice in the world. He is not about years of training under some of the masters of the world. He is about the ordinary guy chasing his dream and succeeding against all odds. In the process, he introduces many of us to some of opera’s greatest pieces. That can’t be bad, can it? In the words of the song in the movie Flashdance, “Take your passion and make it happen.”

You can't argue that his passion moves others. Watch the clip again. Listen to the spontaneous eruption of the audience. Watch the emotions of the judges, especially the female one. If that isn't good for opera, I don't know what is.

The example of Paul Potts gives many of us the hope to press on towards our dream.

My dreams are all I have now
And I hope they will come true
I must have faith that they will happen
And the courage to see them through

Yes, the journey may be rough
With obstacles along the way
But I will take the steps towards them
And the adventure can start today

Who’s to say it cannot happen
There’s some who will say just that
I have the choice to believe them
And in the process fall flat

However, if I keep my vision
And keep saying I can do it
I will one day be standing tall
And saying “Yes, I knew it.”

In The Fog

It can creep up on you like a hunter pursuing his prey. You are driving along a road and suddenly the fog envelops your car. You are plunged into the uncomfortable realization that your visibility is severely reduced.

What can you do? If you stop, you run the risk of somebody crashing into the rear end of your car. Continuing on presents some danger, too, but it is usually the only option until you can find a spot where you can get off the road and into safety.

We found ourselves several years ago in a similar situation. We had to catch the ferry to Nova Scotia from Saint John, New Brunswick. We had reservations on the boat and there was no way we could be late. We had to continue on in the fog during the night or we would miss the voyage.

We made it with time to spare. How did I do it? I continued our forward progress, but instead of focussing on the unknown horizon in the fog, I concentrated on staying to the right of the line on the road close to me. I knew as long as I advanced and was to the right of the line I was pretty safe.

Many of you may be in a position in life where you are in a fog. You are surrounded by problems or a difficult situation and your goal in life has vanished into the clouds. Like the driver who is navigating through the fog, you don’t have a clue what is ahead. Stopping isn’t much of an option and there is no safe place to park your problem. Like the driver in the fog, you can still move forward, staying close to the line and staying on course to the right, creeping along day by day or minute by minute. You can have the confidence that you are making progress and that the fog will lift one day and you will be basking in the sunshine.

Happy New Year

For many this is a special day of the year.

It is a day when some are nursing the effects of a hangover.

On a more positive note, it is a time when many evaluate what happened in the last year. We are thankful for the abundance we have and put some of the bad moments behind us.

We also make a fresh start on the new year. Often these take the form of resolutions. We promise that we are going to do this or that. We look forward to what lies ahead.

Aside from realizing that I don’t have any 2008 calendars in my house at the moment, what really is so special about today? Why can’t I celebrate in the same way in May?

Can I not be thankful every day for the abundance I have?

Can I not put bad moments behind me every day?

Can I not make a fresh start every day the same way I do on January 1?

Can I not anticipate the joy of this day and what lies ahead tomorrow?

Yes, I wish everyone a happy new year. May it be filled with 365 New Year’s Days (except for those with hangovers)!