Team sports/relationships

I went to watch university volleyball the other day, I don’t know that I have ever done that before? It was a nice change, but curiously what had me most bewildered was how often they touched each other, I mean I’ve watched some hockey, soccer, even football and yes when someone scores  there is tons of raw hurrah, butting heads, high fiving, belly bouncing, butt slapping, that kind of thing. Basically puffing themselves all up because they are the best, most ferocious, fastest animal on the Sahara. Chest thumping kind of stuff, after all most of us belief we  have evolved from chimps. But watching volleyball, everytime, everytime … a serve ends, which I suppose also means a point is scored so I suppose like a goal, …but there are soooo many of them, 25 for each match/set what ever they are called and then there are 5 of them. So there is a lot of bum patting, hugging, high fiving etc, and it is kind of like having a glass of wine and making a toast and trying to chink glasses with everyone, every single time, each member of the team tries to have some physical contact with each and every team member, and that is whether their team got the point or the other team? Okay good for them, they don’t want any one to feel bad for missing the ball, hitting the net while serving or what ever. To me that seems kind of like when we celebrate “Graduation” from Day Care, Kindergarten, etc, not just High School or College or University, a little over kill. Or it’s like your child playing sports and no one wins or loses, they just get participation awards…..To me this seemed very strange, but then I am not much of a team sport kind of person. I was on the gymnastic team and on the track team, but there you still preform as an individual, “The Team” would not necessarily feel let down if I didn’t place in hurdles, or the 100 yard dash.

Since this seemed rather unusual to me, it had me wondering past that, the last relationship I was in the fellow was a team sport kind of guy, to me he needed reinforcement, “That a boy” type of encouragement for even the smallest of things, I wasn’t really use to that and found it needy, different perspectives, he had played Volleyball and Hockey, maybe this was just what he saw as normal? He insisted that I back him, even if he was wrong, in front of others (support the team I guess kind of mentality)….not going to happen. This was an interesting way of looking at our differences and why maybe they existed. If I did something and took on a project he would refer to it as “We” did what ever it was.

I have all my life been a very independent person, not a crowd follower, not someone who succumbs to peer pressure. I march to my own drum, I am true to myself. I remember one of my friends in high school said that if I wasn’t going to drink when we went out to a party, I could at least “pretend” to be drunk….how silly, no I would not be doing that. Heck, even my Mom, one drive into Vancouver said to me, “You know Yvette, it’s okay to have a drink when your out” Wow, a Mom encouraging their child to drink! She was concerned I guess about me fitting in. Yes, everyone probably wants to feel like they “belong” but to me I wasn’t going to sacrifice my beliefs just to fit in. What did I believe? I believed I could have fun, enjoy myself with out drugs or alcohol. I’m not saying I never ever drank or had experiences with alcohol that weren’t stellar, but I certainly never drank, just because others were and I didn’t drink often.

Too me, being a sheep, a follower, just wasn’t something I admired. That’s how all kinds of horrible things have happened in history, genocides, mob riots, gang rapes… to me it is much more important that people think for themselves, and follow their hearts and own morals.

I bet I have hit a few cords with others on this one, but that is what makes this world so interesting, isn’t it? We are all so different.

 

Tears. I wonder?

My daughter called yesterday. She was suppose to be running off to a baby shower soon, and remembered she was suppose to bring advice for the new mother. She called me, ( I think this is the 2nd shower she has called me for this, being as she is not a mother yet). “Mom, remember when you said that, tears must help us heal? That maybe we should eat or drink them?”

“Honestly, no, I don’t remember saying that, but it does sound rather interesting”, I said to her, “and yes, I can imagine me saying something like that.” Probably after one of them (my children) had had a good cry. I often felt while I had young children how fortunate it was to relive childhood through their eyes, especially the wonder and curiosity, for an adult it’s like looking through fresh eyes, seeing again. I can imagine me, wondering at the time, just “Why” do we cry? Our bodies are so miraculous, healing cuts and bruises by themselves, our bodies regenerating the cells in our bodies every 7 years, that we can create new life, such a complicated being, all without effort. So why do we cry? What purpose are tears?

We cry when we are hurt badly, when we are very sad, sometimes when we are very happy, sometimes when we are relieved after being scared, afraid, worried and that has proved not necessary, the being afraid, worried or scared. Definitely tears express emotion, and they definitely are a release, a release of salty water. Salty water is something we might gargle with to help heal a sore throat. Salt draws things out, absorbs moisture. Does it absorb toxins, germs,…. bad feelings?

I remember when I was going to my sister’s funeral, my first funeral. My sister died at 17, quickly, and we were all very unprepared for that. Walking in for the funeral my mother said to me poke me if I start to cry. Poke me if I start to cry…. how sad, not to allow yourself to cry at your own child’s funeral, how ingrained that to cry is a weakness that you should not show. Probably the most heart wrench thing to experience to have your child die. To cry, to have an avenue for release of all those emotions we were all feeling, that would have helped I’m sure in the healing process.

I am certainly not much of a cryer, but I think, that it is a letting go, at least when it is a sad or hurtful thing you are experiencing.

I remember watching my daughter at gymnastics and I had her two brothers there as well, they were playing on the sidelines with some other children. My youngest got hurt, (not badly), fell I think, and came running back to me on the bleachers crying. I listened while he told me what happened and showed me where it hurt, I kissed his “booboo” better and the tears stopped and off he went again to play some more. Another mother of an only child looked at me like I was a miracle Mom, how did you do that? Do what I asked? Get him to stop crying? I just listened, and acknowledged his pain, he just needed to know someone cared and was there for him, not a biggy. Children stumble and fall all the time, I suppose we all do in a way throughout life, and sometimes that is all we need someone to listen and care.

Are tears magic? Maybe, I still don’t know the answer. We do sometimes cry when we are overcome with joy, surely we wouldn’t want to release that emotion? Maybe that’s the answer, maybe with ‘too much’ joy we need a release valve too?

I know when I am feeling down, I do my best to visualize a moment of ‘joy’ in my life, to see it, to feel it, to re-create that moment, and I can feel the corners of my mouth turn up and that warm fuzzy feeling starting to come back and push that sadness away. I hope we all have a moment, actually many moments we can remember experiencing “joy” such a wonderful emotion. Children, definitely bring us many gifts, and “joy” is one of them.

Absolutely nothing wrong with tears, nor do they show weakness or strength, they show emotion, they’re a human trait

Tears,  still a wonder…are they magical. Is there more to them than meets the eye?

Chopping wood, building forts and more

My sister and I met with my Aunt yesterday. She was telling us how shocked her girls were that she knew how to stack wood. Stack wood she thought, I can fell a tree, chop it stack it, we had a huge boiler and wood stove to keep a wood pile for, there was never an end to work.

My sister and I remember visiting that house. As my sister said she always remembered that as a huge boiler, but maybe that was because we were small at the time. “Oh No,” my Aunt replied, “it was huge! You could put 1/2 a tree into it.”
Nancy. my sister recalled the drying rack over the wood stove. I remembered chasing or being chased by my Uncle, probably playing tag, and I fell on to some cleared shrub brush, off to the hospital for stitches, which came out on my 5th birthday, right after the party, what an ending. I remember my sister swinging on the Tarzan rope, she started to lose her grip and asked my other Uncle to catch her, but he didn’t realize she was losing her grip and didn’t, she fell and broke her arm or collar bone.
My Grandparents had a blue berry orchard there, kind of fitting that when I moved to Manitoba, I ended up running a 5 acre saskatoon berry farm for 19 years. I can understand the work involved with that alone, thank goodness I didn’t have to chop wood to heat our house and for the stove as well.
So glad we didn’t grow up in the “Good Old Days”, memories of others I hear don’t sound all that great. I am glad my children got to grow up at the family farm in Manitoba, in that they got to really run around and explore nature. I especially liked how they built forts. They had several, one long one nature provided in the tree shelter row, where the trees grew so close that not enough light could get into the bottom of the row so the branches died off and there was a long above ground tunnel with evergreen canopy, and a blanket of spruce needles at the bottom, a perfect place for bird nests as well. A magical place. They built some forts with scraps of lumber up in the willows by the slough, with horizontal scraps used to create a ladder so they could get up high. The creaking of the willows always making an interesting sound. There was another fort in front of the house near the saskatoons a good place to have a look out from. There was also the one they built, or dug down by the dug out, it was deep, big, quite a feat. Those forts sure kept them occupied for hours and days on end.
Snow forts were quite an adventure as well, when younger just shovelling and heaping up snow and digging into them, how many people could they fit inside? Quite a few, and it would be pretty cosy. Don’t think they ever slept in one over night but I know it had been the plan from time to time.
As they got older they advanced to using sheets of plywood for forms that they would fill with snow, amazing forts.
Then of course, there was jumping into piles of fresh heaped snow, just like jumping into leaves, the older they could the higher the piles and the higher they would jump from. Jumping off of the 2nd floor balcony. One day a friend was over and there was a big pile of snow over by the granaries. He decided to jump off the granary into the pile of snow……on top of that for some strange reason, he decided to do it in barefeet!!!! I was called after he jumped, feet first up to his neck practically and he was wanting out. Quickly we dug and freed him, he was fine but his feet hurt, go figure, sometimes snow crystals are almost like glass, add the cold and he was feeling a burning sensation. Silly guy, he didn’t do that again at our house that I’m aware of but he was (still is I imagine) coming up with interesting things to try, no lack of adventure there.
Out doors a never ending play ground and place to explore. Watching their cats hunt, the stealth, the patience, how close they could flatten themselves out to the ground and spring up in an instance to catch a bird.. Seeing how quickly a dead animal is cleaned up by nature, it doesn’t last long.
Nature is a wonderful class room, and such a rejuvenating place to be. I’d rather be going on a walk through nature any day than the concrete jungle. Good memories.
Do you have a favorite memory of building forts, or learning from nature?

Time spent connecting in a special way

I remember my Mom’s friend Ellen making me a homemade birthday card, I don’t recall how old I was, just that it was special, it had an imp of a person, (me) hopping around on it and I had a funky red hat. The card I think had 3 parts or so to it, more than 2, I am sure, accordion folded. Don’t remember much more about it but to me it was very special, made just for me.

It inspired me to make a special book for one of my daughters young friends. We got together fairly often for play dates, all of us happy, enjoying each others company. At the same time I enjoyed reading Robert Munsch books to my children, so using them as a kind of model, I wrote about how Leigha lived on a farm, and her friends. I can’t remember all of it either. I believe I mentioned the wind through the wheat, and it was 10 or 12 pages long with images, using a couple of pieces of mat board for the cover. I’m not sure if she still has it, I kind of hope so, but at least I hope she has memories of it like I do of that card, so many years ago.
Just nice that someone put in an extra special effort to make something special for you.
Childhood, is full of magic moments. Like having your Dad show you how to whistle with a piece of grass or whittling a whistle from a piece of branch. I was 47 and still trying to find out how my Dad made that whistle, a fellow in the Yukon showed me and drew out instructions for me (my Dad was no longer around to ask). I didn’t realize you could only make them at a certain time of the year when you could separate the bark from the rest. I may have to see if I can still find those instructions this spring.
So many things to do, see explore. I hope I am always as curious as a child, asking, trying, inventing, being goofy, just because I can.

https://www.motherearthnews.com/diy/tools/carve-a-willow-whistle-ze0z1712zburg?utm_content=bufferb02bc&utm_medium=social&utm_source=pinterest.com&utm_campaign=buffer_men_pinterest

What is a special memory you have where someone did something for you or with you that made you feel special, noticed?