Letting Go...

Peonies
William Merritt Chase
1903

One of my biggest problems is that I have never been able to live in the past. I am not a collector of memorabilia. I don't save ticket stubs or mementoes of any kind. The past is the past. I once read a book by Stephen King called "The Langoliers". A group of ten people on a flight from Los Angeles to Boston are caught in a time warp, and are living four minutes in the past. Everything is colorless, food is tasteless, and the passengers are trapped in a deadened, lifeless world of a past timestream. The Langoliers' job was to erase moments in time that have already passed into history. That is how I feel about the past. It is the past. All of us have a past, and we have good memories and perhaps not so good memories. But that is really all they are -- memories. We live in the present. The past is gone -- gobbled up by the Langoliers. The past should stay in the past.

I have difficulty understanding people who are so entrenched in the past, they have lost the ability to live in the present. I know so many people are like that, and I don't understand it. I work with people who are always bemoaning the fact that "Things were so much better here 25 years ago." Well, no they weren't. Does anyone remember carbon paper? It was unforgiving. But these folks are convinced that the past was better. Of course, things always look better -- or worse -- from the distance of several years.

People will often hold onto negative things from the past as well, and this is where the concept of forgiveness comes in. I struggle with forgiveness all the time, but thankfully because I do not hold onto the past, I am able to let go of things. Forgiveness is not for the individual who has harmed us, but rather it is for us -- the forgiver. When we forgive, we are able to let go of the negative feelings -- anger and resentment -- that create poisonous chemicals that flow through our bodies. When we hold onto these feelings, the only people we are harming is ourselves. These chemicals can kill us. We cannot be responsible for the things that people do to us, but we can take responsibility for how we let them affect us. We can also make sure that we do not perpetuate the damage done to us. We can just let it go.

I believe life is to be enjoyed. We all deserve a measure of happiness and serenity. We are the only ones who can give that to ourselves. No one else. The most fortunate people are the ones who have figured that out.

Like Watching Paint Dry -- A Tour Of My Treehouse Terrace

Of all the ridiculous things, "Forbes Magazine" has voted Kitsilano Beach in Vancouver the third sexiest beach in the world. Oh, goodness, what will they think of next?. Just when you think things can't get any sillier -- they do. The number one sexiest beach was South Beach in Miami, and number two was Main Beach in East Hampton, New York.

"Vancouver's Kitsilano Beach is where sexy locals and Hollywood interlopers relish the opportunity to peel down to their swimsuits and flaunt what they've got among the sand, beachwood and mountain vistas," the article says. Kits Beach is graced by hedonistic frenzy — when the July and August sun heats this intoxicating nexus of sea, forest and mountains." ... Forbes Magazine

Hedonistic frenzy?

Well, I guess that's why I avoid Kits Beach in July and August, and stay right here in my little treehouse. Not much hedonistic frenzy here, and that's just fine with me. It's quiet, it's peaceful, and it's the best place to be in the middle of the summer. So, at the risk of boring the tar out of you, here is a tour of my little treehouse terrace, taken today -- on a summer morning.

Dinner With My Niece

The other night I had dinner with my niece, at Bridges, a wonderful restaurant on Granville Island. It was a lovely evening with excellent food, delightful company, fabulous ambience -- all the things that make up a perfect evening. My niece and I don't see each other as often as I would like, so when we get together, we have lots of catching up to do. It was a rainy evening, and we were seated by the window and next to the fireplace. It doesn't get any better than that.

The menu in the upstairs formal dining room was an interesting concept. For a set price, we could order appetizers, a choice of entrée and a choice of dessert. The appetizers were particularly interesting, because the chef sent out an assortment of wonderful things, but the one I absolutely loved the most was watermelon and feta salad. Yes! It's delicious and very refreshing. The combination of sweet watermelon, salty feta cheese and tart balsamic vinegar will make your tastebuds do the dance of joy. It's a fabulous salad for a summer evening and very easy to make. And you can substitute the feta cheese with low-fat feta cheese, and it's just as good.

Ingredients:
• Per serving:
• 3/4 - 1 cup of cold watermelon, cubed
• 1/4 cup of feta cheese, crumbled or cubed
• 1/4 medium red onion, cut in paper-thin slices
• 1/4 teaspoon of balsamic vinegar or balsamic vinaigrette

Preparation:
Place the watermelon in a bowl, top with most of the onions, then the feta cheese. Place remaining onions on top. Sprinkle with balsamic vinegar, and serve. This recipe can be made in individual servings or multiplied and served in a large salad bowl.

Today is my niece's birthday. I remember the summer morning when my brother called to tell me she was born, and now she has grown up to be a lovely young woman.

Happy Birthday, Colleen...!

What Might Have Been -- Revolutionary Road

Some women, no matter how hard they try, are not cut out to be housewives. Now -- before I go any further, please let me emphasize that this is not a criticism of women who choose to stay at home. When my daughter was small, I would have given anything to be able to stay home, and be there when she got home from school, but it was not to be. I admire and even envy women who can do that. But, for some women it is not the life they choose. When I watched "Revolutionary Road", Kate Winslet's character, April Wheeler, reminded me of my mother. My mother was a talented artist, and her dream was to study in Paris. When she was 23, she had booked passage on an ocean liner and was ready to set sail for Paris, and her father stopped her. For the rest of her life, my mother had a faraway look of quiet desperation in her eyes.

April Wheeler has it all, the beautiful house, two children, a husband whom she loves -- but it is not enough. She also has that faraway look in her eyes. Her husband, Frank, has settled for a job he hates -- he has become "The Man in the Grey Flannel Suit", riding the commuter train into the city every day. April tries to convince him to leave it all behind, take their two children, and start again in Paris, but Frank is not convinced.

April: "Don't you see? That's the whole idea! You'll be able to do what you should have been allowed to do seven years ago, you'll have the time. For the first time in your life, you'll have the time to find out what it is you actually want to do. And when you figure it out, you'll have the time and the freedom, to start doing."

Frank: "This doesn't seem very realistic.

April: "No, Frank. This is what's unrealistic. It's unrealistic for a man with a fine mind to go on working year after year at a job he can't stand. Coming home to a place he can't stand, to a wife who's equally unable to stand the same things. And you know what the worst part of it is? Our whole existence here is based on this great premise that we're special. They we're superior to the whole thing. But we're not. We're just like everyone else! We bought into the same, ridiculous delusion. That we have to resign from life and settle down the moment we have children. And we've been punishing each other for it."

This movie broke my heart, because there are so many people who do not fit into the so-called "American (Canadian) dream". My mother was one of them. Women in the 1950s and 1960s were beginning to see that they had other options if they wanted them. But they were trapped. They turned to pills and alcohol (mother's little helpers) to get them through their days -- and nights. In my mother's case, she created a beautiful home and garden, and she was a wonderful chef and hostess. She used her artistic abilities to make everything perfect. But she always had that far-away look in her eyes, and for days -- sometimes weeks on end -- she would disappear into a deep depression and shut herself away from her family. Those were the times, I imagine, when she would think about "what might have been".

Women still struggle with this issue today, even though there are no limitations to what they are able to do. That's why a movie like "Revolutionary Road" is still relevant, and it touches a chord with everyone. If you have a chance to see it, you may see your parents, or even yourselves, in April and Frank Wheeler.

Michael Jackson ... Mass Hysteria

Am I the only one who doesn't understand the mass hysteria over Michael Jackson? I don't get it. Michael Jackson has been washed up, musically and artistically speaking, for over a decade. We have witnessed the spectacle of his disgrace and humiliation in both his public and private life, and the world turned its back on him and called him "Wacko Jacko" -- amongst other things -- just when he needed them most. Not long ago, an auction of his personal items generated no interest whatsoever.

Michael Jackson was a fabulously talented and amazing singer and dancer, and his "Thriller" album is still one of the best albums ever produced. It is still such a good album, I bought a copy for Phinnaeus and Marigold a couple of years ago. But "Thriller" was really Michael Jackson's last relevant album, and it was almost 30 years ago. Of course, everyone feels terrible that he died at such a relatively young age, but what on on earth is generating this over-the-top deification of an entertainer? Could there be a modicum of guilt involved?

I don't mean to sound mean-spirited, but I just don't get it... What am I missing?

The Sounds Of Silence...

The End of Dinner
1913
Jules-Alexandre Grün

Occasionally I like to treat myself and go out for lunch, or perhaps a light dinner on my way home from work. Whenever I am in a noisy restaurant, I find myself wondering what conversation must have been like in a lovely dining room during, say, the Edwardian era. I often think I would like to transport myself into the painting on this post, and join in the conversations these folks are having. I think they must be discussing all sorts of interesting topics, all the while being witty and charming.

The other afternoon I visited my favorite Japanese restaurant not far from my home. The restaurant has a wonderful ambience, delicious food, superb service, and soft traditional Japanese music playing in the background. Everything about it is perfect. But the day I was there, I was seated not far from a table of young women in their early twenties. There was one woman in particular who never stopped talking, I was watching to see if she was even able to breathe, she prattled on so much -- about nothing. And of course, she had to speak loudly enough so that not only everyone at her table heard her, but everyone else in the restaurant. It gave me such a headache, I had to leave.

Has anyone else noticed lately that people seem to be getting louder? No one listens anymore, they talk more, but they say less. It's just babble to fill the air. People seem to be losing the gift of making conversation. I think conversation should be speaking with someone, rather than "talking at" them, but I have noticed that conversation now seems to consist of someone jabbering away at people, rather than engaging them in a to-and-fro exchange of thoughts and ideas. We are held captive by the rapid-fire talker, who spews words at us like bullets from a machine gun, and there's no escape. Any attempt to engage them in conversation with us is futile, because -- they're not listening.

The young lady in the Japanese restaurant chattered away at her three companions, completely unaware that they looked like deer caught in the headlights of a car. Do we owe this lost art of conversation to the fact that we are living in a louder society, and we have to talk louder in order to be heard? Or perhaps we are so used to watching the "talking heads" on TV that we subconsciously emulate them when we speak with people, and we think we're making conversation.

Ah ... sometimes I love the sounds of silence.

Introspection

Rooms by the Sea
Edward Hopper
1951
Yale University Art Gallery
New Haven, Connecticut

Isn't this a wonderful painting? It's very simple, but one can feel the ocean breezes blowing in through the open door. I love living near the ocean. There is something about the sea breezes that puts everything in my life into perspective. I have been feeling a bit -- unsociable -- lately, and I have not meant to appear that way. I haven't visited any of your fabulous blogs, and I have not had time to respond to your comments on mine, but I appreciate them all. What lovely people live in the blogging world...! You're all fabulous.

I have had to make some decisions about a few things in my life, and a few recent events have -- shall we say -- nudged me towards my decision. But sometimes that is what we need, isn't it, or else we stay within our comfort zone. I love that term. My friend Russell, with whom I have long, interesting and wonderful conversations, has another term that is so appropriate. "You can't unring a bell..." Yes, its so true. Or, in the words of Omar Khayyám ...

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it

So, I say ... I will make my decision ... and then I will eat copious amounts of ice cream with chocolate sauce, whipped cream, sprinkles and a cherry on top. It always works for me.

I went for a stroll to Kitsilano Beach recently, and I discovered I could take a little video with my camera, and I managed to upload it to YouTube, et voila! There's no stopping me now...!

Think Before You Speak

When I was a little girl, and I might have done something "bad", my mother always used to tell me I was naughty. Oh, goodness, if I heard that word once, I heard it a hundred thousand times. I think all children are born innocent and are not inherently naughty, but they do manage to get themselves into trouble by being overly curious, or perhaps imitating what other children are doing. Or perhaps they haven't been taught the difference between right and wrong yet. I don't think my mother meant any harm by saying what she did, but as a child, it was imbedded in my brain. The word "naughty" rang in my ears for many years, and I grew up thinking I was a bad person. I have always felt that I did not deserve all the good things that other people have, and I often describe the feeling as being "outside the candy store, looking inside at everyone else". Inside my heart, I know I am not a bad person, but perhaps rather to the contrary, I might actually be a good person.

My father used to get very upset with my mother at times, and he would take me for a ride in the car and tell me I was very much like his sister Evelyn, whom everyone loved. It would make me feel better about myself -- for a while, anyway. But it has always been a struggle for me, because I know I don't treat people badly, and in my heart I am not "naughty" and I always have good intentions.

Over the past few months, and perhaps couple of years, I have observed some behaviors by other people -- good people -- that have laid me flat with their selfishness and insensitivity. I know they meant no harm, but I have seen people do and say things that I would never do -- things that would be incomprehensible to me. It has made me realize as well, that we are all only human. Sometimes people's behaviors are based on lack of knowledge, or misinformation, or perhaps a misunderstanding of how other people will be affected.

I was having a conversation today with my friend Russell about the theory of "six degrees of separation". It is an interesting theory, and it made me realize how closely we are all connected, and how much everyone's behavior can have repercussions on others. The smallest thing can have a huge effect, and I always try to consider how my behavior, my actions or my speech will affect the people around me. I'm not perfect, but I try very hard not to hurt other people. I think sometimes we have a tendency to be overly critical of ouselves, and maybe sometimes we can realize we're not so bad after all.

Get Off My Lawn...!

I was never a huge Clint Eastwood fan, and in fact with his "spaghetti westerns" and his squinty-eyed "Dirty Harry" characters I thought he was almost a parody of himself. And then about 14 years ago, Clint Eastwood changed somehow. The only way I can describe it is that he grew up. And now, just when I have discovered how wonderful an actor he is, he has decided to retire and will not be acting anymore. "Gran Torino" was his final film as an actor. If you haven't seen it yet, my gosh -- rent it. It's on DVD now.

In the movie, Clint plays Walter Kowalski, a bigoted veteran of the Korean War, and a retired employee of a Detroit auto manufacturing plant. A Hmong family from Southeast Asia moves in next door, and he is not happy about it. He calls them every racial slur he knows. So, be prepared. But the Hmong family is undeterred and they win him over with their warmth and hospitality, and he discovers he loves them more than he does his own family. He takes them under his wing and in return for their wonderful cooking and his favorite chicken dumplings, he teaches them how to survive in America.

Clint Eastwood is a once (still?) handsome man who obviously hasn't had any "work" done on his face. His face is his main acting tool and throughout the movie, watching his face is like listening to a symphony by Beethoven or Mozart. Where were the Oscar folks when the movies were being considered for best picture, best actor, best director, best producer, best screenplay ... heck, Clint even sings in this movie, and he hasn't done that since "Paint Your Wagon".

You will fall in love with Walter Kowalski when you watch this movie, and Clint Eastwood really brings him to life.

Walter Kowalski: "Take these three items, some WD-40, a vice grip, and a roll of duct tape. Any man worth his salt can fix almost any problem with this stuff alone."

Throughout the movie, Clint pays homage to almost every movie he has ever made. It's fun to watch for the scenes where he does this, and the ending will knock you right out of your socks. If you haven't seen it, you're in for a treat.

Blowin' In The Wind...

Yesterday my friend Leslie and I started out on one of our excellent adventures, but the beaches were packed with wall-to-wall bodies, barbeques, frisbies ... etc. We went to the farthest reaches of Spanish Banks and Locarno, only to be stuck in traffic jams, and the wind was so fierce, I could barely see through the sand storm. We managed to find a log to hide behind, only to be bombarded by a loud boombox from the log next door, together with the pungent smell of cultured cigarettes ... um ... grass they were smoking. I actually started to feel a bit of a "buzz", and I had to move. I'm glad I wore my cozy red Canada Day sweater, because it was actually quite chilly. But it was wonderful to get outdoors and let the wind blow the cobwebs out of my head. Speaking of which, Charlotte has vacated her home, but it is still there. I will leave it up in case it comes back.

Have a wonderful day, everyone. I will be off to visit you on Saturday morning -- with my coffee.