Acknowledging

 

ARE TIMES A-changing?

Well tonight we in British Columbia, Canada are taking a bold step forward in moving forward our clocks for one last time. Like usual when a change is implemented, there is a surge of negativity which, sadly, seems to be the norm in modern society. It takes a heck of a lot of patience to tolerate negativity; but, with the backbone and determination of progressive thinkers, eventually the naysayers go back into their knolls until something else new comes along.

When it comes to change, I am an optimistic — albeit a cautious optimist. I once had high hopes that Canadians from coast to coast to coast would eventually embrace French-English bilingualism. It did not happen in most of western Canada but it sure feels good to be one who did and does. As a solo, I learned a lot and that’s a plus.

I once had high hopes that the political tide of my chosen political party would rise from the ashes. That was more than 40 years ago. It was a very long haul and massive change to come from zero wins to substantial wins. Then that too changed, and we are now bewitched with no pegs on the provincial political board once again. I learned a lot about people from that changing experience and that’s a plus.

So now this weekend we are supposed to be acknowledging International Women’s Day. I do acknowledge the day. I am a woman and when I compare what is now with what was then, times have changed for some, but progress continues to be slow. In fact progress is not even steady and often times it seems like a solo struggle to keep that light shining in civilized society— even that word “civilized” is an oxymoron when it comes to defining this topic. 

I think the purpose of declaring March 8 as International Women’s Day was to bring civility to society. When it comes to the lives of women and girls, generally, the realist side of me fails to feel civility. The movement started in the early 20th Century! We are now at 2026. Placate comes to mind. Tokenism. Crumbs. It’s best to soar solo like the eagle, rise from the ashes, change course, pave your own road because the intended international goal frightens the very people, locally, provincially and nationally, who can do something about it, with you or for you.

But I digress, or do I? My backbone and determination says: It’s time to change TIMES again, for one last time.

FOR THE LOVE OF POETRY

FOR THE LOVE OF POETRY

Why poetry? I am currently carefully reading Margaret Atwood’s Memoirs in which she spans many details of her entire personal and professional lives. It is very intriguing, interesting and inspiring.  There is one section that I just now read explaining her love of poetry.

I stopped after that chapter because poetry has always been a passion of mine. I can remember back in my high school days, poetry was hardly touched in the curriculum and when it was, it was likely in the month of June when time to cover the curriculum was running out, marks for the year had already been amassed; but, the teacher had to be sure we had something to do. Making poetry sound inspiring or important was difficult for teachers because they themselves had little or no experience nor pedagogical training.

At the time, I could feel a curiosity within me about poetry and a sadness that little time was spent on it. I decided  back then I would make time to figure it out later in life. 

Poetry is just something some human beings do, and I am one of them. I love the rhyme and rhythm type; they are like symmetry , balance, evenness, a mathematical equation in a way. All of those things are just how I love my life to be.

If I step off that balanced path, I feel my time is being wasted, I am heading into an abyss of sorts from which I may never return — swirling and swirling, twisting and turning, gasping for air. It is weird to admit, weird to hear me say it and probably weird for others to hear. My type of poetry and my life are existing as parallels. 

I call my poems ‘gifts to the receiver’ not to turn them into poets nor poetry lovers, but to exercise their minds beyond the distraction of the rhyme scheme. I think it is fair to say whatever time we spent on poetry during our school years was basically limited to identifying the rhyme scheme and memorization. 

Poetry is meant to exercise the mind, to expand our thinking beyond the obvious. It is meant to motivate, intrigue, inspire and interest the reader in ways not like any other. “Stop, Read, Listen, Think, Realise”

The message is likely not obvious nor literal. It may not always be personalized nor personified; it may well be off the paved path, a diversion, worldly, wild and weird. It will definitely be thought provoking and as such intellectually stimulating — if you let it.

For me, poetry is all of the above in addition to a mathematical exercise, a mathematical sentence where what is to the left of the equal sign matches that which to the right. What is to the right, however, is what is left for the reader to fill in. Make it balance.

Embrace it as a new form of playing solitaire. The magic is in how you play your cards.  [Thank you Margaret (Peggy) Atwood]

@MargaretAtwood

SPINNING VOICES

Getting it together means we must listen to our inner voice for guidance as we continue life’s journey, our life’s journey.

SPINNING VOICES

In my world of politics there’s lots of spin

The needed answers come from within

Within the body, the mind and the soul

We must focus on the ultimate goal.

Our lives are like that even as we grow old

We mustn’t allow that path to go cold

Listen to that voice within — every day

She knows what’s best — come what may.

Speak to that voice, feed her your thoughts

Hear that feedback as you continue to walk

It’s nature’s way to block out the negative

And zeros in on what’s truly imperative. 

You and her are what matters the most

She’ll walk you forward rather than coast!

Take a walk in the woods, sit on a trunk

Stretch up your arms, be sure not to slump.

You’ve got what it takes to live life with grace

Feel it in your head, heart, arms, legs and face,

Stay focused on what’s life’s ultimate goal

Love yourself completely in order to feel whole.

Antoinetta DeWit

February 2026

COMMUNITY SPIRIT

BINGO BINGO

This has been a whirlwind week of different activities from social, to personal to business to future planning, but the highlight has been a bonus night of community bingo at our Maple Ridge Library.

Although the once small town I moved to a few decades ago is no longer considered small, we do still hold on to small town activities like the occasional bingo night.

The games were to begin at 6 pm and since we had never gone before, and because we all know how popular bingo is, we decided it would be best to show up an hour early. We get there and the room door is locked. As we hold our ears to the wall, we hear a voice from behind say “are you here for bingo?”. 

The gal welcomes us and reminds us we are early. We chat back and forth with Marguerita, humourously, as she sets up the room, and agree to come back in half an hour. 

We cross over the street for a five dollar burrito take out, bring it to the bingo room where there were still no others, and we looked forward to winning all the games. But it was still ten minutes to game time.

At six pm a few more people came and by the time it was 6:10 we might have been around 15 when the first ball was called.

The ball dome was the smallest bingo ball dome we had ever seen and the balls were smaller than marbles. Three local grade 12 students undertook the calling process. They would spin the globe round and round, wait for a ball to drop, and call it. One had the voice of a whisper, one could not stop giggling and the other was a five star caller.

Midway through game one, more people were arriving and being accommodated. Everyone who knows me will know how annoyed I felt. Latecomers were a distraction from my attention spam, they slowed the game and they engaged in much conversation before sitting down to focus.

I tried to calm my inner self reminding me it is a small town, it is a free game, take it as a study of people for an upcoming story. Those thoughts were effective as I continued to cover my numbers, with translucent colourful chips, as they were called.

After game one, we were reminded there is a snack table at the back of the room: Bublé, chips, and gummies. Of course almost everyone was excited and went to gather their stash. My game companion and I did that before game time and turned the eye rolling interruption into a talking point. 

Finally the flow of the evening got back on track. Faye won a game and picked her prize — a mini deck of cards with dice, in a handy pouch. A few games later she won again and then me too. I picked an absorbent foam pad imprinted with the library motto: Read, Learn, Play.

Our new experience ended with a smile and a sense of community pride. It was a delightful event in a room of proud people enjoying the pleasures of how once small towns still celebrate. 

In the end, we were all winners.

OLYMPIC ENERGY

 

Red and White

The calming feel of red and white

Warmly envelopes the Olympic sites.

Athletes’ faces, strides of pride

Energy, laughter, tears on the side

Years of practice come to this place

We see it all — amazing race after race.

Red and white make spirits feel right

Hearts abeating, eyes shining bright

Whatever happens we all stand tall

For our athletes have given their all.

Harmony, courage and enduring pain

Are the makings of a nation’s name. 

A Proud Newfoundlander

 

𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐘𝐃𝐄

When I was on the Westcoast of the province of Newfoundland Labrador in August, I was walking along the one street town of Norris Point and spotted someone behind the tailgate of a truck. He was arranging fishing gear to make room for two buckets of freshly caught mackerel. I stopped, said good morning and asked my curious questions. He proudly held up a sample. 

I later learned he lived in the house next to where I was staying. We invited him and his family to dinner one night and it was a wonderful evening of family and Newfoundland stories. 

They were all warm and loving, kind and aware, proud and happy, but sadly today I learned 95 year old Clyde passed away. 

RIP CLyde … “I am because we were” thank you for enriching and enlightening me about your history, memories and love of being a very proud family man and Newfoundlander.

BIRD BRAIN

Bird call

I woke up this morning to the sound of little birds whistling outside my window. They know it is morning. They know mornings are beginnings of new days — new fresh air, new starts, new hopes, new plans. They sing: “get up! Time’s a wasting. We get another chance.”

The feeling is heartwarming and makes me rethink the expression “bird brain” because I think birds might be bright messengers to help earthlings get it right down here on Earth. After all, humans aren’t doing so well.

Every morning birds start their day with a tweeting song of joy and optimism. It wakes me up feeling encouraged and enthusiastic.  I perk up, raise my rested legs, swing them over to my awaiting soft, cozy slippers beside my bed. I look out, see those birds and say thanks for making sure I do my bit to make things right in our very troubled world.

Ignoring reality does not help. Pretending does not help. Denying does not help. Let’s face it, when has ignoring, pretending or denying ever really helped anything or anyone?

So then the question is could any one person have talked sense into the likes of hitler, stalin or biblical cain? Absolutely not. But something else, behind those scenes, was happening. It might have been the perpetrators’ eventual fatigue or exhaustion; but, I choose to believe it was the power of human optimism and confidence that positive energy would prevail. 

History shows us that wars don’t create peace. Atrocities accomplish nothing. Lying, cheating, and stealing create miserable lifestyles and lonely lives.

I googled “are birds intelligent?” It gave a whole new meaning to the expression “bird brain”. Here’s the answer: Despite having small brains, their dense neuron count and specialized brain structures facilitate high-level cognitive function. They are very aware and very smart.

Those morning birds outside my window are like fresh juice every morning. They fuel human minds with optimism and confidence. No matter how tough yesterday was, they keep coming back for another try. They just don’t give up. They have called it before and they are calling it now. Fuel up with positive energy and pass it on. Don’t give up. Don’t pretend. Don’t ignore. They are Mother Nature’s brightest messengers —Are we all listening? 

OUR EARTH, OUR PLANET

 𝓐 𝓟𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓝𝓮𝓮𝓭

𝒪𝓊𝓇 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓃𝑒𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓃 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝑔𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉 𝒹𝓊𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈

𝐵𝓁𝒶𝓃𝓀𝑒𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝓎 𝒶 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓊𝒹 𝑜𝒻 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈

𝐵𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒾𝓃, 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝑜𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓃 𝓈𝒶𝓎

𝐸𝓍𝒸𝑒𝓅𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓊𝓉𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓅𝑒𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓈 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓂𝒶𝓎.

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 “𝓈𝓊𝓅𝑒𝓇” 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝓁𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝒾𝓂𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈

𝒯𝓊𝓇𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓅𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓅𝓅𝑜𝓈𝒾𝓉𝑒

𝒮𝓊𝓅𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝒶𝒹, 𝓈𝓊𝓅𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝒸𝓀𝑒𝒹, 𝓈𝓎𝓂𝒷𝑜𝓁𝒾𝒸 𝓇𝑜𝓉

𝒟𝑜𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝓉

𝒲𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝑒𝓂𝓅𝓉𝓎 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓅𝓁𝑒𝓍𝑒𝒹-𝒻𝒾𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒹𝓈

𝐵𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓃𝑜 𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝒹

𝒜𝓇𝒷𝒾𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓇𝓎 𝑒𝓋𝒾𝓁, 𝒸𝒾𝓋𝒾𝓁 𝓉𝓊𝓇𝓂𝑜𝒾𝓁  𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝒷𝓈𝑜𝓁𝓊𝓉𝑒 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝒶𝓃𝒾𝓉𝓎

𝒜𝓇𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓌𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝓊𝓂𝒶𝓃𝒾𝓉𝓎.

𝒜 𝓂𝒾𝓇𝓇𝑜𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓃, 𝐻𝒾𝓉𝓁𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝒾𝒷𝓁𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁 𝒞𝒶𝒾𝓃

𝒜𝓉𝓇𝑜𝒸𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑒𝓈, 𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓃𝑜 𝒶𝓃𝓈𝓌𝑒𝓇𝓈, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓃

𝒯𝓇𝓊𝓉𝒽 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝓌𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒹, 𝓇𝑒𝒹𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓇 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝓁𝑒𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑜𝓉

𝒪𝓊𝓇 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓃𝑒𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝓇𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝓈𝑜 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝑜𝓈𝓉.

𝐼𝓉’𝓈 𝓈𝑜 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒻𝑜𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓅𝒶𝓉𝒽

𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓈𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝑒𝓍𝒶𝓂𝓅𝓁𝑒𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓇𝒾𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓌𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒽

𝒟𝑒𝓈𝓅𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓌𝑒 𝒹𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒

𝐼𝓃𝒽𝒶𝓁𝑒  𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓅𝑒𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝑜𝓃 𝒶 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝓃𝑒𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹.

𝒜𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓎𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓈

VENEZUELA 🇻🇪

 

STARTING OVER 🇻🇪 

Recently I dreamt something unusual happened in our southern hemisphere. The United States of America gave the South American country of Venezuela an opportunity for a fresh start. The mission shook the entire world. 

Eyes and ears opened. Mouths gasped. Arms raised high up to the sky and feet jumped high. We saw ensembles of pirouettes and long lines of salsa dances. The “us” and “them” became “we”; the “me me me” became “you and me”. Young and old, weak and strong, rich and poor stood side by side, holding hands, standing tall and confident, and ready to start again and determined to get it right.

Venezuela became a glass bowl of excitement, dismay, fear, and anxiety for a moment; then, suddenly, something else happened. The transformation of the economy started out in left field where everything grey turned green, everything black turned to gold and everything rock hard turned into sponges. 

A weird sense of calm sprang up everywhere and like confident trees in a healthy forest, beautifully coifed, sturdy and proud, humans clued in to a clear sense of how things can be done differently, cohesively and cooperatively, for a much better outcome. 

At some point I woke up, glanced out of the uncurtained bedroom window and saw a sheet of thin fog blanketing my backyard. Off in a distance I could see a dim light, a light of hope that my dream was indeed not a dream, but a sign of what was yet to come — it was the dawn of a new era, an awakening, a new starting point, a new chance to finally get Earthly civilianship, citizenship, stewardship and sustainability, on the same page, to work together in unison for the greater good of all forever more. In fact, it may well be a final opportunity to get it right.

I looked up with both eyes open and said: “Good Morning world. Let that light be a beacon leading to a paragon (an example of excellence) for all uncivil, unpeaceful, struggling nations to emulate.” 

As I stepped out of bed, I could hear a clear chorus of Larga vida a Venezuela! Pray let it be so.

🇻🇪 💡 ☮️ ❤️

🎆 🎇 🧨 FIREWORK WISDOM 🎆 🎇 🧨

🎆 🎇 🧨 

Thirty Minute 🎆 🎇 🧨 Fireworks!

A friend of mine posted something about fireworks the other day and added a photo of how she helps her dogs cope. A lot of pet owners can relate to her angst, and their angst, but although I don’t have pets, I was curious about the original intention of fireworks.

It actually goes back centuries. In many cultures, especially in Chinese tradition,  fireworks and firecrackers are specifically used to scare off evil spirits, ghosts, and demons. The explanation is rooted in ancient folklore, and is a short-term practice that symbolizes driving away negativity and welcoming good fortune for the new year. This tradition also appears in festivals like Diwali, symbolizing the victory of good over evil, and I am sure people from other walks of life can add examples — none of which lasts for more than thirty minutes and certainly not several nights in a row.

So, in other words, the noise of the fireworks scares away the bad things that define the year that was, clearing the air for a refresh for the year to come. Thirty minutes should be enough!

So an interesting question that comes out of all this is: how many onlookers who stand outside to watch fireworks or who stay indoors to “enjoy” the sights and sounds of fireworks, actually know that somewhere along the way, it’s become an expensive form of seemingly endless entertainment that negates the origins all together? Not only that — it’s a long night of ongoing noise that annoys a lot of people and pets, pollutes our atmosphere and, in some areas, leaves behind an enormous amount of debris that others have to clean up!

Fireworks have become one of those human examples of “redefinition with intention” or of turning something sacred into sacrilege ! If it must be, can we agree on thirty minutes?

 🎆 🎇 🧨