ON THE EDGE OF GLORY

 

Tulip is sitting on the edge of glory about to give birth to her first.

About nine months ago she was in an aqua yoga class in the local swimming pool.  She was in a crouching position with her hands on her head, looking up, then closing her eyes. She felt something powerful radiate through her whole body. She knew then and there a whole new beginning was about to happen.  She could hardly wait to get home.  A seed had been planted.

Day after day that seed began to sprout. Roots were embedding themselves into the fertile soil beneath her naked feet. Eventually the sapling developed tiny arms that were at first weak, and slowly became stronger. She dug her toes firmly into the ground determined to help it grow more and more roots, and to reach its full potential — much like a successful pregnancy going through the stages of growth trying not to worry, but almost always wondering if she was doing enough.

 

After the first trimester, the seedling developed stronger arms and feet, and a body that widened and rounded in good proportion. The certified Doula checked in now and then, and gave glowing reports.

The growth journey included regular check-ups, and went remarkably well with little need for added intervention. Yes there were occasional stresses, occasional worries, occasional doubts; but, all of that was easily overshadowed by the anticipated positive outcome.

As the final month approached, many other ‘doulas’ showed up. They each had a job to do and they each stayed focused on their roles so that when the water broke, the birth of a new beginning would be in very good hands. 

By now the readers of this story are firmly seated. Some might even be perplexed. But, they are all most certainly wondering when that magical new birth date would be.  They want to be ready to raise a flute filled with Prosecco, and echo a jubilant “PROOST! to new beginnings.”

Tulip is on the edge of glory as she imagines the sweet sounds of Enya music preparing the zygote inside of her for a successful entry into the world. For her, nine months definitely passed by easily and quickly. The experience of producing something from inside of her has been moving and enlightening through every phase. The help, support and encouragement from family, friends and even complete strangers, all along the way, has been phenomenal. Would she do it all over again — absolutely. 

“Keep the cycle going,” she replies.

ACCENTUATING LIFE

 

I had a flashback this morning as I finally got myself seriously focused on a task I have set aside for long enough. It really isn’t in my nature to procrastinate, but there are a few things in life that I just can’t get down to doing. I’m sure I am not alone in admitting this and now that I have, maybe others will own up to it as well.

So, I set out to figure out a way to motivate my mind to relax. I needed to convince it that not everything in life is easy and not everything is fun, but they are just things that need to be done.

At that point I stopped and remembered sitting in a grand Cathedral in Florence, Italy. I was drawn to it because I heard an intriguing sound echoing through the cobblestone street. It wasn’t instrumental, but definitely sounded musical. 

My curiosity got me to walk into a darkened amphitheater of sorts, with lit candles everywhere, a faint sense of incense, and a few people sitting in old wooden varnished brown chairs. They seemed to sit there like zombies, very calm and definitely quiet, as they listened to the vibrations of a chorus of vocal sounds coming from a group of robed men behind a huge altar. 

I sat there for what seemed like a very long time and the sounds went on to infinity. There was no break. It was mesmerizing and intriguing but when I felt like I was being drawn into a cult-like world, I got up and slowly walked out. 

A couple of monks were standing outside and I boldly asked them what that was all about. They explained it was a Gregorian Chant session to help anxious, worried, sad and grieving people relax. I thanked them for letting me know, and then I walked away, admitting to myself that I actually did feel very relaxed and appreciated learning something new. After all, I was only in my 30s and who knows when such an experience might come in handy.

Well I figured now is a good time to see if it can work for me when it comes to accomplishing unappealing, boring but necessary home-based tasks, that have been heavily on my mind for far too long. 

I googled “432 Gregorian chants” and UTube popped up with a three hour session. I sat back with both bare feet on the ground, both eyes closed and both of my arms spread out across my living room sofa. I’m not sure how long I stayed focused, but at some point I opened my eyes and said “okay, get to it.”

And, “Get to it” I did. With the chant continuing in the background, I got all the components of the task together in one place and said “you are not diverting to anything else until this is done.”

I think it only took me thirty minutes to complete the task, and now  when I think about all the times I nudged myself saying “yes yes it is on my To Do list”, postponing and postponing, and letting it bother me, I put my mind and body through so much angst!

The morale of this story is when you know something needs to be done — get relaxed and do it; when you know something needs to be said — get relaxed and say it. I’m all for making life a beautiful ride and 432 hz music, AquaYoga, QiGong, cycling and forest walks definitely work for me!

REMEMBERING MOTHERS

When our mothers pass from earth to sky

And we face life on our own

Don’t seek to answer the question “why?”

But realise we are not alone.

Their voice and spirit guide us through

Whatever comes our way

No matter what we did or do

We know just what they’d say.

“Stand tall and proud my sweet child

Keep doing the best you can

Living wild or living mild

What counts is where you land.”

Yes Mother dear you were so right

I’m where I’m supposed to be

You may now be out of sight

But your smile I clearly see.

Happy Mother’s Day 

Antoinetta DeWit

May 2024

RISE UP/WISE UP

 

LESSONS LEARNED OR LESSONS LINGERING

Recently I set out to find out more about why the Japanese came to British Columbia in the late 1800s. I attended a presentation at the local library entitled “History of the Japanese in Ridge Meadows,” and what a great history lesson it was.

Back in the late 1800s, British Columbia was a basically new place to develop and settle. The province needed workers to build the great potential of the fishery, lumber and mining industries, and later workers to build the Trans Canada railway and highway. People of Japan received the news with open arms and sought this opportunity to carve out a better life for themselves and their families.

Initially things went great. They were welcomed and appreciated, until it became obvious that there were excelling exponentially in their business acumen and seemingly dominating in terms of success. Community and workplace spats and fights turned to bigotry and racism. Discriminatory laws were passed to salvage ‘white’ supremacy, and the lives of the Japanese became sad, scary and lonely.

Then, suddenly, when Japan bombed Pearl Harbour things got even worse. Anyone that was or looked Japanese was triggered as a spy or enemy. Drastic measures were taken. Paranoia plagued the world and panic led public policy decision making.

One such example was the plight of all Japanese and people of Japanese descent in the coastal regions of British Columbia— including Maple Ridge. They were hurriedly packed up like herds of cattle, and either imprisoned, interned in remote camps or left to settle with nothing but the shirts on their back in inland communities. Their properties and belongings were seized and sold. The government made sure they were thinly spread around remote areas so they could not congregate, plot or strategize ways to communicate information to or from Japan.

Yet, despite their sadness, fear and loneliness, they persevered in the worst of circumstances and conditions. Although they had been marginalized and racialised, they steadfastly rebuilt their lives, settled in new places, and learned how to live through the atrocities before them. Very few ultimately returned to Japan and, in 1949 when restrictions were lifted, even fewer returned to the coastal regions. They are proud people.

We can only guess at the very real impact the state betrayal, and the community prejudice, judgement and racism, had on an innocent group of people with different skin colour and facial features. And, what about the impact on the generations of Canadians of Japanese descent that followed? Is everyone now supposed to forget about it, pretend it didn’t happen or even minimize the impact?

The Japanese story in British Columbia is not unique. Such atrocities happened all around the world. It is only now when subsequent generations of reasonable thinking people have stepped to the plate and said “Hey wait a minute!”, that retribution and some forms of reconciliation or settlement measures have taken place — socially and politically.

Apologies and retribution have been accomplished for the Japanese story — that whole process went very quickly and smoothly because it was a no brainer to do so.

Presentations like this one about the Japanese don’t only take place to inform and educate the audience about something Japan-specific. They are instrumental in opening eyes and ears to parallel examples that for generations have been ignored or overlooked. That said: let’s all hope we can keep those informed brain cells healthy and alive to bring the other shameful political, social and human atrocities we all know about — to resolution as well.

Rise up and wise up!