Entitlement

I watched Tiger Woods' "confessional statement" with mixed feelings.  Once again the media machine was at work, but this time it was his pr people telling the story.

When the story first broke, I thought Woods should have made a curt statement such as, "This issue is between Elin and I and I will not talk publically about it."  I think in time, the issue would have died down.  All the women in the world could have come forward but if he said nothing publically, it's hardly a newsworthy story, it's media gossip.

Instead he spoke for around 13 minutes, in front of 40 people, many supporters of his and irritated many of the main stream media by taking no questions a big no no in a press conference.  But this was hardly a press conference.

As expected the media have been hard on him calling his "statement" insincere and a bad performance.  Female columnists have predictably, been the hardest on the cub.

One of the most telling comments the poor, flawed (and who isn't?) Woods made was that he strayed from his Buddhist teachings and felt he was entitled to behave the way he did.  He's in therapy apparently for "sex addiction."

Some have chosen to focus on this new disease as the real reason for his indiscretions which I find absurd.  Is this really a medically documented disease?  Or more to the point is it a celebrity disease of "entitlement?"

I hope Woods can go back to his Bhuddist teachings and get back on track.  I thank him for reminding the world that none of us are "entitled" to anything. 

"Fulfillment of desire is an illusion; desire leads to more desire, not satisfaction."


- Kathleen McDonald, "How to Meditate"

Linda Grace

Valentine's Day

I know many of my single friends out there feel the way I do about Valentine's Day. There was a time I felt like was on the edge of a big circular crowd, struggling to see what was going in the middle.  There was a longing to climb over people and just see what was happening, see what I was missing.

Now my thoughts are not so much about what I'm missing but about what I have.  My Father once told me he felt I was "unlucky" in love.  Perhaps.  Maybe I have been unlucky in "Romantic" love.  I have made up for it though in the love of family, my little dog and friends.  It is a permanent kind of love, not a fleeting love or a smothering love but a love that changes over time, grows with you and is always there for you when you need them.

If you find that kind of love "romantically" you are truly blessed, but it is out there even for those of us who are single.  One of the tests of a great friendship is when you haven't seen each other for months or even years and when you come face to face, it is as though no time has passed at all.  There is much to catch up on, but there are no hard feelings or resentments.  I don't think you could do that in a marriage...well, if you could, it wouldn't be much of marriage.

When you live in the present moment (or try to) beauty becomes more distinguished.  Colours are brighter, silence only broken by birds chirping and creeks trickling while walking in the woods.  Natural sounds are love and bring great peace to those who really listen.

So don't feel lonely...feel alive!  Love comes in many disguises.

Thank you to all my friends who have posted messages or tried to post messages to my blog.  I am still ironing out a few problems with the blog but hope to get it solved soon.  I value your comments and always look forward to hearing from you.  Much Love, Linda Grace XX

Connections

Melissa and I chatted today about my earlier blog. It moved her to tears because she realized the horse in the picture was her Dad's horse. We have both lost our beloved Dads to diseases of the brain, and it is a sensitivity we share.

She knew the spot where the photo had been taken too. Top of the hill on Valley Farm Road. All we could say was, "Wow." After speaking with her, I thought, "The universe truly is a remarkable place."

I remember frolicking in Duffin's Creek with my little twin brothers, at the foot of Royal Road with Mr. Annan's cows drinking from the same creek. There were so many cows you couldn't see the grass. The water was so clean and clear that we swam in it and dove off rocks at its highest point.

I also remember a nasty girl named April who lived opposite the creek on Finch Ave. She stole my baby carriage and I remember vividly my first introduction to grand theft whenever I drive by her old house. My Mum Val was indignant at this miscarriage of justice and stormed down to Miss April's house and I think the thief returned my carriage, but not my baby, and after that my baby carriage was never the same to me. It was tainted...by thievery. Babysnatching in Pickering Village in the early 60's. Who knew???? I forgive April now, wherever she is (probably behind me with a sledge hammer lol).

My real babies more than make up for my plastic one, though I think of her often. I believe I named her Peanut. She was wearing one of my brother's newborn hospital gowns when she was so cruelly snatched out from under me. My question: Where were the Pickering cops? Was that not evidence enough? It was a tough lesson for a five year old. She likely ditched the gown. April was no dummy.

Linda Grace

Hmmm

It seems that I may have been interested in horses at a very young age. I remember this day clearly. I believe we were visiting friends who lived close to the Annan farm in Pickering. I had my fisher price medical bag and was assessing the health of the horse. I firmly told my Dad the horse was very sick, needed an apple and insisted we needed to come back the next day. Of course, there was nothing wrong with the horse. lol But we did go back the next day with an apple. Note my pathetic little pout that I know sealed the deal!

Linda Grace

Breathe

"Smile, breathe, and go slowly"
Thich Nhat Hanh

This morning I got up and felt anxious. Today was the day I was going to learn to saddle and mount Blackie. Now to most people, that doesn't sound like huge achievement but for me, it was.

My son decided to join me and take some photographs to record the event. I think he was taken by surprise by the sheer size of the horses in the stable. Blackie is not the largest horse, she's about a medium size horse - but still formidable in size.

We drove to the farm and my stomach was getting tighter as we approached. It was an absolutely freezing cold morning and I knew the arena would be even colder. As we drove I was thinking about my biggest fear. I was really scared of putting my foot in the stirup and then having it slip out as I swung my other leg over Blackie's back, landing me firmly on the ground.

Much to my relief, that did not happen!

The first thing Rose taught me were some grooming techniques. She introduced me to the "curry comb" (yes Menis, the curry comb lol I discovered it was not an Indian meal). She taught me how to properly comb the horse and Blackie clearly loved it as I circled the comb over her neck, back and sides. She kept bending her neck back to look at me with her beautiful big brown eyes, as if to say, "ooooh, that feels good..more, more more!"

Next, I learnt how to saddle the horse and place the reins over her head and up. Blackie lowered her neck obligingly. Then, I slowly walked her out of the stables and into the arena. I stopped myself from looking up at the ceiling because I figured I would see it soon enough once she tossed me to the ground. Blackie walked alongside me beautifully and I was careful not to get trod on by her massive hoofs.

I led her to the mounting block where Rose showed me how to put my foot in the stirup properly and swing my right leg over her back. I took a breath and said a silent prayer that this was not going to be a disaster captured on film by my son. As it turns out, it was so cold, the batteries froze in the camera so there are no pictures of my first time mounting and riding Blackie. There are witnesses however!

I swung my leg over Blackie and joy of joys I successfully landed my butt in the saddle! I felt like shouting WOO HOO but those of you who know me, know that I don't do that very well. lol I stroked Blackie on the neck and Rose gave me instructions on how to walk her. I grabbed the reins, pulled them close, nervously squeezed my legs into her side, made that tk tk sound and she began to move! My heart began pounding.

"Oh God," I thought. "This is it. She's going to figure out I don't know what I"m doing and bolt and I'm going to be tossed off and be on the ground looking up at that damn ceiling!"

Instead, I learned to pull the reins in the direction I wanted her to go and it worked! She went! As we walked I was really surprised at how smooth it was. I thought I was going to be jolted around, but not at all. The walk was smooth, graceful and peaceful. If Blackie sensed I was a rookie, she didn't show it. She was very patient with me. I did what I call a free dismount and I gave myself about a 7 out of 10. There was no mounting block to land on. I had to swing my leg over and slide down the side of Blackie to the ground. Again, I did it with no spills. It was a wonderful moment. My son watched as I fed Blackie a big fat carrot that she seemed to enjoy tremendously!

The best part of my first ride? The ride home. As we drove down the country road, my son looked over at me and said, "Good job today Mom...good job." "Thanks!" I said proudly. I was tired and my lungs were not working very well. And although I was proud of myself, the moment felt even better to think that my 14 year old boy was proud of me too! Wow. Breathe...well, I tried. lol

I'm not sure what Rose has planned for me next week, but I'm already feeling a little less anxious and looking forward to some more challenges and adventures with Blackie.

The first time...

...ever I saw your face? No. Well, maybe, because I feel like my friends are going to see my face for the first time in some respects.

Before I begin, I want to thank a few people who have sat back patiently and waited...a very long time for me to do something with my writing. This is my start. I want to thank my children who I hope I never embarrass or reveal too much.

I want to remember my late Dad, Robert Campbell Cousins who always believed I was an artist, encouraged my writing and worshiped me. How lucky was I? I miss him every minute of every day. My mother who is always there for me even when I don't want her to be, my 93 year old Granny who continues to inspire me, my brothers who are a big part of who I am, my non-blood sister, Melissa who loves me no matter what...she believes in me and it helps more than she'll ever know. My friends Clement and Jim, Mary, Bev, Gab and Mike, Mary Alice and Marce. You have all supported me, laughed with me and at me (that's okay!) and stayed the course. Please don't be offended if I haven't named you. You know who you are.

I want to say a very special thanks to Dr. Piyal Walpola and his wife Indie for introducing me to a new way of looking at my life through Buddhist teachings. It is a hard and difficult journey, but I am so very grateful for their friendship and guidance and for Dr. Walpola's special care.

So...where to begin? My life was born into drama and seems to have followed that course. I was a blue baby, struggled for my first breath, was born Asthmatic and that first struggle for life seems to have become a metaphor, albeit unwanted. I'm changing that pattern. Slowly, deliberately and with a wavering confidence that has also been my pattern.

The one thing I have known, from a very young age, is that I'm a writer. I simply love to write and I love words. If I don't write...I feel all is not well in this world. I learned as a very young age the power of words. I was a sick child....kids were cruel...very cruel. I learned that words can slice your skin like a sharp knife and leave a scar inside that does not heal.

Sometimes, my words can be cutting, sharp and hurtful. I try to save them and modify them later, but that has not always been the case. Words are the most powerful tool we have within us and I believe we have a responsibility to use them with care. I have not always been successful at that.

My words have also brought sentimental tears, comfort, humour and discussion. They are the words I'm most proud of.

Grace is my middle name. My mother fought to have it be my first name but she didn't win the fight. I think now, in my middle age, I am glad she didn't win. It takes years to find your "grace". I am only beginning to discover that.

There is nothing more "disgraceful" than losing your temper over nothing, arguing over something meaningless and leaving someone you love confused or hurt by your rantings. I have done that, and sadly, still do although not as frequently. Wendy has taught me to forgive myself and try to do better. That's all we can do. And I do try....to be the Grace I was born to be.

There is nothing more "graceful" than holding your baby for the first time, kissing away their tears, bathing them, dressing them, teaching them about higher powers so they understand "they" are not the world, offering up advice even when you know they aren't listening and finally, never letting them know how much you are truly suffering from burdens that are not for children's ears.

I hope I can share some of my insights, humour and observations of this crazy world that is mine and yours. I hope you will laugh with me and let me know when I'm "offside".

Here is to a new day!

My first thought is to tell you about my latest venture...well, truth be told, my only venture in about...oh, eleven years or so. I have taken up horseback riding. I met a lady named Rose who I believe can heal through horses. I have been going for three weeks now and learned some anatomy and how to communicate to a horse through touch and eye contact. She has chosen a 20 year old female horse named Blackie for me. Blackie is not an alpha. She leads by example not might. I took to her right away. This Wednesday, I will ride for the first time. I am excited and anxious but determined. I can do this. I will do this. Well, Blackie, Rose and I will do it together.

I can't wait for the day my kids and friends come to the Arena and see me ride and trot Blackie, with confidence and pride.

Thank you for reading my first Blog. Hopefully, it is not my last! Cheers and much love,

Linda Grace