Life in the Lower Mainland (BC, Canada)

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I got back from a week in Germany on Sunday, November 2nd, 2009. It was a crazy trip as my friend and I discovered that their father had passed away while we were out hiking. One of the things I found in Germany, and indeed everywhere I've ever been in Europe, is that people are the same everywhere. There's graffiti. People litter when it's inconvenient to go to the next garbage can. If you can't speak the local language, you're probably from North America. And everyone does the same thing with soup apparently. On the last night, my friend brought me and two of her closest friends to the Ratskellar in Bad Hersfeld where they ordered for me. They started me off with Ochsenschwanzsuppe , a soup which, with my limited German, I thought to be ox tongue soup, but turned out to be something surprisingly available in many cultures. When it came, there was no ox in it, just a couple of really thin dumplings. By the time it landed o

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I got back from a week in Germany on Sunday, November 2nd, 2009. It was a crazy trip as my friend and I discovered that their father had passed away while we were out hiking. One of the stories that was shared with me was about a person who hated, or was at least contemptuous, of his neighbour. But one day, his neighbour passed away. He contritely went over to convey his condolences and offer assistance but was turned away: A lifetime of ill-will had nursed resentment and bred distrust. It was even thought his gesture was a cunning attempt to improve his own reputation, to be seen as a respectful person even to someone he thought so little of. Perhaps he was really, at this too-late time, sorry for the relationship with his neighbour. Perhaps pride had gotten in the way of reconciliation when they were both alive, and somehow at his neighbour's death, when an olive branch wouldn't be met with rejection, it was easier for him to be sorry.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I got back from a week in Germany on Sunday, November 2nd, 2009. It was a crazy trip as my friend and I discovered that their father had passed away while we were out hiking. Yesterday I talked about how the universe had once moved me where I needed to be. The trip to Germany turned out to be just another incident of this, but with such longer strands of fate and timing that my friends have been amazed. I came out of my career change (about 10 years ago now) looking for a "helping-people" type position, and expanded my volunteering. I was with the ASK Friendship Centre (until a transit strike made going there too costly) and the Vancouver General Hospital STAT Centre . I joined the Burnaby Hospice Society , and later the Vancouver Crisis Centre (and I'm still there, eight years later...). All this volunteering gave me experience with seniors, some knowledge about bereavement, and crisis counselling. I also looked into Occupationa

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I got back from a week in Germany on Sunday, November 2nd, 2009. It was a crazy trip as my friend and I discovered that their father had passed away while we were out hiking. Long ago, I had an experience of the universe being in control of my life. I had had enough of a desk job that involved a lot of overtime and unappreciative employers. I made lots of money but had no time to enjoy it, and didn't have enough of a social life anyway. One day, I walked into Transitions , a career-change agency. There was exactly ONE spot left for their next class. On an impulse, I took it and gave my notice. I came out of it with a vague idea of a job, something involving helping people face-to-face. I bounced around and finally landed as a teaching assistant with King George International College for a while. The SARS crisis lost me my job, but shortly after, Drake Medox called me back to be a companion for a while. They specifically needed a male compan

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I got back from a week in Germany on Sunday, November 2nd, 2009. It was a crazy trip as my friend and I discovered that their father had passed away while we were out hiking. Long ago, I went on two major vacations. Once on a cruise to Alaska , and years later, on a bus tour in Europe (which I'll never do again since you spend the best part of the day in the bus, because no one wants to sleep on the bus at night, but they do sleep anyway during the long transit on the highways). The cruise turned out to be a lonely affair. The bus tour had you grouped with a bunch of mostly couples, so there was more of a chance to socialize. I remembered that the best time we had on that tour was when we pulled into Italy (if I remember correctly) in the evening. It was snowing. We had a bunch of South Africans who'd never seen snow, so we brought them out back to build a snowman. Naturally, the first thing that happened when we hit the snow was to get

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I got back from a week in Germany on Sunday, November 2nd, 2009. It was a crazy trip as my friend and I discovered that their father had passed away while we were out hiking. When someone passes away, the people closest to them often go through a period of mourning. This is typical, of course, and to be expected. But gawd, is it ever time-consuming! We plod around for days, weeks, maybe even months. Thinking sad thoughts, missing the person, possibly even blaming ourselves. In other types of loss, we are encouraged to live and learn, look for the upside, call it experience and move on. But not death. Even though everyone knows it's coming and we see it all around us every day. Dharma: ... What is the greatest wonder? ... Yudhishthira: ... Day after day countless people die. Yet the living wish to live forever... -- from the Mahabarata And grieving is all about us. You can say it's about honouring the dead, but they're dead an

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I got back from a week in Germany on Sunday, November 2nd, 2009. It was a crazy trip as my friend and I discovered that their father had passed away while we were out hiking. One of the things I saw in Germany was the profound sadness of unrequited love. There is a certain nobility in loyal love and persistent attention for "the one". Often we are wowed and inspired by stories of grand gestures and enduring patience ending in heartwarming love. When we read these stories, we already know that in the end it will work out to a happily-ever-after. When we're in it, however, it's different. We need persistence. But what if there really is no hope? That the other party simply doesn't feel the same way, and tries to tell us clearly and unambiguously that it will never be? How much persistence is enough, and how much is simply wasted time? For a long time now, I've decided that I will love my friends however much I feel love

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I got back from a week in Germany on Sunday, November 2nd, 2009. It was a crazy trip as my friend and I discovered that their father had passed away while we were out hiking. One of the things that came out -- that almost invariably comes out -- is how the deceased didn't have a good enough life. Often we are reminded that "you can't take it with you" and to enjoy life with whatever riches or resources we have amassed. The life unlived, so to speak. Especially when death comes unexpectedly. But what if that is what *we* want, and not what they wanted? What if travelling the world and is what is important to us, but not to them? For the person who passed away, perhaps they lived in quiet contentment, with the things they loved comfortably around them, life a comfortable routine of familiarity and ease. (Especially) in North America and our self-help-book culture, we are taught -- pushed -- to grow and expand and seek new experie

I ducked out to Germany for a week to see a friend, and landed back in Vancouver Sunday night. It was the best of times and the worst of times. On day three, my friend's father passed away, and we found him together. After that, I learned a few things that I always knew but never did pay enough attention to. Over the next few days, I'll blog about them... If for no other reason than to get it out of my system. I did just fine in Germany, but, combined with songs on the radio in the airplane that seemed to resonate with all that happened... I admit I cried on the way home. How music can move us sometimes. And how words can take on different meanings at different times in our lives.