Wise Woman Travel

Exploring the world from a female perspective


December 19, 2013

IMG_20131211_075651Snowsuit unzipped, mittens dangling, the little blonde boy stands rooted in front of the shuttered travel agency’s red and gold dazzled Christmas tree. People balancing coffee cups flow around him on their way to work in the mall’s shops and offices, gifting him with indulgent smiles. His ponytailed mother leans against a pillar a few feet away, flicking through her messages. She pockets her phone and reaches for the boy.

“Come on, Darien, let’s go.”

Without looking at her, Darien shoulder feints and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“I said we have to go.  Right now. You’re going to make me late for work.” She digs for one of Darien’s hands, and he collapses in a heap on the floor.

“NO! NO! I don’t want to go! I want to stay here!”

“And I say we’re going NOW.” She picks him up, dodging his flailing arms and winter boots.  The last I see and hear of them is her grimly tired face and his protesting shrieks, echoing up the escalator.

I’m sympathetic to Darien – and to Darien’s mom. Christmas can have a similar effect on me. I want to stand still, to experience its sparkle, to drink in its wonder.  But Christmas realities – too little  time, not enough money,  conflicting priorities and expectations -can dim the glow and turn the wonder into wonder why. Conversations I’ve overheard in recent weeks – on the bus, in restaurants, in office hallways and elevators – tell me I’m not the only one feeling seasonal tension. “I  told the kids  we just don’t have the money for gifts this year”; “If she thinks she’s going to tell me how to run Christmas in my house again this year….”; “I can’t believe it. My daughter just e-mailed last night to say she’s not coming home for Christmas after all. She couldn’t even bother to pick up the phone. What kind of a Christmas are we going to have now?”

I’m also aware that some people are struggling with darker seasonal circumstances.  A father is dying. A wife decides she doesn’t want to be a wife anymore.  A son is in jail.   When our lives feel  anything but merry and bright at Christmas,  where do we find the courage to cope?

I discovered a few possible answers to that question in an unlikely source. At work the other day, I was browsing a publication from the Justice Institute of British Columbia. Its introduction discussed the values of the BC public service, listing courage among them.  When I saw the  six suggestions for courageous behavior,  and thought back to some of my own challenging Christmases, I realized I may have stumbled on some practical wisdom for those in search of ways to restore a little seasonal comfort and joy to their lives.

1)  Be biased toward action: This publication reminded me that we might feel more courageous when we take courageous action. We might not be able to change our less-than-ideal seasonal circumstances, but we can work on how we respond to them.

2)  Look beyond the process to see the possible: In the achingly beautiful song River,  Joni Mitchell’s response to Christmas decorations and carols is a wistful wish for  “a river I could skate away on.” When our mood doesn’t match other people’s cheerful preparations, it can be tempting to simply turn and run.  A writer colleague of mine does just that, reserving a hotel room in Victoria and spending Christmas by himself.  An alternative to retreating might be to stay put, looking past old Christmas processes to new possibilities. The year my marriage dissolved, I grieved the end of many Christmas traditions. But then, I began volunteering at the local youth emergency shelter. At Christmas, the shelter put out a call for stuffed animals to put under the tree for the kids who couldn’t go home. I spent hours in toy departments, conducting huggability quality control on plush bears. In the process, I forgot my own sadness for a while and hoped my gifts would help the youth to  put aside their sorrow as well, however briefly .

3) Apply imagination: A few days ago, I visited an office in downtown Edmonton where I was delighted to find a highly creative response to the building’s ban on live Christmas trees. It reminded me of how powerful  resourcefulness can be when obstacles threaten to take away the parts of Christmas we’ve grown to love.IMG_20131210_100648

4)Take thoughtful risks in generating and implementing ideas:  It can be scary to  leave behind Christmas traditions, even when  they seem to have outlived their value. Scarier still when those traditions are cherished by those with whom you’ve shared them. I’m thinking here of the young woman I mentioned earlier who informed her parents by e-mail that she wouldn’t be coming home for Christmas.  Initiating an honest conversation about the changes you want to make can take great courage.  But your thoughtfulness gives an opportunity for everyone to have some input into the decision and possibly come to an amicable compromise.

5) Empower others to take initiative, even in uncertain times:  Feeling sad or lonely or disappointed at Christmas can impede our ability to generate and implement ideas. But you don’t have to figure things out by yourself.   A trusted friend, a good colleague, or a professional therapist can help you to decide how to take courageous action.  Sometimes, asking for help is the first and bravest step  in making a change.

6) Pursue a vision for the future: For me, having a plan is a great source of courage and strength. When I’ve had difficult Christmases, thinking about how I’d  cope the next year helped me to feel a little more in control. I always hoped my circumstances would improve but sometimes I realized they may be the start of a new version of normal.  Whatever the future held, I felt better able to face it with a plan in mind. 

And so I wish you courageous Christmas. If your Christmas doesn’t require any courage, maybe you have a bit you could spare for someone who’s coming up short this year.  Your donation could be one of the most important and appreciated gifts you’ve ever given.

(Please note that I am not a trained psychologist. This advice is based on the methods that have helped me and  some of the people I know to cope with difficult circumstances at Christmas. If your situation is extremely challenging, please contact a mental health professional  for assistance.) 

When I was a little girl, my mother and grandmother did their best to set me on the path of crafting excellence. They gave me wool and crochet hooks, embroidery hoops and thread, and endless hours of mostly patient mentoring. They sat me down at their sewing machines with scraps of practise cloth. But I …

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7:53 a.m. Downtown December rush. Step off the bus.  Cold like a slap in the face. Young guy, big parka, hood up. “Copy of the Metro, ma’am? Want to take a bunch for your staffroom table? I’m trying to get off the street as fast as I can today.” Walk light already on, late already, …

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December 3, 2013

_IGP8728I can remember exactly two times when I felt engaged with my public school science education. In grade 9, my older sister rescued me from my teacher’s complex written explanations of radiation, conduction, and convection. “Ok, Pam, think of it this way,” she said. “When you put your hand on top of the stove element, that’s conduction. When the sun comes in through the dining room window and warms up your back, that’s radiation. And when the heat from our fireplace escapes into the living room, that’s convection. Get it?” Well, that made a whole lot more sense to me than trying to figure out electromagnetic waves or vibrating atoms, and the next day, I nailed the exam question on heat transfer.

The following year, my biology teacher took our class to a marshy pond outside the city. In our rubber boots, we sloshed through tall grass and lily pads, and scooped up jars of murky water to take back to our lab. We dribbled  water from eyedroppers onto slides, and watched in awe through our microscopes as a community of organisms  whirred and crept across our field of view.  We sketched what we saw, and pored over manuals to identify the little creatures, competing with each other to see who had the most diverse collection.

Unfortunately, two engaging experiences in 12 years of school led me to conclude that science was not for me. Biology, chemistry, and physics seemed to exist mostly between the pages of battered, hardcover textbooks, and on dusty chalkboards of notes and formulae. Science was about memorizing facts and finding the right answer. Those facts  never seemed to be  a part of my day-to-day life, and so I opted out of the scientific world as quickly as I could, taking up permanent residency in the social sciences and humanities.

Fast forward to 2003. My husband has invited me to watch a new TV show called Mythbusters. “These two special effects guys use science to debunk urban myths and legends,” he enthuses, “and blow up a whole bunch of  stuff  in the process.” Internally, I heave a martyred sigh, but, in a nod to strengthening relationship bonds, I figure I can probably endure one episode.

It doesn’t take long before  I’m hooked.Concepts that bored me in high school- implementing the scientific method, building prototypes, consulting the table of elements – are reintroduced in the context of discrediting  YouTube scams, uncovering movie truth-stretching, and putting worn adages to the test. And yes, there are some spectacular explosions and collisions, delightfully detailed by multiple-angled, high speed cameras, and replayed in exquisite slow motion.

The show inspired me to consider how science instruction could be restructured to engage the kind of non-scientific student that I had been.  In my job as a post-secondary education instructor, I encouraged student teachers,  secondary school instructors, and university professors  to  use their students’ existing talents and interests to welcome them into the world of science. I found an article that connected poetry writing with the study of minerals, and a website that promoted keeping a sketch journal to record observations about the natural world. I played an hilarious student-made rap video on chem lab safety, and a parody of the Talking Heads’  Psycho Killer, in which ukelele-strumming, University of Alberta pediatrician, Sarah Forgie, musically  engages her medical students in the wise administration of antibiotics.

I have no way of knowing whether any of my ideas to breathe life into science teaching found their way into classrooms. But my own interest in the scientific world was kindled. So, a few months ago, when my husband mentioned that the Mythbusters were coming to town, I knew I had to be in the audience. We joined a sold-out crowd of families, university students, middle-aged couples, and seniors. When hosts Adam Savage and Jamie Hyneman bounded onto the stage, we greeted them like rock stars. ” A lot of people think that science is about facts,” said Savage, “but really it’s about relationships. ” “And when you play with those relationships,”chimed in Hyneman, “things get really interesting.”

For the next two hours, enthusiastic children of all ages joined the pair on stage to play with science. A tiny, bespectacled boy with a big sledge hammer bested the bell-ringing efforts of a man 5 times his age and weight. Two bike-riding men draped in plastic ponchos used pedal power to fill suspended water balloons which eventually drenched them from above.  A chubby-cheeked ten-year old had his mouth raspberry recorded by a high speed camera, and replayed in side-splitting slow motion.

At the end of the evening, Adam Savage told us that they often receive letters from kids wanting to know how to become a Mythbuster. “Read everything that interests you. Stay curious. And remember that science isn’t really about saying ‘Eureka.’ It’s more about saying, ‘Hmm…that’s funny.” Good advice, I thought, and hoped that more than a few science teachers were listening and taking notes.

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December 1, 2013

Like a bad joke, the magpie in our neighbor’s mountain ash catches my attention in a flash of black and white and red all over.

“Hey, Sister!” she squawks. “When’s that next post coming out?”

I sigh. “Last week was busy. Next week doesn’t look much better. I have a job, you know.”

“No need to get nasty,” she says.

“Sorry. Mid-week. Maybe. Possibly.”

“Just asking,” she mumbles, through the berries in her beak. “Just asking….”

We’ve settled into our seats for Theatre Network’s first play of the season, the world premiere of Colleen Murphy‘s Pig Girl. The stage is dimly lit, but we can see the interior of a wooden shed, its floorboards and roof jutting jaggedly towards us.  Bare bulbed light fixtures, coils of rope, chains, and a large hook …

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Re-entryEdmonton, Canada Edmonton, Canada It’s 5:40 a.m., and I’ve been awake for more than an hour. Of course, that’s what happens when you go to bed before 9 p.m. on a Friday night. My body thinks it’s still in Provence, and my brain wishes it were, so clearly there’s nothing else to do but get …

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An abundance of richesVillefranche-sur-Mer, France Villefranche-sur-Mer, France At dinner one night, I told Lorne that before we came to the Cote D’Azur, I had never seen skies in which most of the clouds were jet trails. Criss crossing over the Mediterranean with lattice-work fluffiness, they tantalize with unanswerable questions: Where are those planes headed? Where …

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Les reponses – Francais, ou pas Francais?Villefranche-sur-Mer, France Villefranche-sur-Mer, France Alors, have you made your guesses and tabulated your results on the French/Not French quiz? Thanks for playing, and I look forward to your feedback on our assessments. 1) Madame T-shirt and Fannypack: Not Francais. French women might wear such a T-shirt to do their …

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