at the dam

Here is a picture of a crane that I took at the dam near my house. Had a little too much fun with photo shop; looks a little scary now. :)

inspire me thursday: light

I've been meaning to participate in Inspire Me Thursday for a long time. Now, I've had so much fun with the camera that I can't decide what photo to submit for this week's topic: light.

Today, I took this photo this afternoon while hanging outside with my dog. I chose this photo above the others I was considering because it had the most pleasing look sans photo shop. I like the way the light plays off of the water droplets.

Wanna be inspired? Go to www.inspiremethursday.com

In minor ways we differ, in major we're the same

My last post got me to thinking a little more about Maya Angelou's words on the human condition. I decided to post her beautiful poem. The picture is one I took at the creek today. I think it is fitting, except that they are ducks.

Human Family, by Maya Angelou
I note the obvious differences
in the human family.
Some of us are serious,
some thrive on comedy.

Some declare their lives are lived
as true profundity,
and others claim they really live
the real reality.

The variety of our skin tones
can confuse, bemuse, delight,
brown and pink and beige and purple,
tan and blue and white.

I've sailed upon the seven seas
and stopped in every land,
I've seen the wonders of the world
not yet one common man.

I know ten thousand women
called Jane and Mary Jane,
but I've not seen any two
who really were the same.

Mirror twins are different
although their features jibe,
and lovers think quite different thoughts
while lying side by side.

We love and lose in China,
we weep on England's moors,
and laugh and moan in Guinea,
and thrive on Spanish shores.

We seek success in Finland,
are born and die in Maine.
In minor ways we differ,
in major we're the same.

I note the obvious differences
between each sort and type,
but we are more alike, my friends,
than we are unalike.

We are more alike, my friends,
than we are unalike.

We are more alike, my friends,
than we are unalike.

we are family.

My brother came to visit a couple of weeks ago, and we all had the best time. (He's coming again this weekend) I think he had fun. We cooked out, and Tyler got to get his "roll on", rolling his wheelchair all over the courtyard; it is not usual for him to get that much freedom, one of the downfalls of a handicap like this.

Other than the fact that we refuse to live in the suburbs (you either get this or you don't), finding something that worked well for our special situation was probably the biggest factor in the apartment/community that we chose to live in. I wanted something that was obviously handicap accessible (which is not as common as you may think), and then I also wanted a really safe neighborhood where I wouldn't be worried to take him for walks alone. You might be surprised how vulnerable you feel when it's you and then a 170lb individual who is 100% wheelchair dependent. It was different when I could lift him on my own; now that he's outgrown me, not so much. I also wanted a place with a great courtyard, so that we could let him do his own thing, something he hardly ever gets to do. So, yes, we pay too much and it is a giant step up from the 300 sq ft basement apt we had back in KS, but it is worth every penny.

It is good for me, too, expands my mind some. I used to be such a judger of people who wanted conventional things (fancy schmancy cars, boob jobs), and let me tell you, my neighborhood is full of that. But, who am I to judge? Worse than any 'judgee,' I can tell you that. True, I have the most fun in like-minded company, but, like the Maya Angelou said, "We are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike." How can I want peace, yet not BE peace? "Be the change you wish to see in the world," Mahatma Gandhi said. Be the peace. Even to the plasticy ones.

Anyways, it took Tyler a long time to fall asleep. He just laid there, smiling at me when I came to check on him. Usually, I don't have him spend the night, but I believe I always will from now on because it was very special. I lay with him for awhile, and ran my fingers through his hair, like I did when we were little kids. Of course, he does not speak, but he smiles when I do this. As I've mentioned before, we were separated in childhood a couple of years after our parents divorced. The summer that it happened, we both went to visit my dad, as usual, but only I returned to Kansas. Every summer I came to visit, and leaving was the hardest thing to do. I remember my dad telling me that Tyler would wheel his chair around the house, looking for me after I had gone back home. I can't tell you how much it really felt like part of my soul was missing during that time; I was so used to him needing me, and then he was gone. He still needed me, I just wasn't there. I don't know why I felt so guilty, but it was overwhelming. I remember having dreams of his funeral, and I wasn't invited. Somewhere along the way, I healed; but it was still natural for me to come to him. I think that is just what we do for family, if they need us. Sure, it's inconvenient at times. Sure, it stands in the way of some of my dreams of running off to a lesser developed country to make my life by the beach. But, maybe the new plans, the plans that life is always throwing at us, are better than what I had invisioned in my finite mind. Like Joseph Campbell said, "We must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us."

electrolytes, underpants, apartment police

Yin and yang. The good side of the balance is that hot yoga has been going quite well! Not only can I totally make it through a class now without symptoms of heat exaustion, but the other day I did two! That's three hours of hot yoga, people! In between, I got almost a 2 hour break and a shower, but I'm hoping to be fit enough to be able to do back-to-back classes, b/c I won't have as much time for yoga once I go back to work and start my master's. I think how much better I'm doing now has something to do with being a little more fit, being more acclimated to the heat, and also that I've started drinking electrolytes during class.

Yang? I decided to delete that.

the very little I know.

I still have not wrapped my brain around this, which is why I haven't mentioned it. It is also why this will probably be short. A boy from my school died a highly publicized death last week. I did not teach him; we are a small urban middle school, though (an old building, built when middle schools were kept smaller), so everyone seems to know everyone somehow and the effects of tradgedy permeate. He died in a flood, and according to the news, as his parents and siblings watched helplessly. When my husband told me the news, the area of town where a boy had lost his life, my heart began to race. I signed into my work email for the first time this summer, selfishly pleading that it not be from my school, and especially not one of mine. Selfish, yes, but this was my auto reaction. And, when it sunk in that the child wasn't mine, I of course felt no better. Maybe because he his mine; we are all eachother's. I cannot imagine the loss felt by his family, his friends and even his teachers. Teachers love their kids fiercely; I wasn't always even aware of how strongly I felt about my students until something tapped into that well. The humbling moments. The moments that were sweet from the beginning. I remember the last day of classes, the dark cloud that floated over my lonely, child-less room...it hit me, quite suddenly, all of the times that I was not really "there," that my eyes didn't light up, that I didn't get how lucky I was (am). I guess that is what I have to offer now, which seems trite in comparison to what a family in my school community is going through...Of the little control I have, may I renew my view, my appreciation, my compassion for my students. For all people. May I see them in their best light. That is all I know for now. Peace.

Que Sarah, Sarah (link)

I've been following Sarah for about a year. Melanoma recently took her life, and I haven't really known what to say. I didn't know her well, but read her devoutely and with emotion.

If you read the comments on her blog from her husband's last post, you'll see that many people have a similar angle; it's amazing how we can be touched by someone we don't really know.

Today is her funeral, or better, a celebration of her life. If you haven't already, stop by her blog and read it start to finish. She is an inspiration. Obituary below.


Sarah Lynne Toller, age 30, beloved wife of Derek Kaskiw, lived her life to the full until Tuesday, June 12, 2007. Sarah is lovingly missed by her mother Pat Best and her husband Dave Best of Kingston; her father John Toller and brother Bryan Toller, both of London; grandparents Hall Snell of Kingston and Norah Toller of Ottawa; uncle Tony Snell and family of Richmond Hill, aunts Lynne Greene of Toronto and Cindy Snell of Montreal and their families. Sarah is also fondly remembered by her in-laws Garry and Elke Kaskiw and their entire family. Friends may call on Friday, June 22 from 7-9 p.m. at the James A. Harris Funeral Home, 220 St. James St. at Richmond, where a celebration of Sarah’s life will be held on Saturday, June 23 at 2:00 p.m. Visitation will also take place on Saturday, June 23 from 1:00 p.m. until 2:00 p.m. Cremation with interment later in London. A memorial donation to any of the following will be greatly appreciated: Canadian Melanoma Foundation, Canadian Cancer Society, Wellspring (London). Many thanks to Drs. Logan, Engel, Moulin and Gilchrist at LRCP, and Drs Schreier and Shetty and the Palliative Care team at Victoria Hospital for their honest and compassionate care. Thanks also to Kelly Stocks, RN, at ComCare for her kind and gentle home care. Special thanks to Tina Plat-Dekoter, Social Worker, LRCP, who journeyed with Sarah and Derek from the beginning and was always there to help when and where needed most.

Que Sera Sera, Que Sarah Sarah