Constructing Expectations

I’ve been watching this small condo go up these last few weeks.
Johnny Cash’s deep rich voice floated with the breeze the day this picture was taken. This condo is down the alley where the semi’s back their deliveries in.

Building a condo can’t be an easy task ~
starts with a vision, plans, blueprints, then sorting through all the steps to find a builder, hiring the workers, real estate agents.
Even if all of that comes in one construction company, all the human bits and parts, equipment and materials must still be in one place and on a time line ~ with of course, cooperation from the rain clouds.

The expectations are basic ~
For the builder - sales are expected.
For the buyers - a home is expected.

Personal expectations are not constructed as intentionally as a condo.
Childhood lessons from our early relationships begin to establish them, growing as we grow into our lives.
We bring them along with us into our homes when we move in.
Each experience along the way shapes our expectations - either shrinking or expanding them.
It always involves the matter of the response (or dance) we choose.

“Life calls the tune, we dance.”

~ John Galsworthy

Youthful Expectations - An Essay

March is Epilepsy month with Purple Day for Epilepsy Awareness on March 26. I pondered on what my expectations were when I was diagnosed with epilepsy. I remember sitting on an examination table in a hospital room or the doctor’s office, gown on and Dr. MacDougall standing in front of me.  I don’t remember even thinking of what epilepsy over a life time would mean. My only concern was an expectation from the 1960’s and earlier.  That a woman with a chronic disease or being pregnant or married would be dismissed from nursing school. At the time, I was a young nineteen year old mom, so societies rules had begun to change about the marriage and pregnancy things. But epilepsy?  I had only ever seen my older brother have a seizure and didn’t know much about his life.  I didn’t know about managing a personal health condition - only for others. And I only remember feeling very sad. My life was so messed up!

I went to, or was called in, speak with the Director of the Nursing School. Her words have stayed with me over these last many decades - ‘As long it doesn’t affect your work’ I would not be dismissed. The next ten years were not pleasant for me or for my young husband or my children: my epilepsy did seriously affect my family and friends. The unconscious nature of seizures as well as the confusion and memory loss for sometimes days following made me unaware of the impact that my health condition had on anyone else.

Education came slowly to me about managing this damaging chronic disease. Education and support is available now at many local and provincial epilepsy organizations for any age, for individuals with epilepsy or for a family member of someone afflicted with this disease.

In Victoria:  
Headway - Victoria Epilepsy and Parkinsons Society
http://www.vepc.bc.ca

“The roots of education are bitter, but the fruit is sweet.”

~ Aristotle

Beacon Hill Children’s Farm AGM 2015

I had guests tonight. We met in my tiny living room one block from Beacon Hill Park.  I’ve posted many pictures of some of the wild life and the beauty of Beacon Hill Park over the years. But at this meeting, we talked about goats and potbellied pigs, fences and barns, parking and sawdust. A gathering of the Board of Beacon Hill Children’s Farm for the Annual General Meeting reviewed the successes and a few disappointments of the last year, all the hard work with farm structures and city regulations. Some of us see each other only once a year, others frequently meet at the Farm. 

Being a volunteer member at the Farm, when the Board isn’t meeting, means keeping the Farm clean and tidy for the goats, chickens, pigs, llamas and whatever other farm animal visits the Farm each summer. Making sure everyone, feathered or four legged - and human, are fed and watered. 

Open on Friday, March 06, 2015 the Goat Stampede is back at full speed at 10:10 am and at  4:10 pm every day of the week. The only thing to prevent the Stampede will be the weather - if it rains too steadily the animals need to be kept in the barns to keep dry.

Beacon Hill Children’s Farm continues each year from the hard work and dedication of Linda and Dennis Koenders. They love and care for their animals with steady dedication. They care equally for the staff and the many volunteers that keep the Farm humming every day. Beacon Hill Children’s Farm has a Facebook page where you can see all the goings on at the Farm. I’ve shared, on Facebook, a video that was made just yesterday so that you see all the fun! If you missed my share, go the Farm’s Facebook page as it has been posted on there.

The picture with this post is from late April of 2014 in the afternoon  - must have been hot that day! Goats all tucked away in the cool afternoon shade of the barn. Come see us at the Farm some time!  It’s time very well spent - but only if you like to smile! Any expectations to remain sad while at the Farm will not necessarily be met! 

“Perseverance is the hard work you do after 

you get tired of doing the hard work you already did.”

~ Newt Gingrich

www.beaconhillchildrensfarm.ca

Out of the Mist

Driving home from an eye appointment this morning I thought I was calm.

City living comes with the expectations that there will only be noisy traffic, focussed cyclists, wandering pedestrians, 

jack hammers and shovels wielded by city workers,

traffic lights blinking red and green ~

An ambulance, lights flashing and sirens blaring

annoying cars not pulling over to let it scream its way to the emergency

But my eyes were lifted to mist covered mountains at the end of the city street to draw me past all the busyness of the city to calm waters and peaceful sky.

“In the madness, you have to find calm.”

~ Lupita Nyong’o

Book Review - The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt

The Goldfinch is a painting by Carel Fabritius painted in 1634. This small painting survived two different explosions. This story is about Theo Decker, who survived an explosion in a museum when he was thirteen. In that explosion, his mother was killed along with almost all others in the museum at the time. There was only one other survivor - Pippa, a girl the young Theo had been enamoured with in the museum when he was supposed to be interested in the painting. The painting was a favourite of Theo's mother. Pippa’s uncle Welty, who did not die immediately, lay fatally injured beside Theo in the fall out of the explosion. He gave him two things - a ring and an address. He also pointed to the small painting but was unable to say why it was important to him. In Theo’s pain and confusion, he took both the painting and the ring. The ring he finally returned to Hobie, who became a central figure in Theo’s story. The priceless painting, and his teenage love for Pippa, he clung to throughout his evolving growing up years.

This coming of age story of a boy physically and emotionally injured, storied the results of such severe trauma, as well as the results of scattered and often unreliable parental guidance and love. Theo's expectations of life, with adults and with himself were dramatically altered with the death of his mother. Theo Decker, was a young boy left to his own devices to grow up, wade through and survive an apparently hostile world.

This book and all of the characters were very real to me. The situations were often disturbing because of their reality. Discussion today at the book group I belong to was exciting and rich with many differing opinions of the story, the author and the seemingly limited editing. (The length of the book was called into question, however I read it in three weeks instead of my planned four weeks.)

“Stay away from the ones you love too much. 

Those are the ones who will kill you.”

~ Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch

Title: The Goldfinch

Author: Donna Tartt

Publisher: Little Brown and Company

    Hatchett Book Group

    littlebrown.com

First Edition: October, 2013

ISBN: 978-0-316-05543-7 (hard back)

ISBN: 978-0-316-23987-5 (large print)

ISBN: 978-0-316-23247-0 (international)

Type:  Fiction

Springing Forward

A good long walk and steady talk with friends on this foggy Monday morning
With a stop and lots more talk at the coffee shop to solve the worldly problems.
Then, the fog burned off, striding back to the car and home.

Quick lunch on the go back in the car to the pool
A 'dip' in the pool with women (and one man) of all ages
Cardio exercise for an hour in glittering, splashing water

Through all the day and all the city
bushes, shrubs and trees open with each ray of sun
daring to flaunt bright blossoming petals

My friends and I have blossomed throughout many springs 
expecting crumbling decay in our sixty’s, seventy’s and eighty’s
but our talks revealed ~ we’re still more like the flowers of springtime.

“Do not deprive me of my age. I have earned it.”

~ May Sarton, The Poet and the Donkey: A Novel

Gratitude Anonymous

Flowers on my table remind me of flowers we received

with kind note and “Thank you” to tell the reason why ~

A single name penned on a little card told of several sober years gone by.

Each day we treat and ‘pillow fluff’, at weeks end we say good bye ~ and maybe down the road a bit our door, again, swings wide.

A wife, a mother, an aunt or maybe sister dear 

brought flowers to us here today 

with thanks for a family together once more ~ 

a loved one's return to stay

Expectations that our door revolves~ never ever to slow and stop

have been doused in floral beauty ~ Gratitude shows there’s always hope.

“Remember, Hope is a good thing, maybe 

the best of  things, and no good thing ever dies.

~ Stephen King