Remembrance Day: The Eviction

Earlier this week I wrote a blog about Remembrance Day and the circumstances surrounding Occupy Nova Scotia. Today I am going to recount for you, from my perspective, what happened on that infamous day in Halifax. I will do my best to be honest and unbiased. In 'The Deception' I had ended my recount as I was leaving Grand Parade after the ceremonies. I will continue from there.

After leaving Grand Parade, I returned to Victoria Park on my way home. When I arrived there, I was immediately pulled inside the Medical Tent by some officers (also mentioned in the The Deception) and handed a notice. The notice we were served explained that by-law P-600 would be enforced and that we were being evicted. I asked the officer, Sean Auld, how much time we had to move. He simply smirked in self-satisfaction and shrugged his shoulders. This was just before noon.

As police went tent to tent delivering notice, I began making phone calls to other members of ONS to try and determine our course of action. As time began to creep by, more and more police vehicles began to arrive on site, in effect surrounding Victoria Park. It was quite obvious by one in the afternoon that the police would not be giving us very much time to accomplish anything. We're talking about a holiday Friday, in a pouring rain and wind storm with only a small number of the occupiers present. We never once told the authorities we would not comply; they were told we needed some time to accommodate the demand.

A rally was called for three that afternoon in an attempt to amass a large crowd to deter any action of physical removal by the police. I can only assume that we were under surveillance as the call for a rally went out between one and one thirty and the police began the eviction process just before two. There were approximately 20-25 occupiers on site when the police came into the park; they numbered just over 40.

In true deceptive fashion, they entered at the rear of the camp, initially unnoticed by those of us present. They began taking possessions and homes away without any regard for the people who owned them. Tent poles were broken; tents torn and crumbled shoved into shopping carts; clothing tossed into garbage bags like trash. When we were alerted to their presence, we moved down towards the back where they were. A line was formed in front of the tents nearest to the police that they had not yet removed. We stood in that line, arms linked using the people's mic to let the police know what they were doing was wrong, that we were peaceful, non-violent protesters, that we would not resist arrest, that we had a right to be there and other things along this line. I personally led one of the lengthier people's mic to ensure that it was clear we were exercising our rights and that if it came down to it, we would not resist arrest but we would not let them follow through with what they were doing.

I am unsure how long this particular stand off lasted but it did come to an end when we realized that other officers had come in from another side and were taking tents and belongings from behind our line. It was obvious to us that we were outnumbered and needed to make a stand. This happened, for me, when I happened to see an officer standing next to a tent holding an evidence number as another took a picture. What made me decide enough was enough? The officer holding the number pointing and laughing at the home and worldly possessions of one of my fellow occupiers; my fellow humans; my fellow friends.

Two of us moved over and stood on a tent the police were getting ready to remove; the tent had collapsed through the night. I wasn't sure what was going to happen, standing there, only that I felt the police had gone too far. After a minute or two, they turned their backs to us and moved on to another, nearby tent. We moved too; so did three others with us. The five of us linked arms and sat down on the tent. This is where the climax to the day would happen.

An officer, several times, informed us that we were obstructing the duty of the police and we would be arrested if we didn't move. I, personally, acknowledged the officer each time, letting him know that I heard and understood what he had said. I can't say for sure, but he appeared to have this look of supreme respect; for at least a moment. After the final warning, things entered that surreal dream-like state that happens during high stress situations.

I don't know everything that was said, nor everything that happened that day but what I can say with the utmost certainty is that violence was initiated by the Halifax Police Department. As we sat there in that moment of uncertainty not knowing what would happen, suddenly something did. A large line of officers came crashing through the standing protest line; someone literally walking on my back and neck; as well as the others sitting on the ground. I watched as one officer punched a young, teenaged boy in the face as he was just standing there. I saw another officer as he slapped a young lady, grabbed her by the hair and slammed her to the ground. My eyes were horrified and I think perhaps I might have been in shock; this did not last.

The mayhem came to a brief pause for a moment; too brief. It was as though no one knew exactly what to do next. Then it erupted into full fledged insanity. Police officers pulled one of us away; another began pulling at me, digging his fingers and nails deep into my flesh through my clothes, leaving bruises. Another came down and began repeatedly punching my wrists; trying to break my hold. Another one of us was loosened and pulled away. As we sat there, now down to three, we realized that we would not last much longer.

They finally managed to break our hold on each other. As they pulled us apart, I did that which I had been saying for the few hours leading up to this moment: I remained non-violent and allowed myself to be arrested without resisting. In fact, when I was pulled away, I turned my head to the officer who had me and spoke: "I am not resisting. I am letting you arrest me. Please, I am not resisting. Here are my hands, cuff me." And he did; alone. It took only one officer to cuff me and then he helped me to my feet and permitted me to walk without force to the police van.

On my way I saw one unidentified occupier being tackled by four officers; four. When I arrived at the first police van, it was full. I was then brought to a second police van and helped into the back with three more occupiers. As we sat in the back of the van, waiting, suddenly a body came flying in. As his head bounced off the floor of the police van, his body began to twitch. I knew who it was, we all did. We begged him to speak, to let us know he was alright. He lay there, unresponsive, moaning and twitching. We begged and screamed to the police, asking them to get help for our friend. They ignored us. They then slammed the door on the right foot of my friend who lay unconscious on the floor of the van. The van started to move. I know the ride must have only taken two or three minutes but it felt like an eternity to us in the back as we screamed for medical help the whole way for our friend. As we screamed, the van suddenly came to a stop.

And this, my friends, is where today's blog entry will stop. I have done my best to recount to you the events that happened, from my point of view, on this day. There is still one more part of this Remembrance Day story that needs to be told: The Detainment. I will share the story of our, my, detainment in a future post coming soon. I'm also aware that there is information that is missing that will only be made available to you in my blog in later posts; like for example a complete explanation of by-law P-600. I hope you will reserve any judgements against myself and the Occupy movement until I have been able to completely re-tell my story. 

Part 3

This Is The End?

Tomorrow I have a blog post entry already decided upon, which of course, did me no good this morning when I opened it up and decided I would get to writing early. I just didn't have anything to write about. I gave it some thought and wanted to talk about this year: 2012.

There is a lot of conspiracy and a lot of theory on the number of terrible incidents that may or may not occur to the planet Earth and the Human Race this year. Many people are stuck on the Mayan calendar as predicting the end of the world. Why? Because the Mayan calender, like all calendars, records time but this one does so for a long period of time. It is a long count calendar created through mathematics and astrological observation. It is as accurate as our own calendars, if not more so. It just happens that the last day on the calendar, which has a 12 500 or so year cycle, comes around the end of this year. It is just a calendar.

That is the big one; the one more people have fallen prey to than any other. Another of the big possibilities is the return of the Anunaki or Niburu. Well, Niburu is the planet they live on and the Anunaki are supposed to be alien visitors who came to Earth and genetically modified primitive man into what we are today. Lots of people around the world have been anticipating the return of Niburu, but so far all claims have been refuted and no concrete evidence suggests such a planet exists or that it will be orbiting near Earth any time soon.

Those are some of the more outlandish theories being discussed about 2012. Other, more realistic, theories also run abound. One example is economic collapse. Over the last few years, world economic super powers have seen their economies take hit after hit; endure recession; cope with struggling stock markets. When you throw the whole mess that is the Greek economy into the mix, it creates a more sudden air of urgency around the possibility of economic collapse. Even now as we speak, the Euro hangs in limbo as the European nations attempt to stabilize it through Greek economic bailout packages.

Outside of Greece, we have a large number of wars being fought all around the world. There are many who point to Iran as being the last of this colonialism; after all is that not what is happening? Invade a country, set up a new government you can control, then leave once you have control. With all the rumor surrounding the nuclear capability of Iran, especially coming from Israel, it is a growing fear that an inevitable war could erupt between the two countries that could plunge the world into a potential nuclear holocaust.

There are other thoughts and theories floating around the internet about 2012. Meteors, reversal of the magnetic poles, the antichrist, etc., etc. The point? Don't worry about them too much. All throughout history there have been numerous amounts of human beings who have claimed to know the outcome of the future; those who have claimed to know how it will end and when. None have been right. Nobody knows the true nature of our demise nor its time. The universe, and your existence, are miracles in and of themselves; do not let them pass you by while you wait for the end to come.

Sick Day

Good evening my friends. If you are one of my regular followers or readers, you may have noticed that this blog entry is coming fairly late in the day. There is a good reason for this: I am sick. I have that head pressure, sinus congestion, runny nose and fever sickness and let me tell you, in case you didn't know, it is absolutely no fun.

The only good thing about feeling this way is the knowledge that in a day or two it will pass. However, getting through the next few days might be somewhat of a struggle. I managed to force myself out of bed this morning and get on the bus to school. Should I have gone? Most likely not. Should I go tomorrow? Even less likely but no doubt I will suffer through it. Perhaps I will re-consider so that I do not transfer my illness to my other classmates.

I imagine that you can relate to how I'm feeling. You know? One of those days where you can crawl into a fetal position anywhere on any surface and sleep like a newborn baby who just finished their nine o'clock feeding. Yes ladies and gentleman, I want my mom...no, I want the comfort of someone who cares. There is a difference. We men always get the teased by the women of the world because we act so child-like and weak when we catch a cold (that is a general statement, not one that applies to all men across the board); and I am not always so different. However, I would like to share that it isn't that we are children or weak; far from it. No, we draw strength and energy from the kindness and compassion of those who love and tend to us. It's just a guess but I'm willing to bet that we all, at some point during a cold, have that brief moment where we feel so sick, so utterly defeated that we all wish for our mothers; I know I do for mine sometimes.

So when I got home from school today, I immediately crawled into bed and slept for four straight hours. I took a super hot shower to try and sweat this cold out; you can imagine that did little but temporary alleviate the pressure. I ate some food and drank some liquids. Still I felt like I should crawl into bed to sleep yet I could not sleep. As I was laying there, about 30 minutes ago or so, with my eyes open staring at the ceiling, I began to think about things that I need to do. Things that others are depending on me for. Could someone else do them? Quite possibly. Will I hand over the task? Most likely not. I'm stubborn sometimes.

After some strong words of self-encouragement I realized I could do one of two things: I could stay in bed wishing I had some comfort or I could power through this temporary sickness. Which did I choose? Well, you are reading this now aren't you? And this isn't even the beginning. I cleaned my room, I've started laundry, I've gone for a brief walk for some fresh air and now I am making my daily blog entry; not bad John, not bad.

As I'm sick, I think I will end my blog a little shorter than normal. My only real disappointment about all of this is today's blog post; not because I think I have done a poor job but because today's post was a small milestone for me: today is my 50th blog post entry. I had all these great ideas for what I would write about and how I imagined it would look. This is one of the wonders of the Universe: no matter how carefully laid our plans, they are all subject to chance and circumstances. You never know what will be coming your way and when something unexpected comes your way don't look at it as an unwelcome surprise, but a planned detour.

Remembrance Day: The Deception

I wasn't planning on being there. I had been feeling sick and was intending on staying home. The rain was pouring down incessantly and the last thing I wanted to do was go out in it. Then I remembered, it's Remembrance Day; we had a wreath to lay at the foot of the Cenotaph during the ceremonies. Wondering if any others had remembered our duty, I began slipping into my rain gear. 

I left the house and walked down to Victoria Park. When I got there, not too much to my surprise, I found that a number of the tents at our encampment had collapsed under the pressure and force of the wind and rain. I helped fix and stabilize a few of them until the weather could clear and we could begin fixing them properly. There were not many people on site; maybe about 20 or so. I spoke with a few and got the impression there were not many headed down to Grand Parade for the ceremonies. I told them I would check back with them after and headed down to the ceremonies.

When I arrived at Grand Parade, I sought out Tom Waters. Tom is one of the veteran's who met with members of Occupy Nova Scotia (ONS), myself included, to discuss the moving of the encampment for Remembrance Day. Tom had a wreath prepared for ONS to place upon the cenotaph during the ceremonies to remember the men and women who had fought and died to give us the right to the freedom of speech and assembly we had embraced to share our message.

During the ceremony, I happened to meet a veteran from Afghanistan. He had lost four friends during his two tours there. We spoke for a bit, I explained who I was and why I was there. In the end, he asked permission to accompany me to place the wreath; he said it would be 'his honor'. I told him no, it was mine. Together, in the rain, we placed the wreath together. I bowed my head, he stood at attention, then saluted. We exchanged parting words and as I turned around, I was confronted with the mayor of Halifax, Peter Kelly.

I lifted my hand to him and shook his. I expressed my gratitude for taking the time to speak with ONS and work with us. I told him I was looking forward to future meetings we would have to discuss and work around other events to be held in the Grand Parade. He shook my hand, smiled and wished me a good day. I left Grand Parade feeling at peace. Little did I know what the mayor knew; lest things might have been different. He had assured us cooperation and understanding; he lied.

I will be saving the exact details of what ensued at Victoria Park in a later post. What is important for you to know right now is that while shaking my hand, knowing I was on my way back to the encampment, Peter Kelly smiled at me knowing the police were already waiting. To be brief, upon my return I was sought out by Constable Sean Auld (he was accompanied by another constable and a man in a suit who never identified himself) and given an eviction notice. I will save the actual eviction for another post; today's post is about deceit after all.

How you feel about the Occupy movement or its message is irrelevant. How you feel about justice however, is of the utmost importance. Myself with several other Occupiers met with the mayor, some veteran's and Veteran's Affair representatives to discuss Remembrance Day ceremonies. After all, we were camped out at the war memorial in Halifax; it was no surprise they wanted us to move. Each year thousands descend upon Grand Parade Square for the Remembrance Day ceremonies.

We talked and negotiated with them in good faith. We, as demonstrators, were all too aware of the fact that we stood there that day because of the sacrifice of the men and women of the military. Because of our awareness and our respect for these people, we worked out a course of action that would accommodate all. We would depart from our location for several days to respect Remembrance Day and would then return in the days after. Everyone at the meeting felt this was acceptable.

Peter Kelly, Tom Waters & John Thibeau

We came together in good faith; we met with officials in good faith; we gave our word in good faith and not once did we go back on it. We were there to protest the corruption of our government officials (to name but one) and were told if we wanted to make a real difference we would have to work with them; negotiate. We did this; we were deceived. We came together at Grand Parade with a misplaced trust in our politicians; we overcame our misplaced trust and gave them respect as people and offered them an opportunity to prove us wrong; they lied to us.

I was once told, as a member of ONS, that I was wasting my time protesting municipal politics; that I should be in front of the parliament building where the provincial politicians meet; that was where the real corruption and trouble stemmed from. I ask you, after reading my recounting of the deceitful actions of our municipal government, were we truly in front of the wrong building?

Part 2

I Am A Smoker

I am a smoker. I have been a smoker for over 16 years now. During the course of those 16 years I have had the will power and strength to give them up several times; unfortunately never permanently. The longest period I have been without smoking is about six months since February of 1996. That is, at least for me, a long time to be smoking. That almost accumulates to nearly half my life.

One thing you should know about smoking and me is that I hate it. Bizarre eh? So at this moment you should be asking: Well why haven't you quit then? To be honest, I'm not one hundred percent certain of that. Despite my earlier statement of feeling towards smoking, I still feel as though I am not ready or prepared to quit smoking; this will sound absolutely absurd I am sure but I am not ready to quit smoking yet.

What is it about smoking that keeps me doing it? That is a question I have asked myself repeatedly for over a decade; a decade; holy cow, that is a long time to be polluting ones lungs with smoke, tar and carcinogenics. I don't like the taste; I don't like the smell; I am disgusted by the financial cost; I am appalled at the health costs and risks; yet any moment from right now I will get up from my little computer desk, put on my shoes and walk out the door for a cigarette; most likely with a coffee purchased from Tim Horton's (more senseless spending).

I have managed to go through the recovery process of addiction and come back from the very depths of Hell itself. I floated aimlessly around a dark and infinite abyss of sadness and loneliness wishing for death at every corner as a result of my addiction to crack and alcohol. Somehow, with the help of my family and friends, I managed to climb my way back out of that despair and rise up on my own two feet once more; ruler of reason over my addiction but yet when it has come to smoking not even the strongest and most effective of networks has been able to see me through this.

I do not consider myself a weak individual. I have encountered and battled many struggles in the brief amount of time I have been blessed with existence in this wonderful life. I have stood tall against emotionally crippling situations; I have faced head on the consequences of my actions; I have faced physical dangers that could have and should well have ended my life; I have overcome some of the greatest psychological battles one can face; I have stood in the face of adversity and come out standing on the other side. I have been scarred; I have been bruised; I have been bloodied; but I have survived and I have succeeded. Except with this.

I know that it is but a matter of time before the smoking of cigarettes becomes just another thing I used to do. Someday I will talk about my triumph of overcoming one of the most dangerous and addictive drugs solicited: cigarettes (yes I know that isn't the drug; and yes I know Nicotine is the most common enemy of the anti-tobacco lobbyist however it is more the thousands of other chemicals and the bleaching process that frighten me than a Nicotine addiction; I can triumph over addiction). Someday I will have the right words to explain the hold that cigarettes have had on me. They are not like any other addiction I have ever dealt with (and those addictions were not always narcotics or drugs) and every tool I have used to fight and find success elsewhere seems as though useless and futile when combating the addiction of smoking cigarettes.

I do have a great inward desire to quit smoking...soon, but not yet. There must be something to which I am still holding onto that will not permit me to take that final step of quitting. Like I said, I hate smoking: the smell, the taste, the cost, the health effects and everything else that comes with smoking; but I am working on it. So when you see me walking down the street, coffee in one hand, cigarette hanging out of my lip or in my other hand, try not to be too harsh with your judgements. As a smoker I know how much you, as a non-smoker, are disgusted by my habit. After all, I despise smoking for the very same reasons.

Will I wake up tomorrow a non-smoker? Doubtful. Do I have hope that someday soon, as my inner strength and courage develops, as my self esteem and self respect grow, as I become more confident and aware of myself, that I will quit smoking? Absolutely and without doubt. So to all of you smokers out there who are suffering, just remember that your day will come when you are ready and when it does you will triumph over the addiction of smoking; so will I.

Sunday Afternoon Poetry #11

This is a small, but cute little poem I picked up somewhere along the road of life. When I read it, I imagine I am a parent checking on my new born baby, sleeping peacefully in their crib. I hope you will get a simple little joy from this poem as I have.

Love Song

Your little hands,
Your little feet,
Your little mouth-
Oh, God, how sweet!

Your little nose,
Your little ears,
Your eyes, that shed
Such little tears!

Your little voice,
So soft and kind;
Your little soul,
Your little mind.

by Samuel Hoffenstein

Next

Sunday Afternoon Poetry #10

Well good afternoon! Welcome back to Sunday Afternoon Poetry. I'm elated to have you back again for another week to bring some beautiful poetry to your mind. As is the current custom, I will be posting first one of my original works to be followed up later by a poem written by another author that has impacted me in some way.

Today's poem is one of my personal favorites. What you get from it will be entirely up to you, but I will not give you any predispositions before you read it. I find that poetry, like art (because it is art), is most often best left to be interpreted by the individual. What one piece of art speaks to you may well be different than what it speaks to me. So without further delay, I present this week's original work.

The Blowing Wind

I've lost something and don't know where
I hope I did not lose it there
What it is I cannot say,
But I remember from yesterday.
If only I could go back then
And track it down to start again.
But time is like a blowing wind
Continues on and has no end
And I am like the flailing leaf
Flying on, alone in grief.
Where I'll stop, God only knows,
When the wind no longer blows.
But a piece of me seems lost for good,
If only I could have understood;
How the times can change a plan,
Save a life or ruin a man.
But `lo, it is too late to find,
That missing peace inside my mind.
I hope whomever shall find my loss,
Upon the path they're going to cross,
Shall keep it well and keep it safe
Or perhaps one day you might awake
And see you've lost what someone found,
Lying there upon the ground.
So take these words, hear them out;
And learn what life is all about.
Forget ye not the gift ye gained,
Although the emptiness remains,
What we've lost, someday returns,
Yet still we may not ever learn,
Even written clear as text,
Until the wind blows to the next.

-John Thibeau 10/Apr/2002

Next

Patriarchy: End It

This morning I was up far earlier than I normally am. I accidentally crawled into bed around 8:00pm last night and fell asleep. Somewhere around 3:00am my body decided that it had had enough rest and woke me from slumber. Getting up at three in the morning is hardly the way I would normally start my day, but it's how I started this day. With not much to do, I booted up the computer and began surfing my Twitter feed and found an interesting article about women and birth control. This was followed by another which proceeded to demonize these brave women. (UPDATE: response article to the Gawker blog I linked with 'demonize'.)

The first article, despite some of the very open and honest (perhaps too much for some) words of the women from this article, was a real insight into oral birth control contraceptives. The second article, well it made me a little sad to see anyone (especially a woman) tearing these poor women down for their openness and desire to bring to light critical information they were not given (yes I know the information was in the pamphlet that accompanies the pills but let's be honest, how often do YOU read all the instructions, if at all, or terms of agreement as another example?). So how does this all relate to the title? Well, I would be willing to make the bet that had this article been about men and their sexploitations that there would have been little to no criticism. The author of the second article missed the point and used what she wanted to create news; negative news.

This is the end of the discussion on these articles. I wanted to share this story with you as a lead up to the real purpose of today's post: ending the patriarchal way in which we live. First, in case you're unsure what patriarchal means, it just means: "Of, relating to, or characteristic of a system of society or government controlled by men." I'm sure any of you ladies reading who might have been unsure now know exactly what I am talking about; men, if you didn't know, time for a wake up call.

It is no secret that for the last few thousand years that our society has been a male-dominated one. From politics to education to religion to policing to laws to socialization women have always been give the short end of the stick. Men have abused them, lied to them, manipulated them, beat them, jailed them, denied them essential human rights (my all time favorite, for lack of a better word, is that men actually considered women to be non-human!) among many, many, many other terrible discriminatory and sexist crimes (and yes, they should be called crimes). This mentality has been bred into our language, our actions, our very existence; but like anything learned, it can be unlearned.

 

I do my absolute best to try and treat everyone equally. I do my best to see my brothers and sisters as the equals they are but sometimes, even in my vigilance, I fall short of my goal. Why? Because every day I learn or discover the patriarchal indoctrination in some action I perform or some sentence I may speak. I have been no less guilty than others but I have made the conscious choice to help end this specific form of discrimination. This sounds like a very daunting task for one person (I am aware that I am not the only person, but I am also one person) to tackle if you don't know how to help properly effect change. I will share my secret.

I am changing the people. I am teaching people. I am helping people, men and women, to end sexist discrimination. How? For starters, I have changed the way I speak and the way I write. No longer do I generalize people into words like 'you guys' or personify objects with a sex like calling my car 'her' or referring to God as a 'he'. I avoid terminology like this as much as possible and though I am aware I make mistakes from time to time, it is a work in progress; after all, I was bred from this patriarchal ideology.

I can already hear some of you saying something to the effect that 'this isn't going to change anything' or 'that's a nice fantasy but it will never happen'. I beg to differ. It is going to change things. It is going to change the way I think; it is going to change the way I talk; it is going to change the way I act; it is going to change me. Change is already happening; I am the living example of it. Again I can hear you nay-Sayers: 'One person changing isn't going to fix the problem." Yes it will. How? You are right, I am but one person but I have already changed and because I have changed, each person I interact with must also inevitably be altered by my change. 

In my own way, each and every day, I do little things such as simply being more consciously aware of my language. I do this so that I can learn to treat others equally and equitably because as with all things, unless we are able to help ourselves, we cannot ever hope to help others. Here I present a challenge to all of you, men and women, to try to be more conscious of your language. It may start with just changing one word a day to be less subconsciously sexist. You questioned how can one person make a difference? This is how. By talking about it; by engaging in discussion; by challenging the status quo.

 

You, each individual one of you, have the ability to create change. It doesn't require becoming an activist; you don't need to protest; you don't even need to leave your home. The only requirement to change the world is to the power to change yourself; the rest of the world will eventually follow you. Think of it like inertia except that instead of an object in motion, this is an idea in motion and like the object: an idea in motion wants to remain in motion and it will so long as just one of you keeps it going. Today it is me. Tomorrow, the world.

The Sound of Music

Today I want to talk a little about music; one of my biggest personal interests. Not so much playing an instrument, but enjoying the many different styles and varieties of music. Music has always played an intricate role in my life. There is always some song that can help me to feel better or one to console my suffering. Whatever the case, there is music that suits my every mood regardless of how I may be feeling.

I have a wide spectrum of musical interests. This spans from big band music from the early part of the 20th century, to old country, to rock, to rap all the way to dubstep, classical and opera. There really isn't many genres of music that I won't listen to. Ultimately I have two preferences to the music I listen to on a regular basis.

The first is folk music. I love folk music because of the stories that the songwriters sing about. As a Canadian I am obviously somewhat biased when it comes to folk music. Some of my favorite folk artists are Canadians. If you've never listened to folk music, I highly recommend looking into Gordon Lightfoot, Leonard Cohen or Murray MacLaughlin. They are all really amazing Canadian folk singers. However, as great as they are, they still fall just short of the person whom I feel is the all time king of folk: Bob Dylan. Bob Dylan is by far the greatest songwriter ever. Despite his inability to carry a tune with his voice (on this note I want to state that I happen to enjoy his style of singing and his voice; but that's just me.), his music is simply amazing. His words and his stories let you connect personally with his messages. It would be unfair to discuss these great men of folk without also mentioning some of the amazing women of folk. Some of my favorites include: Joan Baez, Joni Mitchel and Janis Joplin to name but a few. 

My other favorite style of music is Rock music from the 60's and 70's. Here we have another genre of music that more often than not, contains a deep lyrical message and a lasting musical sound. There are so many great artists that emerged during this time that it is nearly impossible to name them all. The reason I specified those two particular decades is because there was a lot of political activism and social change happening around the world that allowed for the type of inspiration that creates music to last through the ages.

My infatuation with music stems beyond the actual listening and understanding of messages. Music, specifically the sound of music created by instruments, is a language all unto itself. Musical notes, when played by even an amateur of the art of music, have the ability to instill and create in us feelings all across the spectrum of emotion. They can make us happy or sad; mad or forgiving; make us cry or make us smile; but most of all, music permits us to exercise our empathy. How? Because we can relate our experiences from music with one another. Music instills an emotional and creative reaction and as humans we can share these experiences with one another.

Music is a wonderful creation of nature. I say nature because the entire Universe is based on waves and frequencies which are mathematical in nature; but also musical. Even monks of ancient monasteries believe that the 'Ohm' sound they use while meditating, music all to itself, is the original sound of creation. Throughout the universe, music is created naturally through naturally occurring events. Ever listen to the sound of rain on a tin roof? Beautiful. It is no wonder that the creative mind of humans was quick to create music of their own.

Music can speak to us on many levels. It can bring us closer together; it can strike the chords of emotions reserved for times of great intensity (good or bad); it stirs the imagination and creativity that exists within each in every one of us; it communicates; it shares. Music is, in its own way, very much alive. It is alive because we breath the very life force and essence of ourselves into its creation. The true great artists of history will be remembered not by the greatness of their masterpieces. No. It is not the creation that is great; it is the artist. The creation is nothing more than a reflection of self; the greatness is in the artist who exposes their true selves to the world; unafraid and without reservation. This is the true beauty of music.

The Human Library

Today is going to be a very exciting day. This afternoon I will be participating in the Human Library at Mount St Vincent University here in Halifax from 3 until 7:30. Why is this exciting? Because I will be participating in this event as a 'book'. Woah...I guess I should start by explaining to you what exactly a Human Library is.

The Human Library started as a social project in Denmark and has since grown in popularity and is now an event put on and sponsored by many academia and educational institutions around the globe. The idea behind the Human Library is not overly complex. The first step in the process is to find a suitable location. Once this has been established, some minor care is taken to decorate the room or building in the design of a library (obtaining the use of an actual library would make this part much easier. In the case of the event I am taking part in, it is being held at the Mount St Vincent University Library.).

Once you have your library, the next obvious step is to fill it with books. In this case, the books are actual people. Individuals who possess a specialized training or experience in a particular subject are recruited to attend the event as books. As books, they will be available throughout the event for people to sit with them and read. Of course there will be no actual reading. The book will actually talk to you, engage you and answer your questions when you ask.

The final piece to this event is you, the reader. Once a library has been established and has been filled with books, all that is left is for people like you to come and open a book. From the perspective of a reader, this sort of reading has an advantage over the traditional sense of picking up an actual book with words. Why? Because when a reader is face to face with a book, it is able to instantly answer any questions about the subject without any waiting or searching.

So now that you have a basic idea of what a Human Library is and what the difference is between a book and a reader I will now explain to you my excitement. I am excited, as I said, because I am a book. What is the topic of my book? Addiction. Any time I get an opportunity to talk about my addiction with anyone, I do because you never know when something you say is going to help someone in someway; or even give them the push they need to seek help. To be given a stage where this is the entire focus of energies; to be presented with people who are seeking out the information I have to give and are therefore as eager to hear as I am to speak; to have a moment where I can shine a light of hope into an abyss of darkness; who wouldn't be excited?

So this afternoon I will be jumping on the bus (hooray for the end of the transit strike!) and riding the transit (free! Thanks for the PR campaign Metro Transit.) out to the University for 3:00pm. I will become a book when I enter and I will sit at a table and await you; or you; or you; or maybe even you: the reader. I will wait until someone approaches me to read and I will do what I do best: share information in the hopes of making someone's life better.

My addiction and the struggle to overcome it was one of the most difficult times in my life. Much of it was filled with anger, resentment, terrible choices and especially depression. To be able to use such a terrible and destructive phase of my life and have the ability to turn it around to use it as a tool to help pull others out of that abyss...well that...that is the greatest reward and homage I can pay to those who went through my addiction with me and helped me overcome it (myself included). Because of them I now have an opportunity to offer others what I felt I had lost: Hope. 

I hope I will see you there.

Series: Addiction: Near Death Experience #1

When it comes to life, there is always the danger that accidents can happen. When it comes to substance abuse, the risk of any type of accident is increased ten-fold. Depending on your substance of choice this is usually in the form of an overdose. That does not exclude all the other potential life threatening situations that may arise when one is a substance abuser. Irrational and insane decisions are commonplace in the world of an addict. Several times through various stages of my addiction I have nearly ended my own life. This is one of those occasions.

It's funny how there are some things that are easier to remember than others. I have memories from before I was two years old and yet I cannot recall much between the ages of five and ten. Some of my memories have been permanently removed as a result of substance abuse and the inability to retain memories while under the influence. This particular memory is still quite clear in my mind.

In 2005, my drug of choice switched from alcohol to ecstasy. The high I got from dropping a hit of ecstasy was beyond any I had ever experienced. The high provided me with such a joyous and blissful feeling of love and harmony that one cannot truly express into words; one can only experience it (and I strongly advise against it.). It was in September and I had access to a large quantity of ecstasy tablets. On this particular night I was with several friends and we had decided that a road trip from Calgary to Banff was in order 'for something to do'.

I remember thinking to myself before doing it that I wasn't sure it was a good idea but for the first time I opted to take two hits of ecstasy at once. Prior to this I had never taken more than one as it had always been sufficient; or more than sufficient. I had no idea how I might be affected by the increase in dosage. After taking my pills, we piled in the car and started on the way to Banff. We had a full car, all the seats occupied. For the record, we did have a sober driver; the rest of us were taking something.

We smoked several marijuana cigarettes (joints from here on out) on our hour long journey out into the mountains. We arrived very late at night; perhaps near midnight. We took frequent trips to Banff for the sole purpose of smoking a few joints and then returning to the city. We got to Banff and drove down to the river just below the Banff Springs Hotel. We were all in good spirits and having a good time. We broke out some drinks and smoked some more joints.

As the combination of all these foreign chemical substances in my system began to take hold of me, my logic, rationality and common sense had already taken the night off. As we stood around laughing at ridiculous things, boredom, due to the extreme amount of energy I had from the intoxicants, soon set in.

When I was a child, I remembered playing around on cars. I remembered, for some reason, at that moment. I immediately challenged my friend to attempt to drive around the parking lot with me on the hood. I boasted that there would be no way that he could throw me from the hood; I was Superman after all (or so I thought.). So I jumped on the hood and he behind the wheel, and we started slowly around the parking lot.

Now, from my memories as a child playing around on cars (parked), I remember being able to get my fingers all the way under the hood, near the windshield, which provided for a very solid hold. To my surprise, and soon to my dismay, newer model cars do not have this. There is a curved plastic addition which forces your fingers to curl and not permitting for that strong hand hold that older model cars provided.

As he circled the parking lot, I egged him on to do better; I was winning. At this point he increased his speed to around 30km/h and cut the wheel hard left. What happened next is still as clear as any waking moment. As the car veered left, my body slid right. I remember flying off the hood of the car; kind of like Superman. I watched as the concrete came towards me. In slow motion, my head connected with the pavement. I rolled forward, like a flip, and as I was floating through the air I remember thinking 'Wow.'. As my head collided once more with the concrete, I flipped once more and came to rest on my back; lying as though crucified to the ground.

My initial thought was that 'this is going to hurt in the morning.' I'm unsure how long I was laying there but suddenly I could hear voices and screams, a mumbling fuzzy sound, starting as tiny whispers and quickly growing into loud, audible sounds. When I heard the words, 'Oh my God, I think he's dead,' I raised my right hand in the air, making a fist and shouted out 'I'm all good.' I wasn't.

My head swelled up to the size of a basketball (this is not an exaggeration) within just a few minutes. Now the smart thing to do would have been to go to a hospital; we weren't smart. We drove around a tourist town looking for somewhere to buy ice. After 45 minutes without success, we realized that there were dozens of hotels and motels that provided free ice. The swelling reduced to almost nothing within half an hour of icing it. The ride home, it was dawn by this time, was scary. My vision was blurry for hours, I could not concentrate and my teeth were grinding so much I cracked several CD cases I had tried to use to stop the grinding.

It was four years before I saw a doctor about this incident. Fortunately I did not suffer any long term damage as a result of this absolutely reckless action. I was lucky that night; I was lucky several more times; I am extremely lucky that I survived my addiction. There are so many more life threatening and dangerous possibilities when one is an addict than an overdose. In fact, during my entire battle with addiction I have only come close to death from overdose on maybe two or three occasions; compared with the dozens of occasions where death nearly caught me as a result of some action undertaken while under the influence.

I was afraid of my injuries; so I didn't go seek professional medical help. I was afraid of my addiction; so I suffered on in silence. Fear is a dangerous thing if we are unprepared with dealing with it. My suggestion to you, my friend, is to stop being afraid. The consequences of inaction or action due to fear could result in the abrupt ending of your existence. There is nothing to fear so much that should result in your own death. You cannot live in fear; only die.

"I Am A Terrorist."

Over the last year the world has seen an unprecedented rise in civil revolution, civil protest and civil activism around the globe. As a result, governments have the responsibility to maintain peace and order while at the same time pursuing avenues that will appease the public or control them. Sadly, this has resulted in many governments and authorities creating threats, both abroad and domestically, out of innocent people. Despite the title, I am in fact, NOT a terrorist. I will however show you how easily it is for people like you and I, regular every day people, to become targets.

Buying Coffee

We're going to start here because if you are like one of the billions of other people around the world, chances are you buy a cup of coffee every once in a while. If you are like me, it is quite often daily. You should perhaps take a moment to consider how innocent an action this is. Sounds innocent enough doesn't it? You go to the café or coffee shop, order your favorite coffee (or maybe you're feeling risky and you try something new like a latte), take some change out of your pocket and pay the cashier. Congratulations you are now a potential terrorist according to the FBI.

That's right. You my friend, by purchasing your coffee with cash instead of plastic (that is just one of many similar articles from various sources. The entire document can be viewed here.). The Federal Bureau of Investigation has somehow managed to take such a mundane and common occurrence and turned it into a potential warning sign for a terrorist? Ask yourself how often you pay for you coffee with cash. Now think about how you see others pay. Heck, just think about it the next time you are waiting in line for a coffee. You and all those other people could be 'marked' as potential terrorists and be subjected to interrogation, arrest, investigation, surveillance, etc. 

What's that? You don't live in the United States? It's not your problem? Yes, it is. When it comes to terrorism, all the world's governments tend to adopt the same principles; at least when it suits them. How long before something this ridiculous is passed around to the RCMP here in Canada? Will it bother you then? Let's take a look at another example. 

Exercising Freedom of Speech

Surprised? Don't be. The example I'm going to present here may have some of you saying 'Well no duh! What were you expecting?'; others might find it rather surprising if they participated, knew someone who did or supported in spirit; and still to others it will come as no surprise at all. Being a member of the Occupy movement makes you a domestic terrorist; at least in England (and as I said before, these agencies generally adopt similar policies and methinks this one is probably globally recognized.).

Although I have not spoken as much about my work and time with Occupy Nova Scotia as I intend to, what I would like to make clear is that in no way was our particular encampment or movement ever, in any way, a terrorist threat. ONS was a peaceful group of individuals who shared a common identification of the decline and corruption of our political, social and economic structures and were drawn together to voice that concern. They came from every walk of life and there is no doubt in my mind that you know at least one person on a personal basis who was involved with Occupy in some way; wherever you may be.

The Occupy movement, both here in Halifax and abroad, was and is a peaceful and non-violent one. It does not encourage or condone violence or abuse in any form. These individual people are concerned citizens of their respected nations who are doing nothing more than exercising their right to free speech. They are standing up to tyrannical practices. They are good, peaceful people who are following the proper avenues allotted to them to effect change; their governments are answering with oppression and violence. 

What is a Terrorist?

What is a terrorist then? Well, what I don't think a terrorist is, is someone who pays for coffee with cash. Nor do I consider someone exercising their right to free speech as a terrorist. I think you, me and everyone else can come up with our own ideas of what a terrorist is or what terrorism means. It may be a little different for you than for me but I think that in the end, we would all come up with very similar ideas.

For me, a terrorist is anyone who threatens my life, my freedom or the world in which I live. No one person has the right to threaten the life, freedom or environment (and thus world) of any other. The value of your life is the same for mine and understanding this means understanding my definition. It sounds very broad when in fact it is very personal. It isn't something complex: just be nice to others, be nice to yourself and take care of your environment (that means taking considerations beforehand and not just in hindsight.).

There are many more examples of how every day, governments and their agencies are coming up with new and ridiculous ways to terrorize their citizens. Become engaged in politics. Find out what's going on in your own home towns and cities. You have the power to control the future; do not let it go to waste. If you squander this, you may wake up to find that it is you who is saying: "I am a terrorist."

 

Sunday Afternoon Poetry #9

This is a poem I learned while in the ninth grade. It was here where I developed my love of poetry and I would like to thank my English teacher, Andy Smith, who is personally responsible for my personal interest and understanding of the beauty of poetry. During the poetry section of our English program, we were give several poems and required to memorize one and then recite it in front of the class. He also gave us the option to do two; the second as a bonus. I myself chose Invictus but it turned out that the rest of my entire English class chose the same poem; the one I will present to you today. I had only read it once myself but since I went first, I had to listen to the same poem recited over and over again. By the time everyone was done I got up and did it as my bonus, second poem. I had memorized it from hearing my entire class recite it; I've never forgotten it since. Enjoy.

She Dwelt Among The Untrodden Ways

She dwelt among the untrodden ways

Beside the springs of Dove;

A maid whom there were none to praise

And very few to love:

A violet by a mossy stone

Half hidden from the eye!

--Fair as a star, when only one

Is shining in the sky.

She lived unknown, and few could know

When Lucy ceased to be;

But she is in her grave, and, oh*,

The difference to me!

-William Woodsworth

*The emphasis was given to me by Mr Smith. He expressed the importance of the emphasis on that word as it indicated the true cumulative sadness at the loss of Lucy and the love the narrator felt for her.


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Sunday Afternoon Poetry #8

So I was reading through my pile of poems that I've accumulated through the years and today I'm going to share with you a different style of poem. Many years ago, when I was just a child of 15, I began writing poetry. When I started writing, I didn't care for rhyme schemes. My poems were written in free verse and directly reflected the deep and hyper-sensitive emotions and inner battles I was fighting at the time. Some of them are actually quite literal poetic descriptions of things I did but that will be for another day.

Today I am going to share a poem about how I viewed the system and its institutions. You'll get to read a first hand account of how I actually viewed things at the time. As I personally re-read it before deciding on it, it really struck me because of my involvement in the Occupy movement and my ideas concerning severe flaws in our current economic and political systems. This comes from an immature and undeveloped mind of a 15 year pubescent male with a hyper-sensitivity to emotion. I have since grown to understand the vague and broad ideas that I was able to identify with at such a young age. I am now much more knowledgeable about the root to some of these issues. It acts as an example to how my thoughts and ideas evolve over the years. Please enjoy and come back later for my second posting of Sunday Afternoon Poetry.

Control

It starts from birth

Being told what to do

How to do it

When to do it

You're taught to hate

but told to love

Soon they make you learn

They send you away

Away to be brainwashed

Your entire life is being shaped

Molded into one of them

By one of them

But I am not one of them

Nor shall I ever be

So beware of them

And pay attention to their ways

Once you're trained

You'll never change.

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Digital Vacation

Over the last few months, my presence in the online world has increased exponentially. Until recently, the only social media site I spent any of my time on was Facebook. I had a Twitter account but used it so rarely that I might as well of not had it at all. As my program moves forward in school, I have found that it became necessary to become a more active participant in the online arena of social media; especially if I am to pursue a future in Public Relations.

As I began to become more active on Twitter, I started exploring other social media and social networking sites. Before I knew it, I had become a registered and active member of several different sites, including this blog. As I have come to know how these sites work, I find that I am able to get more and more out of each one in some way.

My Twitter feed keeps me up to date on current news and events; especially locally. My Facebook connects me to all of the amazing people I have been blessed with knowing over the course of my life. Blogspot has given me a medium in which to express myself and share my opinions and ideas with others from around the world. Linkedin has given me the opportunity to network and connect with professionals in the career path I've chosen. There are many more I could list and many more benifits to my new found interest in social media. Truly, there is an art to navigating and properly using social media.

I began to become more and more involved with my online world. I soon realized that I began to feel very much rewarded through my participation in so many arenas of conversation as people have responded quite positively to me on many fronts. It is a wonderful thought to know that people value your thoughts and opinions; vindication for persistence.

What I missed was how quickly and deeply I became absorbed into the inter-web. I began spending hours and hours on end relentlessly following stories, updating comments, spreading breaking news, offering opinions and sharing information. I soon realized that despite the many positives I had discovered with immersing myself into social media that it lacked a very crucial and essential component: human contact.

For all the networking, for all the connections, for all the positive feedback, none of it can compare to actual physical human interaction with other people. When you are face to face with someone, it is an entirely different conversation. There is so much more to a conversation than the syllables and words being exchanged between two parties. A bond is made, however small and temporary, that can never be artificially recreated with technology. I missed people; I missed human interaction. In fact I craved it.

So, with this revelation in hand, I did what was necessary to remedy the problem: I am taking a small vacation. I've left the hustle and bustle of the city to return home to the small community in the country from which I was raised to spend some quality time with friends and family. When I have completed posting today's blog entry, I will be closing my laptop to social media and the internet until Monday (although I will take the time to post my regularly scheduled Sunday Afternoon Poetry.). I'm going to take some time to enjoy life beyond the digital.

There is nothing wrong with social media and networking. They are wonderful tools and technologies that allow us to communicate with each other on a scale never before imagined. We are able to connect with lost friends, new friends and family instantly and at our leisure. With so much to offer us it is very easy to understand how we can quickly become deeply rooted in our digital social world. I strongly urge you to give yourself a break. There is no substitute in value or experience of real human interaction. So as you go about your very busy digital lives, take a day, take two, and leave your technology at home and go visit friends and family; believe me, not only will they be happy you did, you will be happier.

Have a great weekend my friends and remember to take the time to reach out and touch someone; and I don't mean pick up a phone.

Series "An Ode To" #2: "An Ode To Bryan Heisner"

Dear Bryan,

It has been some time since we last spoke and when we did, I was able to clear my conscious of some of the negative thoughts I took with me the last time we saw one another. At that time things between you and I went very bad, very quickly. Still to this day, I'm not sure exactly what it was that came between us but I want you to know that losing your friendship was a very difficult time for me.

You had an impact on my life in way that no other person has ever had. The bond of friendship that was created when we became friends was as strong as a familial bond. From the beginning of our friendship we were very close. There was some sort of deeper connection that I shared with you that I have really yet to find in anyone else. Thank you for that experience.

When I look back upon our friendship, I am truly grateful. I'm going to use the word soulmate to describe what you once meant to me. I know that it is more commonly used when talking about romantic love, but that is what you felt like to me. You were closer to me than family and I loved you like a brother. The closeness between us during our friendship is one that I cherish and look back upon with great fondness. In a crazy mixed up world, having someone as grounded as you nearby got me through some dark times.

We went through a lot together; good and bad. I remember going to visit our old apartment in the North West at four in the morning. We cried for a few minutes outside, thinking and reminiscing about the times we spent there. I think that's the only time I have ever seen you cry. You were always much more in control of your emotions than I was. That moment I think we were closer than any other time we were friends.

I want to thank you for your friendship. You used to live by a creed that everyone has something for us and that once that has been accomplished, it is time to move on. I guess in my head I hoped that we would always be friends; or at the very least we would have many more years of journeying through life together. Life was always good regardless of things having someone like you with whom I connected so personally.

I have ideas on what caused the strain in our friendship. Five years is a long time to spend with anyone on a consistent basis and though I am sure there are mistakes that must be attributed to me, you are guilty of your own mistakes but I'm not here for regrets; I'm here for thanks and I have much to thank you for. You were a good friend and an honest person with me at all times; never once making up white lies to save my feelings. You were a true friend.

I've read you are going to be a father now and though it surprises me, I am very happy for you. I think that you gave me more than I had to offer you (though only you can be the judge on the value of what you learned from me) and some of what I have learned and taken from you has served me as an invaluable tool in my life. So thank you Bryan Heisner, for setting an example of what it really means to be a friend. I wish you all the best in your life and whatever anger, resentment or bitterness I carried, I have long since lost and I hope that any you may have harbored towards me are also long since disappeared. You are a great friend; a great man; and I am sure you will be nothing less than a great father.

With all the love one can have for another, I wish you all the best and hope that as we continue down our own roads of life, that our paths will cross once more.

John

Next

Heart Ache and Love

If you haven't guessed from the title, today I'm going to share with you some very important suggestions on dealing with heartbreak you may want to consider. I call them suggestions and not advice because advice implies that you should do said thing. You're an individual, like myself and free to make your own choices as always. What you will read is how I have come to learn about dealing with heartbreak and the inevitable flurry of wild emotions that can accompany it; especially if you're the one being left.

As I've mentioned I am self-described as hyper-emotional; meaning I feel things on a much deeper level than most (or at least that is how it feels oftentimes; it could be that others are just really good at hiding it.). Though this particular attribute is absolutely amazing during times when I am feeling positive, it is extremely detrimental when I become negative. When I have had to deal with heartbreak in the past, it has not exactly gone well.

When you're young, teenaged years, your hormones are out of sync as your body is maturing making for that extra bit of emotion. The first time my heart was broke, I was absolutely devastated. I cried my eyes out every night for a week. I thought the world was over and I would be alone forever. So dramatic but as I said, hyper-emotional. When I hit my twenties I still had no balance with my emotions.

The next time I was in love, and it was love. I truly believe that you can, over a lifetime, be capable of giving your heart to more than one person. Love is love and if it has not been love I've felt, because it hasn't been with all the women of my life and there have been a few, than I cannot wait to experience what love truly is. Anyway, I was just into my twenties and she cheated on me after six years. That was the only time in my life, and it was only for the briefest of moments but it was there, that I considered suicide. Hyper-emotional. I survived and moved on.

The third time I was in love was a roller-coaster ride like no other. I won't get into too many details as it is not so much detail but understanding that I want to express here. The first time I saw her, well, I have never seen anything quite like it. She was surrounded by a glowing aura (really, not making this up) and I knew I was in love. From the first look, I knew. It lasted six months before she ended it without solid explanation. I never got over her. I tried to drink her away; I tried to 'screw' her away (sorry for the vulgar wording of that statement, I am trying to really express how deep into an abyss this sent me.); I tried smoking her away. Nothing. I thought I would never recover. I did.

Then chance and circumstance brought us together again. Short version is that apparently she had been thinking of me too. She had a little girl now, just under two. The relationship was amazing...but sometimes good things end. We had a very rocky last year or two. Although my love for her is still there and my infinite hope believes somewhere, she feels it too; something told me otherwise. I moved away to go to school and we stayed together and I've visited but each visit felt less and less like home. And then she sent me a message explaining we needed to talk. So I called.

So today mark's a new beginning for me. Today I was informed that after nearly six years she no longer feels the same about me. She has come to the conclusion that I would be better suited with someone who loves me the way I love her. She's right. For the first time in my life I am not mad; I am not upset; I am not sad; and I am not losing control. It isn't because I was ready for it; we've been in far worse places. No it wasn't that.

This is what I want to share; the difference; the change. You see what I have come to understand is that I was always capable of having balance with my emotions, not control, but balance. Until now, in the realm of heartbreak, mine was always egocentric. Why me? Why doesn't she feel the same way? How is it so easy for her? And all the other normal self-pity questions. Not until now have I realized that I do not have to suffer. I cannot change her desire by force or coercion; and even if I could the relationship would be a fake. I love her I truly do and her daughter as well but love requires love in return. Who am I to question the will of her emotions? Who are any of us?

I have learned that love is truly spiritual and enlightening. I have learned that heartache is some of the worst pain to experience. I have learned that love goes on; but more importantly, so does pain. I can only answer for my own feelings not for those of others; the same is true of all of us. My suggestion is when heartache comes your way, as it most inevitably will, remember these things:

You will love again. The pain will subside. Most importantly though, you cannot control the emotional desires of others; respect that. With this knowledge I have come to accept that this part of my life, though against my own wishes but perhaps for my own good, has come to a close. Today a chapter very dear to me in the book of my life has ended; tomorrow marks the beginning of a new chapter.

One of the Keys to Happiness

Exercise. That's right I said it. Exercise. I did it again; one more time now: Exercise. I'm sure this is not what you expected but you are not surprised either. I'm not going to preach to you on the obvious health benefits; you are already aware. I'm not going to attempt to guilt you into feeling like you should go out and exercise. No. There will be none of that. One of the great things about being an individual human being is choice and we all have it. I'm just going to share my recent experiences since I began my own exercise program. If it inspires you to start your own exercise regime, I will not be offended.

So the first thing you should know is that I am a smoker; 16 years officially. When I was young, I was a very athletic person in that I loved participating in all sports and even enjoyed exercise. I had no idea how exercise benefited me beyond the physical. The second thing you should know about me is that outside of my addiction, I have weighed a consistent 135lbs, give or take 5lbs (usually take), since I was 15 years old. I have an extremely high metabolism and regardless of diet or smoking it is very difficult for me to hold weight (although I am sure this will not last forever).

Fast forward 16 years to 2012 and I am now 31. I haven't exercised in over a decade. Recently I began to realize that despite all the positives of following a strictly logical, rational and analytical left-brain ideology that it did not provide a moral or personal balance. There were many occasions where I came across as "cold" and soon I even began noticing it myself. You see, I have always been a hyper-emotional individual (doubly so since my experience as an addict) and that I was interpreted the way I was made me question why. The why has made me realize that my left-brain thinking was only one half to a whole. So armed with this knowledge I have begun exercising the use of my right-brain, creative and spiritual to help establish a balance I lack. The reason I am sharing this is twofold: the first is that it leads to why I resumed exercising and the second is that I will be sharing this journey and self-discovery in later posts.

It started two weeks ago when my body was aching. I decided to stretch my sore limbs. I'm not sure why they were sore because they weren't getting much work. As I was standing there in my room I had a brief moment of panic: how do I stretch? Sounds silly I know but for a moment, I couldn't remember. Then it came back to me and I just want to thank my physical education teachers from elementary: George Doucette and Fernand Comeau. All those exercises were permanently engraved into my brain and I thank you. So, I started doing some stretches and when I was done I had managed to touch my toes without bending my knees (go try it, right now! Not so easy if you don't exercise.). 

This one moment turned into another small session of stretching exercises before bed. Then again first thing the next morning. It has now culminated into a twice to three time daily routine of stretching exercises. It gets better. Newly inspired I wanted to do more than stretching exercises. Being a smoker I wanted to do something that is going to really work my lungs and give me some solid motivation to finally quit (please no preaching. Quitting smoking is an individual affair and the individual alone can decide when the time is right. My time is near.). I decided to run. So this past Friday, as I crawled into my bed I made myself a promise that I would get up first thing the next morning and go for a jog (after my morning stretching exercises).

I ran just over 1.2km Saturday morning at 9:30am when I awoke. I had to walk the last leg of it; my lungs felt like they were collapsing. Two things happened after I got home: one is that despite being completely physically exhausted I do not remember a time when I was so self-aware of each and every part of my body, from the aches and pains, and the second is that I didn't smoke until just after twelve (a huge accomplishment for someone who less than a week ago had a cigarette as soon as I woke up.). This morning I got up at 6:30am, did my stretching exercises and ran it again. Oh, and for the record, yeah, I took a shower after. Not going to get into my exercise plan but needless to say it is going to continue to evolve.

So now that you know where I am coming from with exercising, I want to share with you the changes I'm going through since I began. Let us start with some of the physical effects. I still cannot touch my toes the first time I try, even after stretching my body, but I am a lot closer than I was before. My muscles are no longer stiff or sore. I feel more rested when I wake up in the morning. I have a better appetite AND an appetite for healthy foods. My lung capacity has not changed any but my breathing has become more regulated. As you can see the physical is progressing a slow pace but progress is progress and it can only improve.

Let's talk about the mental/emotional/spiritual side of it now. I am happier; I mean really and not just that fake happy we all put out there. I mean I am much happier with who I am regardless of my failures or shortcomings. My emotions have become much easier to process and understand. I am much less quick to anger or frustration. I am more consistently aware of myself and my thoughts. There is a new found sense of balance to my life never previously felt. My ability to think clearly has improved as well as a growing sense of motivation towards accomplishing tasks.

So that is my testimony on exercising, so to speak. They told me when I was a child, pre-teen and teenager how important exercise was and I did not heed their words. This is why I have not tried to persuade or convince you to exercise. I have provided you with an example of someone who is obviously out of shape (despite my small stature), who has not exercised in years and has an unhealthy and deadly habit who started small and is working his way back up. I have also shared with you the changes in my person since I began and they only continue to improve as I continue to exercise.

I will take this last moment to encourage you to consider taking up exercising yourself. It takes little or no time as it can be as little as stretching exercises or you can go further if you wish. How you approach it is up to you but the benefits I have been and continue experiencing are beyond measure. You will find immediately that the focus of just doing simple stretching exercises will help clear your mind of stress and worry. When you're done, those things haven't changed but your body and mind are both ready to handle it. So again, the choice is entirely up to you and the best part is you are never too young or old to start and its free. You can do it in your own home. You can do it in your own room. You can do it. You can. Exercise.

Change

So today I am struggling to finish up a project for school. As I was working on it, my mind started straying to what I might write about today for you. After some careful thought and the realization that my school work is going to require of me much more attention than originally anticipated, I went through some of my current writings and decided to share this one with you.

My instructor asked us this year to write a 600 word or so paper on 'Change'. She gave us a limited amount of class time to do this in; about 30 minutes or so. I enjoy writing so this activity did not necessarily present to me a challenge; so I turned it into one. I wrote about change, but not necessarily in the sense you might think; but then again, maybe so. Please enjoy this light-hear-ted twist on a topic meant to bring out the serious.

Change

Every day, most every individual has to deal with change. Sometimes the change is ours, other times the change belongs to someone else. What it all boils down to is that we will all have to deal with change throughout our lives. The amount or size of change is irrelevant. The importance is how we take this change and how we use it to better ourselves.

I face change on a daily basis. In fact, within the first hour of being awake, I am generally dealing with change. It starts at Tim Horton’s when I hand my crisp, five dollar bill to the counter person who gives back to me change. I tend to ignore change when it first arrives by stuffing it deep down into the dark recesses of my pockets, but it isn’t long before the weight of change I am carrying around begins to take its toll on me.

Everywhere I go, I hear the incessant nagging of change as it follows me. I do my best to function at my peak performance, but the unrelenting thought of change on my mind and how I will deal with it draws my every conscious thought away from my daily routine. Time becomes fleeting and before I know it, lunch has arrived and the pains of hunger take the place of the constant worry over change.

Where I eat never affects the change that I must endure.  Sometimes I think that I should bring my own meals with me to avoid the necessity of having to deal with such a large amount of change. There are days when I use my debit card to pay for my lunch and this helps me to deal with the change, but it is not always possible to do this. So each day, the weight of change continues to grow and I remain stuck in this cycle of suffering.

I have read that there are many ways in which an individual will deal with change. Some are far worse than others, but all and all it seems as though most people have difficulty in accepting change. Most want nothing to do with it. I find it truly amazing to behold they, who with little care or worry, are able to accept change with such ease. I have sought professional help in order to properly deal with my change, however none were able to ever completely relieve me of my difficulty with dealing with change.

For many years, I felt alone in my battle in dealing with the insurmountable amount of change that had been seemingly dropped into my life over the years. Many a restless night I lay in bed wondering if I would ever win the battle against change. Then, as I lay awake, sobbing in a pool of tears and fears, the answer rolled into my thoughts and almost instantly, calm overcame me as I had an epiphany on how to overcome change.

I slept better that night that I had in a decade knowing that upon waking in the morning, my struggles with change would be over. On that beautiful day, I arose from my slumber like I would any other morning, except today I was ready for change. Today I was ready to deal with any change that might come my way for whatever reason.

The key to dealing with this continuous amount of incoming change was to understand the change, what it represented, how to organize it and to examine its true value. It took nearly three months of sorting through the chaos that was all the change I had carried with me over the years. Many times, the battle seemed lost and I felt near the point of collapse but I endured. My perseverance was justly rewarded in the end.

It has been several years since I finally learned to deal with all the change in my life. After learning to cope, my life has changed drastically for the better. Within a few short hours of completing my own self-therapy program for change, I found that I my life had become significantly richer than it ever had been before. Each day I look forward to the change that life brings me so that I can turn something that once plagued my existence into something that promotes it.

You see, I realized that I didn’t need to hold onto change; that I could accept it and incorporate it into my life. Change is nothing to be feared but rather something to be welcomed. By not ignoring the constant change thrust unto me and rather accepting it with open hands, I was able to properly organize it into my life. The effect of this is immediately visible. The weight you carry with you is gone; the sound of change nagging in your ears will cease; the fear of being overburdened by its quantity will no longer hold you down.

It is important to understand that change will always be there. Nothing that one can do in one’s life will completely absolve one of having to deal with change. The importance of change is not the change itself; nor is it what comes about because of that change. No, the importance of change is how we, as individuals learn to deal with the change in our own lives. By learning to effectively manage your change, you can better learn how to help others deal with their own change.

The method I developed to work with my change was to first of all make an account of all the change that had come way over the past few years. After I had a tangible image of what I was dealing with, I began to sort through and categorize the many different types of change. Sorting out all the change one has dealt with is no easy task, but it will make it much easier to come to terms with your change.

After many exhausting hours of sorting and categorizing, comes the second to last stage of our work with change. With my change now properly separated, I rolled all the change from the various groups together into smaller, even divisions, grouped together to make the change easier to handle. Once accomplished, I took my change, examined it, thought about it and finally gathered it all up and stored it away in a safe place where I could easily access it again to review all the order I had put together from the chaos of change.

Learning how to deal with change has been one of the greatest accomplishments of my life. It taught me how to be strong, how to persevere, how to succeed and how to make my life richer. How we learn to deal with our own inner turmoil in demons is essential to the happiness we will enjoy during our life. These things may seem very complex at times however many times the answer to them is actually very obvious and straightforward.

The answer to my problems was simple. When change happens in your life, don’t ignore it: look at it; hold it; keep it. The change you get may be small and seem invaluable but if you just take the time to examine all the change together, you would find that you are much wealthier then you imagined because of having to deal with change.