show me the way

In an ever-changing world, it’s pretty key to determine very early in life how you’re going to adapt. I think we can, in the most basic terms, be divided into two groups – those that thrive on change and those that want to vomit at the thought of it.  I definitely fall in the first group, much of which I owe credit to my flavorful Gemini personality.  

But last night I was reminded that our adaption in life also has another key component.  I had a conversation with my old boss and there was a point in our discussion where he said (in a very jovial way) that I owe him for my current success.  Given that he gave me a foot-in-the-door opportunity,  I wholeheartedly agreed with him.  Listen, I fully understand that my life success is due not only to the way I’ve maneuvered through change, but it's also in huge part owed to what I'd like to call my ‘Gateway Keepers’.

Gateway Keepers enable our journey through life. You know who these people are. They are the ones that facilitate a new introduction – perhaps the teach you a new hobby, bring forth a new friendship for you, get you into new sport or put you in front of a new job opportunity. I can rhyme off approximately eight very important Gateway Keepers in my life that not only enabled a change, but also have also significantly changed my life.  One of them in particular I've always held in the highest regard. The one that I’ve often expressed in the past as my guardian angel. The one that introduced me to running at a time in my life ten years ago when I desperately needed a healthy addition to my life for physical, spiritual and mental reasons. Now looking back, the timing was crucial. Years after our encounter, I often sent him notes thanking him for the support and bringing the sport of running into my life. It was this one Gateway Keeper in particular that said to me, “I had nothing to do with it really, because you had to find it within you to accept this new challenge and want it. More importantly, you had to find it within you everyday to push yourself to find the strength and positivity to keep going. That's all you”. 

I’ve never forgotten that comment, because while the Gateway Keeper helps you to see something new and positive, it’s really up to us to accept the change, the challenge and make the best of every moment in front of us...until the next Gateway Keeper comes along. 

Talking 'bout my generation

I realized that I have a love/hate relationship with my generation. I don't even know what group I belong to - Gen X? Y? Z?  And I'm not sure what we'll be remembered for, although according to my girlfriend Kelly we might be classified as "The Assholian Era".  I tend to agree.

What I love about 'us' is that we have kids later, we marry later, we don't let age-rules change the way we dress or act, we care about being fit and we've redefined what it looks like to be 40.  We're all on facebook and when we're online we are engaged in conversation about how Rihanna and Jay-Z killed it on the the American Music Awards last week. We're youthful, we're fun and we're carefree.

But my detest for 'us' lies in the way we are way too instantaneous, we tend to avoid being educated on big life decisions. We pressure each other to keep up with the Joneses and don't know the consequences of our actions. I feel that we created our own mess with the state of this economy - we bought and bought until we couldn't buy no more.   We wanted bigger and better and I think we took it all for granted. My dad has often told me that my generation can't wait for things to come, we want it all done now - from new home renos,  flat screen TVs, to brand new caaaars!!!

I just pray that we all know how to learn from our mistakes. I hope that we can acknowledge when we're wrong and collectively be more self aware.  The Christmas decorations around the office, the holiday music on the radio and working in retail have made me think about what our consumption levels will look like this year versus all other Christmas' in my generation's history.  I hope we spend more time (with each other) and less money this season.  Sure, we need to re-boost the economy but let's do it by giving to others, not to ourselves.  I'm pretty sure we have enough.

insane in the membrane

I believe it was Albert Einstein that once said 'insanity is the definition of doing the same action over and over and expecting a different result'.  As I sit here this morning drinking a delicious Tearo coffee with two dogs at my feet, I’m thinking back on this past week feeling like it was a week of pure insanity.  But that’s the blessing of a good Saturday morning - it can detach you from the week you just killed (or the week that just killed you).  And I also 'get it', in so much that I can comprehend it’s also just one mere blip on the radar. So while I do understand my small insane week doesn't really impact anybody other than me, I've been thinking that our collective insanity goes way beyond a simple work week.  

I’m in the midst of reading Loving Frank and just finished The Diary of Anne Frank. Both incredible stories in their own right.  One is set in 1909, the other in 1944 and when you’re reading both you feel remarkably connected to the moment, the year and the mind of the main storyteller, Mamah and Anne (respectively).   More importantly, both books feel like the setting could have been 2009 because the actions within both are happening in lives around me today.

In 1909, imaging a woman leaving her husband and kids to find a real love is astounding to me. I feel so close to Mamah's headspace because I too have often wondered the difference between sacrifice and selfishness.  We all continue to try to search for a love within ourselves, or an even greater love beyond our own mind – but why?  Why do so many of us never stop searching or wondering?  Trying to choose between settling, society and selfishness - do these choices mean we end up sabotaging our own lives and those lives around us?  And in fact living a repeat behaviour from 1909 to 2009.

There is a page in Anne Frank’s diary (pg 277 to be exact), and the first time I read it I felt the strongest lump in my throat.  Not only because it’s incredibly poetic, written from the point of view of a 15-year girl on the insanity of war, but it felt like it could have been written today about the war we’ve been fighting for the last eight years.  It's almost as though, nothing changes and overall, do we really get any further ahead?  I've traveled to parts of the world where signs of war remain, and I stood there thinking "what would have changed in history if war didn’t have to be the outcome?  Was it necessary?”.  But in the very real and honest words of Anne Frank:  "I don't believe that the big men, the politicians and the capitalists alone, are guilty of the war. Oh no, the little man is just as guilty, otherwise the peoples of the world would have risen in revolt long ago! There's in people simply an urge to destroy, an urge to kill, to murder and rage, until all mankind, without exception, undergoes a great change, wars will be waged, everything that has been built up, cultivated, and grown will be destroyed and disfigured, after which mankind will have to begin all over again." 

If you think about it, although we evolve, we continue to repeat our actions, technology is added to our lives but at the core we are the all the same in so many ways.  And how much really does change because we do re-enact war, love affairs and our actions.  As the most intelligent species on the planet, kind of makes you wonder if we’re all just insane.

now I lay me down to sleep...

From the ripe ole age of 9, I decided I wanted to be catholic.  Little did I know the lifelong implications that would come with this decision.  You see, my mom was catholic, but my dad, my brother and I were protestant.  But in grade 3, way too many of my friends were catholic and I felt left out. So with the wave of a regilious magic wand, I became a catholic.  And ever since that day, the guilt is ingrained within my veins.  

I feel guilty if I'm blessed, guilty if I'm grateful, guilty if I have money, guilty when I feel healthy, guilty sometimes for just simply being happy. Luckily years ago, I've let go of the guilt that was associated with having sex out of wedlock...talk about freedom since the day I made that decision!  It was almost becoming crippling.  Until, I let it go.

This week I've decided to release more of this guilt.  And while it feels good, it's also fearful worrying about when the lightening is going to strike.  Life has been good to me, some years better than others.  This is a good year.  But it doesn't come for free.  A lot of hard work, belief and faith goes into the things I want...sometimes I don't even realize how much.  But I do think with so much grief and poverty in the world, it's hard to wonder why some of us have so many more 'blessings', while other good people hardly have one simple blessing in a lifetime.  It seems unfair (hence, the guilt). But I also know this goes beyond my own little catholic bubble. I've had girlfriends that worried about having a second or third child because the first was so great that a curse would ensue by having more kids. But in our very short span of living, shouldn't we all want for more?   And if we get it, shouldn't we share it?  We're told at a very young age that we need to share with our others.  So when we have good things like - healthy, money and wellness - share it with those that have less.

At this middle stage in life, it's time my guilt was replaced with giving.

Dawson's Annual Holiday Greeting Card

It's that time of year again when I make my beloved pooch participate in ridiculous scenarios all in the spirit of winning "best Holiday greeting card" among all those that hit the fridge of my friends and family.  Stiff competition, but we always win. Always. (c'mon, look at that face)

This year, I thought that given that I'm learning more about the digital landscape that I'd make it digital and interactive.  But instead, I'm going to hold steadfast to my own brand, which means old skool Christmas cards - you know, the kind you get in the ole fashioned mailbox.  I love writing letters, thank you cards and yes, Christmas cards.

That said, I want to make a donation to a really good cause this year.  Dogtown and the SPCA came to mind.  But then I thought...I want my hard-earned money to go directly to an animal. So that means Dawson and I need your help. If you know of a family pet (especially a dog) that's in need of good medical care and without insurance, then I'd like to donate and help that one animal get the care they need.  So, know anyone?  If so, post a comment here or email me at cherylmunroe@hotmail.com

Peace. On Earth.

summer of 69

In 11 days, it will be my brother's 40th birthday.   

From a very young age, I knew that 40 was a special birthday. Adults seemed to do crazy things like ordering 40 pink flamingos for the front lawn.  And the birthday boy/girl used to get (really) drunk spending the next day feeling sorry for themselves (my mom included).  Society ensures that we're well aware that 40 is old, or even worse...the ever-dreaded, "Middle-Aged" label.

But now that I'm among the elite adult group, many of my friends have turned 40 in the last year.  And at 35, I'm happy to say that not one of them looked like the 40 I remember in my childhood.  Sure, that's perspective playing a key role, after all I was looking up at those old adults from a 4ft frame solely thinking that pink flamingos and a hangover were all that I had to look forward to one day.

In the vast memory bank of my mind, time ebbs and flows, but is also rapid and flickering.  It's hard to comprehend it's my big brother's turn to be 40 when just yesterday, my dad was 40 dealing with the tragic news that his parents were killed in a car accident.  And my 15-yr old brother was devastated in the arms of my father, at the loss of his grandfather.  Dad, although incredibly sad, seemed mature and stoic enough to deal with it.  He was my dad after all; nothing short of a super hero from behind my 10-yr old eyes.  Now seeing my brother turn 40 and also selfishly sitting five years away from that birthday myself, I now see that my dad was so young - dealing with the loss of his parents, while trying to be a parent himself.  Without ever asking him, I'm sure he felt in that moment of not wanting to not be an adult-40, merely wanting to just give in to the significant loss in his life.  

Middle-age, a perceived time to be negative and depressed about hitting the top of the hill. But, as you know, I'm not a big fan of society (in general terms), so to my big bro - I say just grab your crazy carpet now that you're about to make it over the hill, raise your arms in a V and slide down the other side with a smile on your face and the wind in your hair.

my adorable furry friend

After a year of waiting, I went to see Where the Wild Things Are this past Friday night.  I had full intentions of going to a friends' housewarming party, but after a brutal week I just needed to shut-it-down, put on some cozies and head to dark movie theatre.  I was so excited.  With a warm tea in hand, I sat in the back row wrapped in my puffy winter coat and kicked off my sneaks.

After spending a 100 minutes watching the relationship between Max and Carol, I felt like there were so many tender moments that reminded me of the bond I have with my sweet pooch, Dawson.  Without giving away anything significant, when the two had to say goodbye to each other on a beautiful sunny shore I started to cry (and maybe even cried some more). Spike Jonze created something on screen that was an identical dream to the way I had always envisioned the moment when I have to let go and say goodbye to my furry friend. 

When I was telling another sweet friend this story today, he looked at me and said, "but C., think about living a life where every single day you're 100% happy".  And of course, that too made me cry. But only because of the raw honesty and truth to this sentiment.

So when the time comes, I'll remind myself of her smile and the way we definitely lived 100% - together.