THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK:

…or are people less polite than they were 10 years ago? That’s the question I have been asking people lately. Turns out I am not alone in noticing this downward societal trend.

Two thoughts ran through my mind like fire through pine beetle surrendered forests; the first, quickly delivered inside my own laughter sounded like, “He’s poking fun at me!” the second, as quickly delivered with a stun similar to the emotion carried by a falling tree was, “My ancestors are poking fun at him!”

I can still hear the crickets, and the woodpecker with the bright red cap that hung out by the old school for as long as I can remember. The tide is low; the smell of seaweed is intense. The huckleberries are so vivid in my mind’s eye that I’m sure I can smell them, though I know they have no scent.

It is truly wonderful what has been accomplished by and for women in the last century. Equal rights and opportunities at home, in society and in a career setting. We have come so far that it seems being a stay-at-home mother is an exception. Double income families have become the rule, and we have shaped our society and education to fit that choice of lifestyle. At the same time, life has become expensive, especially in a city like Victoria, to the point where having a doubl

I’ve heard it said that addiction is like playing Russian roulette; No one knows when they take that first drink or do that first drug, if they have the addiction gene or not. They do what many people do socially in society with no repercussion. Nothing happens to them. But someone with an addictive gene does the same thing, and they are addicted.

There are so many questions I ask myself over and over each night as I lay my head down to sleep. Well I am going to try to figure out the answers to those questions as I begin this new journey into writing. They say what better way to figure out a problem than to put it in writing to see if it really is a problem, or (as I hope) the beginning of a new path in life.

First, I made my recovery my number one priority and nothing else mattered. I decided that my life meant something to me, and I held onto my chair for all it was worth. I knew that my hard-wired coping and thinking could get me into trouble.

Have you ever heard or been almost ready to say, “When I was young...?” Cue the eye rolling! The “old oak bucket syndrome” is rarely welcome in a generational discussion.

The retirement to do list had started at least 10 years before, and every time I was overly stressed or it was a beautiful day, I would think to myself, Just wait … it’s coming!

Instead of “How are you?” do your friends ask, “Where have you been?”

In 1996, the man of my dreams entered my life. He embraced me for who I am, my kids and our animals. Ron, a father of two, dared me to allow myself to dream again. One of the first questions he asked was, “What have you always wanted to do?”

...it has occurred to me that without the ebb of confidence, we would never experience the joy of the flow of it.

Personal history is about saving our stories before it’s too late, so that generations to come will know who we were and where they came from, and to give them a personal, meaningful understanding of history.

“There will always be skeptics and there will always be opinionated people, but to do what you truly believe in, is an accomplishment which very few people can actually take ownership of.”

What does this mean for the future … my future, my kids’ future, my human community and my ecological community? These are complex, interconnected issues with no simple solutions. I believe that it is our role and responsibility as women to become fully engaged in the creative design possibilities for the time ahead. Whatever our individual gifts are, we need to apply the female perspective to co-create an equitable and ecologically sustainable future based on sharing, car

Almost every one of my report cards in primary school had the word "chatterbox" in the conduct section. I did then, and do to this day, talk a lot. I talk to pretty well every person I meet - in a store, on a bus, in an elevator, wherever...

There’s this thing that women do. You’ll never see two men doing it; but you’ll often see large groups of women doing it; sometimes you’ll catch a lone woman on a phone doing it—apparently all alone. But she isn’t alone; on the other end of that line, there’s another woman doing exactly the same thing.

The notion of becoming more comfortable with getting uncomfortable has shaped my world into a magical place.

The only thing that can get in our way is ourselves, and only we can challenge the inner bitch.

Some ideas you just can't let go of. No matter what anyone says, or how long ago it was. Because you just know it might be worth one more try. Island Gals Magazine was an idea that came to me almost 15 years ago. A printed gathering place of sorts, where ordinary women - your neighbours, your friends, maybe your dentist or just someone you met along the way in life - could share their incredible relatable experiences, and words of wisdom you could put in your pocket and pu