Special Olympics

Last night was the wrap up party for Special Olympics. We ate pizza, laughed and talked and then played "Duck, Duck, Goose". I was put in charge of explaining to the group how the game is played. So I stood up and proceeded to teach them how to play. When I got to the running part I told them to chase the person around the circle until they sit down. Ooops. One of the other coaches quickly jumped in to explain that "Noooo, you run the opposite way of the person who tagged you." All of a sudden all the special athletes starting laughing and teasing me, "What's wrong with you? Don't you know how to play Duck Duck Goose?" "It's a baby game and you don't know it!" I felt like I was stuck in some weird Adam Sandler movie and the hilarity of it all struck me as I stood in the circle being taunted by a group of special olympians. Now that's funny. Another funny thing? If "Duck Duck Goose" ever becomes an Olympic Sport, Korea is screwed because a certain teacher taught all her kids the wrong way.


Some of my Special Friends...



Caroline and...Caroline

Brotherly Love

I wonder how the conservative "Choose Straight" advocates will explain this one away?

One of the best things about Calgary? What's outside of it.

We went camping in Kananaskis this weekend and it was incredible. I've always loved camping but the older I get, the more I appreciate the effect it has on me. My mind is more quiet when I'm outside and I feel so much more in tune with my own thoughts and the world around me.

When we got to our tent site, (which was the nicest camping spot Brian and I have ever had) we realized that the little portable barbecue was missing a crucial component and therefore would not be cooking any of our meals. I decided to try doing all the cooking over the fire and it turned out awesome. We had fresh fish with marinated veggies, mussels in the shell and garlic butter rice for dinner and a full cooked breakfast on Sunday. I don't know what it is exactly but food made outdoors always seems to taste better. Maybe there isn't any Teflon residue to numb my taste buds?

Here are some pics from our weekend:



Our camp spot was about 100 feet from the lake...what a view in the morning!



The hand of God?



Lower Kananaskis Lake at sunset...



The view from our tent window...

Summer Solstice

In an attempt to go back to our Pagan roots, Brian and I headed out to Big Rock (the closest thing we could find to Stonehenge) for a little midnight sun worship...

Do these pants make my ass look fatwa?

I've been waiting for this for a long time. Yesterday, Grand Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani ordered a fatwa barring shiite Muslims from terrorist activities. Until the Muslim community comes out, vocally, against terrorism it will not stop. I realize that Muslims are reluctant to create or maintain ties between terrorism and Islam but the fact is, most people now see them as at least related if not synonymous. The Muslim community cannot continue to sit back and wait for political leaders and police authorities to catch and stop Islamic extremists. It must come from an overflowing of Muslim frustration. Muslims must speak to their own people and urge them in the name of their religion, to stop. This recent fatwa is a step in the right direction.

Muslims are probably the most scrutinized, profiled and discriminated against people on the planet right now. (Unless of course you're a gay native who practices Falun-gong)I know many Muslims and have traveled to Muslim countries where I have visited mosques and had religious discussions with Muslims about the state of Islam in the world today. I would like to think that I know better than to be scared when I see a Muslim man in an airport. And yet...when I was flying from Calgary to London a couple of weeks ago, a man with a long beard moved to the front of the plane, near the emergency exit, and began praying. As he kneeled and bowed repeatedly, facing what I can only imagine was East, the plane became visibly nervous. I myself was getting agitated. I kept thinking "We're flying into London in an hour...freakin London where all I ever hear about are Muslim terrorist plots and now this guy is praying in front of the entire plane. Is he making his peace with God just before he brings this thing crashing down into the city centre?!" I know I wasn't the only person thinking this because the people around me were looking a little nervous too. Does this make me a bad person? Have I bought into the stereotype that much? I was angry at myself for being so afraid. The man was very nice and was obviously not setting out to kill us all. He just wanted to pray in peace and talk to his God. The only thing that alleviated my guilt was the fact that the very nervous people to my right were Muslim too.

Hannah McGrath

Scotland was a blur. It was also an emotional roller coaster. Happy to see my Uncles and Aunt, sad to see Grandma so ill. Happy she was alive when I got there. Sad to think she would never make it back to her little apartment where we all camped out during our stay. Happy to get the chance to be there at all.

Grandma knew I had come to see her. Although she couldn't talk she was able to move and respond to voices. When I spoke to her and stroked her hair she struggled to talk to me. It was hard to see her so agitated and frustrated. We spent our days at the hospital, taking turns with Gran, talking to her, touching her, singing...whatever we could do to make her comfortable and let her know we were there. On my last day in Scotland I had to say good-bye. She managed to lift her head, turn and open her eyes...just enough so that I knew she knew. I cried and kissed her on her soft cheek and I walked away. She died on June 6th.

I feel so lucky that I was able to go and see her. My Grandma and I were very close and we spoke every week or two. It was always the highlight of my weekend...she always made me laugh and I was always so happy to hear her voice. Many people I have spoken to have been surprised at how close we were. I never saw Gran as an old person or called her out of a sense of duty. I saw here as a friend and a reflection of myself. She was my hero and my teacher and the most positive, funny person I have ever known.

Death is such a strange thing. As humans we have been practicing it for millions of years and yet, nobody really knows how to deal with it yet. I don't feel sad for Grandma because I know that she had a good life. Yes, I would have liked to have her around longer, heck I would have wanted her here forever but things just don't work that way. She wasn't afraid of death and she didn't suffer. When she died she died in peace with her kids holding her hand. It doesn't get much better than that. I grieve more for my own Mum and for myself because we will miss her. It's been hard not to consider the obvious consequence of this, which is an upward shift in generations. Now my Mother is the oldest generation and as I stood there watching my Mum cry over my Grandma's bed I knew that one day that would be me, and then my daughter. The circle of life just got a little smaller.

Off...

I apologize to anyone I ignore in the next week. I'm going to Scotland tomorrow night and won't be back until next weekend...maybe later. My Grandma is in hospital and I don't know if she's going to make it through this. It came as quite a surprise...I knew she had been admitted into hospital but didn't think it was very serious. Today Brian and I went to my Mum and Dad's house for breakfast and we got a phone call to tell us that things had taken a turn for the worse. It was a somber breakfast to say the least. I just hope I can get there in time...

Nimirum in Rhyme

I had a long lost friend once,
he said "life is a trip"
I listened to him intently and
bit my bottom lip.

Because I knew what was coming,
what loomed far up ahead,
our lives are slowly ending,
in 100 years we'll all be dead.

Dying people shouldn't dream,
they shouldn't hope to fly,
We should be good to ourselves,
and sit and sip before we die.

Gallivanting and gyrating
will only hasten sleep,
and death will leap upon you,
while on quiet it will creep.

I pity the fools who live each day,
denying there's an end,
while I know sitting, sleeping here,
each hour is on lend

and though I have seen nothing
and count existence as a bore,
I know that when the darkness calls,
My friend will miss life more.

Red or Blue or Both?

One of my friends at Special Olympics tells me, every time I see her, that she believes in God. He seems to be a large part of her life. Brian once lived with a man named Kenny who also had a very strong relationship with his faith and with God. He too had mental disabilities and this seemed to make faith a lot easier for him. Now, before anyone gets all worked up, I am not saying that people who believe in God are lacking their faculties. I'm merely saying that for some people the world is a simple place and living forever in heaven requires nothing but a little faith and some bible camp sing-a-longs.

This got me thinking. If I could just believe, if I could take some kind of pill and just believe in God and heaven and eternal life, would I take it? And if I had a child who was able to believe in those things would I be doing them a favour by encouraging it? If I were to have a little Kenny would it be kind of me to teach him all about God and how much He loves him and allow him to have a life of blissful faith? Or is it a disservice? Would I explain away a serious illness by invoking demons or "bad air"? Probably not. Brian believes that people only feel a religious void when faith is lost. If you are raised as an atheist, he doubts that you would ever long for more explanation or for religious experience. I'm not so sure about this. People created religions to fill a void which must have pre-existed religion in the first place.

Having said that, maybe it's merely having a construct to use in the world and it doesn't require a supernatural component at all. Maybe being told from day one that we are biological creatures who die but become part of the larger universe is enough to stem the human desire for more. Maybe, information will one day replace faith in that archaic brain of ours.

Foot in Mouth Disease

I wouldn't really label myself an innocent in any sense of the word, but I must admit that I seem to have missed some crucial education somewhere along the way. Every once in a while I will be caught out in saying something really bad without even realizing I've said anything. Like the time I told my professor that I was a member of the Mile High Club. I had no idea what I was talking about.

This morning, I told my friend Greg that Brian was going to grow a Dirty Sanchez. He lost it. I thought he was going to cry he was laughing so hard. I asked him what was so funny and he couldn't really even answer me. Obviously Dirty Sanchez isn't what I thought it was. Greg wouldn't enlighten me (couldn't enlighten me between gasps for air) so I called Brian. After hearing what it really is (if you don't know you'll have to do some of your own research) I realized that it is NOT the little Mexican mustache I had previously thought.

The things you learn.

Things that make me laugh...

1. Dooce
2. People who buy Volvos because they're safe and then drive them like maniacs.
3. People who apply suncreen (presumably to protect them from the sun's damaging rays) while smoking.
4. Women in high-heel shoes in airports.
5. Fancy people who don't bother to wash their hands in the bathroom.
6. Stephen Harper's hair
7. When other people laugh...especially Brian
8. The term "Beep...boop...bap." Funniest when said in a high pitched robot voice.
9. Kurt Vonnegut
10. The absurdity of it all.

Butterflies...if you throw it hard enough.

So much has been going on and I've been so busy that I've neglected writing...I hate having to play catch up. So I won't...I'll just brush over the bare details. Brian finished school and I love having him back. He's at home working on the house and being bored while loving every minute of it. I'm his sugar mama.

I've been coaching Track & Field (notice how track & field automatically gets written with an ampersand instead of the word "and"? That's really weird...has it been branded and packaged that way? How did that happen?) for the Special Olympics for a few weeks now and I am loving it. It is easily the most rewarding thing I've done and I have a lot of fun.

Work is going well. The weather has been warm. I planted a cute garden with a little shrub and a mini white picket fence and I transplanted tulips from the back and put them in the front. They promptly died. Just goes to show you what an effect your environment can have on your health!

My parents came back from Europe and my brother gets back from Nepal tonight...all the Knox's back in one country...hooray!!

Hmmm...what else have I been up to? Oh, I know...I just wrote the most boring blog post ever.

Making Memories

Yesterday I packed a picnic lunch (using all the nifty picnic paraphernalia I brought back from Korea) and met Brian at the University where he had finished his fourth of six exams. The sun was shining and we set up our picnic blanket on the grass in a grove of tress near the Mormon church. No significance there except for the free parking. We had such a great time. We ate the Easter dinner leftovers and fresh cheese and bread from the deli. After lunch we laid down and let the sun warm our faces. I felt so happy I could have burst. We laughed and it felt so good to be lying on a red and white picnic blanket on a warm April day with my husband. The bright sun gave it all a kind of dreamlike quality...or like a memory sequence in a movie. Where everything gets a little fuzzy and too perfect to be accurate. But it was accurate and everything was a little fuzzy and I loved it that way.

Like the Branch Davidians miss their David, so I miss Easter...

I actually missed Church this past weekend. Not because I suddenly started believing in God again but because I missed the rituals that made up such a large part of my Catholic youth. Easter consisted of more church than any other season and truth be told, I loved it. I was fervently religious as a child and I now realize that I was trying desperately to receive some kind of sign. When I kissed that old wooden cross at the front of the church on the "day Jesus died" I imagined as hard as I could what it must have been like to die under the hot sun and above the jeering crowds. I cried for Jesus and sent him messages of love and thanks with all my little heart. When it came time to have our feet washed I tried not to feel the tickle of the old priest's gnarly hands and imagined it was Jesus himself cleansing me of my sins. On Palm Sunday I waited anxiously for the part when the Holy water would be sprinkled across my row and felt renewed and freed as soon as the tiny droplets hit my skin. Easter was the greatest day of the year as I rejoiced that Jesus had risen and given me chocolate.

I actually thought about going to Sunday mass last week, just to relive it all again. To me this does nothing but illustrate the incredible power of ritual and tradition. There is a reason the Catholic church uses so many ritualistic elements in its services and why its been around so long...if you do anything for long enough its bound to seem normal. And not so completely crazy.

Life and Death and Rain

It's dark and raining this morning and it looks sort of foreboding and eerie outside. I love the rain...it means spring is coming and everything will be clean again...oh, and the smell. That fresh "good things are coming" smell...it's enough to make me cry.

I experienced a runners high for the first time in my life last night. I've had friends who've told me about this phenomenon and claimed to have experienced it but I honestly didn't believe them. What I felt every time I went running was hot, sweaty, tired and in agony. Not exactly a high. But last night something happened. I don't know what cosmic circumstance aligned for it to happen but I know at one point I felt freed from my body like I was invincible and as light as a feather. I felt like I was floating and that I could run forever. It was awesome.

I've been thinking about death a lot lately. Now, I think about death a lot anyway but a few people I knew have died in the past several months and that has got me thinking. After millions of years of evolution you would think that humans would have come up with a way to deal with death better than we do. I find it a hard concept to get my head around. The idea that someone is there, with feelings, a smile and a history and then suddenly, they aren't. It doesn't seem to make any sense, even though I know it makes perfect sense. I heard Margaret Atwood say once that our ability to understand death is hampered by the English language. We think in a first person language that has past, present and future tenses. We struggle when we try to drop the subject or the future tense...it just doesn't work.

These thoughts of death haven't been sad so much as just considering it as my certain fate. I have always appreciated the small things in life and have made an effort to slow down and feel grateful for being alive. Lately I have been trying even harder to live life actively as opposed to by default. The TV has been put away for months now and neither Brian nor I has dragged it out. I have been running, breathing deeply and talking to friends a lot. I'm eating healthier than I ever have. I've started doing a lot of volunteering and getting involved in the community and it feels good. I feel alive. The way I figure it, if I've never really felt alive I won't be able to appreciate feeling dead.

An Invisible Praying Dragon

The idea that prayer can heal the sick has been around for a very long time. Today, the results of the world's largest study were released, and guess what? Prayer has no effect on health or on recovery. The study was done over a span of ten years and involved 1,800 patients. I'm satisfied with the results given the paradigms of the study and the number of top-notch researchers involved (some of them with a religious bias I might add). What annoys me is the response that I know will meet these results.

The same religious people who have quoted previous, less reliable research that showed prayer to be effective will dismiss this study. Others will argue that science cannot test religion and that its silly to try (Of course, had the results been positive the same people would be shouting from the rooftops, "Science proves the existence of God!") and then there will be the obvious, God knew we were testing him and withheld his amazing healing powers as an attempt to teach those silly scientists a lesson. Nice God.

When a stance, whether it be religious or otherwise, requires so much mental gymnastics that you're tied up in a knot or leads you to take all your reasoning skills and put them on a shelf, you might just want to re-examine your position.

Carl Sagan, as usual, says it best...

Thunderings

I think I have some kind of attachment disorder. Usually people who aren't cuddled and loved enough as infants develop some kind of pathological aversion to deeper human relationships. I think I may have been over-cuddled because I have difficulty making a distinction between stranger and friend. I really care about people and that's not always a good thing.

I have learned the following things lately:

1. It is not normal to miss the guy who bought your car. It's not acceptable to wonder aloud how "Steve is liking the car" and "whether he's happy". Yah, apparently that's weird.

2. It's abnormal to buy things online just so you can visit people's houses and get a quick "peek at their life".

3. Hunting people down on the internet because you had a crush on them in grade two isn't "bumping into an old friend"...it's creepy.

4. Talking about your friends Heather and John as though they are your next door neighbours and not people who happen to run a website is also weird. In fact, having a whole host of "web friends" who you've never met but email regularly tends to be frowned upon. But not by the people emailing me because they are emailing me back...so maybe that's not weird?

5. Most people tend to put up big fat walls and I don't. I don't like to waste time. I am what I am and we've got so much to say and so many people are so damn worried about what others will think that they don't realize we are all dying. You have nothing to hide and everything to lose.

Anyway, the point it that I don't actually have to have MET someone to care about them. I need to feel connected to a lot of people. I like to know what other people are doing with their little slice of life and I want to hear all their stories. It makes me feel human and connected and not so alone on this big blue ball. (Big blue ball...ha...anyway...) Brian laughs at me because I am forever tracking down old friends and writing to them but you know what? They usually write me back so maybe they need it just as much as I do. Only they didn't know it yet.

Quarter Life Analysis

I was listening to the radio last night and they were interviewing the author of Dish, a new book about women in midlife. The author was saying just how many women feel as though they lived the first half of their lives for other people and it got me thinking. I am sure there are decisions I have made that were designed to please others, but there haven't been many. In that respect I feel very lucky. I know that women tend to struggle with saying no and feeling guilty for taking care of themselves. I find it very sad that so many women have neglected their own wants and needs in order to satisfy someone else, or even worse, social expectations. As I look at my life today I don't feel like it has been shaped much by either and that feels good. I realize that this may change in the next few years but at least I know I won't wake up at 50 and wonder who the hell I am living for.

A Thousand Lives Will Do...

I wonder if I am ever going to figure out what I want to do with my life or whether I'm destined to spend my whole life looking...not that that would be a horrible thing. It would be far worse I suppose to just give up entirely or even worse to never really care at all.

I have come to the realization that despite my love for writing and other "artsy" endeavors, I am at my truest, a scientist. Nothing makes me hotter than the endocrine system, maximum velocity and cell regulation. I love the feeling I get when I know my brain is working at maximum capacity and I am really struggling to understand a concept. I haven't felt that way in awhile.

Now I need to decide whether I'm satisfied with having a relatively easy job and finding things outside of work to occupy my brain or whether I'm going to go back where I belong and make my life a lot harder. I also need to figure out who will pay the bills while I do that.

Bros and Books

I spent last weekend in Edmonton with my not-so-little-little brothers. I honestly can't remember the last time it was just the three of us. Boyfriends, girlfriends or parents are usually present so it was really great to just hang out with both of them. Craig leaves for Nepal on the 31st and is getting really excited for his trip. It's his first big adventure and what a place to start with!

I just finished A Complicated Kindness by Miriam Toews and I actually cried at the end. It was so good! It's written from the perspective of a young Mennonite girl in Manitoba (I think) and it has been resonating within my little head ever since I finished it. It was nominated for the Giller Prize so I assumed it was well written (and it was) but I never thought I would be so moved and drawn in to the lives of the characters. Awesome.

Reason for not writing much? Life is deliciously, boringly, perfect. Pain breeds literature, perfection breeds sex.