A lesson on how to nip hatred in the bud

How often have you listened to someone and thought, I don’t like what you say? Or worse, watched them and thought, I don’t like what you do?

I hope you don’t experience this too often with people you know personally. If you watch the daily news coverage, I’ll bet the answer would be — daily. I’m a news junkie and catch myself thinking I don’t like you every day. That can’t be good.

I know people who have vowed to look away. They don’t watch news coverage at all anymore. I don’t subscribe to that method, though. I want to know when the world is collapsing so I can prepare. …

We live in a highly predictable world, but it wasn’t always this way. Our ancestors faced unknowns around every corner, and they did it with grace. If tolerance for uncertainty was a muscle, they used it and built up some impressive bulk. We’ve let that muscle wither and atrophy.

How did we get so soft?

Today we have apps to predict almost everything, weather, traffic, book recommendations, music, you name it, there’s an app for it. Most of us enjoy the comfort of knowing what to expect and when. Then the pandemic hit and boom, we’re left struggling with an intolerance of uncertainty.

“Fear and anxiety many times indicates that we are moving in a positive direction, out of the safe confines of our comfort zone, and in the direction of our true purpose.”
― Charles F. …

They say hearing is the last sense to go, so choose carefully

So many people have died recently because of COVID-19 and most would have died alone. What was the last thing they heard before they passed, I wonder?

The sterile sounds of medical equipment alarms and beeps are likely the last sounds they heard. Perhaps the reassurances and a few kind words from nurses and doctor's right before their intubation? Not ideal. Not altogether soothing either, I would imagine.

When I envision myself in their bedsheets, I’m terrified and sad. So it’s got me thinking about what sounds I’d like to hear right before I pass away. I’m fine, by the way. …

Low pressure days feel heavier, yes, but could I also be SAD?

Whenever the clouds are really low like this, I feel the weight of them pushing down on me. Am I imagining this or is it an actual phenomenon?

I read an article once that claimed lower pressure means less oxygen in the atmosphere, which means less oxygen in the body, and that can make us feel sluggish. I don’t know if there is a valid science behind that, but it feels possible. Or maybe it’s just an excuse to be lazy on a grey day.

I took the above photo on my walk this morning. A walk I did not want to go on, but my husband insisted. We do this walk every day. Rain or shine or snow. But today I really, really didn’t feel like going. He almost had to push me out the door. …

I know during these trying times it’s more popular to tout positivity. I shouldn’t nitpick but — you knew there was a but — I have been more disappointed with people lately than I can recall ever having been before.

When I say they disappoint me, what I really mean is they’ve let me down. Or at least they’ve let down my expectations of them and that’s on me.

“Expectation is the root of all heartache.”

I thought I knew these people. I thought they were kind, rational humans. Didn’t they used to be?

If it weren’t for Trump or this pandemic, two highly unusual phenomenons happening at once, shaking up all the norms, I may never have seen their true colours. …

You were adopted into a loving home from what we know. I’m happy for you.

Our mother was just 17 when she became pregnant with you in 1961. Her parents sent her away from the small town where they lived to the big city, far away from small town gossip. She felt banished, alone, and frightened.

Throughout her pregnancy, she stayed in a “home for unwed mothers” run by the Presbyterian church. The sisters were often cruel.

Her father threatened her boyfriend, your birth father, who left town immediately. She considered your birth father cowardly for leaving her and never forgave him. …