My Child...My Teacher

Eleven years ago today, I became a mother for the second time. My son came rushing into this world and hasn’t stopped moving since then. The urgency in which he arrived has not ever subsided. He walks this Earth in constant motion and awe, always searching for the bigger and the better, always questioning the who, what, where, when and (the one that drives me absolutely nuts!) THE WHY.  It is precisely this urgency that makes him who he is and keeps his wheels turning.

Filled with a desire to learn EVERYTHING, I often hear him say he is looking for his passion. I love this about him because he hasn’t pigeon holed himself into one box and is desperate to try everything once, just in case “it” may be his true passion.  But I see what his passion is, learning and discovery.  And I will never tell him this because watching him search for his long awaited passion is marvelous to observe.  I am astounded by the way he absorbs things and I am intrigued by the questions he asks.

His world of wonder started right from the time he could talk.  It began with him as a toddler.  I would kiss his little head goodbye and leave for work, always wondering about what new things he would want to have explained later that night. He would sit with my mother at the breakfast table and watch as she would flip through the newspaper.  “Grandma, what’s that?” he would ask, pointing to a photo and she would explain.  Then the questions would come and she would sit answering what she could. His fascination was with the obituaries and seeing the photos of those who have passed.  He needed to know why they died, what the cause was and how old they were. And then he would say, “that’s sad.” 

The questions never stop.  This intense curiousity courses through his veins like fire.  It burns inside him and I hope it is never extinguished.  However, there are moments when I wish I could put a cap on the number of questions he asks but how do you tell a child that they have reached their quota? Thank goodness for the internet!  He is now at an age where I can say “google it”.  Now, the role is somewhat reversed because although the questions still abound he can figure it out himself and teach me.  And I must say that having an 11 year old explain who Tesla was or why Modigliani and Picasso were frenemies sheds a whole different perspective on things. My child…my teacher.

Through his search for his passion, my son has discovered he has an amazing sense of humour. Yes, he is a boy and can be quite silly but there is more to his humour than wet willies and knock-knock jokes.  It is intelligent and witty and the ease in which his quick comebacks and replies come to him is exceptional. Could it be his acute awareness of the world around?  Whatever it is, this little man makes me laugh daily.  And the best part is hearing his laugh which is absolutely infectious. 

Showing affection is a bit uncomfortable for him at this age. In fact, it is 100% embarrassing.  Hugs are given half heartedly or disguised as something else more manly.  Forget about kisses! EEEEW….they get wiped off his face as soon as they are planted. But little does he know, every night, before I go to sleep, I go into his room, push his hair from his forehead and kiss him ever so gently whispering “I love you”.  And somehow, as he stirs, I can swear I see a little smile appear on his face.

So today, I raise a glass (apple juice of course!) to the most important man in my life, the one who loves me no matter what, the one who makes me realize how wonderful the journey of being a mother is.  Happy Birthday to my baby boy!

Talk to me! Have you discovered your true passion yet?

If Life Were a Series of Camera Filters

Capturing a moment in time with a single click whether it's with a smartphone or fancy camera allows the photographer the ability to share that moment for years to come. Photography is something I have recently become enamored with and am constantly searching for those poignant instances I know will spark conversations well after I leave this world.

My eye is getting better when searching for the right light or composition. The photos are pieces of art for me and I love being able to change a filter to help evoke more of the emotion I am attempting to catch. The use of filters made me think about what my life would look like if I could adjust a filter to convey a clear message to onlookers about my most pivotal moments.

Graduating from university, the first in my family, would be captured in a bright light, halo around me and a twinkle in my eye. Would I box it in with a frame? No, the world was my playground and opportunities seemed endless. Bright possibilities for an unknown future and excitement about what next lay ahead. This moment would have been shot with a lot of light and sparkle.

Filters with warm hues of orange and red would tell my story of my time living abroad in the land down under. It was an easy time when life was laid back and filled with meeting new people from around the world. The warmth of the hot sun could be felt even under the shade of a tree. An idyllic time of my youth until the dark black and grey filters of a failing relationship seeped in along the edges and slowly dimmed my light.

The years that encapsulated two failing marriages were dim, blurred and sad. No colour filters could be used to capture this time. The lines were harsh and broken, images foggy and my face barely recognizable. The scenes were almost melancholic and heartbreaking. I was lost in the grey and needed to find bright lights and colour again. And I did.

The colour exploded back into my life with filters that have clarity and focus to what became my most important reasons for being, my children. The images were sharp, playful and full of movement. They added vibrancy and depth to my life with the realization that things would be good again. And it was. It is.

 

So what filter am I using in my life now? Colours are a bit muted, a bit retro. Images are fading into the past, which can only mean one thing. Life is going to change. I feel it. And I think this next chapter will be the most vivid, the most colourful, the most wonderful yet.

Talk to me! What filter would represent your life right now?

Watch, Learn, Grow and Love

Twenty years ago I returned home after travelling abroad. I spent just over a year exploring parts of the world that were exquisite and exotic and fantastic and foreign. Backpacking after graduating university proved to be one of the most eye opening experiences in my life and the lessons I learned then have helped form who I am today.

The flight from Toronto to Australia was ridiculously long so after some consideration a decision was made to start the journey westward by train to Los Angeles where I would then board a plane for Sydney. It was during this sabbatical from the 9 to 5 days of “normal life” when I realized how much I LOVE to travel. I wasn’t sure about living out of a backpack, staying in hostels and travelling by bus, train, plane and automobile.  I just didn’t do these things. They weren’t part of my everyday existence and the idea of leaving my so called “ivory tower” was terrifying. But I did and I lived to share my story.

Up until I left, my world was a small, comfortable place created by friends, family and myself.  The walls that surrounded me were cushioned and there was always someone around to kiss any bumps or bruises I had.  I had always thought I was an independent girl, wanting to do things for herself, never letting fear stop her, taking that proverbial leap of faith when that was all I had. Well, I was wrong. My independence, my true sense of independence came from this adventure.

I was on the other side of the world before the days of the Internet and Facebook. Daily communication with those who had been my security blanket all my life was very sparse and costly! There was no one around to tell me to do this or not do that. I did what I wanted. Reverse bungee jumping, rappelling down an 18 story building, drinking Bundaberg rum until I couldn’t stand any longer. So, maybe some of my choices weren’t the smartest but isn’t that what growing up is about?  Learning how to make these choices, suffering the repercussions of the wrong ones and basking in the glory of the right ones?

Twenty years later I am sitting here reflecting on that year away and my memory is flooded with the good, bad and ugly of the trip. In the midst of all this, I have one memory that has been etched in permanent ink in my mind.  It is one of the places my minds drifts to when I want a break from the monotony of my day.

In the distance, a splendid haze of reddish-orange blasts against a crystal clear blue sky. It is almost 350 metres high and about 4 kilometres long. Ayers Rock stands in front of me, smack dab in the middle of an empty plain known as the Red Centre. The thrill here is to climb to the top and see how vast plains really are. I had fully intended to embark upwards on this journey that would bring me closer to Nirvana.

Walking along the base taking note of the beauty of this magnificent chunk of ancient sandstone, I met a man named Peter. He was a delightful old man who shared the many legends behind “Uluru”, the aboriginal word for the rock.  Every feature of the rock means something to them, from the cracks and fissures to the caves and waterholes. Natives don’t climb the rock as a tribute to their belief and herein lay an issue that Peter struggled with daily: the clash between ancient traditions and what now has become modern tradition – climbing the rock. 

We continued to talk as we walked. I noticed glimmering plaques all inscribed with the names of the brave few who perished in their own battle with Uluru. It was then I made the decision to sit and not climb up with the rest. There are times when I wonder what I missed by not climbing up but then I think about what the climbers missed by not sitting down and enjoying what was in front of them.  I am happy I took that time to enjoy and focus on the moment instead of using mind, body and soul to get me to the summit. An ancient aboriginal proverb says, “We are all visitors to this time, this place... Our purpose here is to observe, to learn, to grow, to love and then we return home." And this is what I learned sitting in the tranquil beauty of theses plains.

Ayers Rock, Northern Territory
Australia
Photo credit Audrey Bresar

It was 2 ½ hours since the others made their ascent before I see them cantering down the last part of Ayers Rock exhausted. The battle between man and rock is over. Man has won, this time.  The chatter of how arduous the climb was and how beautiful the sight was from atop began. I listened and smiled politely, noticing that the sun was setting and in the midst of all the excitement, I looked over the crowd and saw the most incredible thing.

Watching the sun set around this sacred piece of rock, a beautiful metamorphosis occurs.  The monolith that stood so majestically changes its colour from fierce red to warm orange and then a deeper shade of crimson and finally a silent grey. The red rock that towers over on-lookers, that holds the secrets of many battles and that defeated some of those who tried to conquer it now sleeps like a baby in the distance.

Maybe it is not so intimidating after all.
 

Talk to me! Where did you find your independence? What did you learn?

Dreamers

I descend from a long line of dreamers. Not everyone in my family walks around with this romanticized version of what life should entail running in their minds. Some are plagued with the acceptance of whatever will be, will be and have no patience for the few of us that do. The dreamers possess this internal belief that today life is great but the best is still to come.

 

Whether it's my good fortune or misfortune, I am one of the dreamers. I follow in the footsteps of my grandfather before me who was a classic dreamer. A man who dreamed and laughed and lived fully.

 

Not long ago I was having a discussion with a dear friend who is blessed by the same dreamer tendency and I casually mentioned something that has truly etched itself into the very core of my being. I am not done being great.

 

This comment is in no way meant to be narcissitic. I don't think I am better than anyone else or deserve anything more than my neighbour. I am simply a person who continually strives to learn, to see, to do. To think that I have done it all would be premature. To deny myself the time to dream about what next would result in a whole world of experience that would be lost to me. So I am not done.

 

I know this because I am forever reaching; forever pushing; forever doing. I need to satisfy the constant hunger inside of me to evolve. I need my life to be fluid. What I can't explain is what this hunger feels like. Is it excitement? Anticipation? Wonderment or expectation? It's a fire inside the pit of my stomach with everything rolled into one bundle of "what ifs" that drives me.

 

Dreamer can hold some negative connotation. Dreamers are lazy. Dreamers can't focus. Dreams are just dreams. But what if we lived in a world void of dreamers? There would have been no Leonardo DaVinci, no Martin Luther King Jr., no John Lennon, no Walt Disney. The key is in my comment I made to my friend.

 

I am not DONE being great.

 

I can dream all I want. I can feel all the tingle of anticipation of what's to come. But I need to DO. Some people feel that dreamers don't do but I think not all doers are dreamers. Dreamers, the ones that make a difference, are the quintessential doers. It's the passion in these dreamers that catapults them into doing. If DaVinci didn't have passion, we wouldn't have the Mona Lisa. If MLK didn't have a dream, where would the world be today?

 

There will always be those non-dreamers feel compelled to inject a dose of "reality" into our dreams. It is something I face often. "You will never be famous writing. The market is too competitive", "You won't like to live in Europe. Vacationing is one thing, living there is another" "True love doesn't exist". And these are the simple dreams. Imagine if I shared the more complex ones?! I'd never hear the end of "but I'm only looking out for your best interests". My reality incorporates my dreams, it doesn't work against them. Of course, some don't always work out the way I want but it doesn't deter me from creating space in my mind where anything is possible.

 

So in the immortal words of John Lennon "you may say I'm a dreamer but I'm not the only one" and I'd rather live my life with dreams than not.

 

Talk to me...If you can dream it, you can do it. What is the dream that moves your forward daily?

My Big Fat Greek Vacation

Jet lag is finally gone (I think!) and reality has sunk in. Sixteen days of absolute bliss are now embedded in my memory, only to be drawn upon when everyday life gets crazy. Greece was incredible and it was the much needed break I desperately required to reset mind, body and soul.

Hot days were filled with mini-adventures along the western coast of this Mediterranean jewel. The kids and I stayed with family and our experience was more authentic and true than if we had booked hotels and tours. For this, I am forever grateful to L and G and the multitude of friends they brought into our lives. We were welcomed at the Athens airport by a wonderful Greek man, who offered to pick us up and take us to the bus station. His command of the English language was minimal and my knowledge of Greek was nil but we still managed to communicate using hand gestures and a lot of smiles. Even on the bus, I sat beside a man who spoke very little but managed to convey a hearty "Welcome to my country". I was becoming enamoured with the friendliness and immense pride of the Greek people very quickly.

My children were welcomed into the inner circle of my family's neighbours and embraced wholeheartedly. Again, language was a bit of an issue but children have this remarkable way of communicating without speaking a word. Watching these new friends take the hands of my children, I couldn't help but think "if only children ruled the world". They are already making plans for a longer visit next year, without MOM.

Letter from the kids in the neighbourhood to my children

I discovered that Greece is more than the photos we see of Santorini and Mykonos. Inside the shorelines of the birthplace of so much of the modern world lies many hidden gems. My cousin brought us to one of these treasures, a place called Meteora. It is a picturesque sandstone complex that houses six Eastern Orthodox monasteries that are built on top of each pillar. I had never seen anything like this before and was blown away at how pretty it was. How these monasteries were constructed high above the ground on the surface of each pillar was incredible. The walk up was one that left me shaky and sore for days! Walking around the monastery I felt as though I was that much closer to heaven. The view was incredible and the silence that filled the air was almost mystical.



Meteora
Photo by Audrey Bresar

A visit to Greece would not be complete without an island tour. As I mentioned, we did not venture to the tourist islands of the south but were able to explore one of the northwest islands in the Aegean, Skiathos. Our boat ride was an event. It made me remember how happy people on vacation are.  The captain, a man lovingly referred to as “Tarzan”, made the voyage over incredibly entertaining. Gathering up all passengers from the top deck, he cranked up the music and taught them the basics of the Sirtaki, a traditional Greek dance. Once the dancing was over, the true spirit of this Greek sailor took hold. “Look a dolphin on the right!” he screamed over the speaker and the entire boatload of passengers ran to the right.  Seconds later, “Sorry, I meant left!” and passengers went left causing the boat to rock. All that could be heard was a little chuckle over the speaker. Rocking the boat was all part of the experience. 


Skiathos
Photo by Audrey Bresar

 
As the boat sailed up to the port of Skiathos, I gasped. This was what I pictured Greece to look like. Pristine white buildings with pink bougainvilleas flanked against a clear blue sky and turquoise water. Sailboats dotted the port and cafes were filled along the waterfront. Needless to say, I could have stayed forever, sitting in one of those cafes with pen in hand and notebook open, chronicling what I saw and what I could imagine. A writer’s dream. 


Skiathos
Photo by Audrey Bresar

The kids wanted, no craved, more ruins.  They wanted to see the things that they only read about. Fortunately, they both studied Greek civilization and mythology this year and it woke up some intense curiousity on their part. So off we headed to Dion and Mount Olympus. I have to say that walking through the ruins of this ancient and important city was chilling. Alexander the Great walked these steps. My son was completely loving this part of the experience. Mosaics from ancient bath houses, statues of the gods, theatres and homes of the people of Dion had been dug up and made available for all to see.



Mosaic tiles at Dion
Photo by Audrey Bresar

The island of Evia, surrounded by green and turquoise water, was a welcome surprise.  Once thought to have been part of the mainland, Evia possesses a secret known by few, the healing mineral baths of Edipsos.  The water ranges from cool to extreme. Young and old, Greek tourists and locals sit on the pinkish rocks letting the thermal waters flow upon them and work their healing powers. I felt invigorated moving back and forth from the hot running water to the cooler water of the sea. It was blissful.


Evia
Photo by Audrey Bresar



The Hot Springs
Evia
Photo by Audrey Bresar

Our last stop on this amazing journey was Athens. Now I had heard mixed reviews on what to expect. Beautiful, old, dirty, crowded. I tried not to let other peoples experiences cloud my initial thoughts. What I will tell you is that as the kids and I walked into Monistiraki and saw the Acropolis peaking down through the buildings, I felt chills. This is something we don’t experience in a young country like Canada; the feeling of being part of something so much bigger, of historical significance. It hit me like a tonne of bricks. I was in the same place as some of the great minds that helped shape modern civilization. Walking up (seemed like everywhere we went it was an upward climb!) the Acropolis, the kids were amazed. The Parthenon, thousands of years old, still stood. Of course the questions erupted like a volcano. “How can it still stand?” “Why are parts missing?” “Who fixes them and how do they know what it looked like?” “Did the gods really exist?”  I absolutely LOVE the curiousity that lives within them. (Of course, I had to google everything to formulate an even plausible reply).



The Parthenon
Photo by Audrey Bresar

This trip reset a lot of things. I was able to slow down and catch up with life, with me and with the kids. We had no pressure and enjoyed the moments that seemed to linger just a little bit longer while there.  We did see wonderful things but this journey was about reconnecting.  And we did that through a shared experience and being in the moment without interruption.

So the question now is “Where do we go next year?”

Talk to me! What is your summer adventure this year?

Love to Travel, Hate to Pack

I love to travel. There is something intoxicating about discovering new places and seeing parts of the world most only read about. 

Tomorrow my kids and I head to the land where democracy, the Olympic Games, philosophy, math, science and drama were born. We will be able to enjoy sun, sand and explore Mt. Olympus, mythical home of the Greek gods.  And I am looking forward to every second of this adventure. 

What I DON'T love is the pre-travel crap that needs to get done before I lock my front door and embark on my journey.  

This past month has proved to be busier than most. On top of all the regular running around, there were a few more items that I added to my schedule. As you read in a previous post, I had decided to redecorate my bedroom. This entailed moving things around, purging and moving furniture. The last item in the big overhaul is painting one more dresser, which will be completed today. I have resigned myself to the fact that the finishing touches will have to wait until I return. 

My day job has been quite busy also. I have tried to cram 2 months work into 1 month to ensure there is no lapse in momentum. Montreal and Chicago were also added to my agenda as meetings were booked. There was a point where I thought I wouldn't get it all done but I prevailed and everything should run smoothly while I am away *crossesfingers*

The best part of being a mom are the last minute requests that are thrown at your perfectly scheduled time management plan. This week, in my mind, was supposed to be filled with finishing up laundry, packing, cleaning the house - you know crossing all the T's and dotting all the I's. As the saying goes, the best laid out plans... Monday night at 9pm I heard the frantic cry of "Mom, I need a fruit platter for tomorrow!"  So I shut down the computer and off I trekked to the grocery store.  Wednesday night, the only night where there are no activities, had been booked to take my daughter to a punk rock concert. What was I thinking? It was a school night, the weather was uncooperative and it was LOUD. I sat through 4 hours of musical "bliss", feeling the beat of the music pound in my ears and chest and mentally going through all the stuff I still had to get done before Sunday. Friday night was the annual "End of Year School Bash" at a friend's house that I completely forgot about.

And so where does all this leave me? Well it's Saturday afternoon and I'm still not packed. Our plane leaves in less than 24 hours and I am still pondering if I should buy a bigger suitcase. My laundry is still drying with items that need to find their way into my luggage. And I'm sitting at the tennis courts watching my kids finish their lesson and writing this post. 

Will I get it all done? The stuff I need to do - yes. Everything else?

I. DON'T. CARE. 

I'm officially on vacation. 

See you in a couple of weeks with stories of turquoise water, ancient ruins and hopefully a steamy tale of a handsome Greek tycoon!

Taking Back Control

By nature I am a person who likes to stay busy but somehow in the past little while the busy has taken over. Life is coming at me in all directions. Usually I would be absolutely giddy with excitement and tingling all over knowing that things were happening but not so much lately. Somewhere in the middle of doing all the things I must do, I lost control and bedlam set in. Well, guess what?

I. WANT. CONTROL. BACK.

Perhaps it is time to slow down, after all, the spring in my step is becoming more of a 5lb weight. The problem is I don't want to slow down. I want to stay busy. Whether it is writing or redecorating or travelling the globe, even tackling obstacles in my day job, I thrive on momentum. It is like being on a bicycle, finally getting your stride and feeling the wind brush against your flushed cheeks and the sun kissing your skin. It is a feeling of possibilities. I love being on that metaphoric bike, pedalling up and down the hills and valleys of my life. It makes me feel alive.

Unfortunately, I was pedalling a bit to fast and one of my feet has slipped. So what to do? It is always difficult to just place your foot on the pedal and continue at the speed at which you were travelling. You have to reset. And that is what I am going to do. Lucky for me this slip of the foot has happened right before a wonderfully planned vacation. I leave for Greece in a few weeks and this is the perfect reset. In the meantime, I have become the Queen of the To Do list.

There is a household list on my fridge - wash the floor, pick up dog food, move boxes to storage, pick up wood glue and clamp, finish painting and so on. Then there is the work list - prepare budget, do mid year review, send out sales materials, pack from upcoming business trip, you get the gist? The kid list is composed of enrol kids for tennis lessons, look at summer swim lessons, buy birthday gift for upcoming friends birthdays, take the boy for a haircut. And finally there is the personal list and this is the one that most often gets pushed aside and probably is the one that is most important for that regeneration of the soul. This list includes: book a massage, get to the gym, eat breakfast and lunch (something I don't normally do, bad Audrey!), get a mani/pedi, take a bath, finish reading my book, write another chapter of my book, read blogs, write post for my blog, go out with the girls for dinner and some beverages and maybe, just maybe, go out on a date!

Why does that final list get pushed aside first? This is the list that is supposed to help keep my feet on those pedals at all times. These are the things that make me catch my breath even if it is for one smidgen of a second. All of these help me stay in control of my life by allowing me to take care of me. Yet I don't. I could sit here and say that starting tomorrow I am going to get up early and go to the gym. But I won't because I will have gone to bed late doing all the items on the first three lists. I could say that I am going to soak in a tub after the kids fall asleep but chances are I will drift off into a happy slumber sitting on the sofa before that happens. I will open my book tonight but, again, I won't read more than a page because I will fall asleep before I get to the end of that page.

Ask me how many of the other lists have items crossed off? All of them. Funny how we work.

BUT...I can cross something off my personal list today because I posted something on my blog *doeshappydance*

Talk to me! Do you make lists for everything you do? How successful are you at completing them?