Get your Mango out of my Green Tea Ice Cream

This afternoon I'm in a really good mood. I've passed the first stage of a telephone interview with an employer I'm actually excited about. So, once that's over I decide to go to Granville Island. I walk to the little ferry, get on it, explore Opus and just wander around.

Afterwards I treat myself to a green tea ice cream cone and I'm sitting in the main courtyard, pretty much in bliss,grateful to be enjoying my ice cream and the sunshine. Suddenly, out of nowhere this guy sits down so close to me that I literally have to grab my bag so he doesn't sit on it.

I look at him. It annoys me that he has the entire courtyard and he squeezes in beside me. But, whatever.

So, I'm licking my ice cream. I'm feeling happy. He takes out a mango and starts cutting it in half. Then he looks at me and starts proclaiming something about his mango; something about it being the perfect thing to eat. It's straight from nature. It's fresh and tropical and (full of pesticides) I think but don't say. Are you trying to make me feel guilty I say in a teasing kind of way (knowing that he doesn't really have a hope in hell of doing that because I don't care).

He's a walking stereotype of the earnest, vegan zealot. You can picture him I'm sure. Can't you almost get a whiff of hemp just because he's sitting that close. It's like you wonder if maybe his entire wardrobe, including his shoes, aren't made out of cork or maybe the treads of recalled, recycled Firestone tires. He's clear eyed. He's thin. The whites of his eyes are really white. He's very healthy. If he was a dog, his nose would be cold and wet. He has an accent - German perhaps - and he's proselytizing, as passionately as a Jehovah Witness, except his message is nutrition. Whatever.

At this point I'm wondering what exactly the message is actually and why he feels the need, like a homing device, to have attached himself to me as the recipient. Speak to the hand I think - the sweet, gooey, ice-cream drenched green tea cholesterol laden hand!

"I'm a non mainstream health researcher," he says, "and I have had mentors who have helped me know the lies that exist about nutrition. He said it just like that. Is he an android I wonder. I just stare at him. I remind myself to try and be nice. To just listen. To be curious. To just see where he's going with this.

Then he says, Do you know any other species that feels the need to warm its food before consuming it? I think about that for a second and suddenly out of nowhere, much to my delight, the image of a little Canadian Beaver waddling out of the pond, over towards the microwave with a box of Michelina in its claws enters my mind. (Do Beavers have claws?)

"Well, maybe that's because no other species has the ability to warm it's food up," I say. "They don't own ovens." Maybe that's not the best example of your point I say. It's a perfectly fine example he says. Warming food destroys the food's make-up, alters it's genetic make-up," he says. Alright. I've heard that before. No big epiphany happening for me in that teeny little insight. You're going to have to bring out the wheatgrass-tofu shake and do better than that I think.

"Have you seen what the sad American diet does to people when they eat Kentucky Fried Chicken, or macaroni and cheese?" he asks. I take a quick glance down at my stomach. "That's not even really food," he says.

At this point I literally look up. I look up at the sky. I'm wondering if someone from my past has sent this person to me. Did he just drop out of the sky and land beside me on the bench. Is that why he's so close to me? I sometimes wonder if there are those amongst us who aren't actually human. They're something else. Aliens with messages. Nutritional experts from another planet. My guardian angel in disguise.

It's not the first time I've met some nice young man who socially must have got the last first class ticket on the Clueless train. You just want to give him a lesson. You want to say, look, if you ever want to get laid, let me give you some advice about women because even though I'm old enough to be your mother, I'm guessing your approach needs some work. Can you say Boor? Can you say, ask me if I care what your raison d'etre is?

I listened to him a little while longer. I was really, really, honestly, trying to be patient. Then, he took out the second mango. That's when I decided okay. Enough! One mango worth of unwanted nutritional advice is bearable. Two is just painful.

"Well, I'm going now," I say, practically ripping my bag out from under his butt cheek. "Actually, I was just wanting to enjoy the sunshine. I didn't really feel like a lecture today." I walk away and he yells after me, "But, you're not being honest!"

Honest? I'm not being honest? I didn't even WANT to speak. I had no desire to interact. And besides, I was there first dammit!

Can you say freak magnet? C'est moi!

Sincere Giving and Longevity

What did the Zen Buddhist say to the hot dog vendor?
Make me one with everything!:-) (courtesy of Stephen Post, PhD at his talk on May 2nd in Vancouver)


Do you know what the most popular course at Harvard University is? According to Stephen Post, Ph.D, it's the course on Happiness. That could be because 25% of students self-report depression and 16% have actually been diagnosed as clinically depressed. That percentage, according to Post, is fairly representative of undergrads in general throughout North America.

It used to be that happiness was considered a frivolous pursuit. But that might also be because in 1936 people were a lot happier than they are now even though they had less, materialistically.

Now, insurance claims and short term and long term disability related to depression is sky rocketing. Depression in the workplace/society has become a focus of insurance companies because of depression's impact on dollars at a corporate level. (It's not so much about individual suffering but about corporate suffering. And, that's why, it has become a focus. Whatever it takes I suppose).

Enter Professor Post. His book is titled, Why Good Things Happen to Good People. How to live a longer, healthier, happier life by the simple act of giving.With contributions from the Templeton Foundation, Dr. Post has created the Institute for Research on Unlimited Love.

Now, as he pointed out, it's not that bad things don't happen to good people but science is discovering that it's good to be good to other people and to oneself. It's good for the heart. It's good for longevity. It's good for your mental state of well being. In fact, those people who take the focus off themselves, who feel gratitude, who can take pleasure in simple things - nature, another, regardless of their life circumstances, are genuinely more happy to a significant degree than those who don't, can't.

It has been scientifically proven that sincere giving (of self, tithing, being compassionate)with "sincere" being the operative word actually leads to physiological changes that can prolong your life. One study found that older adults (over the age of 65)who participated in informal giving, merely by offering acts of kindness and assistance to those who may need more assistance than they themselves need, had a 44% reduction in mortality.

Another study found that minor amounts of volunteering each week (as little as 2 hours per week) in which acts of compassion, simple acts of loving kindness were exchanged from one person to another resulted in a feeling of effervesence and peace.

Receiving is also part of giving. You must learn how to receive well, he says because in doing so you are reinforcing a positive feeling towards the giver thereby reinforcing the benefits of giving and promoting that way of being out into the universe.

So, the next time someone wants to give you something, receive it with gratitude and grace because it's not about you. It's about them. And, if you've ever given something to someone who doesn't receive well, you know how your heart feels. The energy is depleted in some way.

I noticed reference to Dr. Post's talk just this morning. I had no plans and it had been a day of silence, frustratingly so. In spite of everything I have to offer an employer, I am in a place where I have not been able to find a new place of employment. Yes, I am being discriminating, it has to be right for me as well, and so far it's not happening:Yet!

In fact, it has gotten to a point where I'm looking around my apartment for signs that there is a problem with the Feng Shui. I know, because I have experienced difficult circumstances before - financially, emotionally, mentally - and what I learned from those is that this too shall pass. In fact, having experienced those is what has allowed me to handle this bout of not working quite well I believe.

So, I'm at the talk and at the end, there are some gifts. Dr. Post is standing up there with about 5 boxes to be given away. He gives away the first to someone whose birthday is in May. May 1. And, then he says, let's go with February. I'm going to give this to someone whose birthday is in February. Let's go with February 15th he says. Now, that's MY birthday. I jump up,he gives me the box and I thank him for my present and the talk ends.

I am feeling so happy, so lucky, so ecstatic about receiving this gift. The box is wrapped in such a way that I can't open it there so I really don't know what's inside of it.

And, when I get home, I open the box and the gift is wrapped in orange tissue paper and tied with jute. I rip open the paper, I have a huge smile, I'm genuinely excited and grateful. Inside, there's not just one book but two books AND a chocolate bar. At that point in time, I couldn't have been more happy. I'm not sure that winning the lottery would have made me more happy than in that moment last night (well, maybe a little).

And, the reason I was happy wasn't because of the books - the two books - one written by Dr. Post and the other entitled, The Power of Giving. I was happy because I felt that receiving that gift, last night, was a much bigger acknowledgement of the universe showing me that my instincts are on target. I believed I was going to receive one of those gifts. I knew it, in my heart, the moment I saw the gifts at the beginning of the evening. I don't know how I knew it. I believed it.

And, I believe receiving it confirmed for me that my instincts are working well. I believe that everything will be fine. I believe that going inside and believing the knowingness that is in your heart, even when externally things are seemingly falling apart, will allow that feeling to take you to a place you need to be. And, it has its own agenda. It's timeline is not connected to the timelines of social convention. It does not know about "the rent".

And, I feel that the tests I have had in life in my past have all been exercises in believing, in cultivating faith and being aware that what is taking place on an invisible level, is an important step in a spiritual journey where you must believe you are always in the "right" place for you regardless of what is happening on the physical plane.

Some might call it magical thinking. Many more people call it "faith".

The Ferry Caper

Any day my friend Lisa and I spend together is sure to result in at least one moment of uncontrollable, let me wipe my eyes, laughter. Today was no exception. The thing is, it's never about anything really all that funny. You know what I mean? We can just amuse ourselves. We feed off each other.

Ms. Wolfe decided that it was a Sunshine Coast kind of day. So, that's where we headed.

We caught the 9:30 ferry. Now. All it can take is just one word to spark a monologue from either of us that meanders from one topic to the next so far from the first word that set us off in the first place that we need each other to remind us where it all began. That's why we barely noticed that we weren't moving. We were sitting on the car deck, in the car, waiting to get off, and waiting, and waiting.

Apparently there was a problem. They couldn't get the ramp up. Finally, the ferry backed up and began circling. We were poppin' wheelies on the water. When the captain of a sea going vessel uses these words: "Let's keep our fingers crossed" in a sentence over the loud speaker, you know things aren't going quite as well as they could be. We spent 2 hours on the ferry on what is a 40-minute crossing.

We talked to a guy. He was coming back from some place in Alberta called Grand Cache. He had to decide whether he was going to take a job in a coal mine and he only had a few days to decide. He was worried about his cat. His cat would be starving if he didn't soon get off the ferry. It was an "electrical problem". Guys. Men's men. Men in trucks were all conferencing. They were appalled (my word, not there's) and shocked (my word not there's) that they - BC Ferries - didn't have a backup generator for this kind of thing. It's not as if they just started this business last year Lise astutely chimed in.

"What if the ferry began taking on water?" asked the guy with the starving cat. What then? We'd be stuck on the ferry and we'd have to jump even though it was almost right at the dock. "I never thought of that" I said. But that got me thinking, (always a dangerous thing) and I said, "What if there's a fire on the ferry and they can't get it up? The ramp that is! We could all die on a ferry right at the ramp."

Why is it that as soon as you can't get somewhere, like off a ferry, you can't stop wanting to know exactly what's going on even though it really doesn't matter. All that matters is you ain't going nowhere. Now in fact, Lise and I really didn't care because we were just hangin' out. Our only certain destination was Molly's Reach for lunch. You know, Molly's Reach of the Beachcomber's fame. You have to be Canadian eh to get that reference.

After a little reminiscing, perusing the old photos of Bruno and the gang, we got in touch with my friends Anne and Bob. They were home. So, we headed up just past Sechelt to where the Wakefield Inn used to be. Our visit included good china, tea, lemon and ginger loaves and a walk (they're so damned civilized!)

Then, we got back in the car, we headed back towards Roberts Creek. We come across this beautiful little woodworking shop called Inside Passage that doubles as a full-blown woodworking school. Note to self: Take a woodworking course! Guys are everywhere. We were greeted by one of the students, a middle-aged guy, who was excessively friendly and we got the full on tour. We got to see all the pieces he's made. What he's working on now. We got to see the other guys sweeping and cleaning up. We got to touch the wood and hear names of wood we'd never heard. Rhymes with Zebra. We got to run our finger along the smooth surfaces of beautiful little jewellery boxes with secret chambers. We got to fantasize about the kind of men who could actually make furniture. Who doesn't love wood? Wood is sexy!

Then, with time to kill, we drove back to Gibsons and wandered down the dock, peering into Sa Boothroyd's gallery (which was closed) and admiring all the boats in the harbour, especially the boat with all the plants on its roof.



It was a beautiful, relaxing, sunny gorgeous day and we had fun! And, bonus, we got off the ferry without incident on the way back.

All's well that end's well.