Life Of Lois

Saturday, November 21, 2015

HaiKube games

S-girls sentences

Violet looks sadly into water.

Life shines with grand, sweet promises.

Watching water with gentle, sweet thoughts.

For life looks clear not curvy.

We are heroes that quickly light life in all.

We many thugs are desperate for candy.

I finally found the villain’s body.

I finally met a time doctor. (Doctor Who)

Those fantasies light her dead brain.

Lois's sentences

We live in an unparalleled universe with livid, hot emotions.

We radicals with lofty, smooth ideals are frequently grounded by age.

We hellbent doctors are heavy with regret.

No heart returns to the alternate love; save in the last days.

If glancing thunder should travel inside her mind, sanity would be restored.

Never travel with the last bottle for you'll surely come to a bad end.

Your through with love, pluck the shelter from your heart and let devastation rule.

If next my ritual charm should fail, the wheel will cease to turn.

One hellbent for fertile love will sow a barren garden.

Parallel lots hoped for a logical conclusion to hate.

Balance any shady hope as if it was the weight of water.

She embraced the simple melodic hand of fortune.

Friday, November 13, 2015

Confession-- a short story

I killed a man.

I was heading south of the city on a moonless night. The asphalt stretched in a straight line beyond the reach of the headlights and the stars were sending secret messages to their neighbours.

Two hours out and I had encountered only a handful of motorist. It was a weekday, after midnight. I had delivered my cargo to the fish market in Bangkok. I don't like the city; no sky, no air, no sea. I turned around for the trip home; driving through to daylight and the call to prayer from my father's minaret.

I was caught in several police road blocks coming into the city. I rolled down my window and held out the customary bribe. I held the money in my hand, tightly folded so they could not determine the denomination of the bill until I had secured my passage. I keep a wallet full of small bills for such occasions.

The truck was overloaded; it always is on these runs. The back bumper threatening to hit the pavement at every dip in the road.

The shrimp were quickly unloaded; heading to tables around the world. I got my money, some coffee and noodles from a street vendor. They weren't halal but I was hungry and no one but God and I would know.

I slid behind the wheel, my seat readily complying to my body; its familiar companion.

Clear, dark, lonely nights-- they're the best for driving. I make good time. The road is magic under these four wheels; it disappears before the universe registers my presence.

The radio is on but there is not much I want to hear so I tune into silence. The night grows deeper and I don't mind. Nights are meant to be like that-- lonely.

The headlights of the truck reach out and caress a rider. The motorcycle has no lights, and the rider no helmet. There is a hitch in the stride of the truck and a brief shudder reverberates through the steering wheel. The bike and rider are gone and the night flows through me.

I roll down the window and drink the humidity, subconsciously listening for an animal's howl. I hear nothing. There's nothing now but I know there was something, someone -- and I know what I have done.

I am travelling 120 miles an hour on a straight, dark highway with flooded rice fields banking the margins. There is no surviving this. No need to turn back.

Doubt claws at me as the miles pass. I have a clear picture of a stunned bird flapping helplessly in the middle of quiet city street one fall afternoon. That was a different life. Another life that I failed to save. I watched the bird from the safety of the sidewalk. It was starting to rain; a cold rain in a northern city very far from this place.

I thought about rescuing the bird from its certain death but I didn't know what to do with that life. It would be a burden, a question, an inconvenience. I watched as a car turned onto the street and killed the bird. I could have at least done that-- I know about the killing of things.

But now I can't turn back. I could search the highway all night and never find the scene of the crime. It's a long, dark road reflecting back on itself mile after mile.

The rider, like the bird before, has died or will die soon. I killed them both. This is my confession.

Sunday, October 11, 2015

Empowerment

A few weeks ago, during a beautiful fall day on campus, I was reminded of the fear inherent in being a woman. I was walking back to school from the new Chocolaterie with my 10-year-old daughter at my side. A young man crossed the street with us and started a conversation. He appeared to be a university student; he had the prerequisite back pack, wore black framed glasses and was walking towards the campus as were we.

He started to talk about his recent acupuncture appointment and the remarkable feeling of wellness he was now experiencing. The conversation moved on to areas of study. When I asked him what he was studying he gave a vague and slightly nonsensical answer which immediately tweaked my bull shit radar.

I reassessed the situation and thought about how he would see me; a small woman, single mother, with child in tow. I was a good target and I knew it.

I have read a lot of forensic reports; have studied forensic anthropology and have had an interest in forensic psychology. A university campus is a rich hunting ground for predators and I thought I might have encountered one.

I started to increase the distance between the man and myself. And then he grabbed the top strap of my backpack and tugged me towards him. The backpack was full and I momentarily lost my balance. Once I regained my equilibrium I quickly altered my route in opposition to his, all the while outraged at what he had just done but fearful to confront him about his inappropriate actions. A confrontation could escalate the situation if he was truly a threat. If he wasn't, if he was just oblivious to how he had violated my space, a confrontation might be 'a teachable moment'. But with my daughter by my side, I could not risk any possible negative outcomes.

My daughter and I headed off towards my car where I sat for a few moments to regroup. I was upset by what had happened, mostly because my daughter was with me. I thought about what I could have done better-- not taken part in the conversation in the first place? I don't like that option. I don't want to live in fear of every friendly man that I meet. Sometimes people are just friendly. But as a woman it can be hard to tell what will start as friendly and end as scary.

This may seem like a small incident and maybe nothing at all to some people. But as women we face these little incidents, moments when we are reminded that our bodies may be taken, that we may not be able to protect those that we love, that we may face unwanted attention, at any time and in any place.

I would like to say that I am strong but physically I am a small woman and there is nothing that will ever change that. After a similar instance in my twenties, I spent a few years in the gym, working to overcome that physical reality. But no matter how much I could bench press or how many bicep curls I could do in a row-- my strength and stamina would never match most men I would encounter in my life.

It is an uncomfortable feeling; this powerlessness.

Women live with the possibility of violence every day. It isn't something that I think about on a daily basis but it is something that simmers under the surface.

I hate that I have to live with this. I hate that my daughters will have to live with this. I hate that no matter what consciousness raising efforts we have promoted in recent decades; things have not changed.

Respect my body's autonomy. Give me some space.

Saturday, June 6, 2015

How very dull

Last night I walked with you,
through the mirror of imagination.
A second self that arrived fully formed,
not stunted and disfigured.
You never knew pain, hardship, or loss.
Nothing caused you discomfort.
How very dull you were.

I always come home

I don't think about it much. Usually on birthdays I am amazed by yet another unexpected year. When I turned 40 both my father and I were surprised I had lived this long. I wasn't supposed to-- medically speaking.

Recently a few things have made me think about this thing, this life I precariously lead on the brink of medical calamity. I just read an article about a mom with Cystic Fibrous. The title of the piece was What It's Like to Be a Mom When You Have an Incurable Disease. I don't have an incurable disease but I do have an incurable condition and it can be life threatening at worst and life disrupting at best.

I have lived with it all my life so typically I don't think too much about it-- dealing with my medical difficulties and waiting for a twitch that may or may not send me to the emergency room is something I am used to. And I really don't think about it as a problem, until a flare up. Then I can feel mightily depressed because nothing I do can make this better; make it go away. And it is also something that people cannot easily understand. I do not have a disease; I have a birth defect – it was fixed to the degree that I could survive but not to the degree that it would not seriously impact my life.

I have rarely given in to the idea that this precarious medical situation should affect how I live my life. In only one occasion that I can think of did it alter my path; when I thought of joining the Canadian military and realized with my food restrictions and inevitable hospitalizations-- I would not be a desirable recruit.

In lieu of a life of excitement in the Canadian Forces I opted for life elsewhere and moved to SouthEast Asia where I knew no one and nothing about the health care system. I was fortunate and lucked into a great North American trained abdominal surgeon at a little known hospital in my third year overseas. But that was after several bad experiences at hospitals where I was made to go through rigorous and unnecessary test to diagnose what I knew was wrong but which they had never before seen. Rarely do I ever find a doc who looks at my scar and can identify its origin as the birth defect known as an omphalocele.

Generally I just keep on keeping on and don't think too much about the implications of having a chronic, occasionally life threatening, condition. But as I said a few things recently gave me pause. One was the article that I just read and the second was the question almost voiced by a recent acquaintance of mine. When I was describing my medical situation to him he started to ask if I was not worried about my children and if...and then the question fell off. But I knew what he was going to say. Wasn't I worried that this thing might kill me before my kids grew up?

In truth, I never thought about it. Firstly, because I never thought I would be able to sustain a pregnancy let alone have two kids. Secondly, life has taught me that it is impermanent no matter your current state of health. If everyone worried about dying and leaving their kids behind-- no one would ever have children.

I have taken reasonable measures; wrote a will. Informed cited guardians of their inclusion in that will. Talked to my kids about what I wanted done with my body when I die; a discussion I had with them recently when an opportune moment arose and I was not in the least bit sick. Life insurance is a reasonable step; but they won't insure me for my condition so it seems like a futile measure.

Death is the end of everyones story; I have never assumed that mine would be written by my medical condition. I live with it, it is not my life.

Once in my early university years I had to write my own obituary for a class project. In it I gave cause of death as a fall from a mountain side while out scouting for archaeological sites in the Andes. It never even occurred to me that anything other than adventure would end my days. It still doesn't.

Occasionally I do worry about my health and how my time in hospital affects my kids. Mainly I just hope they don't get too scared when I am sick. I tell them when they are upset about a recent stay in hospital -- I always come home.

Tuesday, May 26, 2015

Universal kitchen

The clock on the wall,
keeps time for another planet.
Fast in the summer, slow in the winter,
under the influence of a different star.
I lack the essential astrological knowledge,
to determine its provenance.
But one day,
I'll step over the threshold for a glass of milk,
and find an unfamiliar universe.

That is an oldie but a goodie-- going through some old files today. Written on March 10/2006

Sunday, March 15, 2015

Proust Questionaire

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery? Unrequited love

Where would you like to live? The sea, the sea

What is your idea of earthly happiness? Being with friends when I want to be and being alone when I want to be

To what faults do you feel most indulgent? Despair

Who are your favorite heroes of fiction? Ada-- Poisonwood Bible

Who are your favorite characters in history? Lucy-Australopithecus afarensis

Who are your favorite heroes in real life? Terry Fox

Your favorite painter? Frida Kahlo

Your favorite musician? Leonard Cohen

The quality you most admire in a man? Trustworthiness

The quality you most admire in a woman? Strength

Your favorite virtue? Creativity

Your favorite occupation? Writing

Who would you have liked to be? Iris Murdoch

Your most marked characteristic? Driven

What do you most value in your friends? Availability

What is your principle defect? Judgement

What to your mind would be the greatest of misfortunes? To live in pain

What would you like to be? A writer

What is your favorite color? The greens of the forest

What is your favorite flower? Gladiolas

What is your favorite bird? Kestrel

Who are your favorite prose writers? Iris Murdoch, Barbara Kingsolver, Tolstoy

Who are your favorite poets? Robert Service, ee cummings, Leonard Cohen, George Elliot Clarke

Major error here-- forgot to include Dorothy Parker--Probably my most favourite poet.

Who are your heroes in real life? Terry Fox, my grandmother Dort

Who are your favorite heroes of history? People who were breaking boundaries -- Gertrude Bell, Albert Einstein, Sally Ride

What are your favorite names? Suki, Nate, Milton

What is it you most dislike? Lying, ownership

What historical figures do you most despise? The usual – Hitler, Mussolini, Suharto-- dictators in general

What event in military history do you most admire? Normandy—the courage of the soldiers.

What natural gift would you most like to possess? Forgiveness

How would you like to die? In peace with my children and friends around me.

What is your present state of mind? Busy

What is your motto? Look where you are going not where you have been.

Friends: I am interested in your thoughts-- please answer the questionnaire and post below.