YEAH, TAKING A PERSONAL DAY

So, another major milestone crossed in this life story. As of this very day, I survived and even thrived in another year where the current scenery doesn’t match up to what the old dreams were…

I don’t know if that’s good or bad anymore. I’ve weaved around enough moments to know a story may only look like it’s ended. There are so many corners we can never expect. The best things ever, turn out to be the biggest nightmares, or some of our biggest un-packaged fears are really the sweetest blessings.

If we’re lucky enough, in every year we’ll have people to hold us up while we endure and to share the biggest laughs when we’re soaring.

I am grateful beyond these pitiful words to know I have an amazing child who already takes a stand for what’s right – a sage soul in his beautiful, young mind and body. My parents – my rock, my comfort. (Happy Labour Day, Mom). My aunties, cousins & my friends, well really my sisters and brothers, are my holders and laugh with-ers. I thank them all for their love, wisdom and presence. And presents.

For circumstances that are normally unusual (hopefully), other people may stand out for us. And so it was for me again this year and for that, I am more than grateful to some special souls. I can’t reveal the private details in this missive, but they do deserve public acknowledgement. While they aren’t a part of my nearest circles, their impact was as big as any, and in some ways, pretty likely to have been bigger. So, to –

Kim, Rebekah, Rachel, Bruce, Sandy, Louise – Thank you for sharing your amazing level of knowledge and strengths that have emboldened my courage to speak out in truths. I deeply, deeply appreciate your friendship.

Ned and Beth T. – Thanks for your sheer decency. That’s my personal 5-star rating. Thank you for helping me to understand and accept what I could change or not; especially in seeing what wasn’t within my control, and would never be.

To J, N, C & G – I respect your wishes for anonymity and I thank you, most of all, for listening to me, believing me and in me, for the vindication and trusting me with your own stories along with the parts of ‘our story’. You turned unimaginable madness into dawning awareness that got me through so much. If only more people were as strong, as kick-ass fierce and generous as you in covering another woman’s back.

To the eyes in the sky – thank you for taking me into your hearts too. Thank you for playing such a critical role in righting my sight and spirit… I would never know how to repay you, but then again, I know you don’t need me to. You are serious hero material. I hope someday the people in your world get to see why they should be so proud of you.

And then, there’s you… who, without any payoff or coercion whatsoever, stop by anyway to read what’s going on in my world. Thank you, so much for your time, for your kindnesses, for your likes/comments/emails, for your own tales and your humor. You’ve added so much to my world. … … …

…<cue the music>…

…and thus she trails off singing to herself… happy birthday to me, happy birthday tooOOoo me….

RL

ICYMI: That Time I Was a Goat Herder

What a month, eh? So much padded wall-level induced activity all around, I know I feel like a bumper car in a maddening institution. Except every bounce-back is a welcome push to a new direction, destination be damned. Speaking of new directions, last year I thought I’d give that a whirl – at least in theory. I decided I would change my outlook and profession toward something more collective, so to speak. That’s right – goat herding.

So, OK, I wasn’t really a goat herder. At least not in the literal sense. It was just a little fun I had with Linkedin.  If you don’t know what Linkedin is, well apparently, neither do a lot of the people who actually use it.

How do I know that? Well, because once in a while I like to test the efficacy of certain operating procedures in my world. This time I wondered about the notifications effectiveness on Linkedin, so I made a couple of changes to my profile.  I changed my name to Shelley Miller and I ramped up my rather average marketing title to ‘Goat Herder’.  I also changed my location to Montana for good measure and then I kept that profile up for two weeks.

Goater herder MONTANA

Do you know what kind of response I got to all these changes in my life? Nothing. Nada. Not even a blip on any social media radar. Is it me? Apparently I have to really, really up my game in business social media

Why not? Apparently I can be anything I want on Linkedin anyway. I’m seriously considering ‘Fire Hula Hooping Rocket Scientist’, tagline: “We light the fire under your landing pads”!

Maybe it’s better to leave plain marketing as is and turn to Memey Vice. Let’s face it, this post has gone to the dogs anyway and what the hell, let’s stick some goats in while we’re at it.

Reason has its moments… Guess which one works for Linkedin?

Well played sharon don't underestimate a woman dogDon’t ever underestimate a sheep or goat-herding woman, dog… Just sayin’.

Hold your horses, the goats are coming…

goat kid naps

 

OK… never mind…

… and I’ll just be on my way…

Even nature becomes one with nature.  It’s a thing.

OK, OK, I’m going, I’m going..

Who knew goats could be so baa-ad ass?

Oh man, that’s cold.  … Well, excuse me… at least I goat the last word…

Have an awesome weekend, all.  See ya when I see ya.

RL

 

Killer Words 2

Mighty Pen2

The best weaponry
To slay thy enemies well
Ubiquitous BICs

RL

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/paragon/
, #powerofthewrittenword
Image craft by RL

MMIW/G… Tears of Sorrow, Frustration & Sometimes Hope

The ongoing frustrations regarding the $53 million MMIW/G national inquiry often result in the  impulse to throw up our hands in defeat. We won’t though, not ever, because we will never forget our lost; all literally coursing in our DNA. That’s the source of the strength that lifts our hands even higher for justice and equities. We also from time to time, get a glimpse that the painful work has opened another sliver of recognition that says, maybe this mountain has moved another millimeter. It doesn’t matter, where these slivers come from, this is enough to offer another breath of hope too.

The Missing & Murdered Indigenous Women/Girls (#MMIW/G) inquiry has been a dismal effort from the start. From the incredible decision to omit any police involvement, therefore no questioning of culpability already demonstrated by their history of ignoring or dismissing the concerns of family of the missing or murdered, to ignoring the several reports of direct police misconduct toward Indigenous women. Then onto the bad news of the inexplicable lack of coordination for how the inquiry would run to nearly non-existent communication with the families of the MMIW/G.

There are too many Indigenous families touched by this issue; mine included.  We have lost a cousin, 19 yr old Roberta Ferguson, missing for 28 years now without a hint of what happened to her. My mother has also inexplicably lost two good friends, also never found.

The work to get to this point has taken over 20 years. Twenty years of women bravely standing, shouting, and marching to every government service door possible to be heard. They, we, all deserve better than this. So, we raise our voices in media and in front of commissioners and to the inquiry heads, hoping that now is the time, we will matter. That now is the time we will matter enough to have systems genuinely and permanently altered to stop at least most of the behaviors and policies that leave us adrift, and for some of us, lost forever.

People ask, what can we do? Well, there are so many issues that need help, but at the least, for every issue, we can sign those petitions, we can write/email/tweet a simple note to PMs, MPs, legislators, and even the National Inquiry directly to say, we care about this and we want to see the work done. Donate to groups like Families of Sisters in Spirit, to assist in the battle for legal and media representation.

Don’t be shy, have a crack at the racist comments in every news story about the MMIW or Indigenous in general. Speak back, not to them necessarily, but to the publishers and editors who cater to whomever speaks loudest in their comments. Arm other readers with solid knowledge. Or find another way to demonstrate solidarity that helps all our hearts feel a little less isolated and unheard.

Like this group who did just that recently. A dance company called, Generation Dance Studio in Ft. MacMurray, AB. They brought their message to the public in a very moving way. They created a dance tribute to the MMIW/G. It’s very touching to see their effort to show they see us and they care.

I invite you to watch their performance added to their Facebook page linked here. Within these discouraging days, these hearts sought out ours, and it added to all the difference for another day…  Given the same ol’ recent events of the inquiry, we could use every lift we can get.

Hiy hiy,

RL

https://www.facebook.com/generationdance/videos/760718694087565/

For those unaware, a red dress represents a missing or murdered Indigenous woman.

 

Big Troubles and a Fence – Reprised

Getting bullied feels like you’re alone in the middle of a cavernous field surrounded by an electric fence charged by your fear, the callousness of bullies and the apathy of bystanders. I remember this from when I was nine years old. I’ll always remember because no one forgets their encounters with bullies, ever.

playground 1For whatever reason, in grade four I caught the eye of our school bully. His name was Shane and although we were in the same grade, he was almost a head taller than me. I suppose it’s not surprising that a bully might have sought me out; I was one of the smallest in our class. I’m sure he felt confident of my vulnerability.

Shane would look for opportunities to push me around and because he was so much bigger than me, it didn’t take much of a push from him to knock me down. He would generally follow that up with slapping me and threatening worse after school. There weren’t many options for me after school, it was either run like hell for home, try to hide behind people as they were walking, or just take the beating while trying to fend off too much damage. Teachers weren’t much involved outside of class in those days and my parents were otherwise occupied with the drama of their own lives.

One Saturday I was heading over to a friend’s a few blocks from home. I had a temporary shortcut because a house between my street and hers had been torn down and I could cut through the now open yard. The only impediment was a fence in the back that I could climb over at the alley.

I started to walk across the yard, but suddenly a shadow caught my eye. Shane stepped out from behind some building debris that I’d just walked by. His face was sheer glee at having me cornered and alone. My mind took in the entire scenario in about eleven seconds. I knew exactly what was in store.

My heart dropped as I watched him slowly stepping toward me with the promise of pure menace. Within those eleven seconds, I figured my only options to get away were to run back past him or run for the fence. As my panic escalated with his every step toward me, it felt like I couldn’t move my feet anyway. I knew I’d reached the point of no return.

He got closer and as he raised his hand, instinct took over. I closed my eyes and I ran toward him. Hard. His head being higher than mine was providence; it turned out it was the perfect height for my hands to reach his face, which I blindly pummeled with my fists. Hard and fast.

I heard a cry. I opened my eyes and saw that Shane had stepped back from me. He was holding his nose and just staring at me. Then he took his hands down and looked at them. They were covered in blood. He couldn’t see it, but so was his face as the bleeding from his nose dripped steadily down his chin. We stared at each other equally stunned.

Then he brought his hands back up to his nose and started crying. I took this as my cue to head for the fence. At the same time I started to move, so did he, but the opposite way.

My body was unbeaten that day, but the adrenaline continued to beat in my heart.  I didn’t bother running to the fence, but I’m pretty sure I scaled it like a parkour athlete.  I was safe and I would remain safe.  Shane never bothered to come near me again.

I didn’t know it at the time, but that was a life changing event.  It wasn’t just that I was able to defend myself, no matter the miracle was unplanned. It was because it was the first time I was consciously aware that I did something I had no idea I could.

Unfortunately it wasn’t the last time I would encounter bullies, but sometimes, when I do come up on the short end of the stick in those meetings, I remember that sweet, sweet time I kicked ass. Like a boss.

RL