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Life

Above and Beyond
Life

Above and Beyond

a call to action

Fight for the things that you care about, but do it in a way that will lead others to join you.    RBG

At this moment in time we are asked to go above and beyond our normal resources in order to manage multiple global challenges that simultaneously threaten our survival; Global warming, devastating political (lack of) leadership in the US, and the Covid-19 pandemic. They are a triple threat above and beyond what we have seen before. What to do?

We are asked to hold faith and hope for our future, while day by day doing our very best.

Of course, I know I’m not alone. We’re all suffering relative to our individual circumstances. I’m grateful my world turns without too much distress, yet some days I`m overwhelmed by sadness, even grief.

My heart goes out to those already suffering anxiety and depression, or who have lost a dear one. You may need to reach out. And my eternal gratitude goes out to everyone who bravely holds us together at great personal risk, from the ER staff to the grocery store clerk.

We are asked to stay present and do what we can. The only way to envision a future is to let go and not lose hope.

If you are American and able to vote, DO IT!  Rise up and vote for change.  Blind fealty to the current Fascist will only bring more of the same mind bending destruction. I’ m not American, but have family and friends in various states trying to navigate life safely under current leadership. It’s frightening on the ground.

As a citizen of the world, I’m stepping up to be even more proactive with my efforts towards the existential crisis of our times: the climate crisis. Can I find more ways to reduce waste and lower consumerism? If I park my car and walk when I can, it will also benefit my health and I vow to pay more attention to what can be recycled and reused. There are exciting advances being made around the globe so I try to keep informed and find consolation knowing gifted and dedicated minds are on the job.

But the most imminent threat is the pandemic. Individually most of us follow accredited health guidelines, because it’s not a question of personal rights to live without restrictions. If we want to survive and see the end of Covid, there are certain things we must do whether we like it or not.

Unfortunately there are young souls amongst us who just don’t get it, and for them I pray for a shift in consciousness. By the way, a young soul can be of any age, 5 or 95.

It’s not brave to behave recklessly. It’s delusional. Maybe these people have not been directly affected, or believe the US president when he says it’s no big deal. There’s such ignorance in acting this unconsciously and displays an entitlement that goes beyond humanity.

After more than six months, we know more about the virus itself and how to treat it. But Covid exhaustion has become real.  Some people are tired down into their bones by trying to manage all aspects of their lives. For young families with children to care for, it’s heartbreaking to realize their children are so vulnerable, all the while trying to keep them happy and their education on track. People are trying to work, or worse, have lost jobs and wonder where the next meal will come from. The constant question “Am I doing everything right?” becomes a haunting companion and can easily lead to burnout.

Most of us are doing our best and it has to be enough. Yet there is a level of risk we must accept to just go about living. We wear the mask, wash our hands, and social distance. Invitations to gather with friends indoors are declined even though it’s so hard to say no. This will be even more important as winter closes in.

For the elderly in care homes, lockdowns turn their small rooms into prison cells. To say they are incarcerated is not an exaggeration.  My 90 year-old mom in assisted living knows just what that means. She has already endured six weeks of solitary with four more weeks added because of another case yesterday. Drastic measures? Not at all, but so disheartening.

The Health Authority responds with eyeball flattening speed to control each event. Confined to quarters, residents take all meals alone in their suites, some go without baths and hair washing, there are no exercise classes, and no chatting with friends in the hallway. They are truly alone. The mail person is even denied entry into the building. Since the beginning of Covid visitors have been limited or denied entry. That’s a long time to go without a hug and kiss.

Worse, try to imagine coping with the daily fear of infection, as well the possibility of dying alone.

Then imagine there is no end in sight.

But some people feel invincible, or believe they’re so special they don’t need to use precautions. It is after all uncomfortable to wear a mask, and annoying to have activities restricted. Maybe they think if they cannot contract Covid they wouldn’t be a threat to anyone else. Or maybe indulging in fun is more important than being a responsible adult.  

It’s this small-minded and selfish behavior that has resulted in the rapid increase of Covid cases all over North America, as well as hundreds of thousands of unnecessary deaths. Now that we know what we can do, what will it take to get through to them? I just don’t get it.

The media keeps us up on latest curves and trends. I read recently a shocking statistic that 40% of the population is asymptomatic. If you know this, wearing a mask should be a no-brainer.

I feel compelled to lift this anger and frustration off my heart onto these pages to express how helpless I feel. To those who wholeheartedly accept the necessary sacrifices and who do so without complaint, there is enormous gratitude.  My hope is that by sharing these words, some will be inspired to right action and others feel proud they are part of a great healing.

I ask myself what more I can do to go above and beyond, to help ease some suffering, to fully cooperate and be part of the solution. Seemingly small efforts like a phone call, count big time.

This is my call to action.

What we do, or do not do, matters now more than ever. Past all of this, we’ll once again be able to raise our hands to embrace this magnificent world for which we are the hapless custodians; to once again breathe freely on our streets.

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Be well friends and thank you for stopping by. If you would like to leave a comment, click on the thought bubble at the end of the post, then scroll down past comments already submitted.

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CHEF JAM ~ and the culinary  caper
FamilyLifeParents

CHEF JAM ~ and the culinary caper

Dinner prep was underway in the Lane’s kitchen. “Jamma, is this how chefs peel carrots?” Molly’s earnest desire to do it right weighed heavily in her question.

Jamma glanced over at her four year old granddaughter, who was running her peeler enthusiastically back and forth on the same spot,  right down to the core, and offered some guidance.

“There. You are doing it perfectly!” she replied, and was rewarded with a brilliant smile.

Finished with the carrots, Molly grabbed the parsnips. Since they looked like white carrots she knew what to do and set about peeling them with the surety of an experienced line cook. Her little sister Greta was busy placing cut up pieces of vegetable carefully on a baking sheet.

“What’s next Chef Jam?”

For about two years Molly had been in training as her Jamma’s sous- chef. She loved her role and was always excited to learn something new. Her confidence was growing with each new job and it showed. Jamma’s heart fairly boomed out of her chest when she heard Molly call out Chef Jam. It didn’t get any better than that!

“Our next task is to cut up a whole chicken.”

With that, Molly’s lips formed a perfect circle and her eyebrows shot up.

Jamma remembered the last time Molly laid eyes on a raw chicken she was afraid to touch it. Now a year older she didn’t even cringe. She ran her hand slowly and thoughtfully down the cool, rubbery carcass as if reading braille, then triumphantly declared,

 “That’s not as creepy as it looks!”

Chef Jam’s first concern was always safety, and she realized since they were about to cut up a chicken, it was time to talk about it. She knew Molly would be eager to learn what it meant.

“Food safety means always being clean when you’re preparing food so nobody gets sick when they eat it. You must wash your hands before you start and in between each preparation and the work station must also be kept clean. This keeps the germs and bacteria away.”

It made perfect sense to Molly, who, along with her sister, and without further prompting, dashed to the bathroom to scrub up. They were back just in time to see Jamma pull out a fresh cutting board and clean knife.

So to the chicken. Jamma showed the girls how to find the joint for the easiest cut, and helped Molly place the blade so she would understand what it felt like to find the soft spot.

Next Molly arranged the chicken pieces on a baking sheet, and was ready to add some flavor. She remembered what seasoning was from a previous lesson and in a blink dipped her hand in the salt bowl and grabbed as much as her little fist could hold, then with a flourish, doused the entire dish.

Now it was time for Jamma’s eyebrows to shoot up, and there followed a lesson on how much salt is actually needed for food to taste good. Molly took it all in, without taking offence, and they set about rinsing off as much as they could. The pepper grinder was much easier to manage.

“Chef Jam, I think we need to add some herbs.”

With that Molly skipped out the kitchen door and returned with some fresh thyme and rosemary. Jamma handed her a small knife and it wasn’t long before the herbs were chopped and the chicken ready for the oven. Then turning to the girls, Jamma said,

“Perfect!  Now we have an hour to play before dinner is ready”.

Sure enough the chicken was still too salty and barely edible. With the first bite they looked at each other’s scrunched up faces and burst out laughing. Even peeling the skin off was only a slight improvement, but at least they had some delicious roasted veggies to fill up their tummies.

Molly and Greta were both pooped after such an action packed day and eager to relax into a few stories before bed.

And Chef Jam? She was pooped as well, but the evening was such a pleasure she went to bed right after the girls, completely delighted. As she laid waiting for her eyes to slam shut, an alarming thought creeped out.

What was she thinking when she called their work perfect?!!

She certainly wasn’t expecting perfection, and she didn’t want the girls to think that was the goal either. The last thing they needed was to think they weren’t good enough if their work wasn’t perfect. What they needed was encouragement, guidance, and to be inspired to always do their best. And the whole experience should be fun not stressful. Simple as that.

Jamma wanted to be a good example for the girls, so laid there in the dark thinking about what she might want to say instead. She decided to replace perfect with wonderful, and vowed to start using it the very next morning. With a big exhale, she felt the powerful influence a single word could have, especially on precious little minds. Thank goodness she was paying attention to her thoughts.

Time spent with her girls was a chance for Jamma to mingle with their bright spirits; to play, to create, to laugh, and to make memories.  Even in the slip-ups there was fun to be had, and today was a fine example. 

Later that evening when Mom and Dad came back from their date night, Jamma was already fast asleep, pleased for what she had shared and learned, dreaming of the next culinary caper.

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Thanks for checking in. I recommend finding some young people to play with and see what they can teach you! The joy is indescribable.

Here’s a recipe for granola bars that are easy for kids to make, with thanks to www.allrecipes.com

I would love to hear from you. Just scroll to the bottom to leave a comment or share your own stories.

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MEET SHEA

MEET SHEA

Author
If I was going to describe myself in one word, I would say creative. I love to write poetry and stories, garden, bead, draw, and study spiritual philosophy. If I keep these in my life, my inner artist and the seeker in me just hum. Only my kids and grandkids fill my heart more, and for that, there are really no words.

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