I'm completely hooked on this song. Musically, lyrically, videoically... it's sheer brilliance. There are 3 videos that I know of so far, and they're each phenomenal in their own way.
Eye-popping, jaw-dropping, perfectly timed to the music Rube Goldberg machine version video
Marching band version video (yes, marching band version)
A Cappella rehearsal for the Conan show - gives me goosebumps each time I watch
I'm knocked out by the simple, familiar, inspirational message. And I'm floored by the idea of a song called This Too Shall Pass by a band called OK Go.
Give it a listen. Give it a watch. Go outside for a walk in the sunshine and give it a think.
Live it.
PS: they also have a song called Get Over It. Great gosh on a saltine cracker, they're gonna put me out of a job as a life coach!
Lyrics:
You know you can't keep lettin' it get you down
And you can't keep draggin' that dead weight around.
If there ain't all that much to lug around,
Better run like hell when you hit the ground.
When the morning comes.
When the morning comes.
You can't stop these kids from dancin'.
Why would you want to?
Especially when you're already gettin' yours.
'Cause if your mind don't move and your knees don't bend,
well don't go blamin' the kids again.
When the morning comes.
When the morning comes.
When the morning comes.
When the morning comes.
When the morning comes.
When the morning comes.
Let it go, this too shall pass.
Let it go, this too shall pass.
Let it go, this too shall pass.
(You know you can't keep lettin' it get you down. No, you can't keep lettin' it get you down.)
Let it go, this too shall pass.
(You know you can't keep lettin' it get you down. No, you can't keep lettin' it get you down.)
Hey!
Let it go, this too shall pass.
(You know you can't keep lettin' it get you down. No, you can't keep lettin' it get you down.)
When the morning comes.
(You can't keep lettin' it get you down. You can't keep lettin' it get you down.)
When the morning comes.
(You can't keep lettin' it get you down. No, you can't keep lettin' it get you down.)
When the morning comes.
(You can't keep lettin' it get you down. You can't keep lettin' it get you down.)
When the morning comes.
(You can't keep lettin' it get you down. No, you can't keep lettin' it get you down.)
When the morning come.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Monday, March 1, 2010
uh... little help?
Why is it so hard to ask for help sometimes? In my work, I constantly remind my clients that there is absolutely no shame in asking for help. I truly believe that. Asking for help is a completely valid, noble, and remarkably intelligent thing to do. As individuals we are not meant to possess the skills, knowledge and creativity to accomplish everything singlehandedly. How could we? It would take a lifetime just to learn everything we'd need to learn and there would be no time left for actually doing things.
And so I hear myself say often: ask. If you don't get what you need, ask somewhere else - but keep asking. And be proud!
Yeah. Then it comes to me needing to ask for help. Last night I asked for some financial advice and, it seems, some financial assistance as well. It was unbelievably hard. Beforehand, I would never have said that I was nervous or anxious about it. But once I started talking, I felt my cheeks turn hot, tears came into my eyes, and I desperately wanted to say "uh... never mind" and bolt out of the room. The overwhelming emotion attached to it was shocking, and I could never have predicted it. As I'm writing this, twenty-four hours later, the same feelings are coming back... I even have tears in my eyes.
So what was that all about?
Insecurity? Almost certainly. (Isn't everything?)
Frustration? Yup, that too. I was looking for input on a situation for which I simply could not find the criteria to make my own decision - and I had been trying for some time.
Pride? Probably. Especially given that I am 37 years old and was asking Mom and Dad for help... again. Which, intellectually, I know is absolutely and perfectly fine; and we are a very close and pretty darn functional family so there was no drama or anything. But hey, dynamics happen.
Fear? You bet. This was about money which, as I'm sure you've read in the papers, is pretty damned important stuff in this life.
On top of that all, I was very very tired and, well, every one of my emotions tends to come out of my eyeballs anyway. As my great-grandmother used to say, "this family has its kidneys too close to its eyes."
So why do I still advocate for asking for help when it can do this mindjob on me, myself?
In the end, I got what I needed. I didn't get a precise answer like I was hoping for, but we did come up with ideas for where I could get more and better information to get me closer to my answer. I got support - emotional and financial. I got to learn a bit more about me, and a good reminder of how difficult it can be to ask for help. Heck, I even got dinner.
While sometimes it doesn't pay off quite as well as my effort did last night, the other thing is that folks around you won't know you need help unless you ask. Put the shoe on the other foot - if someone asked you for help and you could lend a hand reasonably, wouldn't you? Would you think less of that person? No. You probably wouldn't. And that's what they would do for you too.
Need help?
Ask.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
the me-ness of my business
I had the good fortune of having a group of wonderful, smart women answer my call for help the other day. They gave me feedback and info on branding and marketing my business, in exchange for brunch.
During that amazing meeting, I was reminded that in a sole proprietorship - especially in my line of work, my brand is ME. I was further reminded of this great book I bought some time ago and intend to read again this month.
If you're in business for yourself, it's a very useful book. The thing is, it's a very useful book for everyone, because even if you're not "in business" for yourself, you are still your own brand.
Something to think about.
During that amazing meeting, I was reminded that in a sole proprietorship - especially in my line of work, my brand is ME. I was further reminded of this great book I bought some time ago and intend to read again this month.
If you're in business for yourself, it's a very useful book. The thing is, it's a very useful book for everyone, because even if you're not "in business" for yourself, you are still your own brand.
Something to think about.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
2010? Says who?
I would like a recount please. As much as I am de-fricking-lighted that 2009 has finally effed off, I don't think I'm ready for this year yet. Too much went on in the last couple of months of '09 and I'm still unpacking it all. One more week of Non Year and then I'll really start the New Year, okay?
Kthxbye.
PS: Seriously 2009, don't let the door hit you in the ass on your way out. Go. Get. Scoot.
Kthxbye.
PS: Seriously 2009, don't let the door hit you in the ass on your way out. Go. Get. Scoot.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Remembrance Day
November 11th is important to me in a very personal and emotional way. My two grandfathers served, in different uniforms, in World War II - both very young men at the time. In the case of my paternal grandfather, much too young - he lied about his age in order to enlist, as many boys did. He travelled to Europe and directly into the fighting when he was barely seventeen.
The reason November 11th is so very close to my heart is that it's the day I pay tribute to both my grandfathers, in a way I don't do throughout the rest of the year. I never knew my maternal grandfather, Wilfred McFarland. He died when my mother was about 12, so even she barely got to know him. His grave is at the far northern reaches of Toronto and is not all that easy to get to for someone with no car, like me. And, as he died when Mom was about 12, she was not helped to deal with it... it was another time, another world then - and (I hope) things would have been handled differently now. She does not go to his grave site regularly, and so I never have either.
My paternal grandfather, James Henry Challoner, is a different story for me. I knew him well and loved him dearly. He died in 1995. He taught me some of the values that I hold within me... that money isn't everything but that it needs to be taken care of; that family is worth more than everything else put together; that hard work and perserverance are sometimes their own reward; and that you can't make a really, really good devilled crab with margarine - it simply has to be butter. When he died I lost a mentor, a confidante, a fellow joker and prankster, and a potential tap of ancestral history that I didn't even know I wanted at the time. His grave site is in an ancestral cemetery, several hours away from here and I don't go there either.
In WWII, he was in the radio corps - that is, he went ahead of his military unit, sometimes into No Man's Land, to set up communications systems so that his unit were never out of touch. To my mind, it's a seemingly inocuous but extraordinarily dangerous, selfless and essential duty. And I feel as though he spent four years doing that in order to help the granddaughter he would have, some thirty years later. In the past few years, I've been doing a lot of introspection and work within myself. Some of this has been questioning and evolving my idea of what God/a higher power/a spiritual force is for me. I don't have a definition of what my higher power is, but I have a way of communicating with it... I simply talk to my Boppa Challoner, assuming that he has gone on ahead to set up communications, and I ask him to pass the message along. He has been doing an excellent job.
And so, because I don't go to the final resting places of either of my two grandfathers, Remembrance Day is set aside - for me anyway - to think about them both. To honour them. To marvel in disbelief at the things these men had seen and done at such terribly young ages, and then were asked to put it all aside once they came back home to live the rest of their lives. This is the day I remember to thank them for what they did for their country, for their family, and for me.
And this is the day that I really hope that they've met each other now and are fishing together.
Thanks Grandpa Wilf. Thanks Boppa.
Love you and miss you both.
The reason November 11th is so very close to my heart is that it's the day I pay tribute to both my grandfathers, in a way I don't do throughout the rest of the year. I never knew my maternal grandfather, Wilfred McFarland. He died when my mother was about 12, so even she barely got to know him. His grave is at the far northern reaches of Toronto and is not all that easy to get to for someone with no car, like me. And, as he died when Mom was about 12, she was not helped to deal with it... it was another time, another world then - and (I hope) things would have been handled differently now. She does not go to his grave site regularly, and so I never have either.
My paternal grandfather, James Henry Challoner, is a different story for me. I knew him well and loved him dearly. He died in 1995. He taught me some of the values that I hold within me... that money isn't everything but that it needs to be taken care of; that family is worth more than everything else put together; that hard work and perserverance are sometimes their own reward; and that you can't make a really, really good devilled crab with margarine - it simply has to be butter. When he died I lost a mentor, a confidante, a fellow joker and prankster, and a potential tap of ancestral history that I didn't even know I wanted at the time. His grave site is in an ancestral cemetery, several hours away from here and I don't go there either.
In WWII, he was in the radio corps - that is, he went ahead of his military unit, sometimes into No Man's Land, to set up communications systems so that his unit were never out of touch. To my mind, it's a seemingly inocuous but extraordinarily dangerous, selfless and essential duty. And I feel as though he spent four years doing that in order to help the granddaughter he would have, some thirty years later. In the past few years, I've been doing a lot of introspection and work within myself. Some of this has been questioning and evolving my idea of what God/a higher power/a spiritual force is for me. I don't have a definition of what my higher power is, but I have a way of communicating with it... I simply talk to my Boppa Challoner, assuming that he has gone on ahead to set up communications, and I ask him to pass the message along. He has been doing an excellent job.
And so, because I don't go to the final resting places of either of my two grandfathers, Remembrance Day is set aside - for me anyway - to think about them both. To honour them. To marvel in disbelief at the things these men had seen and done at such terribly young ages, and then were asked to put it all aside once they came back home to live the rest of their lives. This is the day I remember to thank them for what they did for their country, for their family, and for me.
And this is the day that I really hope that they've met each other now and are fishing together.
Thanks Grandpa Wilf. Thanks Boppa.
Love you and miss you both.
Left, James Challoner. Right, Wilfred McFarland.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Good riddance, October.
Usually October is my very favourite month of the year. I love the crisp weather, the intoxicating colours of the arboreal palette (oh yeah, i know the word arboreal), the rustling sound of leaves being walked through, the smell of the first fireplace fires in the air, and Hallowe'en.
This year all those things were in place, and brought me moments of soulful satisifaction. But also this year, October just plain sucked.
The theme of the month seemed to be an attempt at snatching bits of future away from me. Career, money, encounters with others' mortality, and even serious news about my own health. Somehow the universe wants me to remain firmly grounded in the present and release or seriously rethink the way I've been looking at my future. Opportunities I thought would be mine literally vanished from possibility, and challenges I never thought I'd have to face suddenly became all too real.
Incredibly, I'm pretty much okay with it. If I had my druthers, things would go differently - but I take solace in trusting that my druthers may not be in complete alignment with the universe's plan for me, and that there are endless possibilities and opportunities that I have not even considered yet. Don't get me wrong, this peace and maturity isn't in me 24/7 and I've been throwing more than my share of fits; but always, eventually, I come back to realize that this is a journey - I am the driver, I am the navigator, I can stop any time I want or forge ahead, but I didn't build the road. A better road-builder than me did so.
This year all those things were in place, and brought me moments of soulful satisifaction. But also this year, October just plain sucked.
The theme of the month seemed to be an attempt at snatching bits of future away from me. Career, money, encounters with others' mortality, and even serious news about my own health. Somehow the universe wants me to remain firmly grounded in the present and release or seriously rethink the way I've been looking at my future. Opportunities I thought would be mine literally vanished from possibility, and challenges I never thought I'd have to face suddenly became all too real.
Incredibly, I'm pretty much okay with it. If I had my druthers, things would go differently - but I take solace in trusting that my druthers may not be in complete alignment with the universe's plan for me, and that there are endless possibilities and opportunities that I have not even considered yet. Don't get me wrong, this peace and maturity isn't in me 24/7 and I've been throwing more than my share of fits; but always, eventually, I come back to realize that this is a journey - I am the driver, I am the navigator, I can stop any time I want or forge ahead, but I didn't build the road. A better road-builder than me did so.
Friday, October 16, 2009
let down
It's been a week of let downs.
Found out yesterday that the government program I've been trying to get into since June has been discontinued, effective last week. I was meant to start on December 7th. This has been a hell of a lot of work for very little intrinsic gain, and now I am out the $20,000 the program was going to pay me while I launched my coaching business for real.
Have also been in a ... um ... slightly diminished state of contact with a few people. That always pulls on my fear strings, and puts my insecurities under a magnifying glass. The worst, very worst, most horrible feeling for me in the world is feeling forgotten about. It can come upon me quickly and is very nearly always completely irrational. See, if I'm not in a room with you or actively communicating with you at any given moment, I have a sick tendency to believe that there's no way you could actually be thinking about me at all, and whats worse is you might be trying to avoid any future contact with me too. I know it's weird. I know it's irrational. But that's what feelings are, and that's what I feel from time to time.
Interesting thing is, I suspect the universe was preparing me for this in a vague way. I haven't done any cooking or baking just for the hell of it, in MONTHS. And yet on Tuesday, I made two casseroles of comfort-y goodness in the form of my mom's recipe of macaroni with real cheese and tomatoes and a crunchy breadcrumb crust on top. I also made a big batch of chocolate chip cookies. These have been most helpful in the wallowing stage of this disappointing week.
Next week will be better.
Found out yesterday that the government program I've been trying to get into since June has been discontinued, effective last week. I was meant to start on December 7th. This has been a hell of a lot of work for very little intrinsic gain, and now I am out the $20,000 the program was going to pay me while I launched my coaching business for real.
Have also been in a ... um ... slightly diminished state of contact with a few people. That always pulls on my fear strings, and puts my insecurities under a magnifying glass. The worst, very worst, most horrible feeling for me in the world is feeling forgotten about. It can come upon me quickly and is very nearly always completely irrational. See, if I'm not in a room with you or actively communicating with you at any given moment, I have a sick tendency to believe that there's no way you could actually be thinking about me at all, and whats worse is you might be trying to avoid any future contact with me too. I know it's weird. I know it's irrational. But that's what feelings are, and that's what I feel from time to time.
Interesting thing is, I suspect the universe was preparing me for this in a vague way. I haven't done any cooking or baking just for the hell of it, in MONTHS. And yet on Tuesday, I made two casseroles of comfort-y goodness in the form of my mom's recipe of macaroni with real cheese and tomatoes and a crunchy breadcrumb crust on top. I also made a big batch of chocolate chip cookies. These have been most helpful in the wallowing stage of this disappointing week.
Next week will be better.
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