Ice in my Coffee

By Pam Hadder

PHOTO CREDIT: Bing Wright, Broken Mirrors series

Winter is closing in – arrow heads of geese soar skyward, directing their efforts south. Although it’s tempting to slip into denial when the midday sun warms my hair, the breeze on my bare face soon delivers a frigid wakeup call.  With each minute of daylight lost, I know I’m drawing on precious reserves from summer’s fiery bounty.  And yet last winter, amid the coldest winter on record in 125 years, I felt my heart surge with love – the colder it got, the hotter my fire burned. I can’t explain it in words and I haven’t reached a point where I can write music or capture those feelings with visual imagery, but it appears that after years of griping about the cold and snow, I have a developed an abiding passion for winter.

Exhaling into this chilly morning, I watch my frozen breath hovering in a free-form cloud around my head. For a brief moment it is like time stands still, and I witness my recent past expressed as a vapourous sculpture, which soon dissipates into the environment.  Like my frozen breath, human life is precious and yet insignificant in universal timelines. We emerge for a minuscule blip, and then are returned to the vast energized anonymity from which we emerged – reunited with a nebulous, ever-evolving, expanding life force.

I consider all that I know and love about winter – it is the blank canvas allowing for reflection and creative newness, it is the crisp jolt of air that challenges but affirms my stubborn resilience, and it is the stark beauty of branches against brilliant white snow drifts and deep blue skies.  Winter is dream time; rebuild and reset time – it is a time where we collect resources and review what to keep, what to give away, what to build, and we need to keep warm.  The cold requires us to move swiftly – to generate and sustain heat. We know from past experience that we do well to warm our core with comfort food and beverages. But most of all we need to keep the mind brightly lit with possibilities, using our ingenuity and stoking our personal fires to counter the sun’s waning favour.

Each year as the winter solstice approaches, I seek my New Year mantra.  Early winter marks the end of the incubation period, the third trimester – as such, I anticipate new life and I wonder, “What shall I name this new being, what will it look like, will I be equipped to attend to its needs?” What lessons and wisdom will come my way in the weeks ahead? In the past the mantras came to me unbidden; a gift from the cosmos landed with an unceremonious thunk on my unsuspecting consciousness! Typically the mantra took the form of a word or short phrase upon which I would reflect and then would seek deeper meaning and engagement. However, once I was attuned to this marvel, early winter became a time of anticipation and seeking – I was aware, so the delivery method was more subtle.  I was being encouraged to wake up and shift from patterns which did not hold meaning or value – the universe was making me work a little because I had the ability to do so.

Last year, however, the mantra process was exceedingly difficult – was the universe being fickle and withholding pearls of wisdom, or I was too distracted and desperate to see through the clutter? Had I lost my ability to discern subtlety? Or perhaps, I was being encouraged to seek, to move, to extend myself outward from this place of “me” of the personal mind?  Maybe I needed to understand my ability to flex muscle, to stretch, to discover and to prosper. I needed to break away from barriers that I feared, and in some cases, was so accustomed to that I could not see how they held me captive.

Nonetheless, the more earnestly I sought to connect, to forge, and to bond, the more disconnected I felt from that embrace.  At this point, I sometimes feel in tune with a joyous surge – I know there is more, and I know there is a reason for my insatiable striving, and everything seems possible, even easy. I have no fear or apprehension, just pensive, well-managed curiosity about the days to come and how I might prepare to receive understanding and to achieve the best results.

Recently, mentally and physically weary after a long working day, I tucked into my covers with Netflix, and I watched a 2011 documentary called “Happy.”  The film examines the roots of human happiness, interviewing researchers and examining cultures from around the world.  Happy asserts that happiness is 50% genetic-based, 10% environment-based and 40% action-based.  Additionally a number of key factors are known to affect our ability to be happy: supportive relationships (most commonly family and friends; community), and altruism (our ability to step outside of ourselves and care for others before our own needs). Additionally, there is a need for us to engage in those things that bring us joy and deep personal satisfaction – things that if we were not interrupted, we would continue to engage in for hours on end.  One researcher, pyschologist, Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, has coined a term for this state: FLOW. I have purchased Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi's books (Amazon) "Flow" and "Creativity: Flow and the Psychology of Discovery and Invention." These books aren't new - Csikszentmihalyi has been researching human happiness for decades and "Flow" was first printed back in 1990. However, I am eager to gain access to his findings and to incorporate that wisdom into my current engagements.

As I breathe in the warm air of this room, with diffused light flooding over my left shoulder, I suddenly know my mantra: it is simply, EXHALE. To exhale is to give over, to simultaneously connect and exchange energy physically and beyond the physical.  It means to empty the lungs of expended air, allowing for newness and ultimately for life. I understand that with newness the old must fall away - there are always choices and decisions that challenge and confound us. At this moment, I am enjoying one small breath: it flutters like a clumsy moth fumbling toward a soft light. I look out the window, and I sip the coffee that has grown cold.

Eyes On

By Pam Hadder

The eyes have it, eyes are the windows to the soul, keep your eyes on the prize, for your eyes only, eye spy, getting an eye full – there are so many eye-centric phrases within North American culture.  They roll off our tongues and into our communications without too much evaluation of true meaning or clarity.  A reality check may come our way when interacting with those to whom English is a second language.  Their refreshing perspectives can reveal that some of these glib phrases are filling space versus creating meaning or providing valid analogies. What are we really trying to say?

This summer, while visiting New Zealand, I was deeply engaged by encounters with Maori culture.  Traditional carvings similar to Canada’s west coast totems are inlaid with paua (pah-OO-ah) shell, and in particular the paua eyes of these majestic figures translate great energy and stimulate powerful responses.  The paua is incredibly beautiful – variegated blues, greens, purples and greys commonly intermingle.  Additionally, because of its smooth, reflective surface, the shell allows eyes to blaze in the sunshine and to emit an impressive glow in low light.  In Hamilton Gardens, Hamilton, New Zealand, I had the unique pleasure and honour to stand in a garden replicating a traditional Maori village. To be among these vibrant, powerful forms with dark storm clouds as a backdrop was breathtaking and deeply moving.

The traditional Maori carvings served to remind me that sometimes, visual media clearly communicates what our words cannot. Experiencing these incredible, significant cultural forms in person opens pathways allowing for additional layers of personal interpretation.  When defining learning within academic contexts, it is often described as "meaning making" – and it is known and understood that there are many access points to learning beyond written and oral communication; including via our encounters and interactions with visual forms.

Personally, the prominence of eyes and eye-centric phraseology in North American culture reminds me of the importance of observation and witness.  Modern use of eye-centred phrases and expressions, the focus on the eyes in creative expression and in marketing imagery mirrors the majestic forms created by ancestor cultures - we have followed the forms, but have we kept close contact with the meanings?  What if a bit more care was taken with our words and expression instead of recycling what we've heard before?  Why choose pat sayings and eschew possibilities for deeper personal connection and meaning?  Have we lost our ability to enjoy in-person human closeness and reverence, or can we shed the faceless mask of verbal oblivion and open our eyes to the possibilities of profound and personal communications?

Focus

Focus, Focus, Focus

By Pam Hadder

Seeking understanding

Meaning;

Meaning making,

I visualize -

My pale hands working paint,

Deep blue,

Like kneading dough;

Then spreading it on white walls.

The paint won’t speak,

It holds its secrets.

I blow into a hollow reed -

A single note

Woody, alto

Centering, calming;

Breathing.

Focus, focus,

I must record this,

Write it down,

Communicate,

Share.

Seeking understanding,

Meaning;

Meaning making -

I visualize.

Impressions

By Pam Hadder

How much do you care about what others think and/or say about you?  I am pleased to say that I am finally reaching a point where I recognize the need to remain steadfast amid the chatter and to follow my personal compass.  Another aspect of this, however, is that of impressions - not just what we call "first impressions" but all of the complex physical, temporal, and metaphysical bits we leave in our wake as we go about our daily lives!  These aspects I care deeply about; they are not petty or superficial and these intricate impressions bind us together with irrevocable subtlety. I fully recognize that I do not exist in isolation and that my actions, choices and words affect others, and as such I am humbled and honoured by the "every day," the simple interactions and experiences.  

Typically my summer allows me a bit of time for dreaming and connecting with the natural environment - just a week or two, brilliant and sweet and then it's gone; a glorious sun setting over a cold grey lake, my warm toes mourning the coolness of the sand. This summer my typical path was dealt an unexpected but truly spectacular twist!  For half of my summer I travelled to the southern hemisphere where it was "winter" - I say "winter" because it was so benign compared with the Canadian prairie winter I have lived with all of my life!   The destination was New Zealand where my business partner and I have been pursuing some investment opportunities; some good matches arose and the time to act was upon us.  And so I left summer for winter.

Our schedule was brisk but not insane - we took time to enjoy the natural, unspoiled beauty of NZ. It was a sensory feast and I am replaying vignettes in my mind as I write this - I hope the impressions I left were worthy because the Kiwis blessed me with a unique kaleidoscope of tastes, sights, insights, words, smells and experiences that is beyond measure. I can smell the briny air of the east coast; I am still in awe of the lush variety of trees, shrubs and flowers gracing the wild and garden landscapes, and I was inspired and humbled by the remarkable warmth and creative complexity of the Maori people. All the while I was conscious of consuming the beauty through all of my senses, and I imagined myself converting food, wine, sunshine, rain, vision, touch and scent into body cells so I could become a part of the wonderment, stealing a smidgen home in my flesh and bones. Looking back it was a profound physical journey of particular spiritual renewal. 

Impressions do matter - welcoming smiles, words of kindness, respect for nature and enjoyment of our time together; everyday, where ever life takes us. I hope my love remains where I leave it; I hope it binds, nourishes and grows.

Blue Tiger, Purple Moon

By Pam Hadder

Do you remember your dreams?  I find that if I consciously commit details to memory when I first awaken, they stay with me.  But most times I jump out of bed and rush into the various tasks necessary to tackle the working day – and the vivid images and experiences of my sleeping mind quickly vaporize like mist burning off in the sun.

I have heard a theory that when we sleep our soul is free to travel – that might explain why some mornings I feel like I have run three back-to-back marathons!  (I call those my “busy” dreams!) But aside from epic action and adventure scenarios, the most compelling dreams are those where I am given a gift – typically a creative idea or alternate viewpoint.  

Lately I have been taking these more seriously – I actually dreamed about a children’s book idea and title, for example – it was so realistic and specific that I could not brush it off.  When I awoke I recalled how Sir Paul McCartney once woke with a melody in his head.  He played it on the piano and eventually set lyrics to it.  But he wasn’t sure if the melody was unique, or if he was just playing some other composer’s work from memory.  He played the song for years, but just for those close to him – not in performance.  Finally he was satisfied that the melody was indeed his own!  This song became the mega hit, “Yesterday.”

Back to my dream book title - I researched it later in the same day.  There was another book similarly titled, but only ever so slightly.  Interestingly, the names of the book's characters also came to me in my dream, and these have been similarly noted for later use - I even saw the cover illustration; a finished book.  On a roll, I also researched a term that had come to me in an earlier dream – it had seemed like nonsense, but I began to wonder if it was from another language, and like Goldilocks I couldn't resist exploring.  I found a similar word that is the name of a Japanese manga character.  I’m not into heavy Japanese pop culture, so it’s unlikely that I would have encountered that name – so my mystery word has also been entered into my notes for future reference; unsolved but an item of interest. 

These are just two small examples of how our dreams can affect and inspire our waking lives.  Of course, most of us will not establish the global fame of Sir Paul, and we may not even aspire to attempt it. But we all have inborn potential and creativity – our dreams stimulate and inspire – in our dreams things can be both/and; we can work outside of the laws of physics, we can have  blue tigers, purple moons, and super-human abilities.  Thus, we expand beyond the common place, we defy the naysayers who have told us from childhood all of the things we cannot do or become. Dreams are a place to play, to discover, to test, to learn – we are truly “beautifully and fearfully made.” (The Holy Bible, Psalm 139:14)

I am also reminded of the 2006 documentary film “10 Questions for the Dalai Lama” where an American journalist travels for two years in India, patiently hoping to meet the Dalai Lama for a brief interview. Good fortune prevails, and the journalist is able to interview His Holiness. The Dalai Lama responds to one of the questions in a particularly unexpected manner – it is when he is asked what is the most important thing people can do to promote peace.  Without hesitation, His Holiness responds “critical thinking.”  This response showed great wisdom. Consider that with critical thinking, as with dreaming, we remove biases and boundaries; we examine, explore and compare with dispassionate objectivity. Critical thinking allows us to sift through filler and fodder to the crux of things – and what we typically find is commonality and also new discoveries; new ways of thinking, seeing and being. Perhaps our dream state is an inborn tool to nudge us toward a sublime state of enrichment and creative harmony?

Friends, the Emperor and Yoga

By Pam Hadder

I have decided to make a conscious effort to connect in real time with real folks – personally and professionally, every fibre of who I am is rejecting virtual falsehoods.   It’s like seeing someone you love eating crap, doing drugs or otherwise making unhealthy decisions – it’s a living lie and an overall “downer.” Don’t get me wrong – I love technology – I value and rely on the ease of applications and software to make my livelihood, and I have made a few meaningful personal and professional connections via social media and other online connections.  But let’s call the bluff – you know it’s true – you have to sift through a lot of detritus to find those diamonds in the dust! Time is precious, time is money, and I don’t want to pour out any more of my energy; nor do I wish to waste moments that could be funneled into real time, hands-on experiences – in my case, time outdoors, guitar/drums/dulcimer, fine art/painting/illustration, friends/family/loved ones.  

I am blessed to have full working use of my six senses, and I no longer want to limit their use to the virtual! Let me explain my path... when social media was gaining steam from a marketing perspective, I HAD to be engaged in it and  was obliged to try things – so that I could understand any benefits it could have for my clients.  To ignore the social media trend was like wearing an “I am old and obsolete” nametag!  So in short order my personal accounts became my guinea pigs, crash test dummies etc., and the rest is history!   Clients were insecure about being out of the loop (tech dinosaur syndrome) and had to have social media added to their websites – and in our industry (advertising and marketing), where insecurities are leveraged for gain, we were doubly doused in the frenzy – scrambling to understand, engage and stay ahead of the game.  And it is indeed a big game.

As I have stated, it has not been a complete loss, but I recognize that I am weary of the falsehood, I can’t play dumb, and thus the time has come for me to disassociate my vibrant, 3-D self from the virtual.  I am fully enjoying letting my feet feel the sensation of gravity: concrete, grass and earth; and real in-person human connection!  It reminds me of when I broke my leg in 1990 and how I felt when they took off the cast – scary but very real; magick! I should also point out that I was an “early bloomer” on Facebook.  We had a work group back in the day – three hundred of us found ourselves out of work when our employer sold the business and this “new, free networking thing” called Facebook was a way for us to share support, legal information, job leads etc.  So Facebook was my initiation into what was first called “new media” and which became “social media,” and it served the purpose.  So when social media started to push into the business realm, I was already familiar with it; it was “comfortable.”

Don’t get me wrong, I am not bailing on all of my “friends” and “followers” but I am disengaging from any falseness that I can detect.  Remember when it was all about the number of friends you had on Facebook?   Or can you remember the thrill of launching your first Twitter account, and within seconds you had new connections? Anyone could do it – even little kids could do it! It was a big ego gratifier and due to the ease of access it allowed many voiceless underdogs to shape a public persona that had power, esteem and meaning – virtually.  In my working context, social media was initially seen as a good “free” tool for all sizes and types of organizations to gain general awareness or for product and event-specific promotion.  I say “free” because marketers like myself soon caught on that there was a massive time investment with social media – content needed to be meaningful and you needed a lot of it.  Consider that the life of a tweet is (at best!) three hours, and you do the math from there!  Meaningful and relevant content that was also timely (i.e. strategic process) – this was and is seldom seen or achieved, and to date, no reputable academic studies have been able to prove that high numbers of followers, web site hits, etc. directly correlate to increased revenues for business.  Social media is making some people rich, but it’s not the business or personal account users, it is the developers who are raking in the cash!

To make matters worse, along the way people have lost their sense of reality, and along with it quality and integrity.  Because almost anyone can access the platforms, there has been overwhelming saturation of information and a dumbing down of quality. Therefore you will find that in the virtual world it’s quite easy to shape a persona or brand identity and make it look appealing and cool – but what is the real-time, in-person experience?  When you get to the nitty-gritty of things, is it just a virtual ego game, or does the person or the business have any real value? When was the last time you had really good after-care service? When was the last time someone really anticipated your needs and delivered on time?  When was the last time you felt that true warmth of connection?  The BIG factor, is that at some point, for legitimate personal and business pursuits, you need to connect in the realm of reality.

What makes or breaks your day?  Do you really care who unfollows you on Twitter or unfriends you on Facebook or what some random person says on your Instagram account?  Are you paying for groups of followers so that you look more appealing for “real” followers?  Do you waste aimless hours eating visual eye candy on Pinterest? Do you automate social media to free up valuable time?  Do you ever ask yourself – what the hell am I actually achieving?

Three final words:  friends, the emperor and yoga. 
1) FRIENDS:  my Dad, who was often disappointed by fickle, back-stabbing, small-minded colleagues (he worked for government – imagine your favourite Dilbert cartoon, complete with Pointy-Haired Boss) –  Dad always said if you were lucky you would have two or three true friends in your life.  You know the ones – you can call them anytime, ask them anything, they tell you they love you; they don’t try and change you – AND they build you up; they celebrate when you succeed!

2) THE EMPEROR:  have you ever read the story, “The Emperor’s New Clothes?” – if you haven’t you should.  It’s a kids’ story and the moral of the story is about deception – truth and reality.  Social media is our modern day “emperor’s new clothes!”   Once you get it, you can’t live the lie –even if everyone else is; you can’t un-see the truth, you can’t un-learn what you know is factual.

3) YOGA:  why this huge popularity with yoga these days? Based in traditional Ayurvedic medicine, yoga is about wellness of the body and mind – it requires real-time connection and physical and mental awareness.  Human minds and bodies are trying to disconnect from the false and reconnect to what matters.  It may not mean yoga for you, but it might. Over and Oooohhhmmmm ...

Goodbye False Icons!

By Pam Hadder

Today is an auspicious day. Rising from bed, swinging sleepy limbs out of cotton swathing to face another day, I am delighted to see the sun’s blush just meeting the horizon; we are in sync at last, without need of a jarring alarm – it’s a perfect beginning to the rest of my life.  Into the shower I trundle, happily soaping all those wonderful body parts:  silently thanking my feet, legs, arms, back, breasts, toes, fingers, ears – I am blessed to have a healthy body; thank you, thank you, thank you. 

No more judgment – not from me; never again - the world will judge my female form harshly, but I have chosen to be her one stalwart supporter.  When I emerge from my domestic cocoon and I must face the many false icons of Photoshopped “perfection” online, outdoors, in print – everywhere – and should I feel myself feeling diminished; fading, I will tap along the pathways my counselor has shown me – face, collar bone, ribs, hand; repeat.   Affirmations will flow from my lips like a bird song: “I am wise, I am healthy, I am enough, I am beautiful for who I am; I love and accept myself…”  

I will feel my heart maintain a slow confident beat, faithfully keeping time while I maneuver through the day’s obstacles and successes; I will draw air into lungs that infuse my whole being with vital oxygen, and when I eat I will refuel; energize – I will relish each bite: savoury, sweet, sour, salty. I will not count calories, or steps; nor will I ever use a scale.  I will not judge my worthiness by size, shape, how much or how little I eat – I will not see food as my enemy.  Food is there to nourish us, after all – so I will delight in having the good fortune to select from many fresh food options, and I will luxuriate in its beauty, sensuality and diversity, and in those special times I can share earth’s nutritional bounty with others.

It has taken decades for the child, then a young woman, then a mother to reach this place of feminine certitude – I am, I feel, I appreciate, I blossom, and I am eternal.  When the work day is done, I will stretch and smile, and seek recreation in the things that bring my body and mind healthy stimulation and inspiration: my art, my music, and leisurely time spent outdoors, or in silent reflection, writing, listening or resting. I do not need to justify my choices; I do not need to explain, but I must fully engage as only I can so that I can enjoy my personal potential.  If not today, then when?  We are only certain of this one breath, this one moment after all.

Back to my body – my good, beautiful, healthy body – I solemnly vow that I will honour her.  I will not wear tight polyester, I will not pound my bones against the hard road, I will not pant so hard I taste blood.  I will stand tall and gracefully walk at a pace that feels right in clothes that feel right, I will feel my heart beating strongly, I will enjoy the scents and sights around me; and I will connect with the people around me  with positive energy – when they smile, I will smile back.
  

Some very good women to heal you and inspire your journey:

Limon – http://limonfresh.ca/

Virgie Tovar – https://www.facebook.com/virgie.tovar.1/about

Gifts

By Pam Hadder

"Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us" - Albert Schweitzer

It's been a long haul, but as convocation draws near I find myself pondering the meaning of it all - beyond the coursework, content and theories; what did I really learn?  It is said that no one can steal from us the things that we commit to memory, but I also recognize that those things we cherish the most are much more than any factual knowledge!  Larger themes have bloomed and overlapped: indigeneity, human history and the power of inter-connection - transporting me to vistas I could not have imagined.  

I have been thinking about a friend's remarks on higher learning.  I congratulated her on pursuing her masters degree and she said that the more she learns, the more she realizes how much she doesn't know! As I prepare to celebrate my graduation, I feel the same sense of joy mingled with deep humility.  I am deeply grateful for the loyal few who encouraged me, and did not belittle my musing - their influence and support have been immeasurable gifts. My world is altered, perceptions heightened, and I have the tools to address any impediments that cross my path.  However, I recognize the necessity of continual learning, and I am eager to pursue new academic goals.

Learning is often taken for granted, but it is a privilege to which not every person has easy access - I faced many barriers; without the support of others I could never have been successful.  Even within my program I faced constant challenges - for example, required electives which seemed irrelevant and that terrified me: "I can't believe I have to take this course - oh my God, this is way out of my league!" Interestingly, it was these "tough nuts" that left the deepest impact. Additionally, by overcoming my fears and objections, I began to recognize that beyond any external factors, my greatest limitations were self-imposed! Ultimately, however, the things I resisted the most became my treasure chest and my fortress, reshaping my self-view, inspiring my heart, and replacing voids with bridges to hope and increased understanding. Looking back on my childhood and young adult years, I can now see how I have allowed naysayers to destroy my aspirations. 

This time of learning has breathed new life into me, and has firmly nudged me back on my path. I know that I want to keep on learning. I know there are more obstacles than scholarships. And most of all I know that I have value, purpose, a place, and a voice - I want to make the most of every day that I am given. Each day is a sacred gift that is beyond value; infinitely precious, and all of the people we interact with, the choices we make influence outcomes far greater than ourselves. Looking out my window at a bleak, grey sky, I don't see hopelessness any more - I think of this Earth, its beauty and its people. I imagine the potential and happy tears well - oh, my feet are restless!

Scentimental

By Pam Hadder

So what does Salvador Dali have to do with my daughter? Well, it’s complicated – a story made of sensory impressions, passed from father to child; from grandfather to granddaughter. It’s illusory and yet obvious, and it all started with a spritz of cologne.

My daughter’s birthday just passed.  I can still remember the moment she was born – how small and still she was.  They say newborns can’t see that well, but her dark, almond shaped eyes bored into my weary hazel ones with the intensity of a very wise old soul.  She didn't cry; she came swiftly and peacefully out of my body and was gently sponged, swaddled and placed against my breast – a textbook, natural birth. Now she’s a twenty-something and Momma is just a strange aging creature that she has little time for – I think I am her worst nightmare; everything she doesn't want to be.  She constantly talks about how cool her friends’ Moms are, and I feel my motherhood slowly melting away like a sugar cube in hot tea.

Needless to say, she’s hard to shop for – I have walked countless miles and scoured shops for the perfect little something for all those birthdays, come and gone; something precious and pretty that she would wear and remember my love. Failure after failure, but I just keep on trying and blowing it –frankly, if I hadn't witnessed her coming out of my body, I’d swear there’d been a baby swap!  But she’s all mine – people tell me how alike we are, but I don’t see it.  I do know that I was not close to my own Mom – I love her, but I always fell short of her standard; I didn't measure up.  To this day, my Mom hugs me dutifully, and I have described her limp embrace as like having someone drape a light cardigan over your shoulders. 

Back to the birthday – I bought my daughter a handmade leather and crystal rocker-style wrap bracelet, and I found a card that played Frank Sinatra (she’s in love with him). And I put some cash in a tiny gift bag.  I knew she’d put on the bracelet once and never wear it again – after all it came from the leper known as MOM, but I wanted her to have something to open. I was right – she did try it on and thanked me, but I found the bracelet in its velvet pouch sitting in the living room the next day: ditched, another gifting mishap.  But the cash, well she spent it on a fragrance she wanted – AND she let me know the money I gave didn't quite cover the cost (ouch).  

This is where it gets interesting.  She wanted me to smell the cologne – “It’s a men's cologne,” she told me. She had wanted her boyfriend to buy it; wear it, but he didn't like it. I held the spray nozzle under my nose – hard too get a read, too faint.  I asked if it would be okay to spray a little. I over-sprayed, and saturated the cuff of my pullover; dang!  Finally, the scent: “It’s very nice, it reminds me of something – another cologne.”  But I’ll be damned, I could not put a visual to the strong connection I was feeling. Princess pranced off with her loot, but my mind was in overdrive.  Repeatedly I lowered my head, sniffed and thought, and I sniffed again.  Then it clicked – my Dad always liked this after-shave tonic called Tabac.  It wasn't expensive – it came in a white glass bottle and it smelled spicy - kind of like vanilla tobacco.   My daughter and my Dad had this special bond, he could be crotchety, but he was putty in her presence – she had found the scent that was uniquely her grandpa!  So I ventured into the tigress’ lair and I let her know about Tabac – she smiled and we talked a bit (I could be a stranger on a bus!); she knew she was Grandpa’s favourite, so despite the awkwardness, I felt I should tell her. At least I had some small pleasure in knowing, my Dad left an impression.  

The story doesn't end here – I kept sniffing my cuff, knowing I was on the right track, but that the scent trail led further than I had ventured; something was niggling away at me.  Then it clicked – I could see it: an amber-brown cologne, in a crystal bottle shaped like Aphrodite’s kiss, with a frosted glass patrician nose: Dali. I’d worn that cologne when I was my daughter’s age: spicy, sultry with a hit of tobacco.  My moment of personal realization: in my own attempt to define my young adult self, I had actually snuffled closer into my Dad’s shirt collar. No, still not done, but we are close! The final connection is a tight, symbolic loop-de-loop. The fragrance my daughter loves is called Pi, the fragrance is amber-brown and the Pi symbol appears in gold on the architecturally-inspired bottle.  Pi is the letter P, Pamela starts with P, Pamela is a Greek name, and I sign my art work as “Pamela”, but using the Greek alphabet/symbols. 

Scent and sentimentality – how complex the bonds that draw us together, even as we try to pull apart.

Hate Bomb

By Pam Hadder

We made you, we can destroy you.  There is deeply disturbing love-hate relationship with celebrity – it’s nothing new, but technology access has allowed destructive, spiteful behaviour to mushroom out of control. The vilest diatribes are vaulted into cyberspace without regard of who might be hurt, a volley of cruel imagery and words. With their assumed cloak of invisibility, users can be unbelievably base.

Celebrities: we are dazzled by their charisma, we are awed by their stature, and we fantasize about the wealth they enjoy; imagining a life of luxury and unimaginable abundance. Yet we love to see them brought to their knees, humiliated and ultimately destroyed – we made you, we can destroy you.  What does this say of human nature?  I like to think I’m not so evil a creature, but I’m not immune to enjoying some tabloid-style schlock. As a woman that has always felt the pressure to weigh less, be more feminine, and has never able to achieve 100% acceptance, my heart does warm a little when the paparazzi sneak pics of stars without makeup, for example!  I want to say, “See, they are just people – packaged and airbrushed; they have typical human ‘flaws’ – they aren’t what you think!”

Think of the great icons of film, music and public life, people like Elvis and Marilyn.  Pushed and manipulated by studios, managers and agents; addicted to drugs and ultimately destroyed as they strove to be thin enough, vivacious enough; to fit the hypersexualised, surreal die that had been cast.  Even at the peak of studio-manipulated “perfection,” Marilyn and Elvis were never enough; they could not satiate the human monster. A lot of people got rich, and a lot of folks are still making money on their celebrity. What do Lady Diana, Bill Clinton, Lindsey Lohan, Amy Winehouse, Amanda Bynes, Miley Cyrus and Justin Bieber have in common?  They have all been ruthlessly stalked, singled out and bullied, and some of them are no longer with us – did we push them over the edge?  I was sickened when Amy Winehouse died and jerks who had belittled her for her appearance and addictions cooed, “Oh what a tragic loss!”  Hypocrites.

Yes, I’m just as guilty; just as vulnerable to salacious gossip – I am far from blameless. But I clearly see that Justin Bieber is just someone’s son, a kid who experienced unusual success at a very young age and who is trying to fit in– he’s just a few years older than my own son for goodness sake.  Seeing Biebs in prison orange with bad skin just feels so uncomfortable; it makes me want to scream, “Where the hell are the good people – and where is his family in all of this?”  I worry for him and for us.  We should consider that he is being exploited by hangers-on who will be gone as soon as the money and drugs run out. Even on my toughest day when I am juggling bills and hustling for work, I wouldn’t trade places with Bieber or any other hounded “celebrity” not even for one hour – no thanks!  And as we enter the month of love, I choose to express my opinions with great care - love first, love without bounds. You are self-made; I choose to honour your existence.

Inanimate Intimacy

This past weekend we got a break from the severe cold (aka Artic Vortex!) and I happily catapulted my sheepskin-swathed self out for dinner and a movie.  It was a hugely encouraging experience from the get-go, as there were quite a few new movies to choose from – well, maybe not so “new” as I have been holed up since before the holiday season – so let’s rephrase that as “new to me!”  My girlfriend and I settled on the film, “She” – starring Amy Adams and Joaquin Phoenix; it is about a nerdy guy who falls in love with his OS named Samantha.

The movie was really fantastic on many levels – it had the superficial appeal of many films (great actors, quirky humour, etc.), but this was greatly downplayed in favour of thought-provoking content.  What has me wanting to see this film again is its cleverly written script and haunting, complex themes those words define. Unlike most films that hit mainstream theatres, “She” has the meat of a stage performance.  Highly successful in creating a realistic-futuristic experience using subtly crafted visual layers of alienation, the film treads a fine line between the immediate and what lies ahead. 

Take for example the pasty-faced urbanites smiling and talking not to each other, but to their respective customized OS – I could see a lot of myself and people I know in those faces and behaviours! Yes, scary but true – even as I write this, I know I will be posting it to a blog and sharing it on a number of social media platforms, and I am seriously questioning the value and reasoning behind all of that. A word that comes to mind is “posturing” – a sort of distanced posturing versus real connection and communication. Thus I reconsider the real world impact and personal context of my blog forays: a virtual smattering of self, volleyed off into the uncertainty of an ever-expanding cyber-surreality for a purpose that is half crap-shoot science and half boredom-loneliness-ego-driven-whatever-ness.

Compelling in its awkwardness, frustrating with its deliberate lack of videographic grandeur, relatable in its human brokenness, and memorable for the poetic wisdom woven throughout like a welcome breeze, “She” is more like something you expect to see screened at Sundance.  Most of all, the film has served as a reality check for this writer, this woman, this tech lover – it makes me want to touch, taste, feel , see more of the three-dimensional, flawed and fabulous real world and it puts all of this into harsh relativity.  Over and out.