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Life: A Poem From A Younger Me

November 23, 2015 By

It has been far too long since I posted anything on my humble blog. For most of this year, life has moved at an overwhelming pace. I have barely had time to sleep, let alone do things like personal blogging and running. It is only now, while I’m on a desperately needed vacation in South Africa, that I have been able to catch my breath.

Having been silent on my blog for so long, I’ve been struggling to decide what to say. Then, last week, a very close family friend dropped in for a visit and told me that she had come across a poem that I had written years ago.

When I say “years ago”, I actually mean decades. The poem is dated October 5th, 1986. I was sixteen years old and approaching the end of Grade 11.

And so today’s post is proudly brought to you by a much younger me.

life is like a play

Life

Life is like a play which starts at birth and ends at death
The play is divided into acts –
Each act represents a part of your life
And each act is important however big or small it is
The acts are divided into scenes –
Each scene reveals an element of your inner self
And each scene is as important as every other scene

Just as scenes make up an act
Each element of your character makes up the whole you
And just as acts make up a whole play
You alone can make your life

There are no prompts to tell you what to do or say –
It all comes from you
You alone can decide how you want to play your part
And you alone can play that part

You are not the only actor on the stage –
For the play to be a success
The actors must consider each other
And give each other a chance to speak
And persevere to enjoy acting with each other –
For where there’s a stage there will always be actors

There will never be another you
And therefore the play would not be the same without you
You are a one in a million actor
This is the only chance you will ever have to act in this play
Therefore you should act your part to the full
And give whatever you can to improve the set
So that when the curtain comes down on you
Everyone, including you – a unique, valuable actor
Can smile at what you have given to this play

This is an original post by Kirsten Doyle. Photo credit: Tim Green. This picture has a creative commons attribution license.

Filed Under: life, Poetry Tagged With: , , , , , , ,
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2013: Magic Moments From Around The World

January 1, 2014 By

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2013 was not a good year for me. After a reasonable enough start, I lost my job in May, at around the same time one of my best friends passed away. Throughout the summer I fought an uphill battle with depression as life dealt me one blow after another. Fortunately, though, I am a natural optimist. I go through life with the attitude that no matter how bad things are, they will always get better, and there is always something for me to be thankful for. I have my husband and children, a roof over my head, clean running water and autism services for my son. That alone puts me way ahead of many people in the world.

Among all of the loss and heartbreak, there have been some shining moments this year. I had a very enjoyable and much-needed break in Niagara Falls with my family, I ran a half-marathon personal best for my autism run, and after years of procrastination I wrote a book in thirty days.

I posted a message on Facebook asking people to share their best moments from 2013, and I got some great responses. There was a lot of joy going around this year.

My friend Patti, for instance, has been dreaming of going to Europe for a long, long time. This year, she finally got to go.

Margie, who never fails to inspire me with how spectacularly she has turned her life around over the last few years, got married to the love of her life.

In January, Debbie from South Africa became a Grandma! She has also been rethinking her attitude to life by surrounding herself with inspirational people, things and activities.

One of my favourite responses came from liver transplant recipient Bill. He says, “I am alive. Every day above ground is a good day. Everything else is just icing on the cake.”

Noella sent one of my other favourite responses. She lost her beloved husband to cancer – a scary and sad time for her – and yet she is focused on how her needs have been met to the extent that she can help others. Here is what she says: “I am amazed at the outpouring of love and help from my local and internet community. I thought this season would be extremely difficult, but I have felt Bill with me almost every day these last several days, and he says to me, “It’s okay, I’m okay, and you’re going to be okay; it is the way it’s supposed to be.” There was even a moment when I was taking a shower when I remembered him walking in on me and joining me. Made me giggle as he seemed so close like he was doing it again. Gives me great comfort.”

Then there is fellow Canadian Jacquie, an online friend who I had the absolute pleasure of meeting this year. Jacquie is a special needs mom like me. Her younger son is adopted. Jacquie’s highlight was going to an adoption conference and learning that she is not “a bad and crazy mother”. I could have told her that for free, but you know… Adoption is not easy – as an adoptee I can testify to how challenging it was for my mom as I was growing up – and it gave Jacquie great comfort to know that she is not alone.

Kane used to live in Michigan, where there is lots of snow. This year, he moved to Texas, where there is – well – not a lot of snow. His reason for moving? To be with the love of his life. He says, “This is the most awesome I have ever been.”

Tawnya, another fellow Canuck who has been a great source of friendship and support this year, didn’t have a great year. Her husband contracted a very serious lung infection – so serious that doctors told her to call family members. She received overwhelming support from family and friends during a very scary time, and her husband survived.

Finally, my crazy New Zealander friend Karyn (whose initiation as a runner I totally take credit for) shares another story of survival. Her father-in-law had Stage Four bowel cancer. Anyone who knows anything about cancer will know that this is not good. But he got the all-clear, proving that sometimes, miracles do happen.

I am truly grateful to the people mentioned in this post for sharing their stories, and for giving us a slice of happiness to take with us into 2014. I wish the best of years to every single person reading this. If you have your own gem from the last year to share, please do so in the comments!

This is an original post by Kirsten Doyle, with input from some pretty awesome people. Photo credit: jenny downing. This picture has a creative commons attribution license.

Filed Under: 2013 Year In Review, Happiness, Moments Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , ,
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The Liebster Award – Questions and Answers

February 10, 2013 By

The two wonderful ladies who nominated me for the Liebster Award each gave me eleven questions to answer. I didn’t want to include my answers in yesterday’s post, because that was already running to over 900 words.

Here are the questions Maya asked me, along with my answers.

1. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? My difficulty with food. I have some long-standing body image issues and a very uncomfortable relationship with food. I have tried countless ways to permanently fix my eating habits, and I have finally come to the conclusion that this might be something I have to take up with my therapist.

2. High heels, sneakers or flip flops? Sneakers!

3. The beach, the city or the mountain? The beach. I love the energy of the sea along with the hot sun.

4. Who is your favourite singer/group? I enjoy many artists, but the one I always come back to is Queen. When Freddie Mercury died, the world lost a man with phenomenal talent.

5. If you could vacation anywhere (cost is not a consideration), where would you go and why? South Africa. I’d have a good long vacation there to see my mom and brother, and other family members and friends. And I’d get my fix of hot sunshine and Highveld storms.

6. Do you mind that my blog is sometimes snarky? Nope. I can handle snark as long as it’s honest.

7. What is the one thing we would be surprised to know about you? My job involves a lot of interaction and a certain amount of conflict (all very professional, of course), and I find this incredibly difficult because I have social anxiety issues.

8. Favourite guilty-pleasure TV show? Friends. Last time I had to take sick days from work, I hunkered down in the front of the TV with my Friends DVD set.

9. Favourite book or author? This may sound really lame, but I absolutely love Dr. Seuss – even at my age. I love the rhythm of his books, and his quotes are the absolute best.

10. Do you admit to having a favourite child? No, but when they’re misbehaving, they do conveniently become my husband’s kids.

11. If you could replace your life with one from the Disney Channel, which show would you pick? I don’t know what’s on the Disney Channel, but I wouldn’t mind being the guy in Blues Clues for a day. I’d have a good long conversation with that talking mailbox. But only for a day. I wouldn’t be able to handle the psychedelic world for longer than that.

And here are the questions that Phaedra asked me, along with my answers.

1. Speed work. Love it or loathe it? Love it. It can definitely be painful, but I love having a specific goal for my runs, and the feeling of accomplishment at the end is great.

2. How did you get into running? The first time round, it was part of a quest to quit smoking and get healthy. The second time, I was (and still am) motivated by the opportunity to raise funds for kids with autism.

3. What is your one guilty pleasure? Most evenings, when the kids are in bed, I sip on a glass of wine while winding down from my busy day.

4. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be and why? I’m pretty happy where I am, to be honest. I love Toronto, and although waiting lists do my head in sometimes, autism services in Ontario are pretty good.

5. Do you have a bucket list? If so, what’s #1 on it? Yes, I do have a bucket list. The #1 item is to run the Cape Town Marathon. I only want to do one full marathon, and that one is it.

6. What piece of gear could you not live without? Hands-down, this has to be my Garmin training watch.

7. Do you have a bad habit you want to break? I’m always too rushed (or too lazy, let’s be honest) to put on Bodyglide before heading out for my long runs. As a result, my oversized boobs get shredded to ribbons from the chafing.

8. What is your go-to pre-race meal? Two slices of whole-grain toast with peanut butter, and a good-sized cup of coffee.

9. Do you prefer to run in cold or the heat? I’ll run in just about anything, but I do love summer running. The only weather condition that I absolutely loathe running in is strong wind.

10. What do you love about running? I have figured out what duration and intensity it takes for me to achieve the Runners High, and it’s always worth it. The big thing for me – and the thing that keeps me motivated during runs that are not going well – is the feeling of accomplishment at the end.

11. Are you a solo runner or do you run with a group? I always run by myself, mostly because my schedule doesn’t really allow me to run with other people. I like running alone, but company would be nice on the occasional run.

Now, I get to make up eleven questions for the people I have nominated. Here’s what I would like to know.

1. How much time do you spend on the Internet each day (no judgment, I promise!)

2. What is the dumbest thing you ever did?

3. What is the smartest thing you ever did?

4. If you had to entrust one person with a winning lottery ticket, who would it be?

5. What is your earliest childhood memory?

6. What one thing (if anything) would you change about your physical appearance?

7. When did you last hand-write a letter to someone?

8. Have you ever had a falling-out with your best friend, and did you make it up?

9. If you could have any job in the world (regardless of qualifications needed), what would it be?

10. BlackBerry, Android or iPhone?

11. If you could have dinner with any famous person, living or dead, who would it be and why?

Filed Under: Liebster Award, Questions Tagged With: , , ,
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Homecomings

May 24, 2012 By

I am participating in the 2012 Wordcount Blogathon, which means one post every day for the month of May.

When my kids were little – well, littler than they are now – they went to a great daycare centre a few minutes’ walk away from our house. When the weather was nice, the kids would be allowed to play outside at the end of the day while they were waiting for their parents to pick them up. When I got off the bus from work, I would walk directly to the centre, and as I approached, I would hear the sound of children laughing and playing in the outdoor play area behind the building.

There is no sound in the world that is more magical than the laughter of children. I used to treasure that part of every day – those moments in which the sounds of childhood joy floated through the air and reached my ears.

When my boys reached the age-limit of the daycare and had to leave, I knew that I would miss those precious sounds.

Now that both boys are always home by the time I get off the bus, my homecoming is quite different to what it was back then, but it is no less magical.

My husband and children, alerted to my impending arrival by a text or phone call from me, stand together at the front door, peering out of the frosted glass panels on either side. When I appear at the end of the road, my husband opens the door and releases them into our quiet street. They charge down the road towards me, running in that completely natural, unrestrained way that only children are capable of, and they launch themselves at me, giggling helplessly as I pretend to fall over backwards.

By this time, my husband is usually ambling down the road to meet me. We go for a walk around the block, all four of us holding hands. Then we turn and head back towards the house. When we’re about half a block away, we line the kids up.

On your marks!

The kids look up at us with anticipation.

Get set!

George starts to giggle and looks all around him. James, who has acquired my love of running and actually takes this seriously, looks straight ahead as he braces himself for takeoff.

GO!

And they’re off, racing each other to the house. In that moment, we are not looking at a child with autism and a child without autism. We are looking at two typical boys, being brothers.

And this is what life is all about. Love. Togetherness. Family.

(Photo credit: Kirsten Doyle)

Filed Under: 2012 Wordcount Blogathon, Childhood, Children, family, Laughter, life Tagged With: , , , , , , , ,
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The Transience Of Life

May 4, 2012 By

I am participating in the 2012 Wordcount Blogathon, which means one post every day for the month of May.

As I write this, I am sitting on the subway (having miraculously gotten a seat with enough room to type) on my way to the memorial service for my friend Margaret, who died last week.

Her passing was a big shock to me and my husband. We knew that she had been sick, but we had no idea that her illness was life-threatening. We did not know that she had cancer.

As I prepare to honour Margaret’s memory and offer condolences to her husband, I am still reeling from the very unexpected death of my aunt just three months ago. I find it hard to believe that so recently, I was jetting to the other side of the world to comfort my mom and help scatter the ashes of a woman who had been like a second mother to me.

These events – the deaths of my aunt and my friend – have led me to think almost obsessively about the transience of life. I am very aware that at some point over the next few years, I will lose my mom, who is now the last surviving sibling in her family. In all likelihood, because I am ten years younger than my husband, someday I will be widowed – hopefully a long time from now.

And I think about how I am getting along with everyone in my life, how much they all mean to me, and how much it would devastate me if any of them were to suddenly not be here anymore. I worry about whether I am a good enough mother, wife, sister, daughter, and friend.

I find myself feeling permanently shaken by the idea that at any moment, someone I love could simply and suddenly be gone forever. Arguments and disagreements upset me a great deal more than they used to, because what if I never get a chance to make it up with the other person? What if I never get to say sorry?

Earlier today, I gave one of my best friends a directive that she is not allowed to die. Ever. Not understanding the depth of how I feel about all of this these days, she asked why.

Well, it’s because I value her friendship and although our only communication is via email and Facebook, she is an integral part of my life. And I want her and my other loved ones to be there forever.

I know it’s a simplistic wish – for people to never die – but whenever I lose someone close to me, I feel like a part of me dies with them.

The only bright part of this is that when they die, a part of them stays alive with me – a part of them that I carry with me always, no matter where I go.

My point in all of this is that life is short. There is no time for meaningless disagreements that really don’t matter, and there is no time for people to treat their loved ones in a way that makes them feel unhappy, unwanted, or unworthy.

We need to embrace the people we have, while we still have them.

And when arguments happen, as they invariably do with us humans, there is no better time to patch things up than the present.

(Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/mikebaird/3036430387/. This picture has a creative commons attribution license.)

Filed Under: 2012 Wordcount Blogathon, Bereavement, Death, life, Loss Tagged With: , , , , , ,
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Beyond The Stars

April 29, 2012 By

I am participating in the Health Activist Writers Month Challenge, in which I publish a post every day for the month of April, based on health-related prompts.

April 29 – Six sentence story: In this day of micro-blogging – brevity is a skill worth honing. Can you tell a story and make it short and sweet? What can you say in six sentences?

When my son George was diagnosed with autism, I didn’t really know what it meant or what he would ultimately be capable of.

I didn’t know what it would mean for my family, or for George’s sibling relationship with his little brother.

Since then, we have discovered that George has potential that reaches beyond the stars, and that all we have to do is help him get there.

We have discovered that he has a big  heart with an infinite capacity for love, and that he and his brother will be best friends for life.

There are challenges, and I worry about what the future could bring for my boy.

But I believe in him absolutely.

(Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/gsfc/5161800961/. This picture has a creative commons attribution license.)

Filed Under: autism, Believing, Brothers, Children, family, Health Activist Writers Month Challenge, WEGO Health Tagged With: , , , , , , , ,
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Note To Self

April 22, 2012 By

 

I am participating in the Health Activist Writers Month Challenge, in which I publish a post every day for the month of April, based on health-related prompts.

April 22 – The things we forget: Visit http://thingsweforget.blogspot.com/ and make your own version of a short memo reminder. Where would you post it?

A few nights ago I was late getting home from work because of a delay on the subway. This meant that after a day that had already been long and frustrating, I had to compress the evening’s usual chores and and activities into a shorter amount of time. As soon as I got home, I started doing what I needed to do, without giving myself any time to unwind. I efficiently moved from task to task, supervising homework, getting the laundry on, preparing packed lunches for the following day, eating dinner that, thankfully, my husband had already made.

I was stressed about the time, trying to get everything done and still get to bed at a reasonable hour. When the kids were slow to put on their pyjamas, I was a little more brusque with them than I really needed to be. Later, after they were sleeping, I prepared the coffee machine for the morning, as I always do. While I was measuring out the coffee, I accidentally spilled a little bit of it on the kitchen counter.

And I totally lost it. That little bit of spilled coffee turned out to be the straw that broke the camel’s back on that particular day. I didn’t get mad and throw things, but I broke down crying. I sat down and put my head on my desk and just sobbed. For those few minutes that I lost control, the coffee represented the general disarray of my entire life.

When it was all over, I inevitably felt a little foolish. A meltdown over spilled coffee that took all of three seconds to clean up? What was that about?

The truth is that all of my concerns about that evening had been about inconsequential stuff. So what if I was half an hour late getting home? It wouldn’t have been the end of the world if the kids had been fifteen minutes late getting to bed. That load of laundry could have waited until the following day. I could have set up the coffee machine in the morning.

But instead, I allowed myself to get absolutely wound up over things that really didn’t matter. And when you consider all I have to deal with that does matter, that seems counter -productive. Very often I am so overwhelmed by my full-time-job-mom-of-two-with-special-needs-child existence that the slightest things can just feel like a major catastrophe to me.

Sometimes I need a reminder to pick my battles, and avoid getting stressed about things that, when it comes right down to it, have absolutely no bearing on the quality of my life. I need to learn how to let the little things go so I can devote more of my energy to the big things.

And I shouldn’t pet the sweaty stuff, because that’s just gross.

(Photo credit: Kirsten Doyle with a little help from http://wigflip.com/superstickies/)

Filed Under: Health Activist Writers Month Challenge, Letting Go, life, Meltdown, parenting, WEGO Health, Writing Tagged With: , , , , ,
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beauty without limits

April 21, 2012 By

I am participating in the Health Activist Writers Month Challenge, in which I publish a post every day for the month of April, based on health-related prompts.

April 21 – Health madlib poem: Go to http://www.languageisavirus.com/cgi-bin/madlibs.pl and fill in the parts of speech and the site will generate a poem for you. Feel free to post the Madlib or edit it to make it better.

When I read this prompt, I thought it would be easy. It turned out to be a lot more challenging than I had expected. The Madlib gave me a poem that was beautiful in some parts, nonsensical in others. I had to throw out the first couple of attempts, and I finally got something that I could edit into something I could like. As tough as this exercise was, it was a lot of fun. Everyone should give it a try!

quietly i have never run, softly beyond my heart
my son, your smile is full of love
in your most happy tears are things which surprise me,
on which i cannot speak because they are too deep

your beautiful look profoundly will move me
though i have tried to understand
you see things in ways that are beyond me
exploring your world thoughtfully, intensely

your potential reaches the stars and sun
i move my world for you so that you may fly
i cross the ocean for you to know no limits
your path is different and the road is challenging

nothing gets in the way of your growth
the strength of your shy wonder: my child
i smile at the beauty of your blond hair
your blue eyes bright and sparkling with life

i would run to the ends of the world for you
so the world can be yours
you are amazing: son, brother, friend
your heart is pure, your smile lights up the sky

By Kirsten Doyle with a little help from e.e. cummings

Filed Under: autism, Children, Health Activist Writers Month Challenge, life, Love, Poetry, Uncategorized, WEGO Health Tagged With: , , , , , ,
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The Final Rose

March 14, 2012 By

I am at the top of the hill with the humans. The rain that threatened earlier has held off and the sun has come out. I can feel the warmth touching me lightly. The humans cannot see me, but it’s not their fault. They feel my presence, but they do not realize that I still have a physical form, albeit one that has almost faded completely. If they were looking intently through one of the shafts of sunlight, they might just be able to make me out. But even if they could, they might not realize it was me.

I was a human myself until very recently, although my memory of that time is fading fast. I know that this place, and these people, were somehow important to me, but I do not know what my name was or how I left my human form.

One of the humans is talking while the others listen. Some kind of water is leaking out of their eyes. I detect a great deal of sadness in the group and I somehow feel that it has something to do with me. I wish I could comfort them, but I instinctively know that they must find their comfort from one another.

Now the humans are taking turns to take a gray powdery substance out of a little wooden box and scatter it to the winds. I feel a very strong connection with that substance, as strong as the connection I felt a couple of days ago when I saw the body I used to inhabit. Two of the humans are climbing out onto a ledge holding the box. One of them pours the rest of the gray powder under a tree, and the other reverently places the box beside a rock.

What a strange ritual. My memory has dissipated too much for me to understand it, but even though I cannot be seen, I feel as if I am a central element in what is happening.

The humans are starting to make their way down the hill, some more quickly than others. Unseen, I flit between them and among them, catching snippets of conversation as I go. They are taking care of each other, the humans are, making sure everyone gets down the hill safely. I see a woman taking off her hat and tenderly placing it onto the head of an older woman to shield her from the hot sun. I sense a lot of distance among this group. Some of the humans have come from far, far away. Some of them have not seen each other for a long time. Even though my sense of who they are is so vague, I feel unsurpassable happiness at the sight of them together, leaning on one another, supporting one another.

With me in tow, the humans reach a house, and a jolt of crystal-clear memory pierces me. This was my home when I was a human. I lived here for a long, long time. As I look at the woman who had received the hat coming down the hill, the word “sister” floats into my consciousness, along with a sense that we spent a lot of time together in this house. A sense of loss emanates from all of the humans, but none so much as this woman who was my sister. I hope she will be OK. I think she will. Everyone seems to be rallying around her.

The woman who had given my sister the hat wanders off into the garden. I decide to go with her. She walks slowly, stopping now and then to smell a flower or look around her. She cannot see me, but I feel that she knows I am there. I float along beside her for a while, looking at her face that seems to be lined with sadness and her shoulders that slump under the weight of regret. Regret for what, I don’t know.

I feel that I have to give her something, some kind of comfort, but since I left my human form, I have been unable to communicate with the humans. I drift away, in search of some way to leave a message.

I find myself standing among some rose bushes. All of the flowers on them are dead, and for some reason that makes me very sad. These roses must have meant something to me.

All of a sudden, I know what I have to do.

I embrace one of the dead roses, enveloping every part of it with my being. I infuse it with my energy, and I become one with the flower as the petals start to fill with colour.

When the human comes around the corner moments later, she stops as she sees a single red rose in the rose garden. She approaches me and gently touches one of my petals. She inhales deeply as the sweet scent of the flower fills the air.

She knows it’s me. I can tell from the way she stands looking at me for a long time, and from the way she lovingly says goodbye before she turns and walks away.

For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, kgwaite challenged me with “Write a story from the perspective of someone just entering or just about to leave earth (or life).” and I challenged Eric Limer with “Write a story in which social media is the main driving force.”

Filed Under: Afterlife, Death, family, Indie Ink Writing Challenge, life, Loss, Love, Roses, Saying Goodbye Tagged With: , , , , ,
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Moments

February 15, 2012 By

A life can change in the blink of an eye. A missed subway train, time spent looking for car keys, spending ninety seconds to finish the chapter of a book. A fifteen second delay, a chance look at a piece of garbage, a single step in a particular direction. You never know what your “thing” will be – that seemingly insignificant event that ends up changing, taking, or saving your life.

One day just before Christmas, my husband was delayed by about fifteen seconds when leaving a coffee shop. Those fifteen seconds saved his life. Because if he had left on schedule, he would have been right in the path of a car that unexpectedly lost control on the highway.

Many years ago, when my life was in tatters, I accidentally glanced at a piece of scrap paper before tossing it into the garbage can. The advertisement on the piece of paper ultimately led to me travelling to Israel in a trip that changed the course of my life.

Two weeks ago, my aunt took her dogs for a walk. It was a warm sunny day, and she was happy. When she saw a car approaching, she took a single step to avoid it. If she had stepped in one direction, who knows what would have happened? But she stepped in the other direction, and within seconds she was dead.

Life takes us in very unexpected directions. We find that things don’t always happen according to plan. We realize that fate or coincidence – depending on your beliefs – has given us a reprieve, a second shot at life. We suddenly find ourselves winging our way from this world to the next.

We cannot prepare for everything that life throws at us. We can plan for old age, but there’s no guarantee that we will get there, or that our plans will work out if we do. We can resolve to make amends with someone “tomorrow”, only to discover that tomorrow did not come for that person.

There is a message in all of this:

Live your life to be happy because you don’t know how much of it you have.

Love your friends and family hard because things could change at any instant.

Don’t let the sun set on an argument. For some people, it will not rise again.

Take a chance now and then. Don’t grow old regretting opportunities that were missed.

Live for the moment – this moment – because you don’t know what will happen in the next.

Filed Under: Change, Death, Fate, life, Living For The Moment, Moments Tagged With: , , , , ,
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