Loonie Idea - Week Twenty-Two

Please Read, Updated preamble for - ONE LOONEY IDEA - 

In 2006, we began a relationship with Ethiopia that we cannot turn our backs on.  

In Ethiopia, the majority of people build a life with less than a dollar a day. 

A dollar a day does not buy basic necessities.

We all have challenges. 

Impulsivity is a choice of the privileged.  

The privileged have a responsibility to the community. 

PLEASE consider pledging your support to me, through financially supporting the work of Canadian Humanitarian in Ethiopia. My original goal was to get FIFTY people to pledge a dollar a day for the 365 days of this challenge. I'm not sure why, but that doesn't seem to resonate with you--my readers, friends and family. 

Give what you feel you can toward my campaign—no amount is too small, every dollar makes a difference in the life of another—or continue to make a difference through your own chosen channels. The link to my personal pledge page is below.

http://canadianhumanitarian.com/shop/donation/wendys-year-long-challenge/

Betam amisegnalo. 

I might be around 22 or 23 years old in this picture. I am standing with my cousin Kris, at one of our favourite family places--my grandparents lakeside farm. This was a large family reunion in the late 80's. Kris died a short four, or five years later, and he has been missed every day. 

The Two Wolves

One evening, an old Cherokee told his grandson about life, about a battle that goes on inside people.  “A fight is happening inside of me,” he said to the boy. “It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil—it is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego. The other is good—it is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The same fight is going on inside of you—and inside every other person too.”

The grandson thought about it for a minute, and then asked his grandfather, “Which wolf will win?”

The old Cherokee replied, “The one that you feed.”

My life, is like this.  

In the last three decades, every aspect of my life has grown. I worked full time. I bought a dog. I needed a Toyota 4Runner, and then a house. I filled them both with stuff. I got married, and became a bonus parent. We needed a bigger house. My dog died. I bought another one. We had another child; we needed a station wagon, and a bigger house. Another child came, and another; we needed to renovate, and landscape, and renovate. We got a cat. We filled everything with stuff—lots and lots of stuff. The stuff drove me crazy. I needed a place to retreat to. We built a cottage. 

On the surface, It looks like greed, maybe even desire. But if you wade through all of the stuff, there is something else lying at the bottom. 

A need to hustle for a sense of belonging. 

Adult life begins with a vague sense of our value system. Values are based on the environment and people who raised us. So naturally, we have values that serve us well, and others that don’t . . . but are part of us nonetheless. Those values lay a foundation, upon which we pile our living. 

It is not only children who mimic one another. Where we live and who we expose ourselves to affects the habits we develop. Habits can also be formed by intention. Old habits are hard to break, and new habits are hard to form. If we create habits based only on social expectation, we will run headlong into a value clash. We will find ourselves doing things that are contradictory to our foundational values. 

Day by day, we develop habits, ways in which we engage with life. We constantly send and receive messages that may or may not fit our deeper value system. An internal fight ensues. The lips of each wolf curl back to reveal sharp, and dangerous fangs, a low snarl begins, and each raises its hackles—one wolf wants to assert dominance over the other. 

"Who will win?"

Every day, an adult makes tens of thousands of “remotely conscious decisions”. A Time article, entitled, “Making Choices: How Your Brain Decides,” suggests that the brain “relies on two separate networks: one that determines the overall value—the risk versus reward—of individual choices, and another that guides how you ultimately behave.” These are named value-based decision making, and cognitive control. 

Think of the two wolves: when we develop strategies for navigating the world, we can feed our cognitive-based system, while starving the value-based decision limb, or vice versa. Though this is over-simplified, and does not take into account psychiatric conditions that affect the brain, it illustrates a certain harmony between two systems. 

The article says: “The overall control of impulses is split between the two networks […]. When the cognitive control regions are working well, distractions are ignored and behaviors occur in the appropriate context; when valuation is appropriate, choices are made that are likely to be beneficial in the long run. However, when either one of them goes offline, impulsive behaviors get stronger and may not be inhibited.”

Impulsivity is defined as, “a multifactorial construct that involves a tendency to act on a whim, displaying behaviour characterized by little or no forethought, reflection, or consideration of the consequences.” Moreover, when impulsive actions have positive outcomes, they tend not to be seen as signs of impulsivity, but as acts of spontaneity. Take retail therapy for example: it makes you feel good, and on occasion, look good too, garnering you praise from your peers. Or look at buying a snack when you are hungry—the positive outcome: you are no longer hungry, and your whole mood improves. 

I had no idea that impulsivity had pervaded my life. We have the means to support this repetitive habit. When there is no immediate negative outcome, how will I motivate myself to change? 

Let’s look back to DAY ONE. 

“This challenge, for me, is about habits. How long does it take to develop a new habit? It comes down to motivation, which is affected by the emotion that surrounds a behaviour. We have to stop and ask: Why do we do the things we do? […] Habit experts all say some variation of the same thing: start small when making a change. I am not going to do that. Starting today—January 15^th—I am going to be a responsible consumer; I am going to spend an average of one looney a day; and I am going to be a mindful role model for my kids.”

Start small, they said. 

I am embarrassed to say that in week TWENTY-TWO, I cannot measure much change. Over the last two decades, my value-based decision making system has been overfed. I unwittingly subscribed to the “That looks good. I want it. It will make me feel better. I deserve it. I must have it,” dogma. But I am not going to despair, because, in Psychology Today, I read that the “behavioural patterns we repeat most often are literally etched into our neural pathways.” Repetition plus time creates change. There is no way to measure in days what can only be realized in years. 

Moreover, with motivation being the greatest factor in habit change, I need to set some small tangible goals. Very loosely, I have said, “I want to become an intentional consumer.” There is nothing tangible about that; my brain is capable of justifying everything that I purchase or consume. :(

Each day I will walk with the wolves. The one that is fed may be the “successful” one at any given moment, but the reality is that the other wolf does not disappear. Instead, it waits in the shadows for the strong one to falter, or for your attention to shift. Ultimately, the wolves need to work together to create a state of harmony. We need both cognitive and value-based decisions. Attend to both wolves; feed the one you want to win, and extend the arm of compassion to the other. 

One Loonie Idea - Day 160

ONE LOONEY IDEA

In 2006, we began a relationship with Ethiopia that we cannot turn our backs on.  

We don’t really want to turn away, but life became undeniably more DIFFICULT after our first, and consecutive trips. Members of our family were in Ethiopia in ‘06, ’07, ’08, ’09, and ’13. In Ethiopia, the majority of people build a life with less than a dollar a day. A dollar a day does not provide basic necessities. Roughly 39% of Ethiopians live below poverty (<$1.25 USD)—that is over 28 million people. The population of Canada is just over 35 million. 

The world is not equitable. 

***

We all have challenges. At this point in my life I am living with abundance. It doesn’t feel good to continue to accrue treasures when so many live with scarcity. I want to choose something different.

From January 15^th, 2015 – January 14^th, 2016, I am going to spend ONLY a dollar a day (average) for discretionary items.

I will put one loonie into my purse each day. Every time that I want to make a purchase, I will stop and think. I am becoming a thoughtful and responsible consumer, one day at a time—for a lifetime.

You can support me by pledging a dollar a day for any part of my 365 day challenge. The money will go to Canadian Humanitarian, who we have worked with extensively over the past nine years. —Just check out my Pledge Page on the left side bar. 

Betam amisegnalo. 

***

“Mind the Gap” first appeared in 1969 on the London Underground as a warning to passengers to be careful while crossing the gap between the train door and the station platform. It has since been used in popular media: books, movies, advertising, and video games, to refer to the gap in generations, classes, social science and politics to name a few. Recently, while reading “Daring Greatly”, a book I am studying with a group of women and a psychologist, I came upon this phrase. According to author Brené Brown, “Minding the Gap” is a way to remind ourselves to “pay attention to the space between where we’re standing and where we want to be.” 

We are people of values, surrounded by cultural values and other people’s values. Each of us has membership in several cultures: family, work, church, clubs, sports, and so on. Tuning into our own values while respecting the values of others is tricky business. It is a bit like a minefield. When the values we practice are no longer in line with the values we aspire to, there is a gap, and disengagement results. According to Brené Brown, “disengagement is the issue underlying the majority of problems in families, schools, communities, and organizations.”

The economic class where I live has cultural tenets that I have embraced without thought. With my loonie challenge, I am making changes to the practices I have accepted. It is virtually impossible, because the gap between where I stand—privileged—and where I want to be—intentional—is too big to leap over. But, I am still going to train.

Spending a loonie a day goes against values that my community aspires (or ascribes) to. There are those who are uncomfortable with my idea to spend less, and so the gap between us has widened. My personal values no longer mesh with community values. Disengagement becomes a viable option. 

The old adage, “Beat ‘em or join ‘em” doesn’t work here because the personal cost of living with misaligned values is too high. 

I am not directly asking anyone to change their lives. This is my journey, and I have my reasons. I have even stopped expecting my immediate family members to embrace this loonie idea. They are all back to doing and getting what they want. 

Am I disappointed? Maybe a little bit. 

But, I can only look at my own value gap, and shorten the distance between the values I am practicing, and the values I am striving toward. And in so doing this thing, one loonie at a time, a bridge will be built, forever connecting me with my inner compass, if I should get lost again. 

Ethiopia, 2006

We pulled away from the guesthouse, rounded the first corner and stopped at Bole Street. Three, or four lanes of traffic chaotically assembled on each side of an imaginary divide, not exhibiting any sense of order. Locals walked haltingly through the maze, avoiding predator-like vehicles. The sound of horns blared for the right-of-way, and the smell of gasoline poisoned the air. 

Our driver paused, and I glanced out the window. A small boy with brown, honey-tinged curls ran toward the van. “Ferenge, ferenge,” he cried out. I did not yet know this word, but I knew he referred to us. He cupped his hands into the shape of a bowl, and held them out. He wore only a t-shirt; scrawny legs stuck out like popsicle sticks. Behind him, propped against a concrete wall, sat a woman wrapped in lengths of fabric. A baby slept across her lap; its head hung over her leg as if on a broken hinge; its rib cage rose and fell with a stilted rhythm. The mother caught my eye, and she reached her hand toward me. 

I looked away. 

We pulled into traffic. Our driver moved through the milieu like a practiced chess player. Each time the van stopped, hands, leathered and dusty-grey, reached through the window to touch and implore me to help. One sold tissues, another gum, but most were reaching in hoping to fill their hands with aluminum or copper coins, bread to sustain them for another day. I saw young children, mothers carrying babies in slings, and others that had physical disabilities: blind, missing a limb, or unable to walk at all, scuttling across the asphalt like insects. “Please missus”.

I closed my window. 

The greatest gift of experience is knowledge. 

What one does with the knowing is the pivotal moment. 

Not knowing is no longer an option. 

One Looney Idea - Day 146

If you are new to ONE LOONEY IDEA, read below, otherwise, jump down to the picture.

In 2006, we began a relationship with Ethiopia that we cannot turn our backs on.  

We don’t really want to turn away, but life became undeniably more DIFFICULT after our first, and consecutive trips. Members of our family were in Ethiopia in ‘06, ’07, ’08, ’09, and ’13. In Ethiopia, the majority of people build a life with less than a dollar a day. A dollar a day does not provide basic necessities. Roughly 39% of Ethiopians live below poverty (<$1.25 USD)—that is over 28 million people. The population of Canada is just over 35 million. 

The world is not equitable. 

***

We all have challenges. At this point in my life I am living with abundance. It doesn’t feel good to continue to accrue treasures when so many live with scarcity. I want to choose something different.

From January 15^th, 2015 – January 14^th, 2016, I am going to spend ONLY a dollar a day (average) for discretionary items.

I will put one loonie into my purse each day. Every time that I want to make a purchase, I will stop and think. I am becoming a thoughtful and responsible consumer, one day at a time—for a lifetime.

You can support me by pledging a dollar a day for any part of my 365 day challenge. The money will go to Canadian Humanitarian, who we have worked with extensively over the past nine years. —Just check out my Pledge Page on the left side bar. 

Betam amisegnalo. 

***

The Daily Dollar

The loonie idea isn’t going very well. Bankruptcy looms large when dealing with a jar full of coins.

I have not handled the circumstances outside of my control with the constraint I imagined I possessed. I have a couple of valid excuses: our daughter was admitted to the hospital, and then our dog got acutely ill and needed to be admitted to a veterinary hospital. But everyone has circumstances outside of their control. I thought I could be mock poor, and make the kind of choices that a woman in Ethiopia might have to make. However, stress drops us to a default position, a place that evolved due to economics and demographics. Adequate health care isn’t a reality in many parts of the world, and pets are a privilege that many cannot enjoy—how can I really compare?

Something happened during this time. I hadn’t emotionally recovered from one hospital admission and discharge, when I found myself filling out paperwork for another. 

After dropping my furry companion Abby off at the Veterinary Hospital, I went in search of a coffee shop, so I could sit and write.  Abby became sick just four days earlier, maybe life-threateningly sick. She spent a night in the hospital because of prolonged vomiting and subsequent dehydration. She spent a couple of days at home, but wouldn’t eat or drink and seemed uncomfortable. I took her back for more diagnostic testing.

My head definitely hung low as I got out of my van and walked toward the coffee shop to wait for the call from the vet. A man, seated on an upturned milk crate, said, “Good morning, how are you?” “I’m fine,” I said, and hurried to the parking machine. While I stood at the meter I realized I had not asked him how he was. I should go back, I thought. I wondered if he was homeless. I sighed, and walked away.

In the coffee shop, I found a seat by the window and cupped my warm mug—a leaf pattern swayed in the frothed milk atop my coffee. I thought about Abby, and stared out the window. I’m not ready for her to die, I thought. I opened my laptop, and stared at the screen. Nothing. No inspiration. My gaze moved over the monitor and back out the window. Across the street, “milk-crate man” sat in the same spot, smoking. He drew air from his cigarette as if it was life sustaining. I need to go back and ask him how he is. I stood up to go, but I had already spread my writing implements across the table, and my hot coffee implored me to stay. I sat down.

I watched him as a character in a play. His quiet movements—the lift and fall of his hunched shoulders, the smoke of his cigarette rising like a signal, his hand floating to his mouth, and the slow draw of tobacco-steeped air—mesmerized me. I studied him for a few more minutes. I looked around the packed coffee shop, wondering if someone could watch my stuff, if I left briefly. No. I slid my computer into its case, grabbed my purse and walked out, leaving my coffee and notepad on the table. I strode across the crosswalk, and stood in front of him. “Hello again,” I said. He looked up at me, quizzically. Clearly I had not been on his mind. 

“You asked me how I was awhile ago, and I did not ask you how you were,” I said. 

“Actually, I’m not doing too well,” he said.

“I had a feeling,” I said.

His words constricted in his throat as he told me he had recently become homeless. I listened for the next several minutes to part of his story. I conveyed to him some understanding of his hardship, even though I had never exactly suffered in this way. Becoming homeless, and staying at a shelter was a significant failing for him. He found it hard to be with others whose suffering was of a different magnitude than his. He told me about many who are addicted, and many who are not “right in their heads”. He felt uneasy being there.

“Is there something that I can do for you today that would make your day a bit better?” I asked.

“You could get me a burger. I’m pretty hungry.”

“Easy,” I replied.

I learned about the line-ups at night for food. Most nights they run out of food, he’d said, before all of the people are fed. I could not fathom it. Right then, my phone rang. I recognized the number of the animal hospital, so I excused myself and answered. They had found a mass on my dog's spleen, free fluid around the intestines, and inflammation of the wall of the stomach. They wanted permission to take some samples for the lab to analyze. “What are the possible diagnoses?” I asked. Cancer, or severe inflammation, they said. When I ended the call, “milk crate man” asked me if my dog was going to be okay. I said that I didn’t know. He said he was sorry. I believed him. “Isn’t it odd,” I said, “you have recently become homeless, and right here—in the same city—I am worried about whether my dog is going to live.” He nodded.

I put out my hand, “My name is Wendy.” He shook it, “I’m Daryl.” We talked for a while longer. I learned about Daryl’s family, I wondered if he had anyone who could help him out at this time. His partner of nineteen years had recently died. He is fifty-six years old, has arthritis and is limited in what he can physically do. He needs medicines that he can’t afford. He picks through garbage looking for bottles every day, until his body gives out on him. “Praying keeps me sane,” he said, and he tapped the side of his head with his index finger.

“How about if I help you collect bottles, in my own neighbourhood.” I said, "Would that be helpful?” 

“Where do you live?” he asked.

“Edgemont.”

“No, I could never make it there.”

“I will collect bags of bottles, and bring them here to you,” I offered.

“That would be great,” he said with tears in his eyes.

“Okay, Daryl I will see you again later this week, and I will have some bottles for you.”

I bought him a burger, and when we parted, I held his hand and wished him well. He took my hand, and kissed it. 

***

 On that day, I had an epiphany. 

One loonie idea isn’t about the daily dollar. It is about making change, being intentional, opening our eyes to others in the world. Approaching Daryl, something I would not normally do, created an opportunity for me to envision something different. It provided me a chance to step toward someone who suffered alongside of me. There is no scale to measure human suffering; no one is immune to it. But together, we will bear our own circumstances with more lightness and grace.  

I am not amazing for this act of kindness. It is by moments, the world, and you, and all of us that are amazing. Together change happens. 

Post-Script:
Our dog Abby came home with some medications and a special diet. No cancerous cells showed up. She is recovering.
I sent a note out to my 'village' of women to help me collect bottles for Daryl. Within two days, our garage filled with fourteen garbage bags of recyclables, plus a $20 gift card, which I will take down in batches over the coming weeks.

Loonie Idea - Day 127

ONE LOONEY IDEA

In 2006, we began a relationship with Ethiopia that we cannot turn our backs on.  

We don’t really want to turn away, but life became undeniably more DIFFICULT after our first, and consecutive trips. Members of our family were in Ethiopia in ‘06, ’07, ’08, ’09, and ’13. In Ethiopia, the majority of people build a life with less than a dollar a day. A dollar a day does not provide basic necessities. Roughly 39% of Ethiopians live below poverty (<$1.25 USD)—that is over 28 million people. The population of Canada is just over 35 million. 

The world is not equitable. 

***

We all have challenges. At this point in my life I am living with abundance. It doesn’t feel good to continue to accrue treasures when so many live with scarcity. I want to choose something different.

From January 15^th, 2015 – January 14^th, 2016, I am going to spend ONLY a dollar a day (average) for discretionary items.

I will put one loonie into my purse each day. Every time that I want to make a purchase, I will stop and think. I am becoming a thoughtful and responsible consumer, one day at a time—for a lifetime.

You can support me by pledging a dollar a day for any part of my 365 day challenge. The money will go to Canadian Humanitarian, who we have worked with extensively over the past nine years. —Just check out my Pledge Page on the left side bar. 

Betam amisegnalo. 

***

Water you thinking?

October 2013

Our large group of Canadian Humanitarian volunteers left the tan stucco centre in Gindo, and headed along a dusty road. A mountain loomed in the distance, bearing witness to this changing landscape. We entered a large fenced area and walked down a narrow ditch, worn away by long ago rains. The earth, a cow-hide red stained our white socks and ankles. Down at the bottom of the hill, cows grazed, oblivious to the enhancements taking place above them. 

We could have been anywhere. The visual beauty camouflaged the struggle of this rural Ethiopian village. The poverty and the dry beaten land contrasted sharply with the sculptured rows and tidy crops within the farming project. A fence separated what was, and what could be. A transformation occurred. 

On previous trips, volunteers dug a well, and installed a pump inside the gated farm. Prior to that, the long walk to fill water jugs prevented irrigation of crops, which limited planting to certain seasons and specific produce. On our trip, a drip irrigation system was installed. It would mean that crops, like tomatoes, that needed a regular water source could be grown. Near to the centre a market had been erected, and the produce from this CH project generated income, and pride. 

Neither Ward nor I worked on the irrigation system. Yohannes did. Drip irrigation provides farmers the most efficient way to grow crops in water scarce areas, but historically it has been too expensive for small-plot farmers. The system worked on gravity, so the volunteers first built a wooden tower for the water barrel to sit upon. They used their physical strength, along with a variety of hand tools purchased in Addis Ababa. Over three days they laboured in the hot sun. At the end of the third day, our group walked into the field again for the first run of water through the system. One of the forefathers pumped the well, and ten-year-old Yohannes filled a bucket with water. He carried it over to the base of the tower. He climbed the ladder and poured the water into a large blue barrel. Keith, the primary planner, turned a valve at the bottom of the barrel. The water ran down a set of tubes to several different gardens. In each row, lines of perforated hose lay waiting. As fluid ran down the lines, tiny water drops pushed through the holes, and disappeared into the soil.

April, 2015 

I heard a story on Alberta at Noon (A@N) about a Saskatchewan business banning the sale of bottled water. Most of us don’t know when or why bottled water became a lifestyle accessory. The CBC story prompted me to do a little research, and for reasons I cannot fully articulate, it has created a cascade of emotion. 

Here is some of what I found out: 

Since water is integral to human survival, transporting it has been a part of human life since early civilization. However, the production of bottled water didn’t begin until the 17^th C when spa and water therapy gained recognition in improving one’s health. Bottled water became a safer alternative to tap water in the 18^th C when contamination with cholera and typhoid occurred, and hundreds of people died. Water chlorination in the late 1800’s, reduced concerns about safety. A chasm developed between Europe and United States; whereby bottled water spread in Europe and declined in USA. In 1977, a successful campaign by Perrier led to a rebirth of bottled water as a luxury item in the States. 

Today, it is the second most consumed bottled beverage, after soft drinks, and above milk, and beer. 

Fill your kettle with some tap water, steep a large cup of tea, and pause and ponder the realities of our living.

-  780 million people (1 in 9) do not have access to safe drinkable water. 37% of those live in Subsaharan Africa. The jerry can used to transport water weighs over forty pounds when full, and women and children carry them for many miles.

- One in five deaths of children under five is due to water-related disease.

- Bottled water is a safe alternative where there is limited access to potable water.

- 41 billion gallons of bottled water are consumed every year around the world. 2.4 billion litres in Canada. 

- The average price for a single litre of bottled water is $2.50. That is almost four times more expensive than gasoline! Alternatively, tap water costs around 1/10^th of a cent per litre. 

"Branding and bottling of water where there already exists a wholesome and safe supply of drinking water cannot be seen as a sustainable use of natural resources.” (Nick Reeves, executive director of the Chartered Institution of Water and Environmental Management.)

- Bottled water “plays into our ever-growing laziness and impatience. [It] fills a perceived need for convenience.” (Elizabeth Royte, author of “Bottlemania”) 

- The health and safety benefits from bottled water are debatable. 

The Natural Resources Defense Council carried out a four-year review of the bottled water industry, and concluded "there is no assurance that just because water comes out of a bottle, it is any cleaner or safer than water from the tap."

- Convenience has infested our lives with parasitic fluidity. What are the environmental costs?

- PET (polyethylene terepthalate) is made using fossil fuels, which are a finite resource.

- Energy is required to produce and transport plastic water bottles, often from another continent.

- Carbon dioxide is a by-product of plastic production.

- Water is required in the production process. Some estimate that 2-3 times as much water is used, as goes into the bottle. 

- Improper disposal/recycling is creating unnecessary garbage.

We use water filters in our home—for purported health reasons I have never bothered to research. We use reusable glass, plastic and metal bottles. And, YES! we have purchased plastic water bottles when lack of planning creates an “emergency”. Convenience becomes a commodity, for those who can afford it. 

We have fallen victim to the just-is culture, and neglected our responsibilities toward justice.

The loonie challenge year for me is about examining habits. Spending is one of those habits, and consumption is another. What if I re-allocated our yearly filter funds toward a program that provided clean, safe drinking water for a community that did not have access? Wouldn’t that be a wiser investment in our future, not just from a human life perspective, but also from an environmental view? I think that it does make a difference walking a day in someone else’s shoes. 

Carolyn Torhjelm, with Free the Children, in Kenya - 2013

RESPECT: "On this day, I shared the water walk with Barbara. We were a team. But the reality was we were sharing the job. Together, we carried a 50-pound jug full of water up the hill one km. Most Kenyan women do this 4-5 times a day!"

One Hundred Day Celebration

When my kids were in kindergarten, they celebrated their one hundredth day of school by bringing in a bag of 100 items. We carefully counted out the items the night before. 

Laurèn took Cheerios, Yohannes took buttons.  

I have been doing the Loonie challenge for one hundred days. 

What is the significance of the number 100?

- It reinforces counting skills, and the concept of time and days. 

- Most money systems are divided into 100 parts.

- 100 is the basis for the percentage system.

- It is the sum of the first nine prime numbers. Who knew?

- It is found in religion, dreams, politics, architecture, science, and more. 

- It is a number symbolizing a whole, which is itself only part of a greater totality.

It hasn’t been a “clean” hundred days. Life is running me over, and undermining my ability to be the best of myself, and to plan and prepare. Having said that, I have already learned some things 

. . . about a hundred things. Shall I bore you with all 100? Here are my top ten:

1. Spending so little is not fun . . . creative, but not fun.

2. A number of people have had a hard time adapting to my challenge, and that has made me feel guilty.

3. I used to buy a number of unnecessary things.

4. I am more than the sum of my possessions. In fact, my possessions are an expression, so what do I want to say?

5. Using hunger, sadness, exhaustion, or disorganization as a reason to spend irresponsibly are all cop-outs to dealing with the issue at hand.

6. Food is just food.

7. Stuff is just stuff.

8. $5.00 for three hours of uninterrupted writing is pretty cheap rent.

9. It is hard to ask others to support me in this challenge. 

10. Being an intentional consumer is hard. 

Recently, I picked up some things we needed at Staples. Home Sense is right next door. I walked in and meandered lazily through the store. I found what I wasn’t looking for in one of the eye-catching displays. A tall cylinder-shaped floor lamp, thicker around the middle, made of gauzy linen material. It would create the perfect ambiance in our quiet room. Must have it. I leaned over and flipped the price tag up—$100.00. I am proud to say that I walked out, not only because that was a ridiculous price for metal wrapped in gauze, but also because it clearly fell outside the boundary of necessary. 

Retail therapy, and especially things that I can put in my home to make me feel good, is one of my coping mechanisms. Over the past two weeks, I have desperately needed some retail therapy. It has taken strength to resist. 

At this hundred-day junction, I am in need of a show of support. Here is the 100-day challenge I would like you to contemplate. 

Imagine a bag of 100 loonies. 

Multiply the 100 loonies by a percentage that you can afford to donate—at this moment. 

Take that percentage out of the bag. 

Go to my pledge page--just click on the picture of ME below, and donate a portion of the whole. 

It Takes A Village

It takes a village to raise a child. 

Each child is a blessing bestowed upon the community. 

All blessings come with burdens;

therefore, the burdens too, must be shared by the village. 

A part of my village...

One component of a Canadian Humanitarian expedition is the participation in home visits. The interaction has many purposes. CH advisors, directors and volunteers listen to the concerns of the families and communities whose children are influenced by the programs. Being present affirms to those impacted that they are important and worthwhile. It cultivates hope, which gives them the strength to continue when challenges arise. Moreover, when people come together, it creates an opportunity for all to see the world in a different way, and to contemplate new ways of being. 

During the February 2008 CH expedition, I participated in several home visits. We walked from home to home through urban villages in Addis Ababa, where the sponsored children live with their guardians. As we trekked, our group multiplied. Community members walked alongside, down narrow stone-laid passages, or sprawling dirt roads—curious, yes, but supportive and engaging too. The sun reflected upon smiles and tears alike to reveal a certain kind of glory. It created—for me—the best and the worst memories.

Lunch prepared for us while visiting the "crisis intervention" house. Feb. '08

Surrounded by children, all along our visits. 

Pride and hope, the outcomes of support for many...but not all.

February 15, 2008

 Toward the end of our home visits, we arrive at Hannah’s home, where she lives with her grandmother and two of her cousins. The setayat, in her fifties, has aged prematurely because of life and loss. The home stands in a long row of “paper-mâché” houses, with dirt floors and a sheet of plastic overhead. If I stretch my arms fully, I will puncture the paper wall, and wave at the neighbours. The packed dirt floor swept clean during this dry season, weeps during the rains. A small raised bed, running almost end to end, gives us a place to sit during our visit. 

Hannah’s setayat has little opportunity to work, no steady income, no kitchen, or food pantry for the family she gained after the loss of her adult children. When she can, she makes injera, and cleans houses. On those days, she makes five birr a day (less than fifty cents). She needs Hannah to care for the younger children, beg on the streets, or find work. However, Hannah was accepted into the Kid’s Hope program when they expanded a year ago. Grandma shows weariness, and worry, but also determination and pride. She cries as she speaks of the days that she cannot feed her family at all, and she grows taller when she shares her gratitude toward Canadian Humanitarian. The joys and struggles face off against each other. Challenge triumphs momentarily and the small room seems to deflate, like a leaky balloon. 

Last, we follow Mekdes. She is the sponsored child of my in-laws; she leads us quietly down dirt roads lined with metal gates and flowing vines of delicate purple flowers. Mekdes lives with her setayat. This home, a sturdy mud structure, reveals a period of abundance with couches, a shelving unit, and a refrigerator. The grandmother paces as she listens to the greetings, and purpose of our visit. We have learned that she plans to take fourteen-year-old Mekdes out of the program. She leans against the wall farthest from us. Her voice a raspy whisper due to poor health, rises and falls just as her bony ribcage moves with her breath. She will not sit, or join us. We learn that Mekdes’ two aunts recently moved out, and life has become exceedingly difficult. They provided income as well as helping with shopping and chores. The aunts have not been good role models for Mekdes because they both work as prostitutes. Mekdes, at risk of following this same fate, remains silent and steady. 

  As grandma rants, and pleads for something more, her voice gives out and her head falls forward. One in our group wonders why we can’t give her money. Money does not promote sustainable living. However, supporting her health seems an appropriate way to help. The CH director communicates this idea, and then pleads with her, “This program is a chance for Mekdes to have a different future . . . for a better life, please do not remove her.”  Grandma relents; Mekdes can continue with her studies, for today.

***

Mekdes, seen here in 2008, is under the arm of Dr. Richard Northcott (co-founder). As of October 2013, she had graduated from school, and Kid's Hope, and taken extra training in the service industry of hotels and restaurants, and had a job. 

Within these ancient civilizations, the village is the base unit of existence. Daily life requires all members to participate for the well-being of the group. On most days they walk long distances to get food, water, wood, and coal, and often to the market to sell what they can gather. When one prospers, they all benefit, and when suffering occurs, they typically stand together. 

The village did not arrive at some point in history. It has always existed. Humans are meant to rely on one another. It is only recently that many in the developed world have severed the links between families of geographic or familial relationship, abandoning the village. We think we can make it on our own.  

***

As I stand on the outer rim of family crisis (yes, right now), I wonder…how can I continue with One Loonie Idea? Feeling the ropes of turmoil tighten around me—it’s hard to breathe, let alone plan, prepare, and perform. I ask myself, what would a woman in Ethiopia do if she were facing similar circumstances?

The answer is clear. She would turn to the village. 

I am one amongst many. Who have suffered. Hardship. 

Although we do not share the same journey, all of us are connected through feelings associated with experience. I ask, is there any one who has not experienced the sadness of loss? Do you know the angst that is saddled to helplessness? Can you relate to the disappointment of expectations not being met? When life throws you into chaos and struggle, can you avoid the anger and rage of a situation that doesn’t feel fair? 

I think we are the same amidst our differences. 

A sage in my village wrote me the following words this week, and I want to share them with you. 

Wendy, "Let me begin by saying that your life is an incredible journey - incredible doesn’t mean easy, nevertheless, incredible. Right now, Faven isn’t able to appreciate all the support she has been (and will continue to be) given, as her life thus far has also been an incredible journey.” 

Thank you for this HR.

Day Ninety

New to - ONE LOONEY IDEA - read below, otherwise skip down to the picture. :)

In 2006, we began a relationship with Ethiopia that we cannot turn our backs on.  

We don’t really want to turn away, but life became undeniably more DIFFICULT after our first, and consecutive trips. Members of our family were in Ethiopia in ‘06, ’07, ’08, ’09, and ’13. In Ethiopia, the majority of people build a life with less than a dollar a day. A dollar a day does not provide basic necessities. Roughly 39% of Ethiopians live below poverty (<$1.25 USD)—that is over 28 million people. The population of Canada is just over 35 million. 

The world is not equitable. 

***

We all have challenges. At this point in my life I am living with abundance. It doesn’t feel good to continue to accrue treasures when so many live with scarcity. I want to choose something different.

From January 15^th, 2015 – January 14^th, 2016, I am going to spend ONLY a dollar a day (average) for discretionary items.

I will put one loonie into my purse each day. Every time that I want to make a purchase, I will stop and think. I am becoming a thoughtful and responsible consumer, one day at a time—for a lifetime.

You can support me by pledging a dollar a day for any part of my 365 day challenge. The money will go to Canadian Humanitarian, who we have worked with extensively over the past nine years. —Just check out my Pledge Page on the left side bar. 

Betam amisegnalo. 

***

Grade Five - nine years old.

School Patrol - 1975, nine years old.

Soap and Water

Gindo, a rural area of Ethiopia, is severely affected by lack of water, food, and education, and has a high incidence of disease. Desperation floated upon the air, invisible but detectable, like humidity. We visited Gindo on the Canadian Humanitarian expedition in October 2013. A long-time CH supporter and expedition volunteer named Vern stared out of the window as we approached the brand new education centre; his eyes leaked, and his face quivered. 

In May of 2012, Vern, along with five other middle-aged, energetic, compassionate individuals began a “Chain Reaction” bike ride across Canada. Along their way, they raised awareness for CH, and collected funds to build the education centre in Gindo. The inspiration for the "Chain Reaction" ride began with Vern.

The fifty children from the CH program, waited for us. We arrived sporting Ray Ban's, Maui Jim's, Nike, Merrel, and Columbia. They stood in plastic shoes, white shirts dusted with red earth and missing buttons, tangled hair, and an odour that could curl the hairs of one's nostrils. The air pulsed with excitement as they prepared for the official opening ceremony. Indeed, yesterday there was a noisy, rust-colored ox tied to the fence; today, not even the rope remained. Instead, there were mounds of cut up meat as the women worked to prepare a meal, in our honour. 

After the ceremony, before eating, we washed at a long trough outside, with clear but contaminated water and soap.

A loonie a day.

There are obstacles to change. What is getting in my way?

Your beliefs become your thoughts, 

Your thoughts become your words, 

Your words become your actions, 

Your actions become your habits, 

Your habits become your values, 

Your values become your destiny.”

—Mahatma Gandhi

The starting point is the thought. My thoughts—I can’t do it…I don’t want to do it…I don’t have to do it…it’s stupid—cause me to stay in the ruts on the road. It’s hard to make positive change when stuck.
Over the last decade, I cultivated the habit of buying in excess of what we need. I never thought I’d be an accumulator. I have modest roots. I like order and organization. Clutter immobilizes me. I cannot cook supper until the kitchen is cleaned. I prefer simplicity. And yet, embracing indulgence became so common that I saw it as ordinary, and necessary. And if not necessary—deserved. Somehow the wrongs in my life could be righted through the purchase of latté’s, clothes, home decor, books, journals, writing pens, bedding-out plants, lunches, and 9-ounce glasses of Pinot Grigio.
I didn’t see it . . . until now. Instead, I felt the discontent of not aligning myself with my inner compass. I veered off course, but stayed there long enough that it became a worn trail.

I follow three generations of women who live and lived without grandeur.
My great grandmother, already in her seventies when I was born, focused on family and community. Everyone knew “Grama Great” for her generosity of spirit, contagious chuckle, modest and welcoming home, fresh baked cookies, and the perfect blossoming cherry tree. I loved the fact that the moment we arrived, we became a part of the neighbourhood, and had rousing games of “kick the can”. I loved eating home baked goods for breakfast in the tiny kitchen nook that overlooked Grama Great’s rose garden.
Her daughter, my Grama, lived in Saskatchewan and farmed full time with my Grampa. We spent long summer days on their farm at Last Mountain Lake, surrounded by cousins, and acres of unmarked land. If farm life looked simple and routine to my childhood eyes, my grandmother was anything but. An intellect, she could converse on any topic; a musician, she graced the piano with strong fingers and steady tones; and a caretaker, she built a large family, and looked after them with seeming ease. She had a regal quality to her that could not be diminished regardless of dress, or circumstances.
My mother, just seventy, has the same shining white hair as me, with an exquisite and inviting smile. Loving and kind, she possesses an edge of no-nonsense, and therefore commands attention. She continues to be able to get my children to work alongside of her better than anyone else. Like the two generations of women before her, she is a gifted musician. Her voice lifts high, rings clear, and brings joy to so many. Our car trips to the coast to see Grama Great, or to Saskatchewan to visit my grandparents farm were filled with many rounds of song. My mom, a tireless support to my siblings and I, never gives up, even when the challenges make it difficult to get out of bed. Her commitment to family—her legacy—inspires me to show up in my life, and be my best self, and to forgive the shitty moments.

All of these women had age spots; it is one thing that I share with them. The culture today encourages blemish-free, flawless living. I have been “counselled” time and time again by well-meaning friends and acquaintances to try various procedures to get rid of the spots—especially as they have become prominent on my face. I have used lotions claiming to lighten them, but the result has been a plethora of expensive products, and little difference to my skin. My grandmothers had access to one cleansing product . . . soap and water. The blotches of unmatched skin connect me to a depth and strength of spirit possessed by three remarkable women. And I am going to accept my flaws, and commit to living with what I need, not what society demands.

I can do it,
 . . . with soap and water. 

Sister Tobi with Grama, Grama Great in the middle, and Mom with me. 

5 Generations: Grama Great, Grama, Mom, Tobi and Kierla

Fun scene from the "farm". My mom is to the left of Grama Great, and I am on her knee.

My mom, with her grandson - Dayn. 

Mom, Grama and Me