Canadians, we are deluding ourselves

Not only is this woman's designed-and-made-in-Canada bathing suit a thing of the past, so too is this Canadian woman's figure. This 1945 ad shows a Vancouver woman, Yvonne de Carlo, modelling a cutting-edge bathing suit with new fabric (prior, women's bathing suits were made of heavy water-absorbing wool). The bathing suit was designed by two other B.C. women, Rose Marie Reid (design), and Marianne McCrea McClain (textile).
This Canadian man enjoying the summer sun in Montreal is also not how most Canadian men look, either. As a just released poll on Canadians' perceptions of their health shows, Canadians think they are lean, fit, and healthy but in fact 2/3 of Canadians are overweight and 20% are obese. Just as Canadians have deluded themselves that our national identity is that of a peacemaker (in fact, we are profiteering from waging war in Afghanistan and training police and security forces in Haiti, the West Bank, and Afghanistan), so too have we deluded ourselves that we are in shape, healthy and active.
This photo is more reflective of the average Canadian bodies today, as we eat more than we move. While there are lots of social and economic reasons for rising weights, inactivity, poor eating, and unhealthiness, one of the contributing factors to our delusion of thinking we are in shape and physically active when in fact we are overweight and sedentary, is the lie of the images on tv and other visual media. The bodies of people on TV and movies do not mirror us back to ourselves. They show illusions, simulacra, as if all men and women and teenagers and children are thin and lean.

'The Biggest Burger in Canada'

The Adversary: 9 lb. Hamburger

Where to Slay It: Blondie's Restaurant -- Winnipeg, Manitoba

word of inspiration: listen

On New Year's Eve, in my kitchen as I was making a pot of tea with dried rose petals that my sister-in-law, Zeina, gave me before I left Lebanon this summer, sprigs of fresh lavender from the garden planter I brought into the house before the night frosts, and a bag of bramble and strawberry leaves and linden flowers, my sister was telling me that rather than a New Year's Resolution, the buzz on blogs was about having a one word inspiration to set the course for your creative and spiritual focus for the coming year.

"Oh," I immediately said, "I know my word. My word is LISTEN."

From my red 1969 Webster's Dictionary:

list, [Original form of listen, which is a lengthened form from A.Sax. hlystan, to listen, from hlyst, hearing, like Icel. hlusta, to listen, from hlust, an ear, allied to A.Sax. hlosnian, to hear; W. clust, an ear; L. cluo, Gr. kluo, to hear; and to E. loud.] To hearken; to attend; to listen--listen, lis'n. To attend to closely with a view to hear; to give ear; to hearken.

Here is my list of 10 things to Listen to, although I am sure that Listen will bring me what I need to Listen to, unasked and unexpected. Nevertheless, as a start to listening, here is my list for Listen:

1. listen to what someone is saying. Without interrupting. Without distractions. Without multi-tasking. Without trying to make him or her feel better. Without telling him or her what my opinion is on it. Just listen with intent to another person voicing what she or he wants to say.

2. listen to what other people are not saying. Listen to their silences. Listen to long pauses between words. Listen to what is left unsaid. Accept the silence. Let the silence be. Attend to silence.

3. listen to the rustle of birds' wings as they fly overhead; listen to the winter chirping of purple finches, chickadees, and sparrows; listen to the croak of crows; listen to the many trickster callings of starlings.

4. listen to my inner voice of wisdom. Listen when she speaks as a young girl. Listen when she speaks as an old woman. Listen when she scolds. Listen when she guides. Listen when she speaks from a place of experience. Listen when she speaks from joy. Listen when she laughs. Listen when she howls like a wolf. Listen when she twitches her ears like a rabbit.

5. listen to elderly Finnish Canadian people speaking Finnish.

6. listen to poems, to the sudden breath-stopping surprises unleashed from their words

7. listen to random phrases: baby cardinals; begin to write; dress myself with snow; open the window; stirring the stars; it's nearly night again; begin recording your dreams; visited by owls; moon like a canoe; shedding pink petals

8. listen to things that are not normally seen as speaking to us: trees, a street, clouds, the river flowing under the ice, the haunted moaning of the ice by the lake shore, dog paws padding on packed snow, the squirrel munching a maple key, the wind creeping through cracks in this old house; the snow, drifting

9. listen to curiosity when she comes by. Listen to her when she comes dressed as an old Italian man who lives alone with hummingbirds in his front porch, pigeons in his eaves, and tears in his eyes.

10. listen to breath.

a New Year's Day walk

I love the slant of my town. A slice of the city meets the slope of Hillcrest Park as an old apple tree leans backwards, permanently bent by the wind, with Lake Superior in the background disappearing into a calming blue horizon. That small black dot on the hill? A young sledder braving the -24c windchill on the first day of 2011. What better way to celebrate the new day than whizzing down a hill on a thin round disc?
Looking up that same hill towards the apple trees. A father, his daughter, and their dog walked up from the Bay Street neighbourhood, climbed to the top of the snowy slope, and as the father and daughter flew down the hill, their dog raced up and down the snow in a frenzy of glee.
Walking towards the south end of the lookout, I passed a row of cars idling their engines as their occupants gazed out towards the lake. In the distance, you can see the one tall building we have downtown: Waverley Park Towers.
The old bell at the crest of the hill. It was gleaming in the cold. I had on my new double layer long johns that my mother gave me for Christmas, gloves with mitts on top, my fake fur hat made in Canada, a fleece scarf, and my daughter's hand-me-down red down-filled jacket, so I was toasty.
My camera, however, was not. It stopped working shortly after I took this photo. Standing in front of the bell, I snapped this photo of the old part of town. The white street running down towards the lake on the left is Bay Street. What I like about my town is that there are next-to-no tall buildings.

the stuff that Finnish women make

Earlier this month, I was invited to a Christmas party planned by my friend, Satu, for some of her Finnish-speaking female friends. With her daughter, Shanthi, Satu has recently opened a new dance and yoga studio, Academy Afrah and Shanthi Om Studio, and the party was held at their studio on a Saturday night before Christmas. Satu and Shanthi had thought up a beautiful table setting for the middle of the floor, with comfy yoga cushions for seats.
The rules of the evening were that guests could only speak Finnish the entire night. I loved this challenge! Also, we each had to bring some typical Finnish food to share for the potluck. It didn't take me too long to decide what to bring: I brought the bottle above filled with my home-made likööri made from my deep purple garden grapes, some sugar, and a bottle of Finlandia vodka. Everyone tried a tippa (drop), even those who normally don't drink alcohol. Who could pass up this organic, full of anti-oxidants delicious elixir? that every Finnish woman should know how to make? ...using her own berries, of course. I followed the directions my aunt Aulikki gave me. She made hers from tyyrni marjat (sea buckthorn berries). The northern concord grapes that grow in my garden are my special northern Ontario touch to this traditional Finnish liquid.
I also brought a tȁyte kakku, a whipped cream cake filled with strawberry cream and topped with fruit. Of course, neither kiwis and peaches are grown in Finland, but that's my multicultural touch to this traditional cake. Some of the other food included turnip casserole, beet and carrot salad, piirakka, meatballs, piparit (cookies) and Christmas tarts (joulu tortut).
Satu had set up a Finnish-style Christmas tree, which for us Finnish-Canadians means sparse branches and simple, natural decorations. It is the opposite of the traditional Canadian Christmas tree that is often colour-coded, laden with matching elaborate (and expensive) decorations, and often artificial. Later in the evening, some of the women hopped around the tree with their index fingers pointing to the sky, singing "tip tap tip tap tippi tippi tip tap tip tip taaap..."
One of the guests brought an old poster of a nostalgic Finnish Christmas that she pinned on the wall above the food. I'm sure many Finnish Christmases have been nothing at all like this idealized picture. I know I could tell quite a few stories about Christmas-time drama. But it's nice imagining such innocent perfection.
The mood of the night was fun-filled, festive, relaxing, joyful, and warm. I thank Satu and Shanthi for making this magic possible.
Now, one of the mirrors had its own way of reflecting back the world....or was that the koti likööri tonttu playing games with me?

channel surfing

What's Christmas without some drama? I've never been much of a Steven Tyler or Aerosmith fan, but as part of my Christmas holiday TV watching and other media focused pastimes like movie watching, brushing up on my Finnish with Nalle Puhin Joulu on YouTube, and dancing with an avatar on Kinect, in my channel surfing I watched the last part of the Kennedy Center Honors gala. I must say I was impressed with Tyler's contribution to the tribute to Paul McCartney's songs! I thought it was funny, too, that a former bad-boy of rock known for outrageous drama (Tyler) finds himself in his older years rocking a rather conservative crowd at a bastion of elitism. Recently, I had watched Paul McCartney on SNL and was disappointed with his performance as, to me, he seems to be just a shadow of his former stage-presence self. As my teen years (and earlier!) were spent rocking out to The Beatles and Wings, when I watched McCartney on stage today, he does not compare with his earlier years at all. The Kennedy Center tribute to him as a songwriter, however, was nothing short of amazing and reminded me of what a great songwriter he is.