San Francisco, Day Three: Saturday, November 12, 2016

This morning we had to wake by an alarm, as we were scheduled to take a day tour down the coast. I'm not typically a bus tour kinda gal, but in some cases they just make sense, and this trip was one of those times. Neither Mom nor I felt any kind of burning desire to drive in San Francisco or even around the surrounding areas, so renting a car was not our best option. We wound up booking two well-thought-out bus tours, and this day was our first. I also have to admit that I let myself very much play the role of the child in the planning for this trip. While I do love trip planning generally, I've had more opportunities of late to do so, and I rather welcomed the chance to sit back a bit more and follow Mom's lead. While I'd been planning for my retreat in October and for a get-away to come soon with H, my Mom put her energies into our San Francisco trip, and I am ever so grateful for that.

After checking in and boarding the bus, we headed down the coast towards Monterey, enjoying the gorgeous coastal scenery as we drove and stopped at several lookouts. The deep blue of the Pacific Ocean and sky stretched out before us like an endless quilt that looked as if it could envelope the world, its cotton batting seemingly coming loose at the shoreline as the waves rolled up onto the sand and crashed into the rocky cliffs.

We reached Monterey in time for lunch, which we enjoyed at the Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. Restaurant & Market while sitting on a patio overlooking the ocean. We were pleasantly surprised at how good the food was, and our waitress was so much fun, quizzing us on 'Forrest Gump' trivia whenever she stopped at our table. Strolling along Cannery Row for a bit both before and after eating, we stretched our legs before reboarding the bus to continue on down the coast.

Cannery Row in Monterey.

Our drive now took us along some of the most beautiful coastal views I've ever seen. The fog played some interesting tricks on us, rolling out in full force as we left Monterey and leaving us shrouded in grey mists, and then retreating just as quickly to once again show off the incredible California coastline a few minutes's drive later. Mother nature can be fickle, indeed! We were treated to a ride along 17-Mile Drive, and soaked up the beauty of Monterey Bay and the Santa Cruz mountains, Spanish Bay, Point Joe, and prestigious golf courses including Poppy Hills, Spyglass Hill, and Pebble Beach. One of my favourite spots was The Lone Cypress, a solitary cypress tree which has, according to a brochure we picked up, "prevailed on its rocky perch for more than 250 years." The indomitable spirit of both nature and man - who have installed fences and cables to add protection - when working well together, seem embodied by this staunch tree that stands alone in the sunshine, wind, rain, and fog, surviving Pacific storms year after year.

The Lone Cypress

The eighteenth hole at Pebble Beach Golf Links.

Our tour's final destination was Carmel-by-the-Sea, and we arrived in the quaint town in the late afternoon. Strolling through the town at dusk, silhouettes and shadows were our guides, and a magical quality infused the experience as we explored into twilight before heading back to the bus by the light of the moon.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas in Carmel!

 

Numerous shops featured enticing indoor/outdoor alleyways and corridors, some leading to secret courtyards and gardens, others to the next street. These were, as most of you will know about me, right up my alley (pun fully intended!).

A quaint patio in Carmel-by-the-Sea by twilight.  

The bus ride back to San Francisco in the dark was made fun as Mom and I played games together on her i-Pad and watched the on-board movie, "Mrs. Doubtfire", which was filmed in San Francisco. We were certainly ready to sleep fitfully after this full day of touring, but of course, we were also set for further explorations the next day. Stay tuned for more from San Fran!

My wonders: Have you ever been to Monterey, 17-Mile Drive and/or Carmel-by-the-Sea? What were your impressions? What are some of your favourite coastal views? 

Worthy Read #3: "The Buddha in the Attic" by Julie Otsuka

Otsuka, Julie. The Buddha in the Attic. New York: Random House Inc., 2011.

While in San Francisco earlier this month I had the opportunity to visit a magnificent bookstore, 'City Lights Bookstore & Publishers', located on Columbus Avenue at Broadway in North Beach. Founded in 1953 and still known as "one of the few truly great independent bookstores in the United States," the very walls are steeped in poetry, and I deeply inhaled the happy scent of papyrus as we entered. Arched doorways, multiple floors boasting yet more sections of books, and a history that saw the shop as a meeting place for discussions about "anti-authoritarian politics and insurgent thinking" makes this bookstore a true gem for any lover of books and freedom. (www.citylights.com)

My own little slice of heaven.

 

The hand-written sign above the door reads, 
"Abandon all despair, Ye who enter here."

While at this marvelous store I selected a couple of books, including Julie Otsuka's Pen/Faulkner Award winning The Buddha in the Attic. This slip of a novel (it's a mere 129 pages long) reads like poetry, simple yet profoundly compelling, and pulls the reader into the hearts and minds of the countless Japanese women whose voices tell their story as a collective chant through Otsuka's masterful writing. The first-person plural narration sweeps us up into this choral song, and we trace the lives of these girls and women as they journey from their childhood homes in Japan to San Francisco as "picture brides", through their experiences as wives, workers, and mothers, right up until the Japanese internment during the second world war. We feel their disappointments and pain, their hardships and fears.

The following excerpt will give you a small but lovely taste of Otsuka's flavour:
"On the boat we could not have known that when we first saw our husbands we would have no idea who they were. That the crowd of men in knit caps and shabby black coats waiting for us down below on the dock would bear no resemblance to the handsome young men in the photographs. That the photographs we had been sent were twenty years old. That the letters we had been written had been written to us by people other than our husbands, professional people with beautiful handwriting whose job it was to tell lies and win hearts. That when we first heard our names being called out across the water one of us would cover her eyes and turn away - I want to go home - but the rest of us would lower our heads and smooth down the skirts of our kimonos and walk down the gangplank and step out into the still warm day. This is America, we would say to ourselves, there is no need to worry. And we would be wrong." (Otsuka, p.18)

Reading about this time in American history leading up to and including the internment of the Japanese following the bombing of Pearl Harbour, I felt myself reeling now and again, the hairs on my arms rising in goosebumps as this injustice born of fear played out on the pages before me. And while I so badly wanted to shake my own fears away with placating thoughts such as, "But that was a long time ago and we've come so far from those days," I could not deceive myself thus. The Buddha in the Attic is not only a beautifully written book, it is an important book. It stands as yet one more reminder that we need to learn from our mistakes, so as never to repeat them. I believe that we are standing on something of a precipice these days, and that the pendulum of society is balancing precariously upon it. And for the good of all, we need to remember that this Earth supports one race: the human race. 

Straying from my book review slightly, I'd like to share with you a framed poem that I discovered on the top floor of City Lights. Written by Lawrence Ferlinghetti, the co-founder of the bookstore, I couldn't get over the relevance of this poem today, and I felt that, though he wrote the words years before, it could have been written on that very day as I stood there a few weeks ago. This gave me an eerie sense of destiny predetermined, which then gave way to a more realistic thought: we, as humans, all too often cycle through our mistakes repeatedly, sometimes with slight variations on the theme, but nevertheless, we ride the ferris wheel over and over again. I've copied the poem below, and have also included the photo I snapped of the framed words that I read.

Pity the Nation

(After Khalil Gibran)

Pity the nation whose people are sheep

And whose shepherds mislead them

Pity the nation whose leaders are liars

Whose sages are silenced

And whose bigots haunt the airwaves

Pity the nation that raises not its voice

Except to praise conquerors

And acclaim the bully as hero

And aims to rule the world 

By force and by torture

Pity the nation that knows

No other language but its own

And no other culture but its own

Pity the nation whose breath is money

And sleeps the sleep of the too well fed

Pity the nation oh pity the people

who allow their rights to erode

and their freedoms to be washed away

My country, tears of thee

Sweet land of liberty

~Lawrence Ferlinghetti

My wonders: Have you read this book, or Otsuka's other novel, When the Emperor was Divine? If so, what were your thoughts? Do you enjoy reading historical fiction? If so, please share any favourite titles in this genre with me. And what are your thoughts on Ferlinghetti's poem? Oh, how I'd enjoy talking to the poet today - believe he's 97 years old - about how his words from years ago apply so aptly today.

San Francisco, Day Two: Friday, November 11, 2016

Our second day in San Francisco began with a walk through Chinatown, centred on Grant Avenue and Stockton Street. This vibrant neighbourhood truly made me feel as though I'd been transported across the ocean, the culture and language rolling over and around us as we passed shop fronts, restaurants and the people who live in this area. According to Wikipedia, this neighbourhood is "the oldest Chinatown in North America and the largest Chinese community outside Asia." On this morning we were merely doing a walk through on our way to further explorations, but we returned to explore it further later on.

Being largely lead by our stomachs which were in search of breakfast at this point, we came to Washington Square, over which the beautiful Saints Peter and Paul Church presides. The lovely square with its mature trees and rolling lawns spread out in front of the church offers the perfect setting for playing children, strolling couples, and pracitising Tai Chi groups.

Tai Chi practitioners in front of Saints Peter and Paul Church.

 Coit Tower as seen from Washington Square.

Seeing us checking the maps on our phones and looking around to get our bearings, a man approached us and asked if we needed help. Telling him we were in search of a breakfast spot, he immediately told us to go to 'Mo's', and proceeded to tell us exactly how to get there. And it was this brand of kindness that I remember most about San Francisco when I reflect upon our stay there. For this was not a solitary occurrence. This was the kind of thing that kept happening to us, time and again. People who were obviously on their way to conduct their own affairs during their own busy lives would see us studying a bus map, pondering a sign, simply stopped in the middle of the sidewalk looking perplexed, or even stumbling up a curb, and offer, of their own accord, to help us with genuine care. They gave us directions, told us which bus numbers would get us to our destination, even walked us to a bus stop so that we could better see the map and how to proceed. Some chatted with us at length about their own lives and families. Several shook their heads while commenting upon the deplorable state of the nation's political situation, and we never failed to tell these kind souls that they were welcome in Canada :).

'Mo's' on Grant Avenue in North Beach.

Rolling streets and hills of San Francisco.

Now that our stomachs were full, we were ready to get to our next destination: Coit Tower. Standing at the top of Telegraph Hill in Pioneer Park, the tower is also named the Lillian Coit Memorial Tower after the woman who left a portion of her estate to the city for civic beautification. The inside walls of the ground floor rotunda are bedecked in murals depicting segments of San Francisco's history through agricultural, industrial, social and financial lenses, to name a few. And from the tower's top, we were treated to incredible 360 degree panoramic views of the entire city and bay.

Lombard Street, "the crookedest street in the world", as seen from Coit Tower.

The Transamerica Building.

The Golden Gate Bridge and Bay as seen from Coit Tower.

We headed towards the Wharf and Pier 39 after enjoying these lofty views. Along our way, we saw a "safe surrender site" sign on a fire department's door. I've since learned more about this program. The safe-haven laws are, according to Wikipedia, "statutes in the United States that decriminalize the leaving of unharmed infants with statutorily designated private persons so that the child becomes a ward of the state." My Mom's and my mood changed noticeably after seeing this sign. While certainly an incredibly important program, my heart ached thinking of the parents who might surrender their babies at that very spot, and all of the factors in a life that might lead them to that moment. I felt that mixture of sadness, hope, and utter gratitude that tends to overwhelm me at such times.

A San Francisco fire department offering a "safe surrender site".

At the waterfront, we found both another San Francisco heart, and the famous sea lions of Pier 39. Their barking song brought smiles to our faces, as the memory of them still does today. We were also able to see Alcatraz Island from the shore, the federal prison made famous in countless movies.

Pier 39
 

The sea lions of Pier 39.



Alcatraz



Mom and me with Alcatraz Island in the background.

 

After walking through the ultra-touristy shopping area at Pier 39, we left the wharf and strolled through North Beach, eventually landing at a great little cafe for cappuccino, biscotti, and good conversation. 





And then we stumbled upon the gem of gems, City Lights Bookstore & Publishers! I'd been hoping to be able to spend some time in the independent store, founded in 1953, and spend some time we did (thankfully my Mom enjoys bookstores as well, and indulges my obsession happily enough). We steeped in the wonderful smell of papyrus on all three floors, and came away with some treasures as well (you can expect a future 'Worthy Reads' post as a result).





All-a-blur as we ride the cable car.

After a little break back at our hotel, we headed back out through some of the neighbourhoods we'd walked through earlier, but now we experienced them by moonlight. Chinatown was one such area, and we had so much fun exporing many of the shops along the way, finding countless curiosities as we did. We continued on back to North Beach where we'd spotted some great Italian restaurants in the afternoon. We chose 'Calzone's', where we were able to sit outside at a fantastic sidewalk table, enjoying delicious food while watching the world go by before us. The perfect ending to a wonderful day, indeed!

Dining outside at 'Calzone's'.

Please stay tuned for details of our third day, which saw us leaving San Francisco to travel south along the breathtaking coast.
The weekend ahead is a busy one for us, so my next post may be a few days' wait away. Thanks, as always, for reading!

My wonders: Coit Tower in San Francisco provides an increadible panoramic view of the city, and I was reminded of being at the top of Hallgrimskirkja this summer and enjoying the sights of Reykjavik from on high. What buildings or towers have you enjoyed some of the loftiest views from?

San Francisco, Day One: Thursday, November 10, 2016

I've been back home for a week now following my wonderful time in San Francisco, and am only finally getting to sharing some of the details here. Coming home I felt this strong urge to wrap myself up in my family . . . a week away from some of your very favourite people is a long time, and I just felt like coccooning myself in their very presence upon my return home. Luck would have it that the beginning of our family's fun & festive season is also upon us, and it's been so nice to celebrate E's birthday this week, which helped to offset all of the resettling and organizing that comes with returning from a trip. And fortunately for me, one of my favourite people, my Mom, was with me in San Francisco. We've been talking about going to this city together for years now, and we were very excited that the opportunity had finally presented itself. I'm happy to now finally have some time to sit down and reflect on the experiences that Mom and I shared in Northern California, and have decided to do so on a day-by-day basis again, as I did with our trip to Iceland. This way my posts won't stretch on with undue length, and I can include some more specifics and photos for each day.

After a four-and-a-half hour flight from Toronto, we arrived in San Francisco at 11:00 a.m. Pacific Time on November 10, happy to still have so much of the day lying ahead of us thanks to the three-hour time difference that we experienced. During the drive from the airport to the Nob Hill neighbourhood in San Francisco where we stayed, I was struck by the very hilly geography of the area, and by the wide variety of trees and shrubbery including tropical palms and brilliantly flowering bushes as well as pines, though all of the plant life has suffered from the drought of the past few years. I was also amazed by the density of housing that we passed as we drove towards the city. These structures, often cube- and block-like, seem to crawl up the hillsides, practically stacked one upon the next, creating a step-like vision extending on and on, higher and higher. The sun shone, the sky was blue, and the spring-like warmth were all most welcoming signs.

Checking into our hotel room, from which we had a beautiful view of the city, particularly of some of  the financial district's most impressive buildings, we were excited to begin exploring!

Panoramic view from our hotel room, including the pyramid-like Transamerica Building.

 

We began with a downhill walk towards Union Square, where we were happy to see our first San Francisco heart. 'Hearts in San Francisco' is, according to Wikipedia, "an annual public art installation started in 2004 by the San Francisco General Hospital Foundation for the purpose of fundraising. . . The choice of hearts is inspired by the Tony Bennett song, 'I Left My Heart in San Francisco'." Artists paint uniform heart sculptures, which are installed at various locations around the city. Along with the beautiful heart depicting a view of the Golden Gate Bridge, we were treated to the coolest juxtaposition of palm trees and a towering Christmas tree! The sensation of walking around without a jacket while seeing a festively decorated tree was somewhat surreal, to say the least.

 

Palms trees and Christmas trees bound together with love in San Francisco's
Union Square.

 

Following a great lunch just off Union Square at Cafe Bellini which recharged our energy levels, we thought we'd head to the waterfront. Despite all that I'd read, and all of the warnings from friends who'd been to the city, San Francisco's steep hills and streets nevertheless caught me off guard. I couldn't help picturing them covered in snow and thinking about what an amazing sledding experience they'd provide! The MUNI pass we bought, which enabled us to hop on a wide variety of public transit vehicles operated by San Francisco's Municipal Railway, including cable cars, buses, street cars and subways, certainly helped us traverse this incredibly hilly city.

 

We caught our first cable car, the iconic mode of transportation designed to help solve the problem that horse-drawn wagons had navigating the steep hills of the city in days gone by, and I was charmed by the quaint cars and their often charismatic drivers.

A string of cable cars wait their turn to approach the line's final station. And no, that street is not even close to being one of the steep ones!

Hopping off at Lombard Street, known as "the crookedest street in the world", we enjoyed a fantastic view of the San Francisco Bay, the Bay Bridge, and Coit Tower. Walking down this twisty-turny road that boasts eight sharp hairpin turns, we wound our way amongst the lovely homes and gardens that line the street. Numerous houses were draped in gorgeous blossoms of brilliant shades. I can't quite imagine what it would be like to live on this part of the street, seeing hundreds of thousands of tourists gawking at your home and driving down your street, but I suppose the residents must have known what they were getting into when they bought their houses!

At the top of Lombard Street.







Coit Tower as seen from the top of Lombard Street.

 

Wanting to see part of the waterfront yet on our first day in the city, we meandered our way down to Hyde Street Pier and got our first glimpses of the shore and the famed Golden Gate Bridge, deemed by many to be the most beautiful bridge in the world. This incredible suspension bridge links San Francisco to Marin County, and is 1300 metres long.

 

Hyde Street Pier

 

 

The Golden Gate Bridge in the distance.

 

Our first day in San Francisco was capped off with a tasty dinner at Chabba Thai Cuisine, and we were more than ready to get to sleep after a busy day of travel and explorations.

Stay tuned for details of our second day's adventures!

 

My wonders: Have you ever been to San Francisco? If so, what were your first impressions of the city? 

 

Thought of the Week: Remembrance . . . and Hope

"They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning,

We will remember them."

~ Ode of Remembrance

Remembrance Day falls at the end of this week, as the bright red poppies that a great many of us are wearing on our lapels attest to. The Commonwealth countries observe this day as a means of honouring those who served in their armed forces and died in the line of duty. In Canada, according to Wikipedia, "Remembrance Day is a statutory holiday in all three territories and in six of the ten provinces (Nova Scotia, Manitoba, Ontario and Quebec being the exceptions)." I know, like me, my fellow Ontarians are thinking that a move to Iqaluit is looking better and better, right?!

In all seriousness, though, I am grateful that the schools here are open on this important day, and this year I will miss not being a part of the assembly that takes place, one of the only times in the entire year when solemnity reigns in our gymnasium. I never fail to weep as groups of students perform, creating sorrowful tableaux, lifting their voices in songs of remembrance such as 'Where Have all the Flowers Gone?', reciting John McCrae's haunting poem, 'In Flanders Fields'. 

"In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
            We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you, from failing hands, we throw
The torch: be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields."

~ Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae

Today, I find myself remembering many people and events during a week that has been anything but easy. My cousin's 19-year-old son died in a car crash two nights ago. Kieran Lasso was a kind, sweet and sensitive boy, though I suppose I should write 'man', a status fairly recently bestowed upon him. I was fortunate to know him, but seeing him only once, maybe twice a year at best, I did not know him as well as I wish I had. He was one of those people whose spirit shone with quiet graciousness, a shy smile playing at his mouth when we would meet. He was polite to his elders, and so sweet with younger children, my girls included. I remember how all of the younger children would gather around him at our annual family Christmas party, viewing him as the natural mentor, and how his shyness melted away with them. How my cousin Kevin is coping I cannot begin to imagine. How Kieran's mother is handling her loss is beyond my scope of understanding. How my Aunt Margie is feeling as she grieves the loss of her first grandson, while watching her only son grieve the loss of his child, breaks my heart. And my Nanny, who recently turned 91 - Kieran's age transposed - sits by helplessly, worried for her daughter, grandson, and Kieran's brother, one of her great grandsons. She said that she wishes it could have been her instead of him.

I remember Claire Sommer, who succumbed to her battle with DIPG (diffuse intrinsic pontine glioma), a highly aggressive and nearly-impossible-to-treat brainstem tumor, this past September. Claire was thirteen years old. Her mother, Valerie, described her as "pure joy, sunshine, and all things great." Her father, Robert, is my second cousin, and my heart aches for these parents, and for Claire's big sister, Olivia. When Val and Robert were given Claire's prognosis, she was predicted to live for approximately a year, which wound up being a fairly accurate prediction. These incredible parents kept the burden of this knowledge to themselves, sharing it with no one until after Claire passed away. I am in awe of their strength and compassion. They gave their daughter, and her friends who loved her, the most incredible gift during her final year of life: the gift of hope. 

Processing these losses can be so difficult, when in many ways they seem senseless. In another vein, the Trump election results have just topped off what has been a very sad week, a loss of a different sort. The loss in this case is more than that my candidate of choice did not prevail. I feel a sense of loss that goes more deeply, as I and so many of my friends reel with the shock that so many people have aligned themselves with someone whose values are so unlike those we espouse. The world feels slightly off-kilter, as though the Earth was knocked a few degrees off of its axis.

Yet I do believe that the world is a wonderful place. It was certainly made better by Kieran's and Claire's presence in it. It is made better by each hand that helps another, by each smile given, by each word of understanding spoken, and by each act of compassion. To live in fear of what might come next would be to commit a disservice to the memories of those we've loved and lost, those we remember. 

The tears that streak down my face during Remembrance Day assemblies flow not just out of sorrow for the people and events we are remembering, but also out of a profound feeling of hope that swells inside, threatening to burst up and out of me. This typically happens to me when I am in the presence of children performing, their light shining on us all. To me, they are hope personified. Let it be known that I also cry when watching Tide's Olympic Moms commercials, to name one of numerous ads that open my floodgates.

Andy Dufresne, a character in the movie, 'The Shawshank Redemption', one of my favourites, writes in a letter to his friend, "Remember Red, hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies." Hope gives us strength, the strength we need to carry on, to take that first step, to challenge, to change, to love, and ultimately to make the world a better place. I hope, for all of our sakes, that we can unite in doing so.

P.S. I leave in a few short hours for the airport, where my Mom and I will board a plane to San Francisco. I am so grateful to have this time with her, but I will of course be missing my loves at home. I will be, once again, unplugged from my blog for the time of my trip, but look forward to sharing some of the details of our adventure when I return. I hope you all have a peaceful week ahead.

Thought of the Week: Fear

The enemy is fear. We think it is hate; but, it is fear.
~ Gandhi

The concept of fear has been on my mind a great deal of late. I believe that I can attribute many of these thoughts to the ongoing fiasco that is the presidential campaign taking place south of our border. I counselled myself not to step into the realm of the political here on my blog, but I'm choosing to ignore my own counsel (what do I know anyway, right?!). So here goes . . . I might preface things by saying something like, please don't take offense, no matter what side of things you're on, but really, that's pointless. What's taking place these days IS offensive, so let's go there. Bring it on!

Fear is defined as "an unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat." Certainly, there are times when fear is warranted. This strong emotion taps into our very basic fight or flight instincts and responses, which are controlled by the autonomic nervous system. This system operates largely unconsciously. It's the system which enabled our Neanderthal ancestors to react without hesistation as they either ran from or attempted to defend themselves from a sabre-toothed tiger. So yes, fear can serve us well in our quest for survival.

But the brand of fear that so many of us in our society experience these days has little to do with survival. Back to the definition above: fear is caused by a "belief". Yes, that belief can be a reality as when the sabre-toothed tiger's saliva was dripping menacingly down upon our Neanderthal forefathers. But all too often our fears are a construct of our mind's musings, swirls of thought fed by countless sources of fuel: movies, news stories, articles appearing on the internet, conspiracy theories, dreams, childhood memories, overheard discussions, books, magazines and even tabloids. And these days, a man running for president. The metaphorical fineprint that we often neglect is that a great many of these sources are unsubstantiated.

Fear: False Evidence Appearing Real.~ Unknown

When someone tries to win power through fear-mongering, red flags should be waving to all of us. Hell, sirens should be blaring. Purposely playing on the fears of people, or even worse, inciting new fears in them, is disgraceful. Yet we are seeing a candidate for president doing exactly this, targeting a nation plagued with a history of acting on fear and thus hatred to tragic ends. We see a nation in which so many are trying to learn from the mistakes that too often go hand-in-hand with prejudice and fear being tempted by a soapbox orator with celebrity status (though I'd say a B-list celebrity, at best). This kind of rabble-rouser can be hard to resist, particularly when he's doing his utmost to appeal to the underlying prejudice and bias of some. His campaign trail is, in my opinion, littered with outtakes that would be deemed too disgraceful for an episode of 'Men Behaving Badly'. 

"You can discover what your enemy fears most

by observing the means he uses to frighten you."
~ Eric Hoffer

I understand that there are scare tactics being used on both sides of the campaigning trenches. This seems to be an ugly norm in political warring, and not one I've ever admired. Smear campaigns, ads that simply put down the other candidate rather than touting one's own merits and strengths, and basic mud slinging is pretty much par for the course in modern day elections. If only they could all come back to the tennets they were taught in Kindergarten, where name calling was deemed unkind, and where the Golden Rule prevailed :).

Fear paralyzes many of us on a daily basis. We're afraid of what people will think, and so we don't risk sharing an idea, wearing a particular outfit, meeting someone new. We're afraid of our own failure, and so we don't take a chance on a dream. On a much grander and appalling scale, humanity has a history pock-marked and stained with tragic events spawned in large part by people's fear. The Holocaust, the Rwandan Genocide, Slavery in the U.S., the Salem Witch Trials, the Japanese-Canadian Internment, and persecution of people in the LGBQT community, are just several examples of how far fear can carry people and their actions, or how that same fear can inhibit their ability to act when something should be stopped. And all too often there is someone at the helm, inciting the fear. Fear of 'the other' almost seems to take on a life of its own once it grabs hold.

I recently heard the song, 'Seriously' for the first time, coming across it as a videoclip on FaceBook, and immediately falling for it in every way. Written by Sara Bareilles, the lyrics represent the thoughts she imagines "Barack Obama is not saying publicly about this election and Donald Trump." Leslie Odom Jr. sings with a voice that sends out shivers of delight, and the musicians he performs with help bring the song to life beautifully. The lyrics about fear are so bang on I could cry. I've copied them here, along with a link to the song. Very much worth a listen (or many repetitions, as in my case!).

"Let's talk of fear

And why I don't bring it in here

It's a dangerous word,

it spooks the herd

And we all bleed in the stampede

Fear makes a false friend indeed

And I take it seriously."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hI8TCA3fJcs

The marvellous thing is that, if our fears are solely beliefs, we have the power to change them; in fact, we can eradicate them entirely. Think about the world you want to see around you, and the life you want to live. The things you want to do and say, the chances you want to take, and the dreams you want to chase. A life plagued by fear, which is more often than not groundless, is a shadow of the life you could live if you chose to do so.

If you are distressed by anything external,

the pain is not due to the thing itself,

but to your estimate of it;

and this you have the power to revoke at any moment.
~ Marcus Aurelius

Fears are educated into us,

and can, if we wish,

be educated out.
~ Karl Augustus Menninger

And so we all wait. We wait for the next three days to trickle by to see how a nation deals with the choice before them. And certainly, I have some fears. Sadly, no matter which way the election results fall, some may well come to fruition. I can't quite fathom the era of disrespect, egotism, dishonesty, narcissism and bigotry which could be ushered into the White House on one hand. Yet on the other, even should Trump be kept out of office, he has caused damage that will take years to repair. He has inflicted more hurt to a nation whose wounds are still gaping, further dividing its citizens along heated lines. He has also caused damage to an electoral system that he, out of his own fear of losing the election, has called into question with fantastic accusations of rigging. I'm noticing that I'm sighing a great deal as I write this . . . now for a deep, cleansing breath. I'll bring myself back to compassion, reminding myself that Mr. Trump is doing the best he can . . . and I know I should stop my sentence there, yet I feel a "but" coming on: but, why is it that some people's best is so shoddy?! Yes, dear reader, I'm getting ready to wrap things up, don't fret (or fear!). Let's turn things around here.

The antithesis of fear, in my own opinion, is hope, compassion and truth. And I like to think they can overpower fear anyday. The human spirit often boggles me in its capacity to persevere over fear and bias. People who have been wronged so wholly who are able to forgive and overcome the hatred which seems such a natural result inspire me incredibly.

“It's really a wonder that I haven't dropped all my ideals,
because they seem so absurd and impossible to carry out.
Yet I keep them, because in spite of everything,

I still believe that people are really good at heart.”  

~ Anne Frank, 'The Diary of a Young Girl'

I believe that, at least in most cases, Anne was right. If fear is often the culprit that possesses us when our best isn't as good as it has the potential to be, and we truly have the power to overcome and push past that fear, then it's up to us. Each and every one of us. I've just got to quote Sara Bareilles one more time here (can you tell I'm on a total kick of her songs?!), this time from her song 'Brave': "Show me, how big your brave is!"

Here's a list of strategies that can be used to overcome fear:
* Acknowledge the fear. Awareness is huge in all facets of life.
* Check it out, closely. Get up close and personal with it and be as objective as you can when you ask yourself if the fear is 'true' (as in, the sabre-toothed tiger is really breathing down your neck) or just a 'belief' that is unsubstantiated (hmmm, I don't actually live during the same time in history as sabre-toothed tigers).
* Find gratitude for some of the things that this fear might present with it. E.g., Though you might be fearful of public speaking, doing so allows you to share your ideas.
* Give yourself opportunities to face and experience your fear. The more often you do this, the less power your fears will have.
* Set a goal. Perhaps with baby steps initially, but challenge yourself to work your way through the experience of the fear further and further.
* Breathe (never a bad plan).
* Talk about it or enlist the help of a friend who can encourage you.
* Adopt a mantra. Use positive affirmations to help you conquer your fear, e.g., "I can do this." Or take a page from SNL character Stuart Smalley: "I'm good enough. I'm smart enough. And doggone it, people like me."

As for everyone's election fears, think on the bright side: should a worst-case scenario occur, we might be making a bunch of new friends up here in Canada as our Demoncratic American neighbours decide to defect :)

My wonders: Have you been following this American presidential election campaign, and if so, do you feel you've been doing so more closely than during previous elections? Do you feel strongly about the potential results one way or the other? What are your thoughts on fear lying at the root of hatred? How do you define the antithesis of fear? And finally, do you have any strategies that you've used to successfully fight fear?