Finding a Voice

Several years ago, when I had first moved to Toronto, I was going to a good number of job interviews. One of the most common pieces of feedback I got when I wasn’t successful in an interview or when I was being let go was that I was “too creative for the position.” At the time, and even now, it felt like a nice way to brush me off without having to provide too many details about why I wasn’t right for the position. As the years have passed, I think that the feedback might not have been too far off the mark.

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Finding Silence One Page at a Time – 20 Months of Morning Pages

In 2002, Journals was released. It’s a collection of Kurt Cobain’s notes, letters, lists, and drawings. It could easily be argued that his music was his liberation, his way of finding nirvana. The collection shines a light on how Cobain thought. It’s an insight into who the man was behind the curtains, not behind the microphone. It helps you understand why he made the music that he did. I use Morning Pages.

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The Moment of Lift by Melinda Gates

The Moment of Lift by Melinda Gates was a great read.

What I enjoyed most was gaining insight into the thinking behind a large philanthropic organization. The work that the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation does is phenomenal and Melinda Gates does a nice job of informing the reader of thinking behind some of the decisions that are made. What’s most amazing to me is how an organization with such wealth and power needs to remain flexible in order to respond appropriately to the needs of the communities they serve; a lesson we can all learn.

If you have any interest in gender equality issues, I suggest giving this book a read. It’s easy enough and the stories that Gates shares, while heartwrenching at times, are succinct and a valuable addition to any conversation around the need to raise women up.

Letting Sh*t Go

I woke up with vomit on the duvet. It was over my feet so I knew that it wasn’t mine because I haven’t done yoga in nearly ten years. Riel had curled up in between my legs, slightly higher up on the bed than where he had emptied his stomach. It was only a few minutes after the moist duvet had interrupted my sleep that I noticed Riel trying to take a shit. After about thirty seconds of effort, he shrieked and I knew that he was constipated.

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