Posted in Random ramblings

Start Over

In the last two days I have started and deleted two blog posts. They both seemed so superficial in light of the tragic events in the world; specifically, for me, in New Zealand.

I feel this way often. That what I write lacks substance. That it seems superficial and yet it has the depth of my heart in it. I lead a truly blessed life and perhaps my blog reflects that. By an accident of birth I grew up white, female and educated. I took my hard earned summer money and put myself through nurses training because back then that was possible. We worked hard for our first and second house and the life style we gave ourselves and our offspring. I worked diligently and with great dedication in my profession and retired with a pension that will see me through. But underlying it all is the fact that we are lucky.

When tragedy strikes you stop and look and realize that, for the most part, our birth circumstances detail so much of our life.

The tragedy in New Zealand, like the one in Montreal or London or Nice seem so unreal. How could there be such hatred in places that seem, on the surface, to have an orderly life. How is it possible for someone to be so far over the edge to feel that their neighbors don’t deserve to live?

I just can’t fathom it. And I worry. I worry, that for my sweet little grandchildren, that life might not be safe. Could these be ominous signs of the start of a new type of world war? Just like the First World War was different than the Second World War. A world war where no one is safe anywhere. Not in northern Saskatchewan or in Perth, Australia or in any other place you care to name.

It’s bad enough that the natural disasters seem to take more lives every year. That alone seems so intense every night on the news. One rolls in before we’ve finished processing about the previous one.

It can be overwhelming. It becomes so staggering and heart wrenching. So then what I write, from my heart, seems too matter so little because the world is in distress.

But maybe, just a little, it does matter. I write about balance; life, death, pain and joy. Or maybe it is the intention to see beauty, both with words and my eyes, that may help lighten a heart that needs it. A caring hand or a hug with words, so to speak. It seems like a small token at such a time but perhaps love and joy is what is truly needed at a time such as this.



I have had a love of the written word for my entire life. It's no surprise that eventually I found a platform where I could write. It's random; sometimes funny, occasionally sad, maybe even at times from anger and I lean towards creative photography and hands on crafts. I have a few blogs that high light these interests.

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