Monthly Archives: June 2017

Journey into Wise Women Travellers – Part 1

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It was a wet chilly morning, the grass shimmering with the remnants from the previous nights rain. I’d dressed with a little more care. Adding heels and pair of earrings to my usual flaring yoga pants and loose top.

Leaving the house with just enough time, I stepped onto the sidewalk and hooked my foot behind my right ankle and fell, face first, catching myself with my hands, grinding gravel into the pads. Groaning, I pushed myself to my feet, wincing as I put weight on my left foot. “Great! Just Great!” I snarled to myself. “Just what I needed.” Nausea simmered in my gut.

I had a good excuse not to go. I sighed. No go now and get it started. Putting off the meeting wasn’t going to change that I had to find a way to make a living. Getting a Doctor’s note for additional sick leave would not be likely. I limped to the truck hoping it wasn’t broken. Foot… not truck.

I limped into the meeting. Put on a happy face. Ran the gauntlet of introductions. Listened to the benefits of working with Work BC.  I was asked what I wanted to do. I really dislike job interviews, filling never ending applications, and forms. So, I said, Self Employed. I figured less of everything. Besides I was tired of 9 – 5.

I gathered up the information and my next appointment date with my Case Manager and hobbled back to my truck… sagging into my seat as my heart rate slowed to a near stop.

I contemplated spending time sitting in the Medical clinic to get my foot checked out, winced, moaned and decided not to. It was the same foot I broke 6 months before and it felt the same… bloody painful. I had the Air boot, so I went home.

My hob-along Air Boot – light and awkward

I stared at the sheaf of papers the staff had given me. It hadn’t seemed so large when I folded them and put them in my case. I placed them on my desk and sipped my tea. Maybe a little distance… I walked away and looked back. No, still the same mass. I frowned, it actually seemed to be growing exponentially. My eyes crossed, my vision blurred. I blinked trying to clear them. Maybe better lighting.

Moving the light didn’t work and only took 5 minutes. The writing seemed blurry, my ears filled with cotton wool. I re-read the questions as they jumped on the page. Throwing the paper down I snarled at my wife … who’s a bit deaf.

On the 3rd repeat. To her back. I yelled and jumped up and down. Turning around she said calmly, “What’s the matter?”

Snarling, I thrust the papers at her. “These stupid questions don’t make any sense.”

I listened as she read each question out loud, and muttered to myself as I took notes. Whimpering, I crawled back into my skin dragging my resistance with me.

(stay tuned for Part 2)

Welcome to Dropping Pennies, the Home of Wise Women Travellers

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Dropping Pennies is about insights, changes in perspectives. The Ah Ha!, and Oh!, moments I have, books I read and anything else that catches my fancy. And every now and then I’ll throw in something about my business, Wise Women Travellers, travelling theater company.

I grew up in a family of girls in the Cariboo, BC Canada. My father followed the work, mining and logging while my mother kept the ‘home fires burning’, canning a quarter acre garden and the deer or moose they brought in, not necessarily during the hunting season.

I was in my early teens before we got electricity and running water.

For my 10th birthday, I begged my parents for a pair of cap guns that I saw in the window of the local store – they were full size with leather cross holsters that tied down. I was in my 30’s when I let them go, and even now question why. I believe that the choices we make in life should be informed – conscious – not because others say so or because we’re swept up in the moment – I found not thinking through a choice creates regrets. And so, letting go of my guns was not something I thought through.

About the same timeframe, age 10, a group of entertainers came to town and played at the community hall. The MC and main singer introduced his daughter who tapped danced, telling us that she didn’t like to practice, she would rather skip. So, he and she agreed she could skip as long as she tapped at the same time. It was the first time I realized that work could be more than drudgery.

At Simon Fraser university, where I graduated in 1994 with a BFA in theater, I met a young man in his 20’s, who was born in Tibet, raised in China and India, and was Caucasian. He showed me that race, colour, or religion do not necessarily create culture. Culture stems from our life experiences.

According to E.B. Taylor, culture is “that complex whole which includes knowledge, belief, art, morals, law, custom and any other capabilities and habits acquired by a man as a member of society.”

Today there seems to be more pressure on people to conform. Different cultures demand that their differences be acknowledged and the expectations that we deny who we are in order to be seen as politically correct and unbiased. I believe that if we accept our own culture, and acknowledge what doesn’t work, and what does, then we are apt to look for alternatives that are more expansive than our individual culture and then become more accepting of all cultures.

Denying ‘our Selves’ doesn’t create better people. Denying who we are doesn’t help the issues that arise when cultures clash. How can we accept one another if we are denied our own?