Category: Feel Good Story

The Silent Partner…

Last June, my wife decided to gift me a small succulent plant for our anniversary. I could have sworn I wrote a post about this but now I can’t find it. Either I didn’t, which is possible considering the number of posts I’ve written, or I did and my WordPress is glitching. In any event, my wife gave me this lovely little succulent to place in my office, which is likely the best gift that one could provide for a Buddhist. In essence, she gave me a touch of life to brighten up my work environment.

This is important, because most people associate the workplace with a full day of negativity. It’s great in concept to suggest to people to “do what you love,” but not everyone has that option. Granted, I’m absolutely enamoured with my job and love going into work, but there’s always room for more positivity in life, right? The bottom line is that I spent my first couple of months putting a personal touch on my office space. This can be important as work becomes so much smoother once your work space has a “homey” feeling to it. This shouldn’t be confused preventing the association of work within the actual home.

“Herb” during his first day in my office…

I decided to post the succulent on my personal FaceBook page, which is something I typically don’t do, and received some great name suggestions. I landed on naming the plant, “Herb.” I’ve never had much of a green thumb and I was a bit concerned with taking care of a living thing within my workspace. But a succulent is likely the best type of plant to give someone in this context, as it requires minimal watering and only needs passive sunlight. While I don’t subscribe to the concept of talking to one’s plants, I make a habit of playing some meditative music in the office, which I think likely benefits Herb. I couldn’t necessarily find definitive articles showing the benefits of music to plants, but I’ve heard a lot about it in previous years.

Herb is the first thing I see when I walk into my office. He gets a touch of water, every Monday morning and he gets a couple hours of passive sunlight with the rising sun, every morning. It’s been a nice addition and a positive presence within my office. Certainly not my most comprehensive or informative post I’ve ever written but sometimes it’s nice to share something simple. And this happens to be one of those things.

“Herb’s” selfie, almost nine months later…

It’s subtle, because succulents don’t grow quite as rampantly as many other plants would but you can definitely tell from the two photos I’ve shared that Herb has started to grow outwards beyond the rim of his pot. The slight added weight of his “branches” has caused a bit of a flattened look for his lower stalks, but his centre is still proudly sprouting upwards and these photos certainly help me to see that growth is definitely happening.

Plants are certainly a positive way to brighten one’s environment, whether at home or at the office. The important thing to remember is that a plant is a living thing, no different from a household pet. It requires attention, watering and care. Many people get plants and then let them sit there and all but forget about them. You still need to give them some attention and care, otherwise you’re better off simply NOT getting a plant. For me, given the growth Herb has shown in recent months, I can’t wait to see what progress he’ll show in the year to follow. ☯️

First World Problems…

I’ve never been a big fan of baths, preferring a nice, hot shower. Even as a child, I started using the shower before I was old enough to reach the shower switch. In any event, i suppose that as long as one cleans oneself regularly, that’s all that matters. I bring all of this up because I’ve been experiencing and enjoying showers way more than a person rightfully should, lately. And because I’ve been enjoying my showers, I thought I would share that joy with all of you. Isn’t that nice? Cough, cough… Moving on…

My home originally featured two bathrooms. One was upstairs and featured a bathtub and the other was in the basement and simply had a small, box-style standup shower. The upstairs shower worked but would leak into the basement due to a broken seal on one of the water pipes. Since there was no access behind the shower wall, it would cost a heavy amount to remove the drywall, repair the shower and repair the dry wall. So ultimately, my wife and I were limited to showering downstairs.

About a year and half ago, our foundation shifted and opened a crack in the western concrete wall of the basement. Although we could tell from the walls and some features that the house had shifted, we couldn’t see the extent of the damage hidden behind the walls or predict that a rain storm that followed would partially flood the basement with ground water (which our insurance policy ironically doesn’t cover). That’s when Grasshopper Construction came to our rescue.

They were able to demolish the existing basement, repair and shore up the foundation and brace it all around. The majority of homes in Regina require this bracing by virtue of the shifting soil in the area, but our home was never done. Once the bracing was done, the foundation was sound and safe but now we had a bare concrete basement, which couldn’t be used for any liveable purpose. This included the loss of the downstairs bathroom and shower.

Big deal, right? We still have the tub upstairs. That’s exactly what we said, over a year ago. But I have to admit that filling, sitting and using a tub for the purposes of daily cleaning is tedious. There’s nothing quite comparable to the ease and convenience of jumping in the shower for five minutes and being done. So after a year and a half of lowering my bulk into a restrictive space and trying to maneuver myself to wash all my 2,000 parts (if you don’t remember those Lever 2000 commercials, that joke will be lost on you), I had enough of baths.

A little over a month ago, the renovation of our downstairs was finally completed and we’ve had a working shower (and a much larger one, at that) for several weeks. Although this isn’t my usual type of post and there’s no real lesson contained in my words, I was having a hot shower this morning when I realized I was enjoying the “perk” of having a shower. Isn’t that amazing? Something that the average person takes for granted is something I had to have destroyed and go without for a year, in order to appreciate. There may be a lesson in there after all…

But just so that I can say that I shared some knowledge, did you know that a guy named William Feetham is credited with inventing the modern shower in 1767? It wasn’t until that point that daily bathing became a common practice for proper hygiene and better health. There you go, I shared some knowledge. ☯️

Happy Birthday, Dear Brother…

On this day in 1972, my brother Stephane was born. Or rather I should say, my mother delivered him. A complicated birth, he was stillborn and doctors had to remove him through emergency C-section in order to save my mother. Although he came out without signs of life, they managed to revive him and thus my mother’s firstborn was here! His father, a deadbeat who considered my mother a one-night stand, denied his parentage of my brother, leaving my mother alone to raise a child during a time when such things were frowned upon.

Over a few short years, my mother learned to be independent of the world and protective of my brother, as he suffered double kidney failure while still and infant, developed cardiac issues and a condition called Fanconi Syndrome. It wasn’t until 1978 that my mother met my father, fell in love and claimed my brother as his own son. I was born months later. Please don’t do the math…

My brother and I, shortly after my birth, with my maternal grandmother

My brother was always a source of inspiration and a good example to me during my youth. Always in positive spirits despite the constant threat of death, he was always fast with a hug or an “I love you,” even to those who weren’t in his family. But maybe that’s the lesson; to my brother, the whole world was family. He was as protective of me as an older brother could be, despite the fact that in a few very short years, I outgrew and outweighed him by quite a bit. His body never grew beyond that of a small child.

I stayed by his side through most of my youth, watching his every move, learning valuable life lessons, never quite understanding the concept of mortality because even though he knew his death was imminent, he had a firm love and belief in God and knew where he was going. He also didn’t ever want to frighten me with talk of death or what he believed might become of him.

My brother lost his battle in April of 1991. It was a normal Monday; I was being prepped for school and he was getting ready to be brought to the hospital for weekly blood work. Even now, with everything I’ve learned, I have no idea what this bloodwork was looking for. I only knew that if the results were bad, he would be rushed by emergency flight to St. Justin’s Children’s Hospital in Montreal. On this one Monday, for whatever reason, he was admitted to our local hospital in Dalhousie, New Brunswick. He never came out.

Had he lived, my brother would be 49 years old, today. We often spoke of how things would be when we were older. He would buy a car and “let” me drive him around, unless he met a girl, in which I’d have to make myself scarce, of course. He continues to inspire me, even today. I always think to myself that if he could continue to fight through the constant threat of dying and still have the positive, outgoing personality he did, maybe my problems aren’t that bad. and if he could fight so vehemently, so could I. I carry that lesson, still.

Happy birthday, brother. You are still missed. ☯️

The End Of A Hairy Month…

I’m extremely proud of what I’ll be writing about today but not so proud of how much of a struggle it was to get here, so there may be a bit of a rant component built in. Buckle up! At the beginning of November, I decided to participate in “Movember,” which is a month intended to raise funds for prostate cancer, testicular cancer, men’s health and suicide prevention. It’s a solid initiative and I’ve been participating for years. For the most part, I’ve usually been a participant in someone else’s group. So I would donate my money, grow out my moustache in exchange for donations then shave on December 1st.

This year, I decided to play it a bit differently since I manage an actual staff. In response to this, I got a feel for everyone’s interest and it was decided I would lead the group in raising money and participating. We made our donations and started to eagerly grow our moustaches. In my zeal, I set our group’s goal to $500, which was a few hundred higher than what we had all contributed but quite modest when compared to how much others usually start GoFund Me’s and donation pages for. But to ensure my group’s success, I reached out on my social media platforms (here included) for help in reaching this goal. The results were disappointing…

Tom Selleck, eat your heart out! After photo, taken yesterday (I don’t have the before one available)

I’ve always believed that if one is able to help others, then one has a responsibility to do so. Although I totally understand that times are tough, I’ve never been one to ask for donations or help with fundraising. I give often, to different charitable organizations, even when I can only spares a few dollars. I’ve helped many, and despite the fact I’m writing the words now, I have always done so without the expectation of recognition or reciprocation. After all, why do something good if it’s just for some form of reward? At that point, it’s simply quid pro quo and not ACTUALLY doing something good…

So, why does it bother me so much that I had to ask repeatedly and often, across three different platforms containing hundreds of known associates, friends and family? The world has taken a significant hit below the belt in the past two years, but am I wrong to think that many if not most, could have contributed $10? $5? A dollar, even? If most of the people on my social media had done that, we would have no doubt reached and even exceeded our goal within the first couple of weeks.

At the end of the day, I can’t fault those who ignored my request for help… A big part of charitable giving is that it needs to come from the donor of their own choice. There can’t be an expectation. And I did have a number of people who provided donations and for that, I thank them sincerely from the bottom of my heart. My team and I are grateful and thanks to these donations, we reach $505 and I was able to shave this light-awful soup strainer off my face.

The experience has taught me a few things, including the fact that I believe next year, I’ll go back to simply being a participant instead of an organizer. I had deep thoughts about raising donations for Diabetes by cycling, but I think my place is to donate, not raise. Since I’ve never really done this before, I was somehow of the impression that more people would step up to lend a hand. Lesson learned. Rant over. ☯️

Lucky Number Seven…

Tempus fugit. Time flies. Yes, yes it does. Seven years ago I stepped into an entirely new world. I became a father. My son Nathan turned seven years old yesterday. At his request, we celebrated with pizza and a Spider-man cake. We also showered him with a number fo gifts, which included the Paw Patrol movie, a HUGE Paw Patrol vehicle (I can’t remember what they’re all called) and a visit from Grandma and Auntie. It was a good time and there’s no denying that he’s getting older. He’s coming into his own, developing his own personality and certainly challenges me on a daily basis.

Our first cuddle session, about a week after he was born. We were STILL in the hospital.

I still remember the day he was born. I should have been nervous and scared but I was more paranoid about what the hospital might do to him than his coming into the world. When he was finally out, my wife went to recovery and I stuck to him the whole time. He’s been a clingy, daddy’s boy ever since. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Like any kid, he drives me crazy sometimes. But I love him to alpha Centauri and back.

Proudly displaying his age, yesterday.
Being his usual, goofy self while I try on sweaters.
Let’s just ignore my double chin and that wound on my upper lip, shall we?

A non-stop dynamo of energy and motivation, Nathan has a wonderful view on life and is always ready with a hug or a long, convoluted story about what he believes the origin of a particular thing may be. If he carries this energy and imagination into his later years, he’ll go far in life. And I’m sure he will. ☯️

No Good Deed…

They say that no good deed goes unpunished…. I’m not sure I agree but some of the experiences I’ve lived through in the past three years would certainly seem to suggest this. But I was raised to believe that it’s important to help others if you can. In fact, my grandfather used to say that if you COULD help someone, you essentially have a responsibility to do so. For the majority of my life, that lesson has rattled around in my head every time I see someone struggling to carry something heavy, someone who needs help in a more ambulatory sense.

Last Thursday, I was at a retail location in the city and was walking to my car when I saw a small, silver Honda Civic sitting halfway out of a parking space and appeared to be spinning in place. Two guys appeared to be pushing at the front of the car and I thought to myself, Okay, they got this. I’ll just get myself home… Then I heard one of the guys say, “You’re hung up bad, dude. We can’t get you out.” And both guys walked away. What? you push once, car doesn’t move so you walk away from this guy who’s by himself? That dog won’t hunt, monseigneur!

I walked over to find a skinny, young guy trying to shovel himself out with a small shovel and appeared despondent. I offered to push while he gave the car small bursts of acceleration. I instructed him to cut his wheels a particular direction, but there was a significant language barrier and he basically just floored the accelerator and waited while I struggled against the vehicle. Now, I’m not an Olympian by any standard but I’m also not the smallest guy around. And a Honda Civic is a pretty small and light vehicle. That’s why it was hung up; it didn’t have enough weight to touch ground through the snow.

I heaved, pushing and lifting with my legs and giving it all my strength. My back popped and cracked and groaned in protest but the car started moving. trying to make the driver understand to allow the vehicle to rock back and forth to help get it out of its rut, but that wasn’t happening. He had me take the wheel, citing that I’d likely know how better to drive. not sure where THAT came from, but I gave it a try. When that didn’t work, I went back to trying to push.

The big problem is that he was blocking an entire travel lane for the parking lot and people were sliding around, trying to avoid his rear bumper and nearly colliding with other, oncoming vehicles. I felt I couldn’t just leave this guy to deal with all this alone. I also recognized that if it were my wife stuck in this situation, I’d want someone coming to help her if I wasn’t there.

Two other people finally came and helped me push and the driver’s vehicle finally got out. But the damage was done. My back flared and I could already feel a tightness beginning that I knew I would be paying for later. When i got home and explained to my wife what had happened , she quickly gave me some anti-inflammatory caplets. But the pain persisted and worsened as the evening progressed. The worst came when I bent over to hug my toddler and the pain flared like a bright light behind my eyes, to the point where tears started rolling down.

My wife asked if I needed a hospital visit. Not in today’s climate, thank you very much! Besides, I didn’t have four to six hours to wait in a triage room for the staff to send me home with ibuprofen. My back wasn’t broken, I likely just pulled something. It feels alright at the moment but I’ve certainly been taking it easy, the past few days. Winter has just started and this isn’t the time to be out of commission, considering that snow won’t remove itself.

Do I regret helping that person? Would I have reconsidered, had I known I would injure myself? In retrospect, it’s easy to say no but I likely would have altered how I would have given that help in order to prevent injury. But this taught me two things: I’m no longer young as springtime and my body has no compunctions against letting me know. It also shows that strength isn’t everything. Even if one is strong enough to do a thing, it won’t necessarily mean you SHOULD do a thing. But helping another human being is important, and definitely felt good despite the pain. Worth it. Food for thought…☯️

I Need Help With Movember…

For those who may not be aware, the month of November is known as “Movember,” where men from all over channel their inner 80’s porn star and piss off their respective partners by growing out their moustaches to help raise funds for prostate and testicular cancer, as well as suicide prevention and general men’s health. I’ve participated every year for more years than i can recall, but this year I decided to go in a different direction and established a team among my staff. We’ve all participated and made donations, setting a modest goal of $500 for the month.

My team and I have already managed to raise $290 in donations, but there’s only ten days left to the month! I’ve posted to Facebook and Snapchat as well, and it’s my hope that some of my followers can help by pitching in $5 or $10 dollars to help us cross the finish line. As a general rule, I never use my blog as a platform to solicit for things. But I could really use your help. Times are tough for everyone but every little bit helps. If you can find it within yourself to spare a couple of dollars, you can find my team’s Movember page by visiting the Movember Home Page, clicking on “Donate,” select “give to a person or team and search for me by name (Shawn Cook).

How can you say no to this majestic ‘stache?

I’m a firm believer in asking when you need help. If you can’t donate, no worries. No harm, no foul. Just scroll on by and tomorrow will be a new post with actual content. My word on it. But if you can/do donate, thank you. My grandfather had prostate cancer and several members of my family have had SOME form of cancer. We all know someone who does. Peace. ☯️

My New Basement…

It’s been a long, winding road for my basement… It started over a year ago, when our foundation shifted and allowed a bunch of ground water to seep into the open area of our living space. It damaged a bunch of personal property and basically rendered the basement unliveable, which really sucked since I had my workout area AND my home office in our basement. This would have come in handy for the months where my current organization allowed for work-from-home conditions. Your can see the original basement and some of the progress in a previous post entitled Home Is Where The Cost Is. But I digress…

This short video shows the finished (basically) product of our basement renovations. Not only do I have a second, functional bathroom once again but the completed renovations will also allow me to once again have a home office from which I can occasionally work. I’m quite impressed with the work that’s been done and I have to give a shoutout to Grasshopper Construction for all their hard work and skill. ☯

Another “How Did I Get Here” Moment…

As with all things in life, our motivation can change to reflect our current situation in life. When someone studies the martial arts for decades, their reason to continue doing it can be significantly different from the reason behind why they started. this can apply to a number of things in one’s life, not least of which is blogging. I bring this up because I realized this morning that yesterday happens to be my 1000th post since starting this blog. I could have posted about it yesterday, but since it was Remembrance Day, I felt the attention should go to that. But once again I find myself asking, how did I get here…

I created this blog for a number of reasons. These reasons included the public’s ignorance of my chosen topics, which are Buddhism, Diabetes and the martial arts, with a healthy sprinkling of health & fitness thrown in. I mean the term “ignorance” by its purest definition, that many people simply don’t know a great deal about these topics and a blog provides me with the opportunity to share the information I’ve accumulated over my relatively short (but still feels long) life. It’s not meant as an offence or to slight anyone.

Over a period of time of almost three years, I’ve made connections and touched base with like-minded people through the blogging world, and I’ve learned a great deal as well. My presence here has enabled me to not only increase and maintain my writing and research skills but has allowed me the opportunity to become a follower to many very talented writers who share information in much the same way that I do. It’s been an added benefit of my continued efforts to post material on a daily basis, despite the increasing daily grind of life.

Hitting 1000 posts

I’ve noticed that one of the beautiful things about blogging, other than having a forum to express oneself and share information, is that there are a number of important milestones that the author can enjoy. These include number of followers, number of posts, length of time writing and more. It makes it easy to always find something to motivate one to write. My blogging journey has inspired me to better things and has even encouraged me to start gathering some thoughts of writing a book. Light help the world if someone actually decides to publish something I write.

Either way, it’s been an amazing journey and it’s far from over. My hope is that someday my children will be able to read these posts and gain some insight into their old man from way back when. Thanks to all those who have been reading and following, including my YouTube channel (also called “The Blogging Buddhist”). Y’all keep reading ‘em. I’ll keep writing ‘em. here’s to the next 1,000 posts. ☯️

Remembrance Day

Remembrance Day always holds a bit of a special place in my heart. It’s a day dedicated to the memory of armed forces members who have died in the line of duty. It’s always been special to me, even during my childhood, by virtue of my grandfather being a veteran of World War II. Given that this is the first year that I am a veteran myself, the day takes a bit of a deeper meaning. I could into detail about the origins of this day, including how it was established by King George V after World War I in 1919. But instead, I really much rather focus on my grandfather…

My grandfather Lionel Poirier, in uniform

My grandfather was old school. He worked all the trades, including carpentry and blacksmithing. He worked for the local paper mill, back home in Dalhousie, New Brunswick. He ironically met my grandmother when he was arranged to marry her sister. Obviously, things didn’t go as planned. They got married shortly before my grandfather shipped out to Europe during World War II. When he returned home, he and my grandmother grew a large family that included seven children, one of which is my mother.

I grew up listening to my grandfather’s stories about the war. He was never shy to provide explicit detail despite my age, claiming that shielding me from the realities of what freedom cost was foolish and that I deserved to know what it took to keep the world free from tyranny. I sat quietly and listened to his stories while he worked the wood he used to build furniture, which he sold. His wooden swings and lawn chairs can still be seen here and there in the North Shore area of New Brunswick. I have no words for the love and admiration I have for that man.

In some ways, a lot of ways, my grandfather was the inspiration for the direction my life has taken. Wanting to help and protect others became an ambition for me, thanks to the stories and the bravery instilled in me by his example. That’s why this day is important. More than just an excuse to wear a poppy or attend a public ceremony, we get to enjoy many of the freedoms we have today, thanks to brave individuals like my grandfather.

Sadly, my grandfather passed away in 2013. But his example and influence lives on in me, as I’m sure it does with the others in our family. To my Canadian readers, takes time to observe this day. Stay away from Christmas decorations and other social focus and remember those who left their families and loved ones behind to go keep the world safe. War is never a good thing. But if and when it happens, we can all sleep a little easier knowing that men like my grandfather fought to end it. ☯️