Silken Laumann2013-05-22T14:42:46-04:00Silken Laumannhttp://www.huffingtonpost.ca/author/index.php?author=silken-laumannCopyright 2008, HuffingtonPost.com, Inc.HuffingtonPost Blogger Feed for Silken LaumannGood old fashioned elbow grease.Rick Hansen: A True Sainttag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.15484142012-05-29T11:49:09-04:002012-07-29T05:12:04-04:00Silken Laumannhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/silken-laumann/Rick Hansen 25th Anniversary Relay. The relay celebrates the 25th anniversary of the Man In Motion World Tour while also bringing together 7,000 individuals in this country who have done something to contribute to their communities.
These are people like Jeneece Edroff who has raised millions of dollars to build Jeneece Place where sick children and their families can go.
I handed off to a woman from the Squamish First Nation; she ran with an eagle feather in her hand and a small photograph of her son, Frank, who had died from complications of a spinal cord injury. She was grateful to the creator and for the Blusson Spinal Cord Centre which gave her son and his family 18 months together.
I walked with George Cohon, founder of McDonald's in Canada and a huge lifelong supporter of Rick Hansen and his dream.
I ran Olympics next to a woman whose name I never got as she wheeled determinedly up and down hills of downtown Vancouver, not losing her focus for one moment. You couldn't help but focus on her ability, not her disability. And this is one of many things Rick Hansen has taught us -- to see how connected we all are, to see whatever the disability that people have, we still have the same kind of hopes and dreams for our lives. Everybody deserves to access these opportunities. The difference between sitting in a wheelchair and walking freely down a busy street is as quick as a blink of an eye; the difference between us and any countless circumstances is one gene, one chromosome, one split second in time.
Rick Hansen has inspired me personally in so many ways. He is a hero. Sometimes I think he is a saint. He has done more in one short lifetime than generations of people have done in many. Not only has he raised millions and millions of dollars for spinal cord research, he has championed accessibility around the globe; he has changed peoples minds. He has changed the way we see people in wheelchairs.
All over the world there have been ramps that have been built, schools that have been opened and people given the opportunity to live full and productive lives. This thinking has been changed because of Rick's example, his fearlessness in the areas of accessibility and opportunity for people with spinal cord injuries. Rick will be the first to remind you that he did not do this alone, he did this with others. He credits his team for the phenomenal achievements that have been made to these last 25 years. The leader has been Rick Hansen.
So you have to forgive me if part of me wants to see this man sainted. But at the same time I know better than that. To move him into the category of saint would make him better than us. And that lets us off the hook. Ultimately, Rick in all his inspiration, goodness and hard-edged determination is just a man.
If he is going to inspire us, and he will, it's because we connect to him as a human being. Watching Rick we can't help but ask ourselves -- if this is what Rick can do with his life what can I do with mine?]]>Willpowertag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.14288992012-04-17T09:54:16-04:002012-06-17T05:12:01-04:00Silken Laumannhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/silken-laumann/Willpower by Roy F. Baumeister and John Tierney. My partner David thinks this is hilarious, since I am, apparently, the most willful person he has ever met.
Rather than argue with him or elaborate on the difference between willpower and willful, I accept that all sorts of slights are made towards highly disciplined people. They don't know how to have fun, they are inflexible in their thinking, they are bull-headed, and they lack spontaneity. I would like to debunk these ideas by stating that willpower, as boring a trait as we may perceive it, is in fact what can lead us to a fuller more meaningful life. A bold statement. In my world, willpower is connected to some of my life's greatest moments, its most magical insights. It is even connected with my spirituality.
Willpower is a trait that allows us to stick with things long enough to reap the deeper benefits of a particular practice, the trait that helps us access more information and a level of excellence that brings greater rewards. Willpower has a less lauded poor cousin: winning habits. These are habits we establish in our life that help us preserve our willpower for bigger tasks.
Our willpower is not infinite and it can be easily depleted by making little decisions all day long. In the book they call this "decision fatigue" and if you think for a minute, its just common sense that after deciding again and again, we get fed up. If you have ever gone shopping with somebody like my daughter Kate, who needs to canvas every store before making her final decision, you will understand this feeling; suddenly two hours in you just don't care anymore -- and I buy the $60 shoes.
According to Willpower, even judges are prone to this kind of decision fatigue. As the day wears on, they are more likely to make the easier, safer decision. Researchers at Columbia University looked for patterns in when prisoners received parole. Prisoners who appeared early in the morning received parole about 65 per cent of the time. Another fascinating observation was made. Prisoners who appeared on the parole board directly after a snack break or a lunch break also had a better chance. The exact cause is unclear, but researchers suggest willpower is depleted by repeated decision making but it is replenished by food. Once we are depleted of glucose, we look for reasons to postpone decisions and look for the easiest option (in the judges' case, keep prisoners in prison). The book is worth a read and confirms what many of us may have already observed about willpower, we do not have endless resources of it, so we should conserve our willpower for when it matters. It also makes a convincing connection between willpower and food; when we don't have glucose in our bodies, our willpower becomes noticeably depleted.
This also confirms some of the ideas I have spoke about in the past, notably that it is important to focus on one big goal at a time, and not try to revamp every area of our lives all at once. If we are using a huge amount of energy to lose weight, or begin a mediation practice, it is probably not the best time to take on a huge new challenge at work.
I try to preserve my willpower for the really big things, like writing a new book, or creating a completely new presentation. When it comes to daily activities that I want to accomplish, I don't leave these up to willpower, I rely on winning habits. I create an environment that makes it near impossible not to succeed. I work out at a specified time three days out of seven. I drive my daughter to the bus stop at 7:00 a.m. and then go straight to the gym. I wake up at the same time every morning, because if I get up at that time everyday I don't have to spend 20 minutes battling with myself and depleting my willpower before I get up anyway. I create a set time for yoga and for meditation, and although my practice may only be 10 minutes, it happens everyday. I get dressed in work clothes everyday that I am working, even though I may only be working from home. These are small habits, but because they are habits, they don't require an internal battle each and every time I go to do them. I have little rules that I follow quite easily, I don't drink during the week, I eat cake on Friday and weekends, I drink one coffee a day. These are tiny things, but because they are habits I don't have to resist anything, I just follow the program. I make room for parties and special occasions, but I always do a little balancing out of these pleasures with a little extra hard work.
I see how powerful willpower is in my children's lives. My daughter was born with it and when she is focused on something she will give up any temporary pleasure to achieve the thing she is focused on. Kate has many talents, but reading was a Herculean struggle for her. Her willpower has pushed her to read almost at grade level, despite her significant challenges in the area. I can't help but consider this early challenge a gift as it has strengthened her will enormously. For my son, willpower has been a bit more of a struggle, but I now see how giving him weekly chores, and making him earn his rewards, has strengthened his willpower. He has had to wait for things that he wants, something that is directly connected to willpower; you can have that, but you can only have it later, once you have earned it. Almost 15, he has become much more disciplined in his approach to school and sport as he begins to see the connection between willpower and extraordinary experiences. Recently, his first six months of extra practices in rowing were rewarded by a trip to the San Diego Crew Classic. When he came back he seemed to stand a little taller and show more pride in his high school and his teammates.
Willpower is something we can build in ourselves and encourage in our children. It is something that helps us access the truly extraordinary experiences in life. Understanding the connection between glucose and willpower is an important realization. If we don't eat, we don't think well and often, we don't behave well. We are more likely to fly off the handle with our teenagers after skipping lunch and coming home from a day of making difficult decisions at work. Stopping for a healthy shake before we walk in the door might be just the remedy we need for a better relationship with our children. Since reading this book I have been experimenting with food and my own willpower. When I have a protein shake before walking in the door, I am much more disciplined with my emotions and patient of the trials and tribulations of our four children (all teenagers!), the Saint Bernard, and all the other wonderful creatures that inhabit our home (that is another story)!
]]>Blow Up the School Systemtag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.13421642012-03-14T10:52:04-04:002012-05-14T05:12:01-04:00Silken Laumannhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/silken-laumann/
I said this to a teacher friend of mine this morning; a man who is taking a year of medical leave for a stress disorder akin to burnout. Blow it up; start over. There is so much wrong with what is happening in our system today that to start with the same foundation would be like attempting to take a dilapidated colonial home and turn it into an award-winning contemporary design.
As Margaret Wente said last week in the Globe and Mail, "Our schools are run like a bunch of factories from the early industrial age." I can't help but think of my sporting days and how the terrible burden of huge administration in our sport community crippled the teams' results in the early '80s. After a dismal performance in the Seoul Olympics the entire Rowing Canada staff was fired, and the system was rebuilt from the ground up. Financial accountability was the theme for many years. In 1989, I had to pay my own way to the world championships where I placed fourth. These kinds of cost-saving measures were brutal for the athletes, the life-time sport bureaucrats and many of the coaches, but by year's end, enough money was reallocated to hire two fine head coaches who began to make their own decisions on how to build a winning team. Our coaches prioritized where money was spent. As the new volunteer leadership was built, the belief was that the coaches knew what their team needed to win. Their wisdom proved itself four years later when our team won four gold medals and my bronze.
I know enough teachers to believe that great principals and teachers know exactly what is not working in their classroom, and have a pretty good idea how to fix it. The great principals I have met are leaders, not administrators, who set a tone of excellence within the school. They are limited though, by constant cuts, having to make difficult choices like whether to have art or should we have music. Due to cutbacks, my son did not have art in his entire middle school education -- a fact I find unacceptable, but not remarkable. After all, when I wrote my book, Child's Play, I was given a first-hand look at how little physical education is actually happening in the schools. I learned about the devastating cutbacks to physical education that happened over a decade ago, where specialists were taken out of the elementary schools, and roving physical education teachers were cut by two-thirds in British Columbia.
Where does it stop, and when do we as parents say enough is enough? We want a new education system. A system that inspires excellence and one that rewards the remarkable efforts of so many of our teachers who have no rewards for their exceptional commitment and innovation. My girlfriend Corinna Stevenson was given the Prime Minister's Award for Teaching Excellence almost a decade ago. That same year, she received a pink slip because her seniority was not enough to protect her from staff cuts. Although eventually she was kept on, the experience tainted her view of the public school system. Happily she continues to lead young people through a school she and her husband created called the Vancouver Island Experiential Wilderness (VIEW) Program, designed to provide struggling teens with an alternative to traditional, classroom-based teaching.
And here is an idea. Education should be exciting, education should be inspiring. Most of us can remember the one class that got us all fired up, the one teacher that made us believe anything was possible. Our kids deserve more of this: great teaching, inspiring material, and relevant curriculum. My son is studying the same math I did 30 years ago. As my 12-year-old daughter astutely commented yesterday, what's the purpose of this anyway? Many of us 40-somethings were asking that three decades ago.
My partner and I have four children between us, and they have been through many versions of the education system: co-op preschool, Montessori, public elementary school, private school. None of these systems is perfect, but I know for sure that my one daughter who is in private school is getting a better education for two reasons: there are 18 people in her classroom, and she consistently has great teachers. In her school, teachers who don't perform are not teaching the next year.
Private school is not for every child, and most parents can't afford it. Why shouldn't all our kids have great teaching, inspiring leadership, relevant curriculum and exiting extracurricular activities? This is possible when money is spent wisely and reallocated to the teachers and the students. If Canadians had more faith that their money was well spent, I expect more of us would be willing to pay more money for something world-class. Our education system is not world-class, and it should be. In Canada we have the resources, the freedom, and the talent to create an education system that is amongst the most innovative, accessible and inspiring in the world. We have to care more, each of us as parents and members of our communities. In our days already packed with kids, driving, work, and sports, we have to find the energy to tell our government and our school we want better.
I believe there are enough fabulous teachers and principals out there that we can have an outstanding school system. I have visited over 200 schools in the last 10 years, speaking about personal excellence. I have met teachers who fought and found resources for their inner-city classrooms. I have met principals who worked with other principals to pool money and hire a physical education teacher between them; my children had the privilege of going to a public elementary school whose leadership was amongst the best I have seen. Let these excellent teachers and principals lead us in the development of a rebuilt school system.
]]>Taking Action on Obesitytag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.13198352012-03-06T09:38:06-05:002012-05-06T05:12:01-04:00Silken Laumannhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/silken-laumann/70% of Canadians will be overweight or obese. (Calgary Herald) This really got my attention. I know Dr. David Butler Jones; he is a fine man, not prone to hyperbole. He is absolutely passionate about the health of Canadians, especially kids. He has been advocating for increased physical activity and better eating habits for Canadians for at least a decade. To put this in perspective for myself, I calculated that in 2023 my children will be adults ranging from 23 to 27 years old. They will be living in a world where the vast majority of people could be living with heart disease, type II diabetes, joint degeneration, high blood pressure and other ailments directly related to poor lifestyle.
We can't reverse this obesity curve and inactivity today, but we can make today the day it stops getting worse. That in itself is a decision. Make today the first day of not getting worse. Maybe that means you walk around the block once; maybe that means you find a soccer ball and kick it around the garage with your kids for 10 minutes; maybe you say no to pop and junk food just for today. Cut through the overwhelming choices and make a single commitment towards a healthier life for yourself, for your kids, for your partner. Cook a meal, pass on the pre-bedtime snack, and decide today that you are going to stop getting worse. It doesn't sound like much of a commitment, but if we all did it, we would begin to build hope that we can gain control of obesity in our population.
In my considerable experience with goal setting, I know that it is best to focus on a single goal at a time. New research confirms that subjects who worked on a goal in one area of their life were far more successful than subjects who made several goals in many areas of their life. So how about committing to walking around the block for 20 minutes once this week, and twice next week until you reach four times a week. You may even decide that once you have your winter coat, gloves and hat on, you might as well walk a little longer. Maybe you want to start with food. How about replacing your morning cappuccino with low-fat milk, and skipping the sugar? How about doing this for a few weeks before switching to an Americano, or even better, green tea? Maybe coffee isn't your thing; maybe you can vow to eat six small meals instead of three bigger ones, perhaps you want to address your Cola habit, or your dependence on packaged foods.
My bugaboo is chocolate. I love it and I eat it everyday, but I would be willing to give it up today, absolutely and completely, if I knew it was going to make a generation of kids healthier. I can't do it for you, and no one can do it for another. Singularly, we need to make a commitment to ourselves and to our families to create a healthier generation. It starts with a single action, an action that each of us is more than capable of taking. Let's stop talking about obesity and make one decision that begins to reverse the trajectory so our children grow into strong healthy adults, not a generation of adults who will cripple the health care system.
]]>The Voice of Calmtag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.13056132012-02-28T15:08:31-05:002012-04-29T05:12:01-04:00Silken Laumannhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/silken-laumann/
There I was enjoying my morning almond milk latte, fighting off a sore throat, the fatigue of a weekend of driving kids in Vancouver traffic, still heavy in my body. I sat scribbling the week's commitment list, trying to make sense of the competing priorities for the week. Should I go to my daughter's parent information night, or my step-daughter's high school preparation meeting? Should I work on my new book, or finish a keynote presentation?
I started to feel the same feeling of being overwhelmed that had overtaken me in the IKEA parking lot on the weekend. After dropping off my 12-year-old with returns at the store entry, I circled for a full 15 minutes looking for a parking spot when all traffic came to a standstill while three cars ahead of me waited for another three cars to pull out. Another six minutes and I became frantic, screaming at the steering wheel of my car and cursing IKEA, parking lots and the absolutely overwhelming crowds of people in IKEA, in Science World where I had just come from with my daughter, and on the ferry where I was just going.
I hadn't lost it like this for several years, and I was shocked at the level of rage I could feel for my car and all things crowded and busy. I knew this was not about the parking lot, or IKEA, Science World or the stress of spending a weekend in a city I did not know with my GPS RECALCULATING, RECALCULATING each time I missed a turn. I didn't know what the problem was. I just knew I felt stressed, and harried, and a wee bit resentful. And then I read it:
"When you worry, there is static coming through your mind radio. God's song is the song of calmness. Nervousness is the static; calmness is the voice of God speaking to you through the radio of your soul." --- Paramahansa Yogananda
And in an instant I connected back to that calmness, that spiritual richness that is there for me anytime, anyplace, even in an IKEA parking lot, should I choose to reach for it. That peace, the strength, the calm, is accessible always, it is there, and I only have to open my heart to it. Suddenly it didn't seem so important when or what I did first, how fast I did it, or how perfectly I organized it.
In the gym, I was aware that there were six different televisions with six different channels competing for my attention as I worked out. As I write this blog, my messenger alert has appeared six times, my phone has rang twice, and a tiny honk alerting me to text messages has honked three times. Our digital age and fast-paced lives seem to conspire against any of us finding the calmness of the universe.
Perhaps that is why we see a revival of yoga in North America; a yoga mat swung over a shoulder is an everyday appearance on our city streets. I have been practicing for six years now, and if I ever do teach, I will call my class "Yoga For The Inflexible," but that is another subject all together. Yoga is about moving to get still, it is about breathing and it is about discovering. Discovering that inner chatter, discovering where the body is stuck, discovering where the breath stops moving. And in the silence of corpse pose I rediscover the peacefulness of just being, alone with my breath, connected to the creator, the energy that put me here and guides my life. I am grateful to be reminded that beneath the parking lots, the appliances that beep, beyond the Day-Timer I stare at without comprehending, there is the voice of calmness.
Namaste.
]]>My Autistic Child Has Never Had A Friendtag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.12703722012-02-15T17:15:34-05:002012-04-16T05:12:01-04:00Silken Laumannhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/silken-laumann/
Kilee has never been invited to a birthday party, or a Christmas party, or a play date with a child her age. When I came into Kilee's life four years ago as her full-time stepparent, I thought this was unique to Kilee. After all, Kilee was prone to outbursts -- she could roar and stomp with the best of them, an expression of frustration that was a little "abnormal" as a toddler but downright impressive and even scary when she grew in height and stature. If she really got going she would pull out chunks of her own hair, and if you got to close to her at these times, she might pull out a chunk of somebody else's.
At one time or another, she has left an impression on pretty well every classroom or sports team she has been part of. So I kind of got it, that Kilee could be a handful, and maybe she intimidated others with her displays of intensity. And then there is language, or lack of it, a pretty hard bridge to cross when communicating to someone who has trouble responding to questions, never mind initiating conversation.
The Kilee I know, though, has a beautiful spirit and a sweetness that makes her easy to love. My sister Daniele said it to me the other day: "I fell in love with her instantly!" The smallest of things delight her -- a handful of her favorite nut makings, the suggestion of doing her craft beads, the music on her iPod. There are not many teenagers of 15 that express their joy and affection for others as openly as Kilee does. Kilee brings a lot of joy to our lives and I am certain that there are kids who are empathetic and patient enough to appreciate her gifts.
Kilee is showing her dad and me that she wants to socialize with kids her own age. Every time one of my children's friends would come over, she lights up, often she starts laughing, or blush with excitement. As Andre Picard wrote in an article in the Globe and Mail about the isolation of a special needs child, friendship seems to be more difficult for kids with special needs as they get older.
Teenagers want to hang out with other teenagers and do things, and there are so many things Kilee can't do. They also become more independent about who they want to hang out with, and parents' messages about inclusion can't be forced onto them. As our kids have gotten more involved with sleepovers at friends' houses and parties on weekends, the gap between Kilee's life and that of a neurologically normal child seems to have gotten much larger.
My children play with Kilee, they will play Jenga Kilee's way -- which is to scream with delight when the wooden tower of blocks crashes to the ground; my daughter will help Kilee colour and paint; they both will walk the dog with her or take her on a run skiing. Kilee loves when my kids play with her, and I wonder if she realizes this is family, not friends; and I wonder if it matters.
I long for another child to love Kilee just for who she is, to share her delight at bursting bubbles, at pouring paint out of the container, over and over and over again. I long for Kilee to have a friend who isn't afraid of her when she escalates, or suddenly bites her hand and stomps her feet. Sometimes, as our other three children plan their weekend around sleepovers and parties, I wish for it as much as I have wished for anything for my other children.
The longer that I think about it, the more I wonder if the problem is not Kilee but my own perception of what Kilee should have from life, my own biased judgment about what a good life looks like. I observe Kilee's isolation, but I don't always reflect on the many positive interactions she has with other teenagers on a weekly basis -- a young girl at school who chooses to come into Kilee's classroom and read magazines with her each week.
I remember seven-year-old Molly last week, laughing with Kilee as they played Angry Birds on the iPod together; I think about dance class and the four special girls who dance each week with Kilee, how they hold her hand as she enters the circle, led by the beautiful energy of her teacher Tracy. These are friends. Perhaps not in the same way that the other kids have friends who sleep over or talk on the phone together, but friends. These teenage girls know Kilee, they dance with her, they join her when she is laughing, and look at her quizzically and ask what's wrong if she cries. I think of Megan, an adult friend who has chosen to stay in Kilee's life since she was born, taking her for walks, to her home for dinner, to the park to play.
Maybe it is my own fear, my fear that Kilee will be alone, that no one will love her, which feeds my insecurity about her relationships. After all, for all the people who approach Kilee with fear, or indifference, there are many others in her life who treat her with respect, forgive her outbursts and seek to build a relationship with her. Loneliness is the greatest disability a person can have, and with all the challenges Kilee already has, I want her to have one of life's greatest joys -- real friendship. Maybe one day Kilee will develop a friendship, one that is give and take, and one that is lasting and joyful. On the other hand, perhaps I need to celebrate the simple fact that there are people in Kilee's life who love her, and love is powerful regardless of whether it is coming from a parent, a stepsister, a caregiver or a friend.
]]>Can Sports Raise Middle-Eastern Women's Self-Esteem?tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.12259392012-01-24T07:59:19-05:002012-03-25T05:12:01-04:00Silken Laumannhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/silken-laumann/Globe and Mail this week, I was absolutely delighted to see the centre section with a two- page spread of the intense faces of three female Iranian athletes in the full concentration of a rugby game. The intensity and sheer physical determination of these women jumped off the page, and it filled me with hope that young women in all countries will one day have the right to experience the joy of sport.
After months of reading only the bad news about women not being allowed to drive in Saudi Arabia, not having basic human rights in Afghanistan, not being able to keep their own children in the case of divorce in Iran, women sentenced to jail for challenging the right to vote, or constantly threatened with violence or death just for speaking out; it lifted me to see these healthy, athletic women, still in hijabs, exerting themselves enthusiastically and athletically after the ball.
The article that followed was not that encouraging -- talking about the erosion of women in sport under the current regime. It highlighted the Iran of the 1960s when the rights of women were progressive and where women and girls could play sport unencumbered by rules such as what they're facing today -- girls can only play inside, women shouldn't be seen playing sport, or even the outright banning of a particular sport.
Filmmaker Faramarz Beheshti was interviewed about his upcoming film Salam Rugby, which gives a glimpse into modern Iranian society where the rights of women continue to erode, by the Globe and Mail. Beheshti said, "These women are incredibly spirited and lively, but you can see the damage done by 32 years of this archaic regime...there is a carpet of sadness over these girls lives." I look forward to seeing the movie.
I have witnessed first-hand the lives of girls changed by a community's willingness to give girls a chance. In Pakistan, "Right To Play" runs programs in Peshawar and Quetta that have over 20,000 girls regularly playing sport and learning through the power of play. Women and girls who play sport build self-esteem, the very thing that will have them stand up for their rights, not accept abuse, and push for more freedom for their own children.
When "Right To Play" first came to Pakistan, there was so much resistance to girls playing in public view that a wall around the outdoor play area had to be constructed. Five years later the wall has come down, and the community has become a huge supporter of "Right To Play" and the important role sport and sport leadership contributes to their community. Most women who have played sport in this country for the last 30 years have seen how attitudes towards girls and women can profoundly and positively shift over a single decade.
In the early 80s, when I lifted weights in the boiler room at University of Western Ontario, I had to put up with a few cat calls and guys who would go out of their way to make me feel uncomfortable as I worked around their loud grunting and slamming of barbells. But the female rowers before me had already laid claim to the right to lift in this space and to be respected; I benefited. In 1984, the women's distance was finally changed from 1000m to the same 2000m that the men rowed.
I expect that there are female rowers today that have no idea that the distances used to be different, never mind the trailblazing that brought forward this change. It's ironic that in Canada in the 21st century we too still needed trailblazers like Sarah Burke to allow women to compete in the half-pipe in skiing.
I can't imagine what it is like to live in a country whose regime makes it illegal to play sports and to experience the sheer joy of playing. Things can change, and they will, but only if we all keep pushing to keep these stories of women around the globe in our papers; that we keep joining together to promote the importance of sport and play for the health of women and girls; and we remember that we may live thousands of miles away from one another, and be separated by religion or culture, but we are joined by our humanity and our respect for one another.
]]>Mom, Why Am I Fat?tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.12108762012-01-18T16:55:28-05:002012-03-19T05:12:01-04:00Silken Laumannhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/silken-laumann/advertisement running in Georgia. The next caption says 75 per cent of Georgia parents with overweight kids don't recognize the problem. Stop sugarcoating it, Georgia.
The ad is shocking, as are all the other ads in this campaign, which are aimed at jolting Georgians out of their lethargy around obesity levels that are the second highest in the country. These ads are upsetting to watch, and certainly the fact that it is children who are appearing in the ads make them even more controversial. The ads have created quite a stir of late on the Internet and have been discussed on The Today Show amongst others.
It is even more upsetting for me, though, to see the hundreds and thousands of children whose lives are compromised by obesity. These children might not understand how hypertension, type 2 diabetes, joint disease and overall ill health will negatively affect the quality and length of their lives. What they already know, though, is that the negative social implications of being obese are significant. Children I have interviewed for my book Child's Play talk about having no friends and hating school. I have known many obese children in my work as an advocate for play and physical activity and I can honestly say that all of them have had their self esteem and their sense of possibility eroded by their weight. So, is it cruel to make fun of kids because they are fat? Yes, but it is far more cruel not to help these children and their families identify and address the problem.
There has been a huge amount of research, debate and dialogue around the causes of childhood obesity. As of yet, nobody has a definitive answer about how best to keep it from eroding the lives of millions of children. It is accurate to say that obesity is a complex issue, often involving everything from food choices, accessibility of sports programs, quality of physical education, socioeconomics, role models and genetics.
What we do know is that kids need to move more. We know that just as the rate of obesity has risen, the physical activity levels of children have plummeted. Everything from phys. ed. teachers in the schools, playgrounds in the school yards, and after school sports have been on the chopping block these last two decades, and frankly it has harmed our kids -- a lot.
As an advocate of healthy, active kids, I have put the most emphasis on being active because I think that when a kid moves a lot and has fun playing, they make different choices. They have less time to eat, they have more connection to their bodies and don't feel like filling up on crap. They are also often learning about good nutrition through their coaches, their physical education programs and their sporty peers. This does not mean that good food is always available at home. There are many places in our country where a quart of milk is $10 and a bag of apples cost more than a family dinner at McDonald's. We have to work to change that, as we have to work on changing many systemic problems in this complex issue.
What I know for sure is that kids that move regularly are healthier and happier. I know that kids who are getting an hour of exercise every day are far, far less likely to be overweight, I know that physical activity, outside play and a love of movement are a huge piece of a happy, healthy life for a child and for us adults.
]]>Things I Am Proud of in 2011tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.11789102012-01-03T12:33:53-05:002012-03-04T05:12:01-05:00Silken Laumannhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/silken-laumann/
The list titled "Things I Am Proud of in 2011" also includes slightly more challenging accomplishments such as obtaining my NLP training, recovering completely from a chronic muscular imbalance and sticking to the thrice-weekly yoga program. Some of the things on my list are purely professional, like writing a 3,000 word article for every issue of Motivated Magazine, or creating a totally new keynote address, but most are personal.
I started making a yearly list six years ago when I was up skiing for the New Years holidays. My friend and I got talking about New Years resolutions, primarily on how many we hadn't stuck to. We both had a tendency to create resolutions that were primarily aspirational, things so big that they would take years to actually accomplish.
In our culture we simply don't celebrate enough. We don't reflect enough about what we are proud of, what we are grateful for, what we have already accomplished. Before making a new list of what we want to achieve, I think it is essential that we take some time to reflect on what we have already achieved.
My yearly list highlights where I have spent my energy, what I have prioritized and what has gotten my attention. It is very easy to let a year slip by and not acknowledge how much that year has actually held, how many small victories have been won, the advances we have made in the direction of a dream. Most people think of an accomplishment as something really big, but I think an accomplishment is anything you have done to move you forward in your life, whether it is leaving a destructive relationship, taking a course, or writing your first article for a magazine. I have succeeded in many of my goals by acknowledging the teeny weeny steps I have taken, by patting myself on the back and celebrating the smallest of accomplishments.
We spend much of our mental energy beating ourselves up for the things we are not, for the times we have failed or disappointed ourselves. I think we could put that energy to far better use by changing the focus to find some things we are proud of. That brings me back to the list: Things I Am Proud of in 2011. Why not make your own before starting a second list: "Things I Would Like to Achieve in 2012."
]]>Concussions: A Serious Injurytag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.11753562012-01-03T02:39:35-05:002012-03-03T05:12:01-05:00Silken Laumannhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/silken-laumann/Mt. Washington in British Columbia alone on a glorious sunny day when I caught an edge and veered out of control off the groomed part of the trail, where I immediately saw a gulley, couldn't jump it, and landed -- splat -- into the hard, icy snow, my head going forward fast and then back.
Usually when I fall, I get up pretty fast, dust off the snow and get on with it. This time though, I felt kind of mellow and unmotivated to get up. I did an inventory of my body and nothing seemed bruised or broken; I didn't even have snow burn, but still I just couldn't make myself get up. I called my partner, who didn't answer his phone, and then I tried to shake off my daze. Eventually, I did get up and while I skied back to the base I felt really weird, kind of shaken up and wobbly. I felt like crying, which was also weird because nothing really hurt.
When I met my partner, who was with a ski instructor, both advised that I go to the first aid hut and get checked out. That seemed a little dramatic to me; after all, there was no blood, no broken bones, no bruises, but I complied. I realize now that I complied because I had just read a huge article in the Globe and Mail about concussions in hockey that had been in my awareness and so I did go to first aid. I did indeed have a concussion and the first aid volunteers were very knowledgeable and insisted I stay until they had properly accessed my condition.
The day before, I had gone over a very small jump, lost my balance and slammed into a tree (there is a reason I became an Olympic rower and it may have to due with lack of aptitude in other sports!). I kind of bounced off the tree, actually, and the damage seemed to be minimal. I did however, slam my head briefly onto the snow, but didn't think much of it and I skied the rest of the day. It turns out though, that the two falls were related, or more accurately the two slams to the head accumulated and the first made the second one worse.
What I have learned over the past few days is that a concussion is a serious injury and that many of us do not treat them seriously enough. We like to keep going, we like to keep playing and many of us, if we are not bleeding, just keep going. One blow to the head makes a person so much more vulnerable the next time. There is a young boy on the couch beside me at the ski resort and he has had three concussions in the last four months from playing hockey. He fell on his head earlier today and still wants to go out skiing with his brothers this afternoon. The two of us have been chatting about how serious concussions are and how they can lead to permanent damage. I hope he will not ski this afternoon.
So now I am at Mt. Washington and I am not skiing. It's kind of a drag because I love skiing, but I have chosen to enjoy myself anyway. I am walking the trails, writing, enjoying a good book and meeting the kids for lunch at the chalet. I am not putting myself at further risk because I was given the right care and information by first aid staff. I have also been influenced by everything I have been reading in the papers and the increased information available to all of us. I feel fine, but apparently my brain needs a few more days to heal and then I will ski again, with a new helmet and a much greater awareness of how to treat a head injury when I fall again!
]]>Random Acts of Kindnesstag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.11123042011-11-30T15:50:59-05:002012-01-30T05:12:02-05:00Silken Laumannhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/silken-laumann/Mount Washington with my girlfriend Karin when I chanced to look at my gas gauge. Chanced, may be a clue to the systematic way I remember my gas levels. The gas was getting pretty low and we had just left the main town of Courtenay, British Columbia. Karin's eyes went big, and she advised I get off the highway and find some gas immediately!
The day had already been long, and I was trying to get home in time for a Friday night date with my hubby. Like a horse coming home to the stable, my mind became totally focused on the fastest route home for date night. I wanted to find a gas station immediately adjacent to the highway. So, I pushed on, driving past the exit with the little gas sign on it. Immediately my gas signal light came on. Karin's face started to turn red.
Don't worry, I assured her, I have 50 km once this light turns on. That day we discovered there are no highway side stations for the 90 km between Courtenay and Nanaimo. As I drove on stubbornly, the light went from amber to red. Finally I decided to get off the highway and follow the exit signs to a gas station in Parksville. Only the station was very far from the highway. The less fuel we had the more red Karin became and the more this seemed to set us off in giggles. Going down small declines I put the car in neutral, which sent Karin into safety mode around braking. I put the hazard light on when Karin said, "Wouldn't it be funny if this little town gas station is closed on Sunday nights?" More giggles.
When we pulled into the gas station, no lights were displayed on the tanks, but the door of the little store was wide open. Karin suspected a robbery, particularly as two pickup trucks had zoomed out of the station moments before our arrival. Inside the store a tiny, elderly Chinese lady stood behind the store counter with a candle. When we asked about gas she said "no gas." When we asked how far to the nearest gas station, her son told us that a tree had collapsed over the bridge making it impossible to get into town, and taking the power down in the entire area. No power, no gas. No date night.
The men in my life who I have shared this story with don't understand how I could run out of gas, and certainly don't get why we found it funny. But we did, and there at 5 p.m. on a Sunday night, now dark thanks to the stupid daylight savings time, we were in a tiny town with no gas, no way of getting gas, and no hotels. And that's when a young women, also looking for gas said to us, "I have a Jerry can for my lawnmower." Not in the back of her car, but in her garden shed.
On her insistence she drove home, found the Jerry can which had about $5 of gas in it, and funneled it into our car. When I started the car, it was still on empty. We thanked her profusely, and she didn't want money, but we also knew we didn't have enough to get to the next station. At this point she said to us, "My boyfriend has more gas." And so, with us protesting the entire time, she called her boyfriend and he drove from 10 km away to meet us at the station. Ten minutes later the boyfriend arrived, a big burly guy in jeans and a baseball cap. He had a big Jerry can. He poured the contents of the can, roughly $20 of gas, into our car. Again, no money wanted. In fact when I went to hand him a bill, he almost started to run the other way.
While I was in the candlelit store buying some water and snacks for the ride home, Karin shared with the fellow and his lovely girlfriend that I was an Olympic athlete who did a lot for other people. "You're helping a good person" Karin said, and with this, he threw his arm around his girlfriend and disappeared into the night. Random acts of kindness happen anytime, anywhere, from all kinds of people.
Thank you again.
-Silken
]]>Women in the Newstag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.10892492011-11-15T15:33:57-05:002012-01-15T05:12:01-05:00Silken Laumannhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/silken-laumann/
I have listened to why women shouldn't be educated, why they shouldn't play sports and why they shouldn't drive or vote. Even in challenging these ideas one can be accused of not respecting religion or culture. I am sickened by it, sick of hearing that it is OK for a woman not to have basic human rights, for a woman to be denied the opportunity for education, health care, the opportunity to pursue her dreams and ambitions. I was so angry after reading about that horrific crime in Ontario that I had to paint. Painting is an emotional release for me.
So on Sunday, I painted a woman from Afghanistan, a photo a friend had shown me. Her face had been mutilated by her husband for suspected adultery. I painted her face back together, I added colour to her hijab, and sharpened her features. I strengthened her eyes, I made her body strong and hard, hard enough to defend herself. I painted a woman who couldn't be hurt. My daughters watched me paint this woman and asked what happened to her nose. I told them I was painting it back, "that 's good, mommy", my twelve year old Kate said, visibly relieved.
As I read these stories, I feel grateful that at least now I know that we are respecting these women enough to want to hear their stories, to take our anger and inspire people to do something. To raise money, to educate, to share what we know. Last year, my girlfriend here in Canada brought many friends together and raised thousands of dollars to help rape victims in Afghanistan bring their persecutors to justice. I am starting in a small way by supporting Right to Play's projects in Pakistan and Afghanistan. Five years ago, when Right To Play first worked in Pakistan, they had to build a fence around the girls play area. Attitudes in the community where they live and work have progressed far enough that they are done with the fence. Mothers who were at first reluctant to let their daughters play now have stood up and asked for more opportunities for their girls. We know that girls who play sports are more likely to stay in school and have higher self esteem.
Change may happen slowly, but I believe becoming more aware of what is happening to so many women around the world is an important first step.
]]>Let Kids Be Kids!tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.10205372011-10-21T09:27:13-04:002011-12-21T05:12:01-05:00Silken Laumannhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/silken-laumann/National Post ran an article last week on kid's health, titled "Are year-round sports taking toll on kids?" Parents are enrolling their kids into sports earlier and earlier, and the pressure to do more of a good thing is almost overwhelming. In the article, Dr. Murnaghan, an orthopaedic surgeon at Sick Kids, spoke to an alarming increase in overuse injuries in children. Logically, we can all grasp this, after all children's bodies are still growing and can have big gaps in things like core strength, fine motor control and overall strength.
Kids are being asked to do too much, too early, with far too much specialization.
My experience as a parent is that kids are being asked to specialize in a sport far too early. In B.C., if your child plays soccer, by the time they are 11 they will be divided into gold, silver and bronze teams. Apparently, this is when the league believes they are ready to be divided by ability. I disagree. This early division of teams separate friends from one another, sends late-developers the message that they aren't good at the sport, and causes boys and girls to drop the sport they love. Kids who are good at eight are not necessarily going to be the best kid at 15, and even if they are, why do they need to be separated into a gold team?
Parents can be over enthusiastic. They see that their kids like diving and suddenly they are at the pool six days a week with their eight-year-old. They do this because they want to help their child reach their full potential, but they are not necessarily thinking about what their child will feel about the same sport after 10 years of living and breathing the sport. How is this fun for anyone? Early specialization puts stress on the family (driving, rushed meals, stretched parents) and it creates an army of 10-year-old mini-elite athletes who will more than likely drop the sport by 15. Some kids who start intense sports early, drop sports early. Now I will give you that there is a tiny, tiny percentage of kids who want to become, and may well become, Olympic athletes. These kids will drive their involvement and push for more practice time, for coaching and can never get enough of the sport. We want to support the dreams and ambitions of this tiny percentage of kids, but we don't want to build our sports system around them.
I don't want to see eight-year-olds with shin splints and 10-year-olds with rotator cuff injuries, which can result from intensive training, but most of all, I want kids to have childhoods filled with physical play of all kinds, play that builds and develops the body in multiple ways so that it stays strong and healthy. I want to see more kids still loving sports in their teen years, not so disillusioned or bored that they drop out in the crucial years for social connection.
I observe a real split happening in sport today. There are the kids that are good at sports and their parents can afford it; these kids are going around the clock and asking to specialize in a sport. These kids are being asked to choose between track and synchro, or running and basketball, or rowing and volleyball. They move from two practices a week to five, and by the time they turn 15 they are encouraged to spend most of their active time perfecting their sport. Then there are the rest of the kids, who may not be physically talented, or may not have families that can afford to drive their kids to diving five days a week, or swimming every morning or soccer games each weekend. These are the kids we need to create opportunities for; these are the kids we need to protect from inactivity and obesity, so they can enjoy healthy and active childhoods.
Check out my book Child's Play: Rediscovering the joy of play in our families and communities.
]]>The Mystery of Cooking a Thanksgiving Turkeytag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.9993882011-10-08T08:18:04-04:002011-12-08T05:12:01-05:00Silken Laumannhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/silken-laumann/
Cooking has been slow to become my strong suit. Many years ago, when a friend became too ill to host a turkey dinner, it was my turn to join forces with my childhood friend Cam Harvey and tackle the mystery of cooking a turkey. The turkey itself was an awe inspiring thing, huge, naked and -- quite frozen. With only 18 hours to go before Thanksgiving dinner we hadn't really thought that one through. Who knew that turkeys don't melt in a matter of hours? The beast was far too large for Cam's apartment-sized microwave, but we came up with ingenious idea of thawing it in the bathtub. And so we filled the tub with hot water, and floated that 18-pounder while we turned our attention to the kitchen.
Cam brought up the detail of stuffing, at which point we looked blankly at one another. "It's time to call Kathy," he said. Kathy is Cam's mom, who had spent almost 20 years in the Mississauga Hospital with severe MS. Unable to cook a bird in her own kitchen, she seemed more than patient to coach us through our first bird. Cam and I huddled together listening to her detailed instructions about celery salt (what the heck is that!) and rosemary, dried bread, and black pepper; with as much awe and understanding as if she had read us the instructions for splitting the atom. It took two more calls until we got it right, but finally, with confidence we went our separate ways that night, believing that tomorrow, the actual cooking of the bird would be a cinch.
My first clue that things weren't going so smoothly was when Cam called out to me around 7:00 a.m., that the bird was still frozen. This seemed almost impossible, and yet, when I got to his place, there it was, still a layer of ice on its underside. Ten hours in a tub, and still a block of ice. We started to pour boiling water over the most frozen parts and that's when I thought I had better reach inside and look for ice. It was kind of neat, because when I reached inside there was a little package, sort of like a present, I thought, stuffed inside the bird. I opened the cloth package up and to my horror, out flopped a heart and two kidneys; "sweetmeats" pronounced Cam. We decided there was no other choice but to stuff the bird and put it in the oven early. Fortunately we had a crew coming to dinner and bringing the trimmings, so we decided to go for a hike while the bird cooked.
A frozen bird, takes a long while to cook, but seven hours later, I served my (our) first Thanksgiving turkey. It was delicious -- really, and the friendship and laughter of that Thanksgiving celebration so many years ago, remains central to the way I celebrate this holiday. Over the years friendships have changed and many have deepened, so that around our table, 30 loved ones will gather on Monday afternoon. That first year I learned that community cooking is the best kind, and each of my guests brings their special dish to share. I don't worry too much about the perfect turkey, because it seems, no matter what I do to the bird, I have been blessed with Turkey karma.
I have much to be grateful for, and amongst my greatest blessings are my husband, my children and my amazing friendships and Turkey karma.
]]>Sporting a New 'Do During Terry Fox Weektag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.9751742011-09-22T13:03:09-04:002011-11-22T05:12:01-05:00Silken Laumannhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/silken-laumann/Terry Fox was a young man who lost his leg to cancer, and began his campaign to end the disease by running across this great country. Terry captured our imagination and inspired a nation with his guts and courage, and although cancer ended his journey prematurely, we never forgot his words. With his voice choking back tears, he asked us to continue the journey he had to stop.
Each year, through the Terry Fox Run and the school run which happen across Canada each year, we revitalize Terry's dream and run one step closer to a cure for this disease that leaves no family untouched.
Last week my own heart was opened and my imagination inspired, by a 14-year-old girl named Cassidy. While most teens are busy worrying about their latest pimple, Cassidy has been busy raising money, giving away her allowances and birthday gifts and growing her hair long. Her 12-inch-long, sandy brown locks were sheared this weekend as part of the Terry Fox Great Canadian Hair "Do". The stylist who had the honour: yours truly. After a few tears, minutes before those beautiful locks were clipped, Cassidy was resolute and fabulous. I however, was shaking like a leaf, terrified I would graze her scalp or raze unevenly.
In the hour before this public event to celebrate Terry, and honour all those we have lost with cancer, and to support those battling cancer, Cassidy and I had a few minutes to chat. Cassidy has been a young social advocate for years. At age six she was giving her birthday money to homeless people in her community, by eight she was using her own allowances to add goodies to her mom's grocery cart, cans of tuna, beans and cereals that would be in turn donated to the local food bank. When her opa died, helping those with cancer became an intense passion. She raised money for various charities and then grew her hair for four years to have enough hair to make a wig for a child with cancer. Not only was Cassidy cutting her locks, both her sister and brother had joined forces with her; truly remarkable that each child found the courage to do this, and that they had found consensus between them.
As a parent, I marvel at the courage of these young people, and their ability to transcend the real insecurity and self consciousness of the teen years. Each would go back to school on Monday with a story to tell, but also with sideways looks from their school mates. My children are all teenagers and I am reminded daily of the importance of not embarrassing oneself or fitting in. Even the most self-confident young people struggle to get through the teen years without giving into self consciousness and some level of conformity. I have to wonder what kind of conversations go around the family dinner table in this family, where giving back seems to be a shared family value.
It is people like Cassidy and her family that inspire me today and inspire others to remember that Terry ran for everyone of us, and he asked us to continue his work when he had to stop running. Terry captured our imagination, just as Cassidy did this weekend, and through that powerful will and imagination we see for a moment what is possible, what is possible when we don't lay barriers down.
My daughter was so inspired by Cassidy that she has rekindled her passion for helping young mothers and wants to create a family project that will give food and clothing to these young families. Inspiration is contagious. This week when you walk, run or wheel to honour Terry Fox's journey, remember to talk to somebody you have never met, and ask them what their story is, inspiration can be found everywhere.
