outWORD by Matte Downey

When this happens, I have to choose which grammatical sin I'll have to make in order to send a tweet. Social media is very good at letting you know how much traction or clout you have, whether that is measured in likes, comments, retweets, numbers reached, followers, or shares. I like connecting with people via Facebook, I like writing this blog (most of the time) as a way of honing my communication skills while putting some ideas out there on subjects I am thinking about. I occasionally post on Twitter (my least favourite platform) and I love to post pictures on Instagram chronicling the interesting views I come across in life. At times, I do check how many readers on a particular blog, how many followers I have, and how many likes or favourites a post got. But it is a bit like seeing your salary in comparison to every one elses. Whereas before you might have been absolutely fine with how much you earned, when you see the numbers, discontentment is not far behind. Numbe...

Image from dreamtouchrenovations.com I am knee-deep in writing my doctoral thesis. Actually, it might be more accurate to say that the water is just beginning to lap at my ankles, but nevertheless, I wade into the muck of words on a regular basis and try to move forward. Moving forward is sometimes a bit complicated. A few weeks ago, our air conditioner did a very good impersonation of Niagara Falls and and spewed water all over the stairway. After taking the machine apart and fixing it for the eleven-hundredth time (it is old and needs tender loving care on a regular basis), I checked out the storage space underneath the stairs and found that the water had seeped through the floor and specks of mould were beginning to form on the drywall. Oh oh! It was the day before we were leaving for vacation, so we couldn't deal with it immediately. This past week we removed everything from the storage room (who knew such a small space could house a gazillion boxes of stuff that I didn...

Helloooooo !! I have been meaning to write a blog for a few days now, but with the boat-load of projects I have had on my plate lately (and still have), intent has not translated into action. However, with 3 of the 9 projects behind me, I believe I can leave the 6 to play unsupervised for a bit while I write something here. I watched a video of a talk by Dr. Brene Brown a few weeks back (or maybe only a week, I have very little concept of how fast time is passing) that got me thinking about the culture of scarcity that we live in. She talks about the messages we are bombarded with: we are never good enough, safe enough, certain enough, perfect enough, extraordinary enough. And the sad thing is, we believe these messages. We find it hard to be thankful, joyful, content, and at peace. She talks about how our desire for the extraordinary, the thrill, the special, has eclipsed our ability to value the ordinary in our lives. In fact, the ordinary is where we can find the most joy, she says...

We cancelled our cable television just over a month ago. The idea was that after we returned from our vacation, we would sign up with another provider who was offering a deal on satellite tv that included a free PVR . That hasn't happened. The truth is, we don't really miss it that much. The only times I miss watching TV is when I do my ironing. A home improvement show always made an unpleasant chore much more bearable and helped the time pass quickly. For a few weeks, I ironed in silence, facing the silent, dark TV screen. Not that great. Then I decided to watch a DVD while I did my weekly ironing. Six shirts and three pants were not really enough to get into a movie, so that idea kind of bombed. Last week, I tried something new. I set up the ironing board in the guest room, opened up the curtains, and did all my ironing in front of the patio doors which overlook our neighbourhood. While I ironed, I watched the sky, which is always changing this time of year. It started out...

I was on the subway a few days ago and noticed an older man with an odd hairstyle. Long, graying brown strands were tied in a thin ponytail at the back of his neck. There was nothing strange about this, but the top two-thirds of his head was covered with a thick, medium brown crown of straight, perfectly combed hair. The point at which the graying, uneven strands met the brown cap was obvious to me, even from a quick glance halfway across the subway car. I looked at this aging man for a few minutes, wondering why he would wear such a badly matched wig and trying to discern if it really made him feel better about himself. I came to no conclusions about him, but did come up with some questions about my own habits. We all do things to change our appearance slightly - for the better, we hope. I dye my hair, I wear make-up most days, I shave my legs (more often in summer than in winter), and I wear clothes that accent certain parts of my body and camouflage others. The goal is to have this ...

I landed back at home on Monday night. In the two days since my vacation officially ended, the treadmill of university life has been going at a steady, fast jog. I bought my books, attended my first Method in Theology class, met with my advisor, began my stint as a TA in Christian Spirituality, and finished notes on another Underhill book for my ongoing reading course. But before I leave the vacation totally behind, I want to savour a few of the moments in those ten days that stood out. They were not moments that one would normally think of when relating vacation highlights. They were not spectacular adventures, awe-inspiring views, or once-in-a-lifetime events. Or maybe they were. All I know is that these precious moments were offered to me like a finely prepared meal of grace and mercy, and I sought to partake of them as best I could. My mother has volunteered at a local personal care facility for many years, and she asked if we wanted to stop in and see an uncle that was now challe...

It was a warm and sunny day yesterday, so Dean and I walked to the grocery store and bought a few items. It gave me the greatest delight, for some reason, to tend to the small details of life like selecting a piece of fruit and buying toilet paper on sale, and to do it with a very agreeable companion. On Saturday I awoke with intense gratitude that I had arms and legs, air to breathe, eyes to see, and ears that could hear. What a wonder to be able to experience the world by moving through it, self-propelled. And what a plethora of vibrant and variegated sensory amazements awaits me everyday. I am a simple person at heart. I do not need much to be happy. I rarely go shopping for clothes (gifts and clothing exchanges account for much in my closet) and could eat the same diet of cereals, fruits, salad, and tea every day. I regularly give things away to avoid the feeling of claustrophobia that comes upon me when I see a stuffed closet or a crowded room. I believe I might have made...