Something about Mary Jane

Today was a little different than usual. Yes, I got up early, exercised, drank a lot of coffee and went to work, but I also went to a half day conference on Marijuana in the afternoon.

Now, Mary Jane, pot, mellow yellow and all the other names it goes by is currently a huge topic on Facebook and in politics. 

I have people asking me every day what my thoughts are and most people are genuinely curious, not knowing what to believe themselves.

To those people, I tell them what we know, which truly isn’t a lot. 

There is a handful of good studies out there and they know some of the pathways via which the different parts are thought to work. We know some people find it effective while others can’t tolerate it or don’t feel any improvement. 

But that isn’t what people are seeing and hearing around them right now.

They’re seeing reports about how it cures everything from cancer to dandruff and it’s all ‘natural’. 

It’s the new vitamin D and advertisers are out in full force for different medical companies. 

I’m sure when and if it becomes legalized the number of producers will explode. Today I heard that there are over 500 ready and waiting for approval and my jaw hit the floor. 

Five hundred people who are ready to provide a product that isn’t even legal yet. 

Business and ethics aside, that’s a lot of very brave people!

The last talk of the conference was wonderful. The speaker was witty and wise, very accomplished and uses cbd oil mainly for treating chronic pain. 

While the evidence is still spotty, it does appear to be at least as effective as narcotics, which are not nearly as effective as they’ve been made out to be. 

In fact, I was surprised to hear that narcotics can actually decrease pain tolerance, which I found shocking.

They also do not recommend treating anyone with addictions, anxiety or depression with it, particularly not with thc alone. And not in people under age 25, as it works on neural pathways and cause the developing brain to lose some of its functioning, permanently. 

And oh yeah, apparently it can increase the risk of heart attack or stroke in the hour following inhaling it. That was a huge surprise!

I came away from the lectures with mixed emotions. 

On one hand, I feel more likely to use it for pain, but even less likely to recommend it for anything else. 

I’m so curious to see what happens in terms of science and evidence 

if and when Canada chooses to legalize it. 

Only then will we truly know the full effects of long term use for specific indications.  

It’s a brave new world, Mary Jane.

Launch

Seventeen days left. 

I haven’t slept well in over a week, and I realize now, 

a little too late, 

that I should not be doing a preorder for my own sanity.

My first launch. 

It feels a little like waiting to see my baby for the first time. What will they be like? Will they be okay? Will people like them?

It’s different of course, but the emotions are just as complicated. 

With almost everything ready to go, the one little thing that remains is driving me to dream in big round circles about all the horrible things that could happen.

I tell myself it’s okay, whatever happens is fine. But just like a teenager at a new school, I worry about failing miserably. 

Will I be crushed? 

No matter how much I remind myself I’m writing for the love of it, not for for the reknown, my stomach sits higher in my throat than normal.

Just over two weeks left to figure out what I’m doing. 

Maybe the next time will be easier, or maybe not. My second and third pregnancy were just as fraught with emotion, after all.

Spiral staircase 

Life is a spiralling array 

of coincidences,

Intricate and complex.

Each step leading to a staircase,

Not knowing where it ends

Like the house of Escher, 

sometimes we walk upside down

around a corner, 

through a door leading nowhere,

fall to the ground 

Fast forward

Today I was struck by how focused I’ve been this month. 

I’ve had a million things happening and I was scattered to the four winds, 

but I had the last few days where things seemed to 

Pause 

And I realized how much I’ve gotten done while feeling completely overwhelmed, sinking with my obligations.

Today my head bobbed above the water for the first time in awhile, and I realized the reason I feel I can’t handle even one more thing is because I really can’t,

there’s no more time in my day.

I’m waking up at 4:30 most days, wide awake before my alarm clock goes off because my brain has shifted into second gear before I even knew it.

I get so much done in the first two hours of the day that I’ve done what I used to do in an afternoon. 

Emails answered, editing done, and a work out most mornings done before 6:30, 

followed by the hour of morning mayhem of getting myself and children ready for the weekday.

And then it’s a busy day at work, while thinking about all the things I should or could be doing, 

wondering what I’m forgetting in the melee.

At five-ish, its rush home for dinner and stories and bedtime, while I sit for the first time and try to relax.

But that’s where things have been falling apart. 

Relaxation is getting harder, not easier, 

the more I put on my plate,

lack of sleep begets lack of sleep, and lack of rest begets 

being unable to rest. 

It’s the end of the month again, and Thanksgiving is looming just around the corner. 

The harvest is mostly done now, and the weather becoming unpredictable 

the way it always does when fall arrives.

The bright warmth of the sunshine today and the feel of bite in the mornings reminds me of soft snow blankets 

and natures long winter nap, 

and I think of myself, 

sitting on the couch, cozy blanket and book, surrounded by snuggling children.

The peace in the image is overwhelming, 

and I promise that this year I will be so very thankful as I enjoy those moments.

I promise that I’ll shut off the must-do’s long enough 

to smell the baby powder before it disappears.

That I’ll capture the innocently hilarious things they tell me while we watch TV.

That I’ll stop and freeze this moment.

And just breathe

The Centre of the Universe

I watch my little one,

So sure of his importance,

He’s genuinely confused 

when he doesn’t get his way,

Disbelief filling his face 

when he hears a solid no.

My little planet, 

thinking he’s a sun, 

everything should revolve

around him.

He’s starting to realize 

life isn’t what he thinks it should be,

a hard lesson at such a tender age.

He fights against it, 

being as cute as he can,

crying 

when he hits his sister, 

snuggling instead of going to bed.

I cave in, 

swayed by his blue eyes,

My fresh evening star

Pamper

I very much enjoyed today. It was a beautiful Sunday, although it started out colder than I was prepared for, 

so I chose to do my run inside in the treadmill.

I listened to freakonomics, a podcast I just found last week, and found myself motivated to become amazing at something, anything really, as I have many areas I could stand to improve in.

The podcast was on the theory of 10,000 hours to become great at something- 

whether music or whatever- 

and I found myself wondering if I had that kind of dedication, what could I accomplish?

Then I realized I’ve put that and more into my current activities and was a little bummed, 

as at most I could be considered proficient. Nice, but hardly record book material.

Managing to brush off this horrible blow, I came inside and spent the morning with my kidlets. 

They didn’t care that I’m not amazing at one specific thing, 

as I can make a mean peanut butter and Nutella waffle sandwich.

So there.

And then I had the chance to pamper myself.

After doing some household tidying and throwing supper in a crockpot, I went to Starbucks without a clear agenda. 

I had a peaceful breakfast alone, without deadlines or paperwork to accomplish.

And the joy of this was even though I didn’t have anything I needed to do,

I got done a whole bunch of stuff that will make my week that much easier.

A good supper, good company wth friends, and slide shows of beauty, with a night cap before bed.

Mmm. 

Sunday this week is a day of mental rest,

which was much appreciated.

Oh yeah, ever notice how much cats like sleeping on clean laundry? Yeah, me neither.

Age is irrelevant 

So tired. It’s only nine o’clock, but the week has been long.

In between meetings and obligations, I’m not sure how I did it all. 

Saturday night now, 

and I want to sleep after the day, week, month I’ve had.

I remember when nine was when you started getting ready to go out on Saturday, as no one showed anywhere before ten.

Even then, I thought it was a waste to wait so late to have fun. 

But I’ve completely surpassed that blasphemy, arriving at a place where after nine means getting ready for bedtime, 

not partytime.

What makes one old? 

Age is, I believe, completely irrelevant.

I can be old one minute and so young the next. 

Children are the perfect vehicle for this transformation. 

They bring me to a sillier, simpler, younger time, but leave me feeling ancient after attempting to keep up with them.

Two out of three puked today, which doubled my age, although the cuddles from a child not quite feeling at their peak brings you back around to the age you should be.

I finished revising a book today, which left me feeling the quiet and bookish pride of a tweed wearing librarian. Age? Irrelevant when pride enters the equation.

As I contemplate my day, I listen to the soft sounds of coughing and realize the most amazing thing.

I may feel old and tired as I ready myself for sleep,

But full of love and pride, I’m forever young inside.

The last

One lonely leaf

Drifts down,

Gently settling

On the ground 
Slowly it fades 

Into its peers,

Orange turning brown

Until it disappears 
Once bright green

It’s life is past, 

come full circle

Death arrives at last

Mighty 

Some days I feel so small,

a tiny cog in a big wheel, 

ready to crush me under 

it’s uncaring weight.

Alone in a group,

Odd and out of place. 

Not quite in step

With the rest of the human race.

Then I remember what happens

With giant machines.

They may tremble

and shake the ground,

but a small striped cog

can be so mighty 

entire works will grind to a halt

without it 

Unsettled 

The feeling curls around my throat,

Loose at first 

then becoming 

Tight,

The coils of a python trapping me

Within a tight embrace

I wonder 

Will I escape?

Shiny though the scales are, 

warm and smooth,

Soft in the caress of death. 

Deceptively dangerous,

I gasp for breath

Searching for a last crumb

Of release 

But one last exhale 

and it has succeeded 

Where I have failed