Connection is the true state of being

It seems that whenever I need, as in really really need a message, a sign from something greater than I, bigger then me...well, there it is.

I spent yesterday morning wandering around downtown Winnipeg, weaving in and out of streets with no real destination. Just needing to focus on placing one foot in front of the other. One foot. Then the other. Repeat. Repeat. The crisp air made my cheeks rosy but kept my head clear. When thoughts would creep in I pushed them out "Whoosh". Focusing on one foot. Left. Then right. Left. Right. And that was exactly what I needed.

I spent the evening thinking, sleeping, and dazed. And I think that's what I needed as well. I kept coming back to, "what's the point?" Why get close to people, develop relationships with people, if this is the kind of pain you feel when they are no longer there. Why? I thought about locking up all my loved ones, my nearest and dearest, in a room so that they couldn't get hurt. So I wouldn't have to hurt. I thought about cutting ties with everyone I know and love so that I never have to go through this again, and so they don't have to go through it if I were to get hurt, or die.

This morning I went to CrossFit and got a little bit of perspective. I was humbled by how far I have come, and how much further I have to go. Gasping for air putting one foot in front of the other, huffing and puffing, not letting myself stop or give up but still struggling the entire time. Nothing like getting physically destroyed to give you a little perspective and feel relatively small and insignificant.

When I got back to my apartment I turned on the radio and heard "Connection is the true state of being." As though Jian was speaking only to me. "We might not always remember that. We may feel powerless in the face of a world of problems but really we need to give our share to humanity the awareness the attention it deserves in order to start seeing things clearly. Surely that is the least we can do." And that was exactly what I needed to hear, was exactly the sign I needed to make today a new day. To get to work and put one foot in front of the other, again and again, until today is tomorrow. And until this gets easier.

Life is hard. It's tough. In one moment you can have all the air pulled out of your lungs, scared to take another breath, feeling like the stars are falling down all around you. When people leave us it reminds us of the horribleness that exists in every day. It reminds us that life is fleeting and short, which is something we don't always like to admit. It reminds us of all the times we've said angry words out of desperation and frustration and all the days in which we haven't laughed, or loved with our full and open hearts. And that is a sobering feeling.

But life is also stunningly beautiful and marvelous. It truly is an amazing experience sharing the world, sharing your life with others whom you grow to know, connect with, and who become a part of your life. I do have many wonderful, inspiring, and amazing people in my life and as Jian reminded me "connection is the true state of being." It's why we find so much satisfaction in our lives, in our jobs, in our relationships...all that connecting. Feeling as though you are a part of something, being aware, and attentive, and giving it all we've got. Life is much more beautiful, meaningful and satisfying when its shared. And that's why I can't get rid of all the people I care for, can't ask them to live in a box so that I never have to feel loss or pain again. Because we are made to connect. To share our lives, and our love with each other.

It will be hard. I'm scared. I'm worried. For my friends and family that are also feeling this loss. But I know that it will get easier, whether we want it to or not. Our hearts will heal. We will have each other. As long as we keep moving our feet, one after another. Left, right, left right.



With an open heart,
Delaney C.

Tug-of-War

There is a German word, Fernweh, which means "crave for travel; being homesick for a place you've never been." What a beautiful word that so accurately describes how I find myself feeling more often than not these days, and have for the majority of my life.

Even as a young child I was inquisitive, thoughtful, always thinking and always imagining what was happening in other people lives, in other places, in other cultures, and how exciting it was to catch just a glimpse. I’ve been so lucky in my short 24 years to be able to have seen and experienced some of the things that I have. To have had the opportunities to travel to corners of the earth not plagued by mainstream tourism, to speak with locals about serious issues effecting their livelihoods, to work and collaborate with respected local organizations working with people in the area to change the future of their own countries, and to be able to focus on the moment at hand.

A year ago I decided that I would try something new. I would put down some roots, make some commitments, take some chances, not go anywhere for a while, and see what would happen. A grand experiment with my life so to speak. It’s been challenging, more challenging than I first expected to ‘stay put.” I find my mind wandering constantly, to the next adventure, to the next far away place, back to the places I’ve been, and the friend’s I’ve made.

I re-signed a lease on an apartment for the first time, meaning I’ve made a commitment to ‘stay put’ for at least another year, and while on one hand its comforting knowing that I have a place to lay my head, a stable long term job that I love, and a circle of friends that add so much my life I can’t help but feel that part of me (a very important part of me) lays dormant and in wait for the next time I can dust off my backpack and jump into the unknown.

I’m happiest when I am pushed out of my comfort zone. When I’m forced to try to make sense of what’s going on and have been given very little clues. I love the rush that comes from trying to figure out new surroundings, new people, trying new foods with names you can’t pronounce, overhearing new languages, new scents, and new environments.

I’ve been trying to keep busy in Winnipeg. Volunteering with community events (Jazz Festival, Fringe Festival) and community organizations (Elizabeth Fry Society) which has kept my monsters at bay as there is always something going on, something new to learn, and something new to see, however it hasn’t helped me find a balance, and I feel that as soon as I stop packing every day with excitement and high energy activity I’ll book a one way plane ticket to Istanbul and not look back (for at least 6 months anyways).

In the next year, I will become more comfortable with what is familiar. With what I know. With routine. I will work on finding a balance, on slowing down, on appreciating ‘down time.’ I will continue to actively participate in my community, to learn the finer nuances of my job, and to find ways to explore and adventure in my own back yard.



"If you learn to love, you might love life"
Delaney C

Well would you look at that!

"I'm a philanthropist."

When I first heard someone say that I was confused. Surely you cant just be a philanthropist....you studied business at school, so you must be a business women, or work on marketing, or or or.....something. But you cant just be a philanthropist. That's something secondary, that comes after what you do....right?

And then, after about five minutes of internal struggle and identity crisis, it made sense...all too much sense. I studied political science but I am by no means a political scientist. I work for a non-profit organization but I'm not a social worker or a program coordinator. I'm no longer a student, in the traditional sense anyways, and what happens if I lose my job...do I become nothing? Why have I, for too long, associated what takes up most of my time (job, school, ect.) as who I am.

I'm a lot of things. And what is at the bottom of all of those things that make up me......the love of humanity. Philanthropy etymologically means "the love of humanity"—love in the sense of caring for, nourishing, developing, or enhancing; humanity in the sense of "what it is to be human," or "human potential."

Silly me, still so many things to learn. Something so simple has radically shifted my mindset, and outlook on not only my present life but how I perceive my future. No matter what career path I venture down, or choices I make, philanthropy, and my love of humanity, my desire to nourish, develop and care for what it is that makes us all human, and our greatest potentials will be right there with me.

The classical view of philanthropy—that the "love of what it is to be human" is the essential nature and purpose of humanity, culture and civilization—is intrinsically philosophical, containing both metaphysics and ethics. It asserts that our nature and purpose in life is educational—to make ourselves more fully humane through self-development, pursuing excellence (arete) of body, mind and spirit. Isn't that kind of the end goal, to seek out self-development, to pursue excellence in however you choose to define it and to continue to love humans with all of their strengths and weaknesses.

Simply put, people are amazing. I feel like a broken record but people never cease to amaze me. Their amazing qualities and not so great ones. People are such complex and interesting beings, that I love to interact with anyone and everyone. Looking for new perspectives, insights, and other people's life stories of things I'll never be able to experience because I've been given just one. Isn't that what makes us so special? That we are given only one life to live but allowed to experience snipets of someone else's if they are so generous to let us. That's what keeps me going, gets me excited and keeps me inspired.

Always in awe,
Delaney C.

Right here, Right now

I've been back from Honduras for just under two and a half months now, and I'm long over due for a blog.

In typical Delaney fashion, I had a job arranged for myself before I left Honduras, because heaven forbid I 'chill' for even a minute. I got a job working as a legal assistant for the Tribal Corporation Investment Group, and then decided it would be a good idea to run for President in the University of Manitoba Students Union Election, with some amazing people who I have grown so close with in a matter of only a few weeks. Needless to say, all of you that know me, and know me well, know that I keep busy and I love what I do (that's why I do it) but I also know that sometimes I like to keep busy in order to avoid certain things I would rather not think too much about. In this case, my time in Honduras, and what it means now that I am back in Canada.

Coming back to Winnipeg has required (re)adjustment, and has proved to be a challenge in itself, perhaps only harder to deal with because I wasn't necessarily expecting it to be as difficult as it has been. Why would coming home to a familiar place, a city where I have lived nearly my entire life, a community that I am involved in, and friends and family who never let me doubt just how much love surrounds me. How could that be hard....right?

In five months I saw a lot. I experienced a lot. I learned a lot. I changed a lot. And as I was seeing, experiencing, learning, an changing so was everyone who was a part of my world in Winnipeg (and Canada), and we weren't necessarily moving in the same direction. My first week back I was talking to a good friend of mine and he mentioned the term 'Relationship Shock', and it was like a light bulb turned on for me. I had heard of culture shock before, and re-entry shock and experienced those both, but was at a loss trying to articulate the growing tension that I could feel surfacing in many of my relationships, but even knowing what to call the phenomenon I was experiencing. Knowing that I wasn't alone (as cliche as that sounds) relieved a little bit of the pressure.

I still feel the need to 'compartmentalize' the Delaney that lives abroad, that does these things that I cannot even begin to explain with any justice to those of you that know and love me but haven't been there with me. I find myself torn between not knowing what to say when people ask me how my 'trip' was, and finding the line between giving enough details to satisfy them without diving completely off the deep end boring them...or scaring them away with an out of context rant. So usually I keep my mouth shut, smile, say it was great--life changing even, and wait for follow up questions if they choose to probe deeper.

Although the 'compartmentalizing' works so to speak, I feel like I have to choose between the Delaney that lives and exists in Canada, and the Delaney that does this other 'stuff'. Essentially being forced to turn my back on whichever I am choosing not to "be" in that moment--which also feels like I am lying about myself (and to myself) and separating two very real and crucial parts of who I am and what makes me who I am, and I can't help but think (and feel) that by denying myself that other 'part' I am weakening myself, and I'm not sure that's fair.

I also haven't let myself be angry. And i am angry--although this is a very unnatural feeling for me. I'm also frustrated, and confused but I haven't been able to deal with these emotions 1) because I have made myself so busy that it is impossible to do so 2) I haven't been able to find ab outlet in which to do so and 3) I want to talk about these angry/frustrating/not beautiful perfect things but i haven't been able to do so in a constructive way (or any way for that matter) so I have decided to be mature and completely ignore the situation....but maybe that's what I needed to do.

Not everything in Honduras was great, and wonderful, and amazing. There were times when I would try to call Canada, and all I wanted to hear was a friendly voice and I would end up so frustrated I burst into tears because the connection was so awful that when all I wanted was for whatever poor soul waited on the other line was to tell me to take a deep breath, snap out of it, and that it would be okay I had to instead deal with whatever demons I was battling that day. I spent a week in my room, listening to music and reading books, only leaving to go to my office and return straight home because getting yelled at and whistled at and being frustrated with not speaking Spanish made me not want to venture into town. Arriving in a country where I knew no one and foolishly didn't speak the language might have been one of the stupidest and most ballsy ideas I may have ever had, and proved to be one of the most obvious challenges and at many times I felt like a child, knowing what I wanted to say but unable to find the words to express myself.

On the other hand, its is hard to explain, that the times I was so frustrated, and confused, were also some of the best times of my life, and I am happy that I was so foolish...in a weird incomprehensible way.

I've also had trouble explaining what I did in Honduras. On paper it doesn't look like much, and that the problem with trying to quantify my experience and 'prove' that what I did was valuable and worth while. I worked with LWF (specifically Jose Luis) in the area of natural resource protection and illegal deforestation providing information and education while trying to engage youth and women in the process of environmental protection, but really what I did was much much more that the charlas and tallers I delivered, but to someone looking from the outside, judging my experience, it would be easy for them to say "Well. that's it. That's all you accomplished in 5 months?", and its even harder for me to defend myself.

I'm really not sure if this blog is coherent at all but it's gotten the dialogue ball rolling so to speak, and for right now that's all I can ask for.

While I sleep, the world is changing,
Delaney C.

El Salvador

Information Saturation

I’m reading a book about a boy whose Dad died in the September 11th attacks on the World Trade Center. I remember parts of that day still today. I remember seeing the planes crash into the buildings on T.V. before going to school. I remember not fully understanding the extent of what was happening, but knowing that it was bad. I remember sitting in shop class and talking to my teacher about what was happening while kids around me played with scrap metal.

I still remember the look in his eyes. It wasn’t compassion, but it wasn’t indifference. Back then I couldn’t really place the look, but now I think it was tired. Tired of years of hearing about bad things happening everywhere else, tired of having to protect the people around him and hope that the bad things stayed on T.V. and in the newspapers far from home. Tired of trying to care for people whose faces he had never seen and voices he had never heard.

Sometimes I get tired and sometimes I don’t know for whom or what I care for anymore. And there are days when I feel all cared out, like I have no more caring left inside of me. Sometimes I get frustrated that it feels like I do all this caring for other people by myself. On days like this I wish that I could be an accountant or a statistician and care about numbers instead of people…because numbers can’t let you down or disappoint you, numbers can’t carry out genocides, numbers can’t hurt other people, numbers can’t have corrupt governments that prevent aid from getting to them and things from getting better. Numbers can’t be greedy, numbers can’t look someone in the face and hurt them and their families because they have different beliefs, numbers can’t be abused by their parents and then take that anger and pain out on other people.

But I don’t like numbers. I like people. And (most days) when I am not feeling so tired and exhausted I care about people (a great deal), and I want people (not numbers) to be happy and to succeed. Sometimes I wish I could be okay with taking care of the people surrounding just me—my little circle of family, friends, and maybe an acquaintance. But I don’t know if I could be. I don’t know that I could stop thinking about the faces I have never seen, and the voices I have never heard, with the hungry tummies and the cracked lips, with big dreams and tied hands. I might be able to for a while—if I kept really busy, but I think eventually I would begin to think and then I would not be happy within my little circle of security in my cozy house with my child(ren) and my partner. I guess I’ll never know if I don’t try—but I’d like to think I know myself pretty well by now, and I’m not sure I have time to stop caring while I figure out that not caring isn’t for me.

For that matter, I’m not sure the world (or certain places in the world at least—and the rest of the world indirectly) has time to stop thinking and stop caring. In five to ten years the forests of Honduras may be damaged beyond repair if things continue the way they are and do not change dramatically. Honduras will not be alone in their crisis. Will not be the only country facing the reality of exploitation and mismanagement of natural resources. With damage beyond repair and the loss of a million dollar industry the damage to the soils and water will intensify, and the people—of Honduras, of Central America, of the North America, of the European Union—will suffer, directly or indirectly. There is a timer tick tick ticking away and every moment we let go by without confronting these issues is another moment that we can never get back to help protect the places we live in as well as our way of life. Things are going to happen a lot faster than we’d like to think, and just like a week swimmer falling of an edge in the ocean, by the time we realize we are in over our heads it will be too late to call for help.

I think good intentions have unfortunately helped fuel people’s indifference. People are overwhelmed by the barrage of ‘issues’ they are asked to care about, to donate money towards, and to volunteer their time to. Put forth by ‘passionate’ people and spread by mass media we are introduced to exponentially increasing numbers of causes, campaigns, issues, and problems affecting every aspect of our societies. So many issues that peoples heads spin around causing them to get overwhelmed and choose not to focus on any of the issues at all, and rather on what to cook for dinner and what to do on the weekend.

Aids, cancer, poverty, clean water, conflict diamonds, floods in faraway lands, poor countries torn apart by earthquakes, dying children without mosquito nets, urban violence, police brutality, low voter turnout, municipal elections. What to care about? Where to spend (valuable) time? Who to give my money to? Saturated by causes, by information, by disasters, and sad news, people opt to block it out, to not think about it, and to do nothing rather than take advantage of the age of information, with everything at their fingertips…kind of reminds me of the bystander effect in psychology. With an increase of information, technology our interconnected world is causing people to withdraw into their secure, safe little circles of comfort and try to block out the bad news and bad thoughts.

We have time. Right? I don’t mean to be a downer, but I’m not so sure. ‘Bad’ and unavoidable things will start happening in our neighbourhoods in our backyards sooner than we would like to think. When these ‘things’ begin to happen we will not be able to ignore them. And by then it will be too late. The damage will be done, and there will be little to repair and we will have to suffer the consequences of denial, ignorance and indifference…but we also like to react to things we can’t ignore rather than acting proactively which is another rant just waiting to be unleashed.

Thinking about the Future (trying not to be entirely cynical),
Delaney C.


Never Forget

Before heading out to Santa Caterina we visited UNA (one of the main Universities in San Salvador). Coincidentally it was twenty first anniversary of the murders of the Jesuit Priests that took place on campus and there was a special exhibit. Its a pretty powerful and moving experience being in the same room(s) where the priests and female students were not murdered, violated, tortured and brutalized. For me it’s an uncomfortable feeling, but one that I cant end prematurely. Its an uncomfortable feeling I force myself to endure until my chest gets tight, I begin to feel claustrophobic and someone says its time to leave or move onto another section. I need to feel uncomfortable, I surround myself in heavy all encompassing feeling of the room in an attempt to make myself realize, truly realize, that people are horrible vicious monsters and just what they are capable of.

Part of the exhibit that is available to the public is photo albums with graphic pictures taken of the people who were murdered. Some people cannot look at them, the images are too graphic, too raw, and make the viewer feel something they can’t handle—too uncomfortable. I can’t take my eyes off of them. I remember the first time I saw them and not being able to look away, while at the same time being confused as to how I, as a compassionate human being could look at these images without becoming physically sick instantly (possibly some combination of desensitization and a biological protection mechanism), not to say that I wasn’t effected, I was, but I couldn’t help but thinking the images I was faced with were so disturbing I should be physically crippled and unable to go on with my day.

This time I looked at them, again unable to look away, wanting the understand how and why people [are able to] do such horrible things to each other; never wanting to forget what humans are capable of. It saddens and perplexes me how humans are able to do unimaginably atrocious things to each other, and how we continue to allow these tragedies to repeat themselves again, and again.

As individuals we may be able to learn from our mistakes, but as whole societies it seems that we are designed to continuously repeat the same tragedies time and time again not learning from past atrocities but rather introducing new techniques to inflict pain and suffering on others.

Like an Elephant,
Delaney C.



El Escalon

This school has a piece of my heart however I’m not sure even on my most articulate days I can express (with justice) how much this school, its teachers, and its students mean to me, but I hope that those of you who have been able to see me at the school have been able to see a glimmer of how important it is to me. The road to the bottom of the hill where El Escalon primary school is nestled is haphazard at best and becomes completely washed out in the rainy season making the walk (that the teachers and many of the students are subject to) illustrate their dedication and motivation to education. Kids play soccer in the dirt path in front of the chain link fence surrounding the entrance to the school that is pressed with curious and excited faces shouting both ‘Hello’, and ‘Hola’, and I feel like I have been welcomed home.

Being able to visit this school three times in the last three years makes me one of the luckiest people in the world. Being able to see these kids grow as our relationship grows has been a phenomenal experience that I won’t even try to explain. Admiration, respect, compassion, love and a plethora of other incredible feelings surge simultaneously through my body when I am around these teachers and children and every ounce of my being is elated and filled with an energy I have never experienced outside of El Escalon.

Due to the massive rains the schools kitchen, left vulnerable in the absence of a retention wall, was destroyed by a mudslide. Presently only two-thirds of the school is protected by a retention wall, and although the school itself remains intact thus far there is a chance that as the rainy seasons worsen one of the classrooms will follow the fate of the kitchen.

Regardless of my views on development, on the criticisms of the Alternative Spring Break Program, of all the nay-sayers, I would do anything for this school, its teachers, and its students, and without a doubt they deserve every good thing that comes there way (and a whole lot more). I hope that this was not my last time to visit El Escalon, and I know if I want to go back I will find a way (just like I have done). My pockets are full of cards written for ‘Trini’ and ‘Celini’ because Delaney is too tough for the Spanish tongues to pronounce, my camera is full of pictures of dancing butterflies and smiling faces of old friends, my cheeks are full of lingering kisses and my heart is full of new memories and lots and lots of love. That’s enough to make be feel (even if just for a moment) that the world is in fact a beautiful wonderful place and there is a little bit of hope left after all.

Full of Love,
Delaney C.