Paula Dunning Posts

Lately I’ve been spending a lot of time staring into space. It’s an activity I’ve often though is under-rated, but I may be carrying it to extremes. Usually, it’s the space between my laptop and the bulletin board on the wall in front of me, where I try to avoid…

How quickly the personal becomes the political. Perhaps inevitable in this super-charged political world we’re now experiencing. In just ten days, we have experienced the medical systems in two countries, giving rise to some reflection about what it means to be adequately cared for. Canadians, who most frequently compare themselves…

On Friday, we closed the door of our Mexican house and said an early morning goodbye to the bougainvillea, finally blooming, and the hibiscus in full flower We’d spent the day before packing and repacking. I felt the usual annoyance at the amount of camera and computer paraphernalia that makes…

I am one of the least artistic people I know. The closest I’ve come to drawing a human figure is a game of hangman. Once, several years ago, I participated in a yoga retreat that included an afternoon of landscape painting. After several random dabs of colour, I slinked off…

I have been reminding myself to write a blog post for more than a week, now. We just spent a fascinating week in Mexico’s southern-most state of Chiapas with our adoptive Mexican family. We had a wonderful time, visiting small villages struggling to maintain their distinct cultures, museums dedicated to…

It’s a cold, snowy Christmas season at home, and I’m thinking about quiet December evenings years ago—after the rush of Christmas shopping, gift-wrapping, one last bedtime story for excited children—alone with the lit Christmas tree, winter darkness pressing against the windows, the smell of fresh-cut balsam, the murmur of the…

We’ve been in our Guanajuato home for a week and a half now. Although our Spanish improves a bit every year, occasionally we still find ourselves tangled in a web of confusion. Like this. Me to Jack last evening: I think we should invite Antonio and Eloisa and the family…

Those of you who’ve been reading this blog for a few years are no doubt perched on the edge of your seats waiting for my annual expression of discomfort about my snow-bird life, about having two homes (okay, three even, if you count the little cottage on the lake), about…

Canadians—not amused by the election of Trump—are nonetheless amused by the assumption that their neighbours may be contemplating a mass migration north. Canada and New Zealand are apparently the most likely recipients of this horde of liberals, and I for one would be delighted to inoculate Canada’s political landscape with…

I’m returning to earth after a particularly satisfying week. The launch of my memoir, Shifting Currents, went spectacularly well, and I’ve been basking in the realization that it’s now an actual book and people are reading and, I hope, enjoying it. I’m still struggling with distribution issues—Amazon.com is working well,…

Last week when I stopped into my small-town grocery store for a bag of onions and some dish soap, I stopped short. The familiar aisles were gone, the shelves in disarray, many empty. “What’s up?” I asked Glenna, the woman who’s been punching in my four-digit code and handing me…

I love living in a little place where I’ve lived for a long time. Last week, I finally felt ready, took a deep breath, and ordered 200 copies of Shifting Currents. Since they’re printed in the US, it was much cheaper and easier to have them shipped to a UPS…

Two days ago, I spent an hour and a half with a friend who’s a whiz at social media. I’m not. I’m not even sure I want to be. But suddenly I am faced with the daunting task of promoting my book—as you probably know, since almost everyone I’m friends…

Anyone who writes a book and dreams of publication knows the odds are against them. The competition for a spot on a publisher’s roster is brutal. Still…we dream. About two years ago, I declared my memoir, Shifting Currents, finished. Sure, I’ve kept fiddling with it, but I started contacting agents…

Chinese proverb: The best time to plant a tree is twenty years ago. The next best time is now. The true meaning of life is to plant trees, under whose shade you do not expect to sit. ~Nelson Henderson Trees. You can’t have too many of them. When we first…

I am both repulsed and seduced by the news these days. I log on in the morning to see if perhaps a ray of hope is making its way through the gloom, moving from one news source to the next, one political crisis or violent incident to the next. Most…

We’ve been back at home, on the Echo River, for a week and a half now. “Look at those trees at the top of the hill…I’d forgotten…” No, I haven’t forgotten since we left last winter. I’ve forgotten since decades ago. I have a new and improved view from my…

Every week, here in Mexico, I meet with a group of writers to discuss and share what we’ve been working on. I love it. These gatherings apply some pressure to my rather lackadaisical approach to this late-life commitment to writing. But more than that, these people—five of us when everyone…

About eleven o’clock this morning I wandered down the steep steps that descend from our house to the shops of Cerro de Gallo. I needed some veggies for supper and I was going to pick up some chicken from the carniceria—the butcher shop. When I arrived, it was shut tight.…