Perhaps magnetic resonance imaging doesn’t seem like the most intriguing way to mark the milestone.

But this MRI could save my life.

My dad's siblings would all be teens or twentysomethings here. Aunt Jeane is in the front row, third from left.

In March, my Aunt Jeane died suddenly from a brain aneurysm. She’d gone to work Saturday morning and was outside on a smoke break when her boss remarked she didn’t look so well.

“I feel like my head is going to explode,” she told him.

 Her boss rushed her to hospital, where medical staff essentially confirmed what she’d felt.

Jeane had a brain aneurysm that had ruptured, causing bleeding in her brain. The quick actions of her boss meant she wasn’t alone when she died: my dad and my Aunt Leah were with her.

Jeane was one of seven siblings in the close-knit Mayne family. As my cousin Tanya wrote so aptly in the eulogy, Jeane was in many ways the fabric that kept our family together.

Jeane held many of our family gatherings – holidays, birthdays, picnics, wedding showers. Her parties featured fresh flowers, fine food, wine flowing from silver goblets, and conversation more animated by the hour.

She particularly doted on her nieces and nephews. Jeane and her husband, David, never had the chance to raise a family: two of their infant sons died, and Jeane had several miscarriages.

Without children of their own, they spoiled nephews and nieces like me. When I was growing up in Emerald, Jeane and David invited me “to town” at least once a year to spend the weekend with them.

Jeane would take me out to brunch at Smitty’s for a stack of blueberry pancakes and a tower of whipped cream only a kid could tackle. Inevitably I’d return home to the farm with a full stomach and a brand new outfit from Eatons that I would keep for “good.”

But Jeane left behind more than memories.

The Maynes in the early 90s. Jeane is on the right.

After her death, our family learned that aneurysms seem to run in our lot.

Yes — in addition to our good looks, stubbornness, gregariousness, interest in politics, and love of a good gathering — the Maynes apparently have a tendency towards the aneurysm – a weakening/ballooning of a blood vessel in the brain.

Since Jeane’s death in March, my dad and my Aunt Leah – the same two people who comforted Jeane as she died — have been diagnosed with aneurysms. Close cousin, Sheila Wigmore, collapsed and had to be rushed to hospital as a result of hers.

Credit goes to Dr. Tweel, my dad’s family physician, for realizing that our family should all get tested. When he realized how Jeane had died, he told dad aneurysms can run in families and we should all get checked.  

So when Sheila was rushed to hospital late this summer, doctors didn’t need to give her an MRI to find out what was wrong. Dad had been spreading the word about getting MRIs, and she’d had one just the day before.

Sure enough– when medical staff pulled up her results — they found the faulty blood vessel. I suppose it’s tough to say how much having the test already done contributed to saving Sheila’s life, but I suspect every minute counts when treating a bleeding brain.

Sheila was transferred to Moncton, where she had a coil procedure to repair her aneurysm. She’s recovering well and feeling lucky.

Wednesday, my dad will have the same coil procedure to prevent his aneursym from rupturing. Essentially, tiny coils are inserted through a blood vessel in the leg. The coiling is threaded all the way up to the brain and into the aneurysm, sort of stuffing it up so it’s blocked and doesn’t rupture.

Jeane (Mayne) Coburn

Diagnosis has been understandably worrying for Dad and Aunt Leah. And yet, it has also given them power – the chance for treatment.  

I am grateful to Dr. Tweel for being so sharp and thoughtful to advise that Jeane’s family should get checked for the same condition that took her life.

And yet, I can’t help but think it’s just like my Aunt Jeane to find a way to care for us after she’s gone.

She has given knowledge and potentially a second chance to her brothers and sisters, her cousins, her nieces and nephews, and their families.

I have my MRI booked December 20. And I have my Aunt Jeane to thank.

 The truth is balance. However the opposite of truth, which is unbalance, may not be a lie. – Susan Sontag

Balance has never been one of my strong points.              

But like so many other lessons in life, I am learning.

What would I have to be unbalanced about, you might wonder? I have no husband, no children, no mortgage. Essentially, I can afford to be selfish; my time is mine.

The unbalanced will know that doesn’t necessarily matter. Balance is not about being busy or not; it’s about letting the pendulum swing too far in one direction.

It took a bit of practice, but I did my walkover on South Beach. Photo courtesy of Shelley Tremere

And I can assure you, I have typically been able to find something to throw myself into. When I was a little girl, it was school. When I was at university, it was academics. When I fell in love, it was a guy. When I started work, it was my job.

All of these are perhaps noble pursuits; it’s the scale and spirit that matter.

It is only now that I am single and largely working for myself that I understand the pattern of how I tend to burn myself out: I work really hard and give a lot because I want to. Then I wake up one day and realize I am burned out because I forgot to keep something in reserve.

That’s where the balance comes in.

I have long been a work hard, play hard kind of person. But I have come to recognize that working too hard can lead to playing too hard or simply being too exhausted to do anything. To every action, there is, of course, that equal and opposite reaction.

Case in point: it’s been months since I actually have written a blog. And writing for me, is as natural as thinking.

I would like to report, however, that I have made small steps towards adding balance to my life. Last fall, for example, I signed up for an adult gymnastics class. That wasn’t something that would advance my mind or improve my career; it was simply something I wanted to do for me. (And also because I have a certain milestone birthday coming up, I wanted to relearn a move I hadn’t done since junior high.)

This summer I went to the beach when I could – even when I had work to do. I made sure to appreciate my time with friends and family. And to cap it all off, I spent six days in Miami with four high school friends celebrating our milestone year. (And by the way, while it took a few tumbles and practice runs, I did that move — a back walkover — on South Beach.)

What have you done lately to bring balance into your life?

I have two strong characteristics that seem to work against one another: I have strong intuition, and I think too much.

The challenge is to separate intuitive insights from thoughts based on fear. Because intuition is usually on the money.

Pay attention when intuition strikes. Qualsiasi/Flickr

Most people are intuitive to some degree. I think my intuition largely comes from my McSweeney roots. My great-grandmother Alice McSweeney was more than intuitive – some might call her psychic. Alice, an Irish woman who eventually moved to England with her family after the war, could read cards, tea leaves and palms – basically anything a querent would give her.

Her husband Thomas hated the practice, so Alice would sneak around behind his back to share her insights. My mom has fond memories of stealing away to a bedroom, where her grandmother would read her cards. It was Alice who told my mom exactly when she’d get married (1971) and how many children she’d have (two).

 I never had the chance to meet my great-grandmother, but somehow I inherited her fascination with reading cards. I’m by no means psychic, but perhaps it’s a way to channel my own intuition. I have studied up on the meanings, so I read with both knowledge and institution. To me, it’s not fortunetelling as much as it is providing an overview of the energy in the person’s life and where it is headed.

As much as I love reading cards, it’s difficult to do my own. The meanings and messages seem to get obscured and bogged down in my own hopes, fears, and thought processes.

This is essentially what happens to our intuition in real life: it gets muddled up in our hopes and fears and explained away by our rational minds.  

I can think of a number of examples where this has played out in my own life. I remember having a gut feeling that something wasn’t quite right with my life during my early years of university. I was in a relationship with a guy I considered my best friend. We rarely argued. We had lots in common. But something just seemed to be missing. 

I didn’t pay attention. I blamed myself for being unhappy.

Reading cards can help people connect with their intuition. Rider-Waite

There’s nothing wrong with the relationship, I thought; there must be something wrong with me. Within months, I started developing physical symptoms – dizzy spells, chronic fatigue, minor but frequent colds and infections, and persistent headaches. It seemed like I was at the doctor every second week. I was even sent for CAT scan. 

“You have a beautiful brain,” the doctor told me, to which I could only laugh.

Perhaps that was the problem. My brain was working a little too well. I was rationalizing away with thought what was so obvious to my senses: my boyfriend and I weren’t working. In hindsight, it seems crazy to have ignored something that should have been so obvious.

But it’s actually part of our human nature. CBC’s The Current  radio program recently interviewed author Margaret Heffernan about her book on willful blindness. Essentially, she described how we – as individuals and societies — often fail to heed even the most obvious warning signs. We see what we want to see or what fits the view our brain has constructed.

This has all led me to ask, how can I pay more attention to intuition?

 I don’t pretend to have the answers, but I have a few observations.

1. Our bodies are smarter than we are
When a situation isn’t right, our bodies often react even before our brains know why. For example, I have heard countless women discuss how they have experienced their throats close over, pains in their stomach, anxiety or even panic attacks while in a – seemingly – benign situation. They would later learn something about the person or situation that helped them understand the reaction. Our bodies have a warning system that’s often smarter than we are.

2. Intuition comes in subtle ways
True intuition tends to slip into our consciousness at quiet or surprising moments: dreams, the space between dreams and waking, or when we’re focussed on something else. Over-thinking and rationalization are much more focussed and conscious efforts. They feel like work.

 3. Intuition gives you second changes
If we don’t listen to intuition, we’ll likely get another opportunity. Another sign will come along sooner or later. And another. And another.

My goal is simply to practice paying attention — sooner rather than later.

- Mary Manin Morrissey

I didn’t really truly understand the negative effect of fear until this spring.

Fear, of course, should be a helpful emotion, one that warns of impending danger. The problem starts when fear – or anxiety – occurs on a constant basis that prevents action or moving forward.

Earlier this spring, I attended “Be True to You,” a day dedicated to helping women become more healthy in mind body, and spirit.

Writing about strengths can help overcome anxiety. Flickr/pen vidalia_11

Dr. Haminder Dhillon, one of the guest speakers, talked about the effects of stress and ways to keep those effects in check.

She explained a very interesting point: studies have shown that the brain can’t host both fear and appreciation at this same time.

This was a revolutionary thought for me. I have often noticed that when I feel stressed, anxious or worried about something, I fail to really appreciate all the good things in my life. Why am I not more positive, I wonder? Am I that negative?

Thankfully, no. It’s just that in times of stress or anxiety fear tends to take over, and the brain simply doesn’t do a good job of appreciation – neglecting to entertain what I should be thankful for – at the same time.

One way to counteract these effects involves writing. Dr. Dhillon suggests someone combating stress or anxiety should write down a list of personal strengths and review them.

For all of its practical applications in communication, writing can be a very therapeutic and liberating activity.

It’s another example of the power of the pen, which can be mightier than a sword in the fight against fear.

The question sounds deceivingly simple, but making sure you have a clear point in mind is one of the easiest and most effective ways to improve your writing – whether you’re typing an email, drafting a cover letter, or penning a love note.   

 “Every successful piece of nonfiction should leave the reader with one provocative thought he or she didn’t have before. Not two thoughts or five – just one,” argues author William Zinsser, in his writing bible known as On Writing Well. “Decide what single point you most want to leave in the reader’s mind.”

When you write, keep your point in mind. eggman/Flickr

In a university paper, that main point is the thesis statement. The main point, however, is not only for academic treatises. A cover letter should tell the reader why you’re the right person for the job. A letter to the editor should drive home your main argument. An online profile should convey why you’re so interesting. An email should indicate what action needs to be taken or what information you need.

Generally speaking, you should be able to summarize the main point of a piece of writing in just one or two sentences. If your thoughts are muddled, chances are your words will come out the same way. I know this first hand. When I worked as a journalist, I often had to answer an editor who was wondering, “What’s the story?” If I couldn’t answer succinctly, I knew I was in trouble. The writing would take longer; the end result wouldn’t be very clear.

Zinsser argues writers must constantly ask themselves what they’re trying to say.

“Surprisingly often they don’t know,” he confesses, based on his experience as a writer, editor and Yale professor.

So the next time you have something to write, draft a main point first. Write down the main point or type it at the top of your document. If you like, take the extra step of jotting down a few reasons or supporting points to back up what you want to say.

You should see the following benefits:

• Writing will be easier because you have an idea in mind. Writer’s block is often most insurmountable when you can’t think of what to say.
• The process of writing will be quicker. As mentioned, you’re less likely to have writer’s block, and you will likely have less revision time if you keep your piece focussed right from the first draft.
• Your writing will be clearer because you’ve already clarified your position.
• Your writing will be more effective because you actually know – and have contemplated — what you want to say.

For a number of years – even though I’m not Catholic – I have chosen to give something up for Lent. Perhaps I owe my participation to my roots in the largely Catholic community of Emerald, Catholic heritage on my McSweeney side, good Catholic friends, or a well developed sense of guilt.

After giving up chocolate for Lent, Lindt bunnies tasted extra sweet. LexnGer/Flickr

In any case, when others forego sweets, chips, negativity, or other bad habits, I usually try to do the same.

 I thought I’d made the ultimate sacrifice a few years ago when I gave up chocolate. Like my grandfather Herman Mayne – who routinely dipped into the sugar bowl with his spoon at the dinner table and always had a Pot of Gold on the go – I have a sweet tooth.  

 Giving up chocolate wasn’t easy, but after a few days of whining I managed to cut out the two squares of Lindt I savoured every day. In fact, that year I only cheated once: sinfully indulging in a rich chocolate cupcake with fuschia frosting after one of Maureen Kerr’s famous pink parties.

This year, I decided I wanted to do something positive instead of cutting something out. I posted a request for Lenten ideas on Facebook; a suggestion to carry out Random Acts of Kindness seemed like the perfect fit.

 So far, I’ve delivered chocolates and tea, donated to several good causes, supported local fundraisers, given a surprise gift, sent notes of concern, picked up stray litter and – perhaps most challenging — let other drivers go first when I was rushing to work in the morning.

 While I feel better for these tiny acts, sometimes I find myself scrambling to complete my kind act for the day or missing it altogether and resolving to double up in the morning.

 I haven’t been mean or nasty on these days, mind you; I just haven’t intentionally gone out of my way to do something good.

It’s not easy to cut something out. The whole Lenten experience, however, has shown me that it’s just as hard – or harder – to do something positive instead.

 ”The smallest act of kindness is worth more than the grandest intention,” Oscar Wilde has said.

 Making a positive contribution to the world takes work. It is easier to complain than make things better, easier to get rid of things than to turn them into something positive, easier to make intentions than carry them out.

In a Globe and Mail interview this month, Atwood suggests it’s possible e-books and electronic newspapers will actually promote thought.

It all depends, of course, what we’re reading.

 “Newspapers, of the kind that do analytical pieces, and things like the London Review of Books – you can see thought at work in those,” Atwood said. “And if e-readers are spreading the reading of London-Review-of-Books-type articles, then you are making space for thought, and if people are reading such things on their e-readers – people who wouldn’t have read them otherwise – you’re actually increasing thought.”

Since I began teaching sessionally at UPEI in 2006, I have undoubtedly seen technology like cell and smart phones and laptops become more ubiquitous. Sometimes, of course, I’m competing with technology and asking students to put it away if it becomes distraction instead of tool.

There has been much debate about how much technology actually helps students. A Maclean’s editorial in the fall pointed to a 2008 study that showed university students who used laptops in the classroom did not fare as well as other students. The reason? They were distracted by the other things they could do on their computers.

Others have pointed out the particular implications of using technology to access the Internet. Author Nicholas Carr has argued that surfing the Internet has actually changed the way we read and learn. To use his language, we tend to skim across the surface of knowledge on the Internet instead of diving deep. He has also suggested Internet use is actually changing the way our brain works.

I don’t believe technology is the be-all, end all. 

In fact, in a province with troubling literacy rates, skills like writing gain even more importance. And in a world with access to knowledge a keystroke away, critical thinking needs to be honed.

But while some studies question the widespread use of technology, I can’t help think there is some opportunity we’re missing.

The incessant attraction to technology, in part, demonstrates a desire for three things: engagement, expression, and connection to a world full of ideas and knowledge.

 These things bode very well for the written word and for learning in general.

 “You can’t do much on the Net without being literate,” Atwood has argued.

The key, of course, is to find the way to tap into the creative energy that’s poured into tweets, texts, and Facebook messages and use it to carve out other spaces of thought.

After all, as Atwood argues, technology simply provides another means to share it.