Darcel Moro

Mom, sometimes a cyclist, trail sloth & diva paddler. Community animator & dialogue generator. @SHARESociety My tweets are jmho she/her

[The Cobra Chicken🍁 @FrankieSaysNews]

Dear Canada,

I will always love you.🇨🇦

#Canada #CanadaDay

[Suzie rizzio @Suzierizzo1]

OMG everyone needs to listen up this young Harvard Graduate’s Speech because this young man is going to make a difference in this World & how we as humans see others no matter what their background is.This literally brought me to tears because of what is happening in the World.

[Morgan Cameron Ross @Morgan_C_Ross]

The very first moments of Terry Fox's Marathon of Hope in St John's, Newfoundland 46 years ago this morning. The Marathon of Hope has raised over $1 billion for cancer research so far. credit: Terry Fox Foundation 🇨🇦

[Darcel Moro @darcelmoro]

Love bacon so Cowboy :)

[Made In Canada @MadelnCanada]

🚨COAST-TO-COAST GIVEAWAY🚨

We’re giving away TEN 6-can variety packs of Canada's own @SpragueFoods baked beans!🇨🇦🫘

To enter:
1️⃣ Follow @madeincanada & @SpragueFoods
2️⃣ RT this post
3️⃣ Reply w/ the flavour you want

Rocky Mountain, Cowboy, Campfire, PEC, Sugarbush, or Maritime

[ArchaeoHistories @histories_arch]

Canada, 1929 — five women refused to accept that they were legally “less than.” And they took the entire system to court.

For decades, Canadian law used the word “persons” in a way that quietly excluded women—especially when it came to power. Women could vote by this point, they could work, they could organize… but they could not be appointed to the Senate. Why? Because “qualified persons” was interpreted to mean men.

It sounds unbelievable now—but legally, women were still standing outside the definition of full political existence.

Then came the five who would change it forever: Emily Murphy, Nellie McClung, Henrietta Edwards, Louise McKinney, and Irene Parlby—later known as the Famous Five.

They asked a simple, explosive question: Are women “persons” under the law?

The case went all the way to the highest court in Canada. The answer came back: no. Women, legally, were not included.

Most people would have stopped there.

They didn’t.

They pushed the case further—to Britain’s highest court, the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council. And in 1929, everything shifted.

The ruling declared that the Constitution was a “living tree”—capable of growth and change. And women? Women were, undeniably, persons.

With that single decision, women could finally be appointed to the Senate. But more than that, it cracked open a much larger truth: rights were not fixed—they could be fought for, redefined, expanded.

What makes this moment powerful isn’t just the victory.

It’s the fact that, in 1929—not ancient history—women had to argue, in court, that they counted as people.

And they won.

© Women In World History

#archaeohistories

[Darcel Moro @darcelmoro]

@Matt_Pinner Edna or Gladys

[Darcel Moro @darcelmoro]

@beauti_animals The eastern end of Burrard Inlet

[Nikki Hill @HillNikki]

IOC fairness in women’s sports policy makes sports less fair for women: Thousands of female athletes around the world are going to have their access to high-level sport limited because of a witch hunt to solve a problem that doesn’t exist. https://t.co/BNOqQ98jJb

[Catherine McKenna @cathmckenna]

“They called me an accomplice, they said I was a woman who had consented…I can assure you that I didn't flinch, not once until the very end I held on. It takes guts. You have to be strong.” Extraordinary interview w Gisèle Pelicot - such incredible courage, refusing to be shamed

[Be A King @BerniceKing]

Sharing this beautiful interaction again. We need more compassion and love here.

#SesameStreet #AndrewGarfield #Elmo

[Saganism @Saganismm]

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed, citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”

― Margaret Mead

[Coquitlam Express @BCHLExpress]

This afternoon Cole Bishop and Cole Bieksa dropped off close to $3,000 worth of new toys to @sharesociety for families in need this Christmas.

In the four years of doing this Toy Drive the Express have donated over $10,000 worth of new toys courtesy of players, players families and staff.

[Craig Baird - Canadian History Ehx @CraigBaird]

On this day in 1989, an armed gunman murdered 14 women at École Polytechnique de Montréal. Another ten women and four men were injured.
The anniversary of the massacre is commemorated annually on Dec. 6 as the National Day of Remembrance and Action on Violence Against Women.

[Joni Mitchell @jonimitchell]

Do you wish you had a river you could skate away on?

[Camus @newstart_2024]

Stop scrolling if you’ve ever wondered why you can feel “healthy” but still carry belly fat, brain fog, or just don’t have the energy you used to.

Steven Bartlett just asked the question almost nobody asks doctors:
“Can you explain insulin to me like I’m 12 years old?”

Dr. Annette Bosworth’s answer in the latest Diary of a CEO is one of the clearest, most eye-opening 7 minutes you’ll watch this year.

Highlights that made me hit pause & re-watch:
• “Insulin doesn’t just store sugar… it literally insulates you and makes you fluffy.”
• “Chronically high insulin hides the trash in your body — including between brain cells.”
• “Some patients eat almost zero carbs for 15 DAYS before their body finally makes a single ketone because glycogen stores are that packed.”
• “Normal blood glucose tells you almost nothing about how much insulin it took to get there.”

Steven already does one-meal-a-day and says he feels razor-sharp all day — this clip shows exactly why… and what the standard blood tests completely miss.

If you care about energy, longevity, mental clarity, or why some people age faster than others, this 7:44 clip is pure gold.

Watch with sound on — mind officially changed.

(Video 7 min 44 sec – full screen recommended)

[Camus @newstart_2024]

Roger Federer broke the internet with one statistic that will change how you see every setback in your life.
1,526 singles matches.
Won almost 80% of them.
20 Grand Slams. 103 titles.

Now answer honestly:
What percentage of total points do you think he won across his entire career?
70%? 65%? 60%?

Try … 54%.
He lost literally almost EVERY SECOND POINT he ever played for 24 years.

And still became one of the greatest of all time.

Watch him explain it himself (2:07 of pure life-changing wisdom):
“In tennis, perfection is impossible… When you lose every second point on average, you teach yourself to say:
‘Okay, I double-faulted — it’s only one point.’
‘Okay I got passed at the net — it’s only one point.’
Even a screaming overhead smash that ends up on SportsCenter Top 10… still just one point.

So when you’re playing your point, it has to be the most important thing in the world.
The moment it’s over — it’s behind you.

That mindset frees you to attack the next point, and the next, and the next with absolute intensity and clarity.”

Then he looked at the crowd and said the line that hit a billion people in the soul:
“The real sign of a champion is not that they win every point.
It’s that they lose again and again and again… and have learned how to deal with it.
Negative energy is wasted energy.
Cry it out if you have to. Then force a smile.
Move on. Be relentless. Adapt. Grow.
Work harder — and work smarter.”

Save this post.

The next time you lose a deal, bomb a presentation, get ghosted, miss a deadline, or just have “one of those days” — come back here and read it again.

You’re not falling behind.
You’re just in the 46%.
And the 46% is exactly where every single legend has spent most of their career.

Keep playing the next point.
(full 2:07 clip — sound on)

[guyfelicella🇨🇦🍁 @guyfelicella]

The wind was blowing in Toronto when I got off the train yesterday. They had snow on the way and with the wind-chill it felt like -7. Brrr 🥶

I saw a homeless guy bundled up in a doorway sleeping. I had somewhere to be, but I woke him up, gave him 20 bucks and we had a quick chat. He said he's been to treatment only to end up homeless again and again, so why bother. He told me how hard it is out on the streets in Toronto. He’s only 29.

I said: Don't give up, there are a lot of us who care. I told him 13 years ago I was in the same situation as him, and now I'm in Toronto giving talks about how I changed my life.

At the end of our conversation he said "You're the first person to ever wake me up and chat with me, why?” I told him that one Christmas morning a lady woke me up, gave me a coffee, a hug, 50 bucks and said Merry Christmas … and it changed my life.

Kindness matters. You never know when a few minutes out of your day can change the life of someone else. (Am I guaranteed it helped him? No. Did it brighten his day? Yes. #StillWorthIt)

[Julie LV @1stAJ]

Take care of what takes care of you.

[Meidas_Charise Lee @charise_lee]

The bullied knows the bully better than the bully knows himself‼️ SHE ATE THAT ANSWER UP🔥

[Travis Akers 🇺🇸 @travisakers]

A message from a Kindergarten teacher:

After forty years in the classroom, my career ended with one small sentence from a six-year-old:

“My dad says people like you don’t matter anymore.”

No sneer. No malice. Just quiet honesty — the kind that cuts deeper because it’s innocent. He blinked, then added, “You don’t even have a TikTok.”

My name is Mrs. Clara Holt, and for four decades, I taught kindergarten in a small Denver suburb. Today, I stacked the last box on my desk and locked the door behind me.

When I started teaching in the early 1980s, it felt like a promise — a shared belief that what we did mattered. We weren’t rich, but we were valued. Parents brought warm cookies to parent nights. Kids gave you handmade cards with hearts that didn’t quite line up. Watching a child sound out their first sentence felt like magic.

But that world slowly slipped away. The job I once knew has been replaced by exhaustion, red tape, and a kind of loneliness I can’t quite describe.

My evenings used to be filled with construction paper, glitter, and glue sticks. Now they’re spent filling out digital reports to protect myself from angry emails or lawsuits. I’ve been yelled at by parents in front of twenty-five children — one filming me with his phone while I tried to calm another child mid-meltdown.

And the kids… they’ve changed too. Not by choice.

They arrive tired, anxious, overstimulated. Their tiny fingers know how to swipe a screen before they can hold a crayon. Some can’t make eye contact or wait in line. We’re expected to fix all of it — to patch the gaps, heal the trauma, teach the curriculum, and document every move — in six hours a day, with resources that barely fill a drawer.

The little reading corner I once built, full of soft beanbags and paper stars, was replaced by data charts and “learning metrics.” A young principal once told me, “Clara, maybe you’re too nurturing. The district wants measurable results.”

As if kindness were a weakness.

Still, I stayed. Because of the small, holy moments that no spreadsheet could measure —
a whisper of, “You remind me of my grandma.”
a shaky note that read, “I feel safe here.”
a quiet boy finally meeting my eyes and saying, “I read the whole page.”

Those tiny sparks were my reason to keep showing up.

But this last year broke something in me.

The aggression grew sharper. The laughter in the staff room turned to silence. The light went out of so many eyes. I watched brilliant teachers — my friends — vanish under the weight of burnout, their joy replaced by survival.

I felt myself fading too, like chalk on a board that’s been wiped one too many times.

So today, I began my goodbye. I pulled faded art off the walls and tucked thirty years of handmade cards into a single box. In the back of a drawer, I found a letter from a student from 1998:

“Thank you for loving me when I was hard to love.”

I sat on the floor and cried.

No party. No applause. Just a handshake from a young principal who called me “Ma’am” while checking his notifications.

I left my rocking chair behind, and my sticker box too. What I carried with me were the memories — the faces of hundreds of children who once trusted me enough to reach out their hands and learn. That can’t be uploaded. It can’t be measured. It can’t be replaced.

I miss when teachers were partners, not targets. When parents and educators worked side by side, not in opposition. When schools cared more about wonder than numbers.

So if you know a teacher — any teacher — thank them. Not with a mug or a gift card, but with your words. With your respect. With your understanding that behind every test score is a heart that cared enough to try.

Because in a world that often overlooks them, teachers are the ones who never forget our children.