Awareness

A toast for today and tomorrow..........

2011-12-31T15:25:00.000-04:00

May your discoveries be plenty,

May your sorrows be few.

May it rain dollops of colour

Under a sky brilliant in blue.

May you warble a few songs

with notes full of grace

May your spirit always be lifted

When you're lovingly embraced...........

If winter's cold gets too wicked

and the blues settle in.....

If lonely crumbles your foundation

try to rise up again.

Know you're never alone friend.

Know you always have me.

I'm the one dancing jigs on your sadness

I'm the one whistling through the trees.....

May 2012 be as brightly coloured as 2011............ A different shade would be nice, but just as colourful! May you always carry your favourite song in your backpocket. May we continue to draw strength from the ones we love and who love us. We are in this together. It's who we are. It's all we have.

Blessings may get enveloped by the storms that bellow from time to time, but they never dissolve. In fact, they have a tendancy to float on top of the waves. I caught sight of two this morning as they slept soundly in their beds....

Happy New Year........ !!!!!!

discarded anniversary............

2011-12-29T12:40:00.000-04:00

So what do you do with a wedding anniversary soured beyond its due date? Once full of youthful exuberance, of hopeful dreams, it now blinks in the corner discarded and covered in dust bunnies. Shared only between two lovebirds whose past, present and future was intertwined with accumulated history, events, births, deaths, struggles and accomplishments? Talking. Always talking, dancing, lingering together. Laughter too. Lots of laughter. Tears too. Frightening times. Exciting times. Figuring it out times. NOT figuring it out times............ slipping away, away, away............ to silence and hurt.

What do you do with it now when the marriage is no more? Remember? Forget? Deny? Repress? Joke? Ironic that one of the most happiest days of one's life can bottom out into one of the saddest. It's hard not to get caught in the misery of broken.

failure, failure, failure...........it blinks.......... your vows became fraudulent..... it blinks.

On any other day, its manageable. Difficult sometimes to accept, but manageable. But on the day of the anniversary.......... that big day when the people, the music, the vows, the beauty, the flowers, the smiles, the speeches, the dancing, so clearly come to mind? There's no way of sidestepping it, especially if you're still living in the marital home. ITS everywhere!!! Even when decluttering and boxing up stuff has occured. Even if you've painted the walls and hung up new pictures.

It lingers............. loudly.

It lingers.............mournfully.

It lingers............lonely.

On the day of.................. Mr. and Mrs...........

A tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a noise? One side of a marriage whispers "happy anniversary" but no one is around to hear it, is it at least felt and remembered? Does it matter?

Moving on..................... time to suck up those blinking dust bunnies with my Dyson.

joyful giggles. from singing off key.........

2011-12-25T00:49:00.001-04:00

I got the case of the giggles right in the middle of the Christmas Eve service tonight. During the second verse of a bouncy carol I didn't recognize. I blame it on my son, who was purposely singing off key. and making up new lyrics to the old standards. If anyone was looking at him, they would've thought he was sullenly just "getting through" the church service.......... head down and not really paying attention. Well, he was sort of doing just that. Church isn't his cup of tea. Religion isn't logical to him. Philosophy however, is another matter. Thats FOOD for a beyond the horizon brain of his because that kind of thinking verse goes on and on forever.

However, he was singing. Off key! Loud enough only for me and his sister to hear his comedic attempts. Methinks he was verging on landing on Santa's naughty list for his subversive humour. It was a welcome respite..... sometimes Max just knows how to put his own stamp on perspective.

Interestingly, my son still believes........... in Santa. Or at least tries very hard to believe it. I caught him online checking out the Norrad Santa tracking site this afternoon!!! When he was around 9 years old, he told his sister that there has to be Santa Claus because there was no way Mom and Dad would buy all those presents! Yeah, he managed to get his head around St. Nick. It made more sense to him than any other explanation. Still does.

He even managed to get to bed earlier tonight than he has in months. Same with my daughter, except she has a reason to retreat under the covers. She's been working her tushie off in the mad world of RETAIL, right up to the mall closing bell tonight. She could hardly keep her eyes open during the church service. It was a valiant attempt that reminded me of the years I would be working crazy hours in retail at her age, so bone tired and weary of listening to Christmas jingly tunes for two months......

A couple of times, I could feel her lean on me for a quick respite. There was absolutely no way she had the energy to follow along with any zippity verve though she did her best. She gave up trying to find the right page or the right spot on the service guide and let me guide her. Her brothers' off key singing most certainly helped too. So did recognizing half the congregation whom she served at the store or whom she knew in another life context.

My two beauties are now sound asleep in their own beds and I sit here in front of the Christmas tree with a sense of gratitude. It was a hilarious drive home, zigzagging up and down the neighbourhood streets to gawk at the lights on snow covered lawns, and listening to Max's one liner banter based on his observations. He had us laughing so hard.... a feat he has accomplished since the kid learned how to walk! He can be so quiet when others are around, but then he can open up like a good stand up comedian when the urge hits him. We are the recipients of his gift.

Yesterday, was the same. Martha arrived home from an 8 hour stint selling with just enough downtime to hang out with us while I prepared for our annual open house. Max, who had been relatively insular most of the afternoon, turned it on and the three of us enjoyed a few good laughs in the kitchen. It began when he appeared from the basement with a pair of "emergency" underwear on his head. The rest of the prepping was put aside as we caught up and connected. It continued between the two of them for another hour or so as I went off to get myself ready for the arrival of our friends........ I could hear them sharing stories and singing to favourite songs that were blaring from a bouncy tune CD mix we have listened to during car trips to and fro.

It has been a stressful two years, no doubt about it. Changes and learning to accept the reality that their Dad doesnt live here anymore has been an ever evolving process. Top it off with my health scare, AND the fact that Martha is moving out on New Year's Day to begin her academic studies at a University two hours from home, as well as all the other transitions that are simply part of life and its safe to say that we have had our fair share of flesh wounds during adjustments. It will continue......... that's how growth occurs...... and where it occurs best is in a place called uncomfortable.

You can't halt change, and God knows you can't avoid the daily reminders. Tonight, as I sat in between my growing children (they are both taller than me now), one leaning on me out of sheer fatigue and another piping out a carol off key on purpose, the laughter oozing out of my pores could not be fully suppressed. Joyful noise simply cannot be and should not be suppressed. Neither can gratitude found in the levity between the discomfort.

This was our first Christmas Eve just the three of us. It would be a lie if I said that this little piece of awareness hadn't poked me in the gut a few times over the past couple of days. I'm sure my children experienced similar moments of gut poking reality. Individually we have had to figure it out. Collectively we fed off each other's coping gifts. This is why I find myself in a place of thanksgiving. The evening certainly didn't unfold as I had envisioned it. When does that ever happen? Rather, it unfolded from its own flow from love, understanding, belonging and acceptance.......... from our strengths and vulnerabilities, but mostly from our inner resilience that has been nurtured by all of the components I've mentioned.......

Time to find out where that Jolly old white haired man hid those stockings. Time to unleash the "Spirit we call Holy" that sits under the tree............. Time for me to find my own bed as I count my overwhelming blessings.

Merry Christmas to you and your families............. May this season offer you a case of the giggles at least once.

shooting stars.... evening lights.

2011-12-22T01:49:00.002-04:00

Candlelight holding up the sunset.

Almost time....... far from ready. It doesn't matter though does it, because it will come in a flurry even if little old me is ready or not. The day is just around the corner............. and I'm glad. Calm and glad.

The tree is up. No chunky garlands. I left them off. I filled it with a thousand lights....... with ornaments from family and friends who have picked them up in their travels for me.... with ornaments I picked up in my travels. It is a universal tree. Multi-cultural.

My daughter exclaimed that it's a "lady" tree. It wasn't planned that way. It just happened. Dancing ladies from Barcelona, Prague, Austria, New York ..... from Indonesia, India, Peru......... angel ladies dusted in gold holding harps and wands. Angels made of pressed tin resplendent in pearl beads. Angels created in a fine raffia made by women ten thousands villages away. Up top is a wobbly legged skater wearing a bright red felt overcoat....her legs splayed from falling into the Christmas tree branch. It was a joyful landing!

I had many plans to create things during my healing and time home waiting for the next part of this journey. But, it wasn't meant to be. Neither was writing. My muse and my craft hands have been still. Silent for the most part as I continued to clear my head doing other types of projects that seem to take much longer than normal.

That's the way it is these days.......... up and down. Clear and then foggy. Focused as much as I can muster on big complicated tasks that challenge me as much as the cancer. Legal stuff. Financial stuff. Trying to help two children reach the plateau of their personal dreams.......... wondering how the hell I'm going to afford it, but knowing I can figure it out. In between these tasks, time with them. Time with friends. A visit from my parents. Time alone to think. Time to listen to music, attend concerts, go to church..... all food for the soul.

I did accomplish one crafty thing...........

I gave a special friend a 3 foot shooting star I made to put up in her backyard so she can see one every night. It has strings of lights as its tail....... I want her to make a wish every day throughout the Christmas season...... right up to Epiphany and beyond until we can sit in my backyard or on a star filled night on the beach this summer and gaze up into the sky to catch one zipping through the air. Wishes upon wishes......... smiles upon smiles....... to defeat winter's frosty ice pellets that can dampen the spirit.

Last summer, she admitted that she had never seen a shooting or falling star before. Surprising since she grew up on the Island and spent many days on the beach. As an adult though, she has lived in a house with many trees in her backyard......... beautiful old trees that have held up forts for climbing kids. But, they have obscured the view of the night sky.

One late night last August after this admission, I was out walking the dog. A shower of shooting stars dazzled above me. I couldn't believe it! 6 or 7 crisscrossed darkness with spectacular clarity....... too many to hang first wishes onto. That would have been greedy anyways. As I stood there in complete awe, I phoned my friend who was already settling into bed for the night. As far as I'm concerned, experiencing your first shooting star far outweighs sleep!

"Anne........! You've got to get outside! There are shooting stars a plenty tonight! Call me back when you see one!"

Out she went......... jammies and all into her backyard, hoping to get a glimpse through broad branches that intertwine from tree to tree......... through the lush leaves that cover her yard in a natural umbrella. No such luck. Determined, she scampered past her own yard onto the walking trail, which still was too dense with trees.......... still beyond the trail to an opening near the park behind her house where the lights were still blaring on the courts and the streetlights glowing in the neighbourhood.

What a valiant, courageous attempt! What a hilarious risk to be out wandering around in flannel jammies with one's face pointed to the sky! All for naught, except a good laugh! She never saw the light show that night. Who knows who saw HER! Hahahaha!

She loved her star............... "No one has built anything for me in a long time" she replied! Hopefully it is up... situated in the middle of her backyard so she can see it from the warmth of her family room. Every night! Tied to those same branches that obscure her view. I left it up to her husband to figure out the mechanics of wiring it into the air! I just build them. I don't situate them! :)

I wonder how many people in this world never have a chance to see a shooting star or even a sky filled with twinkling lights off in the distance? Sometimes, I catch myself taking the beauty for granted. Usually when I'm too busy to look up. But because I am blessed to live in this part of the world, in a home nestled away from the artificial lights of the city, on a street with one streetlight, those stars normally shimmer enough to grab my attention. Make me stop. Make me look and listen. I don't know what I listen for. I guess it is the feeling behind the use of those two senses. Silent comfort? Joyful contentment? Little girl excitement......... wonderment that this world is much more grand than I can fathom?

So is Christmas. The ultimate Star of Wonder! It produces the same reaction....... looking, listening and feeling as it arrives even if we aren't as ready as we thought we'd be.

It doesn't matter really does it? What is ready? We do our best to prepare for the big celebration and make sure everything is just perfect.... Often we are so laden with tasks, life pressures and responsibilities that we forget to look up. Thank God we have the lights of Noel both in the sky and in our homes to grab our attention if only for the amount of time it takes a shooting star to graze across over our human paths. Blink.

Thank God we are children at heart who love a good surprise or too that arrive during the unplanned times of the season. Most of them involve others....... and end up as part of your own story. Gifts of friendship and compassion. Gifts that have no monetary value but matter. Gatherings. Toasts. Interactions. Smiles from strangers. Isn't it funny how we remember the things at Christmas that simply happen rather than are all planned out? Internal shooting stars wrapped in love.

Almost time........... ready as I want to be. Calm and glad. Thankful in a way I have never felt before. Even on miserable weather nights, the shooting stars are a plenty.......

one light bigger than the horizon,
held by an angel............

PS. After two surgeries, I have been told they are confident the cancer cells are gone. I am very relieved. Exhausted now because I think I was holding my breath inside tightened stressy muscles for months. But, all is good. All is bright. Radiation will happen. It's part of the precautionary plan. I will know on Friday the details.

it starts with a breath.........

2011-12-03T14:26:00.000-04:00

The moon's reflection in the river.....

I decided to try to put into words how I prepare myself and get to the place where I can meditate. The first time it happened, it was a gift I stumbled onto. Out of exhaustion. I was so exhausted that it simply occurred because I had no defenses left. It happened when I attended the Greenbelt Festival in the UK a couple of years ago. Since then, I have been able to "revisit" that place inside me whenever I want to.

A few times, I have tried to follow guided meditations or to books on this ancient ritual but I always put the CD's or books aside because it seemed to complicate the process. Like religion, I choose to keep it as clear of accouterments as I can. Not that I want to dumb it down. Rather, I want to keep whatever spiritual journey or path I take to be as clutter free as possible. Less judgement. More acceptance. My pace. Does that make sense? Well, it works for independent little old me!

During this past year and a half, I have used this technique to help me refocus on the here and now rather than the anxieties of the future or the regrets that linger in the past. This fall, I have tried to re-kindle and strengthen my belief in a Higher Power as the best way to find strength in hope and optimism as I take the steps to being healthy and whole again. It most certainly has helped me, because the biggest challenge is not allowing the intrusive scary thoughts to take control over my life!

Maybe you do something similar? Maybe what I do will encourage you to try meditation? Maybe what I do or how I do it creeps you out? Or maybe all of those self help books and meditation books are too directive? This way or the highway?

What I have learned from stumbling upon my ability to find a stillness where prayer dwells?

I let go of that pent up energy in my muscles by breathing. By relinquishing the control, I begin to relax.
I remind myself that I am not alone in this scary world and that I don't always have to be in charge.
I acknowledge the thoughts and feelings that want my undivided attention and consciously let them float away. One breath at a time.
I remember that the word Spirit and the word Breath are tied in meaning. This helps me visualize the invisible Holy Spirit who is in the air all around us. Ancestral spirits too. They are all around us too. I think we feel them deeply at this time of year.

So, without further yapping............... here it is............

I close my eyes to lift up the inside blinds which cover the window that looks out upon the landscape of my life.

I turn up my internal volume to let in the hums, hymns and harmonies that is the soundtrack of my life.

I release my mind to the thoughts and lessons stored as reflections and mysteries of my life.

I open my heart to rambling brambles of feelings that lead and guide me through the heightened senses of my life.

Deep slow breathing begins with over-awareness of actions

As I welcome in those immediate thoughts, feelings, sights and sounds tempered with anxious vibrations,

I breathe.

Awareness breathing. Too deliberate at first.

Breaths like new dance steps take a while to master without full stop awareness.

Acknowledge the vibrations...... those nervous cluttery fears with a cordial greeting, then send them on their way.

I find the courage to let go of my self-centred energy.

The longer I breathe, the easier it is to surrender the energy over ......

I breathe......knowing fresh air is filled with the goodness of Spirit.

Breath ........... Spirit.

Goodness.

Kindness.

Step, dance, step.....

Relearning to let go ........ to let the breaths happen ..... to let them lead.

To let the Spirit lead.

To let the Holy into the Spirit.

Holy Spirit ..... Breath.

Guiding goodness

Smiling kindness

Step, dance, step.

I allow my vision to center around my perception of home.

I allow the breaths to take care of me.

Harsh immediacy hands over to relaxed timelessness......

I hand over the reins... controlling energy over to blue energy.

Always blue. Don't know why. Soothing blue.

The gates inside me open........ like a vessel ..... unblocked.

Some call them chakras I think.

Senses cascade.......

My eyes catch sight of soothing blends of warm twilight,

earthened hues, tidal blues, tickle pink flowers

elegant morning sun's rays of light lifting off the surface of the river

As it flows, as it flows past my internal window.

My volume hears harmony measured in a pattern beat.

I release my mind to explore mystery

As I let go of controlling emotions,

I re-learn how to open my heart to the bathing of a humbling message cupped by grace and gratitude ......

Life's gifts are real, raw and enhancing.

Who I am and where I am is who and where I am meant to be.

__________________________

These moments of meditation have a timeline of their own. They could last fifteen minutes or an hour. I never know until it is complete. And I know I have completed this cycle of calming the inside turmoil when I reach the moment when my whole body takes in one enormous breath of air and lets it out......... whoosh!

margins...........

2011-11-28T00:41:00.000-04:00

As a little girl, I was never really good at colouring a picture inside the margins. I'd start off with those intentions, keeping an eye on the black outline, studiously shading with the same even strokes. Before I knew it, a line of colour would cross over beyond the margins. I'd usually lose interest in finishing the task. Too repetitive. Too mindless. Or maybe it wasn't mindless. Maybe it was exactly the opposite and it was just that my mind that always had a tendancy to drift. It never felt creative. It always felt too closed in!

The same can be said for my penmanship. As my writing style evolved, it became more and more scripty looking. Given that I am left handed as well and can't see the page as I write, remaining within the left margin and the right side of the paper as well as staying on the line were never my forte. Can't cut a straight line with scissors either. And I suck at craft projects that require teeny tiny fine motor skills. Beading, hand stitching, needlepoint? Forget about it! Knitting too. I've tried. Not my cup of tea.

I'm a big canvas, large crafty project kind of person! Expressive! Open ended! No boundaries........ Creative infinity. That's my preference. There's a freedom of motion and emotion during the process that satisfies and suits me. I could say the same thing about the type of work I enjoy the most. Nothing frustrates me more than being shackled by a bunch of bureaucratic rules, especially the ones that impact people negatively or make no sense to me. I like to push the envelope..... beyond the margins! To a place where thinking outside of the designated box produces results. Hold my hands down. Or, keep me cornered while I feel a sense of unfairness and I just about burst.

Looks like my body reacts the same way to margins. It colours outside of the lines! What does this mean?? Well, it means that I have another appointment with the surgeon on Wednesday. She needs to make the "margins" around the microscopic cancer area another 1 milimetre wider before I can heal fully and then start radiation treatment..... before everyone is comfortable that all of the cancer has been removed.

1 milimetre.......... Crazy eh? The width of a hair! It seems so outrageously small! Yet, it is monumentally important this time that my "margins" are respected!! It's not in my hands to accomplish this. Thank God, I'm in the hands of a master whom I completely trust......who knows her margins. I bet even as a little girl she was able to colour without her mind drifting............ Let's frigging hope so!

A friend or two who have also experienced this told me that its more of a head game than anything. They weren't kidding! Every day, I try my best to stay emotionally afloat, to keep things in perspective, to rid myself of "energy vampires," to take in fresh air, to smile, to have bubble baths........ and to catch a falling star to put into my pocket so I can pull it out on the days when the reality of this knocks the sense right out of my head! It truly is a head game. An spinny head twirl!

Today, the first Sunday of Advent, I lit a candle. It is the candle of hope and expectation......... Just one more silly old milimetre......... before I light next Sunday's candle. The Peace one.......

memories floating in the late night air.........

2011-11-24T03:37:00.000-04:00

Late night ramblings almost always leads to thoughts that have been turned off for a while. Random memories surface, triggered by a recognizable feeling or a glimpse of something you see in the darkness of the sky. I just looked out the window .......... down river. It had been a snowy day, the first of what may be a long season of hibernation, of contemplation, of healing through meditation and treatment. Evening's winds brought more swirling tiny flakes, the ones that accumulate more rapidly than the fatter ones for some reason. Now, all is calm. A blanket of pristine white stuff covers the streets, blending them into the rest of the landscape.

The clouds are breaking. There are no stars visible. Yet. Only a few streetlights glow yellow on the other side of the right. What caught my eye was an unusual light on the horizon. Nothing glamourous. Just a swath of dull light coming through the runaway clouds. It's reassuring message tells me this latest storm is over. For some reason, the view snatches a heartfelt memory I hadn't revisited in long time.

I love when that happens! It seems so out of the blue.......... You're looking at one thing and all of a sudden, your thoughts are transported to another time and place. You hear a piece of music and in one grace note, you find yourself flooded with stories and faces from your past. Our senses are such a beautiful guide to tapping into our foundational archives. Sometimes they produce smiles. Sometimes tears. Sometimes searing soul pain. Sometimes comfort. One or all.......... we feel them when allow the sensory connections to be made between a present moment and a past moment.

Tonight, as I looked out the window and saw the dull light above the river horizon........ clouds breaking off, floating individually at such a low level, I automatically found myself transported to the time when my son had just been born. Over 14 years ago. For the first three weeks of Max's life, he was nocturnal. His little time clock was upside down. Consequently so was his Momma's. I think if he had been my first baby, it would've made me feel inadequate and stressed.... second guessing my ability and all that. Instead, I was in a different headspace......... and embraced the time we had together during the middle of the night when few lights twinkled in the dark, when the fall storms moved through leaving peace. We were awake together. We slept at the same time. Day was night. Night was day. Our own mixed up routine.

The majority of time at 3 am, he was in my arms as I comfortably sat in the cushioned corner of the couch. I'd rock him and talk quietly. I kissed his forehead often, transferring my love to him through touch. Sometimes, I'd have him tucked in the crook of my right arm while reading a book held by my left hand. Sometimes, I'd lay him down on a fluffy blanket on the couch to let him stretch his limbs, to let him look around at his surroundings. If he did fall asleep it was always against my chest.... his little trusting body cuddled up with a complete sense of security.

Our time together during our nocturnal adjustments left an indelible bond that gestated then and continued to grow in the months following when late nights meant nursing and then a return to his bassinet. I loved having him in my arms. As I did with Martha. Day or night.

It also left me with a peaceful feeling when my time clock turns upside down..... when my regular routine is cast aside for one reason or another...... and I'm free to go with the flow of sleeping and doing other activities at the wrong time of day. Its certainly not stress free when I MUST get up in the morning to head to work. But, as I journey down this little life detour, I feel blessed to have the opportunity to step out of the regular day and listen to the drumming of my own pace.......... my own day and night.

Now, my two babies have grown up. Well, Max has a few more inches to go. Still they need reassurance. Different circumstances. Different individual needs and life journeys. Reactions to what their Momma is going through are real. They need reassurance and I give it. As much as I know, they know. They have had to endure a lot of adult issues over the past 2 years and there was no way of protecting them from the harsh realities. As much as I would have loved to do just that!

Routines like having dinner together at the table, like morning breakfast served in front of the sports updates on the TV, like sharing stories, personal news, thoughts and ideas ..... like putting a fire on the fireplace that acts as a conduit to settling in for an evening of low key-ness, when listening is golden ..... like me tiptoeing into their rooms as they sleep just to check on them...... like encouraging them to try something they have expressed an interest in.... like quizzing them just before a test, or providing feedback all support reassurance. Bonding. Belonging. Feeling loved.

All is blessedly quiet tonight. I'm the only one living the nocturnal life under this roof. But I feel far from alone. The bond I feel between my two children and I is one of multi-layered goodness. Full of warm memories....... full of present day love ........... full of gratitude. I am a very very lucky Mom.

Later today, that little baby I held in my arms and rocked and kissed? He's writing an scholarship exam that is only offered to one person in the whole province. It would allow him to be able to attend a boarding school he would really like to be a part of. This is part of his journey. He needs and wants to write it.... just to see. I am happy he has the confidence and the BIG dreams to lead him. It is also a chance for him to learn about how the universe sometimes can look after us............ you just have to put it out there! I'm very proud of his drive and focus.

Late night thoughts.............. random memories.......... comfort in the love that remains.......

Canadian flavoured inspirations...........

2011-11-23T05:40:00.000-04:00

I watched an interview tonight with Michael J. Fox. He spoke about his struggles with Parkinson's Disease and the support he receives from his friends and loved ones especially when he's about to step out into the public and his body won't cooperate. Times when he would've backed out, postponed the event, there was always someone who cared to give him an invisible but warmly felt embrace, enough support to propel him forward.

Fox's primary focus since his diagnosis has been on the public and governmental enlightenment of Parkinson's, and most importantly on advocacy. Demanding more funding for research. Drumming up more awareness for the need for research. His choice to go public, to use his personal situation in a manner which promotes the eradication of Parkinson's and other related neurological diseases through intensive research.

This is a man with a mission, albeit one he never ever would've predicted. He impresses and inspires so many. Me included. Watching the interview on CTV tonight, I couldn't help but smile at his down to earth approach coupled with his realistic passion as he spoke about his Foundation.

TEAMFOX, he explained in the interview is what he called "Disruptive Philanthropy." The Foundation wants results NOW. There is no Department of Cures, he said. Money is dispensed for all kinds of research with little or no connection or accountability. This team wants to know the findings, the progress. Face to face discussions. Working together. What motivates Michael J. Fox? He has taken on this massive responsibility on behalf of millions of others hoping for a cure to make demands, to raise funds, to send a message that there IS a Foundation that is working for them.

Active, proactive....... putting it out there! I am convinced Michael J. Fox's optimistic yet "disruptive" approach, which always comes across as respectful and dignified not only will help this cause, it has most certainly enhanced his life by providing a spiritual energy you can't define.

Here's another story.................

Last night, regular programming was altered on the CBC. Hockey Night in Canada kicked in with a special hockey game, featuring the return of Sydney Crosby, Canada's golden boy. (he did score the gold medal winning goal in the Vancouver Olympics..... something so magical, I don't think you could've scripted the ending better!) He is THE hope for the NHL to break into the American sports market more effectively. HE IS the hero and inspiration for every little kid who gets up early for hockey practice at the local rink. If Sydney could start off as a "Timbit" player and rise to the top of the hockey scoring echelon, why can't I?

This is the message..... He is the ultimate spokesperson for the sport. Like his predecessor, Wayne Gretzky, Crosby is a well spoken hometown boy who takes his role seriously. Respectful whenever he is thrusted into the media limelight (daily) and patient with the onslaught of questions, autograph sessions, time with kids, Sydney naturally became our collective son.

You'd have to been living in a Great White North shoebox not to know that Sydney Crosby suffered a concussion almost a year ago that sidelined him indefinitely. Even if you don't catch the news on a regular basis, chances are you heard on story update after another...... from the "catastrophic" messages that he would never play again, to the hopeful message that he just needs time to heal. Many debates on the need to change the type of on ice playing/hitting/checking ensued as did discussions on what a concussion feels like and how it is treated. Often, a Crosby news update was the headliner in the National paper, or the top story on the National news, usurping some violent uprising that was changing another nation in the Middle East! SAFE to assume this got out of hand. The media beat this story to a pulp.

However, like many folks across this country, I embraced the hype. Why? Because of his manner. Because of how he presented himself while working hard to get back in shape. Because he has drive, determination, focus. I wanted to see return to the ice again. Would he be just as effective? How would he perform? Would he be able to find that confidence.... that "zone" where only the elite and gifted can enter or would it be gone for good? It took a matter of seconds to see that Sydney Crosby still ruled the ice. 2 goals and 2 assists later? Boy Wonder is back.

What he went through personally has had to be life altering. That famous hockey check that knocked him to the ground a year ago (and has been shown on the news on a daily basis....!!!) not only left him with a brain injury and an unpredictable healing journey, it foisted him into the role of spokesman. Head injuries now have their spokesperson. Even new techniques were tried on him to get him back to top shape. We're learning abou them now. It will be interesting to see if he takes this on as effectively as Michael J. Fox has Parkinson's Disease............ If he's paying attention to his destiny, he will. For now, let him play, play, play..... let him be the quiet mentor of every kid who laces up for early morning practices.....

So, why did these two stories merge into one article? Hockey. Michael J. Fox is a rabid hockey fan. Crazy for it!! He may be an American citizen, but he is a Canuck at heart. Grew up here. Was fed on Hockey Night in Canada. He's often seen sitting in the stands at a game. I'm sure he has had many discussions with his friends on the progress of our golden boy Sydney...... However, there other connections I was thinking abou too. These two guys have the same behavioural manner. The same approach to the public. Respectful. Approachable. Determined. Emotionally literate. Dignified even when they wear flannel plaid! They project the manner all Canadians aspire to. These are values we collectively hold dear. It is what is expected of us. In the boardrooms, on the warfronts, during peacekeeping, in front of a camera........... in our communities, in our classrooms. Face to face.

The other thing? Well it turns out that the place where Michael J. Fox's tremours quietly settle down the most? At the rink. When he's geared up...... skates, jersey, shoulder pads etc, it appears Fox is in his happy place! Put a hockey stick in his hands and Michael J. Fox is physically and spiritually integrated. The friendly banterer who continues to be an effective advocate? I'm sure he was glued to the TV last night too waiting, watching and hoping Sydney could bring the magic back to the game.

These two men, have learned to work hard, and have learned how to tackle "mind over matter....." Their trials are part of who they are....... Just thinking about them tonight inspires me as I accept the next stage in my own journey. Their determination certainly puts things into perspective.

jumpy monkey thoughts......

2011-11-21T19:39:00.000-04:00

Certainty is a scarce commodity in high demand. We want the truth. WE demand to know the facts, the details, the credible rather than the incredible. Feed me assurance, we say. Don't leave me hanging like a dangling participle, we demand. Give me certainty! A whole punch bowl filled with it!

Life doesn't work like that. Most of the time we live in mid-air subjectivity, anxious to find safe ground. We touchdown on that safe ground and before we know it, we bounce back up in the air, arms flailing, legs splayed. Trampolines are what we crave! NOT certainty!

The longer we feel a sense of security that anchors us to knowing and believing with unequivocal assurance, the more our urge intensifies to add a new bouncy spice into our lives. As much as we seek out certainty to own it, we quickly realize we just want to rent it. Just for a breather. Just for a little while.

Today, I need that breather. I need to feel that dollop of reassurance that all will work out just fine. Financially, physically, emotionally, spiritually. The whole enchilada! Just a little safety net made of soft down to catch me, to rock me, to take the load off my shoulders and the growling from my stomach. A bouquet of blossoming care I can hold onto with my hands. To inhale its sweet aromatic comfort.

But, I know its not within my outward reach. It never will be. No ........ its inside. I've got to reach deep inside for that relaxin' comfort. For a reprieve. Its in my control how to react/respond/act. This very thought? Gives me strength. Produces a smile.

I am fine. I am. Because I know this one rule. Don't ever ever believe everything you think. Some of them are only jumpy monkey thoughts and you know where they lead you?

trust in life............. trust in the spirits all around.........

2011-11-21T08:47:00.000-04:00

The repose of night is being held ransom by the rippling of memories. Let this beautiful Monday sunrise caress and bless this day. Let this be the day where I regain balance.......... where I trust life again.

You can't trust LIFE if you don't trust YOURSELF.

Peace. Clear headed calm. This is where i long to be this morning. I am finding glimpses of it inside the unsettled stew. But, I can't seem to lasso it to last longer. Good energy quickly melts into a mass of apathy. My feelings look like a pail of slushy swamp water. I don't trust them enough to take these cross dressing emotions out in public for very long. Spontaneous tears are not a welcome sight. It makes everyone uncomfortable. There is little patience for them. I've been wallowing in the swamp water for a few days as I wait to hear back from the surgeon, as I wait to hear what will be the next part of this detour in my life.

What always gets between me and that sense of inner calm, besides whacky hormones, are my imagination and my expectations. Even if I am cognizant of creating them as a way of preparing myself for an event, I get ahead of myself, or I plan for a scenario that could easily happen, but doesn't. Whether they are positive or negative event-outcomes accumulating in this brain of mine that never ceases to stir up unrelenting frights, follies, and fantasies, my creative horizon of expectations almost always turns up the volume on my emotional dial. They foist me out into the hinterland .... into a territory completely unknown, especially if the situation/event I find myself in has the potential to be out of my control. I am letting the dark side of my imagination devour me.

Visioning from the soul.........

I wonder........

What if.........

hmmmm..........

What would happen if.........

You'd think I would have learned this lesson by now. Expect the unexpected ....... or just let life unfold as it is going to anyways. ....... Expectations can be unrelenting teasers that prostitute our emotions.

The blending of my imagination with the action of my expectations is the force I reconcile with daily. And if I don't? If I leave them to duke it out, then I am left feeling unbalanced. Off kilter. In limbo. Dazed. Even my taste buds are all wrong. This is the conflict I am struggling with now. As much as I know and WANT to be focused on the present moment rather than get all tangled up in the mystery of what may follow.... as much as I crave to be settled inside a pillow of mind full peace, my imagination whips up expectations into a frothy concoction of anxiety. I'm not very good at waiting. It depresses me.

On the other hand.............. I love how broad minded my imagination works! That is a true blessing! A gift! It could give me a break every now and then, but for the most part, it has been a crazy companion all my life. My imagination can conjure up just about anything and DOES! It is the fuel for my muse, the trigger for any project idea, theme party, trip planning, spontaneous dream I've ever had. Lately though, the dreams I've woken up remembering teeter on the brink of real and are peppered with people from my past. They are creeping me out!

Oh, the stories my imagination could tell! The secrets it holds! Some of them are pretty darn erotic! It entertains me in boring meetings, stimulates my senses when I need a boost and motivates my whole being by providing a new lens, a new way of seeing something. It gets me outside of that BOX to think beyond what I can see, feel and hear. It is the decorated portal I travel down when I'm writing. It takes me down unending waterslides that twist and turn and never let me know when I'm going to splashdown into the pool of water. Funny thing, I rarely know what the temperature that water will be.

Perhaps this is where I should focus. Instead of storing up the ideas, I need to unleash some of them. Rather than wait to "know" whether the surgeon got all the cancer or when I am to start radiation, or any of the hundreds of scenarios percolating in my brain, maybe I just have to make some plans.

Make plans. Organize a party. Decorate, demonstrate, day trippin', do my thing........... and if I can't do it because of an appointment conflict..... does it really matter?

Expect that all won't go as planned. Expect that some of it will. Expect some surprises. Good. Bad. Unpredictable. If I'm ever going to feel that balance.......... that sense of being in charge rather than my life DETOUR being in charge? I've gotta take the helm and put my imagination to better use. The best medicine to combat the "headgame...."

Trust in life unfolding. Trust in the spirits all around. Know you are never alone. Even when there is no repose in the middle of the night...........

A Morning Offering....

2011-11-09T07:17:00.000-04:00

I arise today

Blessed by all things,

Wings of breath,

Delight of eyes,

Wonder of whisper,

Intimacy of touch,

Eternity of soul,

Urgency of thought,

Miracle of health,

Embrace of God.

May I live this day,

Compassionate of heart,

Clear in word,

Gracious in awareness,

Courageous of thought

Generous in love.

John O'Donohue.

Bless this Space Between Us

A Book of Blessings.

Radiance and time........

2011-11-08T04:30:00.001-04:00

Blogging in the wee hours is a liberating feeling.

All puppies and children are fast asleep in this neck of the woods. Tucked in their beds. Safe. Most of the city is quiet. New Moms are up with their thirsty babies. Some are pacing to seek calm. Some are rocking back and forth. Some are sitting under a blanket nursing quietly wondering if they will ever have another full night of sleep. The fridge whirs........ dreams float on by. I wonder how many little ones weren't rocked, tucked in......unsafe?

Outside, even the wind is quiet tonight. Stars alight. The moon, high up in the sky now looks like its bursting to be full. Soon. It will be full. But the constant river flows it's timeless meandering. Comforting predictability, my river flows............... I can't hear it, but I know its out there.

I've always enjoyed witching hour writing. When I can't sleep, I come here to reflect on the lives of my loved ones and how everything is unfolding. We have no control over most of life's roll out. The best we can do is recognize it, accept the tangles of it, and just be grateful for the goodness every single day has to offer. And love one another as we set forth...... We never have to tackle life's tangles alone.

Last week, I held a baby for the first time in a long time. He sat in my arms drinking his bottle while his Mom cut my hair. I had forgotten the soft comfort of a little one, so trusting......... so dependent... nestled in my arms. New life. A miracle. A smiley, wiggly, curious little being happy to be held. Happy to be fed. Satisfied enough to fall sound asleep......... those heavy eyes opening and closing until they settled into a nap.

Last week and every week I too am held. Big strong arms wrapped around me. Loved. There is no other feeling that generates a sense of security as someone holding you in their arms. Sharing a moment when words sift into the ground beneath us. I've come to the conclusion that if there is ever a moment when time takes a breath, it is when we are in the arms of another.......... when we have our arms wrapped around another human. Time remains in the present and forgets to creep forward.

The other night, my son crawled into my bed. Snuggled under the covers, he settled in to watch TV. He looked so content........... so comfortable, and I kind of wondered if taking over my bed, the duvet up to his neck full of my scents, head on my pillows that he felt my presence like a hug. One that he may have needed as reassurance that his Momma is going to be alright. He fell fast asleep.......... like a little boy again. I kissed him as he dreamt. Secure. Safe. Relaxed. All is well.

On Sunday, I drove 2 hours to Sackville to pick up my daughter and her friend. It will be a familiar drive beginning in January because that's where she will be living and attending university. I offered to pick them up this weekend because I wanted the time in the car with her........... conversations always flow more sanguinely. But, I selfishly wanted to drive on my own, free of duties and drama....... liberated on the highway listening to my music. A little landscape adventure accompanied by Paul Simon. Have you heard his latest CD? It's gorgeous. Layered and full of sounds and thought provoking words about God and gratitude. Toe tapping too. He's a genius.

Before I hit the road, I attended the church service at St. Paul's United. I'm now a member, switching from the church I attended years and years ago in another province. It felt right. It was time.

I always sit in the same spot. Near the front. On the right. I like that vantage point. Morning light filters through the deep coloured stained glass.......... through a Bible story. Coloured rays touch upon the front of the church like a wand of miracles. Gentle beauty. Sometimes it touches upon the head of a baby being baptised and on the arms of the Minister holding the baby. Kissed by the spirit of light.

Sunday's service, as always, was thought and feeling provoking. There is always something that touches the chord.... that one we often lose. It brings it back to life again for another week. But, this service was special because it plucked that chord over and over again. Turned it into a heart-hymn that continues to radiate as well as to calm my inside fears. The message, based on a story from the Bible was of being prepared because you just never know........ the future is unseen. The prayer, written and spoken so beautifully by a dear friend........ was about remembering our ancestors.... our veterans..... and learning from their valiant efforts. We live a blessed life.

Tucked into the middle of the service was a very moving rendition of "In Flanders Fields" followed by the strong resonating call of the Last Post. Is there another piece of music that can bring to attention our collective thoughts of the fallen? While we stood deep in thought-full remembrance in the silence after, I heard the sound of wind. Winter wind. A little rush sound high up in the peak of the church. I have no idea if anyone else heard it. I did.

My thoughts automatically shifted to pictures in my head of young men, shivering, wet, lost in trenches away from home, fighting in fear. I tried to conjure up what it must've been like to live, eat, breathe, suffer, fight amongst their comrades during the bitter winter months. For our freedom. For our future. Courage. Resilience. Hope. Optimism. Determination. Belief in what they were fighting for.

That one errant wind sound brought a spirit of insight. It offered the gift of reverence. It allowed little me to go deeper in time. It left me wondering. It left me feeling holy grateful. It also put some perspective into my fears and thinking about my own journey this week. Was I the only one that heard it? Spirit wind.

Life is an uncertain. If we can get our heads around that, we're doing well. So often we try to hold onto reasons and rationalizations. We soak in our own dramas forgetting that others have experienced far worse and have come out of it with new eyes, and perhaps some emotional weariness. It is the burdensome weariness which we humans needs to pay attention to......... if we can lighten the load of others, we bring the Word of God alive. Our actions make them matter. Faith is an action word.

Tomorrow, Wednesday November 9th at 10 am, I am having that surgery to get rid of the breast cancer. I take in with me calm, and the embrace of many.... those strong arms that hold me. Love. Radiant strength. Don't know about the future. Can't know. That's the scary part. But, what I do know is that it is the story unfolding that is life..... not skipping to the end to see what happens.

Time to love bomb that cancer. Let the sun shine. Let the stars sparkle. Let that moon burst into a full one. Let faith be the strength and love be the healer................ and may relief feel like a sleeping son wrapped in his Momma's blankets.

I'm ready. Just gotta do a few load of laundry first............!

music, candles and all things bright and beautiful.......

2011-10-30T23:52:00.000-03:00

I attended two church services this weekend. Both of them reminded me what it was that turned my faith light back on a few years ago. It was a wonderful reminder.

Yesterday, I was searching in the archives of my blog and stumbled upon a couple of pieces I had written that I really liked. The only reason I believed they came from me is because I posted them on here. I could not remember writing it! It reminded me that my faith light turned on a few years ago. The words which had flowed into me, through me and out of my finger tips came from that place. My writing at its best comes from a place beyond my vision...... it is the gift I have been given to express the living word of God. I am the vessel.........

This afternoon, I found stillness for a quiet period. As I sat in silence, breathing in and breathing out, I could feel that comforting faith light warm me. Anxieties lifted. I could hear the music of life blend all around me. With my eyes closed I could see the calm flicker of a candle. It never burns out. It is never snuffed.

Earlier this evening I sat down for dinner with my two children. The dampness in the livingroom was gone .... replaced by the warmth of the blazing fire I had been feeding for a couple of hours. The drama of the week was gone ...... replaced by gratitude and respect for the bountiful life we are so privileged to lead. For one another. For our home. For the love we share. I was reminded of what it was that turned my faith light back on a few years ago.......

Tonight, I bundled up for the first time this fall to ward off the slushie winds that tell the tale of winter's pending arrival, and took the dog for her walk. I pushed away the thoughts of what has to "get done" this week to be better prepared in order to be able to look around, to listen openly and to inhale the aromatic change of seasons. It's easy to do when I'm with Lily because she is always so enthusiastic to go for a walk like it's the first time EVER. She always takes a smiling run and body slide onto her back on the neighbour's lawn....... her legs flailing in the air......... her back being rubbed by terra firma. You can't help but smile with envy that she has the capacity to live in the moment simplistically joyful!

As we walked with the wind, the dark night, which felt so November-foreboding earlier in the evening began to transform as the storm clouds scattered and splintered into strips of cotton. Those once slushie winds were pushing them beyond the horizon. Those nasty north winds howling through the barren trees were revealing a twinkling gallery of light specks up above. Off to the side, a sideways smiling moon that had its best glow on. Looking, listening, inhaling, I gratefully and respectfully stood alone on the small street I call home. Nestled safely within a vast universe ...... Again, I was reminded of faith. The Living Word

The light of my faith comes from believing God lives in and among us. We are the Living Word. And we do it best when we just let ourselves be open to being a sensory expressive and receptive human.

We do it best when we allow ourselves embrace the basic but so important lessons as the touchstones of how we connect and interact with others and with nature....... to love, to find a way to communicate, to respond, to treat everyone equally, to be kind..... to hear, see, touch, feel, inhale daily moments with a heart of gratitude.

It's how I want to live. It is what I strive for everyday. Whether its through my writing, my interactions, my actions. I may stumble into a field of selfishness from time to time. I may overreact and not handle things well on occasion, especially when I'm stressed out...... when my fuse is short. My words may dry up. My strength may succumb to fatigue. But, it is a goal I keep in the uppermost of my mind......... that we all play a role in the Body of Christ. Humanity makes up the Body of Christ.

If God lives among us, as I believe He does, then we always have the ultimate Mentor to help guide us back to what really counts.

The other night, after a day of feeling shattered and tired from not going into surgery, I went outside and sat on the back steps to catch my breath. I looked up in the night sky and what should appear at the moment I needed reassurance? A beautiful shooting star.......... I laughed out loud and hooked a wish upon its tail and hummed the tune.......... All things bright and beautiful...........

we are humans becoming.......

2011-10-29T12:51:00.000-03:00

Singing Sands beach, Souris PEI

You can never go back to what use to be,

Returning is not part of your destiny.

Whatever happened, its all in the past,

No matter what present shadows it casts.

How much control do we have as we live out our lives?

Those choices we made unfurled with surprise.

History leaves us scratching in pain

Sometimes joyful memories to revisit again.

It was what it was, but when its all said and done.

Those moments are part of what's yet to come

You can never go back to what used to be.....

Becoming is part of your destiny.

forming, storming, norming.......reforming.

2011-10-28T06:09:00.000-03:00

Indirectly due to my cold, the surgery that was supposed to take place on Wednesday was postponed until November 9th. At first I was stunned by the turn of events. I only heard after I had been registered for day surgery, had blood taken, had an EEG and was sitting waiting for the next step when I was told that they had taken me off the schedule. That was it. Despite all of my efforts to kick the damn cold, it was all for naught. I was so ready. Once the medication I had taken to calm my nerves wore off, the emotional and adrenaline let down left me shattered.

Exhausted. Angry. Dis-integrated. I went from deep sleep to quick step pacing to feeling like the girl who cried WOLF! I feel like I created this amazing orchestral force of Oneness that produced shooting stars of hope only to be caught raising a ruckus with Conductor's baton that lost its magic.

A friend of mine told me I would turn this into an opera. I had no conscious intentions of doing that, but well..... he knows me better. I just need to find the Soprano. Gee, I wonder if Marg Delahanty is available now that her gig with Toronto Mayor Rod Ford fell flat?

Its Friday morning now. Perspective once again prevails over emotional reactivity. I can sit still again. I can think straight. Its amazing the power of the flood of emotions.....mine could've lit up a small town! Too bad the damn burst and I couldn't find a more productive way to rein it in. But, I can't be too hard on myself. It took most of my resilience, strength, optimism, and direction to plan, prep and carry on without the freakish reality slamming me in the gut both at home and at work, ...... to get things cleared up at work, to get this house in order, to get myself in the right head space and to get this family ready for their Momma to be out of commision for a while. So many details and to do lists..... I was as prepared as I could muster.

Now I have to do it all over again. Now, I can say I can do it all over again. Shit happens. Shift happens. Chalk it up to another life experience to teach me how to surrender my desire to control things over to the cosmos. The universe will look after me. I may not know the real reason behind the delay, but in the grand scheme of things, perspective has allowed me to see it as a blip rather than a dramatic Aria. The universe will look after us, if we allow it to take the lead..... if, as Father John O'Donohue suggested, we choose the lens to see through life that helps us make our gaze beautiful........ Here is a little blessing from his book chalk full of them:

"I give thanks for arriving safely in a new dawn,
For the gift of eyes to see the world,
The gift of mind to feel at home
In my life, the waves of possibility
Breaking on the shore of dawn,
The harvest of the past
That awaits my hunger,
And all the furtherings
This new day will bring."

Since I posted the news on my blog last Sunday night, I have been showered by the most unbelievable support from all around the world. I asked for help to "love bomb" the cancer rather consider it a battle and a beautiful barrage of warm, warm love along with offers to help me with food, drives, accomodation, visits, prayers, blue light blessings wrapped me and my family in a furry blanket of many colours. Emails, facebook comments, phone calls, cards, flowers, a bottle of Baileys, and a big container of homemade chicken stew ....... visits to my office and home from caring hearts wishing me speedy recovery ..... wow, WOW, WOW! Thank you so much. Thank you, thank you.

I am blessed, loved, looked after, in charge sometimes, grateful, and tremendously frightened by this part of my life journey. I hold on as I let go. As this new morning's waves break into a new dawn, I give thanks for a new day. Fresh with no mistakes. So far. Open to opportunities to connect with others. One full of humour and frustrations ..... of challenges and comfort ...... of beautiful Arias, laments as well as hip swaying rhythms ...... of shared smiles, stories and simmering learning, of giving it all I have. May this day add a few grace notes to the opera that is my life, and the opera that is your life...... AND, may this day, a Friday, end with a glass of crisp white wine! I hear wine goes well with drama.

Let the universe look after me please......

2011-10-24T00:55:00.001-03:00

Walk away for too long in a non-aligned fashion and sometimes its darn difficult to retrace those memorable meanderings..... can you ever really backtrack?

Walk on. Walk on.

Stories....oh, the stories and experiences that have filtered and been felt by this crazy river girl! Accumulated touchstone people stories tucked together, colourful reckonings, tender truths, textured weavings of startle-charged news all stored inside me. I havent spilled them on paper, or sketched them out. It seems as though I've needed to remain aloof to my little blog........ I've needed to ramble in this noisy life...... you know those outside noises that demand attention?

Until I began to hear the inner growl. The one that niggles and wiggles and pokes you inside the ribs? The noises that push you off your presumed path into landscapes that draw your attention away from what you THINK matters. You know, those noises you can't muffle, stifle or control because they are so big and boisterous you HAVE to listen.

Noises on the outside....... Noises on the inside......

The walk becomes a jog, becomes a run. You can never really run away from the noises on the inside.

And then..... and then......."STOP! LISTEN!" says something deep inside your soul. Life trips you up into a tanglement of confusion. It's then you come face to face with what matters. This time, the face I was looking at when all things stopped? My caring intuitive Doctor.

Though a tunnel, I heard........ "it came back positive...."

WHAT? There were no lumps. No bumps. No sore spots. Nothing. WHAT?

Is it crazy to admit that I was not surprised? My doctor is intuitive. I am intuitive. I knew I was going to hear her say those words. I knew it. Through a tunnel........ Oh my God. I knew. Yet, there was no indication whatsoever.

As I looked into her big brown eyes, the same ones that I have looked into after I gave birth to my babies and she came into the hospital room broadly smiling to see them all wrapped in flannel nestled in my arms, when my son had croup, when my infant daughter had pneumonia ....... when I spilled my anxieties and stress over carrying too much of a load at home and work and needed time off, when my then husband had just been told he had suffered a stroke and she forcefully told us it was going to be alright, that he was going to recover fully (which he did), when I shuddered and stammered out the news of a marriage break up and asked her to take away that wretched sense of feeling discarded like a candy bar wrapper....... AS I looked into her trusting brown eyes, I heard the news. The biopsy was positive. I have breast cancer.

The noises stopped. My voice became small. I felt small. Startled. Alone. SO Alone. The only thing I could do was will myself to stay in that tunnel with her.... to absorb the hopeful side of the news .... tiny .... non-invasive ..... not a death sentence..... going to be fine.... fine..... FINE ...... strong woman ..... early detection ..... caught very early ...... to hear that she was going to be there with me for this part of my life's ride!

"I will be there for you all the way!"

In a matter of seconds, I jumped up from the chair in her office, whipped off my dress, unclipped my bra and demanded she do a double check exam. No bumps..... no hurts. Nothing. I hear myself babbling like a fool. "If its so tiny," I say, "can they just suck it out with a straw or something like you would venom???" "Jesus," I hear myself say, "I've just come around to liking these droopy breasts of mine!!! I've always thought they were just a pain in the ass until I started dating again."

She laughed. I laughed. But, I was telling the truth. For the first time in my life, I was beginning to believe my breasts were beautiful. An asset.

"Why?" I ask, "Why did you send me in the first place?"

"I have no idea." She replies. "It was a gut feeling....."

"I had the same gut feeling."

We stand there stunned and a bit creeped out by the serendipity of the news.

I have always believed her. She has always taken the right steps for me and my family. It was intuition that she sent me for a diagnostic mammogram in the first place. No other reason. She just did it. Thank God. She hugged me like an old friend. We are. Thank God she is in my life.

_________________

STOP. LISTEN. Look around you. When was the last time you reflected on your assumptions?? Those noisy mid-life assumptions? They have been slamming me in the face, in the gut, and straight into my soul-full awareness regularly since I heard the news. Meaningless assumptions. They have no power now.

Amazing how quickly you realize that all the stuff you've been hoarding ...... everything from the grudges to the resentments, to the daily irritations slide away into an abyss called "it doesn't matter at all.........." In a short time, which actually felt like eternity as I went through the process of "finding out...." I've come to realize that all that burdensome shit I carry in an over-the-shoulder-satchels are heavy hitter diversions.

Like everyone, I use those smudgy grudges, those bitter tasting resentments and those victim inducing irritations as armour. Protection from feeling vulnerable. Mufflers from those tender truths that leave gouges on our hard held innocence.

Wow. Vulnerability never felt so raw. It arrived in a rush of prickling heat, jumbled thoughts. Initially, the diagnosis left me ripped in two. Disassociated. Too numb to drive. Sobbing until I thought I would throw up. Then, I would remember what my doctor told me. It was EARLY. Non-invasive. Treatable. From there, those drizzled tears were tucked away.

Responsibilities took precedence. I still had to do my job as a counsellor. Being a Mom took top priority. I am their lifeline. Their leader. Their rock solid Momma. Always. Other life events were happening...... celebratory ones that were more meaningful. I was in a place of suspension going through the motions, but rarely breaking down. However, the week between hearing the original news to meeting with my surgeon was a see-saw blur of holding it together and crumpling in a heap.

I didn't want to tell many people until I had more news....... more information. But, the people I did share it with were so lovingly supportive. They still are. Now, even more. Offering to come stay at the house, to look after us, to drive me to treatments, to help winterize the house, to make bread, scrub floors, drive kids, sit with me...... anything! just ask, they have ALL stated. Community of friends and family. WOW.

Blessings and offerings.......

Life altering lessons in a place of discomfort.

Love, compassion, empathy, action! This is what matters......

Joy and woe are woven fine...... hope lifts up from the dredges of woe. Not from joy. Woe is where hope is conceived.

Human touch, shared tears, held and rocked....... encouragement and reminders.....

Heart to heart conversations revealed themselves in such a timely manner that it couldn't have been anything but the Grace of God.

Mysterious ways, God reveals Grace. Someone should talk to Him about his humour. I mean REALLY!

_________________

I had a dream the morning I met with the Surgeon that miraculously transformed the panic that was devouring me into lightness. Calm, clear headed uplifting lightness. I still quite believe it. I dreamt of a gathering. I dreamt of a surprise encounter. I dreamt about deep conversations with people I seemed to know well. As I awoke from this dream, I heard the "ME" in the dream say......... "We have no control of some things in our lives. We have to let the universe look after us....."

Hope had gestated. Hope was growing like a gorgeous weed inside me, nourished by early morning light. I felt a calm I hadn't experienced in months, much less the previous month of mammograms and a biopsy. Solid. Strong. Focused. Reconciled. My dream left me in a place of personal reconciliation. I was dumbfounded by the change in how I was looking at this mid-life event. But I went with the feeling. I let the calm feeling soothe me like a balm. I lte it lead me. From that moment on. It was in that frame of mind I met with the Surgeon.

Can you know right away that you're able to surrender your trust completely to someone you've just met? Yes. It happened as soon as this dynamic woman with energy and intelligence galore came bounding into the room and announced "You're the reason why we want every woman to have a diagnostic mammogram! You're the poster girl! Your breast cancer? It's stage 0! Its so tiny........... let me show you a diagram."

From there, the conversation went into detail. She described the gameplan. She told me that scar may not be pretty, but who cares, she says. Yeah, who cares? She told me I would need radiation. That's the routine. No matter how small the cancer area is. I'm alright with that.

It will be difficult and I have to travel to another city every day for four weeks right through the Christmas season, but my friends and family will escort me there and back. We will sing Caroles. We will share secrets. We will listen to good music and sip hot tea. We will drive through snow and maybe even stay in Saint John some nights and talk late into the night. About stuff that matters. We will let go of our assumptions. Together. On these drives. AND we will laugh at the absurdities, and the stories we share.

_______________________________

Blessings and offerings........... my little universe is truly looking after me. I am surrounded by love, near and far. LOVE!

Stage 0! Who the hell has ever heard of that? Is this a gift in disguise? yes.

Originally, I was sent for a diagnostic mammogram for no apparent reason? Based on my Doctor's intuition? The cancer would not have been detected until it had grown way beyond its minute boundaries if it hadn't been for me continually meeting with my Doctor while I was at the worst of my marriage grief.

Stage 0 is where I'm at. I'm the poster girl for getting the old floppy boobies squished in those damn picture machines. I wonder if I can put that on my resume?

My surgery is on Wednesday October 26th at 10 am AST. 9:00 am EST. From there, I heal. From there, the universe will be all around me......... as will caring people, spirit companions until the treatment and intervention is complete.

Can I leave you dear bloggie reader and friend with one request? Will you share a little of your light on me Wednesday morning? I'd really like to feel all that warmth. No worries. No negative thoughts. No talk of survivor. I'm NOT looking at this as a combat battle in the trenches. I'm looking at it as a LOVE bombardment, and I need your help sending out that energy! Because when it comes right down to it, nothing soothes any beast better than open hearted LOVE. THAT's what matters.

Time for bed.............. dreams matter too.

Charles Leblanc continues to shake, rattle and roll all over this province!

2011-09-17T21:16:00.004-03:00

I call him "CrazyMan Blogger" because he's outrageous. He calls me "The Irving Blogger" because its ironic. And, well, for a short stint, I published a blog on their media website thinking this was a good thing. And, he's never let me forget it. Like I had paid off the devil or something.

When God made Charles, he threw away the mold. Thank God he is in my life, this man who is who he is........ one of the most intelligent, politically astute, emotionally driven crazyman I have ever met. He's the Jerry Lee Lewis of blogging! Shake Rattle and Roll!

Most days, he checks on me through a chat pop up on facebook .......... Sometimes we swap quick opinions, juicy news, clips of stories, maybe even an email or two. And every now and then, we have a chance to catch up live and in person. But by then, so many stories, personal experiences, events have flowed under that darn Westmorland Street bridge that its almost impossible to get to a point in the conversation when there's nothing left to catch up on. Our discussions have no ending......... it just continues where we left off after we've hugged and said our goodbyes.

Charles Leblanc is a constant in my life. A good friend. Someone who cares and someone I care about deeply. It's a mutual respect thing........ but goes deeper than that. I think we get one another. Two misfits who see the world through similar eyes............ well, at least the political swirly world. And the man cracks me up!!!! Sure we are very different. Our upbringing couldn't be more opposite. Even now from a surface perspective, our lives appear to be very different. But, we have much in common that allows us to connect cognitvely, emotionally and spiritually at a comfort level that I don't share with many others. We have shared the vulnerable stories that make up our spirits, as well as the piss and vinegar side of our selves. How many people can you say that about in your life??

The majority of what we discuss never ever makes it to either one of our blogs. Blogger secrets!!! I know he's shared stuff with me that will allow me to go to my grave laughing. I have done the same! I love it when I can share something with Charles he hasn't heard yet. That is a feat in itself because the man is EVERYWHERE and knows the dirt on most people in this whole freaking province!

My God, the man is wired into the pulse of this place and it scares many! However, people knock on his apartment window night and day to find out the dirt, and to share some dirt. Dirt swapping. It's good journalism, because MOST of the dirt is news. Sadly, this province's media is predominantly tied up with one family. The Irvings. Charles, "Crazyman Blogger" has a love/hate relationship with them that is healthy, wealthy (for them) and wise (for both). He has the same relationships with paid journalists too. They know where to go to seek out some facts. Fiction too. 'Cause sometimes he has facts that go beyond the realm of what really happened. This isn't a surprise given that so many people are in touch with him. But, I got to say, the majority of information Charles acquires is the honest to God truth.

Some of it is heartbreaking. Some of it is butt slapping hilarious. A lot of it is eye popping. Can I just say it's a breath of FRESH air to talk to someone who is the salt of the earth and who sees it in the others around him and writes about it? He also sees the pontificating phonies too and they know it. That's a threat eh?

So, why am I writing about my friend tonight? Well, he's had a momentous week. He spent 70 hours behind bars (without his medication btw!) for going TOO far with his megaphone antics in front of the Fredericton police station. Drove everyone batty! Created havoc in the boardrooms within listening distance. Irritated the throngs of folks who work in the area barking out his mantra about being treated differently than others. All over a ticket for riding his bike on the sidewalk. They arrested him for disturbing the peace. Hello? He's been disturbing, shaking, challenging and rattling the peace all his life. And good on him! More people should be like Charles. But then, he wouldn't be as unique, as effective if others were like him.

Charles is one smart fella! Never one to keep his opinions, nor his feelings on a matter to himself, he lives above the radar. Can you imagine always living above the radar? But, that's where he has chosen to remain. What an advocate he is too! Think about how many stories have been revealed by this man, many of which would never have made the light of day.

For the past couple of days, this "place of honour" has foisted him into the "first news item" time slot in the media. Good God, he even usurped the Harvest Jazz and Blues headlines by becoming the top headline in the local Irving paper. People are talking either about the headliners at Harvest OR about Monsieur Leblanc. It's a hilarious combination.......... I heard both discussed at the Market today, and on the radio this week. Ironic given that he normally skips town when the Harvest takes over his downtown. You gotta laugh at that one Charles!

As much as he was probably striving for this attention, it is still stressful. and I don't think he ever thought he'd end up in JAIL! But, believe me there are more folks out there who admire and appreciate Charles' work as a journalist blogger than the folks who find his antics beyond the realm of acceptable. But, he has a point too.

His choice of driving everyone batty on the police station end of Queen Street in this anal retentive conservative city of stately elms may not be "acceptable" to the folks who have to sit in boardrooms in strategic planning sessions. Loud speaker phones are comparable to screeching brakes on a transport going downhill. But, because he has chosen to live above the radar actively documenting the political, personal, and community based events in this part of the world, Charles is now treated differently than others. He's a marked man. He's pissed people off. He's created a power struggle and by doing so has exposed the hierarchical hypocrisy of our system.

Who else gets a ticket for riding a bike on a sidewalk for God's sakes?? Unjust. Simple.

No, I am not seeing him through rose tinted glasses. I see his real-ness because he has shown that to me. I am well aware of his previous shit disturbing, most recently his over the top ADHD/OCD sandwich board messages during the last election. He made the local MLA sitting member's life miserable! And he lost too! I probably would have been irritated if I had to work in the area while this madman was barking out his mantra over a speaker phone. (who the hell gave him that piece of equipment anyways???) However, I believe it could've been handled very differently than it was. Like everyone on this planet...... Like Charles does himself for others......... he wanted to be listened to. Why wasn't someone listening to him instead of simply dismissing his message as noise? He HAS been treated differently than others.

I call him "CrazyMan Blogger" because he's outrageous. He calls me "The Irving Blogger" because its ironic. More importantly, we call each other friends. Will someone please listen to this human being? Drop the charges and lets all move on before it becomes even more ridiculous than it already is!

ps.......Charles? Thank God for you. Yes, you are a marked person and you've known it for a long time. You've chosen a life of shaking, rattling and rolling. But, that doesn't mean that anyone can treat you any differently than someone else. You always have my support and I hope you will always know that. The gift you gave me when I needed it the most? I will never forget it. Neither will dozens of others who have experienced the hurting side of life and found you by their side walking a mile or two with them as they struggled to find their footing again. You sir, will find your footing again. Keep on walkin'! Keep on talkin'!

prayers, pauses and gratitude.

2011-09-14T00:57:00.000-03:00

lovely Lisa, Boyce Market, sept, 2011

I think this has been one of the most emotionally draining couple of days I've experienced in a long time. Is there such a thing as an emotional perfect storm? Yes, and I truly thought I was losing any semblance of internal order. Waves crashed over the riptides in my soul and I simply couldn't get a grip on the steering. Many hours were spent in horizontal meditation, aka my girl cave, as I tried to process the multi-sensory onslaught of encounters, events, activities, confessions, tragedies, and realities. I think I scared the shit out of my friends and my kids. I know I scared the shit out of me!

One of the more difficult lessons I keep plugging away at in an attempt to LEARN should be entitled "Balance and Limitations." I used to be good at that, but finding these two teasers as a single Mom working full-time with a personal life that is full, "balance and limitations" ALONG with "bounding boundaries" keep slipping out of my hands...... leaving me bobbing in the rolling waves!!!

I get these burst of energy, especially at this time of the year, and take on too much. It used to be that I could juggle several projects/tasks etc at the same time, but I had the back up and support from a life partner to keep the home fires burning so to speak. Now, I'm on my own to do both and let me tell you, my house wouldn't win any awards right now! Hurricane Hazel seems to have blasted through the hallways and rooms! Always stuff to do on that to do list....... and I lose energy by the end of a busy day/week to even attempt to get some order.

Don't you find sometimes that internal order is help tremendously when the home surroundings are in order? Routine can be a re-fueler. A grounding. A place to start. Im a stumbling bumbler when it comes to maintaining a routine these days........ it'll happen. Seasonal transitions shake it up a bit!

Aside from the necessary mundane tasks that have to be accomplished, as well as the nagging other "fixes" that must be attended to (can someone please fix my shower faucet? the duct tape is looking pretty redneck) there are many homefront responsibilities that take a back seat when all the energy I have burst through during my day job. this is what happened on the weekend. Add the emotional highs and lows of counselling anyways, and the very real needs of my little brood at they adjust to big changes in their lives..... add the anxiety of paying bills etc, AND my emotional response to the anniversary of 9-11? Well, a perfect storm hit my innards.

Ok, hormones too! Yeah, 50+ years old. Hormones play a role! I admit it.

I went quietly into the horizontal meditative position and let a day linger on by while I re-fueled on soft chanting music, and the breeze of the fan in my room. I let the emotions visit, linger and then move on. I remained as quiet as I could be in a self made cocoon. In my head, as it cleared, this prayer was formed. I had the honour to deliver it on Sunday......... the day of my birth. And the 10 anniversary of September 11, 2001. By the time I found myself comfortably standing at the pulpit of the church looking at the congregation which included my children and a few very special friends in my life, my stance was solid. My focus was clear. My heart was open.......... My pace was found.

Prayer, pauses and gratitude....... Here is the prayer I offered...........

sunrise from my back deck, Sept 8, 2011

Good morning God.

Thank you for this blessed beautiful morning in the Saint John River valley. Thank you for surrounding us with those seasonal signs of change that help us to recognize our own transformations and to realize we are never alone in this journey.

As we gather here before You with the renewed breath of Your Spirit, we give our heartfelt thanks for the bountiful gifts You provide with abundance every single day. Allow us to hear the encouraging words from a friend. Help us inhale the lingering aroma of summer breezes. Let us remember the people who have been touched so deeply by the events on September 11, 2001. Guide us to connect our hearts to their hearts and to our loved ones who live far away. God, help us look deeply into the eyes of another with the understanding we are all one at heart.

We are all loved.

Please help us remember that overwhelming feelings today will soften in the light of days to come.

As pilgrims dear God, guide us to share a story with another, to have that conversation that feels too difficult to start, to use the gift of our senses so that we can appreciate the freshness of this harvest season, to delight in the knowledge that we are unfinished human beings, beautiful works in progress, who know how to give and receive love and kindness with an open heart.

May we leave here today with a lighter fullness in our walk, refreshed breath of the Holy Spirit and the energy to pass our kindness onto to others. Thank you for Your presence in all that we do, say, think and feel.

Amen.

vestiges of summer.......

2011-09-09T22:11:00.002-03:00

Creeping vines and weeping willows.

Even if I'm not on vacation, I find summer has an elastic sense of time and structure. Routine takes a skinny dip. Glorious starry nights free up my thinking beyond known borders. Shared car trips become the touchpoints of growth in my relationships. Celebrations, concerts, bonfires, BarBQ's, reunions, campouts, late night laid back dinners on the back deck with a friend, risking my heart in the dating game, tempered by moments of quiet contemplation, or plain old loneliness and complicated misunderstandings as the signposts of life lived.

What happened to canoeing?? I never got out in a canoe this summer!!! Where did the time go??

Summer has a pulse of its own that stretches afternoons into the lingering lament of twilight beauty. Darn it! I didn't capture much of it in writing. So, now I am left standing here at the counter in my kitchen pounding on my trusty little laptop keys overwhelmed by the numerous vestiges that define my summertime with such colourful and visual acuity. It feels like I've walked a thousand and one miles. On the other hand, it feels like I havent moved an inch! How can that be? Internal growing pains take time to settle. That's what winter is for! A time to ruminate on the green fields of summertime blossoming.

Of course, I've journied on....... my life is more full by the connections and the new roads I have travelled. Some with others. Some on my own....one sandaled foot after another. Healing continues as I gather new courage, clearer insights, confidance. As I take time to melt into it. From Grand Manan New Brunswick to the Gaspe pennisula in Quebec where I fell in love with the raw beauty of our Canadian landscape, to Times Square NYC!! Stops in Spencer's Island Nova Scotia where my heart still longs to belong to a wondrous weekend retreat just outside of St. Andrews where the fireflies flickered the ultimate freedom dance that left me with new insights. To my own backyard sipping wine and sharing secrets with a friend. Big shifts!!! Wow.

One astounding night happened at the end of July. While happily standing in a crowd of people, I opened my pores to receive a multisensory assault to the body and soul. U2 came to town. I hope Bono didn't mind me belting out "I Still Havent Found What I'm Looking For......." as tears flowed and caught in the throat of my vulnerable spirit. My son and friends all around me..... all ages. All ages...... spiritually enhanced. Together. I only wish that my daughter could've been there with us. But, she was immersed in her own journey at camp learning big lessons....... stretching her talents into new awareness.

Hurts too. Sad eye days. This summer has introduced new and re-introduced older painful thorns along with the blossoming roses. Changes in people I love. Sad changes in relationships. Aging. Relating. Mismatches of thinking. Poor communication. Misfires. Bad timing. New realities that are so hard to swallow. To accept. Someone whom I admire deeply said that much of life is griefwork because changes mean we must look at letting go of the losses before we can move forward. It is so tiring sometimes. Confusing too. Tears may bring strength, but before that happens, the fatigue is bone weary awful.

So, now it's Friday. The end of the first week back to school. Routine is mocking us! The buzz word around here? Overwhelming. My son began high school. My daughter is now at College. Big transitions in seasons and in milestones. Aside from my number one role as Mom, my work week was spent orchestrating Orientation activities for 200 students and counselling on the fly............ at home, at work, at play.

I never got away from it and I'm completely spent. I feel such a tremendous need for someone significant to be kind and loving to me. Unfortunately that isn't the case right now. As much as this was an amazing week of connections and deeply shared confessions and feelings that has left me feeling abundantly satisfied, I am struggling with loneliness and heartache. It sucks. Will I always be on my own? God knows. He ain't sharing that with me!

The best we can hope for in this crazy life is to be kind to one another...... to take the time to at least try to understand where another is coming from in their journey..... to invite these pilgrims in to your home and heart, and to hope that there will always be another to share our life altering little moments that make up our summers of wonder and growth. May we all find that passionate love someday soon. And if you're someone who is sharing your bed with your soulmate, may you recognize just how blessed you are.

Here's to turning the next seasonal corner.......... AND getting a good night's sleep!!! At least I won't have someone snoring or elbowing me in the ribs.

radical beauty

2011-09-09T20:27:00.000-03:00

Bonavista Island, Perce Quebec

Our lives are comprised of opportunities to view both internally and externally moments of recognizing beauty. The presence of radical beauty, however, is an awakening so forceful it leaves you bewildered by its balm. Electrified by its energy. Held by loving hands. Kissed by bliss. Left naked in a place that straddles fear and courage. The choice is ours which way we eventually lean after its vital spirit moves on.........

Radical beauty is a bulls-eye to the heart and soul comprised of a wild surge of feelings. It's like standing under a cascading waterfall drenched by its arrival. When we encounter one of these trembling moments, we are knocked us off balance by its surprising force.

Radical beauty quickly strips away the sludgey complications of a stress filled life and leaves a twinkling smiling desire. Raw vulnerability transforms into naked grace. Confident love. In the now. Poignantly more intense when it happens when our vulnerable hearts need massaging. It grabs hold of our attention, and shapes our focus. Regular ticking time alters its distance. Breathing happens without our awareness.

These sacred moments in our ordinary lives are difficult to describe with the words we have. Its a spiritual voyage beyond meaning-full words. If we're blessed to share this intimately with another? When we are given the gift of seeing our own beauty reflected in the eyes of another, it can literally take away breath. Alter our lives. Radical beauty fills our pores with love and belonging. It tickles the temples of compassion as well as the protective pulse of anxiety.

There is no denying it. As much as you may want to.

U2 concert, July 2011

pressed flowers and other revealing things

2011-08-19T03:52:00.004-03:00

These ones stayed..............

I lost count on the number of boxes I filled with books during one of the most humid nights of this summer. There were times when I hesitated.... caught by a memory of when one of them had been added to the shelves. A Christmas present...anniversary.....birthday gifts. The much coveted novel, enjoyed immensely. For the most part however, I was on a roll. With a glass of wine on hand, and my musical preferences to keep me company, I spent hours decluttering, cleaning and stacking the boxes for future retrieve.

My focus tumbled around 2:45 am. Not quite the witching hour. Almost.

I came face to face with a large reference tomb of a book . My resolve melted momentarily. It had nothing to do with the book itself. Rather, it was the pieces of paper towels sticking out of through the pages that caught my eye. Caught breath. Wavering balance. My initial reaction was to recoil like I had seen a water moccasin curled up on the bottom shelf hissing at me! It was just a book for goodness sake. How in the world can something so inanimate create such a visceral reaction? Well, try living in a house whose familial foundation was startled by thundering betrayal. There are little emotionally ticking trinkets mocking you for months afterwards. Bloody loud they can be!

As soon as I saw them, a realization hit me in the gut. Inside the creases of the paper towels were beautifully pressed flowers. Pansies, daisies, forget me knots I had picked from our first house and placed in the book many years ago to dry. My intentions back then were to use them to decorate candles or note paper.

But, then I got busy. The craft project was forgotten. The flowers were abandoned.

Two children to raise.

A career that kept me busy.

A home to run.

A marriage to....................?

I took a bit of time to look at the flowers laying open on paper. My hands open to hold them. I took in their delicate beauty. I remembered where I had picked them...out of the garden of our first house. I cried a little. Not enough moisture to bring them back to life.....just enough to moisten my cheeks. Then, I tossed them into the trash.

I've tossed a lot of stuff along with rearranging pictures and painting walls. Enlightening....... and lightening. Everytime I've reached that place when I could let go of "the stuff" my whole body feels like it is somehow defying gravity for a thin air second.

To get to this head space, I have worked hard taking one step at a time. There are some who feel that I should be farther along the path. How do I know this? I hear it. Then, there are some who comment on how well I'm doing. I hear this too. Who the hell knows..... except me. I am where I am....... More importantly, I am fine with where I am. Right here. Living. Moving forward at my own pace. If there is anything I can control, its my own pace and my own readiness to tackle yet another piece of the "letting go" puzzle. Those overcrowding yakety yak books were my chosen target the other night. When the urge hits, you've got to move into that headspace and go to it even if it takes all night long..... which it did.

I put the kettle on as the sun raised it's orange eyebrow over the river horizon. The boxes of dusty books were stacked high in my kitchen along with a few holding memories of past gift giving days. My shelves had been scrubbed down with lemon scented cleaner. More minimalist, they were reborn with the novels and reference books that were mine and the kids as well as a few bright coloured clay vases, a couple of woven baskets, a few framed photos.... I swear I heard the white painted wood heave a sigh of relief as I stretched out my own muscles while realizing for the first time how tired I was.

Content too. I hadn't felt that broad contentment in a long time......

The sun rose into the peace of a hazy summer morning, accompanied by the choir of birdsong that always makes me feel happily connected with the ground my barefeet touch. At that moment, I felt alone, but not lonely. All of those sense of accomplishment emotions were lightly stirring the remnants of my energy. Gladness. Wing fluttering gladness kissed by the sweetness of honey nectar. It was a moment this summer that I will never forget because even though it seems like just another chore found on a "to do" list, it was so much more than that.

A few of the people in my life who have walked with me knew what I had been up to that night. I can honestly say that their spirit tapped me from time to time and kept me moving forward. I was always in good hands. When it was late enough in the morning, I phoned one of them........ in a tired but satisfied voice, I announced that my latest decluttering mission was accomplished.

Full of encouragement that only comes with understanding he invited me over to his place where there was a cool bed in an air conditioned room......... away from the rest of the familiar world. I took him up on his offer, and as he went about his own chores, tackling his to do list, I slept more soundly than I had in months, lullabied by the constant whir of cool cool air, while being checked on from time to time by the caring eyes of a dear friend. His kindness I will always hold onto.

A month later, when I walk into my living room (which will in itself be transformed very soon) I can feel the refreshened difference. This particular weight is gone. All it took was to reveal the flowers caught in the spine of a book to let go of years of dusty words. When the time was right. It is that simple. You just gotta be ready on your own terms.....

ps. You know, the last time I had pulled an all-nighter before this task filled adventure sure had a different reason for it! And it had nothing to do with chores!!!! hahaha! gotta have another one of those types soon too! :)

it's been too long......

2011-08-18T00:22:00.001-03:00

"The Mystery never leaves you alone.
Behind your image,
below your words,
above your thoughts,
the silence of another world waits.
A world lives within you."
John O'Donohue

Hi. It's been way too long. How have you been?

I've been out in the world looking around, absorbing landscapes, seascapes, peoplescapes. I've also spent quite a bit of time visiting a very different world inside me...... different than the one I can see with my outside eyes.... very different than the one I saw this time last year with my inside eyes.

For the first time in 6 years, none of my sauntering sojourn was captured in words published on this blog. My writing flow slowed right down to leaky faucet drops. I have about 50 half written pieces sitting in my blog drafts. I'd make attempts to turn on the tap, but the well seemed to dry out very quickly. At first it stunned me.... made me jittery uncomfortable. Alone. Afraid that writing was just a phase.

Settling into that comfort zone where the pictures and prose magically danced inside my head no longer was an option I could turn to. It felt like I had said all that I wanted to......... all I needed to and that anything more was just going to be a repeat. Topics would float happily through my thought process and dance their way right down the drain along with my attention. Along with my interest. It was a mystery. Until one day........ my inner voice nudged me into another direction. The fear of never writing again left me once I listened to that voice..... and followed it's advice.

I began to revisit the pieces I had posted here over the course of the past two years. It was time. Time to assess it, absorb it, criticize it, enjoy it. It was time to read rather than write. My energy had altered. I began peering into the world within captured during a time in my life comparable to a field of fireworks unpredictably exploding in a multitude of loud bangs, streams of teary sparklights tumbling down and bright flashes of expressive colour!

Healing, taking risks, learning to cope while growing as "a work in progress" human being, along with the sunrise of new perspectives were the gifts that fed my courage to look at what I had created. The place "behind your image, below your words...." is where truthfulness of revealed reflections dwells. You can't "go there" until you're ready.

It was so interesting when the little bell tingled to inform me that for some reason I WAS ready to tackle the review because it felt like it had come out of the blue. I began by culling through the myriad of posts, turning them into documents so I could have a printed copy in my hands. Without a true plan in place, I started filtering through the pieces, wondering where these written words of mine would take me and where the heck they all came from!!!

At the same time, also out of the blue, I was offered a little cottage to use at my leisure. I couldn't believe it! For a year or so, I've been openly expressing that I would love to have a place to go that was quiet to write without interuptions or responsibilities. When the offer came from a new friend I have met this past year through attending church and getting involved in some community work, I knew instantly that this unbelievable gift was no coincidence. It was a prayer answered. I'm convinced of it. And so, my reading began on a porch that overlooked a wild grassy field and the mouth of a beautiful river in the silence I had longed for.

Cricket silence. Yes.

After the sun set with spectacular glory, I continued to sit until the stars gathered and the fireflies glitter-danced just above the darkened field. It was then that the poetic pictures in my head returned. It was then that a thematic structure appeared to me that my separate writing pieces could naturally fall into a collective meaning. I had the found the golden thread to weave with.

To everything there is a season.........

Many of the pieces that I think are worth tweaking and sculpting were much more revealing and personally raw than I realized as I was writing and posting. Some of it was quite tough to read.... to acknowledge that even the poetry and stories I had thought I had created as fiction from my imagination were littered with bits of me. Gut kicking loud. Reassuring too.... because it has shown me just how much I've learned....how far I've travelled.

As I read, I realized that writing was my saving grace...... my breath, my crutch, my teacher, my therapist. My trusty loving companion that never rejected nor unloved me. It still is. I wouldn't be as whole now (with a variety of life kicking nicks visible both on and under the surface of my skin) if I hadn't been churning it out day after day for 6 years. Thank God.

This part of the process continues in a pace slower than I would have predicted. Silent in between time is needed to creatively digest. That little voice informs me with the same little knock when its time to put the folder of raw writing aside and focus on outer landscape trips. I've been on quite a few of those this summer to.

Today, I visited my blog in search of a link to a John O'Donohue talk I thought I had posted a couple of years ago. I never did find it, but I did find a few quotes and gems from him. While I was skipping through this online place of mine, I felt a strange sense of maternal coziness I had missed. I knew I had been gone from here too long.... it was time to begin and end a piece..... it was time to click on publish again to connect with YOU.

Hi. It's been way too long..... How have you been?

blindness

2011-07-06T00:13:00.001-03:00

Storm, Edvard Munsch, photo of the Original at MOMA,

If you look straight into the middle of the sun, you're left with dark spots floating before your eyes. Too much light is blinding. Temporarily. Too much reality is blinding as well. Temporarily. Both shock your system leaving a sense of discomfort you want to flee. What happens to your body if the shocking light stays on and on and on?

Panic
Palpitating heartbeats
Racing thoughts
Shallow breaths
Electric impulses
Sensory overload
Rushing adrenaline........over and over and over......
Anxiety.
If you walk into a theatre after the lights have been turned off.....just before the movie is about to begin, your hands automatically go up in front of you as your grope around for something solid to grasp onto. Darkness disables our sight. Temporarily. "Coping" with our own reality, by repressing, supressing or pushing it off into a recessed corner disables our sight as well. Temporarily. What happens if you continue to live in the absence of light?
Panic
Palpitating heartbeats
Racing thoughts
Shallow breaths
Sensory overload
Anxiety time and again...
Numbness, numbness......dulling the pain......
Depression.

We try to do everything in our power to avoid the extremes.....those deer caught in the headlight moments and those dank dark tunnel times.....especially if they lurk too often. They make us feel completely discombobulated....incapable and weak. Survival mode kicks in and we put up the shell of self absorption, or try to turn our attention on someone else possibly even overreacting to their drama because its a place to put our own anxieties. We turn into helpers, rescuers, lifesavers....or this is how we see ourselves. Others may see it very differently.

Quite often, because we are so determined to avoid our own house of horrors, we overdo our "helping" and get in the way of someone else's growth and learning. I have been guilty of this. Because of some circumstances where I have tried to "help" or to "rescue," I have neglected my own shadowy demons to a point where I realized the light was TOO bright and I completely backed away. Another time that comes to mind as I write this, I pushed too hard to help and drove the person away. I think its called smothering.....or perhaps "s'mothering" is more apt! Not that I did it out of anything but kindness....but I did it for the wrong reasons....to avoid my own shadows. Not good for either side of the equation. It wore me out rather than energized me and it impacted a friendship.

There are times when I wish I had a magic wand to take away someone else's pain. I wish I had a magic wand to take away my own when it comes to visit. But, I don't. No one does. Pain, which is the offshoot of anxiety and depression, gets a very bad rap. It HURTS! But, it is also a necessity for survival and for personal growth. It is essential and according to Paul Brand is "the gift nobody wants." When we FEEL pain, whether its physical or emotional....whether its a great big dark crevasse spiritually.... we must learn to recognize it for what it is.... a beacon, a signal in need of attention.

We never have to go it alone, though it is an option offered to us. Isolation rarely heals because of its massive potential for internal cyclical ruminations which eventually leads to a sense of believing there is no exit from the darkened theatre. But, being rescued is no better as it never allows for new learning from the experience... (and can I just add here that this is THE worst thing a parent can do for their child is to continue to rescue them..... how the heck will they ever learn to personally deal with life???).

Too much light....not enough light......signals we are in crisis. The very best thing you could do for me and the very best thing I could do for you? NOT to go into rescue mode...not to take on someone else's suffering...... Just to quietly sit beside one another right in the middle of the mess. Tough to do, to sit in someone else's suffering, or to allow someone else into your own, but if we can't do that as human beings for one another, then we've completely missed the point of why we are here on this planet taking part in God's creation of humanity aren't we??? This is compassion. Sitting in the suffering.

Interestingly, temporary blindness has the capacity to lead to new sight...."insight..."

So how do we get there? How do seek out that beacon, where the light is just right?? How do we adjust the light so it isn't so darn blinding?? All it takes to make this happen is for one of us to utter three very important words...to a friend, a doctor, a minister, a psychologist, a psychiatrist, a stranger .... someone you can trust....

"Please help me....."

Why is it that we choke on these words so often? Why do we dredge the suffering on by denying we need help? I think it has to do with internal readiness to allow another to see your flaws. May we strive to understand that transformation is a life long pursuit fraught with difficult personal admissions. May we accept the wisdom of Father O'Donohue's words... that beauty derives from the "slow work of integrating the flaw..." The worst thing we can do is abandon our nasty bits. However, sometimes it takes a long time to acknowledge then to let light in to flood our flaws with kind goodness.

Her spirit will continue to teach us good lessons.....

2011-06-17T23:09:00.004-03:00

Betty Fox died today. Her spirit was as strong as her son Terry's. Her drive just as fierce. Foisted into the spotlight when Terry's Marathon of Hope gained national attention and enthusiastic support, Betty and the rest of the family supported his dream. When Terry had to stop his run because his cancer had returned with a vengence and died not so long after he was airlifted home, the family rallied the rest of the country to embrace the dream of raising money for cancer research.

Betty took the reins of her son's dream. 30 years later, after touring the country and taking his message beyond our borders, after starting the Terry Fox run which happens every September in most communities from east to west, Betty Fox raised hundreds of millions of dollars. On her son's behalf.

Anything I've read about her, she was described as a feisty shoot-from-the-hip woman. Emotional too. I liked that about her. She was not afraid of letting the tears fall when she spoke of her son to a classroom full of kids, or to a boardroom full of suits. The Foundation that became the backbone of the tremendously successful fundraising was her venue. Her determination to ensure the Fox family retained control of the direction and mission of it is well known. She knew what she wanted........ to keep Terry's spirit, and his dream of eradicating cancer moving forward. With integrity. With very specific parameters on what the Foundation supported. She was a hands-on hard working dedicated Mother who adopted her son's dream with her whole heart and soul. The acorn didn't fall too far from the maternal tree.

I never met Betty Fox, though it never sounded like it would be a difficult thing to do. The woman was everywhere promoting the Terry Fox runs and the other fundraising events. But, I honestly felt like I knew her. We all did. When she walked onto the Opening Ceremonies stage at the Vancouver Olympics carrying the corner of the Olympic flag along with a wonderfully eclectic group of distinguished Canucks, it was simply joyful. She looked marvellous.... her famous white hair, her big smile, her natural-ness shone through to all that watched the ceremonies. I think it was the last time I saw her in the media until recently when they announced that she was very ill.

This woman deserves unbridled recognition. Her own spirit represents the intensity of love and devotion all parents feel for their children. The success of the Terry Fox foundation belongs to her unrelenting efforts. It was her lifework, when she decided 30 years ago to turn her grief into productive energy. We all know, however, she would've traded it all for the gift of having her son alive and well and by her side. Of course.

Like Terry, Betty will continue to be a role model for every Canadian. She shared herself and her family with the rest of us. By so doing, her presence on the landscape and her generosity transformed our individual pursuits. Never give up. Do what is right. Find that cure. Live and love fully.

So, how can a nation honour her with the respect she has earned a thousand times over? What gift can we give? Formal recognition on Parliament Hill is a start. Important too. But given her earthy unpretentious nature, what is needed it our embrace of Betty's lifework. It is up to us to take it on....... to ensure that the good fight continues, to keep the internal flame of her spirit lit. And since we all have felt like she was a friend of us all......... this will come naturally. Just like the love of our children.

May she know peace without mourning. God bless her.

Betty and Rolly Fox carrying the torch during the Paralympic Games.

oh, the places you go.................

2011-06-13T00:40:00.003-03:00

this morning's sunrise from my back deck....

It was only last Thursday when I didn't think I had a darn thing interesting planned for the weekend. Feeling a little sorry for myself, I even whined about it. But, like most of life, if you open up to whatever comes you way, and if you put yourself out there a little bit.............even a tiny bit, there's always a good chance opportunity comes knocking. From the least expected places.

The thing about opportunity is that it often sneaks up on you. It rarely knocks because more times than not, it can't find the front door. Instead, opportunity resorts to sending a flare, a smoke signal, a firefly sizzle of a light in front of darkness. If you have your head down going about your serious business, working and slogging away, you may miss the tap on the shoulder or the wink from the Cosmos from that sassy opportunity all dressed for an occasion.

Like a relay race..... if you're running the second lap, you can't be daydreaming about some far away landscape when the breathless runner is about to pass the golden baton to you. You've gotta be paying attention. Full frontal focus. Zippity open to opportunity when it shows, or glows or flows.........

What I find odd about a jumble of days without a gameplan that ends up becoming full of encounters, connections, good deep conversations, sunshine and shifts in thinking from new ideas? It takes a bit to process afterward. When you reflect on the separate activities, they are meaningfully affirming on their own. THEN, when you take the escalator up to give yourself a chance to see all around you......... to see the collection altogether, you can glean various themes, shared characteristics that heighten the belief in serendipity. Similar topics discussed. Similar paths shared. Agreed upon understanding of what is important in life....... Big picture awareness.

So, I took that escalator up above and what did I see? Well, this weekend's theme can be summed up with one word: Recovery.

Not quite ready. In the throes of it. Take a break from it. Not knowing what to do with it, or how to go about it.

Recovery.

Learning how to embrace the vulnerability of it. Learning that the pain before it was far worse than choosing life altering avenues. Learning how to admit to a Higher Power. Learning that one needs to heal.

To recover.

A young man making the transition from a cloistered life wrought with social anxiety to an enrolled student in the fall.
A middle aged woman who has found true love after many hardships and soul bruises is about to embark on a new shared life.
A friend who is close to inhaling freedom.... the necessary ingredient in reclaiming her healing and wholeness
A family living far away from loved ones and support who have had MORE than their share of major life upheavals in the course of two months..... from heartbreak to serious illnesses, to losing their Mom/Grandma..... recovery will take time as they focus on the small blessings in the world around them....
Close friends temporarily living in Christchurch New Zealand near the last quake epicentre... surrounded by resilience and recovery missions. Amazed by the support they've received, but still quite emotionally startled by their experience.
A new friend who through a moment of heart stopping grace saw the flint spark of light and has now fully embraced his own recovery by recognizing his authenticity comes from God

Me. I fit here too. So do you. We all do. Recovery is lifework.

Whether its from an addiction or a deep gash from mourning, it causes us to be shook up enough to be emptied. Temporarily. Recovery is what we attempt when we encounter those negative forces beyond our control, but shake us to our core..... WHEN we are ready, we seek out help. We admit, and then begin to heal by learning how to let go of pride, debilitating fear, and rationalizations. We begin to heal when we stop fighting against reality. Against truth. Then we allow truth, honesty and vulnerability to be the balm on the wounds....... Painful wounds.

What amazes me everytime I am given this opportunity to delve into the machinations of recovery, and to share the stories that peel the layers of defensive boundaries away, I realize again how it takes complete and utter emptiness to re-fuel our souls with a new energy. When there is nothing left in the tank, you can't go anywhere except down on your knees, with no skin left to protect. From that vantage point....... down in the holy well of tears, a crack forms......... that's always where the light gets in. And it the light, however dim, that reveals opportunity.

May we have the strength and the supports to grab hold of the opportunity to recover. More importantly, may we garner the spirit of courage to grow beyond our wildest dreams into a place of forgiveness of ourselves and others.

What an amazing weekend. My life is far more enriched because of all of the encounters and experiences shared with me.

ps. My good friends living in NZ just experienced another day of earthquakes. They are fine..... the recovery continues.......

the beauty of resilience.....

2011-06-05T12:54:00.001-03:00

The other day while at the College, I was standing just outside a classroom quietly talking with a colleague just around the time the students took a break. (I wonder why we don't call it recess at the College?) A 25-ish year old student opened the door and stepped out right in front of me. She was wearing a low cut tank top and jeans. Peaking out of her top were two elaborately designed tatoos of hummingbirds. In flight. Larger than life. They looked like they were escaping from her breasts.

Before I could stop myself and gather my sense of decorum, I exclaimed..... "Wow! I love your hummingbirds! Those little birds fascinate me!"

Luckily no one around me seemed to consider this a gaff and the student was thrilled that her "birds" were acknowledged. My enthusiastic outburst led to hearing the story behind her choice of tattoo. She came to life. Big smiley bright eyes! Pleasantly surprised that I had even noticed. I mean, how could one not notice?? The woman has brightly coloured hummingbirds flying out of her breasts and no one comments?

Her choice of personal skin-art was a tribute to her Dad who had passed away. He had a backyard full of hummingbird feeders that lured the little beings to his home every summer. He loved their vitality. So does his daughter.

Serendipitously, I have been a bit obsessed with these tiny creatures of late because I have a few hummingbirds who have made my backyard their home this summer too. During times when I've found a few moments to take a relaxing breath over a morning cup of tea, or an end of the workday sigh, I have watched them with fascination and tried to capture their life essence in a poem.

I find myself drawn to their energy as they flit and flummer, wings thrumming as fast as plane propellers, from one flower bloom to another seeking sweetness. Did you know that a hummingbird lives on the tipping edge of dying? Their full flight bursts exhaust their energy reserves so dramatically that they are constantly on the verge of starvation. It makes sense. They rarely stop! Their busyness and focused determination to fill up their reserves with sugary sustenance seems to defy this fact.

Hummingbirds exude excitable confidence. Inherently, they use their needle sharpe beaks to hone in on the blossom's soul where honeydrips await. I watched one hover around a purple lilac with such purpose and focus. His irridescent wings and purple and green sheen body never stopped. As it reached into every little bloom, I wondered if the little hummer felt like it had won the jackpot! One flower head. A thousand honey spots.

The other morning before it was time to head off to work, I sat on the side steps of my deck to enjoy my tea and the view of the river. The weather this spring has been so wet and gloomy that when the sun manages to push away the grey clouds, there is a stronger sense of hopeful joy in the moment than if we had been blessed with better weather.

Quiet and still..... grounded. That's how I felt as I took in the sights and sounds of nature all around me. There was a chorus of songbirds harmonizing, communicating, expressing their truimphs and their love desires. Beautiful sounds! As I listened, I let the breeze spirits seep through me skin to let it replace my tiredness. It felt like an awakening........a spa for the senses. Then, I saw him. This tiny speck of a being sitting right in the middle of the yellow clothesline in my neighbours backyard. One little hummer with the line all to himself. It was comical. He looked like a B-flat note from a music chart. One little note from a universal scoring.

He didn't sit perfectly still. Hummingbirds are hyperactive. But, for him, he was perched pretty darn quietly. His wings had stopped. Though he was too tiny to make his head do a "bob and weave" like you would describe if you were trying to capture the head movement in a larger species, he did make the same movement.... It was more of a tip and a flit as he scanned the yard like a Lord looking over his kingdom. Then, I heard his birdcall. He somehow managed to project his voice above the louder tweets. I heard him call out. I'm HERE!

It left me in awe....... It left me feeling as sense of kindredness with my backyard buddy. My life is so busy. For the most part I like it that way. There are days though when the activities are survival ones. Maybe not physically like the tiniest member of the bird family, but emotionally/spiritually. On the tipping edge. Then, I take a moment to sit on my rejuvenating steps to draw in the blessed goodness of my life.

We have the gift of nature to be our mentor. The life that unfolds with growth and determination all around us sends messages of importance life affirming learning. All we have to do is pay attention and relate.

The eagle teaches us to soar in freedom...... catching gust of wind under our own wings. The robin shares many lessons about how to build a home, to protect and provide. Mourning Doves live in love with their soulmates. And the hummingbird? He is the biggest gift of them all because he is the the mentor of resilience.

There is beauty in the song of resilience. No matter how ugly life can get we are all more beautiful because of our attempts at making it happen. The key is to take the time to savour the honeydrips and to keep at it!

Trust-Me Boulevard.

2011-06-02T23:12:00.000-03:00

thin skinned beauty

The other day as I was driving home, I ploughed through a mass of dandelion fluff floating through the air. Millions of feathery seeds once attached to a stem had uplifted from the field beside the road and then got caught in a breezy travelling draft only to eventually disperse and settle to begin the cycle again on someone else's lawn. My car parted through the fluff. Before I knew it, I was on the other side this dandelion storm heading in the same direction. Smiling. It was a very cool experience.

I was reminded of this tiny burst of a moment tonight when I was trying to figure out where I've been and why I haven't been able to settle down enough to write. I realized that whenever I've tried, I couldn't harness my thoughts. I couldn't remain attached to the stem of an idea. I have been emotionally, cognitively, physically uprooted. Spiritually too.

At first inward glance, I focused on the negative reasons. We tend to do that don't we? As much as I strive to be a "glass half full" person and can encourage someone else to alter their inward glances from the negative to a more productive positive, when I'm at my worst I can't make the switch very well at all. So, I looked at it from that angle and this is what I saw...........

There have been days when I've felt like a train wreck and I'm so bloody busy trying to keep up with everything I have to do around here! Exhausted, alone, overwhelmed. Discarded. I second guess myself. I let my confidence sag like milkless breasts. OOOOOoooooo! I get all chilled and flushed at the same time even writing about it/thinking about it because the most predominant feelings that stream through me are shame and guilt. Failure. My emotions are so raw and on the surface way too much these days. There are many reasons for this which have left me with a sense of stalled vulnerability.... a heart open too wide and for too long. This leads to serious brain flooding and over reacting! And a jumble of questions........ ones that certainly don't have easy answers.

How do you love like you've never been hurt when you've been hurt? How do you truly forget or let go of past shambles so that it doesn't impact a new relationship? There has to be a way. There has to be a different avenue. I keep seeking. I want the street I seek to be named Trust-Me Boulevard, but I think it will have a new name. I just don't know where it is or what it will be called but let me catch a draft heading in that direction. Please!

What happens if allow your inward glance to lean towards a more positive perspective? This is actually where I am tonight. For the first time in weeks, I am breathing differently. I think. For now anyways. No doubt I have been scattering my energy in too many different directions. Scampering and scattering. Unbalanced. Seemingly floating in air without the tendrils to keep me grounded. Caught in a draft. Seeking and fearfully uncomfortable as I take new risks, form new relationships and TRY to juggle everything else in my life I must focus my attention on.

However, it may not be such a bad place to be at all. Challenging! FOR sure! Taxing? YES! Messy? YOU BET! But, being in this place of transitional movement is ripe for opportunity. I'm learning every day. I'm also getting things done around here. Maybe not as efficiently as I should or would or could. But, I am. New front steps. Repainted another room. Decluttering as best as I can. I've got a load of gravel sitting in my driveway just waiting for someone to shovel and level it! Any offers?!!

The garden is blooming. So are the weeds. The lawn is lush green and where there were patches of winter kill, it is newly seeded. The laundry isn't folded. There are cobwebs and dust in the corners of my home. But my kids are thriving and so am I. In spurts and starts and stalls and stops. My love life is a bit of a minefield, but that's to be expected. I'm learning to trust again. Tearfully, fearfully, bravely.... in my own wonky way.

I'm also experiencing many many many light bulb awakening moments. Big stuff! Big blooming stuff..... like how messed up my boundaries are with the people in my life ...... and how much they have altered. I'm learning that I have a long way to travel when it comes to trust again...... and I realized tonight that the name of the avenue I am looking for won't be named Trust-Me Boulevard. Rather, the first street I seek out will be Trust-IN-Me Place. This comes with letting myself off the hook by stopping the shame and guilt feelings. Acknowledging them of course, but then telling them to piss off!

If I'm ever going to be like that dandelion fluff and settle down again to begin a new cycle, I have to be patient with the journey, and accept the fact that it will never be a straight arrow path. Air drafts, like the pockets of unexpected life messes take you to destinations you may never have seen before.

Hey God are you around these days?? Will you take a moment to check on me... just for some reassurance. Please let me learn to be more accepting and less sensitive to judgement. Let me settle where I land. Let me bloom there on Trust-In-Me Place. I just know its where I belong........ it's where I can learn that hard lesson of loving again like Ive never been hurt. Gotta trust in me first, right God?

and the world will be a better place............

2011-05-24T07:07:00.001-03:00

sisters and cousins.

I need you.

Three simple words that pack a punch. You hear it in the cry of a newborn. You feel it when you tiptoe into your sleeping child's room late at night and take in the air of innocence. You see it in the pleaing eyes of your dog. You hear it in the words, I love you.

It's the underlying message behind a recognized job well done, or in a comment like......."we couldn't have done it without you." It hides behind a thank you, a bless you, an "I'm so glad to see you."

When you are given a task because someone knows you're good at it.

When you are hugged by a thankful friend after helping them move.

When you receive an email which reads......."you don't know how much it means to me....."

You are needed.

We may not even be cognizant of striving for those moments of validation. We may think that our actions are performed because we just want to, or we feel obligated, or because it's the right thing to do. But you know what? We do them because we have a desire to feel like we are needed.

What happens if no one needs us? What if we NEVER feel needed, or that all of our needs are met by others due to the circumstances we find ourselves in our lives, and there is never a chance to reciprocate? Why are those words so powerful? Why do we long to hear them?

Because deep down, we all have a need to be needed. Perhaps hearing these words and feeling validated is provides us with the impetus for living. Perhaps knowing we are needed by others keeps our hope alive, especially when the whole world around us seems so dauntingly depressing. If I know I'm needed, I want to get up in the morning again and again.............I want to partake in the life of my community.

I have a REASON to be.

In his book, "Man is Not Alone," Abraham Heschel elaborates on this idea. He proposes that there are many things in life that human beings need in order to survive. And yet, planet earth would carry on because it doesnt need us.

"Who is in need of man? Nature? Do the mountains stand in need of our poems? Would the stars fade away if astronomy ceased to exist? The earth can get along without the aid of the human species. Nature is replete with the opportunity to satisfy all our needs except one -- the need of being needed."

WE need to be needed. It's what gives our life meaning. It doesn't matter if you are the poorest person or the richest person in the whole world. It doesn't matter if you are healthy and independent or living in chronic pain, dependent on others for your care every single day of your life. It doesn't matter if you live in a palace surrounded by luxury, servants and someone who draws your bath, cooks your meals and chooses your wardrobe, or if you live on the street with no home to go to. It doesn't matter if you are you or I am me. WE all live to fulfill our desire to be needed.

It is how we can leave our footprints behind.

No amount of money can buy it. No amount of money can replace the feeling. It's a priceless gift to give and to receive. It is by far our most important human being role.

This year, I said it more times than ever in my life. It has been the most challenging year to overcome rejection. So, I found myself asking for help. A lot. I need you. Please help me. For ideas, for companionship, for practical reasons, for friendship therapy. To help me learn some of the basics of running this house that I didn't know how to do..........like taking a door off its hinges!

Recently I sent out an email to a few people describing a few of my ideas/plans/goals asking for help. I entitled it "Putting it out there..." It was my attempt to put the first pieces of my thoughts into words. To make it more real. I sent it out to make it more real but more importantly, to ask for feedback, advice, support.

I felt a bit naked doing it, but the response was incredible! Not only was it thought provoking. Not only did some of the feedback challenge my novice dreams, thereby fueling my vision. Not only has it put me in a place where I know I have a bunch of folks who will take me to task by asking questions like..... "Hows it going with that dream of yours?" Their individual responses have helped mend me by reinforcing that this dream of mine is doable. If I do it right. If I do my homework. If I plan. With their guidance.

What a life affirming task it is to help one another...... Whether its giving or receiving, the feelings it provokes are broad and intense, which I believe falls under the umbrella of vulnerability. Strip away all the ego feelings, and what is left is a healthy interdependence. The ties that bind.

Sometimes, the person you asked to help you just can't. They don't have the energy. Life may be in turmoil for them as well. Or maybe they havent recognized that as humans we are both givers and takers. Maybe by asking for their help, you may reveal their needs. Is there anything more therapeutic than to help another?

Do you need me? Do we need one another? I need you.

Our helping actions express the ultimate message .... I love you. You matter. I see you. I need you too.

the affect of power on peckers....

2011-05-18T00:55:00.001-03:00

What's with the correlation between political power and the inability to keep one's pecker in one's pants?

Two very public stories have emerged this week which has foisted this age old question front and center in my thinking. Dominque Strauss-Kahn..... not a name I had ever heard of until the news broke on Sunday that this man who runs the IMF, who had serious aspirations to run for President of France, was unceremoniously wrenched out of his first class seat and charged with rape.

Turns out this man with a prestigious CV has succumbed to his salacious urges in the past too and almost got away with it. Now, the stories are erupting as we learn that he's on suicide watch in New York jail. No bail for him. Too high risk to hide out in villa on the Mediterranean out of reach from the judicial system.

I heard today that if he had been in NYC on formal business, he would've had diplomatic immunity. Oh grand! How sick is that? If someone has a position that falls under the umbrella of diplomatic immunity, they can sexually assault any chambermaid of their choice and get away with it. Doesn't it make you wonder how often this crime takes place and we never hear about it? What a bloody sham!

And what about Arnold??? Herr Terminator Sperminator Governor?? He fathered a child with a staff person (another power person over a subordinate) 10 years ago and managed to keep it hushed up even from his wife, media, family? Wow. Their marriage for many years was a big blowing lie. It makes me queezy thinking about it and my heart goes out to Maria Schriver and their 4 children. Infidelity is a wicked kick in the gut. For her to be living under the same roof with the staff person Arnold was boinking and making babies with is unbelievably cruel.

Henry Kissinger famously stated that "power is the ultimate aphrodisiac." And it can impact both parties in a sexually. Power ramps it up for both.... the one with power and the one who is lured into a tryst because of the aroma of power. Whether its boardroom hijinks or a full court press, it doesn't seem to matter. Politicians, business folks, athletes, entertainers, actors.......... horizontal rumbling is the preferred extra curricular activity. Without a second thought to the consequences. Without a blink or a wink to the people who are left in the ditches of despair and shock.

It makes me wonder........... where and when is the tipping point? I mean, there has to be a transitional point when someone in power retains a sense of decorum and humility. Gratitude too. Even a belief that they are no better than anyone else. Then, all of a sudden a line is crossed. All values slide off their skin and what is left is a hungry drive to release their pheromes and slippery semen into the world.

Why? Because its risky and they want to experience that heightened feeling of doing something against the rules? Because they feel like they would never get caught, so why not? Because they are so numb by the pressure they are under, or the lack of attention they may feel from their spouse? I'm sure there are a million of reasons....... or should I claim them as excuses? Cause that's what they are. No apologies can lift the victim up out of the dredges of this reality.

Power and control are needs we all try to attain, hopefully not to the detriment of others. To have some healthy empowerment in our lives allows us to feel a sense of balance and confidence, which in turn feeds our sense of who we ar and how we may fit in this world. In any given relationship, however, if the power tips for whatever reason, there is an imbalance where one person has more control than the other. From there, feelings are hurt, mixed and misunderstood. From there, one person in the relationship tries to pull away while the other tries too hard to make it work. This kind of scenario is ripe for disaster..... ripe for an affair. It happens regularly, without hesitation.

I have no empathy for the parties who flagrantly do this to others and then expect the people all around them to forgive and forget. Count on the forgiveness eventually. Forgetting? Doubt it!

I don't believe these activities will ever be eradicated. Once someone crosses the line, drops all of their belief system because the urge to "drop trou " has turned into a blinding light that attracts them like moths to a back door light, they are long gone. Flooded with such feelings, there is very little space left for rational thinking.

Personally, I want none of it. I don't want to be in a relationship that hovers around the disrespect of another while maintaining some strange control thing. I've seen it, experienced it and I respect myself too much for this foolishness. I don't want to be in a relationship where some man has to prove their manliness by adding notches to their belt and then TELL you about it. And I certainly have no respect for the people in power who can't keep their peckers in their pants.

So, to all those men who are in power or who think they are, here's a little poem for you........

Don't shower me with platitudes or talk in silly rhymes

Don't offer me bouquets if they're meant to hide your crimes

Don't share with me your dreams if they're ones you do not own.

Only open-hearted sincerity is welcome in this home.

Don't gaze into my eyes without a breath of care

Don't throw missing kisses up into the air

Don't ask me questions if answers won't be received

I'll not tolerate your reeking actions of deceit.

If you can't abide by the very basic pure rules of conduct that include respect, loyalty, open communication, fairness and LOVE, I don't want a part of it that thank you very much. You don't deserve me and I certainly don't deserve that kind of treatment. NO ONE does.

the pall over the river.....

2011-05-16T22:13:00.003-03:00

Every day at dusk, hundreds of blackbirds swoop by my house. They come in clusters, leisurely air sailing through swirling winds, catching up and down drafts with pleasurable ease. No matter what the weather, no matter what the season, these habitual birds travel the same route.

I don't know where they spend their day..... somewhere "upriver" from where I live. But just before darkness falls, they seem to breeze in through the landscape canvas sky and fliterflap on past me. On days like this, when the soggy skies are gloomy grey, their blackness seems to hauntingly push through the thick clouds.

At first they appear like bug specks on the horizon. Then, they loom larger and larger until they are almost close enough to touch from my livingroom, which is eye level to their flight path. When I happen to be in this room at the right time, I stand and watch them in awe.

Tonight, it was a different feeling. Their presence spoke a message of distress because they arrived just after the large yellow search and rescue helicopter ominously scoured the swollen river after a boat filled with 5 people capsized. When my daughter and I first heard the loud propellered beast slowly making its way past our house, we knew deep down inside it wasn't a good sign. Still, we hoped it was a training exercise from CFB Gagetown. But, it continued to repeat the same pattern over and over again....... this slow motion combing of the shorelines and spring flooded islands.

Until the birds arrived.

At dusk, the loud yellow helicopter made its last turn around to return to the landing pad. Quiet wonder echoed danger. Then the birds swarmed in, marking the transition from day to night. Their flight path continues to be solidly ingrained in their wingspan. With flipflapping ease, they caught the draughts of the chilly winds and seemed to mock the tragedy still unfolding. Misty fog gripped the newly green branches and fields like unsettled spirits as the blackbirds circled once and flew off to their nighttime landing location. Yellow streetlights on the other side of the river, blurred by the rain and fog left their streaks on the surface of the rushing water.

There is little information on this accident. It has all happened since late afternoon when this group was travelling along the shoreline collecting fiddleheads. To be sold at the market this weekend? Along the roadside? What I've read? 4 people were rescued. One died on the way to the hospital. The fifth remains lost to the river tonight.

A bell tolls in my heart as I think about the people whose lives have been tragically shaken by grief and loss by this split second accident.

seeking love........

2011-05-15T00:47:00.000-03:00

Muffled by moonless drapes, her energy palpitates in snuffled beats like a foghorn lost in shipwreck history. A darkening swath of uncertainty suffocates illusions.... normally a reliable escape from the phantoms of rejection. The resin of bare truth lays at her feet. Its lingers. Remnants of old sex.

The jingling of her keys break the silence of her homecoming. As she places it inside the lock and turns her wrist, she hears the one click echo of her empty apartment. The door opens to darkness. She kicks off her shoes relieving her pinched feet that once delighted in wearing dainty shoes and takes in a stumbling breath of disappointment. Then, she listens..........

Brooding spirits whine through eaves soaked by the unrelenting rain and swarm the lingering damp air. One lit candle projects their stretched out shadows Solitude, sprinkled with doubt turns into a melancholic aria. It's sound is all too familiar. Refreshed hunger grumbles. Tonight, the haunting violin plays inside a teardrop. Its sweet innocence is lost in the reality that despite her best efforts, she has returned home alone again from her night out at the dance hall with the girls.

________________________________________

ps. Inspired by an hour spent at a local bar last fall that was filled with lonely hearts and hopeful middle aged dreams. It was an eye opening experience.... one that filled me with the memories of the "stories" I could feel emanating from the people all around me. That night, I got home and wrote 20 pages in my journal..... created vignettes from my imagination and gut reaction to what I had observed and felt.

love is a direction...

2011-05-13T23:29:00.000-03:00

Soft shoe meandering tonight after a week swarmed by the buzzing energy of meaningful connections. Beautiful, heartwarming, across the waters, fingertip lightening connections. Front and centre, within my reach, embracing arms connections. Over the phone, face to face, smiling eye recognition.

Affirmation from voices, from looks, from shared stories..... texting flirts. Texting facts. Texting observations, feelings..... Humans expressing stress. Fear. Delight. Gratitude. Humans responding to my request for help with open arms, with encouragement. Humility. Me responding to someone else's needs. Gratitude and humility.

We help each other. Its the best we can offer. Love directing.

I held a newborn this week. Cuddly little sleepyhead in caterpillar purple. Sigh. Time stopped as I inhaled the sweetness of her tiny being.

Hips groove to a reflective tempo tonight. Jazzed up salsa with feathery drum touches filters through the airwaves to surround me in upbeat momentum. Not like a rave. More like a spirit that moves its limbs like the body suit of a cat awakening. High notes bleeding into the nostalgic earth. It makes me feel grounded. Barefoot on cool pine floors.....

I watched my children cocooned in their deep sleep..... burrowed under favourite covers. Dreaming their own colours. Their own beat. Completely safe. Utterly relaxed. Sigh.

I love late night radio.......... with its static touches from far off sounds beyond the woods. Down a well travelled road. Along the winding river darkened by a starless sky. Settled under streetlamps moistened by raindrops. Never ending raindrops.... It brings music that shares its own stories from a musician's zone flow. I can picture them completely immersed in creating emotion from their strings..... making them laugh, cry, whine....... the human and the instrument blending together emerging from a studio....... from one microphone outward to reach my ears. Absorbing it......

I listened to young love conflictions. New complications. Big flooding feelings and what to do about them. His own Mom was away. On the week he REALLY wanted her guidance. I replaced his Mom for a short time. He needed to tell me how happy he is to be with the girl of his dreams........ but what to do about the best friend who likes her too? What to do? I listened. I asked......... tell me what you think you should do. What do you think you're Mom would say? He smiled......... and thought and remembered other coversations with his gentle soul Mom. "Do what is right...." she would've said........ Then, he knew how he would handle the conflictions.........

"Do you know what is right to do?" It all depends. On the complications and the situation .......

I'm tired. Good tired. Deep rooted gladness fatigue right down into the tips of my soaken soul.

It wasn't all gladness. This week. No. Sometimes it felt like I was pushing heavy air up a hill. Sometimes, it felt like I was going to burst out of a tear bubble and land flat on my sorry ass. Sometimes, all I could do was put one foot in front of the other. Sometimes, I allowed someone to play hopscotch on my heart. No soft shoe hopscotch. Heavy shoes. It hurt. It was confusing....... It triggered my feelings of rejection to a point where I thought I'd be swallowed up again.

Then, something would happen to turn the rain clouds upside down.

Like a reunion with someone I can shed inhibitions.... let go of the roles, the masks........ escape for a while.

Like meeting a new friend who burst into my life like a rainbow of blending personalities. We only talked for a short while, as we shook our heads wondering how the heck we had never met before. So much in common.

Like watching my friend cross the finish line after running her very first 1/2 marathon on sore sore feet and a wonky muscle in her back. She bested her time by a whomping amount. How bursting proud I was of her overcoming so many personal and winter weather obstacles to be able to run with her head held high and all of us watching her achieve this goal. She's now soaking her feet in Rome on a trip with her Mom. The first time they've ever been able to get away together just the two of them.

Like seeing the pre-midterm nervousness zip through my daughter's whole body only to see her hours later relieved that all of her hard work paid off. Her smile melts my heart. Her hugs melt me too. A month from now, she'll be graduation from high school and heading off to camp for the summer. Bittersweet life forging ahead.....

Like seeing my son........ with the crackling voice galoomp into the kitchen with new long legs raring to share a few funny stories from his day............... head in the cupboards looking for crackers! His delight peaked too when he found out that the trip to Toronto next week is now on the agenda. My 13 year old off on an independent adventure. Am I ready? He is. I am. Maybe.

Like accomplishing the practical things around here. Painting my bathroom, even hanging up the heavy mirror on my own without breaking it! A guy named Shirley fixed my lawn mower and gave me shit for not properly storing it for the long winter! Ooops! Thanks Shirley. Next week, a big hearted man named Edgar will fix my front steps. It's all happening........... so often this spring I've been overwhelmed by these practical things. Now, I see progress......... Upside down clouds!

Like having a friend lending me her black heels to wear to a fancy dress ballet gala at the last minute so I didn't look like a flat footed underdressed fool beside my man in his tuxedo. She is always one phone call away. Just up the hill. My angel.

The music is becoming more ethereal, more experimental as the night lingers on.......... as my thoughts and feelings float down into my soft shoes......

And I remember that today, a stranger man my age called me Kiddo! He said......... " you helped out a lot Kiddo...." after I tried to lighten up his anxious moment of having all of his groceries come tumbling out of the back of his SUV by informing him that he had just been struck by the luck of Friday the 13th!

Kiddo! I patted him on his sleeve and wished him a good rest of the day! Our eyes met. We smiled. Then drove off in our own direction.

Did you know that love is a direction? Did you know that you can choose that direction? You just have to put it out there.

This week, I took a risk or two. I put it out there. And what came back? Well, you guess. It was beautiful. So marvellous that I stand here tonight in my soft shoes smiling a sense of gladness and fatigue, looking forward to crawling under my own favourite covers and letting the dreams find this young little Kiddo.

Thank you to everyone who made my week so fulfilling, challenging, loving, encouraging and important to me and for allowing me to truly begin to put my once quiet thoughts and plans "out there....." I have miles to go before I sleep. Tonight though, I take a break ......... and soft shoe my little tushie to bed.

matters of the heart

2011-05-11T06:31:00.004-03:00

"Dance like nobody's watching;

Love like you've never been hurt.

Sing like nobody's listening;

Live like it's heaven on earth."

Mark Twain

Boy, you see that quote plastered all over the place.....

I've got no problem doin' a foolish jig. Dance, dance wherever you may be! Singing? Sure! If a tune hits me, I'm there belting it out off key without hesitation much to the embarrassment of my lovely offspring. "Living like its heaven on earth?" Well, I don't know exactly what that means, but I kind of envision it as having to do with enlightened timelessness. Or maybe Twain meant that we should don angel wings, and look after one another. Whatever he truly meant by the line, its safe to say its all about goodness. But, holy heartbreak Batman! "Love like you've never been hurt?" Well, that one is a doozy! Love hurts!

Sometime over the past couple of months, I asked my therapist if I will ever learn to trust a love interest again. "Will it return?" I asked....... She assured me that my ability to trust will return, but will look and feel different than it used to. Trust will evolve as I regain my confidence in my intuitiveness. Given that intuition is an ingredient used every single day in my line of work - it is the grease that lubricates the counselling tools, for the most part I have regained it. I think. Well, maybe not in the love department. I've got a long way to go there. But in the work department, I feel like I've got a handle on trusting my instincts. Sort of. :)

Hmmmmmm.......... I do have a tendancy of sliding into the realm of uncertainty and second guessing how I'm assessing a situation. I seem to jump quickly out of certainty and into the fire of doubt. But maybe that's a better way of being. It ain't efficient and it causes stomach pangs, but it forces me to look at situations from more angles than I once used to.

I guess you could say, I've lost the innocent naivete of my trusting-ness and am in the process of discovering a more reflective process of contemplation. Something happens between myself and another that puts me in a place where I am distrust-full ....... a boomerang trigger effect happens which forces me to face the deeper questions as to why I am feeling uneasy. In an attempt to stop the hurt feelings, a protective shield goes up along with a rush of blood pulsing feeling (kind of like a body blush) and badaboom, I'm alert, awake and wondering........... should I trust this person?

Here's the thing........ the OTHER person is asking themselves the same questions! This is the impacting of learning to love another at this point in our lives........ Two people grappling with trust, love, and their own tender wounds from being "de-loved" by another. It's a dance with new steps! Theirs. Yours. Ours. Separate. Together.

Love does hurt. But, if one can open up to trust again, even if it is an animal of a different colour, LOVE can also feel so amazingly life affirming. Even more intensively than it once did!

So, here's my theory. Crack open those heart feelings. You can't take them with you when you leave this planet so you might as well use them ALL up!!!! Let them go deeper into the soul. Let them seep out beyond the borders of what we once accepted as our palette of feelings we allowed ourselves to feel. Let go of the old trusting ways. They didn't work well enough.

NOW walk towards a different shade of trust that may not be recognizable yet. Open your eyes, your mind, your heart, your arms............ be aware it may hurt. BUT, be aware it may Love you right back. Or it may not. It's all about living in that place where certainty is always uncertain! There are no certainties in LOVE!

You can always take a step back. You can always protect yourself if your gut tells you to stop. We have that ability. God's gift to us is knowing there is spiritual support all around us. Supported with LOVE. Not protection! In order to live out loud......to live like this is heaven on earth? Our faith encourages us to find our dancing feet, our singing voices, and our loving hearts. His love offers us the confidence to BE someone who feels love all around!

It may hurt. It may heal. But it will always enhance the feeling of being wide open alive!

To quote Michael Franti.............."It seems like everywhere I go, the more I see the less I know. But one thing I know, I love you.
I love you, I love you, I love you...........

ps. My second attempt to capture a few thoughts on a topic that seems to be seeping into my life and the lives of my loving friends all around me who are making tentative steps into a new world of relationships.......

Light filtering into a small Welsh church,

Cardigan NB. May 2011

petals.... he loves me, he loves me not...

2011-05-08T05:19:00.000-03:00

I don't know whether its writer's block I'm struggling with, or just a head full of unfinished thoughts. It seems as though I begin a piece, all wired up, focused on a topic, an opinion but before I know it, my concentration bends to the left, and my inspiration evaporates. Partly its because I'm overwhelmed with the daily tasks as well as the bigger ones that need tending around here, but even they aren't getting fully completed. I'm wandering. Lally-gagging. Ambling. Free floating with no consistent anchor.

I don't know what it all means........... why I'm so unmotivated to stay on task and I sure hope this lull in creative pursuits lifts soon. I find it very disconcerting that I can't simply push through the foggy bends to a place where the energy meets up with the desire to write with the drive I once had in spades. Usually winter and spring is a prolific time for me. Not this year. Lingering thoughts drift and weave, duck and bob constantly. Then, of course there is the feeling of frustration when I havent been able to capture their essences in the heat of the fresh moment. They get all garbled up together and I'm tentative about where to begin.....

How about here............ it's a good place as any to start............. again............

I have been thinking about love a lot. Middle Age love. Its very different as it has its own unique set of challenges. I've come to the conclusion that love at this point in life is learning how to accept your own weirdness..... your own quirks and way of being, which in itself is a tremendously difficult thing to do especially if you've experienced rejection. Here you are carrying a crap load of life trinkets stuffed in a duffle bag labelled "baggage," meeting others who have their own duffel bags crammed with their lively and lovely remnants of personal paraphenalia. All the while, you are trying to sort out your own.....tossing, reflecting, sharing, discovering (cause not all of it is recognizable.... it just snuck into the bag along the way without you looking). Then along comes a prospective amour on a similar journey but a different kettle of fish to contend with. It can be a bit daunting. Like traipsing through a minefield of hotshots of unresolved emotions.

No two pieces of baggage look the same. Sure, they may have similar contents, but there's enough variety that its almost impossible to find an apparent match. It's all very weird.

It IS all very weird but absolutely fascinating. Like a personal sociological excavation! A far cry from the wide eye innocent in search of the one and only to fulfill everything imaginable....... the two becoming one idea that is so prevalent during the early dating years in one's life. No, that very thought had the stuffing knocked out of it! This new territory of dirty dancing between two people who have wobbly and jiggly bits, a few more wrinkles they care to admit to, crows feet and skin blotches, moles that seem to have erupted during a random night attack on the body...........??? Well, lets say its a more humbling adventure. It also has way more opportunities for stumbling upon hilarity, and laugh out loud absurdist moments that can leave you with a couple of great stories, and foot injuries. THEY are from making the attempts at dancing with the partner only to find out that you are both inclined to lead!

The heartbreak is the same. The feelings which are more seasoned than they were during youth consequently drill down deeper into the soul of a Middle Aged seeker. The intensity of a love connection is rapid and full of quick assessments, and sometimes wonky decisions. More often than not based on timing, and the amount of time one wants to put stock into the relationship, it may be fleeting. If there is any doubt........ the waves roll into what may be a perfectly wonderful pairing and wash out the dreaminess of love. One tide roll in and out and time to move on. I think it has to do with realizing that at this point in life, who wants to waste time lingering in something that may have too many flaws..... or that the personal baggage simply doesn't match well enough. God knows one is never going to find a matching pair of luggage at this point, but there has to be some complimentary shades and flaws or it wont work.

It's a dauntingly frightening place to be.......... dating at this age. But, bloody fun too! There is nothing more life enhancing than to feel the heat of a mutual attraction all over again, which sensitively affirms your own beauty and the positives of your personality. Sometimes those really important components of who you are get lost in the sludge of the end of a marriage or a long standing relationship. To know you are the light in someone else's eye twinkle and to feel theirs in your own eye twinkle makes the heaviness of life's challenges lift!

The key is to be in the game. To get in the game. There is no sense in wallowing for too long, or just dipping your toe into the whole world of kindled love. It's way more fun to regenerate that sense of play in you. That's how I see it. Plus, as a writer, who may not have writer's block in the real sense......... maybe I just need to pursue some wandering, lingering and lally-gagging a bit, the stories of returning to the dating world are for the most part weirder than fiction would ever be...... What an eye opening mostly hilarious adventure!

What I've learned.........

A kiss is still a kiss and still toe tingling amazing

A sigh from the lips of another is enchanting.

A sigh from the lips of me is newfound joy.

Love still hurts.

Love still makes the heart thump

Love makes you do the craziest things, say the most ridiculous things, think the most wackiest self doubting thoughts.....

Love tenderizes an already tender footed being.

It has been a year of accumulating more stories.......... perhaps some of them will be the ones that will eventually seep out of my heart to be shared with readers. You just never know.......

Another look at counselling.......

2011-04-29T01:04:00.000-03:00

easter sunset, from the Fredericton walking brigde.....

a beautiful place to contemplate

I do love my job. Everyday is different. Everyday brings new faces, new stories, new connections into my life. It's like I have a front and centre seat for the unveiling of life evolving. It is an intimate place to be when secrets, big dreams, past faux pas, enthusiastic announcements are revealed in my small corner of the world. Big monumental events may be occuring all around the world. But let me tell you, big monumental events are simultaneously occuring in my office.

Change, growth, transitions, grief, health issues, new beginnings, conflict, discomfort merging with comfort, all emotionally charged tales from humans striving to make decisions, letting go of the stuff once considered important...... pairing down what matters. Big stuff! Family, relationships, friends, roommates, support vs non support, academic struggles. It is an endless combination unique to the individual who finds their way into my office. Stretching beyond comfort while managing life/school/work........... amazing how much one person can juggle and do it well. Sometimes, though, they need a place to relax........ a place to spill the confusion in order to find clarity. This is where I come in.

What I'm finding is that my skin is thinner than it used to be. Having said that, I don't bring the stories home or the angst. But, what comes home with me is extreme fatigue. Its like I run out of gas more quickly than I used to. This week has shown me this reality again. I have nothing left in my personal energy reserves when I cross the threshhold into my home. Ironic that I preach, promote, encourage balance and I've tipped over into the well of overwhelmed. I can't seem to keep up with everything at home. AND, I realize that I'm in a point in my life whe I can't rely on the noggin to remember everything............ I have to make a list or I forget to deal with some pulsing task that needs my attention. The mundance stuff! But, it still has to get done.

On any given day, I hear about depression, suicide, health issues that are extreme, mental health concerns, family strife, family health problems. I hear about test anxiety, the inability to study properly, to focus enough, to get in the groove to continue studying. I hear about conflict between classmates, or disagreements between a student and an instructor. So, some of what I do is predictable. What isn't is the personality behind the issues along with the history/baggage that goes along with the individual.

Counselling is puzzling, challenging, brain work. It also strums at the heart, and creates shared beautiful moments of vulnerability. I love it all............ and often find myself in life situations outside of the office when I'm caught in the middle of counselling which is fine. But, I guess i'm sitting here tonight wondering just how much longer I can continue this gig? It's probably not the time to be questioning things. I need a fresh mind, a good night sleep, a chance to catch my breath before I should seriously look at this dilemma.

It is a calling. The act of counselling so bred in my bones. Why then is it leaving me feel exhausted and aimless at night, to a point where i can't seem to stick to a task, accomplish it from beginning to end? Why has my writing dropped off even though I have time to write, but end up bouncing around doing a variety of things that are not related. When was the last time I read a novel? When was the last time I felt organized?

These are the questions pushing on my brain................ I know I'm not burnt out while I'm in the realm of counselling......... when I'm really in the middle of it. But, I'm burnt out at night.

No answers yet......................... just striving to find some linearity. Perhaps I must succumb to making more thorough lists. Perhaps I need to hire someone to help me get out of the messes that surround me in this home that is in desperate need of some TLC and spring cleaning. Perhaps if my sleeping wasn't so wonky, I could find some comfort in the answers.............

The jury is out............ Tired and out. But, I know its time to find another route. My journey needs new direction. Cause change is as good as a rest!

hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm..............................

emotional manipulation revisited

2011-04-25T12:30:00.002-03:00

This is a long post, but hopefully you will find a few gems in it that may help you. I know it's helped me understand it more deeply as I've written it....... put it aside, and then returned to it again and again.

I've been plugging away at it one and off for a year! Why? Well, of all of the topics I've posted on this blog, the one piece that is "googled" the most (at least 4-5 times daily!) was one I wrote about over two years ago. I continue to receive emails and comments from people all over the world who are trying to find the answers to dealing with an Emotional Manipulator in their lives.......... whether its a friend, a lover, a partner, a family member...... they are seeking out answers, looking for some understanding as to what is happening in their lives. It is a messy topic....... one that comes from the dark side of us. We can all relate.

We can all manipulate. We all have this skill in us. However, there are human beings out there, who are masters of this way of being. For whatever reason, their lives and their internal wiring lead them into interacting with others using games and mind benders. To me, they are one of the most difficult individuals to help. Their needs are bottomless. Their tactics are so hurtful. Their ability to take ownership of their behaviour is flawed because more times than not, they don't believe there is a darn thing wrong with them. It's the rest of the world that is messed up..........

This post is written based on my own experiences, observations, and studies. I believe self awareness as well as the awareness of the symptoms and sickness is our best attempt as looking after ourselves.

My first experience happened with a first boyfriend....... age 16. He had unrelenting anxiety issues and became so ill he couldn't attend school. I juggled both his homework and my own, trying to be helpful. He would respond by telling me that if I broke up with him, he would kill himself. This is where my first learning took place. I continued on in that toxic relationship for an extra year out of fear. No one has the right to put their life in your lap! Oh guess what? He lived! And every now and then, I receive an email from him at 3 am. Out of the blue. My stomach does backflips all these years later when I see his name in my in-box! Crazy!!

IF we can see it, feel it, hear it, we can make the decisions to get out of the way. We have choices........ always. No matter what the consequences are.

____________________________________________________________

bleeding heart........

Its amazing how quickly we are drawn to the drinking fountain that spills the nectar we crave and not even recognize its damaging consequences until the sweetness rots a hole into our hearts. Its amazing how quickly we sidestep into the same dance moves despite the fact that the music beat seems completely different than the past. You'd think we'd learn to stay clear of these trappings. But cravings stilt our thinking while heightening our feelings to a point where they begin to control the choices we make. We get drawn in as fast as flames up the chimney.

SWOOSH! Off balance and confused by the swaying persuasion of a person who uses emotionally charged tactics to get what they want, we succumb to the hypnotic allure of their game. We become victimized and are held hostage by a professional victim who knows our weak points and knows how to use an arsenal of Emotion DARTS that target our weak points Its like playing chess with a master. The problem is..... in the rush to play the game, we don't recognize fast enough that we have become one of his Pawns.

How does this happen so quickly? How do we end up emotionally tied to another person who craves control because they don't feel like they have any in their life? How do we recognize the manipulator who smoothly uses mind manoeuvering techniques like a tonic we choose to drink? Why does this seem to happen more often to people who are kind and full of goodness? How do we become enablers in a game you will never win?

The way I see it AND believe it? It comes down to the idea that we are getting some of our own personal needs met!

Lots of questions! Lots of ruminations! LOTS of time spent trying to find your footing with professional victims who use the terror filling tactics of emotional game playing.

Ask yourself.............. Is what I am doing to help one of these victims getting me what I want?? What do I want? What are my needs?

Ask yourself......... Which of the most important relationships in my life are spiritually and emotionally healthy? What is is about them that make them feel healthy? Why are they healthy? Is there a respectful balance of give and take?

Ask youself.... Which ones are toxic? IN what ways are they toxic? Why? What am I getting out of it?

Ask yourself......... What role do I play in the push and pull of a relationship that may not be a healthy one? What am I sacrificing of myself and my life to try to maintain/fix/change the relationship?

We all have the same needs. According to William Glasser, Choice Theory guru guy, our needs fall into 5 categories. Survival, Love and Belonging, Control/Empowerment, Freedom and Fun. That's it. 5 needs. 5 goblets...... filled or not. If one of our goblets is nearing empty, our actions, according to Dr. Glasser focus on re-filling the need goblet. It affects how we think, feel emotionally, feel physically and act. In other words, it tints the lens we use to look out at the world around us because we crave to fill the emptiness.

For example, if Love and Belonging needs goblet is empty, thoughts turn to conjuring up statements like....."I'm unlovable. I'm ugly. I'm alone. No one loves me....Nobody cares that I'm even alive." This is the biggie!!! Emotional feelings may sour into loneliness, shame, sadness, anxiety, rejection, anger. Physical feelings turn to hunger, belly aches, headaches, energy heaviness. Every ache and pain is felt, which in turn twists thinking into morbidity.

Actions?? They can run the gamut. You may slink away into my bed and succumb to depression, or you may become the busiest butterfly flitting out and about with a broken wing in search of love. OR, if you are aware of what's happening and what the need is, you may choose a much more balanced healthier approach. You reach out to others. You get into counselling. You start up a project or immerse yourself in a hobby. You learn to be still and find happiness with your own company.

Instant gratification through sex, food, alcohol, online sexual risk taking with others out in the mean world. It comes down to looking for that elusive unconditional love but only ever finding love with conditions. With rules. With "do this" and I will love you conditions. Its amazing how far we will go to seek out love...... to feel a sense of oneness and belonging ........... to rid ourselves of our misfit persona. Values be damned when we are empty vessels in need of affirmation.

When my "love and belonging" needs have been depleted, I am vulnerably open to tripping into the kind of relationship that will devour instead of soothe. I try to MAKE the relationship work even if it is toxic. They will use their manipulative charm to get their own needs met.... empowerment, control and maybe even love and belonging too! At first glance, it appears that this relationship is a healthy partnership..... I'll scratch my back, you scratch mine scenario. But, when you are dealing with someone whose "need cups" can never be filled..... when they are a bottomless pit of need, there is no give and take balance. The relationship runs amok..... as the game of give, give, give and take, take, take continues until the giver has nothing left and the taker remains hungry for more.

give, give, give......

take, take, take.....

the giver pulls away, trying to look after themselves

the taker reacts by uttering demands, threats... even to a point where they say they will harm themselves. Even to a point where they DO harm themselves......... all in a ploy to shake up the guilt and shame of the Giver.

We are not dealing with a person who is healthy. Chances are, there is serious mental health issues simmering under the surface. But, they are smart. The anger and aggression eventually rise up through their skin, but days and weeks can go by when all seems so serene! They need professional intervention. Sadly, Emotional Manipulators are the last ones who will ever admit there is something wrong with them. They are professional victims. The world is out to get THEM.

So, we need to look after ourselves. Like they say before the plane takes off, we need to put our oxygen masks on first before we can attempt to help someone. We need to be aware of our own needs .... this is Emotional Awareness. This is Emotional Literacy! Read on!!!

If all of our behaviour is our best attempt at fulfilling our needs, how much control do we have over our actions? A heck of a lot more than we do trying to control the actions of others or their needs. We may be the most "aware" person in the whole world, sometimes our needs drive us blindly down some thorny paths even if we think we are being careful. And the worst thorny path to find yourself tumbling down is one that is owned by an emotional manipulator.

More often than not, this is the foundation of domestic violence, which INCLUDES more than a husband and wife scenario. Domestic violence includes elder abuse, child versus parent abuse, parent/child abuse, sibling violence, extended family abuse. Emotional, physical, sexual or a combination of all. More often than not, the manipulators who take advantage of our goodness are family. I've experienced it first hand through marriage. I've read about it, studied it, and have helped others in counselling sessions try to come to terms with it. Emotional Literacy is lifelong learning....... I am a student. I hope you are too.

Incredibly smart but sadly their self image is badly damaged, people who play with someone else's emotional stability are not only difficult to recognize right away, they will never admit the games they play. In fact, they often feign victimhood. This is their defence. This is their "comfort zone" they fall into when they feel any sense of wrongdoing. They are bullies seething on the verge of some serious mental health issues. Sadly, Sociopathic behaviour remains elusive in terms of change and treatment because an Emotional Manipulator is the last person to admit there is anything wrong with them.

No one is immune to the twisty turns of a person who has the smarts to turn a relationship into one of victim and aggressor. All we can do is be aware of our boundaries as well as our own needs. We have to learn to protect ourselves, learn how to walk away, let go and be firm about our own health and safety. This is very difficult to do when one is the kind of person who is considered a helper.... a doer.......... a person who has a lot of love to share. It is almost impossible to do when the person who has NEEDS that have no bottom pit is a family member or a lover. But, it is doable. Usually after many attempts and situations...... we do reach a place of readiness to put down the rules! To learn to let go and let it be rather than losing your own freedom and empowerment in your own life.

We do have the power to offer love and compassion while not getting entangled in the web of psychological destruction. We do not have the power to "save" another person from their own machinations, threats and self harm when they don't want to change. Tragically...........

Love is out there. Good love. Healthy love. Humans can provide this for other humans, though we are not perfect. When two people meet, they bring along their "needs" goblets........... its a merging of the head and heart. A blending of goodness and compasion as well as empathy for one another is reachable. And our guide to showing us what unconditional love is and how it can be reciprocated? God.

Look after yourself. See the toxic relationships through the a clarification lens. It may take a long time to let go of the threads that bind. No doubt it may be one of the most painful decisions to make because it leads to actions that may even feel inhumane to you at first. Get support around you, whether its through friends, family and/or professional help. Lean on your faith. Know there will be grieving. Sadness. Guilt. Shame. Be aware that it may even feel selfish to think of yourself first. It's all there. It goes against the grain of our compassionate hearts. But, it comes down to the fulfilling the very basic need of all........... Survival. Your own.

altering life's journey..........

2011-04-24T00:57:00.000-03:00

It began with an early morning trip, one with a dappling of spontaneity, to a secret beach adorned with shiny shards of broken glass softened by the pull and the dawn of the tides. This treasure was left to be discovered by three friends with pails on a seeking mission while taking a break from routine and over reaching ruminations of the tough side of life. Actually, these two girlfriends of mine were on a mission to help me get through a very tough anniversary date. I couldn't have asked for a better gift. Their love and understand AND a beach full of sparkling glass destined to be an art project of some kind!

Not only was it the anniversary of my marriage break up, it was the first day of Lent. Ash Wednesday. Timely this Lenten season was this year. In order to be by the shore when the tides were at their lowest, we left home before the sun was up and made it to our destination, after a non stop jabbery car journey, at 7 am. We were greeted by two white tailed deer gracefully standing by a clump of trees that hung close to the water. Peaceful beauty. Like a wink from God.

I had made the decision earlier to experience the momentum of Lent for the first time. I had never allowed myself to take it on fully. Always more comfortable standing on the outskirts of commiting to the formality of religion, I found myself this year with a desire to embrace it. I guess that happens naturally when one finds themselves into the routine of attending church services regularly throughout the year. My curiosity was piqued. My sense of connection with a congretion was growing along with my desire to take a step closer into the circle of this community propelled me towards tasting the mystery of Lent.

Ash Wednesday began along the Bay of Fundy shoreline inhaling the salt air, feeling the cold icy glare of the water, collecting the glass shards that held marine stories. It was a morning I will not forget for a long time. It filled me with kindred love, fresh air thoughts, a sense of adventure and one or two incredible moments that literally took my breath away.

I am a water girl.............. healing happens by the shoreline. So does the regeneration of my creativity. So does the re-clarification of my thoughts and feelings. So does the reflection of my life and where it may be headed. It happens like an instantaneous miracle.

Lent. Over the years, I have acknowledged it briefly with only the basic understanding of its symbolic meaning and reverential mystery. On the surface, it always appeared to me as a dour and daunting day....... the beginning of giving up something meaningful in my life. Of suffering. To give up was our human attempt to feel the suffering that Jesus experienced. But, how can one really meet that level of suffering?

My first immersion. I was eager. It has always felt that I was sitting on the sidelines observing and half listening because it seemed too dauntingly religious. Only the fully committed folks with unrattled faith seemed to take it on. Or so I thought. Until I sat amongst a congregation who were invited to attend the service as a means to re-commit to "the" journey. That hit home. I was looking for a way to re-establish my footing again after a winter of reaching new heights and slipping down into dark crevices. I wanted to seek some kind of balance but didn't really have any structure or parameters to make it happen. It was given to me as a gift.

After a gorgeous day at the beach, sharing lunch in a great diner, sipping on wine late in the afternoon as our way to stretch the holiday feel of the day, I headed to church to take part in the Ash Wednesday evening service. Nothing could've prepared me for the beautiful intimacy, the divine feeling of connections and the spiritual presence that floated in and around everyone who attended. This small group of independent pilgrims, all there for their own reasons, for their own curiosity, for their own desire to recommit to the journey were privileged to be a part of a service which literally left me grounded and determined to commit to being present for the whole season of Lent.

The day began along the shoreline collecting beach glass and old pieces of pottery.........gifts with stories from the mysterious deepness of the ocean floor. The day ended grounded in entering a story as eternal as the tides that pull and dawn every single day. Yes, I recommited to a journey of faith that excited as well as intrigued me. My steps were less tentative, and were very different than any other steps I had taken in the past.

I left this magical service with new thinking as well as a decision to push the sorrowful walls of the past and the anxious walls of the future back in order to allow the space to live in the here and now with more breath and depth. Lent was going to be a journey of the unknown........... but one draped in the stories as old as the hills.

To be continued...................

lonely

2011-04-23T23:11:00.001-03:00

Ok, so...........here I am. Relaxed in the cozy comfort of my home. I have a lot of thoughts growing and moving inside my head tonight and will continue to finish a few pieces of writing that seem to finally have met fruition. My own quiet vigil on this blustery night. I am in a good place emotionally and spiritually. Blessed. Truly.

I have been generating half baked pieces and for some reason I just couldn't get to the finish line with them. This piece began one day when I was feeling a little lonely. It created a source to dig deeper into that dark pit of loneliness, which I don't think I have truly felt myself, but have been privy to others sharing it with me.

The question I pondered........... how can I humanize the feeling? How can I capture its essence in a descriptive picture that others could relate to? After a great deal of thought about how to describe the real dark side of "lonely," the vision of an abandoned heart in a field covered in fog kept surfacing. A little beating heart lost in a fallow field. Once tended. Now, left.

Somewhere along the line, I was struck by the realization that the feeling of loneliness is the devil's best friend. We tend to succumb to our growling needs when we feel the most alone. Humans need love and belonging and if it isn't attained? We satisfy it by any means, despite our values. Despite our better judgement. Loneliness makes humans ripe for temptations.

Here is the poem that finally fell out of my inside journey. Sometimes its a good thing to peel away the layers to reach deeply into a feeling.......... just so you know. Just so you can be with another who may be living in such a place. Loneliness may be the friend of the devil, but it can also be the enlightenment we need to reach out with love to another human who may be suffering............

___________________________________

Shivering on a bed of dew,
a tearstained heart tugs on the hem of temptation.
If only........
Flattened by the heave of an unheard sigh
it sits on the edge of green fields blurred by dawn's fog
and looks longingly for a diamond balanced on the tip of tall grass.
hope..... if only.

Sleepy head dreary shivers with cold feet reality.

Grey light drapes its folds over dismissive hills.

Devoured comfort breathes
the sound of chattering teeth behind parched lips.

Lips in need of a kiss.

Lips in need of moistened lips.

A heart in need of love

beyond temptation.

If only.......

Ripped flannel, once heart protection
now reveals untended wounds.
This recluse in rags pumps with fear of being one,
Only one in ragtag tunes.

It begins to tumble
through thistles that whistle its name.

Lonely. Heart.

seeking..... comfort

only the lonely........
"Hello lonely......."
thistle whistles
hurting wounds....

One and only one it mumbles..........

as it succumbs to abandonment smothered in grief.

A crow cackles in the distance.

Love is a direction

2011-04-17T21:47:00.002-03:00

He tells me his shoes are all scuffed from walking. ... Scuffed by the heaviness that make his knees ache under the burden and his arches throb from the extra weight. His energy depleted, he can barely lift his feet. Still he walks. And walks. With a shuffle. A scuffed up suffering shuffle.

At night, he lays on his side of the bed, his body taut in buzzing anxiety, clenched jaw, tense muscles ... his unsettled heart fibrillating off beat. Erratic thoughts race through his dreams. He is caught like a fly in a spider web as he volleys between questions and answers.

"I'm stuck in a place of indecision, caused by too many to make," he says, "so I keep walking even in my sleep."

The bed....their bed......is now as comfortable as a concrete slab, unwelcoming in its reminder of what had been, what IS, and what seems to be the conclusion....

brokenness

loneliness

fear

sorrow

guilt

shame

He can't think beyond immediacy and it hurts. From head to toe it hurts. His present moment has become a slivering doubt, with the lament of the past merging with the heart thumping anxiety of the future. When he awakes from a dreamless night, his whole body aches from restless wanderings, steeped grovellings of ungranted forgiveness. It takes every ounce of energy not to roll over to face the wall as he makes himself sit up to a wave of unwelcome bile brought on by realization that its over. It's over.

But life still goes on despite the grief of his clenched soul. Work, bills, meetings, appointments, family, errands, responsibilities ... listening to the drab complaints echoing all around him. There's no escaping the hum of a scuffed life.

"I have to maintain the grip," he says, "because if I let go even for a second I will fall off the ledge and break into a million pieces. I wouldn't be fixable. It would be the end of me." So he holds on, fingertips on ledges, hoping the nightmare will end.

With memorized motions, he shuffles off to work, his hands closed tightly, stuffed in his pockets. He walks against the bitter April wind. His breathing's short snippy gasps lacks fresh air oxygen. It shorts out his thinking, and leaves him clouded in confusion. A clenched soul, stuck in the discomforting transition of change, numbed by too much real, feeling like if he surrenders to his feelings, he will be sucked into a vortex. Lost in his own miserable meanderings, he rarely registers the world around him. It's like he's formed a bubble of discontent around his body. Love can't escape. It can't get in either.

For some reason this morning, he looks up from his self absorption and sees two men, homeless and huddled under a ratty wool blanket leaning against the corner of the grey brick wall away from the entrance to the park. Their winter wool caps are moth eaten worn. Their faces are haggard from a tangled hard life. He sees one of the men pull a worn lunch bag out of his jacket pocket and take out a sandwich.

Without a word spoken, the man carefully unwraps it, and gives half to his friend to share. As these two ragamuffin men sit in a moment of kindred serenity, oblivious to their surroundings, sharing the only food they have, the clenched souled man stops dead on the sidewalk and stares at them. The scene pierces through his armour, as he realizes he is witnessing the essence of love. Humanity in its ordinary glory.

In a rush of awareness, his warm tears trickle down his cheeks. His shoulders give way to humble gratitude. His heart softens as his thoughts percolate with a nod towards what matters and a dismissal of all that doesn't. In one marked moment, he lets go of the myriad of questions as he realizes he simply has to trust in love.

Tired and spent but now wide awake, the bubbled of discontent bursts as he catches the eyes of the two friends sharing lunch. He smiles at them, then wipes his nose on his coat sleeve, inhales the biggest breath of much needed air and walks on towards the little chapel he passes everyday on his way to work. Though empty and silent, the chapel still beckons.

He pulls open the heavy wooden door to find a stream of sunlight dappling through the stain glass and walks over to the pew bathed in the sun's rays. He sits quietly ..... alone .... silent, and realizes his heart pain of loneliness had lifted, replaced with the comfort that perhaps love gets lost in the jumble of complicated feelings that wax and wane.

Once found, perhaps love is a direction. The guide. It is how you choose to see life. It is where you choose to place your gaze. He had allowed his feelings along with his stubborn will to shut himself off from the person who loved him the most. She had done the same.

He unclenches his hands, and gently lays his fingers together, his palms touching........and looks up at the ceiling. Despite the uncertainty of the future, he felt a calmness bathe over him and his determination return. In silent reverence to his new found direction he turns his face towards the beam of sunlight and whispers the words, "thank you."

He found the tonic for his clenched soul...... in the sharing of a sandwich.

persistence

2011-04-16T08:32:00.001-03:00

"Let our advanced worrying become advanced thinking and planning."

Winston Churchill

It travels from a plucky part of my brain down through my central nervous system. It re-oxygenates my red blood cells as they course through my veins, my heart, my soul. It pokes me in the ribs when I've sat still too long pondering my navel. Sometimes it sounds so much like that jowly Winston Churchill booming his tempered message in my ears ...... "Never, never, never, never give up.........."

On the other hand, sometimes it has a light whispery message, just as motivational...... a feather touch blue angel with a voice like Glinda, the good witch of the North..... "Home is knowing. Knowing your mind, knowing your heart, knowing your courage. If we know ourselves, we're always home, anywhere."

Music to my ears.....temporarily merry enough to push me forward when my socks feel laden with rocks that weigh me down.

"I can't do it....." I say with tired repose.

"Oh yes you can. Push through the wall of indecision. Pull back the drapes blocking out your light. Stop thinking. Grab hold of your courage and get off your ass!" replies an inner voice, with a familiar assertive tone I can trust. I can hear the caring feelings behind the pushy encouragement. "Get ready. Do what you need to do first. Then what is left is all reward."

Gee, I never knew Glinda would utter the word ass....... That witch surprises me every day.

I get up off the couch that grabs hold of my energy ..... drag my sorry ass down the hall to the have a shower. A hot pulsating shower rinses away doubt. I stand under the nozzle, wet warmth soaks my hair, my wrinkled freckled skin puckers until I can feel it feed my resolve. Tunes return to my inner repetoire. Through the hum of knowledge, I feel at home again. T

hat is when that jowly booming voice enters in the picture again......

"Never, never, never, never give up................."

Persistance is back. That plucky rib poking friend. Its back.

never be held hostage.....

2011-04-16T07:59:00.002-03:00

My goodness we take this for granted don't we? So much so that we need signs to remind us of this gift from God. Don't forget to let that imagination of yours roam past the picket fence, above the rules, into the mystery, out into the wild pastures of poetry.

Feelings can hedge us in if we let them ..... especially if one predominates over the other. They can flood us too.... right up to our temples, pushing out any room for creative or critical thought.

I know. I've been there. You have too. Stuck in an intrusive thought which uncorks the scary serpent emotions to slither around determined to gorge on the negativity of presumptions. A-Musings turn into wretched internal wiring.

Free up those feelings..... Let them go. They are only visitors anyways. Guests who begin to irritate after a few days of using up the tissues and drinking all your spirits! Send them off!

Think Free..... Unleash it. Let it gallop like a happy dog on an open field. Feed it by going on a good long walk with no destination. Let it expand beyond what you believe is truth to a place where good pondering produces new truths.

I'm off for a good long walk............................

renewal of our senses

2011-04-10T08:47:00.002-03:00

This morning, I will be reading this prayer..... I wanted to share it with you in hopes you will be there with me in spirit.....! Happy Sunday Morning!!

__________________________________________

Let us take a moment to be still together and take in a collective deep breath............

Good morning dear God.

As we gather here before You with refreshed breath of Your Spirit, we give our heartfelt thanks for the simple extraordinary gifts You provide with abundance every single day. Sometimes miss them in the flurry of our lives. Today, in our stillness and in our hearts…….

We hear…….

the song of the birds
the voice of a troubadour
the encouraging words of a friend.
Vivaldi’s Four Seasons streaming out into the open air....

Let us feel…..

the touch of a loved one
the peace of tranquility
the marvel of a connection.
the embrace of gratitude.
the breeze of a spring day.
The kiss of respect.

Help us inhale….
the aroma of fresh mown grass
the sun bursting with rain
the lingering scent of clean laundry
the wafting essence of lavender bubbles
Our Grandmother’s perfume

let us remember the taste of…..

fresh strawberries
cold water
peppermint coolness
The sweet miraculous drop of maple syrup

Let us envision….

Our children engaged in play
A solitary paddler gliding upriver
a white tailed deer stepping out of the woods
our own beautiful reflection
the smile of a friend.....
the eyes of a stranger.
Humans
Humans all around us who may be lost on their journey.

In our stillness, God, help us to remember how to take those steps towards accepting the changes in our lives knowing that sometimes you have to grieve a thousand times before you can inhale the refreshed scent of an old breeze. Help us to walk into the centre of our vulnerable holy space over and over again to touch upon the wound that weeps those trapped remembering tears so that the old stories of a loved one can be told again with a merciful heart and a smile. Help us help others who are in need of this support too.

Thank you God for surrounding us with those signs of renewal….. beacons which allow us to reflect upon our own transformations. Through our life experiences, we learn that we share the same feelings, similar moments of happiness and heartbreak. This is what blends our souls in a spiritual sense of oneness. We all know the feeling of hungry hope. You have provided us with this gift, God. Hope, you have taught us, is a companion of a broken spirit. It is the oxygen in the breeze that caresses our restless sufferings with tenderness. Hope reminds renewal to be patient with its re-emerging and teaches renewal that most of our personal growth will be invisible on the outside, but colourfully recognizable when we gaze inwardly to speak to You.

Through our suffering God, we are learning to let go…. To surrender our pain. Through surrendering, we are learning how interconnected we are with You with one another. Its good to feel loved in a much different way than perhaps we have ever felt before.

Forgive us dear God, for we are often slow to catch on because we tend to veer out into the wild and lose our way busy trying to deal with the events life throws at us. Please help us remember that what may feel overwhelming today will soften in the light of days to come. Please remind us God that renewal doesn't occur because of one event. It may be the spark that ignites the change in direction, but it is not the conclusion. Rather, it is the foundation we rely upon for support as we ride the waves of change, one wave at a time.

With your Guidance God, we will learn to walk aided and unaided........ to take risks while learning as much from our hurts as we do our triumphs. By so doing, we learn that we belong to a universe who shares the same feelings, who thrive and survive, who suffer and feel joy, who nurture and are nurtured by one another.

As pilgrims dear God, guide us to share a story with another, to have that conversation that feels too difficult to start, to use the gift of our senses so that we can appreciate the freshness of this season, to delight in the knowledge that we are unfinished beautiful human sculptures who know how to give love and kindness with respect.

May we leave here today with a lighter fullness in our walk, refreshed breath of the Holy Spirit and the energy to pass our goodness onto to others.