meaning....?

Blue on blue.

Letters spelling affirmation. 

High above the littered streetscape

Where homeless hearts in tattered disrepair 

Hand clap to enhance blood flow

To seek warmth.

Bravo!  You've survived another day.

Bravo!  Another coin drops into a hat....

Bold applause

Remember to clap.

Remember to pat yourself on the back.

For what?  

For surrendering spare change with false pride?

Perhaps these letters sneer in sarcasm 

Exclaiming the real truth. 

We can do better.

Bravo indeed.

This week's Photo theme is Letters.  Signs, signs everywhere signs.....  For more shots of the words that remind, rekindle, remark and sell, sell, sell ....... check out Carmi's place right HERE! 

The Year I Turned 50-Licious

Yesterday morning, I arrived at the diagnostic imaging department at the local hospital for an annual mammogram, grabbed a number and sat down. Routine.  No big whoop. Just one of those important tasks to accomplish in the day in the life....  

This is what I was thinking as I looked around at the other folks who were there for various x-rays, ultrasounds and boob looksees.  In  no time my number was called and I found myself sitting in front of the clerk as she verified my medicare number and home address in her computer, and made sure my name was on the list.  It was her last question that sent a sharp kick into my gut...... "And your next of kin is still............?"  I said "yes." 

Well, he still is legally and I sure as heck didn't want to complicate the intake interview while trying to figure out who my next of kin is now.  My kids aren't old enough.  My family live in another province.  Neither option was practical. So, I kept it simple.  "Yes."  The question and my answer flooded my thinking and feelings as I found myself sitting in a flimsy johnny shirt coldly wrapped around my naked torso,  by the door to where the machinery was located.  Alone. Processing my thoughts.  In a place full of foreign sounds, sickness and stress, ongoing paging for emergency doctors, and smells one only inhales in the stark reality of a hospital,  I felt the gut galloping shiver of vulnerability.  My stark reality mirrored my environment.  

I leaned back against the wall, closed my eyes and focused on breaths to take away the "reality hurt"  until a warm hearted woman with a welcoming Maritime lilt in her voice called my name.  It was my turn to have a few photos taken. My morbidly self absorbed thoughts quickly turned into wondering how in the hell they do that boob squishing procedure on anyone who wears an A or a B cup???? 

This is the year I turned 50.  From the moment after the clock struck midnight to ring it in when I stood feeling like a pariah beside my husband at a party and there was no loving kiss forthcoming to this very moment as I try to capture the words flying out of my fingertips on this frosty morning.......... the last one of 2010, it has been a year of awakening to loud thunderous change.  

Sometimes it has been so shockingly vibrant like when you get to the part in a mystery novel and all the pieces of the puzzle transform into BIG TRUTHS all at once.  Oh!  I can think of a few of those body churning events!  Though I'm trying to let go of them, they are still the ones that pound on my temples at 4 am with demonic pleasure from time to time.  Not nearly so often.  Not nearly so often.   

Most of the time, however, the thunderous change has been more like the WAKE UP surprise of POP Rocks sizzle bursting in your mouth. You know its going to happen.  You just don't know when. When it does? Your eyes open a little wider, while your first thought is........ "What is that all about???"  And,  "Why did I just put Pop Rocks in my mouth when I know how uncomfortable they make me feel?"  Sometimes someone slips a few of those candies into your tea when you're not looking.  There you are attending to a routine task and kapow! One of those damn things explode and you're caught speechless........for a second.  

"Your next of kin still is..........?"

This is life. It is a cache of awakening moments, some more seismic than others.  Some more life altering than others.  Mine aren't any different than anyone elses.  My feelings and thoughts are not unique.  It is what WE all share......... the ability to think and the blessing to FEEL always!  From the monumental hurts to the ecstatic orgasms, and all the little poetic symphonies that are the very thread that binds the whomping biggies together.  By sharing our hearts and minds, not only do we learn  important lessons from one another that guide us to LOOKING and FEELING from a different perspective....a different reality, we become a part of one another's tapestry. 

This is an awakened life unfolding.  I am who I am because of the experiences I have encountered, embraced, denied, refused, stumbled upon, viewed, processed, created, mourned, celebrated,  respected, rejected and reconciled.  Just like you.   We are offered up little Pop rock morsels.....events that seem inconsequential at first,  but end up providing awareness to where we are in our journeys as a means to process the thunder changes. Shifts happen even when you're least expecting it.  In the poetry of life.  

Yesterday, I texted a friend of mine briefly sharing the hospital moment with her.  She understood how it felt right away, and commented on how these moments makes one realize how the world registers you and how you see it differently too.   In fact, she is the one who has helped me throughout the year "see" how poignancy preys in the grace notes of life....  I told her that I realized it is the poetry of life, not the long storied prose that meaning is found.  Her response?  "What's a poem if not volumes of truth packed into a single glance?"  Blow me away!  Gotta love a friend whom you share wisdom text messages with that are poetry too! 

This year, the one when I turned 50?  Well, it has been jam packed full of events...... poignant, pathetic, pulsating..... life altering snippets.  I'm not at a point where I can say that I wouldn't change it if I could do it again.  That would be silly.  No one in their right mind wants to ever experience the deep gashes from being betrayed.  However, I have laughed with more gusto, and wept with more intensity than I have ever imagined.  I have been hugged more passionately, and cared for beyond what I ever thought I needed. Conversations that once skimmed the surfaces dove deep into heartfelt meaning.  Until this year, I didn't realize just how much we can grow from an original place of pain into a garden of beauty.  I have taken many risks, and every time I think of one I smile broadly because every single risk I took connected me to another beautiful human being and experienced some amazing adventures!  WOW!  

As well, I have inhaled air so beautifully thin as I have encountered a bouquet of spiritual compassion through the kindness of so many people in my life, and through the deeply quiet times I have been alone absorbing the goodness of a faith just waiting for me to embrace. Magical.  Blessed.  Loved.  Lovable.  Gee, I even learned that I am a bit sexy! Who knew?????  Yeah, despite the pliable sagging breasts and the hands that look a thousand years old, I've got a sexy factor happenin'!

I have learned so much..... and hope that I have been able to pass on some of my lessons........  

On this day, the last one of the year I turned 50-licious?  I feel strong and whole, weak as well as yearning. A contradiction I am, I am.   I see the poetry as truth in a single glance.  And I know now how I will answer the question of who my next of kin is........  It doesn't matter who the name is.  I walk with many.  I walk with you.   With a Holy Spirit to guide us along.  Aren't we lucky?

Bring on the Pop rocks!  Happy New Year. 

________________________________________

ps.  I have been keeping an eye on and a journal to capture many of these moments that have occured this year with the intention of pulling them together in a book......... I havent shared many of them on my blog because I haven't had a chance to digest them as much as I want to. Plus, I feel like when it is time to write it out fully, i want it to be fresh.  But, let me tell you, the majority of them are bloody hilarious! Absurdity rules, as does my dark humour.  Stay tuned!!!

life's reality

Pour yourself a glass of complications, 

life never comes with ease.  

As much as we strive for simplicity, 

it just ain't in our genes.  

You could say you want only simple things, 

I can say I want the same, 

but when it comes to human interaction, 

it never works out that way. 

Let me be touched by the simple gifts,

do not mire me in doubt.  

Don't let strings snag my spirit

when I am trying to live without. 

Crumple up your demanding neediness, 

I have no time for that. 

Then again, what's life without complications?

Its how we interact. 

Its how we interact.

It's how we interact.

Complications add the spice in life.

Its the elixir in a drink.

Its what heighens our awareness

It's what forces us to think.

Without seeming mass confusion, 

there be no need for clarity.

Pour yourself a glass of complications

Sip on life's reality. 

lying and sneaking and cheating, oh my.

 

Sad how we live in a society so corupt of the values we espouse but never apply.  Sad how we have it in ourselves a gene that makes us so interested in the pain of another.  We have grown accustomed to as well as numbed by the mean antics of others applied to another human being.  Have we tripped the light on empathy and respect?  Do we live in a place of denial where our vitriolic hurtful actions get cleansed by the neurotic delusions that what we do doesn't hurt another person.  Does voyeurism, no matter what the cost,  trump doing the right thing?  

Values, particularly the key ones tied to humanity and living a life where kindness, integrity faithfulness, loyalty, and love, seem like they have become fleeting thoughts (oh, that would be a nice idea our brains say) rather than applied actions.  There are so many bald face liars out there, its difficult to know who is an imposter and who isn't. 

Lying is an art and if you're good at it, my God you can fool anyone.  Except yourself.  Oh, sure you can carry on living in a place of denial.  You can surround yourself with others who believe your lies and grand illusions.  You can even talk yourself into believing another reality than what is the truth.  Heck, you can even play the role of victim so beautifully that you convince even the most sceptical being.  But one day?  The curtain will lift.  The most brilliant white light will be shining directly on you.  And all of a sudden, every grey hair, pock mark, scar, and wrinkle.... every shivering quivery lie, every moment you were sneaky, voyeristically snooping into another person's life just for a thrill will be visible to YOU!

Don't think you're invisible.  Don't ever believe other's are blind to the way you have chosen to live your life void of applying the values you so carefully collected every Sunday while attending church.  Oh!  You stopped attending??? You may have a beautiful sweet sounding voice.  Who knows?  You may always carry yourself surrounded by a breeze of supposed innocence so that many get pulled into your fake humility.  Just be aware that you are nakedly exposed......... take a look.  Mirror, Mirror.  

Justify.  Justify your actions.  Can you do it?  Why is it that people can rarely walk their talk?   Say one thing?  Do the right thing.  

Action ................ Reaction.   My turn...... I'm acting.

Lying and sneaking and cheating make me want to wretch.  

ps.  And to the three or so UNB readers who have been scouring my blog for extensive "visits" over the past couple of days?  I'm assuming you were looking for a voyeuristic buzz?  'm blogging this one especially for you.  Hope you enjoyed the posts you carefully summoned up from your workstations.  Hope it was titilating enough to take you away from what you should've been doing.  Working!  Shalom.

Hey Spirit......here I am.......

Recently, I read a "once upon a time long ago" fable about an Explorer who was travelling through unchartered territory.  He was obsessed and determined to be the first to forge into the mysterious unknown.  He gathered his belongings and hired three local tribesmen to be his Guides. 

They set out at daybreak on the first morning with a pace that hardly allowed time to eat a meal or to really look around at the new surroundings.  They walked until it was dark and set up camp.  The second day, the pace increased.  The Explorer kept looking forward slashing his way through the bush and missing out on the landscape, the vistas when the forests opened up.  He blindly walked right past a glorious waterfall cascading down from a spring fed stream....... The Guides kept up, carried his belongings, gave him water and food when he needed it.  This type of journey wasn't something they understood or were familiar with.  What was this Explorer searching for???

On the third morning just before dawn, the Explorer dressed and ready for another day of crazed travelling,  called to his Guides to tell them it was time to move on.  But the Guides remained sitting still.  With more agression in his voice, he demanded that they get up.  It was time to move on.  But, the Guides refused to move.  

"Why aren't you respecting my direction?" asked the Explorer

"We can't leave here," said one of the Guides acting at the spokesman."  "We must remain here so that our spirits can catch up to us."  

That's exactly how I feel.  I need to sit still and let my spirit catch up to me.  Does anyone else feel like that? 

To describe the pace of my life...........emotionally, physically, spiritually.... since March as a whirlwind seems like an understatement.  As much as I have taken time to be still, to reflect and to do all the things I need to do to let go of the poisonous feelings caused by the hurt, and as much as I get up every day with the determination to take it slowly.......   life doesn't work that way..... especially the one I seem to be leading!  

Leading?  NOT!  Well, OK, I take full responsibility for the choices I make and for many of the situations I find myself in, which is admittedly fed by my insatiable curiosity and hunger for learning and experiencing new things.  Granted,  I have had the blessed fortune to have experienced unbelievable life affirming, happenings that continue to be illuminating, challenging, and FUN, I am drained.  Exhausted.  To use a British term............. I am shattered.   Gobsmacked too!  I know that doesn't mean tired, but I love that word and I do feel it as well.  Absolutely fucking Gobsmacked by how my life seems to be evolving.  BRING IT ON!

I am in a good place.........no more shock in my system. That electricity jolting is gone.  I sat in the grief of my pain and shock............confronted it, cried in it, raged, swore, and blown my nose in it.  I've spent many nights pacing, writing, crying, laughing, reflecting, tossing and turning, praying, bargaining, denying, depressing, talking, sharing, listening, working, processing.  I have pushed through bad dreams, visual pictures in my head......felt such emotional pain especially some mornings when I wake up and realize that my marriage is no more.  Done.  Kaput.  Failed.  This has softened...... the hardness of reality has softened. 

I am now in a place where I feel lighter, where I am unstuck, where the blessings are so abundant!  My voice is back.  My inner strength is blazing in light!  I am strong for my kids.  I am strong for myself.  I am beginning to feel pretty again.  Even sexy.  Can I say that?  I havent felt sexy in a long long time. To quote that weird song about Gretzky being played ad nauseum on CBC Radio 2?  "Pretty bloody sexy, pretty bloody sexy....!"  ;) 

To be HERE right now in this amazing frame of mind and heart?  It is through much hard work and unbelievable unconditional support in order to let go of it...... this is why I am so damn tired.  I know there are many upheavals ahead, including a symbolic one this weekend when someone moves to town, just up the road for God's sake, I believe I am much more balanced than I expected to be at this point in the separation.  Still, I ask myself..........what the hell is that all about?  Why so close to the neighbourhood?  eeeewwwww!  Whatever.  I'm not a cat. I will not spray the territory.  But, for God's sake, this is a very large country!

There are many many events and situations I have no control over.  I may question it and wonder every now and then if God is just playing games again, I'm alright with that.  Surrendering is empowering as well as humbling. On the other hand, there are many many events I do have some control over.  If I continue to be aware of my own needs and those of my children, I will be just fine, and have some fun while I'm at it.  

In the meantime............what I need?  Time to rest, sleep, jump out of routine and let my Spirit catch up to me.  And that's what I plan to do........... let the wind carry my spirit across the waters, up  through the front door, down the hall and into my beautiful blue bedroom where I will waiting........

Let the universe unfold as it should.  Let it carry me in my Chestnut canoe (I wish!)  down through the river currents without once having to use a hard "C" stroke. 

Hey Spirit?  Come over and let's dance.  I'll be waiting........... the music is on and the wine is chilling.  I think you're gonna enjoy this place I call home.

cloudy clarity.

One of the most difficult daily tasks I must do right now as I push through this home mess is go to work. But, I must and I do, and I have. Actually, I kind of see the imperative structure of my daily routine and the kind of work that I do as both a blessing and a curse. Counselling is a tiring job on a good day. Counselling when you are in dire need of resolving your own shit is whole other kettle of fish.

Apart from the sheer exhaustion coupled by the surging electricity that seems to wrestle inside my body, my mind is not as reliable a tool these days, nor is my emotional heart.  I'm doing my best.  And when I'm doing my best its usually in the mornings.  By late afternoon, I tend to bottom out. I must remind myself that this time of day was never great to begin with.  Now though, its like the fatigue and the reality of things finally merge somewhere in the pit of my stomach and win. The wind is gone. Kicked right out of me.  The fuel tank is on empty and all I want to do is turn off my brain (not possible) and find a really really comfortable cave to crawl into.   Then, I go make myself a cup of tea, have a good cry, phone someone, talk it out, blow my nose and suck it up.  Most of the time.   

Counselling as a profession is tough.  I love it, but I am aware of the ramifications of it.  As much as I have learned to leave the spillage in my office, when one isn't up to full speed, it can seep into your pores.  Also, the concentration level required to be fully present for someone else when your own heart is broken is next to impossible.  Given that I was in full flight crisis and anxiety most of the time since Christmas trying to figure out what was going on, and trying to remedy it as best as I could (and not succeeding at all), this has been a long long winter of struggling. 

Ok, this is one downer of a post. I am getting to the upbeat part.  Really I am.

As I look back on some of the situations presented to me, the level of crisis, the stories, the suffering and confusions shared with me, especially over the past three weeks, I can honestly say that I have probably provided some of the best counselling support I have ever provided.  Its also safe to say as well that a few of the posing issues have been the most challenging too.  

As well, I have been confronted by similar stories and complications that I am personally dealing with over and over again that it seems like I'm living in the theatre of the Absurd.  I can't tell you how many times I've been left dumbfounded sitting listening to the stories, wondering if God is just a big jokester in the sky, sending these folks to me at a time like this.  Then, I recognize the opportunity for learning.  Big learning, big reflections........ and opportunities to receive perspective.  I am now coming from a very different place when I'm counselling someone else.  

To be fully present like I need to be AND want to be, I must dig much deeper from within my pooled up strength, commonly known as resilience.  To clear the heavy fog that pulls me into despair if I want it to, I must scramble and kick at the same time while breathing.  Shift my thinking, and the fog lifts.  The fogs lifts and my feelings are in a place of openness.  As I have stated before, the secret to counselling is knowing that the counsellor learns just as much and often more so than they ever disperse.  That's the key and that's what inspires me to trudge along to work everyday.  Insight is a masterful gift, and I've learned that it comes best when you are open to interacting with someone much deeper than surface dwelling can ever offer. 

In the past three weeks, I have had the honour and the good fortune to have met human beings who have shown resiliency, vulnerability, feistiness, sadness, anger, confusion.  I have met with lost souls, Prodigal sons, resentful individuals, amazing survivors and the broken ones who were on the verge of giving up.  People who have met with me simply to gather information about some of the courses offered at the College have comfortably (and surprisingly for them and for me) shared their histories and more times than not, their tears.  Fifteen minute meetings have turned into full hour sharing.  WHOA!    Blessings.  No curses here. 

What is different than before is that after I am fully present in a counselling session?  Not only do I need more time to regroup and catch my breath in between sessions,  I almost completely forget most of the details and the wide ranging sharing immediately.  Including names.  This is not like me.  I have an elephant memory.  Usually.  So, I'm trying to learn to jot down key points because I've been caught a couple of times when a person emails me or drops in to talk again and I look at them like they are a new face.  But, when I'm present and in the heat of the counselling session, count on me to be RIGHT THERE sitting in that pool of feelings.  

Ok, I remember some of the details............... here's one.

Yesterday, a  young guy showed up all frazzled and wanting to sign up for a course right away.  I started asking him a few questions just to see if he was ready to take this step, but also to see if the course he's interested is the right fit for him and if he had the qualifications etc. In no time, a list of very complicated life situations, all linked to the basics like finances, housing issues, chaos at home floated up to the top.  I have met many just like him, especially when I was working the front lines at the income assistance office.  So, I cut to the chase with him............ not in a mean way, but in a direct way,  pointing out that as much as he WANTS to take a course to make better money etc, he would fail at it if he didn't take the time now to get other parts of his life in order.  What a MESS!  From there, I suggested a few steps, while reassuring him that the people he needed to connect with to help him were once colleagues.  

Tears came quickly to his eyes as he told me that in the year that he's been truly scrambling looking for guidance, I had given him more in the five minutes we had met than anyone else.  What an amazing thing to be told.   We began to look at his needs one at a time, while he figured out what his priorities are.  What needs attention.  The hour we spent together was intense.  It shifted him into action, and it sent shivers through me. 

Why??

The messages I shared with him, I heard myself.  I was learning too.  Insight stuff.  Reminders.  Me in a mess, he in a mess.  Different messes, but similar gameplans.  Slow down!! Recognize your needs, prioritize, dig out of the chaos one day at a time.  Remind yourself that you do have good goals.......... that your dreams are reachable...... in time. He left with homework and a couple of doable first steps.   I concluded our meeting jotting down my homework on his behalf so I would not forget it.  Then, I wrote in my own journal....  :)

A blessing more than a curse this job of mine is.  I just have to continue to write it down so I don't forget why I get up every morning and make my way there.   For now, it's time for bed.  Tomorrow is another day, fresh with no mistakes.  Guaranteed there will be many of those. Why?  Because I've learned from a wonderful friend (whose a wee bit gouty right now.....get well Pip!  xx)  .... WE are all beautiful in our imperfections.  

Another scar please?  Make it pretty for me God? thanks.

honesty is overrated

If honesty is the best policy, why is it that most people really don't want to hear the truth?  Deviate from the comfort of a well worn script, from an anticipated "feel good" response in order to voice honest thoughts and feelings, you risk rejection.  That's how I see it. That's how I've experienced it. The more honest I am with how I'm feeling or what I may be struggling with, the bigger the risk I take in turning someone away.  It has happened time and time again.  Why is it that I strike a nerve in someone else, so much so that they can't handle listening to my interpretation of where I am at...........of who I am?

I keep trying.  It's not working.  Honesty is not a commodity that is marketable.  I've learned that much.  I'm also an expert on how rejection feels.  How about you?  Do you know how rejection feels?  YOU DO? Than, we have something in common.

Oh yeah, I see the absurdity in this.  I am a counsellor for goodness sakes.  I hear the pit of someone's honest voice daily.  My job, one that I thoroughly embrace, is to receive it and to help them ply away all of the hurtful feeling skins that coat until the honesty is located.  There is nothing more I can do but to offer my presence.  Sure it hurts to feel someone else's hurt, but it doesn't kill me. I don't absorb it into my own.  My job is to reflect, to ask questions...........to help the other person think it through and find the words to describe the honest ripe feelings.  I try not to judge.  I try to affirm.  However, when I put myself in the "other chair" in order to tell the truth about where I am with respect to my thoughts and feelings............to voice my honesty, most people run for the hills!

So, it must be me.  It must be how I approach being honest. Somehow my honesty touches a chord in the other person?  Maybe I'm too heavy handed or that my needs seem too monumental to help me with?  Maybe I surprise them with my response to their "how are you" question. Perhaps my feelings are too dramatically expressed, so much so that I frighten people with my tone?  I come on too strong? Am I too needy?  My honesty smothers? I really don't know why I seem to have this effect on people. But it is a consistent response, so I best look into it because let me tell you...... it hurts.

While I am sorting this honesty dilemma............can you help me out a bit?  Please don't ask me how I am if you can't handle my honesty.  Be aware that how YOU interpret how I am feeling is through your own lens.... check your interpretations of what you think i need or what you assume my agenda may be. I really don't need to feel guilty anymore for "making" you "feel" uncomfortable.  If you feel smothered, its your choice.  Not mine. 

got an agenda?

if you're going to have an agenda, at least make it friendly.

this is the journal my friend Heather made me to take on my travels.

It seems to me that one of the worst inventions humans ever created was an agenda.  I have one.  You have one.  My neighbour has one.  So does yours.  They come in all colours, shapes and sizes.  Book form, electronic, or a calendar posted on the kitchen wall..... we live by our agendas.   Some don't share theirs AT ALL.  They keep it all tucked away in their brains and let it fuel their mission. They remind us of what we want and what we must do to get what we want.  They hold our schedules, timetables, deadlines, appointments so we don't have to think about them.  Those navigators are necessary to free up our minds in order to pursue pot of gold goals.  You know, some people even testify that their agenda is a Godsend.  hmmmm............ Can't live without an agenda. 

Isn't that crazy?  Can you see why I suggest they are the worst invention ever?  No.......... Well, here's more.  They drive our choices, our days, our lives and make us single mindedly blind to the agenda of another.  You see, my agenda is more important than yours.  Isn't that right?  What I want is WAY more important than what you want.  I know this for a fact because I have a full agenda.  Yours has gaps. In fact. I know most of your agenda and it's ridiculous! Who in their right mind wants those things???

So often I know my agenda clashes with yours, but since I need to be rigid in my pursuit to get what I want accomplished, I'm not really concerned what yours holds. Mine's more important than yours.  My agenda. All MINE. And the more I rely on it...........on the so VERY important items that drive my mission to succeed, to WIN, the more psyched I am to do whatever it takes.  I have absolutely NO TIME to get to know you..... I'm way too busy getting my needs met.

At night, when we finally collapse in a heap on the couch after a full agenda day........of pushing to get what we want, to be recognized with email accolades, coffee mug prizes and air mile bonuses for trips we never have time for; when we let our guard down as we sink into a soft landing pad after clashing with other people intent on jousting for their pie of the agenda pie....... silent reality hits just for a scary split second.  Alone, except for our selfish attitudes.  It is only then we have the opportunity to address what is really important in life, but oddly is missing on the pages of our agenda scribblings ........ love, friendship, compassion, serving others, connecting, sharing.  

Then we push that aside.... pffffffft to that!  WE've got better fish to fry than that mushy stuff.  Let some do gooder social work type deal with that crap.  Besides, I've got church services booked in my trusty agenda.  I can listen to that sermon on Sunday.  Same old, same old.......

Sadly, the gas tank is empty anyways.  After a long day of working our agenda, we have no energy left.   Too tired to reflect.  Too tired to look in the mirror.  Too tired to care. So, we uncork the bottle of wine and pour ourselves a glass to toast ourselves as we close the book on another day. 

Gee....it sounds like one hand clapping.

invasion of the body scanners....

Like the rest of the world, I was left with horrifying "what ifs" in my head after the attempted terrorist attack on Christmas Day, and was very relieved that it ended the way it did.  Since then, the intense knee jerk reaction to the event by politicians and the media has been very bizarre indeed.  Baffling too.  I'm just glad I'm not travelling these days to the United States.  It's not worth the hassle nor the anxiety.

We've seen the stories of the long line ups at the airports.  New carry on bans have kicked in, leaving everyone completely confused as to what you can or cannot take on board. My heart goes out to the frequent flyers whose successful work weeks are dependent on the swift arrival, departure and connections process....  God help them! 

Pat downs and frisking is the order of the day.  Hysteria has permeated the planet.  One guy on a suicide mission has altered travel as we knew it. One guy, whose Islamic terrorist ambitions were documented prior to the incident has rattled the nerves of the world!  We're now about to be invaded by body scanners. Canada just announced the purchase of 44 new scanners to be used in the 8 biggest airports in the country.  Does anyone else see this new approach to combating Islamic terrorism as absurd?  It's ABSURD!

Have we not just added yet another layer of security on top of a security system that needs to be fixed?  If the communication of information had been working properly, wouldn't we have picked up on this guy and not let him on a plane?  I mean, his own father called the authorities to let them know his son was on a mission to kill.   Shouldn't we be FIXING that problem rather than adding more to it?  We have the technology to ensure the authorities have the information.  I completely agree with identifying certain countries as high risk.  Profiling already happens informally.  Why not formalize it?  Why should EVERYONE be put through the same intense scrutiny?

I can't help but think Bin Laden and his buddies are in some cave giggling their faces off.  Chaos and fear was triggered in our collective emotional sensitivities and we've reacted by playing right into their hands.   We are now being invaded by the body scanners.  Is this the equivalent of street proofing?  Both provide a false sense of security. There is no guarantee that x-raying every single traveller will stop all other terrorist attempts.  What happens when THIS fails?  Do we strip down to our unbuffed buffs? Nude flying?  Starkers Airlines? 

Hey, maybe thats what we should do.  Maybe its time to embrace our lovely wrinkly banged up bodies by stripping down and flying in the buff.  Pack away your clothes and accessories.  Put away your self conscious worries.  No need to spend all that money on body scanners.  Flaunt your flesh!

Crazy!  This world has gone absolutely bonkers.  Where does the insanity stop?  How DO WE stop it?

That crazy moon.......

 

On this day, the first of December, I was mooned.  Continuously.....

This morning under a deep greyblue dramatic sky I spotted the moon glowing in the west over the river horizon.  Caught by predawn reflections, it was on fire....... a large golden orb of light so grand it seemed like a shining illusion.  I've never seen anything quite like it........didn't quite believe my own eyes.   It only lasted a few minutes and then it was gone...... the lit up moon disappeared.

When daylight arrived it reappeared, dressed in white.  This moon hung on high all day long ......... or was it a reflection?  The skies held onto a robin's egg blue shade, with clouds so perfectly puffy it felt like the vista was really a canvas creation rendered by an artist.  It didn't seem real.  

At the end of my workday, around 5pm, I hopped in my car to head home.  The sky was an indigo blue and the perfectly puffy clouds had all but disappeared.  Perched on top of the silver metal roof, which adorns a big rambling blue house was the moon again.  Round full......... persistantly bold, framed by the brick chimney and the roof pitch like it was wedged in there ..... like it was trying to play hide and seek.

By the time I had to turn around and head back out into the December evening to teach my Counselling class, that crazy moon had unhooked from the rooftops and floated up over the river glimmering in city lights.  I drove east towards it, hoping we would meet up face to face.  But it always stayed the same distance away from me.  How did it do that? 

Tonight, as I walked to my car after teaching my class on campus,  I looked for the moon again.  It didn't disappoint me.  There it was, glowing a flourescent hum inside a midnight blue sky high above the old oak trees.... their bare branches silouetted by lamplight.  I swear it winked at me. 

 Hey sassy moon!  Tomorrow you'll be full.  Then what? The full monty??

And the point is...............???

Goofy homework assignment completed...... written by Mr. Twisted Sense of Humour. Typed by his Absurdist mother.

Wanted: Dead or Alive
Max........for stealing the last chocolate chip cookie
Age: 12
Height: Short for a tall person
Weight: None of your business
Religion: The Toronto Maple Leafs Holy Church of Hockey.

His hair is the colour of the bark on a maple tree. His eyes are as blue as the berries that grow in his Great Uncle Max’s fields. His nose, located in the middle of his face is round like a looney. When he smiles, large craters form in the middle of his cheeks.

His family are notoriously late for dinner. His sister is sometimes seen on the stage pretending to be someone else. His hilarious father known for his knowledge of music and rhythm but lack of singing skills is also known for stealing chocolate chip cookies. His mother, once the organized person in the family has become obsessed with blogging and taking photos of people’s legs.

They all love hockey ….. except his sister.
They all love The Simpsons …. except his mother
They all love fiddle music …. except his father.
None of them like liver, smells or roadkill.
All of them love beachcombing for buried treasure and bits of rotting seaweed.

You may find Max shooting hoops or playing road hockey with his friends, listening to his I-Pod, practising guitar, (insert a mother rolling her eyes....yeah, lots of guitar practising going on here!!) watching 30 Rock on TV, or tossing the tennis ball for his beloved dog, Lily. However, you will most likely find Max planning his GREAT ESCAPE to Costa Rica as a notorious member of the CISV delegation. Psssst……Departure date is December 26th. If you don’t find him before then, you can arrest him at the airport before he embarks on his month long adventure. He will be wearing a navy blue hoodie with the words “All You Need is Love” written on the front.

If homework can't make you laugh, then what's the point of it???

where do you think i am?

I usually have the ability to write without feeling a sense of wondering how someone is going to react or question what I write about. The words come....I grab them from the air around me .... I add a photo, a quote, a piece of a poem ..... I format it and then I publish it. Once its published, I usually feel like it's finished for now. If it resonates with you in a way that adds a kink into your thoughts, or stirs you in a way that you can relate to what I've written about, I'm pleased. If it doesn't.... well, then I don't hear from you. It's fine either way. What makes me very uncomfortable is when I get the feeling that what I have written is being analyzed as a way to understand me.

Though all of what I have shared on this site is first draft, I haven't returned to many pieces to tweak it in anyway. An idea stews in my head and then finds its way through my fingertips and out into cyberspace. Yes, I own the work. It DEFINITELY has my fingerprints and personality all over it. But, it is only a glimpse of who I am and/or what I'm thinking and feeling and/or sensing and seeing.

There is a personal sense that I am a vessel of some kind, unattached to a specific piece I've posted. This happens only when I am free of second guessing myself...... when I don't have those stupid thoughts about how someone is going to interpret it as what I may be tackling personally. When I can't take a step back from the topic and let the words flow, I get clogged up. Right now, I am clogged up. There are many ideas floating in the abyss of my brain, but heck if I can finish them. Too personal? Maybe. Too intense? Maybe. Too open to bizarre interpretations that perhaps I'm on some kind of radically driven religious journey that for some reason makes you uncomfortable? Stop looking at me. Start looking at yourself.

Sure I write about my own experiences, but often I will tackle a topic but place it in the first person so that it may be received by another more resonantly than it would be if it was posted as some kind of lecture. It's a style I'm comfortable with. If I appear to "own it" than it seems to normalize and take the edge off of what may be an emotionally charged topic. Of course there are times when I share a story that is uniquely my own. This happens when my confidence is at its peak, when I don't feel a sense of being "watched" or when I'm not feeling self conscious. Right now, this is how I'm feeling..... and I don't like it.

Sometimes I will start a piece based on a personal experience, but then take it beyond the event I have been involved in. My writing is normally a blend of my life observations, my personal interests that I may be attempting to learn more about, my opinions, and what a friend or an acquaintance has shared with me. Whomever has been reading my stuff for a while knows that there are certain themes which obviously resonate with me. That's only natural. Why would I explore topics that hold no meaning or importance to where I may be at in my journey? I don't believe anyone can completely excuse themselves from what they choose to create. Even if it is a journalistic piece published as a news story, the personality always shines through as do opinions. However, writing is a vehicle for the expression of one's imagination as well as one's truth. Illusions and truth........ now there's a topic!

Blogging is a venue used for many reasons. I originally started this blog as a way to express my political opinions through clarifying lens. I intended to expand my own "awareness" of issues affecting both the community I live in and the world around me, while sharing my thoughts and feelings to perhaps stir another. It quickly morphed into something else, as I opened my head and heart to delving into the human stories of struggles and accomplishments I had accumulated throughout my life.

Soon, it became a vehicle to integrate what I had learned with what I was learning. I found myself in the middle of a spiritual awakening of sorts, one that is both oddly convoluted and not in anyway formalized. Given how FULL I felt of stories and unanchored thoughts (the ones which aren't attached to reality because they had never been formally put into words....) blogging under the title of "awareness" seemed like a good place to park them.

I may seem to be a person without boundaries, willing to share everything stirring inside me. Believe me, I am not. Fiercely independent, I actually have very strong boundaries and only allow a small select few past the line. I am open, but I have a personal side to me that you don't know about. The values I hold on tight to, the ones which I use as a guide .... the same ones which trip me up when I don't feel them coming from another person, are often what I write about. Respect, honesty, integrity, a growing faith in God, independence, equality, life long learning, love .... these are what I believe in. Does that make me different than others? Does writing about these topics make me unbalanced or off kilter from the rest of the world? NO. In fact, they are pretty darn universally held onto. I write on topics that are generally avenues most people are delving into. So, why do I feel like I'm being examined? And why does it bother me so much? Because I am a private person. I only choose to share what I want to. Because it is very large gulf between analyzing the topic and analyzing the writer.

I have been writing a piece I was hoping to share on this site for about a week now. It's long and its personal.... perhaps too revealing and maybe that's what is bothering me too. This may not the venue for it. I don't know yet. I'm too self conscious right now. I'm also thinking that blogging is not where I should be writing because so often what I write about gets misinterpreted by others, or worse, makes them feel uncomfortable about where I may be at.????? It's a weird feeling to think that who I am and what I am sharing is causing others to question my mental health, when in fact I am feeling very much at ease with where I am. To have to justify myself with "I'm fine, really I am" like a mantra is not kosher. To have to justify that the path I am taking is really quite normal and and that the DIScomfort is with the reader and not the writer is not where I want to put my energy.

So, I will hobble along wondering where I am with blogging.... but where I am as a human being? Exactly where I want to be. If you're uncomfortable with that place, then perhaps its a good time to turn it back on yourself and ask why YOU are uncomfortable with it. It's not my issue.

Illegal Smile......

Father forgive us for what we must do,
You'll forgive us
We'll forgive you
We'll forgive each other 'til we both turn blue
And we'll whistle and go fishin' in heaven....... LOVE IT!!!

If ever there was/is a performer whose songs I can rely on for a smile when all else has failed, it is John Prine. Whether its a grinning acknowledgement to one of those "had to be there" moments in my past, an ear to ear smile that greets the rest of my body with a hearty handshake, I can count on him to produce the goods. Then, there are the heartripping ballads.....pure poetry which captures the complexities of the ordinary in a manner which raises it to our awareness.

I guess that's why I love his music so much. Its gritty, real and grabs me by my roots. Sometimes his songs are a silly as bag of hammers and sometimes they are as broken as a hard luck tear. Observant, quirky, yet with a steel edge to his stories he has a way of opening up his own life ruminations for anyone who cares to step into them.

Tonight, I have a date with Mr. Prine. I'm a happy enchilada....!!!!

You may see me tonight with an illegal....it don't cost very much, but it lasts a long while...

where's the party?

My friend Charles Leblanc was invited to attend a gathering in his honour this morning at the local courthouse. He supposedly "earned" this invite because he crossed onto the lawn of the New Brunswick Legislature in April to document the unfolding demonstration of concerned voters who were protesting against closing MacTaquac Park during the winter months. As with many other protests and rallies, our most famous New Brunswick blogger wanted to capture the emotion, the clashing and the stories behind it all. This is what he does and does WELL. This is what drives some folks CRAZY. My "in your face, ask too many questions, tell it like it is, take a slew of pictures, ADHD" friend attended the rally in April and was promptly arrested for trespassing and breach of whatever. You see, he was banned from the grounds in 2006.

In April 2009, after hundreds of visits to the Legislature and dozens of interviews with politicians and other muckymucks....many of which have been posted on his blogsite and on Youtube, someone decided to arrest him! It made no sense to me then, and it certainly makes no sense to me today. Consequently, Charles Leblanc was invited to a gathering at the courthouse in his honour today..... TODAY was the day. And guess what? His name wasn't on the list. Because of this little glitch....his name could not be called out loud. Did those folks who make the courthouse guest list up not see the big COUNTDOWN clock on Charles' blog?

So, what is that all about? Obviously there must've been some planning discussions behind the big wooden door on that cold day in April that the DAY had come to arrest an unsuspecting Monsieur Leblanc as soon as he arrived with his trusty camera and his effervescent directness to document the event. Wouldn't ya think? Or was it some random decision to cuff the guy and take him away, thereby putting a huge damper on the real story let alone the concerted efforts of the MacTacquac Park supporters? Either way, there must've been at least a little bit of discussion that the act of arresting Charles would automatically prove to be a political hot potato and would hit the media sideways.?? Yes? No? I mean, isn't this the same dude who took on the SJ Police force to argue his credentials as a verified media rep. after they confiscated his camera a while back? Isn't this the same person who made the National news by having the guts (or the craziness) to force the issue thereby moving the role of Blogger up a few notches on the journalism food chain?

Did someone think they could arrest Monsieur Leblanc without no one noticing. If a tree falls in the forest, will anyone notice it? Ah....well....Charles would. He'd be yelling TIMBER in both official languages while taking photos and riding his bike out of there. !!! His voice and his manner....and what he does has taught us to listen and to SEE when a tree falls. We notice now. We notice. And if we DONT notice, Charles barks and bellows until we wake the frig UP!

Action = Reaction.

Cause = Effect.

Confused....this is the word Charles used today as he stepped out of the courthouse when he realized his name wasn't on the docket. I'd be mighty confused too, and a wee bit stirred. He has been left with no direction, no explanation, no closure on the whole debacle. I don't see anything right about this whatsoever. Is he on the list or not? Is he charged with anything or not? Can someone clear this up? Puhlllleeeeze!

As much as he has the balls of a brave warrior and the yappiness of a pitbull, he also has another side to him too. The HUMAN side. As much as Charles has documented and played this story up on his blog (and of course he would.....) he also has other stories he works on too. The HUMAN stories. Hardly a soul pays attention to the other stories unfolding..... Charles does and he has introduced us to many of them....people, places, events, the issues of the marginalized....the joyful and the most sorrowful of them all..... as he learns about them himself. He's not afraid to put it all out there. By so doing, he stirs up hornets nests and forces many to discuss them. It's a good, good thing. He pays attention. And you know what, he reaches out to others more than you will ever know. And all of those people KNOW and are grateful. I know I am. And I know of a few others..... :)

His heart is huge. His heart is what leads him. Charles is truly a person no one forgets....

And yet...someone forgot to put his name on the list for the gathering at the courthouse??

So, my friend..... let me be the one to announce you.....

Hey Crazyman Charles!! Come out to play!! Bring your glove and we'll toss the ball around. I know a great locale...it's across the street from the Beaverbrook Art Gallery. Know it? Well, of course you do. You pitched a tent there one summer didn't you?

ps.....Hey Charles...You know how you told me all winter long that good things happen to good people? You were right. Now, I pass this message back to you. Good things happen to good people....especially to those like YOU who do good things for others. It's your turn.

certainty

certainty.....

clings to the desirous stalking of a matinee matron

wraps around vapid preaching from the pulpits of prey

smothers healthy doubters

silences "what if" whisperers

douses the flame of a new idea

clamps down on temptation

tackles fools on hills

dampens the dance of destiny

fights for the podium to face the masses of firm believers.

no questioning

no enlightening

no thinking

intellectual pondering need not show up.

For God's sake don't use your brain!

certainty has NO time for absurdity

certainty has NO patience for the slow meandering pontificator

Certainty has no room for wasteful choking on undigested ruminants.

Swallow it whole....or go hungry.

And if this isn't how you want to view things,

may i introduce you to....

humility and doubt?

just don't let certainty know they're around

the taximan and the lost colonial

This is a true story....one I've been holding onto until the end of this year because it was so special and life affirming for me that I thought it would be smiling reflection on a year of ups and downs. It's a bit long for a blog post, but I think you'll enjoy it if you have the time to read it. I have told this story verbally and have shared a shorter version it in a couple of emails. I'm happy to now have the opportunity to capture it in full here.
The Taximan and the Lost Colonial

One Saturday, late afternoon last May, I found myself on a train bound for Romford after spending two wonderful days in Londontown with my blogfriend Katie getting to know one another and seeing what seemed like the whole city on foot. We had filled our short time together with as much living and sharing as we could live and in person. We hit as many London hot spots as we could while we walked and talked and walked and talked....Trafalgar Square, Picadilly, 10 Downing Street, Big Ben, Portobello, Notting Hill, Covent Garden (for a wonderful Italian dinner with Pip and Joan on the Friday night), Camden, Kensington, Soho.....and a couple of places in between.

By the time we said our goodbyes, Katie running to catch the last flight home to Guernsey and me catching the tube and train back to the Wilsons Mansion in Romford where my emerald friend Pip resides with the love of his life Joan and their infamous cat Zig, I was filled with a multi sensory collection of feelings....and a little bit of fatigue. It was a good kind of tired....a smiling kind.

Once I checked the subway map to verify the connection I needed to make to catch the train to Pip's house, I sat down and began reflecting on the whirlwind two days. It was somewhere between Victoria Station and the train connection when I realized I had neglected to write down Pip and Joan's home address in my journal. I knew I had it...on a piece of paper somewhere, and I recalled I had made sure both my husband and my mother had all of my travel particulars via email, but it dawned on me that somewhere along the line I hadn't transferred it into my book.

At first it was only a wee bit disconcerting. I knew I was going to be arriving to an empty Wilson's Mansions except for the infamous Zig the coolcat to greet me. Pip was away in Belfast for two days, and Joan was at a cricket match that afternoon, to be returning home that evening. They had given me my own key just in case I was there before Joan. It was up to me to make my way from the train station to my destination.....all of about a 10 minute walk.

My sense of direction is something I rely on all the time. I had never been lost before and had always been able to find my way through many cities. Heck I had just navigated London England for goodness sakes! My job too takes me into the backwoods of this province, down half hewn roads where addresses are sometimes dubious and had never been lost. In fact, I had always thought that if ever there was a reality show made for someone like me it was the Amazing Race. Consequently, my confidence kept me hopeful that I could find my way.

Besides, this wasn't the first time I was going to be arriving at their house. In fact, we had journeyed from the station into the city and back already together. Pip had been clear in his directions as he drove me to the station only the day before. I relied on the fact that it would look and feel familiar as soon as I stepped off that train and onto the platform. No problem, I thought as I settled into my seat observing the people around me, I'll figure it out, and if worst comes to worst, I just need to access my email from somewhere to access the address. Or, call my Mom in Canada. I could always call my Mom.

As soon as I stepped off the train, however, and looked around at a quickly emptying platform, I knew I was screwed. Between the time Pip had originally dropped me off and the moment I found myself with a backpack full of choice souvenirs accumulated that day, I had saturated my brain with sites and sounds and new memories. It had pushed away any clear memories of where I was supposed to be going. The fact that I didn’t have the address and that Pip and Joan weren’t home? Well, that made it all the more sticky a situation.

There were two exits from the platform. To the right was a carpark where we had parked a couple of nights before to head into the city for a Brick Lane curry dinner. To the left was where I had been dropped off the day before with specific directions from my BHP host. I chose to go left. The only knowledge I had left in my saturated noggin was the name of the street and that it was a well travelled one. Figuring if I could just get to the street, I could find my way, I found myself standing at the exit completely turned around and lost. One look at the cars arriving on the wrong side of the street, and I knew my sense of direction was completely devastated. I headed out in search of a store or restaurant where I could some help, wondering what these crazy people drive on the wrong side of the road anyways.

Around the corner was a convenience store. I entered the quiet establishment ready to close for the evening, went right up to the counter and explained my situation, and asked for a telephone book. The owner’s grasp of the English language was minimal so after a bit of charades, he retrieved a massive tomb full of yellow pages and told me that was all he had. No white pages....No computer there either…..or not one he was planning to allow a wayward Canuck access to. Dismissed, he told me to go back to the train station and hail a cab. Fat lot that was going to do if I didn’t have the address!

With no other choice, I did as I was told and made my way over to a little shack office where three busy people sat taking phone orders for taxis and waited my turn. It was starting to get dark. There was no way I was going to traipse through unfamiliar streets on my own once the sun went down. The thought of calling my Mom whisked through my head again.


“Can I help you?”

“Hi….I’m from Canada and I'm lost." (YES, I was going for the empathy jugular) "I’ve lost the address of the home where I’m supposed to go. I was wondering if you have a phone book in there I could borrow to look up the address?”

Laughing and cockney friendly, …. “We take incoming calls here, duck, we have no need for a telephone book, sorry about that….” YES the man called me duck! I could tell that I had made for an interesting blip in their monotonous evening in call centre hell.

“Any chance you have a computer in there? I know the address is on an email I sent. If I could just......”

Laughing harder…. “Look at this place, dear! The only technology we have are these phones! Do you know the name of the street?” (The people standing around waiting for their taxis and waiting in the queue behind me must've thought I had completely lost my mind. I pushed the thought away, but continued to feel very very small.)

“Yes....ummmmm. Maybe you could order me a cab and if I can get to the street, I’ll recognize the house.”

“Sure duck. It' ll be here in a few minutes. Go stand over by the curb and it will pull up there.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your help. I can't believe I've done this!….” I say smiling, feeling embarrassed by my stupidity and situation.

"Don't worry, it'll work out. The taximan will be able to help you. Good luck."

It seemed like an eternity before a taxi pulled up to the curb. By then, I had shored myself up with a bit of self talk……… “you wanted an adventure….you wanted to be challenged, take it as it is and if all else fails, you can go stay in a hotel or find a pub and drink all night…. I can always call home....I wasnt that far away.....” It helped. Confidence that I’d sort it out returned and I laughed at the thought of my Mom's reaction to a phone call from her eldest daughter across the pond asking for a street address.

I opened the front door of the cab. My eyes met the eyes of a friendly man of retirement age who looked like he just came off the set of Coronation Street. He looked FAMILIAR, albeit because of a TV show! Do you know how grateful I was to see a father figure who most likely lived in the area all his life that looked like he grew up on Cornation Street?? I know, I know....big assumptions, but what a friendly jovial looking face! Not knowing whether there were standard rules about whether or not one can sit up front….

“Hi. Would it be alright if I sat in the front seat.”

“Sure you can,” he said smiling.

As I clambered in, I held out my hand. “Hi! I’m Dana."

“Nice to meet you Dana. I’m Henry. Where are we headed?"

"Nice to meet you too Henry. You know what? I don't know where we're headed, Henry. I’m lost. I don’t know the area. I’ve lost the address of where I am supposed to go. I know the name of the street though and if you could get me there, I’m pretty sure I’ll recognize it and the house.”

"What is the name of the street, dear?"

“B****wood,” I respond.

“Upper B****wood, B****wood, or B****wood Common?”

“Did you guys run out of names for streets? Oh my God, Henry I don’t have a clue! Are they all really close to the station because I know we aren’t very far away from the house from here?”

“Yes, they are, but that’s alright we’ll find it,” Henry reassured me while laughing at my comment.

“Thank you,” I said as I put my trust in this man's hold.

As we drove off, we began a conversation sharing bits of our lives…..where he had travelled in Canada, what I was doing in Romford, what he used to do for a living, what I did etc. It seemed almost normal! In no time, however, I realized we weren’t on the right B****wood street. None of the buildings looked familiar at all. I noticed a couple of restaurants and wondered aloud if they would have the internet. I could retrieve the address that way. Henry replied:

“I doubt it and I don’t think there are any internet cafes around here either.”

“I can’t believe how ridiculous I feel about this Henry,” I admitted as I gazed out at a darkening city landscape completely foreign to me. “I think we need to try another one of those streets. This isn’t it.” I was starting to lose my optimism, sunk in the stupidity of my situation. Changing the subject.... “Do you know that reality show, the Amazing Race? Do they have that show here?”

“I don’t think I've heard of it, Dana. Big Brother's the one people watch here. What’s it about?” he asked as he turned the taxi around and headed to the next street with the same name……

“Well, it’s a worldwide scavenger hunt. You have to navigate different directions and modes of transportation with a partner and you compete against 9 other teams. They eliminate one pair each week until the last team standing wins a million dollars. Of all the reality shows out there, this is the one I always thought I’d have a good chance at and now look at me! I can’t even navigate my way to a place I have already been to! How pathetic is that??”

We laughed together as he continued to remain calm and again to reassure me we would find Pip and Joan’s house.

“If I could only get my hands on a phone book which seems to be extinct in this country………or access to the internet”, I contemplated out loud.

“My wife has the intanet. You could use mine. I live just around the corner here?”

“Really? Wow! How nice of you to offer, Henry. Thank you. You don’t mind taking me home with you?”

"No problem at all, Dana. It would take only a couple of minutes then we'd be set in the right direction, now wouldn't we? My wife is home and probably on the internet right now chatting with her sister."

(An aside here...........no I hadn't completely lost my mind. I had been very alert about the streets we had been on, where the station was from our location. My intuition told me that this man was trustworthy. It seemed like a good risk. I had my bags right by my feet and if need be, I could hop out and most likely outrun him something Cagney and Lacey like! I believed in this man's kindness. And MAN what a story it would make!)

We turned onto a suburban street where the dwellings all looked right out of the 70's.....mock Swiss. Snuggled in between the cookie cutter townhouses was a small home with a pebble stone cottage feel to it. The little garden was well loved and blooming. Henry pulled up to the home, turned off the taxi and summoned me to come along. Hesitantly and little nervous to say the least, I followed him. He unlocked the front door and as he opened it, he shouted out.....

"Marion! I'm home early. I have a lost Canadian with me and she needs to use our intanet. She needs to find a local address on an email she sent to her Mum in Canada. "

"Do you bring home many lost Canadian's Henry?" laughing and wondering what I had done.

"You're the first!" he replies laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

Out popped this bundle of energy into the hallway....a friendly smiling warm woman in her 60's dressed in casual clothes.......

"Oh my goodness! You DO have a lost Canadian with you! Come in! Come in! Would you like something to eat? Some tea? I'm Marion."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Marion. I'm Dana. Thank you for the offer, but I probably should just get the address and find my destination. This is so kind of you two. I really appreciate you letting me barge in like this."

"Come in, come in.....my computer is in my craft room. Please dont mind the mess. It's full of projects half done," said Marion as she guides me into an overstuffed room full of knicknacks and knitting. It was like her own nesting spot. In the corner of the room glowed a computer. Marion pushed aside some papers, welcomed me to sit down comfortably and then she stepped back to let me access my email site. In two minutes, I had the address. A wash of relief flooded over me.

"I have it," I said turning to Henry. "The address is........"

"We're just a few minutes away from there," he smiled reassuring me.

As we headed back out the door, I gave Marion a hug and thanked her for her kindness again. She said something like it was no problem at all, and then wished me well.....and a very nice to meet you. She was so nonplussed about this interuption on her Saturday evening, that I left so full of amusement and smiles. what a friendly innocent trip she was!

In no time, Henry pulled up to the front of Joan and Pip's house. Safe and sound. I pulled out my wallet and gave him double the fare........and a hug. "Thank you Henry. You are a Godsend."

"You made my evening Dana. It was nice meeting you. Enjoy the rest of your trip."

"Well, you certainly made mine! And we're both left with a story to share aren't we?" We laughed together and said our goodbyes.

As he was pulling back onto the street, I fumbled with the key in the lock. Before I could turn the key, the door opened. Joan made it home before me...the cricket match had been called early because of the drizzling rain. She smiled showing some relief.....

"You know about an hour ago, I started to get a bit worried about you," she said.

"Joan, about an hour ago, you should've been worried about me......," I laughed showing my own relief......"you won't believe what just happened! It's so good to see you!"

I dropped my bags at the foot of the stairs and followed Joan into the kitchen where the wine was poured and a bite to eat was consumed.....where a wonderful evening of sharing stories and feelings ensued between two people who felt like we had known one another for a long long time. It was way past 2 am before sleepiness hit. I crawled into bed in the guestroom, also known as BigJohn's room, and fell asleep feeling very very lucky and well cared for.

postscript.....in all the craziness of that evening I of course neglected to write down Henry's address. I will never be able to thank he and Marion properly for taking a risk on a lost little Canuck. What we are left with is a good story of a happenstance connection and the knowledge that compassion thrives out there.