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

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'!

Love is a direction

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.

an unwanted visitor..........

I have a new visitor who seems to have settled into my temples and refuses to leave.  February dreary is it's favourite month, when you're stuck inside  surrounded by stale air and shadowy walls that seem to wobble inward. This so called guest smells of burning rubber and overcooked meat. Not a great aroma when the windows are shut. It feels like dry chalk remnants on sun famished hands. No amount of lotion can quell the cracked skin.   It sounds like your least favourite song played over and over again!  It looks like a dopey deer caught in the headlights.  Or perhaps an overweight Ogre who blocks the sun with its disgusting flabs of flatulence.   

Well, maybe it does.... I haven't decided yet. 

I've tried to shoo it out the door, but it sneaks back in, bores straight into that familiar place in my head, sits right down on my resolve and spews out ongoing smelly ruminations thereby blocking any attempts I make to move forward. This unwelcome squatter has the ability to shake up my resolve, to screw up any attempt at a "to do" list and  to toss in unhelpful questions that force my eyes downward to gaze at my navel.  

Well, i think it does.  I'm not too sure......

Clarity?  It clouds every issue in various hazes of grey.

Focus?  It eats it for breakfast and then belches in victory.

Sleep? It wrestles your dreams into nightmare submissions! 

Determination?  It melts the reserves turning it into tearpuddle frustrations.

Creativity?  It continually smears my work with swaths of black gooey paint. 

Certainty?  It introduces the dance of doubt leaving me tripping over my dainty feet.

Confidence?  Well, this blasted boundary hunter is holding my courage hostage!

My Mother in Law used to say....... "Guests are like fish.  They begin to stink after three days...."  Well, if that's the case, I've got a guest that ranks as odourfically as lobster bait! Ever inhaled a whiff of that lovely concoction?  I WANT it GONE!  Open the windows, turn on the fans, clear out the stink!  Time to let in bountiful fresh air! 

Maybe, I havent been direct enough with my vamoosing.  Maybe I haven't been clear enough with this unwanted visitor ?  I want it gone!  Right? Isn't that what I want?    I don't know .......... oh shit, here I go again......... second guessing myself!  

Enough I SAY!  EnuFFF!  You know,  thoughts are only illusions if they remain unspoken or unexpressed!  They bing a bong like marbles in an pinball machine in your busy brain trapping you in a state of indecision so paralyzing that you miss out on LIVING!  Turns out unharnessed thoughts breathe life into my unwanted intruder who has completely overstayed its welcome.  You've got to bellow those thoughts out in any way you can .....clear a path through the mumbling marbles.  Whether its through talking, writing, painting, running, climbing, relaxing, praying, acting.... DOING, its time to find the breath of my own spirit again. Before my soul wears right through.......

By breathing them out, I deplete the strength of this constantly devouring interloper!  

I think.  hmmmm..... I hope. hmmmmmm.... OK, I know.  I KNOW this!

Indecison?  You've overstayed your welcome.  Heck, I didn't even invite you!  So, pack up buddy!  Get out of my life and do not interupt, invade, smear, attack, belch, or try to befriend again.  I've got reserves you don't know even know about.  I've got strength you can never touch!  I've put words to you measley thoughts and have depleted your stranglehold on me! And NOW!?  I've got my smile on, which I know VERY well is your evil nemesis!  Hahahahaha!  I win! 

Oh, and indecision, you smelly piece of fish waste, just in case you think you can take over my game, I offer you this piece of music!   

I dare you to have a listen! 

 

Photo of that "clown" indecision packing the trunk of his car.

good riddance!

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. 

half way moon rising......

Tonight, as I stood on my back deck catching up on the phone with my friend Mary who can always be counted on to reaffirm that I truly am not crazy and that I'm just this emotionally charged being doing the best she can to sort through the layers of stuff I seem to accumulate in the course of the day (the same way she does) I caught sight of two shooting stars and watched the half way moon rise up from the river. 

I whispered two wishes to myself as the stars shot across the sky.....wispy heart wishes.  Small significant desires that would mean a lot to me, but not to anyone else. I would like to ask for a wild wondrous wish, but I don't think I'm ready for that yet.  It would only end up feeling burdensome. 

The moon was resplendently dressed in orange as it revealed itself from the calm waters.  A half way wise moon waning to a crescent, waxing poetic knowing because she's been there and done that so many times. Sometimes she gets it right.  Sometimes the beautiful moon just hides behind a knot of clouds to take a breather from always having to be such a strong vibrant presence.  Even if you can't see La Luna in her golden gown aglow, you always feel like you can count on her to be strong. 

People keep telling me I'm strong.... how is this possible when I don't feel that way all the time? I don't feel strong.  But, how is strong supposed to feel?  Is what I project....this scrappy charisma that just seems to emanate from me the reason why people believe this of me?   Is it because even when I'm hiding away behind my knotted clouds, with raindrops dripping from tearducts, people continue to believe I'm capable.... made from soul alloys that will not break?  I don't get it.

When I balk at their comments..... "you're so strong.... you'll be fine....." and say, "no, I'm not as strong as you think I am..."  they don't believe me.  It makes me laugh at these moments when all of a sudden i'm in a debate as to whether I'm strong or not! Maybe because I end up laughing over the silliness of the conversation that it feeds the strength I'm supposed to have the market cornered on. Absurdity energizes. 

I am a strong person.......they are right.  I think. 

Do strong women tear up as much as I do?  Do they melt at first drop of tenderness?  Do they yearn to be cared for and romanced?  Or are they tough broads who need no one to help them.  Distress slips off these women like a negligee on a hot night with purpose.  Can you be strong yet vulnerable at the same time or are they opposites?

I asked the Halfway Moon dipped in orange as she slipped off her negligee into her naked golden light....... and you know what she said? 

"Strength brings on the tears of comfort.  Strength allows you to reveal your vulnerability.  It is why you can be in distress, yearn for romance, know you will find it.  Strength feeds your optimism and points you away from curses, towards the blessings in your life.  Life is all about doing and redoing as a means of learning.  

You are learning... and from that place where the best kind of learning happens.... in a growly unsettled place called discomfort. I see you rise up from the waters like I do, resplendently dressed in emotions of many colours.  You know those deep feelings intimately.  You know the layers accumulated throughout your jam packed somewhat bizarre interactive kind of days will slip off you."

Then, the Moon asked me.........

" Do you know how to settle inside your whole being and pray?"

"Yes," I answered.   "I've done that regularly throughout the summer but it always feels that I end up fractured with a million shooting stars bumping into one another in this cosmic head of mine. Fractured thoughts don't add up to strength.  They  make me feel incompetent, weak and incapable of managing the tasks I'm supposed to be responsible for.  They make me want to run away."

"But you don't, do you?  You don't run away...... the halfway moon pointed out...

"No I don't.  Sometimes I can shine in a confidence I don't even know the source of.  Sometimes I just hide behind my knotted clouds.  Sometimes I'm calm, just calm.  But, I never run away.  Quitting is not an option."

"Well, there you go," said the beautiful moon as she continued her ascent up into the darkened sky.  "You are aware of what you can do.  It may take longer than normal to get your act together to be able to accomplish what you want, but by the time your day is going to sleep and I am waking up in the night sky, you find in your reflections the blessings, not the curses.  I see it when I look down on you.  You find the calm waters....... and see the pool of possibilities.  No need to worry whether you're strong enough to forge ahead, to reach a place where you will be able to find balance again."

"You think so Half Way Moon?"  I ask.... still a little dubious.

"I know so......because you strive to make your gaze beautiful, you're half way there too.....sometimes waxing, sometimes waning..........it doesn't matter.  You're halfway there.  All the wiser.  All the stronger.  You colourful passion suits you. "  

It's a good thing to have a beautiful moon as a therapist.  I think I'm almost ready for the wild wondrous wishes.....  bring on the shooting stars.

Heart Grenades and the Art of Looking Sideways.

Strange to look at life sideways.  Strange, but oh so imperative.  It stretches the muscles in our eyes in a way that doesn't feel natural.  However, if ever we really want to make changes in this world we live in, and in our own individual lives, we must look off to the side for the options.  Conformity, the lemming kind, is the death knell of our society. The routine of sameness depletes our energy, sending us down a heavy footed path of apathy, dulling our senses.  What always perks up the brain, kisses the heart, zippity dips the pace is a fresh perspective.   Fresh awareness.....

Lemon scented fresh.

First kiss fresh.

After the rain cool breeze fresh. 

Puppies pouncing in the snow fresh.

Pussy willow promise fresh

Blooming pink blossom fresh

New slivery moon fresh

Stepping out of the shower rinsed and naked fresh.

We drop the blinders, take off the armour, stretch out our yawnings, open our minds, and look around?  Suddenly our way of seeing, which became our way of being, alters.  We shift.  In a blink. Aha! 

Here's a NEW way of looking at this issue!

Here's some light seeping through the dark realities of our sufferings

Here's a possibility!

But, am I willing to make the shift? Do I have a choice here?  MAN! What a frightening thought!

Life is easier to stay confined in a pocket of protection, away from new perspectives.  It seems safer, more predictable, more sane.  Yeah, right! What an illusion that is.  Still, we hold on tight to what we consider is the truth. It's what we know.  It's what we built our lives on.... those beliefs that you had some control over the events in your life.  Maybe that's the purpose of those "heart grenades" that often get lofted at us?  To wake us up?  To make us question everything around us??  To shake the inner stuffing loose.  To help us lose our balance in order to feel vulnerable?  When we are shook up enough and the vulnerability is ripe for the weeping, there is no more truth to hold onto.  What is left is an opportunity to look at life from another vantage point. 

God, will you help me do this?  Give me the strength to look at this life sideways...... to stand it on its ear.... to relax enough to let go of the ruminations..... to open the valve and let the possiblities flow upon the shiny rocks which I continue to stub my toes on! 

Shut off the valve of possibility, our whole being dries up. Turn it on full blast and the pools of creativity fill up and up and up with the cleansing spirits to quench the thirst we sometimes didn't even know existed.  At first, when new perspectives arise, we want to gulp it down....God, we're so thirsty for answers, for comfort, for colour!  When we first realize that how we are living, doing, being is not working, we want to change it ASAP!   Because of desperation and the motivation to douse the flames licking at our shame, we shuffle forward without taking the time to learn how to use our refreshed senses properly.  We need time to "retool" as well as to assess whether this new perspective is the right fit.  An oasis of water flowing to a thirsty person wounded by a heart grenade can be just as dangerous as staying in a pocket of protection.....

hmmmmm............maybe we need to look both ways, allowing the green twinkle of our eyes to cast beyond the first glance.....  looking beyond the sideways just at our feet......... over the horizon sideways... leap of faith sideways..... There is an art to it.  But there are no clear cut linear instructions.  You have to figure out your own glancing, looking, observing, assessing, glimpsing, gazing.  Not alone.  You don't have to learn this alone.  There is a Holy Spirit all around us to guide us. 

Sometimes we are the last to know how dehydrated and thirsty we really are.  Until we learn the art of looking sideways.  If we allow it to, it can soothe the wounds left by the blast of a heart grenade.  Late night loneliness does not have to smell like napalm.  It can be soothed by the aroma of perfuming comfort and the essence of insensing courage.......... let me turn my head to the left..... to the right....  Now?  let me look up and out.......... and what do I see?  Delicious possibilities.

Tell me...... What do YOU see when you look sideways?

_____________________________

ps.  This post was inspired by two things. I found myself in the valley of emotions today, so much so that I think I need to get my hormones checked!  The dips are too severe and I'm now thinking that there could be a medical reason feeding this trip I'm on.  Heaven help anyone who goes near a PMS-ing 49 year old in the throes of a divorce. You have no idea how ugly it looks from the inside! But, I'm relieved to report that I'm pulling out of this mass of snottiness and will be myself once again tomorrow.  (thank you Mavis!!)

I am also thinking a great deal about the upcoming Greenbelt Festival which I had the pleasure and the opportunity to attend last year.  In some respects, it was life changing.... many shifts occured and insights were gathered.  Sadly, the one which was so predominantly recharged in my being.... to return home from the festival with a clear desire to work through the issues in my marriage, I wasn't even able to kickstart.  It was over.  I just didn't know it.  

However, on a spiritual level, the depth of my faith and interest in pursuing this path of believing strengthened beyond my expectations.  Consequently, it has provided a foundation I sorely depended on last spring and continue to.  So, I wish I was going again this year....... to Greenbelt.  To refresh, to remind myself, to recharge, to remember, to reflect and to have some really really good fun with a group of people who are a part of my life and my heart.  When I think of them fondly, their beautiful faces and friendliness feed my soul with such delicious soulfood.

The theme for the Greenbelt Festival this year is "The Art of Looking Sideways..."  It's such an inspirational theme.... and fits nicely with how I try my best to look beyond the sides of my life.  The creative side of me, whether it's writing or photography, or even counselling (there is a lot of creativity and openness in the field of counselling) embraces this theme wholeheartedly.  So, I thought I would try to capture my feelings of this day as well as my thoughts on the theme.  I guess you could say, I was a multi-tasking blogger tonight.  And it worked.

  

My head cleared.  

I looked sideways.  

And you know what I found? 

MY SMILE!  I found MY SMILE! 
The little bugger was smirking 
off to the side!

Love to all of you............ xxxx

i thought i was ready..........

Dear God, 

I stopped walking. My journey halted abruptly.

My choice.

I thought I was ready for a rest.

I thought I would be ready to sit still to read, to write,

to focus on the daily tasks inviting me back

I thought I was ready for some lovin' fun.  

God knows I was lacking. 

It seemed like the natural inclination, 

to rest from a deep seated exhaustion

to recharge, rekindle the light of Eros.

Love and belonging.... to fill that cup of love and belonging. 

Instead, the walking continued, 
this time it was in the form of a pace........ 

directionless missteps with too many unneeded ones.

Overwhelming expectations breathed dragon heat on my neck.
not wispy kisses.

Instead, I spun around enough to make me dizzy.  

Spinning never gets you where you want to go.  

It just leaves heat on the soles of your feet....

friction burns from assimilated repetitious actions

and a mixed up brain.

Every now and then, I'd sit with blistered feet

with high hopes of receiving a massaging balm

from strong warm hands. 

Tender touches

How I longed for those hands to hold me.

 

By then, my thoughts were jumbled,

my breathing was burdened,

my feelings had flown out of me 
like scattered stars in a night sky. 

Desperation only leaks from this chaos. 

Love looks and feels like hungry chaos in the mean hours.

Shadow boxing driven by the ache of loneliness

zapped my energy time and again.

I'd reach up to the heights of joyful anticipation

only to be slapped down 
with the dramatic force of the glove of realization.

Boxing glove brutality. 

I'd seek out illusions in hopes that the oasis welcomed me into its beauty.

I didn't recognize them as illusions.  

No, I saw them as truth.  

It was never solid enough to grasp onto.... 

the oasis was sand spilling out of open hands 
of one dimensional one liners. 

They were the wrong open hands. 

Love amiss. 

Love is not one errant kiss.

Stuck in transit,

I wallowed in lonely unmet needs,

clouding over personal reflections.

I lifted up the mirror. 

No images formed. 

Just faceless silouettes arcing out of silver glass.

The yearnings market crashed all around me,

sending shards of desires through an already splintered heart.

I lost my way. 

I ran the other way.

I went deaf to the calling of my name.

Still,  I spun inside the yearnings of Eros.

I thought I was ready. 

I thought the comfort could be found in strong arms

I saw love as the potion to pull me up out of mired loneliness.

I forgot You.

I forgot how to find You.

You let me feel the rawness of an unprotected heart.

And I cursed every single time I landed on my knees alone.

I forgot the words of prayer.

Wiped out after pacing......

Stripped of all semblance of balance, 

I sought solace under the covers on hot humid days 

with only the fan to keep me cool..... 

white noise to drown out a heavy heart.

 Stillness of an empty bed.

Last night, 

empty and disappointed, 

I remembered a few things. 

Your love is what matters most. 

Your love is what supports me through the spinning chaos of healing

It is Your love that helps me heal the blister burned feet.

God, I reckon this will not the be last time I have to learn this lesson. 

Spinning at first feels like a fun activity, 

though interest grows weak 

repetition sneaks in the pain 
when you're not paying attention. 

At least it emptied me

Emptied me enough to let You in again. 

Just in time.

I will walk again...... 

forward, with two steps back every now and then

Still.

You under my feet, as always

You never forget me..... 
sometimes I'm too full that I falter and forget You, God.
Maybe I don't forget.
Maybe I just misplace myself.

Walking in prayer, 

unraveling the confusion.

finding solace

And all around me......... your encouraging echos

I will hear

Reassurance.

Love, the unconditional hymn you hum

to lost souls like me

doing the best that I can to find my way back to the fold. 

God, will you hold up that mirror for me?

Let it reflect on the Beauty of this day 
you have given me as a gift
to breathe in Your love? 

Let me hold the Hand I cannot see

and feel the warmth of being held again.

I am ready.  I am ready to pray again.

Will you show me how to again? 

swimming in your own stare....

Nobody, absolutely nobody gets out of this life without accumulating a series of personal emotional wounds.  Chances are, nobody gets out of this life without being the one who wounds another.  Even the kindest person trips up somewhere along the line.  Well, maybe Mother Theresa didn't wound anybody. 

Sometimes we just have to learn how to step beyond those debilitating feelings that make you double over in vulnerability.  Its tempting to remain stuck in sadness, anger, hurt, shame and/or jealousy because they have a tendancy to be SO big that they flood our thinking and our actions.  They leave you sitting on the sidelines swimming in your own stare, gazing without focus.....walking in circles, believing you belong there.  That's the temptation.....to grab hold of these devilish emotions and allow them to label you....

The offended one.

The betrayed one.

The rejected one.

The discarded one.

The abandoned one. 

 Look at all the labels one can choose from!!! 

Though it's important to look at the dark side of our feelings, to reflect upon the events which have been the culprit of the wounds, there comes a time when you have to step over them, leave them behind and move on.  Easier said than done....especially if you sink into a pit of self loathing introversion.  Swimming in your own stare.  This is what sinks you.  This is what fuels the apathy and strips you of any level headed reasoning.  

When you are going through a painful experience, its easy to hide away.  In fact, I think its the natural response........ FLIGHT from the pain. But, the pain follows.  The labels stick like humidity to skin. Wounded vulnerability drains you of energy.  So how do you pull yourself out of the bleeding?  

BLINK!  

Change your swim stroke! 

Stop staring at the same picture.

Ask for help........a little help from your friends.  :)

Surround yourself with the loving care of others.

Change your thinking with activity even if you are exhausted.

Write it out............ which is what I'm doing right now......

Do something you enjoy doing.  

Be kind to yourself.

Talk to God.

Sit still and face the wind and listen to His Spirit all around you........

Then, go out and do something for someone else.  Trust that your wounds will remained bandaged so you can be there fully for someone else. 

This morning, as I was having breakfast with a friend at the market, an angel who knows my situation and  who happened to be waitressing, leaned down and whispered in my ear that the woman who has recently moved to town and has played a major role in the demise of my marriage, and the break up of two families was in line to be seated. This angel, who calls everyone honey, told me that she loved me and didn't want to see me hurt.  

A rush of anxiety flooded me........ the wounds opened up in my gut.  I hugged my friend, thanked my angel and took flight!  By the time I reached my car, I was a shaking mess....upset that I reacted that way, and upset that someone's presence would make me feel like throwing up.  More than anything I was upset over the realization that I could feel the DEPTH of hurt I thought I had left behind.  It felt like all of what I have done to heal went right out the window in one caught breath. 

I really thought I had stepped over the wounds.  I guess not.  My bravery was too thin skinned to remain there with my head held high.  All day, I've been a mess.  My stomach was in knots.  My tears kept flowing.  Until NOW. Ever since I started writing this post, I could feel my strength and confidence return.  I DO know how to help heal the wounds..... it just takes more time than I had thought. 

It's been a wake up call.  It's also been an opportunity to reframe and remember all the things I HAVE done since March that have added to a deepening faith, to a sense of freedom and relief,  to a recognition that there was an emotional detachment in my marriage for a very long time.  More importantly, this jolt to my senses has informed me that my heart still needs mending....  Oh, and to give thanks to the angels in my life!  They are plentiful and everywhere!  I AM being looked after by the universe. 

I am humbled by the sacredness of this journey...... wounds bless and break.  They also teach me and feed me bread for the journey.  As a student of living out loud?  I will never remain on any sideline for long.....just long enough to change the gauze and the gaze!!  I am not swimming in my own stare any longer today. 

ps...... Wow, writing does heal!!!!  Now, I wish I had stayed long enough to get a glimpse of this woman.  I still don't know what she looks like!! Next time. Next time.