love is a direction...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To be continued................... 

savoring new mediums

Emerging creativity is an activity we savor in this family.  Whether its photography, watercolour painting, dance, theatre arts, fashion design, writing, or a new form of collage and paint, creative pursuits allow you the gift of moving out and beyond yourself even for a short stint.  It tickles imagination fancies and awakens new soul tributaries which hold colour compositions just waiting to be discovered.  It heightens confidence, teaches focus, offers expressive outlets one may not even know existed.  Zesty savoring!

Creativity is exploration into the realm of turning dreams into action.  How life affirming is that?

I took this photo of my daughter Martha last night after she arrived home from one of the Art classes she is taking in the evening.  On top of a full load of courses in her last year of high school, she is taking 2 evening courses at the Craft College in order to help her develop a portfolio to be submitted with her application into the Fine Arts program at Mount Allison University.   

So determined!  So full of purpose!  She is on the cusp of transitioning into a whole new world and is very busy trying to make it happen.   Last night, the little girl in her was revealed again.  Excitement radiated from her smiling eyes while she described the process of a new technique she had applied and her gleeful satisfaction on the finished product.  

I wanted to savor the moment.  I wanted Martha too as well.  So, as she signed her artwork (one that will eventually be framed and hung in the dining room because I love it too!) we took a moment in the middle of a very busy Autumn to recognize our mutual love of creative expression.  It will always be a tie that binds.....past, present and future.

Like me, Martha will forever have a project on the go.  Her hands will be covered in whatever paint or glue or ink continuously.  Her ticking brain is constantly gazing both inside and outside.  The way she looks at the world around her is seen through an every changing lens of imagination.  And when she gets an idea in her head, she has to follow through on it in order to let go of it.  It's hilarious to listen to her when she has a new project in mind!  I hear the echo of me in her!   

And in turn, I hear the echo of Martha in me........  it makes me smile every time I think of this.  Man oh, man I'm going to miss her next year when she head off to University.  Where does the time go?

Savor, savor, savor..........

For more photo interpretations on the word "Savor,"  check out Carmi's blog.......

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

blue light

Service....... 

It's all about the journey to an awareness of our gifts.  Its all about being open to sharing them.  Whatever the venue.  When we give, we receive more in return.  Sometimes what we end up receiving is new awareness of how we are being perceived, both negatively and positively.  Sometimes, there is a clear indication that our gifts are not welcome.....not wanted.  Sometimes they are embraced by the receiver with gratitude.  It's a bit of a crapshoot because all you can do is give.  Your gifts.  Be who you are.  Say how you feel.  Share kindness.  Be a good friend.  Listen and learn. You have no control really over how the other person will react, respond, receive.  You can choose only how you give and what you give out.

The key is trying to find the right venue, because if you're stuck in a place where wings are clipped and free spirits are not welcome nor understood, gifts collect dust in the back corner of the pantry. 

Meaning.......... Our lives are a journey of gathering awareness while letting go of our egos.  What I may want, what I hunger for is more than likely driven by obsessed ambition.  And we all know that when our vision is clouded over by salacious needs, we lose our footing.  We lose our way because our Spirit disconnects from our ego driven actions.  It doesn't want any part of it. 

Luckily our true Spirit...... like God is patient.  It knows that most of us humans are slow on the uptake.  WE seemed to need several toe stubbing, head slamming, body jolting, heart stabbing life events to finally realize that our lives are in good Hands if we allow our own to be open to give and to receive.  

So, how does one marry the two?  Service and Meaning? God knows.

Hey God!  You wanna shine a little more blue light on me?  Just a little more of that meaning-full blue light?  I promise I will sit still more often this month.......I have a feeling that's what you would like me to do.  To stop, look and listen........ with an open heart and a pair of open hands.  It's time to seek out answers to just exactly what venue would I fit in to be able to be of good service....where is this place that will allow me to offer up my gifts?  It continues to be a mystery.  My destiny is still behind a curtain.

If anyone is looking for me this month?  I'll be close to some body of water.  Light catches in blue down by the water.  And it is blue light that I am seeking..........

imagine

Imagination, be it friend or foe is the firelight that beams into your soul.  It is the necessary tool to be able to expand on a raindrop of an idea.  It can also turn one teardrop into a puddle big enough to splash around in.

Our imagination carries us beyond the mind by inviting us to enter through passageways of possibilities.  It is the sweetening of wonder.  It is the booster juice of inspiration.  It is the fuel injection required to unblock and unleash the musings wandering aimlessly in the galaxy, motioning them to formulate creatively. 

Sometimes that curious imagination finds out things before you're even ready to go there.  It thrives on questions and various "what if" scenarios and turns them into wicked flights of fantasy where wishes upon wishes transform into a multi-sensory carnival of dreams just waiting for you to unleash your inhibitions, doubts and fears so you can replace them with passionate exploration.  If you allow your imagination to run freely you may find yourself on a ride you never knew existed, or you thought was beyond your reach.  But, if you can imagine it can you then transform it into something tangible and real?  Can an illusion ever be held in the palm of your hands?

Imagination dips itself into the well of mystery........... oh, how it LOVES a good mystery.   Feed it with pieces of life puzzles and it folds itself into a hideaway nook to savour ever single tasty morsel.  Be careful of the stings.  Be prepared for some surprising feelings.......for our imagination often has a unique way of rebuilding the puzzle.  It may not be how you want it to look, sound, feel like.  It may be dangerously painful.  It may distort the lines of reality all the while trying to convince you of its honesty.  Sometimes our self created imagery will carry us into a sinkhole of doubting dialogue and with one full swoop, send you far away from any comfort you have carefully tucked in all around you.

At times it seems almost impossible to rein in our expansive fabrications.  We start spiralling down into a tunnel, haunted by memories and prickly pain only to land with a thud inside a chamber of horrific thoughts?  Why do we allow ourselves to go there?  Do we need to experience the dark side reality of our imagery in order to eventually let go of it?  Is this where we kick and kick until we bleed daylight?

Maybe the travels we take down the side of the mountain where the sun doesn't shine forces us to wrestle the truth from the sticky goo of falsehoods.  Maybe its all a part of learning from our sorrows. Maybe it allows us to ask the question.... "IS this the truth?  Is what I'm thinking the truth?"

Most days, I embrace my imagination and allow it to lead me beyond the wild.  I love the fact that my mind is an endless babbling two way conversation with ideas rich with possibilities.  On days when it is my friend, I can float on optimism and hope.  I can plan productively, think clearly, sharpen my view of what could possibly be beyond the horizon.  Its those other days when the it feels more like a noose around my soul and all I can hear is the same dialogue.... the same song over and over again. It's an obsessive mantra full of failure and rejection, cascading over a waterfall of tears. 

My imagination can lead me to an open beach with life affirming salty breezes where I feel loved and at one with this glorious world all around me, but it can also steer me into a abandoned alley reeking in human waste.  No matter how hard I try to avoid those stinking alleyways, sometimes its just impossible. 

Yesterday, I made it to the beach.  Just in time.   The singing sands beach in Souris, Prince Edward Island.  I had it all to myself.  I made the sands sing as I walked along the shore.  These sands are famous for their singing.  And when I returned to the car to head back to Charlottetown, my toes were still humming........ my friendly imagination was returning.  The noose was loosening.  Though my sense of failure and rejection still rattles inside me.  The shock of hasn't worn off yet. My raw anger has not floated away.......yet. 

_______________________

ps..... so many good things have happened to me over the past two months, and a few very funny things too.  I havent had much time to write these days, and long to.  I hope I will be able to capture some of the lighter parts soon........... Just have to find the stillness in me to start, write and complete a piece all in one sitting.  Its seems impossible right now.  Stillness is a fleeting wave  .......

riddles.

Natures red carpet.

"The wound has left an imprint....labour and discipline of creativity refines our blemished seeing, and gradually an unexpected gift comes to light.....nothing is said directly in creative work; it is obliquely suggested. Perhaps creative expression is a way of telling something indirectly that we could never tell out straight...."  

John O'Donohue,

Beauty, The Invisible Embrace.

Creativity is never linear is it?  Come to think of it, neither is love. They both contain complicated riddles that act as cues to peak our curiosity, and to hook us into delving deeper into the world of human imperfection.  

Life is full of surprises.  Amazing how often we see reality through the lens of an illusion.  Amazing how often we settle into an illusion convinced its reality only to be surprised by a confession.....a truth. 

My leap of faith is wanting....... I wish sometimes it was simply a linear journey where the destination was at the end of a red carpet and the gift was sitting at the foot of an old maple.


Life is a riddle.  So is creativity.  So is love.

spirits..........

"We have falsely spatialized the eternal world. We have driven the eternal out into some kind of distant galaxy. Yet the eternal world does not seem to be a place but rather a different state of being. The soul of the person goes no place because there is no place else to go. This suggests that the dead are here with us, in the air that we are moving through all the time. The only difference between us and the dead is that they are now in an invisible form. You cannot see them with the human eye. But you can sense the presence of those you love who have died. With the refinement of your soul, you can sense them. You feel that they are near."
John O'Donohue, Anam Cara.

Spirits defy human logic. Sometimes logic is overrated. Instead, let us recognize their presence in the moments when our creative efforts find a fluency emerging from the depths of our lyrical possibilities.

I think we can easily become estranged from the loving forces around us who carry us in ways we may not be able to understand logically, but are there to support and guide. During times when we are integrated with our creative side, we move out of the logic of cerebral contemplations and into a space where we are openly vulnerable to receiving direction from the soul spirits of those who guide. Creativity defies logic. Creativity dwells in the illumination of our heightened senses. Spirits help us move beyond logic and into a place of sensory perception. We wouldn't have art without a little help from the Spirits all around.

Let us toast their nearness.


ps. Happy Halloween. May you enjoy my jack o'latern sunrises. Brilliant orange has been the most predominant colour at dawn where I live......

being understood....

I can't think of anything more life affirming than the feeling of being understood. Its like finding an open door leading to a cozy room, warmed by a stoked fire. Inside is someone who welcomes you with a generous smile and a genuine twinkle in their enthusiasm to see you.

Being understood is the confirmation that your style and your way of being is accepted unconditionally. It feeds that feeling of being comfortable in your own skin. You can relax, let your guard down, be yourself .... accept yourself .... forgive yourself. It can only happen, however, if you are in a place of comfort with who you are, and how you are.

Have you ever spent time with someone who is unable to let go of their self consciousness? So acutely aware of people who may be watching in judgement, they trip over their own projected image. It's like they are electrified with discomfort, terrified that they won't be accepted that they try too hard.

The aura around someone who is acting out of character, who is obviously uncomfortable in the own skin fills with a feeling that makes others around them feel unsettled. All the hard work beforehand....the primping and planning, the worry and the fretting to ensure that every piece of clothing is just right, that the makeup is applied without too much blush, that the accessories are not too flashy and not too conservative.... all that bother ends up creating the exact atmosphere this person was trying so hard to avoid. The unsettled feelings others have keep them at bay. The person remains on the margins. Soulfriend homeless.

Unwelcomed. Misunderstood. Destined to remain standing in the middle of an echo, behind a mask that just doesn't fit. What a complicated paradox.

John O'Donohue captured the essence of being understood so beautifully throughout his book, Anam Cara, and ties it into the love, belonging, and feeling of finding a home inside another ......."Love allows understanding to dawn, and understanding is precious. Where you are understood, you are at home. Understanding nourishes belonging. When you really feel understood, you feel free to release yourself into the trust and shelter of the other person's soul." And to think we all thought a home had a roof and 4 walls!

It can't happen easily if a person doesn't find a home within herself. You have to start by loving yourself.... being kind to yourself .... accepting your imperfections as beauty marks of a life lived. It rarely happens if there is internal discomfort crawling under the skin, layering any honest vulnerability. It is almost impossible to find that open door with the warm hearth and the genuine twinkling enthusiasm when the person isn't authentically who they appear to be.

As much as we should embrace the unembraceable, love the unlovable sadly most of us walk away in an effort to get out from under the jittery aura, all the while trying to understand the person behind the persona. Phoney does that.

___________________________


ps.... What I love and admire of my friend Lisa (whose legs appear in the accompanying photo is the confidence she exudes in her beautiful unique attire .... and the fact that she lets me stalk her with my camera every Saturday at the Market! thank you Lisa! xx

pastels.......

If I were an artist,
I'd choose pastels as my medium to create sweeping murals.
Those vibrant clay lipsticks
allow for a blurring overlapping landscape to emerge
in a coupling of colourful clarity.

Using the warm energy from my fingers
to ply its buttery substance
I'd pull their intense colours across the canvas
blending them into harmonic hues and contrasting drama.

I'd let them weep into shades of autumnal laments
staining romance onto a wanting canvas
in a textured velvety cream.....

As I apply my colours with varying fingertip pressure
I'd sense a moody tenderness,
courting sharp light with opaque tones,
capturing transience in flight.

If I were an artist, I'd choose pastels....
Strong vibrant clay lipsticks of pure pigment
to layer a dappling brilliance of lifetimes
with forgiving imagination.

yes I would.....

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???

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...

through the eyes of a new fan.....

Let me fill your heart with joy and laughter
Togetherness, well that's all I'm after
Whenever you need me, I'll be there
I'll be there to protect you,
with an unselfish love that respects you
Just call my name and I'll be there
The Jackson 5

Sometime during the winter, my 11 year old son began to discover the music of Michael Jackson. This is the same age I discovered him. Max was mesmerized by the dance moves and the music from the Thriller and Off the Wall albums, intrigued by the enormity of Jackson's success and full of questions about the weirdness of the man's lifestyle. He was in awe of Jackson's voice and his ability to move like he had the power to defy gravity. The style and swagger.....the energy and magic of the music which washed over this globe, created by a brilliantly talented human being was alive and well, captured for a new generation to discover. His music was uploaded onto an 11 year old's I-pod to savour.

Personally, I had stopped listening to the stories and bizarre activities surrounding Michael Jackson, had completely stepped away from even paying attention to him because of his behaviour and over the top weirdness. To me, it felt like a carnival freak show, created for the most part by an unrelenting fan base and a media which would never let go. The man/boy in the bubble choked on his extravagant success, turning himself into a distant recluse locked away from reality, surrounded by a hoard of handlers who treated him like an alien. It was like watching a slow motion train wreck that took 35 years to reach the point when we all watched him shuffle into a courtroom in his pyjama pants. Are there words to capture his demise? Sad? Pathetic? No, it was more mind boggling than words could convey.

My son hadn't heard all of the stories yet.......the ongoing accusations and acquittals the millions of dollars spent in "settlements," the flamboyant spending on everything from Elephant Man remains to renting the top floor of luxury hotels in Vegas, and the strange reclusive behaviour. Photos and videos however, revealed Jackson's transformation from a handsome young man with a gleam in his eye and a talent that knew no boundaries to a hideous looking shell of a human being whose hair draped a face that was otherwordly....whose sunglasses and veils hid him from light.

Like every single one of us, Max had many questions, most of which remain unanswered. What happened? Why did it happen? Who in their right mind would perform over 50 plastic surgeries on another human being who obviously was mentally ill and live with themself ? Who are these doctors who wrote numerous prescriptions for pain killers turning Jackson into a zombie like addict? Where the hell were his friends? Were they all living in their own pathetic fame filled bubbles that they didn't feel they could approach him, arrange for help.....?

My son and I talked occasionally about Michael Jackson.....I told him stories of how amazing the Jackson 5 were, how huge Jackson's albums were when they were first released....how at age 11 I was a huge fan! I tried to explain what I thought had happened to him in the ensuing years, but how do you explain to someone such mystery? Still, the music prevailed, and overshadowed the wacko jacko-ness of one very disturbed sick man. My son became a fan.

Last evening, Max came rushing upstairs.......his eyes popping out of his head and a look of shock on his face to inform me that the King of Pop had been rushed to the hospital and was in a coma. At first I didn't think it was serious. I figured maybe Jackson fainted or something from exhaustion prepping for his London concerts. It didn't surprise me....the most recent photos revealed a man who seemed to be a walking thin shell of himself, not the high energy consummate performer who always looked completely "in the zone" happy on stage. But, within minutes, the same media who helped turn Jackson into an untouchable were announcing his death. In the middle of what we all know will be an unstoppable barrage of stories, accolades, interpretations all stemming from the phoniness of Hollywood...... I heard a new 11 year old fan say....

"I think I will remember this day for the rest of my life." I believe he will. It is one of those moments when an event outside of your own realm interupts and leaves something indelible in one's memory. Like Elvis. Like Diana. Like RFK. Like JFK. Like Martin Luther King. All for different reasons.... but a stopping before and after recognition that you will remember where you were when you heard the news. For my son. For many I imagine.

Michael Jackson, the most famous entertainer in the world whose behaviour and secret life far outshines any head shaving meltdown Britney could throw into the tabloids..... the man whose arrested development shackled him to Neverland and a life of relating to Lost Boys.... was a true genius. Painfully, his orbiting success and his deep wounds left from abuse and never being able to know what normal is, ate at his soul and left him behind a veil. No doubt we will be living it and reading about it all.... hearing it dredged up on talk shows and news shows until we want to vomit.

Looking out across the morning
The city�'s heart begins to beat
Reaching out, I touch her shoulder
I'�m dreaming of the street .......

Can you imagine never having a chance to walk down a street all by yourself with a sense of smiling anonymity? Jackson's song Human Nature captures his desire to just be normal..... to walk on the street, to "take a bite of an apple....." So , so sad. For all of his success, Michael Jackson was the loneliest human being on the planet.

The eternal Lost Boy? May he rest in peace. May he find the freedom his life never offered him. Let his music transcend this craziness and sadness of his life and the predictable dissection of it after his death. Let his music be discovered through the eyes, ears and heart of a new fan for years to come.

Providence.....

"Providence is another name for the kindness of God. It we could realize how wise the providence around us is, it would give us immense confidence on our journey. The irony is that we don't need to worry. We can take a lot more risks than we realize. It is interesting to ask: What are the limits you have set for your life? Where are the lines of these limits? Why do you think you cannot go beyond them? How real are they? Did you construct these limits out of anxiety and fear? If you we to go beyond your most solidly set limits, what difference would it make to your life? What are you missing by remaining confined?

The awakening to the beauty of your creativity can totally change the way you view limits. When you see the limit not as a confining barrier, but as a threshold, you are already beyond. The beauty of imagination helps you to see the limit as an invitation to venture forth and view the world and your role in it as full of beautiful possibilities. You become aware of new possibilities in how you feel, think and act. The interim, the in-between world is brisk with possibility. And possibility is the gift of creativity. "

John O'Donahue, Beauty, The Invisible Embrace.

I wonder if Bono was inspired by Father O's writings? No Line on the Horizon....... :)

(photos of Miss Martha taken by good friend Miss Phoebe....both are creative beings. I love their energy.)

happy glowing faces

From a tiny seed planted in the spring, they begin their ascent from the soil. Gathering strength in their numbers, they continue to rise....their stems become stalks.....their potential unlimited. With the support of their environment, they thrive. It makes me wonder if their ultimate goal is to touch the tip of the sky? As they absorb the best of the summer sun, we wait in anticipation for the grand display of their happy glowing faces to delight our gardens. Have you ever noticed how they seem to point their faces towards the warm rays like they are anticipating a kiss?

Sunflowers offer us a glimpse of our own cycle of life.

Seeds are sown, seeds are grown.....

Through our nuturing of one another and absorbing the best of the summer sun, we also have the potential to reach up to touch the tip of the sky....receiving kisses along the way.

I took these photos last summer in my friend Jen's garden. Her home is one of my favourite places to take pictures because there is a feeling of smiling creative energy in the air and it just seeps under my skin. Jen always lets me wander around her property, usually with 3 or 4 dogs in tow and a few hens keeping an eye on us. I think she knows how much it helps me alleviate any built up stress and tension of the work week..... My wanderings allow me to take in deep breaths of fresh air and to let out the weary ones.

This weeks theme at Carmi's place is "floral..." Thank you Carmi. It was great to revisit last summer. It filled me with the anticipation of all that is good of our short summer months, and revved up my desire to get back out in the garden again.

losing it....

a mere suggestion

one speck of a whisper
can trip us into an
awakening soaked in
yearning.


a sheer glint of light
one soft touch on the temple
can move us into a
place awash in
souful exploration


a seered mention
one knowing nudge
can transcend us into a
world of imagination
where being lost
can lead to finding
bliss


may i make a mere suggestion?
perhaps we need to get lost more often.

_______________________________________

This week's Sunday Scribblings prompt is "lost"....it's a good place to be. Check out more offerings by following this link... it may be the beginning of a beautiful journey into the unknown.

meetings....

I spent the majority of my morning in a meeting. Normally meetings make my toes curl in my highcut go-go boots and my bum shapely ensconced in my power suit skirt wiggle in the chair. I rarely get comfortable sitting through a litany of items and believe it or not (big surprise here) I can't keep silent. Sometimes to stay focused, I write erotic poetry and draw penises on the printed agenda. Today, however, I was at a monthly meeting I enjoy attending. Why? Because it is outside of the ho-hum bureaucracy, right in the middle of community where life happens right in your face. I didn't draw a single do-hickey and i somehow stayed clear of words that rhyme with stuck....

ok...i'll get serious now.....

Once a month for the past few years, I have been involved with a group of women who work in the frontlines with individuals and families who are living in domestic abuse situations. This network of community based organizations and a few representatives from a couple of appropriate government departments and the university formed after we were invited to attend a workshop on the topic and realized we were all doing good work, but doing it in separate silos. When we began to consider how complicated and convoluted the maze of services must seem to someone who needs to access them and access them quickly, we decided to form a network in order to learn more about one another thereby being able to help someone in need more effectively. And it is working. If a person "enters" into the convoluted myriad of services through one agency but needs to access another, we now know who to call and how to help that person.

Two of us co-chaired the first two years.....me and a wonderful woman I got to know through this process who has run the Sexual Assault Centre in town....and for many years the only one in the province. Like any new group, we scrambled and stumbled a bit at the beginning before we could figure out a first year gameplan and some guidelines. The first guideline....no bullshit. We meet for two hours once a month, the minutes are roughly taken by whoever pulls the short straw and not all anal retentively compiled and collated and sprayed with perfume. Key stuff is documented and distributed through email. No big whoop. The second guideline....keep the atmosphere relaxed in order to comfortably share feelings, concerns, ideas and information. Simple stuff, but warmly embraced by a group of women who just wanted to get to know one another in order to make sure the people in crisis who need the services are getting what they need.

Interestingly, the gameplan came out of the guidelines. The first order of business....sharing. For a year an a half, we all had a turn presenting information about ourselves, our career roles and backgrounds and the services our organizations provide. Because it was an open forum, we all felt comfortable speaking up, asking questions, gathering more information, offering suggestions and cleary, VERY clearly seeing the gaps in what our community was providing. And whenever we saw one, we tried to rectify it by inviting others to our network. For example, we realized very early that services for people living with mental illnesses weren't adequate for their needs when they found themselves in abusive situations and that many in the frontlines didn't know how to help them. We also realized that women and children of immigrant families, whose cultures and languages may be barriers to understanding the legal system, their rights in this country and then how to access the services when everything in the telephone book is written in English.

Since it's inception, we have created a directory for others to use and a flyer small enough to slip into a pocket or wallet with all the phone numbers of services needed for anyone who is being abused....everything from legal aid to safe housing.....from individual and family counselling to victim services. All of our offices and colleagues have copies of this to hand out. We've arranged for funding to begin providing outreach counselling and intervention services to rural areas in the region. We've shared the responsibility of facilitating various workshops to one another. My knowledge of the legal system is much more thorough than it was a few years ago, and it helps when I'm counselling someone who has just confessed to a life in hell and needs to escape it FAST. This spring, we are piloting group workshops for which will run in tandem....for Moms and their children....helping the Moms learn how to help their children process the violent experiences they have all endured.

All good stuff....
All good stuff.....

Our next project as we continue to spend two hours a month with one another (and doing much of the work in between.....) begins in May when we meet for a full morning to brainstorm the creation of a speakers bureau. Because one of the key aspects we have learned is that around the table sipping tea and coffee and swapping thoughts feelings and ideas is an amazing group of women who have a multitude of gifts and knowledge to offer to others. All ages, all backgrounds, all political and philosophical angles....are represented....in both official languages of this province and then some.


I get to lead this one. Can't wait to have a go at pulling out the ideas sitting quietly in everyone's noggins.....engaging them in a productive brainstorm that will include some serious talk interspersed with some good laughs to lighten it up. A speakers bureau......all having to do with Awareness.



good stuff....and it came out of a meeting. who knew THAT could happen.

ps.....just so you know...i don't own a power suit. i dress like a gypsy. it's much more fun.