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

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

Walk on.  Walk on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

"I had the same gut feeling."

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

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

_________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

Blessings and offerings.......

Life altering lessons in a place of discomfort.  

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

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

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

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

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

_________________

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

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

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

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

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

_______________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

resentment as dark as a long night

A noticeable crimson tinged  her cheeks stemming from a wave of heat spilling out of her bones while she stood there listening to the same weary words. Extreme opinionated garbage spewed out in a manner that reeked of disturbing righteousness.  Caught in the time between flashbacks and the same old thing, she nodded politely while her flesh rippled in defence.

She never complained. Nor did she ever dispute the person standing in front of her rambling on in a self absorbed manner..... sermonizing beliefs like they were gospel.  She never stopped the conversation even though this other person's diatribe scratched her sensibilities, plucked her anger, and rubbed against  her values.  "No one really wanted to hear what she had to say," she thought.  "So what's the point of fueling a potential head butting confrontation with someone wearing blinders?"

Instead, she swallowed.  
That was what she was taught to do. 

Chew with your mouth closed and swallow.  
Hard.

Stuff it down.  

"All of it,"  the voices bellowed inside her head.

Respect others.  

Don't make waves.  

Don't react emotionally. 

Learn to take it. 

Deflect.  

Intellectualize.  

Ask questions. 

Keep the conversation going on an even keel.  

No one wants to hear your opinion. 

She kept swallowing, having learned well.  As a peacemaker in a sea of entitled sharks, she learned to keep her feelings in check.  Feelings are bloody.   Sharks love to feast on the blood of emotions.  Whenever she had slipped up during her childhood  by speaking her mind, by spilling some of how she felt, the hungry sharks ripped the flesh from her soul.  The scars, invisible to the human eye were visible if one was paying attention.  Paying attention meant listening for what wasn't being said.  Few bothered.

Over the years when the voices around her rose above the emotional timber treeline she learned quickly  to step into the woods ..... to cover herself with armour.  Unfortunately, the armour was such a heavy burden.  It was getting rusty too.  Holes were beginning to form.  Cracks in the armour began to exhale used up air out allowing the  noisy scratchy emotions to seep through. 

Echos from apparitions.  

Long ago arguments.  

Nasty accusations.  

Emotional manipulation.  

Screeching.  Bleeding.  

Ripped muscles on bones.  

Abandoned kindness.  

Unresolved meaning.  

There was no escaping the hurt as it pounced on the stored feelings.  The bottled up, swallowed up unresolved conflict turned into a resentment as dark as a long night.

Raging fear had accumulated deep in her bruised soul.  It had been stirred as it stewed, moving right into the marrow.  Sinewy sins percolated as she ran the other way......... away from the powerful need to 

SHOUT! SCREAM! ACT OUT!  EXPRESS HERSELF!  

But that wasn't allowed she told herself.  That wasn't being good.  It wasn't kind.  Besides, no one really cared about what she thought or how she felt.  Her opinions didn't matter.  She didn't matter. 

Instead............ she poured herself a double scotch, downed it in one gulp.  Then, she poured herself another and another until the resentment resided again. Just like her Mom.  She chose to be numb.

Gratitude and Humility

Let this be a rambling outpost tonight as I make an attempt to catch up to my thoughts and emotions which seem to be flying out of every orifous on my body! How's that for a pretty visual? 

Ok, let's start with 5 words, eh Beautiful Human Becoming GrandPip?

Scrambledeggsheaded

Lonelyhearted

Jumbledinnards

Deeplyseated

Surrenderedhuman

You know, sometimes all it takes is to find the words that attempt to describe the state of mind and heart for the uncluttering to begin.  You speak them, write them, express them and the power of the feelings lessen.  Focus begins to replace the flooding.  Awareness is invited through the door of the soul.  My 5 made up words brought me some smiling levity.  Silliness reigns!

Deep breaths....... in and out, in and out....... slow presence breathing....

Here's she goes....

Today started off well and then went into decline around 9 am after I left the Market when I allowed myself to relax and fully recognize the significance of Thanksgiving in my life and the lives of my family.   Hands down, it is the most loved dinner I prepare because the whole weekend is filled with the goodness of gratitude and the humility of stopping to remember the importance of sharing our harvest with others.   The meaning and the symbolism of preparing a meal with that in our hearts fills me with joy.  I love, love, love providing the meal for Thanksgiving.  So, it isn't surprising that I am having a tough time this weekend coping with the changes and the loss.

Since this morning, I have been shadow boxing with new and old ghosts.   Memories from way back of celebrating and giving thanks with friends and family in Spencer's Island and here in my home came marching into my presence.  Memories of last year's Thanksgiving celebration trumped all of them however, as I realized just how much my life had changed and I didn't even know it.  As much as I have tried to stop obsessing on this, I can't let go of the thoughts until I express them.  Do you have any idea how difficult it is to accept the fact that the life you were living and seeing one way wasn't that way at all?  It feels like a violation. It really does.

I am no victim.  I have no time for that mentality and I am fully aware of where my own head was at this time last year and how much it was impacting my marriage.  It was in stuck mode, trying to figure out what I wanted and trying my best to express myself.  However, I didn't express myself.  I was reacting all over the place.  Not responding. Reacting and making things much worse.  I couldn't be fully open to hearing what was being said and NOT said.  I was too angry and burnt out from years of shouldering things, which of course closed down any opportunities for intervention on my end.  And since I was the only one to have taken the lead on that, it wasn't going to happen.  I stopped asking.  I let resentment cloud my vision as I struggled to keep afloat trying to seek solutions. I was questioning everything, and the most predominant feeling I harboured was fear.  Yes, fear. I see that now.

• I was afraid to take a real honest look because I knew it was ugly.
• I was afraid to really see the disconnect and numbness being projected from the both of us.
• I was afraid to push for openness because I didn't know how it would impact his health.
• I was afraid I couldn't cope with maintaining the status quo or what the future held.
• I was afraid that I would remain stuck and life wouldn't get any better.
• I was afraid of being rejected even though I was already feeling its realness.

This is where I was at last Thanksgiving.  Truthfully afraid and incapable of helping to steer my marriage back to safe waters.  I was so foggy while defensively protecting myself that it wasn't until much later that I began to see the signs that someone else had already replaced me in the love department.  Today, a year later these revelations have surfaced.  I see the irony of it too because all along I have been told that my reactions and my expressed feelings scared him.  I scared him. 

Turns out how I was behaving and how he was behaving was out of fear. Fear begat fear.   Of course, I know now that he stopped loving me months and months before last Thanksgiving.  It was all a ruse. Even if I had lifted up out of my fears, it was too late.  Resignation had already happened.  I just hadn't been told yet.

So, where am I today?  Am I still fearful?  In some aspects of my life, of course I am but in a much healthier and productive way.   My courage is bright and shiny again.  Through the knee dropping humility and the comfort of learning, reflecting, expressing, grieving, grieving and grieving, I am finding my way as I continue multi-tasking throughout my days, and stepping out into new territories with a new feeling of freedom gratitude.  Insights, late nights, bright lights, and dark sights and a whole lot of tears has stripped me of the layers of resentment (though I have a way to go......).  So has the unconditional love and support of my friends and my family.  Thank God.  Thank you.

Life it seems is a process of neverending surrendering.  What gets me is that the more you surrender, the less afraid you become.  Who knew??? Maybe I missed this lesson when I was too busy stubbornly trying to be a fixer, failing at it and then giving up? Or maybe I misunderstood, thought it was a commercial and went to the kitchen to plug in the kettle?

• I looked at the ugliness and it ran away, replaced by growing beauty.
• I reflected on the reality of the disconnections and take ownership of my side of things, while learning to forgive myself and others.
• I let go of the responsibility of his health issues and began to address my own.  I have more to do in this area, but I am taking it one day at a time.  I still have troubles sleeping.  The anxiety still kicks in when I am alone falling asleep, but it will leave soon.  Feelings are just visitors with messages.  They eventually go bother someone else.
• I am not living in the status quo of last year.  I broke free and learned quickly that my wings will continue to unfurl, my potential only grows as I learn to let go, as I allow my confidence to meet up with my competence.  What stalls me at times is this unresolved fear of being rejected.  When you've experienced the ultimate rejection and that happens to be your trigger button, well........... it takes time.

What I fear the most did come true.  But guess what?  I didn't keel over and fall into a fetal position.  Ok, I did a couple of times, but let's just call that meditative moments shall we?  However, I didn't remain there.  I got back up.  Dusted myself off.  Put on a cute little black dress and got my sexy little butt out there in the world again with a bunch of new learning stuffed in my lacy push up bra.  

Why is it that our most important learning seems to have to germinate from an open wound?  Why is it that personal enlightenment and transformation only occurs in the middle of a messy shift?  Maybe the imbalance, lack of footing, discomfort hurt we experience is the best way of appreciating overcoming our fears.  Kicking at darkness until it bleeds daylight, sings Bruce Cockburn. There's a crack in everything.  That's how the light gets in., croons Leonard Cohen  I guess you've got to kick hard enough to make a few new light emiting cracks?  Beautiful Imperfection, writes Pip Wilson 

Tonight, I began this bloggie post with a scrambledeggs head.  I finish it in a very different place, with new awareness.  I will be attending a dinner at a new friend's place tomorrow surrounded by folks I will meet for the first time.  I'm very grateful and humbled that they are sharing their harvest with me.  I have much to be thankful for.  I know this deep in my heart. 

Happy Thanksgiving. 

overcoming fears.........

Won't you look down upon me, Jesus

You've got to help me make a stand

You've just got to see me through another day

My body's aching and my time is at hand

And I won't make it any other way

James Taylor, Fire and Rain

One of my biggest fears when I was younger was public speaking.  The very thought of standing up in front of a group of people made my heart jump into my throat and my stomach fills with flutters.  Pretty common fear, but it was one I was determined to conquer.  I wanted to feel comfortable leading and facilitating.  For some inexplicable reason this was important to me, even when I was 18 years old.

Deliberately, I decided to assume the role of leading the Sunday chapels at the camp I worked at for several summers.  I figured it was a safe first step towards finding a comfort zone, because Camp Kawabi as a whole was where felt the strongest sense of belonging outside of my family and Chapel services had always held such meaning for me.  

It also offered me an venue to share poetry and stories I had collected as well as some of my own adolescent writing  (you can imagine!).  Songs played a key role....the weekly choices tied in with the theme, which most often was a variation of one....friendship.   In fact, it continues to be a running joke that the only chapel theme was friendship.  It makes me wonder if all spiritual roads lead to the topic of relationships and heart connections.

For three summers, I assumed the helm of this time of the week......... really the only time a sense of hush and quiet communion in a week of boisterous activity. I loved both the challenge and the sense of accomplishment.  Yes, I was nervous.... shaky nervous at first, but some of my friends would stand at the back of lodge and send me  their smiling energy o boost my confidence.  I remember this as vivid as it happened yesterday.  I was also held up by an unwavering sense of magical reverence that prevailed over our little chapel moments and I know I wasn't the only one.  My confidence grew as I found my leadership voice in a place surrounded by nature's strength and the glow of the beautiful faces staring up at me.

It's hard for me now to believe I was ever afraid of standing up in front of a group facilitating or delivering anything.  Sure, I get the jitters every once in a while, but they quickly flee as fast as they arrived as soon as I start talking and get into the flow.  It seems to come natural to me and I'm always left afterwards with an exuberant amount of pumped up energy.  So much so, that I can picture myself doing this much more and for bigger groups in my future.  

I like to revisit the time when my first steps were taken to overcome this fear and have done so a lot lately because I seem to be standing right in the middle of many new fears and I need to learn how to deal with them.  They overwhelm me at times.  They leave me feeling frantically scrambling to get away from them.  Sometimes, these new fears leave me bewildered beyond my usually reliable common sense, in a place of self doubt.  I want to yell out for help.  I want to hide.  I wish someone could take control of them and shoo them off!  What helps to slow down the panic is the knowledge that I have a history of facing my fears........ of being a strong person and learning how to rise above them.  

Our feelings are guided by our thinking.  How we think and what we think about fuels our feelings.  They are intertwined alone with how we choose to act.  Its impossible to disconnect them.  Its possible to alter one by altering the other however.  When I begin to feel the fear of being alone, or the fear that I am destined to live out the rest of my life without a partner, or that I stumble thinking about the myriad of responsibilities I have as a parent to try to help my kids face their grief .... to mourn how much their lives have changed, to help them with their fears, I tremble with a slew of mind bashing tangled feelings..... fear is a stew of them.  It can weigh you down so quickly that even a bathtub of water feels like the deep end.  

The way I see it, the best way to overcome them is to reach back into the treasure chest of previous learning for a revisit.  I picture myself standing up in front of a group of kids and peers leading them in a moment of meaningful community and I can feel my strength rebuild inside me. All of a sudden, the negative voice in my head begins to fade as it is replaced by a much nicer voice that says.......... 

"You can do this........."

It helps.... the inside strength of previous successes through lessons.......... it helps.  So does knowing you have people in your life who care.  Really care.  

The very last chapel I organized at camp included introducing and teaching the song "You've Got a Friend."  Initially, I had taught it to my campers...... a group of 15 year old girls whom I had the good fortune to have many of them under my wing for a couple of summers.  We were very close.  We practised the song throughout the week, and prepared to sing it together for the rest of the camp.  

Just before it was our turn to do just that, an ex-staffer who was visiting camp for a couple of days, and who had been in charge of chapel when I was a young camper got up and talked about what it was like to be back at Kawabi.  She shared her observations, her feelings, and left everyone with a message about the importance of the friendships made.   My group and I sat behind her on a bench listening to her heartfelt words and as "Trick" continued with her story, I was flooded with the reality that it was my turn to say goodbye to a place I loved with all my heart for the very last time..... that one day, I would follow "Trick," returning as an old staffer.... that my 12 summers were about to be a memory.  WELL, you can guess what a mess I was. 

Somehow I managed to contain all of the feelings churning inside me......... until after thanked Trick for sharing her beautiful thoughts ..... until after I introduced the song .... BUT only until AFTER I uttered the first line.........

"When you're down and troubled................................"   

Then, I melted.   Surrounded by my group of girls,  I simply lost my voice.  I lost my legs.  I lost my ability to lead.  Every thing that I had originally feared happened.  But, you know what happened?  They circled me.  They kept singing.  They put me back on the bench and carried on.  They looked after their leader by caring and understanding where I was and why I was feeling so overwhelmed.  

It was alright....... their reaction told me I had nothing to fear.  If I wasn't able, it didn't matter because they would help me.

I am not alone now.  As much as I am afraid of many things right now, I know deep deep in my heart and soul that I am not alone. I have a growing faith that surprises me with its intensity.  I also have so many beautiful friends and family who are one moment away..... one blink away.  I see it, feel it, lean on them as they do me.  The help me relearn the steps of overcoming fears, of facing them right between the eyes.  When the very worst feelings come calling?  

You just call out my name,

and you'll know wherever I am, 

I'll come running.

Winter Spring Summer or Fall

All you have to do is call.

And I'll be there............

You've got a friend.

Overcoming fears?  It's all about digging deep within.  It's all about reaching out and asking for help.  Its all about taking it on one breath at at time, knowing you have the capacity and resiliency to conquer them.  

tranquility through reflective moments.

cargo of emotions.....

There you are, clipping along life's highway thinking you've got it all under control.  Full gas tank, good air flow, the perfect collection of tunes to accompany the beautiful blur of the landscape you're passing on by. The road is yours....... no one else in sight for miles.   Freedom never feels more alive than an open road with yellow dashes of collective anticipation.  Sing away!  Drive on!  Motion forward.....  Life seems so manageable...... so optimistic.

Far away, in the rear view mirror, you see a large lumbering vehicle coming up over the lip of the hill you've just driven along........ gaining ground.

All of a sudden, you're struck by the force of reality, even though you distinctly remember firmly tucking it into the hamper, wedging it between "resolution" and "to be dealt with some other time."  This reality seems to have creeped up from behind without you knowing until its too late, like an oversized transport carrying familiar cargo.  Before you know it, this heavily loaded menace is sitting right on your ass demanding your attention, belching out exhaust stink while gearing down so loudly it drowns out the music and pollutes the airflow. 

Caught again........... and you thought it was going to be a carefree kind of journey.

There's no way to ignore it.  All internal systems move into alert mode.  Emotions rise to flood stage with a rapid force, pushing the adrenaline to kick start a temporary sharpness of the mind.  All you can do is pray that the rancourous vibration of the internal air horn doesn't bellow its shuddering baritone sound. 

Or, you can pull over to let it pass on by............ let the load pass on by.  While you're at it, turn off the car, get out and breathe.  Can you smell the fresh mown grass?  Can you see the clouddrifts.  Can you feel the lowering heartbeat?  Can you hear the voice inside you again remind you that it will pass?  It always does...... But sweet Jesus, it can be so loud and obnoxious and downright frightening while you're sitting in the middle of the cacophony of anxiety. 

ps.  no moving vehicles were tortured while taking this photo.  I was sitting still, as was the truck while we waiting for our turn to be escorted through a construction site on the highway.  He actually waved at me knowing I was taking photos. :)

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  .......

the power of a blessing....

I am sitting in the reliable stillness of my living room sipping on the first cup of reliable hot tea as I read this blessing in quiet whisper to myself this morning before daylight comes .... before my children wake up to start a new week  ....  before my feet really hit the ground running to help orchestrate a new week of work/school/life routine.   It may become a new part of my routine because by the time I reached the end of Father O'Donohue's blessing, I could literally feel a lift in my spirit.  I could hear his beautiful Irish poetic voice too. 

Many friends have warned me............ expect the "dips....."  It will be difficult for a long time.  So far they are right on.  As much as I expect the reality "dips," there is no way of predicting them, nor knowing presently just how deep the plunge can feel.  I expect the dips and when they come, I let go.  However, I also expect moments of release too.  And when they arrive, I embrace them with a full heart.  I give thanks to the support I have all around me, including friends who are far away, linked to me heart to hear through this blog. 

Sundays will the be most difficult day for me.  When it comes to Sundays, dinner and all the makings are a traditional grounding for me and my family.  There is nothing that I love more than Sunday afternoons spent at home cooking, planning, listening to music and interviews on the radio knowing my family is somewhere in the house doing their own thing.  It prepares me for the upcoming busy week, while it helps me clear my head. Yesterday, as I was told very clearly that there was no hope for reconciliation, no desire to work on the vows we took over 22 years ago.  In the middle of a Sunday afternoon. The dips arrived....... BIG TIME.  

Then they left me in peace.  It took a while, and it took reaching out and asking for friend and family fuel. But, I found peace.  By the end of the evening........ after I had made dinner and fed my family under a different scenario, I found myself sharing stories with  my daughter who cuddled up onto the couch to introduce to me a new song........ one it turns out she listens to every night as part of her routine to find sleep.  We laughed and shared, and she helped me find peace. 

This morning, it is my turn...... to lead them into a new week, a different kind of week and routine. Similar but different.  Because now?  Now, I have these beautiful words by Father John O'Donohue to lift me up out of resentment for a while to see hope to give thanks.   Let daylight begin....

Matins

Somewhere, out at the edges, the night

is turning and the waves of darkness

Begin to brighten the shore of dawn.

The heavy dusk falls back on earth

And the freed air goes wild with light.

The heart fills with fresh, bright breath

And thoughts stir to give birth to colour.

I arise today

In the Silence 

Womb of the Word

In the name of Stillness

Home and Belonging,

In the name of the Solitude

Of the Soul and the Earth,

I arise today.

Blessed by all things,

Wings of breath

Delight of eyes,

Wonder of whisper,

Intimacy of touch,

Eternity of the soul, 

Urgency of thought

Miracle of health, 

Embrace of God.

May I live this day.

Compassionate of heart,

Clear in word, 

Gracious in awareness, 

Courageous in thought, 

Generous in love.

John O'Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us.

Expect the dips.........embrace the moments when a blessing can carry you back to hope.  I think it will be a new mantra to help lead us into the unknown.  One day at a time, right?  One day at a time.  A new one is dawning...........  I arise today.

summoning up an honest reflection.

Whatever happens to me in life, I try to hold onto the belief that despite the messy complications and uncomfortable madness littering the way, there is potential for sacred lessons to settle my soul.  All it takes is summoning up  the courage to take that first step, right?  

Sometimes I think I miss the lessons because I'm looking the other way, or I've detached from all that is happening around me.  It's not that I don't care.  It's more because I'm not ready, or I don't feel like I can handle coming face to face with the lessons.  Like every single human being, it comes down to protecting myself from harsh realities, exacerbated by a stubborn refusal to take any responsibility for the messes.

It's not my fault.  I didn't do anything wrong......... Don't blame me. Wow, we're quick to pass the buck aren't we??

New learning means change.  Sometimes change is not a welcome visitor because it has the capacity to hurt deeply.  Sometimes change is downright frightening.  It can foist me into unknown territory without the armour used to protect myself from owning up to what I have added to the messy complications. What cements my feet in hazy hesitation is the fear that I won't be accepted after I have apologized. I mean, what happens when I ask for forgiveness, but it isn't received?  What then?  Just the thought of it makes me feel bare.

I've been revisiting the Parable of the Prodigal Son.  The part in the story when the youngest son has hit rock bottom after losing all of his inheritance and belongings through selfish acts is where I'm stumbling. It irritates me.  I don't quite believe how smoothly it is all resolved.  The story is so short that it just doesn't feel like he's suffered enough.  Or maybe I'm just a masochist at heart.  

It seems like all of a sudden, after wallowing in his mistakes for a wee bit of time he thinks........... "ah, if I just go home and apologize..... own up to my fuck ups and all will be forgiven...."  It just seems too swift, too easy and kind of manipulative.  I mean, did he REALLY feel responsible thereby guilty enough for how much he had messed up??  He had hurt others so deeply by mistreating their generosity. He abandoned them and went off to live detached from the ones who matter, from the ones who love him the most.  Yet, in one swooping embrace with his father, who is grateful to have his son home alive and well, the Prodigal Son admits that he has sinned and states that he is not good enough to be his father's son.  Poof!  He is forgiven and life goes on. 

It seems to me that true forgiveness isn't that easy.  Giving it or receiving it.  However there is no way to weigh it or measure it to ensure its the right amount.  Mercy is a feeling, not a substance.  Or maybe it is.  Maybe it is a substance that has to fully fill one's heart before it feels legitimate.  A half-hearted apology spoken in harsh bursts sits like a lump in the pit of the stomach.  The kind of apology that is thrown out in words so light they float away in a soap bubble is so fleeting that it gets lost in the continuous messy complications and leaves a residue of questions. But when one asks for forgiveness in a timbre of honest vulnerability and is received by the same kind of openness, something melts.  Something transforms.  Maybe I just missed that layer of vulnerability woven into the story of the Prodigal Son.

The thing about parables is that they are springboard stories written in broad strokes, which leave room for discussion and ongoing contemplation. Their meaning as well as their impact alter in the mind of the reader because every time we revisit them, we are in a different place in our lives.  What jumps out at me today is different than what jumped out at me the last time I read it.  I have a new lens....... the angle is different.

Today, as I stand upon a crossroad littered with messy complications and uncomfortable madness, I realize that the part of the story I have the most difficulty with is also based on the character I can relate to the most.  And if I don't believe the Prodigal Son.... then perhaps I need to revisit my own believability.  It's a strange paradoxical feeling because right down to my toes, I believe I would absolutely forgive the people in my life whom I love unconditionally.  It feels like such a no brainer.  Of course I would forgive them! Wouldn't I? 

Then again, maybe they wouldn't believe me..... maybe I'm not as authentically believable as I think I am.  Maybe my actions don't appear to be redemptive to them.  Maybe my acceptance words don't hold the same substance as my non verbal actions..... my messages are mixed.  I need to look at whether or not I do have a full heart of forgiveness to offer. And maybe, just maybe I need to forgive myself first........ to empty my own heart by asking God to love me, the screw up that I am.    Can you forgive others if you don't know how to forgive yourself?

It should be so simple.  It never is.  We constantly run away from resolution, from owning up to our role in creating the messes.  Why?  Could it be that if we do, change will inevitably occur.  And it may just rock our worlds in ways we may not be prepared for.  Then again, doesn't transformative change hold the potential for sacred lessons to settle one's soul?  And isn't that we are constantly striving for..... to feel that sense of HOME?   

When forgiveness matters the most, when you are stripped down to your sparse broken self and the only thing you desire is to be loved, asking for it becomes as real as it ever can be.  Whether it fills the heart of another and takes them to a place of pure acceptance is beyond your control.  This is what is so damn frightening.  However, you'll never know unless you take the risk. Perhaps its best to start by slipping out of that Self encasement and having a real honest naked chat with God. 

I wonder if the Prodigal Son felt his strongly stirred desire for home settle in his soul when he fell into the warm embrace of his Father?  The parable doesn't tell us that.......... we have to look beyond the story and hope that he did....that THEY both did.

panic

Sometimes life just seems like an endless task of avoiding the truth. Every now and then your soul wakes up from a self induced dream state.........

to a hideous hangover
so stark, so raving, so real
you find yourself staring face to face
with all the lies you've swallowed.....
all the lies you've muttered
all the lies you've been told and had hoped against hope they weren't true.

you against them.

a pack of hungry lies
sitting in wait
ready to pounce
needy persistence pulsing desire
pushing on your temples
pressing down on your beating heart
with a pressure too painful to ignore.
blinding clarity and nowhere to hide.

panic sends streaking impulses into dead zones
bolts of fear curdling silent screams richochet
in the dark
as you realize
you realize
the lies are about to win.
the lies are about to your strip life
of the sinful colour you so intricately painted it.

Thank God we are such amazing escape artists.
sometimes...........

Its the other times that manage to rip your facade down to naked ugliness in all its flatulent glory that frighten me. Then, there is no where to hide from the panic. It's like being eaten alive.

bully, bully.

A bully is a bruised leader with a heart that bleeds weeping nails of steel. Sadly, they don't know that they are leaders because they are too busy starring in the role of raging victim, poking holes in the souls of others. Their pattern of behaviour which ranges from brutal physical attacks to sneering body language is frighteningly abusive. They lead by overblown power.

So, how do we help those bruised bullies transform into effective leaders?

Through relationship building by finding a way to past the chrome shield that protects the heart from being hurt again.

Through fostering emotional literacy and spiritual awareness.

Through effective listening and teaching how to express emotions productively and appropriately.

Through recognition and affirmation of their stories.

Through mentoring empathy, respect for others, and kindness.

By showing how to be responsible for one's actions........ to STOP and THINK before impulsively acting out from an emotionally charged place.

By developing trust, and nurturing this fragile essence in another.

well, that's a start.........................

Patterns of behaviour are very difficult to break if what you do gets you what you want..........

'til it bleeds daylight

Fear trembles bottom lips just before the day is done.
Anxiety heats unsettled souls.
Our eyes stop blinking.
During the last vestiges of gold light upon golden leaves,
thoughts stir and whir in heart quivering spin cycles.
Stark images project on our internal screens,
stoking ash remnants of our innocence and
revealing the harsh realities of our "what if" scenarios.

mind over matter........
what is matter?

does it....... matter?

yes it does.

All we can do is to try our best.
All we can do is to ask God to dance with us.
What more can we ask of ourselves?
What more can we ask of God?
We're only human.
We're only human.....

......caught like a deer in the headlights.

Hey, God? Can you please add me to your dance card?

rapture

.....alights after you take a big leap off the cliff into a deep dark cool lake. Arms splayed, legs kicking wildly, you fill the humid air with whooping bellows as you smack-hit the water with a flesh stinging force. You plunge under the surface only to pop back up stunned and a little shook up from the undignifed feel of a lake enema. As you tread water to regain your sense of direction, and to pull your swimsuit out of the crack of your sorry bum before you swim to shore, a calm moment surrounds you.

silencing bliss
quiet joy stirrings
a melting knowing

falling down, shouting out, plunging in, popping up, pulling out, then looking around in awe and new eyes....

rapture leaves you with a message that it has nothing to do with stoic dignity and more to do with flailing like a crazy person happy to be soaking wet alive.