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.

sweet spot

After determined muscle limbering of their legs, torsos and arms, they take their place to begin the warm up together. Just a game of tossing the ball.  The pitcher, approaches the mound, settles his feet into the comfort of his stance, and waits to wind up.  Not with heat.  Not yet.  It begins with a slow melodic tossing to his partner as they find their groove.

The catcher squats down into her position, her right hand inside the supple worn leather glove.  Balanced in the comfort of her body, she lifts her arm straight out to prepare for receiving the pitch. The warm up begins.  Back and forth in a rhythm they have created together.... he pitches, she receives and tosses the ball back to the mound.

throwing and catching

throwing and catching

rhythmic resonance

back and forth

warming up

sometimes in silence

sometimes words of encouragement enlighten

back and forth

throwing and catching.....

sometimes

touching upon the sweet spot of the glove....

every now and then....

until it becomes more frequent

rhythm found within a sense of knowing

their complementary movement.

Again and again, it flows as they communicate with body language... signals, words, advice, compliments.....  Away from the rest, they pick up the speed.  He begins to practise various pitches.  Change up, Slider, Forkball, Knuckleball, are interspersed with his signature Fastball. Sweet spot.

The push and pull of power between the pitcher and the catcher continues until they relent a little. Both have strengths to use in the role they play.  An appreciation of each other's gifts moves the partnership into a different zone.  They know that in order to reach that zone.... where the fluidity of their efforts reach mastery,  they must use their physical and emotional gifts.  Caring focus.  Trust in one another.  It happens when care meshes with effort, when confidence meets up with vulnerability.

throwing and catching

throwing and catching....

care meshing with effort....

trust in one another....

complementing oneness

Confidence in their own skin,  in what they bring to the partnership is crucial. Respect and appreciation for the other's gifts is key in order to reach a place of equality. Taking turns leading while encouraging the other to reveal their best allows for the confidence to push the effort beyond any sense of work into a forum of limbered play.  It's the revealing that leads to stripped down vulnerability, when they show each other the raw rough edges of themselves.... It's never perfect.  If it was perfect, there would be nothing to strive for... nothing to motivate, explore, work/play towards.  

What it is, this game of tossing the ball is a deepening of a partnership with the same goal in mind.  To touch upon the sweet spot with heat.  At the right moment.

Out beyond the bubble of timelessness they have formed, a voice calls out............ Play ball!

The Year I Turned 50-Licious

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bring on the Pop rocks!  Happy New Year. 

________________________________________

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

half way moon rising......

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

renewal

Renewal is conceived in the heart of discontent. It begins to grow by the inner light of silent conversations with God until it breaks through the clay of blended souls.  

Hungry hope is its companion as is a broken spirit enraptured by the Holy one, whose breezes caress  the restless suffering with tender knowing.  Hope reminds Renewal to be patient with its re-emerging and to know that most of its growth will be invisible to the outward glance, but colourfully recognizable when the human who hosts it gazes inwardly.  

Through suffering we learn to surrender.  Through surrendering, we learn how connected we are to a greater realm.  Through  connection, we begin to feel loved in much different way than perhaps we have ever felt before. 

What may feel that an epochal event that shifts our gaze and FEELS like renewal  is merely a glimpse of a field of diamonds off in the distance.   Those tantalizing sparkling gems with winkly twinkle c'mons  have the power to awaken our hunger for enlightenment, to tickle our parched thirsts for a drop of understanding.  

But, Renewal doesn't occur because of one event.  It may be the spark that ignites the change in direction, but it is not the conclusion.  It may be the impetus set in the clay of blended souls...... the foundation we rely on for support as we ride the waves of change by taking one step at a time.  

Renewal in all of its diamond splendour is simply our crooked journey signmarked by our recognition of love dressed in complicated life riddles.  Eventually it leads us to a place we can call home.  To get to the field, we must walk unprotected, barefooted pierced by the nettles and thorns of suffering that scratch and sting.......that leave pockmarked scars on our flesh. 

We must walk aided and unaided.......taking risks, learning as much from our hurts as we do our triumphs, reaching out to give while being open to receiving the gifts we are offered.  By so doing, we learn that the clay of blended souls we walk upon?  We are a part of that clay.  We belong to a universe who shares the same feelings, who thrive and survive, who suffer and feel joy...... who nurture and are nurtured by one another. 

Renewal may be conceived inside the heart of discontent, but the light of its darkness seems to always shed rays on a garden of hope, inside the home, waiting to be discovered.   As pilgrims, let us continue to be surprised by the answers to the riddles......... those "love in riddles," for this is where our awareness resides.  Don't forget to tuck in a dash or two of humour into that journey knapsack of yours too.

PS.  Pip?  My first attempt at "transposing" the article you sent me. Let me know what you think........ xx

hidden worlds.

"There will be hidden worlds that shine...."

Bruce Springsteen

I walk in solitude, hemmed in by the tempo of synchroncity, a blur of jazz flirting like fingertips on a rosary. I hear the lifting of a veil and a quiet ping of spirits. They settle within the entwined echos of my footsteps lost on an empty street wet with rain. They haunt my drifting reveries with blessed caresses lightly dancing in the air all around this dark night.... spirits sacred in the boughs of sweet pine. They stay close to me on this lonely night of ten Hail Mary's until my own spirit rises up to join in the dance. And when the trumpet hits a single high note, our spirits slip effortlessly into the timbre of a holy space where mystery dwells in the ancient grace of mercy. 

In a world without end, we moved like spirits in the night....together. It made all the difference. 

We're never alone inside the hidden worlds that shine.

ps. this is a piece i wrote last year.  it was inspired by Springsteen's magical lyrics.  I tried to capture the same feeling he so masterfully captures.  I read it now, and it fits me differently.  In a good way. In a good way.....

river girl.......

She was never one to walk in a straight line.  Wandering suited her life tempo. You could describe her thinking process that way too, as she much preferred to allow her mind to drift into creating whole scenes of possibilities inside her head.....multi-sensory scenes fed by the flurry of interactions which made up her days.  More often than not, she kept them to herself. Every once in a while, she would share them with people who were open to listening, open to believing that truth requires a broader leap than even faith.

When she combined her wandersteps with her straying mind there was no telling where she would end up.  Maps confined her.  Routines bored her to a point where she would feel suffocated by the deadening air of predictability.  No, straight line ambling made her feel out of touch much more so than the freedom of embracing the mystery of an unveiled meandering. For it was then that she fell in touch with her faith.

Some would describe her as an anchorless nomad, who wasted time. Flaky and terminally beyond practical matters were their opinions.  Others found her unconventional manner beguiling and wished they could trade their own life trappings for one amber taste of a free flowing spirit.  As much as they were captivated, however,  they were tentative about whether they truly wanted to know how vast the realm of the unknown was.  Some seemed to accept her ways without question.  But most people didn't even notice her.  For them, she was an invisible human being whose life never really mattered in their own lives. 

Interestingly, she noticed them. 

For those who paid attention,  they all agreed on one aspect. She was a river girl.  It suited her to be close to unstill waters that drifted from a mystical source.  They could see how much they were the same; how her spirit blended in with the spirits present in the moving currents which created new patterns as it flowed in its unfolding, and cascaded freely towards the open tidal bay.  The same description applied to her. Like the river, her journey was full of surprises.  Her life steps complimented the character of the river and in fact it was where she preferred to meander.

Nothing triggered the broadening of her imagination than a visit to listen to the cold water echo nuances.  On most days, you'd see her standing along its banks, or sitting under a weathered old maple looking down stream, lost inside her dreams.  Sometimes when no one in her family needed her attention, she would set off for a short walk and end up stipstepping along the path until the sun went down...... the sure sign that she had once again lost track of time.

"A rambling stroll down to the river was like greeting a kindred spirit," she often said upon her return.  Hardly anyone understood what she meant, but that didn't bother her.  She was comfortable in her own shoes, with her own beliefs.  It was her truth.  

Strangely, or maybe not, her favourite time of year to filter the clarion sighs of the river was in the dead of winter........ in February when the bitter winds nipped reminders of hallowed stories muffled through winter shadows. At this time of the year, when the world was as quiet as a deep sleep, her whole being was captivated by a sense of being vibrantly alive.  

When the climate was just right, she could grasp the river sounds aching in grumpy indignation.   Her flesh felt pierced by the river's icelips leaving shivers under her woolen bravery.  It was like the river held onto its stories like a holywell holds onto tears and wishes until the silence pervaded the last surface rippling.  It was only then that there was enough trust to reveal its true identity.

Like a few others, the river girl instinctively knew when the long winter shadows formed along the riverbank, then and only then did they reveal their deeply held secrets.  This never happened during the summer months.  Shadows in July are used simply as shade against the heat of the light flowing day.  Shadows in February, however, breathe an ancient hunger, through frosty voices which scrape against their brittled courage.  

Their legends held the ingredients needed to awaken her ability to inhale the truth held beneath the frozen valley, and to fuel her awareness that she was exactly where she belonged............ part of the legacy of life surprisingly unfolding as it should.

part of something beautiful...

I stumbled across this youtube video on another blog and it simply took my breath away. I could picture myself in the audience listening to this man fill the space with wondrous sound images. As he sang this beautiful song, in my mind's eye, I saw him transform the Performance Cafe at the Greenbelt Festival into a swaying sea of people absorbing the positive swirling messages through a sense of communal love and belonging. I have no idea if he's ever played at Greenbelt before, but he surely should!!!

Under the star twinkling lights....

The artist is new to me. Perhaps he's well known across the pond? I don't know. What I do know is that I have fallen in love. Alexi Murdoch's gifts pull you into a holy moment of rapture.

If you have the time to sit inside the stillness of this song......

soulspace part two, looking out.....

This is a very rough attempt at capturing an inner experience into words. Part One is here.

The story wrote itself this morning and it came out of me very differently than I had anticipated! It's more detailed. I didn't get to the place in the story I expected to. I guess I am learning to digest and dwell more slowly..... finding patience in the spaces between the words, between the moments.

Obviously it has been churning away in my head, and I have verbally described it to my husband and to a few friends only to be overwhelmed by a rush of feelings. I have wrestled with sharing this beyond the people whom I normally share this stuff with, but there is a strong compulsion to give it a whirl.... why? I see it as an integral part of any book that will eventually rise out of me. I'm excited as I grapple how to integrate it with previous writings..... and how this one moment seems to be a golden thread that weaves in and out my learning.

This story may be uniquely decorated in a personal way, but the underlying spirituality of it is one many can relate to. It is also one that many would like to experience. So, I share it in its rough first draft, as it is, with some trepidation (because I am only guessing that others can relate., so it feels like a risk...) and with this quote shared by both my emerald friend Pip and my harbour friend Paul. It had always resonated with me because we all FEEL this way when we tentatively and fearfully step out of our selves... when we hold out our hand hoping a new friend will shake it with a genuine sense of fellowship. A sense of love and belonging, of unconditional positive affirmation is a universal yearning.

Why am I afraid to tell you who I am
because if I tell you who I am
and you don't like who I am,
that is all I have.

________________________

Part two of Soulspace.....

I can't tell you how difficult it has been to find the right the words. I want to describe how cosmically moving it was to arrive at the top of the stairs leading to the room called Soulspace to discover the two women who had originally told me about it earlier that day. I'm at a loss! The timing was impeccable! I'm totally convinced that our re-encounter was meant to be in a pre-destined way. What else could it have been??

I had been wandering around the Greenbelt Festival site for a few hours tired and aimless. I could easily have motioned myself to go there at any time. But, for some reason, it took getting to a place where I felt all alone in my exhaustion to finally point myself upwards ...... to the fifth floor of the Cheltenham Racecourse grandstand. WOW. I had absolutely no idea I would ever see them again, let alone find them sitting outside of Soulspace contemplatively looking out the window together.

Between our two life intersections, I hadn't had another meaningful conversation with another human being. I had been silent. My voice was directed inside as I observed the activity all around me. I had walked the grounds taking in the flow all the while thinking of a quote by Rabbi Abraham Heschel who wrote about taking part in the march from Selma to Montgomery Alabama with Martin Luther King. He described the march as worship.... his legs were praying. No words, just walk.....ACTION.

It was such a powerful image when I had first read of his involvement in the Civil Rights movement the very idea that we have the capacity to pray.... to connect in this way broke open the narrow minded view I had of the hand clasped, eyes closed version. Every step we take can be living in prayer.

I had foot-pounded out pictures in my head of my family, and of some of my friends....wondering where they were, what they were doing, how things were going with their day, which was 5 hours much younger than the one I was experiencing. I had picked away at a few niggling concerns, but never made anyone else privy to them. Its not often you have time alone when you have no reason to hear your own voice out loud while absorbing the activity unfolding all around you. It wasn't a peaceful easy thing to do either. I found it difficult but also needed. It took energy not to run away and hide.

I wasn't clear as to the underlying purpose of making this personal pilgrimmage happen besides having the opportunity to meet up with a few special bloggie kindreds to connect live and in person and to see for myself, to experience this festival which . Something told me, however, that the difficult feelings of being alone, surrounded by people drifting by ..... with a sense of being in the margins despite the crowds was an integral part of why I made this trip happen.

The warm welcome I received from my two new friends was both grounding and uplifting. When they turned me around and gently pushed me to the door with instructions to take my time..... to fill my boots...... I was crammed full of an empathic light so strong I could feel it vibrating on my skin. It really was a moment meant to happen.

No one else in the WHOLE world knew where I was except these lovely ladies. This thought felt both liberating and a wee bit frightening at the same time, but I had them "watching my back," so to speak..... they were looking over me.

Beside the door was a pile of stones in all shapes and textures. The note accompanying it indicated that you were to choose one of the stones to place on a growing cairn inside the room. Normally, my eye gravitates to stones that have a shine to them, that feel soft to touch, that have a hint of colour to them. Instead, I honed in on one made of sandstone. Somewhat heart shaped with a tiny piece missing off the side, it seemed like the perfect one for me. I picked it up, opened the door, stepped in and was literally hit with a flooding of emotions. Don't ask me why.

Whomever said.....Life doesn't consist of the breaths you take, but the moments that take your breath away hit the nail on the head! There wasn't anything tangible or visible to my naked eyes that prompted me to feel so strongly. The only way I can describe it is that my own open energy responded to the warm comfort I found floating in the atmosphere. It took my breath away and left me gulping a shudder of awe. Or was it an ahhhhh?

I bolted to the washroom to pull myself together. I mean really! Get a grip!! I hadn't even stepped fully into the place and I was a basket case. Deep breaths, deep breaths....... and back out I went again to explore this venue, which on any other weekend was most likely the press area for Steeplechase races. However, on the weekend of the Greenbelt Festival, it was a space to fall into, body and soul. I was ready to fall..........

I slowly ambled around as quietly as I could so not to disturb the others who had sought their own solace in the still comfort. There were little alcoves set up for meditation, writing, and praying. Off to the side individuals were speaking quietly one on one with Ministers. When I reached the front of the room, I was left absolutely gobsmacked by the view that ran the length of the room. Windows, reaching up to the ceiling in large panels opened up the room onto a vista of dramatic cloudy skies which framed the green rolling hills and the Festival tents below.

If you build it, they will come ....... in droves. It was BEAUTIFUL! I could see it ALL from my bird's eye view, and knew that every single individual down below held many life stories, which held many reasons why they were THERE. People moved along the paths connecting the venues like a flow of buzzing hues. Camper tents in every shade dotted the outskirts. It reminded me of a coat of many colours, a quilted shawl created by the people who loved this place.... this happening. Their tent tapestry tucked around the perimeter of the festival seemed to give it a sense of security.

Were they all looking for answers? Maybe. Seeking a sense of belonging? Perhaps. Feeling lost? Wrestling with secrets? Sharing their stories? Filling their boots? Yes. Everyone was there to fill their own unique boots in their own unique way as they intersected, interacted, contemplated, meditated, sang out loud, prayed quietly, as they shared a meal, met new people, embraced old friends, filled their heads and hearts ..... as they immersed themselves in a community of their own creation.

Open-hearted joyous passion within the coat of many colours was unfolding that Saturday afternoon. It was all there to view...... My head was swimming as I looked out......

I stood there watching this life play unfolding for a long time (I think it was .... I had lost all track of time actually) until I felt this pull to sit down in one of the empty chairs facing the windows. 5 days of travel away from the security of my family and home, living on 3 hours of sleep a night, feeding on zippy nervous energy and excitement, I was bone tired vulnerable.

As soon as I sat down, my eyes closed. I took in a deep breath, exhaled and began to focus on my breathing. It was all I seemed to have the strength to do. Strangely, my body found a comfortable position automatically..... my back against the comfort of the back of the chair, my arms open resting on the arms of the chair, my legs slightly open with my sore feet flat on the ground. It just happened....... The only physical discomfort I felt was the rough heart shaped stone against the palm of my closed left hand which felt dry and grainy. My symbolic little stone scratched and kept me in the here and now, as Father Henri Nouwen described, "Living in the Spirit....."

"If we could just be, for a few minutes each day, fully where we are, we would indeed discover that we are not alone and that the One who is with us wants only one thing: to give us love."

I realized that my settling into my own soul space was happening as naturally as a crawling into my own safe bed. Depleted, I began to find a rhythm. Depleted, I opened up to a discovery that I was never alone. All day long, I was not alone.....

more to come............. :)

where do you think i am?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

becoming an adult....

Pip in action:
Growth does not reside in a place called comfortable....

Time keeps marching on and i try my hardest to keep up. But honestly, how in the heck did 49 years pass by so quickly? The best we can do is to pack in as much living as possible and savour it to the fullest. Not just the big whopping mind blowing moments, though those tend to stick their necks out most predominantly and become our personal milestones.... but the day to day morning glories too.

This week has been a blur of activity.....from meeting and greeting 200 new students to the College, to sitting down one on one with a few who needed some reassurance during their transition back into the classroom, to kicking off a night course I'm teaching on Crisis Counselling, to organizing my own family and home for the beginning of the school year. There have been trips to the store for school supplies, a meet the teacher night tonight (I'm not impressed let me tell you with the caliber of teachers my son has this year.....but will wait on the final call on that one....) to dealing with incompetent bureaucratic systems to crashing on the couch last night in what was probably the most rivetting and important speech Obama has made since his inauguration. You know you're a tired puppy when you fall asleep sitting up while that guy is speechifying! It has been such a great week!!!

My life is full and i'm very happy. It is frantic at times, but I work best when I'm juggling many things at once. It energizes me and my brain cells. Too much down time and I become a unfocused slug. In the middle of the beautiful melee of living right smack dab in the centre of many fronts, I realized just how content I am. The only word I can use to describe it is "integrated...." That's how I feel. And the only way I managed to get there.... to a place where I'm firing on all cylinders again .... admittedly the first time in years, had all to do with 4 days at a racecourse in Cheltenham when I immersed myself in the Greenbelt festival. The late evening/early morning talks back at the hotel played a huge role in it too.

I knew I needed to get there. I didn't know why. I just knew my "want" had turned into a "need." I knew it was an integral part of whatever journey I am on. There were key "happenings" which I hope to be able to capture in words soon that in all honesty altered my thinking, my feelings.......and placed me on a different axis. A few important decisions were finally made. My outlook now shines from a better angle..... it simply happened after carrying them around for far too long. Enlightening, inspiring, challenging, and fun. It was also difficult. It was in the place of difficult where I grew the most. Not surprising.

Greenbelt was a destination that I thought had a beginning and an end. I was so wrong. The lessons I learned, the reflections I fell into, the moments I stayed right in the long now are a part of who I am and how I am seeing my life and the blur around me. There is a calm.....there is more patience. There is enthusiasm and less fretting. There has been a disconnection from the rubbish I had to endure over the past couple of years.

Pip sometimes asks on his blog..............How old were you when you became an adult? I thought I had already crossed that threshhold. I thought I had passed through the passages while experiencing the big whopping mind blowing moments. It wasn't until I was sitting alone outside of the Performance Cafe on the Saturday night listening to the music inside the tent, that I realized I had become an adult that day. Something clicked when I started to think about where I was physically and spiritually, where I had been, and letting go of where I may end up.

Becoming an adult, I realized was learning to let go of life's control panel, and to find a different kind of comfort in the vulnerable side of difficult. The only way you find that comfort zone is to recognize that letting go..... surrendering ...... can take you to a place where acceptance greets you with a nod. I may have been sitting there all alone, sitting off in the margins thinking about a very special "Greenbelt moment" that I had experienced earlier in the day, watching the Greenbelt world go by...........in fact a group of teens disguised as minstrels strolled by, stopped and then spontaneously sang the most movingly upbeat version of Amazing Grace I had ever heard....... there was a feeling of infinite possibility in the night air.

Today........I turn 49. Today, I think I can confidently state that I'm finally an adult. Better late than never eh? Man, that was a long adolescence!