delight

Spring, the season of delight begins with discoveries so enchanting it lifts spirits out of cocoons and offers the gift of wings. 

Softly coloured lightness, delight touches hearts with whisper breezes that tickle like pink feather boas wrapped with spontaneous glee.  

With crocus determination, it turns trouble into carefree bubbles on a blue sky canvas freeing our hope once overshadowed by heavy linen. 

Delight pleases the senses, sending rippling goose bumps up our barefooted limbs until it reaches our lips leaving wide smiles.  Wide eyed smiles.

Delight is....

Daffodil giggles ruffling in tall grass.

Pleasing music strummed by revelation.

Shared laughter of little girls skipping on the street.

Mirth that decorate spiritwings with iridescent flutter finery

Melting chocolate surprises on awakening taste buds

Chickie peeps celebrating their feathery birth.

Delight is......

the dawning of wonder.  

the first note of renewal.

the awakening of love

the yeast rising in joy

the emerging tip of grace

that leads to a wondrous sense of gratitude....... 

predawn renewal

 the mystic keens
his secret night aches
heard only
in the rustling
tendershoot leaves
and in the windblown pine
of his beloved wood.

 

he stands alone
deep in the wild
searching
for
an echoing answer
an echoing answer
knowing they are only heard
in the thin precipice
of dawn



it is there
inside his tearsoaked soul
the kneeling spirit weeps
her song of love
unburdening him 

of untapped yearnings
with her soft unspoken presence



silently

he leans into her moist tears

and prays....

into the sound of an answering echo

resplendent relief cleanses

his loneliness like 

an april shower pouring kisses

on bridled faith

smiling, 

his eyes closed in comfort

the mystic 

inhales

the aromatic earth of the woods

like one who belongs in nature

his wildwood prayers were heard

just before

dawn awakened a new day

ps..... i couldn't sleep and began to wonder about mystics and whether they have big doubts too at 3 am.  the echoing answer was a resounding yes.  that thought comforted me, knowing even the most devout have sleepless nights, and there isn't a darn thing wrong with that.....once in a while.

happiness unfurling...

Joy and woe are woven fine,

A clothing for the soul divine.

Under every grief and pine.

Runs a joy with silken twine.

William Blake

Sunday morning .... skies were cloaked in dark grey. Draping down to touch the hilly fields, the clouds hovered to the riverbend. Rain fell straight like a fine spray evenly soaking all that it touched, feeding strength, encouraging growth.

Newly planted seeds, row upon row.....fresh budding leaves, tender roots unfurling......germinating under the grey laden rainspray skies.

'Tis the season where light moves us from the insulation of darkness. Even the gloomy skies can't forgo the feeling. In fact, the alchemy of colour POPS out of the grey.....with dramatic vitality....from the dreary dross comes golden touches.

If happiness were a colour, I would choose the innocence of green in spring. Its open vibrancy tantalizes the eye with the fullness of future potential.....as happiness does to the heart. Tender green shoots.....our nature exposed to the elements, joy woven with woe. It is a risk to be exposed. Happiness does that to us....we are more open to risk when we choose happiness....but I'm thinking its one worth branching out to....

possibilities.

Early Saturday morning and I found myself driving 4 beautiful 15 year old girls to a weekend at a summer camp about an hour and a half away from town. They have all applied for jobs as CIT's (Counsellor in Training)and are competing against 28 kids for 16 positions. The whole excitable crew converged at the camp with the Director and summer staff for a tryout of sorts! They were so cute, and so excited and so nervous and knowing how psyched my own daughter has been throughout the winter as we approached this formidable weekend, I'm sure the other families have experienced the same jitters along with waves of doubts and bravado .

Still on the verge of innocence, though worldly in their own ways….knowledgeable and aware, their anticipation of what lies ahead was contagious! We stopped at the "Blue Canoe" Irving Big Stop on the TransCanada for a treat and off we went.......listening to their great choices of "indie" music while driving off the big highway and out into the country side, following the Saint John River south…..

You would love the scenery and landscape….the big beautiful trees….pine, birch, maple, towering evergreen, oak, cedar……., undulating hills and beautiful still water painted with reflections of the shoreline. It always makes me slide into a natural calm, like I feel when slipping into an old sweatshirt and a pain of worn in jeans. False pretenses and quickened paces disappear, packed away in a forgotten memory of "must do's." What is left as I find my way back to the countryside is an ambling soundtrack, strummed by someone who loves getting lost in the harmony, hunched over their guitar as one. There is a sense of reveries revisited, like the pull of a paddle on the sleepy surface of the deep bluegreen water below.

As we continued to hug the shoreline, the river widens a great deal and it has a feel of a lake where the camp is situated. This too holds familiarity for my own travels towards a place I hold dear in my own heart. Though my camp experiences happened many years ago, in a completely different part of this country, the scenery coupled with the excitement swirling in the conversations in the van allowed me to completely understand where these girls are in their lives, and what they have in store for them as they hold onto hope of being one of the handful chosen. Its funny, personal camp experiences............camper or staff........they all have the same bucket of feelings and very similar memories are gathered.

As I drove along, I longed to be sitting there as a 15 year old heading down the camp road again.......I guess we never lose that. Its not often I feel the urge to want to return to a younger age. But, when it comes to camp...........I'd do it over again in a minute!!!! And do it all the same.!! Even the big emotional roller coaster stuff that goes with adolescence.

Clouds and sunbursts……and new green where everywhere. I love the green of the season in its infancy….fields renewing….. a few deep purple blueberry fields restoring their growth…. Lovely cottages tucked along the river…….huge bales of hay rolled and left from last autumn…. Red roofs, tin roofs, big old country homes with scraped white peels and longed for porches that you know come June will be decorated with porch swings and bright colourful wicker, all to catch summer breezes. Inviting and private at the same time.....familial stories, ancestral ghosts creak into the large pine planks painted deep green.....whispers of the past......up and down the hills, turning off the country road onto another and another.......closer to our destination and the energy heightens.....

The girls went a little beserk when I pulled into the camp road…..squeals of delight and terror at the same time….were they going to be chosen???? It was LOUD! It was HILARIOUS!! These calm "I'm not nervous. Are you nervous??" teenagers let out a collective wail! I distinctly remember the feeling…..all youthful adrenaline surging hope, tumbling with the what if's….

I pulled into the driveway, and we all piled out of the van quickly……to be accosted by the familiarity of pine curled in wood smoke, and mossy mulch layered under the bare budded trees….the girls ran ahead to be enveloped in a large group hug from last summer kindreds. My heart felt full.......my own yearnings to feel the heat of my own kindreds surged through me. All these years later, I still have deep longings for those times. The sense of belonging never feels as sweet......

After a short stint…just to make sure they had all their gear…..and one last piece of advice "Just be your beautiful selves!!!!" .I got back in the van alone…. And took the long way home….. Just me and Mr. Springsteen…. And a view to die for. Layers of my armour fell off………possiblities visited…..I stopped and took photos whenever I wanted too, and thought about how much I would love to show you my part of this world.

I think I'm a country girl. Worn jeans and an old sweatshirt, a pair of comfie shoes that fit my sockless feet...... I feel most beautiful in that attire. I am my best sheltered in a cove of tall pine or standing in a open field surrounded by green innocence and bales to climb...... the possibilities are endless. Come join me?

time suspended

suspended between the blue shaded darkness
where light awaits on the threshold of time
liminal time
open ambiguity of the unknown
under the clock stars of night
straddled illusions resting in sleeping dreams
where reality of daylight awaits on the platform
behind the horizon
to take centre stage
in a fire of colour bursting up into the sky

Between now and then
meditative silence surrounds whispered hopes
streams of relaxing thoughts stir slowly
culminating in breath focused anticipation
birthing transition
liminal thresholding
blood and sweat pushing
of new life

fear and excitement collide
through the barrier of dreams
where blue shades fade into the light of a new day.
now becomes then.......becomes now.

and it begins with a healthy cry
and it begins with a relief sounding sigh
and it begins with a heart melting high.

new life craddled in dreams.

I heard the birds singing this morning before daylight. Its a welcoming sound....one i have been yearning to hear again. To know they have returned to this place where sleeping willows stood naked in the pale winter light brings me a river of hope. It is life unfolding anew.

Today, I awake as well with thoughts on a newborn. She's three weeks old. I met her only a week ago. She was all wrapped up in pink fleece, with her beautiful perfect tiny face and alert eyes staring up at the world from her car seat. She melted my heart. Today, her mother is struggling for her life after a debilitating stroke on Wednesday. My thoughts and prayers are for you Lacey. May you soon cradle your baby again. Get well dear Mom. We are all pulling for you.

shine on....

The light of day is changing as we awaken with a desire to embrace anew. It yearns to illuminate the tender green growth still hidden from sight. Instead, it clings to the grit and dirt silently accumulated over the time we dwell in winter respite. With finger pointing accuracy, it hovers over the unsightly nicks and gashes which mark our living spaces. Its beam spots the blemishes on our aging selves caused from a long wintering.

The light of day, warmer and more brilliant invites us to turn our tired faces, wrinkled and pale towards the healing sky. It welcomes the chance to tweak our sun abandoned flesh with rosy cheeked kisses while it shoos away the annoying aches in our underused muscles by injecting energy back into our limbs. It feeds us with hope.

The light of day, spring in its step lifts up over the horizon with a dawning of pastel shades of potential. It melts away the stark coldness of snow and ice and leaves a longing to hear the return of the early morning choir held silent for far too long. It transitions our dark winter ruminations and reflections into a place where we can begin to act on making those much needed changes happen.

We have been stagnant too long, holding too tightly onto our wishes and dreams to a point where we have come close to strangling them. Our grip clenches with a ferocity of a drowning man holding onto a small piece of safety. Steadfast, and vulnerably hardened by too many accumulated bruises, we learn to adjust our eyes to the light of day. Tentative at first, we roll up the shades and lift the sashes to reveal the rays of laughter again.

Spring arrives today. Magnificent and glorious. Shine on! Thank you God. I thought I had been left behind and forgotten.

Fredericton flood, part deux.

My office downtown has no power and is closed until further notice because of the flooding. However, the river crested yesterday, so levels should be receding soon........much damage has been done and my heart goes out to the people whose livelihoods and homes have been affected directly. There are many...........

The levels didn't quite make the 1973 level, but very very close. My friend Charles has some AMAZING photos of downtown yesterday.........check out his blog...........there are a few pics that are classic!! He has one of two people in a canoe paddling on the ROAD near the underpass. And I love the one of the guy sitting on a bench surrounded by water! Charles also managed to capture the Premier seemingly walking on water. But the most dramatic shot Charles has shared is the one of Officers Square completely submersed.

(For my bloggie friends from other parts of this planet..........my office is half a block away from there...... )

Here is the link to Charles' blog.........he'd love it if you left a comment too!

Here are a few photos I took yesterday...............

Downtown parking lot........ .... in the background, the ramp from Westmorland Bridge.... submersed in the waters.... Below?? I thought the writing on the side of this car was hilarious given the circumstances......

Above: MacTaquac Dam.......working over capacity yesterday. The dam is located about 10 minute drive up river from where I live. It was a tourist rubber necking mecca yesterday! Lots of camera clicking happening there!!

Below: The Bucket Club and Hartt Island Campground, which is less than a mile from my home. The whole campground area was flooded.....the waterslide going right into the murky (and stinky btw) water! Lots to clean up after the water recedes!!

Above: View from Springhill Road..........no islands, just treetops....

Below: I think this guy wanted a starring contest. I won. Beautiful creatures, but so stunned!

Fredericton flood watch update........it is rising.

The river flows on it's own accord. We are in the middle of an emergency flooding, with expectation that the levels may even surpass the record high from 1973! With the rain from last night and the melting snow up in Northern New Brunswick, our river is swelling and spilling over fast. It's supposed to rise to a total of more than 8 metres expected sometime on Friday. If this happens, the downtown streets will become part of the river. There will be many millions of dollars in damage.
The media is swarming the place and there was a buzzing feeling downtown all day.......business owners, all levels of government, homeowners began bracing for the worst......emergency planning is in place........ Max and I went out and took some pics around dinner time. We found our trusty Mayor Brad Woodside being interviewed by CTV along the shore behind the Delta Hotel. Mayor Brad once had a riverboat which he ran in the summers as a touristy attraction. I think we could use that boat now, right your Worship?

I've included a few "Then and Now" pics to give you some perspective.......

The above photo was taken a week or so ago......below was tonight. By tomorrow, the whole parking lot will be flooded. They are expecting the water to spill out onto the downtown streets. My office has been evacuated as have many other buildings including the Legislature. The Beaverbrook Art Gallery and Hotel right next to this spot are already suffering from water damage. Power was cut in the government buildings at 7 pm tonight and the emergency fan out plan is in place.......people involved are on alert for massive evacuations etc.

I took the above photo in early March when the snow was deep......as you can see by the park bench! The walking bridge in the background? Check out the struts underneath.....with the flood waters rising, there is much less space between the river and the bridge. I was told tonight that the road on the other side of this walking bridge is closed.....and debris from a tire business is floating downriver.......

I took the above photo at the beginning of April when the snow was melting quickly. I love the reflection of the tree in the still water. The picture below was taken last weekend. No island....no tree trunks...no silouettes. I'll check out the same view tomorrow to see if these little trees are now completely submerged.

This is the entrance to the lighthouse, situated behind my old office building.

There were lots of onlookers out and about this evening. I captured this young ballplayer relaxing on a park bench which is located ON A HILL overlooking the baseball diamond. In the background is what is left of the back stop protecting homeplate. Looks like there will be no soccer or baseball on "the Green" for a bit. Canoeing has taken over.....

ps. My home is safely ensconced on a hill..........we are fine, and may be hosts to some friends who live in the downtown core.

Anne? Heather? You out there? If you guys end up having to bail out, there will be lobster and some of that "crazy cat" wine waiting for you....and you know the music here will always be excellent! Life can always be turned into a theme party can't it?

bring out the wellies...........

The Saint John river is rising and it hasn't crested yet. The ice from northern New Brunswick has broken up and is elevating the water levels downriver. Expectations are high that this flood may be a record one, and in fact the river has overflowed onto the old Trans Canada highway just past Fredericton. It's now closed until further notice and the homesteaders along that part of the valley, who cope most years with flooding, are on alert.

Max and I headed downtown late this afternoon to check it out and to take some pics to share. These are taken in the parking lot behind my old office building.........the walking trail as well as the little boat launch shed is under water.

This is a shot taken behind the Lord Beaverbrook Hotel. The water was lapping right over the outdoor patio and up to the back doors. Sandbags are piled up high along the back of the hotel, though I don't think they will help matters. Beside the hotel is the Beaverbrook Art Gallery......I'm sure they have moved many pieces out of there for safe storage. When the famous flood of 1973 hit this area, they had a great deal of damage. During that one, people were canoeing down Queen Street! The whole downtown core was under several feet of water. Though I've seen photos, I can't imagine it. And if it does happen again, my office will be seriously affected as it is located just across the street from this hotel.

This shot gives you an idea of how wide the river is...... .I'd say it's at least twice as wide as it normally is. The picture is deceiving too as the water looks murky but relatively calm when in fact it is moving quite quickly. There is a current pulling ice flows and logs and debris downriver at a fast clip. As Max and I walked along the shore, we talked of our appreciation for nature's strength and how respectful we must always be of it.

Our home is safely situated on a hill up high enough that flooding is never an issue with us. Perhaps tomorrow, I'll head down to the part of the river we look onto and take some pictures from there. The islands in the middle are completely submerged, with just the treetops visible. It's quite amazing. I think we actually made the national news. :)

a walk and a thought

The predominant colours outside this weekend is dull. We've had a rainy dreary weekend which seemed void of anything remotely colourful. If you were to take a quick wide angle glance, a swipe of vision, most likely you'd be inundated with grit brown ground, grey gloomy skies and a dark river chilled with ice floes. Snow still lingers though it is the ugly slushy kind.......a mixture of granular ice, leaves, salt and what will eventually be loamy mulch that will feed the lawns and gardens. Remnants litter the sides of the roads and pathways.......castaways ranging from tennis balls to forgotten touques, all soaked from a long winter covered by this year's accumulation of snow. It seems like we are surrounded by a brokenness only felt during the transitional time of year when we all need time to stretch the moans out of our hibernative lives.

But, if you slow down and give yourself time to focus, your wide angle glance has a chance to settle on the beauty of the bruised land. And if you quiet down the noise, you can hear the choir of birdsong warming up as they return to greet eachother after their winter vacations south of here. At first, the chirping and warbling comes from an invisible place........then all at once, you SEE them, along with the squirrels and other small animals flitting and flying and scurrying about, busy in their work building new homes.

I went for a walk this morning under the grey gloomy sky, along the gritty grey road, up the hill from my home to the road I often venture on. Every season, this road, with a view of the Saint John River Valley has offered pleasing multisensory gifts......... and I wondered if I could find one today. I wasn't disappointed. Chickadees, sparrows, robins, starlings, a couple of morning doves, a big crow..........all showed up. Some where tucked in the branches of the trees and I only spotted them because I heard their cry and so I stopped to look more closely.

And there they were..........little chickadees tucked in amongst the brown bare brambles with a flint of yellow on the wings winking at me............robins, so busy, busy, busy dropping down on a spot of bare grass and meeting up with their freres in an old maple tree. They were everywhere. Beauty was everywhere............in the soaked fields still covered in snow, in the reflections along the river bank down below, in the brambing branches of the alders along the side of the road.

I realized as I walked back down the hill towards my home that what I had seen perhaps was the artistry of realist painter, Andrew Wyeth who had the ability to capture the beauty in the lonely solitude of a dreary early spring day like no other. Life has so many hues and sometimes when we are in a frame of mind where our own melancholy mood reflects upon the landscape, we can't see the various tints and speckles hiding like treasure for our weary eyes. It takes a softening of our senses to welcome the opportunity to see our world through the eyes of appreciation.

"I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape. Something waits beneath it; the whole story doesn't show." Andrew Wyeth

march

Westerly winds cast downward in gusts of weeping grey

shivering through stark spaces of lonely birch bodies

with long fingertip branches

reaching a hollow sky

like a prayer that has lost it's way

in the wet remnants of weathered tears

Affirming colour fades into a landscape of dulling dusk

light filtered through clouded apathy

scraping energy

from willows too tired to weep

from pine too burdened to stand tall

casting shadows no one can see

in the grey powdered pallour of mourning.

Flickering dots alight whistling safe haven streets

opening blurried eyes refocusing gold on grey hope

seeking out the sound of reassurance

it's rays stretching out

to tickle invisible shadows

like a prayer seeping soundwaves of lights

over the land too tired to lift it's head.

Nature's canvas last night really seemed bleak while my dog Lily and I walked up on Springhill Road. At first, it knocked whatever energy I had left at the end of the day right out of me. I found my thoughts to be swirling in negativity as I swore at the black and white and grey landscape. The clouds blocked all hope of a sunset. There would be no moon, no stars last night. Out of the blue it seemed, wet snow began to drop unpredictably.........just enough to be irritating. I walked on while Lily made her way along a snowbank in search of a stick.

March in Canada is definately not a time to be promoting tourism. The sleepiness of hibernation still aches in the bones of this nation. It's true. However, so is the dogged determination to fight back..........to get outside, to plan for spring. A little bit of sunlight to begin the meltdown of accumulation carries a medicinal essence which is craved and sought. Everyone may look too pasty to be healthy. Winter coats and paraphenalia have a sorrowful look of a well worn uniform. Mittens, which have long lost their fancy fur to mottled overuse, are seen like roadkill on the sides of roads. Winter boots reek of telltale cycles of wet and dry and wet and dry. Salt stain remnants tatoo the season.

We seek out colour...........in our clothes, in our food, in our music, books, creative endeavours...........spice and colour to reinforce an awakening. Dark colours are replaced by shades of Easter affirmation. Depression has an opponent now that we're nearing the transitions of the seasons..........a four letter word..................HOPE.

The vista canvas I saw last night at dusk was like a black and white photo. It stretched as far as I could see up the Saint John River valley..... In it's own way, it was starkly beautiful. Then, the streetlights came on on the other side of the river. It was like someone took the photograph and wired it with dots of light. Have you ever seen one of those kitchy pictures? It resembled that kind of scene. The warmth altered automatically, as did my energy level....... as did my love for where I live.

We have very distinctive seasons here and I like that a lot. March (and you could argue November fits this bill too) is a season all on its own I think because of it's feel of deadness and apathy. It's like a forgotten prayer.........or perhaps one that no one hears.....muffled in the wandering aimlessness of the day. It's the persistance of spirit that remains unmuffled, albeit hidden under the layers, which helps us appreciate the gifts of nature just waiting to be uncovered.

Our appreciation runs deep when one is just waking up from hibernation. The sap is running................sweet sleepy life tastes golden.

updates and thoughts........

It's early evening and all is quiet. I'm hoping to hear the sound of a snowblower revving up on the street........one of my many neighbours with that kind of toy who will save me from renting a jackhammer to clear out the end of my driveway. I tried to shovel the stuff after work when I got home, hoping it would've loosened up a bit from the warmish temps today. No such luck. The storm that hit yesterday brought snow, ice pellets and rain which then froze over like cement by morning.

Does this not sound like a little piece of hell?

However, I do have hope. This is a street filled with boys with toys. Charlie, the cigar chomping Hummer driver with a superb francophone accent, AND a pick up truck with a plow on the front of it isn't home from work yet. Normally, on his way past my house, Charlie will get us out of a snowpile jam with his pick up if he happens to be driving that vehicle. He's a little heavy handed and footed with his help and has in the past dug up the side of the driveway in his attempts to be neighbourly....... the last time he helped, he heaved up the snow and blocked off the side door and the whole side of the house with a 10 foot wall of the stuff. But, he means well........ and if he could just plow by tonight, I wouldn't care if I can't use the side door until June.

Perhaps if I made a pathetic swipe with my little Canadian Tire shovel and then had a coughing spasm in the middle of the attempt while standing under the streetlight so the neighbours could see me, then I would be rescued. Its a thought. So is waiting until tomorrow when it's supposed to warm up again............

The problem? If it doesn't get done tomorrow.......... another f****ing storm is arriving on Saturday and I will be DOOMED!!




********************


I'm home alone. While I write this, my daughter is in Florida for March break with her friend, staying with her Grandparents (my Mom and Dad). I just got off the phone with her. They just made a successful trip to Target (a store not seen in these parts.......). I laughed when I heard the Ladies who spend their winters in the Sunshine State, remarked to Martha and Rachel when they arrived poolside in their teeny tiny bikinis and their lily white bodies......... that they better be careful in the sun with their virgin skin. Ah, New Brunswick winters have the magic of turning anyone's skin virgin like again. It's immaculate.

My husband and son are also away...........on a road trip with another father and son combo to Boston! As I write, they are ALL sitting in an IMAX theatre getting blown away by U23D!!!! Their itinerary today? Big breakie at Denny's.......tour of Fenway Park........Aquarium to see sharks........U23D at the Aquarium Imax............dinner somewhere and the piece de resistance? The Toronto Maple Leafs vs. The Boston Bruins.


As much as I would LOVE to be lying on a beach in Florida with my virgin skin, I would LOVE to be tripping it out in Boston today with the boys.



**************


Tonight, I didn't make dinner. It was grand. Instead, I ate a whole bowl of fresh strawberries and washed it down with a glass of wine. I positioned myself in the big comfy chair by the window in the living room that overlooks the river..............facing west. I tried to ignore that fact that the river is frozen over and covered in snow cement. Instead, I thought about how LOTS of snow is a good thing for strawberry fields, and raspberry bushes. I wondered if it would help protect the blueberry hills........and if it would hinder the maple sap running this month...... I realized how it may be a good thing for my perrenials all dormant and desperate to seek sun again.

And while I enjoyed my strawberries despite the distance they had to travel to reach me at this time of year, I caught sight of the dancing light on the rooftops on the other side of the river....I watched the sun slide behind the hills leaving wisps of pale orange....... I stared at the naked branches of the huge oak trees in my neighbours backyard, enjoying the silouette strength they exhibit at twilight, remembering just how gorgeous they were in their autumn glory and thinking how beautiful they will be when they bud in newness.



This winter has been drudgery.........no doubt about it. And, it's definately not over. As much as I would like to escape it right now....... I wouldn't trade my home for another place to live. Why? Because, there is nothing like seeing and feeling and INHALING the first true signs of spring after a long hibernation when you live in Canada. There is a sense of thanksgiving, hope and accomplishment all mixed together on the first day I find myself mucking about in my garden. I do love living where there are 4 distinct seasons. I guess if one could eliminate the month of March, then real true spring wouldn't be so exquisitely sweet.


The game is on TV.........hockey in March is never a good time for the Maple Leafs but maybe my two men will bring them some luck tonight. At the end of the first period? It's tied one all. This game has been on the calendar since Christmas morning when the tickets were presented to Max.........I hope it's a barn burner for his excited pleasure.

make it happen

One idea.........one little thought seed has the capacity to take root just by tapping into your own reservoir of Will. If you let it. Our will captures those free floating hopes and dreams and magically turns them into tangible goals. It is the courageous force behind action. This radiant energy propels us forward, possibly onto a new and somewhat unknown path, with confident vision.

Will............our gift from God, lets us

seek out purpose


clarify intent


energize dreams

let go of our burdens

feed our faith

hold our hand as we take aim

lighten our steps

SMILE from ear to ear..........

See it in your horizon..........feel it in your spirit...........let it lead you to your goal. Let your Will make it happen. Mold it with your own hands and heart.

a string of hearts........

bleeding heart forest

Some wear theirs on their sleeve, while others keep theirs tucked away.

Life in the frontlines continues to tax one with respect to how much you give of yourself. It sounds so selfish when I write it that way, but I believe it's just as important to be aware of where you heart is and how much you allow it to bleed. You have to care for yourself first.

You can easily bleed to death. And then what? You have nothing to give after that. This often occurs with people who are awash with a sense of idealism which leads them to believe it is their responsibility to take on everyone's problems and solve them for them. Often fed by personal political and/or religious philosophies the bleeding heart, blinded from recognizing their own need to be perceived as a caring good person but wracked by their own emotional schemas, aren't helping.

We need to walk with a person, not do the walking for them.

Sure we always need to be open to sharing and breaking bread with another. We always need to recognize the times when we must provide the buffet of sustenance, especially when someone else's cupboards are empty. But, we also must appreciate the importance of helping someone find their own independent path to self-sufficiency. Even as parents, we need to ensure our children learn to be confident in their ability to provide for themselves.

When we do too much, we do more harm. We end up bleeding to death.

Then there's the other side of the coin..........the hardened burn out who negatively smears all individuals with the same paint of rejection. Sometimes these people, who have somehow managed to find themselves in the helping field may not be hardened by burn out. In fact they may have actually experienced many of the same life events and have learned to hide their hearts in the forest with the false belief ....."I've been there and got out of the muck, why can't you?" And you know what the underlying message is to this attitude? "Lazy! Quit being so bloody lazy. Pull up your socks and get a grip......" or something like that. This attitude and approach does just as much harm. Not only that, it is completely disrespectful and rude.

Wounded bleeding hearts are hidden behind obnoxious behaviour.

However, there are times when a bleeding heart does need to be tucked away from sight....when direct confrontation or a more "business like" approach is necessary. But, guess what? This can be accomplished respectfully........ there is never a need to respond to someone you are in the role of helping with disdain. Respect is showing heart.

Consoling listening, heart on the sleeve............versus a closed heart hidden away from human massage. Perhaps they both bleed in different ways.

In order to be effective in the field of counselling, one has to know one's limits and one's triggers. It is so easy to get pulled into a story and lose perspective. Life drama is enticing, an alluring drug for anyone with the propensity to be a "helper." There will always be individuals who pull on the strings, or who irritate you just by revealing their wounds. But this is never their stuff.....our reactions to others culminate from our own stuff. This is what we need to be cognizant of.

--------------------------

Today, I had a conversation with a co-worker who is at her wits end. Trying to help out a well known individual who has a raging reputation from past confrontations with the frontlines but is now older, ill, defeated and in desparate need of intervention and advocacy, my colleague has met one big wall after another in her pursuit to try to help a dire situation. She has experienced a very different client than in the past.....some of this is because the client has been beaten down by a system and has no recourse but to surrender to help, but I also know that my colleague's approach has been from her heart. Consequently, the response from this notorious client has been very different. He sees and feels respect and understanding, he acts and thinks accordingly. He learns that this heart is listening.......REALLY listening, and he learns to trust and to ask for help.

The conversation ended with a discussion on being "nice," and how that is all it really takes.....to be and to show that you're nice and people react positively. Scary really....it hardly takes any effort to be nice to someone and yet we are surrounded by people whom it wouldn't cross their minds to be NICE. Hidden hearts aren't nice.

Such a nebulously Canadian word, isn't it? Nice. Supposedly etched into the Canuck psyche......we're perceived as a nice bunch....kind of vanilla really. It may be vanilla.........but it can pack a wallop. Why? Because "Nice" is the water spring where hearts bleed for others, where empathy is conceived.......where we drink from the cup of humanity.

ps. Deb? the photo is for you................. xo

Little boys of summer....

"Marilla, do you think amethysts are made from the souls of good violets?"

I sat on a hill, my bare feet in a patch of violets and new grass.
It was the first time this season to feel the grass between my toes....to revel in the beauty of the tiny violets sprinkled by last year's breezes. My favourite quote from Anne of Green Gables came to mind.

The sun was quickly losing it's heat as it competed with the brisk spring wind. Summer is not fully here yet. It's taking it's time this year to warm up unlike the last couple of years.

But that's alright.

Everything is green again and the little boys are back playing the game of summer.

50 boys have taken the field, excited and thrilled to be back in play....stretching, running, and learning to throw straight. Familiar sounds of the game.......the ping of the bats, and the thunk of the ball landing into the gloves are interspersed with the rabble of the players. The first practise of the year is always the sweetest because it is the one dreamed about and talked about on those snowy January days.

I was not alone on the hill looking down at the diamond Parents mingled casually as they sipped from their Tim Horton's cups. Some had managed to get home and change into jeans and sweatshirts, while others were dressed in their suits and dresses having rushed to the field from work. Our days were different in many ways, but one thing is certain. We were all juggling, working, living, coping, managing, planning, meeting, compromising, interacting, winning, losing.....grinding through a busy day.

But, for 2 hours our busy worlds stopped.......at the ball field. And it felt good.

The day was over and an evening at the ball park put life into perspective. It never fails, I am always struck by the continuity and comfort I find there as I watch my son take his turn practising his swing. Just like I did. Just like his sister does. Just like his aunts still do. Just like my Dad did. We will be seeing them all this weekend, and more than likely baseball will be a major part of our conversations.

Roger Angell, a columnist for the New Yorker and lover of the game writes, "Since baseball is measured only in outs, all you have to do is succeed utterly. Keep hitting, keep the rally alive and you have defeated time. You remain forever young."

ON a day when family members are far away planning the celebration of a life well lived, it is good to spend time with my feet in the grass watching life unfold amongst the flurry of little boys playing a game that potentially can continue into eternity.

Like good violets who become amethysts.
forever young

ps.....Dad, if you're reading this.......Roger Clemens is starting against the Jays on Monday........Max wanted me to point this out to you and to let you know he's quite aware that Clemens will most likely make it into the hall of fame and how thrilling it would be to see the Rocket pitch live. see you Saturday. We will be bringing our gloves just in case anyone wants to throw the ball around in the backyard.

winter frigging wonderland.....

no biking today, april 13th

It's amazing how one's perspective can alter so dramatically. Had I taken these photos last December, my enthusiasm would be soaring. However, given that it's supposed to be SPRING, these scenes are not welcoming. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Beauty is affected by one's perception and perspective.

front yard, April 13th

This is the scene we woke up to. Schools are closed. Life is disrupted. Slush fills the garden beds and streets. By the time I got to my office, I had two soakers from having to walk through the slushy mess clogging up the streets and a desire to turn around, head home and crawl under the covers with a good book.

OK........it is pretty.................but enough already! I want spring!! Bring on the Tulips!!!


frosted pussy willows, april 13th

shhhhh.........

April 12, 2007

The view from my living room.

I pause for a moment
and think of the love and the grace that God showers on me,
creating me in his image and likeness, making me his temple....

This early morning, I sat in my livingroom in the dark, and watched the morning vista evolve. There is a point in time when night transitions into dawn before light takes over the sky. It is a moment of anticipation, before the sun blinks over the horizon when the land and the sky merge to form a ribbon of colour. Tangerine, with a hint of yellow and red.

The river touched by the bare tree silouettes flowed eastward still carrying remnants of winter ice.

The land on the other side of the river was spotted in the glowing night lights, glimmering shivering in the chill of the season, protecting the community still fast asleep.

Quiet calm and contemplative, I sat and watched the glory of morning arrive wondering if anyone else was enjoying the vista, watching the colourful transitional pull of spring, anticipating a new day, feeling safe and connected to my tiny part of the world.

Hope awakening

This is my favourite time of day.

a new day, fresh with no mistakes......

Hall of Famer Dave Winfield,
Game 6, bottom of the 11th, against the Atlanta Braves
Game and World Series winning double.
1992
I can still hear the roar.
It was a thing of beauty.

Robert Frost once stated, "I never feel more at home than at a ballgame," and I have to agree.

Whether it's entering a major league shrine like Fenway Park or Yankee Stadium or sitting in the bleachers watching a local little league game, there is comfort in the continuity of a baseball game. It is as familiar to me as my favourite old sweatshirt worn every spring when it's time to clear out the garden. However, baseball has been a part of my life MUCH longer than my favourite sweatshirt.....LONGER than I can remember. In fact, some of my earliest memories contain snippets of sitting with my Mom watching my Dad play 3rd base, eating Cracker Jack and singing "Take me Out to the Ballgame......"

Baseball threads through my life..............from games watched, to games played to games watched again...............and along the way........my learning and enjoyment of taking in 9 innings continues........and begins fresh again today as starting pitcher Doc Halladay and my Toronto Blue Jays begin their 2007 WINNING season on the road in Tiger Stadium. Granted, they start their season up against the World Series Champs of 2006, there is a never say never attitude adopted by every fan, including me. Just ask a Red Sox fan..........

never say never................it's not over 'til it's over...........it may not be the team with the best looking stats going into the season. It may not be the team who triumphs at the end of the season who is picked by the sports journalists. It just may be the team who plays well together, with an extra hunger in the pit of their bellies who will win. AND, it may just be the team from Canada who has a winning starter with a wicked fastball who may pull it out all over again. We'll see..........

no matter what happens during the long season, I'll be watching and listening........and taking part in the score.........

Baseball has it's own musical score composed of echos of past triumphs, perfect games, the thwack of the bat hitting a homerun ball, of crowds standing in a communal cheer of excitement over an amazing catch in left field, or the louding bronx like jeering at a pitcher who's lost his magic spin on the ball.......of the intensity felt during the bottom of the ninth when the game is tied...........of drama unfolding in front of your eyes.

Who will be the homerun king this year? Who will pitch the first no-hitter? Who will make the most diving catches at shortstop? Who will lay the perfect bunt? The most exquisite slide into homeplate? Who will be pulled up from the minors for "the big show" and succeed beyond even his wildest dreams?


I love it all.................let the game continue for eternity.........

And, may the most inspiring team win.........................Go Doc! Go Jays!

"A swing, and a belt! Left field! Way back! Blue Jays win it! The Blue Jays are World Series champions as Joe Carter hits a three-run home run in the ninth inning and the Blue Jays have repeated as World Series Champions! Touch 'em all, Joe, you'll never hit a bigger home run in your life!"
Tom Cheek, Blue Jays commentator calling the homerun that won the game for the Jays in 1993. GLORIOUS!!