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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To be continued................... 

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

Dear God, 

I stopped walking. My journey halted abruptly.

My choice.

I thought I was ready for a rest.

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

to focus on the daily tasks inviting me back

I thought I was ready for some lovin' fun.  

God knows I was lacking. 

It seemed like the natural inclination, 

to rest from a deep seated exhaustion

to recharge, rekindle the light of Eros.

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

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

directionless missteps with too many unneeded ones.

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

Instead, I spun around enough to make me dizzy.  

Spinning never gets you where you want to go.  

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

friction burns from assimilated repetitious actions

and a mixed up brain.

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

with high hopes of receiving a massaging balm

from strong warm hands. 

Tender touches

How I longed for those hands to hold me.

 

By then, my thoughts were jumbled,

my breathing was burdened,

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

Desperation only leaks from this chaos. 

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

Shadow boxing driven by the ache of loneliness

zapped my energy time and again.

I'd reach up to the heights of joyful anticipation

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

Boxing glove brutality. 

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

I didn't recognize them as illusions.  

No, I saw them as truth.  

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

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

They were the wrong open hands. 

Love amiss. 

Love is not one errant kiss.

Stuck in transit,

I wallowed in lonely unmet needs,

clouding over personal reflections.

I lifted up the mirror. 

No images formed. 

Just faceless silouettes arcing out of silver glass.

The yearnings market crashed all around me,

sending shards of desires through an already splintered heart.

I lost my way. 

I ran the other way.

I went deaf to the calling of my name.

Still,  I spun inside the yearnings of Eros.

I thought I was ready. 

I thought the comfort could be found in strong arms

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

I forgot You.

I forgot how to find You.

You let me feel the rawness of an unprotected heart.

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

I forgot the words of prayer.

Wiped out after pacing......

Stripped of all semblance of balance, 

I sought solace under the covers on hot humid days 

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

white noise to drown out a heavy heart.

 Stillness of an empty bed.

Last night, 

empty and disappointed, 

I remembered a few things. 

Your love is what matters most. 

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

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

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

Spinning at first feels like a fun activity, 

though interest grows weak 

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

At least it emptied me

Emptied me enough to let You in again. 

Just in time.

I will walk again...... 

forward, with two steps back every now and then

Still.

You under my feet, as always

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

Walking in prayer, 

unraveling the confusion.

finding solace

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

I will hear

Reassurance.

Love, the unconditional hymn you hum

to lost souls like me

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

God, will you hold up that mirror for me?

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

Let me hold the Hand I cannot see

and feel the warmth of being held again.

I am ready.  I am ready to pray again.

Will you show me how to again? 

the sweet scent of serenity

Spencer's Island twilight blues.....

"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change......and to recognize that peace can be everlasting.

God grant me the courage and wisdom to know the difference of what I can and cannot change."

Serenity. 

Has it become one of those well worn words, or does it still have a purity to it that goes beyond a bath oil essence? We do our very best to market it or bottle it or even sell it in dark alleys. We hang posters of it in our family rooms or offices. We sniff it, spread it, sit in it, ingest it. We have turned it into a mission statement for all recovering human beings.  Gee, I'm sure we've even made porn movies starring someone named Serenity. Condoms? Is there a serenity brand? Probably, along with a dozen or so sex toys all promoting a cascadingly erotic trip to serenity. I'm not saying that one can't find serenity after a rousing romp of steamy sex, but is that serenity or simply exhaustion after a release of pent up hormones? 

Hmmmmm...........good question, Awareness! Anyone have an answer to that one?

Well, let me give it a shot. (ok that was deliberate Anon!) Given that the definition refers to a state of peaceful being, it seems whatever leads you to that door is up for grabs.

Serenity. It's still one of my most favourite words......right up there with the word Bliss.  Though it's not one I use often in my daily life., because serenity and daily life don't seem to merge on a regular basis. This week, the word kept harmonizing in my head as I tried to strip away the fog of stress. It was like a mantra replaying over and over in my thinking.  When I was able to focus on the soothing cool waters that do accompany the sound of the word and the vision I have of its poetic contentment......?  I could feel its balm massage my temples.  I could feel a stillness just a fingertip touch away.....

Ah!   The sweet scent of serenity.... like the enticing aroma of crushed wild roses or the dainty scent of lily of the valley....  a lavender field in full bloom, a fresh cut lilac bouquet lingering a light essence in the breezes of a home.......

Calm cool quiescence........the warm encompassing feeling as one watches a beautiful summer sunset after a challenging day. It seems to soak into our pores like a salve or a lotion which moisturizes our parched skin when we've been away from recognizing beauty of the world around us. One amazing sunset can realign our universe and leave us understanding serenity more deeply....and longing for more.  We taste the sweetness of serenity and we yearn for more..... just one taste leaves your heart bleeding for more.

Yesterday, I had an impromptu lunch with two beautiful women.  Friends.  We're all going through our own difficult stuff and I hope they know I am there for them as much as they have been there for me.  When we get together, there is always a flurry of activity and chatting.... catching up like we havent seen one another in a long time and yet we have been in touch regularly for a long time now.  But it just seems as though so much happens in a spit of a moment that there is always a sense of a reunion. Today was no different..... and the feelings and frustrations were shared.  

Eventually, as we ate the most delicious homemade curry soup and fresh pesto green beans compliments of one of these friends, we began to talk about serenity......needing it, yearning for it..... trying to capture it even for a fleeting moment as a way to catch our breath.  As a way to breathe more evenly.  It seemed like an impossible task, to capture the glow of serenity, but interestingly as we began talking about our desires, the level of intensity in the air settled.  Our voices, once shrill with frustration softened.  The sounds around us became quieter.  As we simply spoke of the magic of serenity.  Like it longed to be heard.  

Whisper the word .............. "serenity."  There's no need for a prayer full of words.  You simply need one.....  "serenity."  You reach that place of comfort when time floats freely in the thinness of air, and it automatically leads you to the next part of the prayer.... "Thank you."

 

Though it can't be forced, serenity is really all around us if we just take the time to slip into it's magical soft scented powers every once in a while. It may mean a soak in a tub filled with aromatic essences, or an early morning wake up to be alone with your thoughts, or an intimate candlelit moment of lovemaking. It may be the feeling one attains after a completing a mid morning jog, or sitting down on a train heading home after a long day of interacting joyfully with a group of enthusiastic learners..........our serenities are as unique as our thumbprints. But, the feeling is always the same. It is a peaceful centred existence when all of a sudden we can honestly say.....

All is right in the world. All is right with the world....  For a moment, I touched the hem of Heaven.

May you find your source of poetic peacefulness at least once a day and may you share yours with a friend. 

 ps.  J and H?  Serenity is sorting through beach glass with glee allowing it to be the lead in a new fabulous piece of art. It will be the flow of the creative process that will lead you to its door......

across the waters.......it's so peaceful in here

I think I've discovered a new type of therapy.  Waterfalls Therapy.  Not the Niagara Falls kind..........the hidden in the woods, away from the world kind.  It's like finding treasure and serenity all rolled into one gift. 

Sometimes it takes a bit of exploring to find the falls, nestled secretly in the woods, out of view unless you know where to look.  But the journey is a part of the thrill of finding one of these treasures.  And in turn the first glimpse is guaranteed to put a smile on your face as well as the kind of child excitement that tickles you from your toes on up.

Our trek took us down a dirt road.  Initially, we walked too far because we were talking too much and missed the sounds we were supposed to be listening for.  When we turned back, we began to hear the rushing of water. Though we couldn't see the waterfalls from that angle, we took a chance and headed down a steep decline through the woods........taking it slowly and using the tree roots as footholds and branches as hand security.  As we made our way down, the view of the waterfalls came into sight.  It was gloriously cascading through a gorge which cut through the granite rock like a precision instrument and showered into an accumulating pool of cool, cool water.  The site was enough to take your breath away.

We made it down to the bottom of the falls, surrounded by the cliff gorge resplendent in pine and greenery ..... every single shade of green was present.  The sunlight filtered through the trees landing in patterns of its own making........ lighting various plants and ferns......... touching down on the moving water with a kiss of goodness.  With not another soul in sight, we had this little piece of heaven all to ourselves.  To say it was magical doesn't do it justice.   

A line from a Van Morrison song came to mind........ "This must be what paradise is like........it's so peaceful in here..." 

The irish have a term for that feeling when an acute sensory awareness of body, mind and soul merge into one.........when you feel that you are lifted up out of an ordinary life into an aura of enlightenment.  They refer to it as a "thin place."  You feel more alive and energized, but it is combined with an inner sense of calm that I can only describe as bliss.  When you reach this place the air is refreshingly oxygenated.  The more breaths you take, the more bouyant you feel. As your pores open up to receiving the happiness and hope floating all around you, it seems as though you reach a point where you believe anything is possible.  Anything is possible because you have been given the gift of inner completeness.

The feeling is fleeting......bliss never lasts.  But, the long term impact is life changing.  You enter a thin place, body mind and soul, and you are never the same again.  How can you be?  If you've tasted, touched, seen, heard and inhaled beauty, the lens with which you use to see your own world has shifted.  It reinforces one's belief in a Higher Power.  It offers you the best opportunity to slip a prayer into God's mailbox.  

You never ever forget the moment.  It is gratefully etched in memory.

On Canada Day, I quietly sat on a large rock in the middle of the woods halfway up a small gorge created by the flow of one river.  In front of me was an eternally cascading waterfall dropping down into a pool of water glistening in the morning sun.  Right beside me the water rushed past in rapid churning down to the bottom of the gorge where converged with another river forming swirling pools of water.   

The welcoming rumble tones soothed as well as exhilarated the thin air.........it's constant sound echoed off the granite walls in lullaby fashion, similar to the rolling in of tides.  I had no desire to move. In fact the whole multi-sensory experience allowed me to relax into a meditative repose of being placed right in the moment where time releases itself.  

Unburdened by all of the responsibilities and constraints of daily life, I sat in bliss.  In front of nature's altar, beside the rushing water, bliss kissed me.  And all the air went thin......... leaving me in a place of awakening I will return to in mind and body as often as I can this summer.

 Herman Hesse wrote, "Within you there is a stillness and a sanctuary to which you can retreat at any time and be yourself."  When you've experienced, JUST ONCE, the holiness of thinness, you have been given the key to finding that inner retreat again.  

The moments when you are captured inside a thin place may be fleeting, the sense of wonder nestles deep into our hearts where they glisten like prayerful gems, which reflect a dawning comprehension only felt when we are touched by God's grace.  Our lives are far more enriched when we are receptive to the possibility of this experience because I truly believe these may be our best attempt at understanding the mystery. 

imagine

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the language of silence

Do you think God speaks the language of silence?  I've been wondering about this for about a week now.  There are some people who swear they have "talked to God" and I can't say I've had a regular conversation with Him, but I know I've felt His presence.  Now, I wonder if I  actually have had a few chats over an emptied cup of silence.  

I have felt  God's presence when I have managed to slip into that comforting soulcove where the soothing sense of inner tranquility resonates peace.   It doesn't happen as often as I'd like, though I know I'm learning the directions to this sacred place and I seem to crave the opportunity to hang out there more and more.   When life is chaotic and complicated, the need for the simple elegance of silence to ward of the chattering noise increases considerably.

Lately, this is how I find it...  I turn down the volume by opening up to absorb the noises, slow the pace, let my muscles relax while I focus on one small item in my hand.  Sometimes its a smooth touchstone.  Sometimes I wrap my left hand with my rosary and stare at the light catching the beads.  I breathe, focusing on it the simplicity of breathing.   I close my eyes when I want to....... I open them every now and then to stare at the simple reverence of what I'm holding in my left hand.  Hope rests there, as I clear away the cobweb concerns, as I empty the cluttered spaces. 

Once I begin to absorb the external noises so that they don't feel like they are bombarding me, I move to the internal noise with the intentions of seeking .... Balance from the dizziness.  Comfort in the discomfort.  Energy inside the vortex of exhaustion.   I focus on the breathing.  Just regular everyday breathing.  If the feelings come to the surface, they are welcomed and then allowed to pass on by.

pass on by....

pass on by.....

until the silence arrives to fill the emptied spaces.

Today at church, I listened to a gifted man talk about the Holy Spirit.  Can't see, touch, or hear Her...... But she touches down sometimes when you least expect it, and sometimes when you reach into that pocketed soulcove and breathe.   Sometimes She has the capacity of catching your breath.  Out of the blue.  Into the light.

Tonight, after a whole afternoon of struggling with a major dip in the calm I thought I had found, which was caused by being triggered over a seemingly small encounter with a symbolic piece of technology..... a cellphone which  originally contained the information I needed to figure out who he was having an affair with, I retreated to my room.  I had tried many other ways to settle the noisy storm, with no relief.  Once suffering starts, it spreads like mind sparking wildfire.  I don't know if its just me, but as soon as I begin to spiral like that, its very difficult to stop it and just walk away.   It happens just too swiftly.

Sad, angry, feeling such a sense of failure for not being able to make this marriage work, feeling grief and rejection for knowing he is comforted now by another woman, (who seems to be reading my blog regularly.... Hi there!!) However, as soon as I decided to try to seek silence as I had previously, I was quickly able to find my core again.  As quickly as I can ROLL down that hill into deep sadness, I can now pull it together while sitting in the emotions all stirred up and spicy. This is where I am.  This is what I've learned from the turmoil of a failed marriage. 

I can talk to God in the language of his choice.  Silence.  Love.

Calm found me in the centre of absorbing the outside and inside noise........ just breathing.  It was right then and there that I could feel the piercing feelings loosen and fall away.  It was right then and there that I swear the Holy Spirit entered my room in comforting silence.  She's not an illusion.  She is in every breath we take.  Its just that sometimes our breathing is too loud and we miss out on the language of silence, where God dwells. 

Inner silence is the gift of grace when the Holy Spirit's presence is near.  

This is God's calling card.

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.

Elements

"As you grow, you develop the ideal of where your true belonging could be - the place, the home, the partner, and the work.  You seldom achieve all the elements of the ideal, but it travels with you as the criterion and standard of what true belonging could be."  John O'Donohue, Eternal Echoes, Celtic Reflections on Our Yearning to Belong

Lately I have been really struggling with errant thoughts about health and mortality.  I don't know why.  It happens from time to time and it impacts any semblance of routine i have in my life.  It pulls me into a state of awakened fear and anxiety like nothing else.  Panic just fills my pores.  It also messes up my ability to focus, to write, to find my grounding.  Does that happen to you?  I

t's like a massive jolt of caffeine to the soul and I have a very tough time shaking the intrusive thoughts.  It makes me question who I am, where I am, if everyone around me is safe, if I am fulfilling my life to the best of what I am capable of (no), if I am giving of my love and kindness as expressively as I can.  I wonder if this is all there is, and wrestle with trying to understand how others see me.  Basically, I question my sense of belonging and get all tangled up in a mess of self loathing.  Not pretty.  But, I see it as a shake up, a wake up.  The discomfort is motivating once I get unstuck from the inertia. 

Last night, I pulled a big armchair up in front of the fireplace and watched the flames being pulled up into the flue by the constant stormy wind which continued to gather momentum outside.  Each angry gust of cold winter air brought the gift of energy to the revel it shared with the flickering heat, whose fiery embers cradled the wood with snapping intensity.  It reminded me of two people dancing the tango.....their individual vitality is fuel for expressing the passion of belonging.

It is what we all strive for.... that feeling of contentment, the comfort of silent stillness in the middle of the dancing flames of belonging.  It's emotionally stirring.  It's a fulfilled longing to be a part of the activity.  Fire only breathes by the air it is fueled.  Our breath, our spirit is what fuels our internal fire.

What I have learned and absorbed from Father's O'Donohue's inspiring writings and beliefs is immeasurable when it comes to helping me regain my footing during times when turmoil swims inside me.  The depth of his faith fuels my own wavering faith.

For some reason, I am a believer when I immerse myself in his lyrical heartfelt writings.  I'm not so afraid.  I'm not so worried about the mystery of death.....of whether there is a Heaven.....of whether God will be there to greet me......of whether we get to live again in some capacity, our souls re-emerging from the clay he so often writes about.  His wisdom and the way he was able to articulate it has always felt like a lullaby to my contorted spirit.  His deep faith is believable, which in turn has allowed me to let go of my tightly held anxieties and believe too.  Unclenched, I have been able to breathe more easily knowing that I am guided by a higher power. 

I don't know why, but I didn't return to his books while I stumbled through this latest soul upheaval..... I should've.  Maybe I would've slept better.   However, maybe I needed to sit in the fear on my own again for a while in order to let go even more of it.....?  Doubt is a wake up call........it's just that you WAKE up and find yourself surrounded by mean shadowy fangs....... eeewwwwww!  It's like living in the middle of the Blair Witch forest!

Today is the anniversary of this beloved man's death.  It is beyond sad and I know many of his dear friends and family are thinking of him and wishing he was still amongst us.  Since the time I was introduced to his writing, I have been struck by the thought that there is no one else I can think of whom I regret not meeting face to face.  There is a bit of a mystery as to why he has touched me more deeply than any other author except one other....Jean Vanier.  Timing played a role.  I was ready and open to receive their messages.  I was ready to be a student again.  But, there's more to it than that.  It just seems like the way he expressed himself, so genuinely and with such conviction somehow touched upon a lost chord stuffed deep inside me; so deeply embedded I had forgotten it had even existed.  That lost chord of mine is tied to understanding where I belong and why.

We are seekers at heart, knowing that when a sense of inertia weighs us down and tugs at our awareness, it is time to recognize the growing discomfort.  Father O'Donohue wrote........ "Our bodies know they belong; it is our minds that make our lives so homeless."  For a while, my mind felt homeless again.  This morning, it feels like it is settling amongst the essential elements of life again.  It began to happen while reading the last of the correspondance between Globe and Mail journalist Ian Brown and Jean Vanier.   It seems serendiptously written, for it has touched me exactly where I needed to be touched.  It has settled my rumblings to some extent.  They wrote about life and death...the student and the mentor as friends. When I reach this paragraph, I could feel the ground beneath my feet again.

"We are not pure or impure spirits, floating on clouds of acclaim. We are flesh, grounded and rooted in the earth. We need sleep and rest, work, good food with friends and lots of pleasure. We need disappointments, because they foster hope and renewal. Of course we muse over death.

It is not an accident that we die. We enter the world in the fragility of a baby and later decline into the fragility of the old person we will become. Fragility means needing to cry out, “I need your help, I need your love, I need you.” Fragility forms bonds of togetherness, community, friendship and peace."

Fragility..... this is how I've felt.  The questions and inner rumblings I have struggled with left me with a sense of fragility.  But instead of being afraid of that feeling, I realized through Vanier's faith driven response to Ian Brown's questions about death, that perhaps I should look at it through a different lens..... If I am feeling this way, and taking the necessary step to admit it, express it, own it, then I become more open to the blessings of love and friendship all around me.  I become a fragile vessel.  Maybe that's what we learn the most when we are grieving the loss of a loved one.  Maybe thats what we learn the most when we are struggling with our own fears of mortality? 

After reading the article,  I sat with a stillness I havent felt in a long time.  Then,  I picked up John O'Donohue's Eternal Echoes again and felt a sense that I was visiting a friend face to face.  It felt like a homecoming.   It felt like I was returning to a mindset of belonging again. 
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Here's is a link to a Youtube video of John O'Donohue.  Enjoy....!!!