what is right? how do i get there?

(sunset from my front yard, may 2009, kodak instamatic 124)

I was told..
"We did the right thing."

contemplate, concentrate
choices abound, answers unfound
making a decison,
a sleepless indecision
why can't i settle down?

formulate, celebrate
say a vow, take a bow
formulation, transformation
move along with change......
tick, tock, tick, tock.......tell me how

certainty aligned?
uncertainty is blind...

you did the right thing....you really did.
yes...I did, didn't I?

rationalize, harmonize
last resort, no retort
ease the pain, swallow shame
wasted time, bitter crime
anger rising, temper short

tears expressed, such a mess
I did the right thing.....I think.
I did, didn't I?

Uncertainty causes stressssssssssss
uncertainty is life undressed

hesitation, protestation
saving grace, saving face
sad relief, fainting grief
lessen stress, its anyone's guess
when we finally find resolution.

back off, I need the space....
a whiskey soaked pace
'cause i ain't there yet.

WE DID THE RIGHT THING?
WHY DOES IT FEEL SO WRONG?

lonely fears, silent jeers
finger pointing....you're disappointing.....
deny, deny, deny
i'm trying to stay afloat here!

THESE are the best of times?
they're the only times i've ever known....

happiness, happiness,

it's the greatest feeling i want to possess....
repress, digress, eat less, wild guess, obsess, don a dress
humour seems pointless
or not....

intellectualize, harmonize
think before you leap
displace it all
suppress the fall
coping skills dont sleep.

Adaptation...
just another word for grieving....
one tearslippery rung at a time....
Why is it that most choices we make in life either don't feel to good, or don't live up to our expectations?
Why is it that some choices refresh old wounds?
Why is it that some choices hurt the ones we love even more?
Why does it takes so damn long to emotionally catch up with the brain driven decision???

Adaptation...learning how to cross thresholds into blue yonders takes practise I guess. Making some of life's decisions takes guts to recognize just exactly what need you are intending to fulfill....to know what you WANT...and then to know when to jump off the regret train, and move on.

you're doing the right thing
doing the right thing
the right thing
right thing
thing.....?

ahem....now what was that thing i did so right? Looks like I repressed it so deeply I can't even remember what it was all about.

ps.....this post was spurred on by this article...longitudinal research on how a healthy adaptation process, using effective (as opposed to neurotic, which we all know well....) coping mechanisms and problem solving skills can lead one to an emotional resolution, consequently will lead the way to a feeling of happiness. Or not.... The conclusion is yours to make.

disconnected

twilight trembles

in the ancient echos of misplaced souls
and turns inward
absorbing the fading colour of others
leaving disconnected murmers

of unfulfilled desire
filling the emptiness of my heart.

inside the ancestral din
i hear your voice
pulling me back from the lonely edge of darkness
into a pinebow creche
nestled in the tall grass
layered in the down of soft comfort

cradled in your arms,
i feel your lips softly brush my nape
your warm breath reminding me of my existence,
reassuring me i'm not one of the lost souls.


it is only then my sigh settles into the twilight
connected to the warmth of your kindness.



The prompt this week at Sunday Scribblings is "disconnected." For more interpretations, check out their blog.

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....

shameful entitlement....

Ana left her home in the Philipines not because she wanted to, but out of desperation. Her husband was hurt in an accident on the worksite. There was no money and no option. She had to find work to keep her family afloat and the only way to do that was to move to a country far away and far different than the climes of her home....Canada....to look for work as a live in caregiver. She knew many others from her village who had made the trek and were working full time for families with room and board covered on top of a salary. They left with the same goal....to save all their money to send home to their destitute families, with the dream of eventually move them to the land of milk and honey.

With very little in personal possessions and a pocketful of hope and enough money to pay for a plane ticket and a few days accomodation when she landed, Ana hugged her 5 children, her husband and boarded a plane. She had no idea what she was getting herself into. She had no idea when she would see her children again. Left in the care of her own mother, including a toddler she had just weaned from her breast, Ana held onto her faith with all her might, and tried not to look back.

As soon as she arrived on foreign soil covered in ice and snow she had never seen before, she was quickly embraced by other Philipino women who took her under their wing and arranged for her to be registered with a government agency. Soon, she was hired to look after an elderly woman who had just been released from the hospital after death defying surgery. She was frail and weak after years of alcohol addiction, and had lost much of her desire to live. Dementia was setting in as well. Unable to attend to her own personal care, Ana was the sole person responsible for this woman's well being. Unbeknownst to her, Ana soon learned that this woman's husband also needed attention as his health too was deteriorating from Alzheimer's and recent hip replacement surgery which didn't heal properly.

The woman who hired Ana and oversaw her hours of employment and paycheck was the daughter of these two needy people. She took her own responsibility seriously, so much so that she chose to hold her power over Ana at every waking moment. Knowing that Ana had to live and work in Canada as a caregiver for three years before she would qualify for any type of immingrant status, this boss woman took advantage of the fear instilled in Ana. Condescension and powermongering were the chosen tactics. Passive aggressive threats were common. Ana was coerced to believe that she should be grateful completely to her new employer, even though she was never given a day off for months until some intervention from other family members took place. And even then, she paid for their voiced concerns when they were too far away to protect her.

Every two weeks Ana sent home the majority of her paycheck. And every two weeks, she was allowed to leave the house for 1/2 a day reprieve. After a year of this treatment, one of the other family members, who wasn't legally and rightfully supposed to be involved in the day to day goings on in his own parent's home, demanded that Ana receive enough time off to return to the Philipines to see her family. This "intervention" was held over Ana's head and held as a deep anger grudge by the woman in charge.

What kept Ana going was the knowledge that she was appreciated and loved by the other family members who had no legal recourse to help her, but were always just a phone call away. What kept her going was her family in the Philipines whom she loved dearly and who needed her to make the money to allow them to live and eat and survive. What kept her going was the prospect of a better life one day in the near future.

Over the course of two years, Ana, who was hired to look after one aging and needy person, cared for two demanding dependent people with many needs and accumulating health issues. On top of that, she cleaned and cooked. She shopped on her days off, ran errands too without the luxury of a vehicle to use and dealt with anything in the home that needed attention or repairs. Near the end of her tenure, their health issues became more and more grave. Visits and repreives were offered whenever the other family members of this elderly couple could fly to her assistance, but in between those times, she was on her own. It was stressful, debilitating, and inhumane what she had to endure. And there wasn't a damn thing anyone could do about it to change things because the person in charge was the person in charge who was the power of attorney. The continuous threats were harsh and unbelievably unforgivable.

There is much more to this story, but I can't find the words yet to finish it. It was one of the worst experiences I have been connected to and it haunts me to this day. One day, I will write out all the sordid and sorrowful details of how badly this woman was treated, but not yet. Today, beautiful Ana comes to mind very vividly, two years after my in laws passed away because of the recent story in the news about Ruby Dhalla, Member of Parliament from Ontario who is still in the process of trying to clear her name and reputation after two very brave and very scared women from the Philipines came forward to describe how they were treated by Dhalla and her family while they were employed by them to care for an aging parent. Like Ana, they were threatened and expected to work like slaves.

I am sickened by this story because it hits too close to home and has dredged up raw pictures in my recent memory of a time when I was powerless to do anything about it. I know how difficult it would've been for these two caregivers to come forward knowing full well that it might be the end of their dreams of remaining in Canada and bringing their poverty stricken families to live here. I know full well how the "system" works and how quickly they could be sent straight home, left off in the margins by the people who should be working for the government to make sure they are treated with equality and dignity and respect. I know how many threats they have endured already, as the shining star beautiful Liberal MP scrambles to save her ass from political annihilation.

I wholeheartedly believe the women and what they described.....I wholeheartedly believe that they were forced to do work they weren't hired to do, they were forced to listen to a Ruby Princess who grew up fed on sugared slices of entitlement talk down to them, yell at them, and demand they hand over their passport. I bet there were threats to call the Immigration office, and to ruin their reputations with the government agency who originally referred them. This, I'm afraid is commonplace in the world of Philipino caregivers. For them to come forward and testify at an inquiry created overnight by a hungry government willing to take advantage of a faux pas of the opposition is one of the bravest actions I've heard of in a very long time.

Ruby Dhalla? Bollywood is calling you again. I'm sure they will have a part for you as Princess Entitlement. Your time as an elected official is up. And your dream of becoming leader of the Liberal party has evaporated. Oh, and if you need an assistant or someone to play the role of lady in waiting in your next film? I've got just the right person for you. She too thrives on the flavour of entitlement. The two of you are meant for one another.

As for Ana's old boss? She forfeited her family and she will never be invited into my house again. Ever.

You know what makes me hold my head in shame as I shake it back and forth? These people have no inkling...NO INKLING that they have done anything wrong. In fact, they consider themselves victims. It makes me want to vomit.

human fingerprints

Unshared thoughts are like lost embers floating up from the chimney flue when they're not anchored to spoken language. If we consider the words we choose and the feelings we use to express them, we quickly learn that language has the capacity to capture a fraction of what we mean. As much as it adds lustre to a perambulation of the unspoken idea finally freed, language is also held within a mystery. We can't ever cover all that we want to communicate. And, more often than not, when we do? It's misinterpreted.

Why do some people think you can read their minds? Why do some people think they can read your mind? Or even more annoying, why do they think they have the right to even attempt it?

I may seem like an open book in this venue, but I'm not as open as I appear. Like you, there are many more facets of me than you will never know.... heck, there are some of mine I havent even met yet. Truth be told there are only a couple of people on this planet who I may be emotionally comfortable enough to completely strip down to place inside me where I am that vulnerable. That type of "safe" is a very complicated place to reach.

We have a tendancy to try to sum someone up with a few descriptive sentences don't we? And for most people, that's just about enough for them. They don't want to go any deeper than that. Most descriptions are really only a reflection of themselves....of what they value, of what they like and dont like. They are judgement statements decorated with adjectives, whose definitions have a beginning and an end. In fact, I believe that most of these statements float in the cosmos of an illusion created by perceptions rather than in any essence of clarity.

Ask someone to describe you. What words would they choose??

I'm guessing if I asked 5 different people in my life how they would describe me, there would most likely be common threads....some of which may be correct. Some may be completely off the charts simply because of the situation or the events surrounding our encounters.

Believe it or not, there are some out there who think I'm simply a moody complicated opionionated blowhard! Can you believe that??? There are some who think I'm a bleeding heart pushover whose lead by her spilling out emotions. Can you believe that??? Then, there are some who would put money on their belief that I'm just a dramatic wingnut who can't get her life in order. Can you believe that???? Ok, here's one...... a threat. I'm a threatening overbearing shit disturber. Now, that's very difficult to swallow isn't it? :) Wait a minute! I think there may be one or two who see a few angelic tendancies in me, but how can that be? Then, there are some who think I'm nice. hmmmm..........very Canadian, I am.

Do I care? Of course I care. But, there's probably not a damn thing I can do about it.....people form their opinions on impressions they make in a slice of an instant. weird. Interpretations are simply that.....owned by the one who formed them.

We are all multi-layered. I may seem to be an open book, but there are several chapters I have yet to reveal. There are several chapters I have yet to discover. I may have all of the above characteristics, but slice me another way and you'll see I am more like you than you may be willing to admit..... or I may be willing to admit.

Humans have much in common.....we all have the same goods inside us, but we are far from cookie cutter replicas or one another. Our sameness.....the capacity to feel the same feelings, to yearn for the same dreams etc is what allows us to connect. Our differences is where we either clash or appreciate each other's unique gifts. My fingerprints are etched with my own design as are yours. And the only way I have to clarify who I am is through my language.......

oh, wait a minute..........

I could show you who I am too. Action without words? Now that's a thought. Sitting together in a comfortable stream of silence? Maybe that's the ideal place to delve deeper into the understanding of our unique human fingerprints. Maybe we rely too heavily on choosing the right words, on trying to find a common language........on trying NOT to be perceived the wrong way.........on trying to project an impression we may think is suitable, acceptable, welcoming....or even trying to be outrageously memorable?

Sitting together in silence strips away pretence and somehow levels any sort of power imbalance. Though it offers up enormous room for interpretations and second guessing as to what the other is thinking etc, eventually if both people are authentically genuine and honest in their physical expressions ...... comfort will be felt in the softening of the holy space between.

As John O'Donahue so eloquently captured in his writing, an unspoken essence between two friends is also present, no matter what the distance is. He referred to it as the holiness of Spirit. It makes me wonder if this Spirit's language can express our truth far better than we humans ever can?

My second posting on Carmi's thematic photography theme...."human." Check out more at Written Inc.

human hearts

We humans continue to grapple at understanding the world around us by trying to fit it into an ideology. We have such a propensity to know how to conceptualize, compartmentalize and intellectualize reality....to create a subtance solid enough to hold onto. Life isn't like that. Its meaning stretches beyond what we can fathom with our ticking brains. As soon as you think you've got it all figured out, it changes shape. It turns a different colour. It runs far enough away that its beyond our grasp, leaving us staggering in doubt.

Life rarely makes sense when we only use our minds to decipher it. However, if we let our hearts lead the exploration, we are much more apt to feel confident in exploring the wildness of being human.

This week's photography theme is "human." For more photos and interpretations of the theme, check out Carmi at Written Inc.

intentions...

Great Aunt Vera was an eccentric creative being who molded clay into unique forms and coloured canvases with striking shapes influenced by post expressionism. Her living space was a mixture of studio chaos and modernity in fire glazed earth tones and blues. She herself seemed like a combination of whismy and serious intent. Her art was her passion. Her passion fed her lifestyle. As a child, I was intrigued by this woman who was so different than anyone else in my young life. I wanted to be just like her. I wanted to be a potter.

Aunt Vera fueled my dream just by being. I can't ever remember telling her directly that it was my intention to follow in her path, to use my hands to create the designs formulating in my own imagination. I'm sure I talked incessantly about it with my Mom and I most likely talked about my desires with my Grandma, both creative thinkers themselves. When anyone asked me what I wanted to do when I grew up, my answer was always........."I want to be a potter."

The pictures in my head were clear. I saw myself living that dream, smack dab in the middle of my own studio turning a chunk of clay into my own masterpiece. Even the idea of having my clothes smeared in dried remnants, and my fingernails chipped and permanently greyed by my craft seemed romantically blissful.

If I closed my eyes, I could see the wheel spinning, my hands and fingers maneovering and squeezing the soft substance into a shape as I sprinkled drops of water to moisten the earth....to bring it alive as I sculpted. I could imagine mixing the colours.....my own signature blends to capture the piece in a glazed essence. I could feel the orange heat of the kiln and how it blasts out energy when the door is opened to slide the work in progress into its magic..... once just a seeded thought in my imagination into a finished product someone may covet as their own. Fired just at the right temperature, for just the right amount of time.

So, it was with great enthusiasm that I signed up for a pottery class in high school, feeling like it was the first step to a great career. I learned the basics....coils, slabs, free molding. I learned about making sure the clay was free of air bubbles while using your own handheld heat to warm it into a suppleness of potential. I had my turn using the wheel, pumping its speed with my foot on the pedal, learning quickly what happens when too much water is adding to the mix. I learned how to use my thumb to smear creases, and to pinch designs.....to round off the opening of vessels. I learned about shape and size and colour and balance....what is pleasing to the eye and what doesn't.

And I learned quickly how much I sucked at it. Every single project looked the same....a mess. Not a damn thing I tried to make ever looked like it did in my imagination! My career as a famous potter crashed and burned before I ever reached the kiln!

Best intentions, seemingly reachable dreams sometimes don't make it to the final end product. In fact, it can feel like you're the victim of a hard slap to the face. There often comes a point when one has to accept this unfortunate reality and learn how to let go and move on. However, it's so easy to hold onto something, even to cling to it blindly because we wont allow ourselves to recognize its not a good fit. Its not working for us.....that we failed. If we choose to continue moving forward with the same intent....the same picture in our heads of what we want, we end up tripping over and over again like someone has tied our converse shoelaces together without our noticing. It becomes a burden, a cross to carry.

Unrequited intentions, the more serious and complicated ones in our lives, (ones that are WAY more serious than my short lived career as a famous potter) can quickly turn into a cross eyed monster feeding on the endless self talk messages of failure. Before we know it, we've wasted so much time wallowing and obsessing that we lose our way back to the path of discovery. And when that happens, we lose our confidence.....we lose ourselves in the crash and burn of self injurious thought and action. We feel ugly and useless.

So, how do we stop this echoing madness ............ how do we unhook from intent gone awry?

Step back .... reflect ..... let go .... forgive ..... atone ...... smile ...... breathe ..... adjust ....... push away old limitations ..... unlatch from guilt and failure .... share your story so it has words and legs to walk away on its own ... seek out someone to help guide you to a place of reflection .... take what you can from the experience and use what you've learned .... and constantly refresh yourself by returning to the place where possibilities dwell.....where new intentions are forming into doable dreams.

Where is that dwelling? It's in the centre of your heart where God is hiding. You'll find Him working on a piece of clay. He's got the knack for creating.

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?

memorable trips...

I wrote this post originally as an email letter one evening not so long ago. My intention was to simply send a link to an article I had just read, but what came out was a story wrapped in many memories of my Grandmother, Mabel. In return, I received the story encapsulated in a piece of word art designed my emerald friend, Pip. SO COOL to see many of the key words pulled together! It caught me by smiling surprise. I decided to post the story with a few tweaks and a few updates along with the Pipdesign tonight as I take time to remember Mabel. This week is the 6th anniversary of her death. Everyday she continues to travel with me.

Good evening friends....hope it is warm and toasty where you are as it is here in my little writing den. I have some my music on.....and am tucked under a dark purple duvet ...my reading lamp is the only light on.....it feels like a little cave with books and pictures and photos..... outside the weather is drizzly fog. Indoors, I'm surrounded by stillness.....comfort.....in my den which I named after my Grandmother, Mabel Darby. This is the "Darby" room. We had it built after we received some money from her that she had inherited. She shared this late life wealth with all of us, making sure every grandchild and great grandchild would benefit. So, when I'm in here, I think of her and wish, she was still alive to share this part of my journey with me.

I know, I know... she IS...but I'd sure like to talk with her about it all. There is a framed picture up on the bookshelf of just Mabel and I on my wedding day. Its in a frame she made at a woodworking class she took in her 70's.

There's another one on that shelf too...of my Dad, Jamie, his Dad, George and his brother...on a summer day at my parent's cottage before George's Alzeimers kicked in. I think it was the summer my little sister was married and we were all home to celebrate.

There's another of my two nephews who are young adults now standing in a hay field behind the old house Jamie's mother grew up in Spencer's Island, Nova Scotia with my beautiful Max when he was only 3. It was the first time they had met!!! My nephews live out west and we rarely see them...the three of them, despite the age difference took to one another....the big boys never leaving Max out of whatever beachcombing adventure they set out to enjoy. It's a bittersweet photo now, because it looks like we have lost our access to that old house and the property.....but that's another story I will write when the estate is finally settled. Lets hope thats soon. It may be. But, the result of the estate settling is just going to be sad.....

Maybe i should keep in mind the lesson of the woodcutter..."Whether it's a blessing or a curse, I do not know....."

There are lots of photos in my Darby room. Ancestral, generations of tugging and huggin belonging. Our roots. My roots. My little family's roots. I love writing in here.... :)

Over on my desk, there is a hilarious photo I took of Martha and Max acting up together Hmmm how old were they there?? 5 and 9 years old maybe? That one silly shot strums a whole story song which jumps right out of the frame!

We were on our way from Fredericton to Burlington, Ontario (a 14 hour drive when the weather is good....) to celebrate Mabel's 90th birthday. She was born on the same day the Titanic sunk...April 14th, 1912.... So it was April 2002. The van we owned at that time had been a lemon from the moment we drove the damn thing off the car lot. One thing after another had gone wrong with it, like it was possessed by demons. It was so bad that financially we were being hit like we had two car payments a month. But you know what happens with a car like that? You think.....ah.....just get this one thing fixed and then everything will be alright...NOT!!!

So, there we were, car tuned up, everything checked over before we hit the road. Our plan was to make the trip in one full swoop...no overnight stop. With all the amenities in the car to do just that, and then some........we piled into the van along with our trusty chocolate Lab, Lucy. 14 hours of being in the driving ZONE!

6 hours into it, we pull off the highway just outside of Quebec City for lunch and the van goes.....kachunk, kachunk..... oh no!! It was the kind of KaCHUNK that is never good news. The mechanic who couldn't speak any English, motioned to us that it was what we feared...transmission problems. He suggested we take it to the transmission place located on the highway a couple of miles back.... kachunk, kachunk off we go to Mr. Transmission in the land of french speaking Canada....no anglais...!!

As Jamie went in to the greasy little office that smelled to the heavens of transmission fuel and gasoline and oil slicks....I sat on the curb in the parking lot and lost my composure completely. I knew it was going to be expensive and I didn't know what was going to happen.... whether we would be able to continue on or not. However, I knew my grandmother was aging and beginning to weaken so being at her birthday party was very important to me. But, it was a Friday afternoon in Quebec City and we had another 8 hours to travel without a vehicle...the party was on the Sunday.

Tears came in frustration and anger over this damn van. My brain wasn't working well. It was tired and I lost it. My two children right then and there took it upon themselves to make me laugh. They jumped out of the van, pulled the "head hole" of their t-shirts up to frame their heads, which made their arms and shoulders hunch up. They looked like little goofballs. Then they sang me a song or some such thing. What was the funniest was to see how they cracked each other up! I laugh now remembering how beautiful it felt to experience their ability to be in charge of dishing out the empathy.

My tears dried up, replaced by recognizing the absurdity of the situaton. My kids had made me realize how silly life can be....how one has to lighten up and just go with the punches. I took the photo which sits framed in the Darby room right then because i knew that whenever i looked at that photo in the future i would promptly remember this lesson. Tonight, I remember this lesson. Go with the punches....go with the flow.

The van ended up having to stay there...they didn't have the right transmission. We somehow managed to find a rental...a much smaller car to continue on with the trip. Two kids and a fat chocolate Lab shared the back seat. After a few hours sitting and absorbing the reality we were back on the road but ended up stopping on the way overnight. The day had been way too long to push through the night. So, we arrived at my parent's place on the Saturday, still wired and frustrated over our consistently pain in the arse van problems and aching over the amount of money it was going to cost us in the longrun.

The trip ended up costing us close to $3000.00 dollars when it should've been GAS money and some eats! But i wouldnt have missed Mabel's birthday party for the world. I got to give the toast to the Birthday gal......surrounded by family of all ages.

Wow! You know, I was just going to write to you about this link to this AMAZINGLY achingly beautiful correspondance between journalist Ian Brown and Jean Vanier....I got going...my fingers tripping over the keys so quickly that I couldn't stop myself! Vanier's response to Brown's questions about aging and dying are so eloquent....so touching. It truly hit a good place in me.

I know you will like this article about accepting our own mortality. I wonder who will come to mind for you as you read it? For me it was Mabel Darby, my grandmother who died just after her 91rst birthday. She is the person in my life who in her own dying helped me be less afraid of it. I don't know how that happened. I just know it shifted me enough not to be so full of anxiety over my own death. You know what else? It was Mabel who in her ability to embrace the adventure helped me learn how to go for the gusto.

What I'm thinking now??? If Mabel were alive today? There is no way on God's green earth that i would be considering a trip to Greenbelt without her! Never wanting to miss a good good thing, especially if it involved travel and meeting like minds, she'd be demanding that i take her along.

Of all the people in the whole world and beyond, she is the one I think I take after the most in many ways. I was given the honour to stand up at her funeral to toast her, and I spoke of the road less travelled because it made a difference for her as she lived her life and it certainly makes a difference as I live mine.

Enjoy this correspondance between Brown and Vanier as i did and spend a little time with the person who comes to mind for you.

colour of light....

Yellow.

Its soft light reflection rests in the glowing comfort of solitude when night has pulled the shade down on the day. Warm, inviting......yellow light expresses a sense of safe cocooning as it provides a gift of sight.


This week's photography theme is yellow..... For more enlightening photos, check out Carmi's blog, Written Inc.

day two.

Familiarity gets a bad rap because it always seems to be linked to the idea that it breeds contempt. I agree that if one nestles into the comfort of all that is familiar, the air gets stale .... life becomes banal. Too common .... too routine and life begins to feel threadbare worn. However if one is going through many changes and they trip up against one another, a sprinkling of familiarity helps maintain the confidence to gingerly take the necessary steps through the transition process. Of course, it has to be the good pace of familiar and not the bad tasting remnants of the past. And when its good, it feels like slipping back into a canoe knowing how to find my balance........while I take the first few strokes.

Humans have a tendancy of holding onto what they know even if it is toxic rather than letting go and moving on. We lose our nerve to take a risk on something new, fresh and perhaps unknown even when we are pushed off the cliff without our approval. Change shakes and shatters. It has the capability of rocking our foundations like an earthquake can split the ground open.

Change is the humanquake.......leaving us feeling splintered and split until we can regroup, reflect and respect the fact that life spins forward on an axis we often have no control over. Familiar traditions, the stories, their history, and the multitude of experiences we have had to live through all act as a way of grounding in order to cope with the changes. Transitions, the internal process leading to transformation, are helped along if there are familiar threads which reassure the person of their own wholeness.

I guess it comes down to how we utilize familiarity that matters. If we allow ourselves to be pulled into the timeworn comfort of it ... fearful of change, fearful of taking a risk, we will remain stuck and asleep as life passes by. To me, this seems comparable to choosing death instead of living. Boredom is a tranquilizer. On the other hand, we can summon our resources and resiliency when faced with change. If we see the possiblities that transitions are spiritually and emotionally transformative and can lead to tremendous growth, we can expand our learning experience by bringing along our own basket of familiar gifts and knowledge.

Today, I found myself pondering this as I realized I was in a new work setting and on a new team with no clear picture yet of where I will fit in ..... but was clearly not in a completely foreign territory. The type of work is an extension of what I have done in the past, though in a different milieu. Many of the faces are people I have worked with in the past though in different scenarios. Both helped.... a lot. The "newness" of the situation coupled with the jolt of being thrown into the change are buffered by the positive reinforcement of familiarity. Whether I feel a sense of transformative growth in this environment is still unknown. But, what I do feel will happen is that I will eventually find my place of belonging as I learn the ropes.

And if all else fails? If familiarity begins to choke in contempt or if the changes just don't turn my crank and the awareness gleaned through the transition isn't what it appears to be? Then I can get back in that well travelled canoe and paddle on. There are always new inlets to discover.

solid ground....

We tend to see depression as the enemy assaulting us by trying to crush our spirit. Is it the enemy or it is rather a friend whose strength is trying to push us down onto the ground where we are safe to learn to stand again? There is no more safer place to be than on the ground, laying low forced to recognize the bare truths of our own nature.

Our nature with nature, felt again on solid ground.

We are programmed, however to see depression as evil and demonic....an enemy living in a place where our own minds turn against us, rather than as an honest friend guiding us to a place where we can learn to heal. We come from the ground, can we not go there to find our way again?

Our churning thoughts fight depression through intellectual struggles, theories, reasoning..... trying to unlock the key to the mystery behind our perceived falsehoods....what we believe others see in ourselves. The battle of who I am versus who I ought to be. Could it be that we are so busy battling the enemy we can't hear the voice of our own life speaking? How can you hear "I love you" when the intellectual battle is raging in deafening silence?

Our egos slash away outwardly at depression through denial, anger, entitlement that it can't happen to us....but mostly its a protection from the fear of someone recognizing our incompetencies, our lies. The winning ego believes it has to keep up the persona rather than plunge into the frightening darkness of the unknown even if there is a slight chance that peace could dwell there. We focus on our limits rather than recognize and acknowledge our gifts..... the gifts we were born with....the gifts which harbour our authentic voice.

Depression as a friend? It can be the ultimate in disconnection, but it doesn't have to be. Could we not allow this friend to help scrape away the plaster molding of the masks to reveal what Thomas Merton refers to as our "true self?" If the ego self inflates, and the intellectual self tries to clobber depression with theories, and the ethical self berates it unforgivingly....how can we ever scale it down to what is real?? True Self...bare naked, vulnerable, beautiful, imperfect, real and wrinkled!!! No falsehoods there..... I wonder if depression sometimes is the hand of our true self, pushing us down to the ground where it is safe to learn to stand again....to a place that smells, looks, feels, tastes and sounds real. Earth.


Paul Tillich described God as the ground of being. I like that description and it makes me think......maybe depression offers us an introduction to God? Maybe He's down on his knees sowing seeds into the ground and would like some company? Maybe if we meet him on our knees He will help us learn to grow inward and downward as a means of living rather than outward and upward?

And maybe, just maybe Heaven is found in the hallowed ground beneath our feet.

gracie update....

If I had a degree in canine psychology, I would be able to correctly diagnose the psychopathic ruminants my puppy suffers from. Unfortunately, I only have the background in homo sapien brainwave behaviour to go by, so I don't know exactly what makes Gracie tick....or is it tock? What I do know, and my gut has informed me of this since the first week she moved in and took over is that we are dealing with one crazed whacked out yellow lab. This house hasn't been the same. This house is a wreck. And the people in this house? Sleep deprived and shoeless. It's a good thing warmer weather is on the horizon.....and it's a good thing that even though it's still chilly out I can wear sandals because my middle aged thermometer allows me to.......because I HAVE NO WINTER SHOES LEFT! (she has just found my crocs........AGAIN.....as I write this and is have a tumbling wrestle with the damn things!!)

Every single piece of furniture has chew marks in it....every rug has a few strands missing. There are smudgy nose prints on the window where she has tried to bash through it to go after a squirrel or a bird or heaven forbid another dog being walked nicely down our street. Glass means nothing to her. If you leave anything of importance on a side table.....forget about it. If you leave the bathroom door open, you might as well say good bye to the toilet paper.....it's strewn all through the dining room. Nothing is sacred. I even have chew holes in my favourite bra.....right some sexy, let me tell you.

She inhales everything, including her dogfood. Like a Hoover, she wolfs down her breakfast in one gallop and then proceeds to pass the most disgustingly rancid GAS! She is the living breathing belching farting dog from hell. And if you decide you want to sleep in a little bit, forget about it! She'll find you..........and take a flying leap up onto the bed with no thought of where she will land. She doesn't give a shit. The head, the legs, the butt......wherever she lands is fine with her. There are absolutely no boudaries with this pup. She's in your face, in your space taking over it ALL.


Gracie is a hoarder and a strong one at that. She also likes to rearrange stuff. She will somehow sneak downstairs or into a bedroom and proceed to collect one item at a time and pull it into the living room. Most of the time, she doesn't ruin it.....she just wants it in the living room, OR even more fun....she just wants you to chase her around the house to get it from her. This morning alone (and it's only 7:30 AM!!!) I have retrieved....

one wine bottle
one pair of Vans
one RAZOR
the bathmat
the bathtub plug (ok, now the bathroom door is closed!)
a pencil case
the Life section of Saturday's Globe and Mail
two plastic bags, shredded
a lighter
two pairs of undies


You'd think that I live in a messy state around here with all of those items within doggie reach. But, I don't! She seeks and retrieves.


I have unravelled her dog lead twice from my weigela bush after she began HOWLING outside at 6:30 am.


I have cleaned her paws after she dug another fresh hole in my garden


And I have rescued a disgustingly muddy chew bone she somehow managed to sneak back into the house and bury under the seat cushion of the leather wing back chair.


Right now? She's trying to wrestle with our older dog Lily who had quietly snuck down to my bedroom when I got up this morning and tucked herself onto the duvet at the bottom of the bed. My husband is still "sleeping..." in that same bed. I wish him a hearty good luck!


We have tried.....we have tried.......


Last Sunday, friends dropped in to surprise me with a pot of pansies. They are dog people and have their own Black lab named Norm. So, they are comfortable around canine capers. Norm, btw, is afraid of her.....and for good reason!!!!!! She has beaten the crap out of Norm even as a little puppy!!! My friend have even included Gracie in their invitations to their home too....have in fact had her at their house during a few potluck gatherings.........we all took turns on Gracie alert around the food. Sometimes we were lucky...sometimes we lost portions of the meal.


Anyways.....we're sitting in the living room catching up on stuff, and Gracie the attention seeking whacko jumps up beside our friend Jim, somehow gets behind him on the couch and proceeds to try to wrestle him with her paws around his neck and her big goofy head peering over. As hard as Jim tried, he couldn't get Gracie to obey..... she thought it was fun. In fact the harder you try to be the "ALPHA" the more turned on she gets.


She knows NO boundaries. This dog is all emotion....all impulsive, expressive emotion. She hyper-alert too.....to a point where she is a huge danger to herself and others...... (tries to attack the windshield wipers in the van, tries to jump out at cars passing by while forcefully sitting in the front seat ..... ). We are a travelling family. This dog can't handle even a trip to the store.


I'm tired....we've tried....we're all tired.


She's not too swift either.....just the other day, when Jamie had the dogs out for a run, Gracie went full force head first into a large boulder right in front of her. She bounced off it and kept going. Not swift or agile. Honest to God, this dog bumps into everything. She couldn't catch a ball in her mouth if her life depended on it. However, if she gets it in her brainstem she wants to jump into the swollen river with big hunks of ice in it thats flowing faster than you could catch a piece of flotsam floating by.....if she wants to bolt off her leash (we've been through 6 of them) to run up to the highway, if she wants to roll in something completely disgusting and then tear back into the house to smear it all over your couch........this puppy is ADHD WHACKED!



So, after great big sighs and many many conversations between ourselves, with our friends, and even with the folks at Bark Busters (who you gonna call???) after many stops and starts......after attempts to channel the "Dog Whisperer" we finally surrendered to the fact that she can't stay with us. We have tried. She is nuts. She needs more attention than we can give her.


Yesterday, I drove over to the SPCA to talk to them. We thought it may be the avenue to go....they would know someone who lives on a large piece of property, who is home all day....who could perform a few miracles on her. They were mean and unhelpful.....judgemental too. They don't take any dogs except strays, tried to lecture me on the personality of a Labrador Retriever (ahem....I have lived through two Lab puppies thank you very much). I ended up returning to my van so pissed off at these holier than thou eeejits and determined to never donate a single dog bone their way again. I just wanted their help for God's sake.


I came home and quickly took some photos....which of course wasn't a quick exercise. Gracie doesn't sit still unless she's asleep splayed on her back with her legs wide open and that's not pretty. Finally got some decent pics and posted an ad on a local online site........... FREEEEEEEE to Good home.... Well, within 1/2 an hour, I had an email from a guy in town who had a two year old Lab mix and was interested in getting another as a friend for his poochie. We made arrangements to meet here.... and it all looked good. He came over with his dog, who has crazed Border Colllie in her (good sign....very active.....) and after a while, he asked if he could take Gracie home with him for the night to see how she interacted there. Since we knew him kind of through mutual connections and since we were having friends over for dinner who are afraid of Gracie, we promptly said SURE!!!!


Off they went. He was the perfect person for Gracie.... I told my husband if this didn't work out, we were screwed because it meant she was far more nuts than we thought.... He agreed.


Two hours later? A phone call......... "Hi. Ummmmmm..... Gracie attacked my dog and drew blood. I don't think this is going to work..... I'm really sorry. She was great at the dog park. She was friendly with my sister and my family. She even walk on the lead and obeyed. But, she doesn't like my dog."


"OMG! " I said..... " I am so sorry. She's never done that at someone else's house. She's quite territorial around here, but I didn't think that would happen. Bring her home.... I'm so sorry!!"


She came bounding in, went straight for the dining room table, jumped up, scarfed down a big hunk of chicken, trotted into the living room, bounced up on the couch and scared the living breath out of the company. "I'm back!!!!!!"


oh goodie!!! We laughed. What else could we do?


This morning.... as I have been writing this post, 4 new emails have arrived with questions.


"Is Gracie good with other dogs?"


"Does she like children?"


"Can you give me more details about her? Is she still available?"


Where do I begin? How come no one's asked if she likes to belch and fart and roll in roadkill? How come no one wants to know if she can shred newpapers and eat glasses, and suck back a tube of toothpaste? How do I reply, as I hear her drinking from the toilet in the bathroom that I SWEAR I closed the door on?


How about............."I can't tell you how much we love her......"


We're going to miss her. But, we need our sanity to return. Wish us luck....and Gracie too.

who me?

Colourful, fresh and fruity

a fusion of unforgettable iris accords

a radiant touch

a luminous favourite

embodies the mystery of seduction

captivates your senses

exudes confidence

Bright, alluring and timeless
attracts like a sparkling floral bouquet
vibrant, current, sets your spirit free...

unpredictable and unique
an audacious blend of dazzling floral and woody notes
marries freshness, vibrancy and feminity

bare skin beauty
natural luminosity
sexy, smokey
exceptional charm
dazzling, bewitching and highly sensual
enchanting sophisticated, without being too serious
even a little whimsical

irresistably luminous lips
tempts your senses
focused on promise, chance and happiness....

Playfully twists notions of feminity

and subtley grows richer and more sensual,

revealing the velvety interior of the rose.
WHO? Me?

Unfortunately, not me. I pulled these hot momma descriptors out of a flyer promoting perfumes and beauty products. Who writes this stuff? Do they get heated up and turned on while stirring inside those passionate adjectives, blending them into a scene of romance? Are these the same folks who write soft porn?

So here's my confession.....I would love to be described using these expressively sexy and dare I say LUMINOUS words.... I was named after my mother's favourite perfume after all, so it must mean I should qualify on some level doesn't it?

Hmmmmm.......let me take a sniff.....oh, yes this bare skin beauty does "exude an audacious fragrance that blends floral and woody notes....with a tantalizing touch of bergamot and a twist of citrus essence."

I have a dazzling ass too.

What the hell is bergamot anyways? It sounds mossy.

This week's theme over at Sunday Scribblings is confession....Got one??

prosperity

The welfare office is a strange place to learn about prosperity. But, as I pushed through the myriad of emotions this week trying to keep my focus on wrapping up the many tasks I had to complete before the lights went out on this job, I became more and more cognizant of the fact that this is exactly what i've learned. I also was thinking that due to the global economic circumstances, many are looking at what prosperity really means. Hey! Perhaps this is where they need to hang out.....

We all easily get swooped up in the tide awash with the materialistic side of the equation, when in reality what matters are the simple gifts unattached to any price tag. Not that simple gifts come easy. They do if you recognize them for what they are, or if you realize you're resting beside one waiting to be smiled at. Realistically, nothing ever comes easy, not even the simple gifts. There are many adverse life lessons one has to encounter and to process before this awareness of prosperity shines a different light.....before we earn the vision of seeing the abundance of a simple gift.

I had a short conversation this week with a man from Bosnia who settled in my town a few years back with his family after having to flee his home country. I know much of his story from a mutual friend, but had never had the opportunity to meet him. Our mutual friend explained to the man that I was losing my job and moving onto another that didn't have much security etc. The Bosnian man, who was very outgoing and expressive....said..... "Never forget that life can be much worse. You are in big trouble if you accept the fact that what you are going through is the worst it could be. Believe me, it could be much worse. If I ever accept that it can't get any worse, I am defeated and I can't go anywhere from there." His words will continue to ring inside....

Last summer, my blogger friend Charles and I helped a woman who was in dire need. It was emotionally heartbreaking and satisfying to be able to offer her a bit of help and she was so grateful you just wanted to do more for her. Afterwards, when we got back in the van while I tried to pull myself together again, both of us overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, Charles said....."You know whenever i feel like I've hit bottom and things can't get any worse, I meet a person who is worse off than me. We did good here today." His words continue to ring inside......

I spoke with a man on the phone this week.....I hadn't talked to him in several years. I first met him 10 years ago when he was applying for a disability pension because of his poor health. We met in his little home in the woods and talked for a couple of hours about his struggles, and his frequent hospitalizations. What was loud and clear to me then was how settled and grateful he was to have his own home, his own sanctuary despite its bare bones feel.

6 years ago, he called me to ask if i would help him find a way to learn how to read. We decided the best approach would be through a tutor and not in a classroom. He wasn't able to commit to that kind of structure because of his health. So, it was arranged quickly on my end and that was that. I never heard how it went, or if he was successful.....until we connected again this week. He called to ask me if I would go to bat for him to try to get gas money to travel to and from his tutoring lessons. He drives 45 km one way twice a week to meet with another man who has been teaching how to read for the past 6 years. I had no idea! When I asked him how well his reading was coming along......he proudly informed me that he can read well enough to understand instructions and letters that come in the mail, and that he's able to read some of the words in the books his Dad left him...."not the big words, mind you....can't read the big words yet."

Will this man ever be financially self sufficient? Will he ever be able to read a novel? Will he ever be able to overcome his kidney ailments? As much as he yearns to get a job, he will never be able to work. If he could just have a bit of gas money....he would feel that he can continue to chip away at his goal of becoming literate. This would make him feel prosperous....

The conversation continues to ring inside.

How do we define prosperity.....? It depends on where we are sitting. It depends on what we have learned, and what we value. In these topsy turvy times when many are being forced to strip down, pare down, and heaven forbid do without.....we are pushed into situations where adversity challenges unrelentingly, offering big important lessons. This collective world in which we live....this big global community may just learn a few good lessons that have the capacity to shift how we define prosperity. I recommend a visit to the welfare office.

Prosperity means abundance. Abundance is measured by our value gauge. What is important to us, what we are willing to push through adversity to acquire. Money most definately plays a role, as does good health, but it isn't the answer to prosperity. Stuff accumulated isn't the answer to feeling prosperous. Pushing through adversity while learning through recognizing the signposts along the way is the road to prosperity.....the riches lie there. So does having people to engage and connect with. So does being affirmed, having someone express to you that you matter....feeling significant....knowing you are heard, and recognized you are a human being just like everyone else. These are the golden touches which bring forth the feeling of prosperity. We may be penniless and suffering, and yet we can all feel prosperous.

Not long ago, I had the privilege of sitting in a hospital room with a young man who was dying of Crohn's disease. I was shocked initially at how skeletal he was....how different he looked, and how unbelievably sick he was since I had first met him a few years back. His energy was very low. His lips parched and dry because he was receiving all his nutrients and food sustenance through a tube in his stomach. He was too weak to digest it any other way. He had been in the hospital for 4 months already and has suffered through 3 painful surgeries. He admitted that he didn't know if he had the strength to go through another.....

At first, I didn't know if he could physically handle my visit, but I was there to help him get some extra money by applying for a disability. So, he had saved his strength and greeted me with as much energy as he could conjure up. This man had previously studied to be a preacher, and was able to run a parish church in a rural area in Northern New Brunswick until he fell too ill to lead. But, his faith and his way of looking at the world were still very much intact, and this is where our conversation led.

He spoke of the kindness of the hospital staff......how they arranged for a private room for him even though he didn't necessarily qualify. He lit up when he talked about his best friend, who had been visiting when I arrived and praying quietly with him....how they had studied together to be preachers....how they used to go fishing together. He talked about how blessed he is to have three children whom he loves dearly and feels so upset that he probably won't be around to see them grow up to be adults. He pointed out the flowers that arrived yesterday in the middle of a snowstorm....how his grandmother always comes to visit and that she has been the constant person in his life. He lamented on how much he misses the ulimate freedom of going for a drive into the country all by yourself. And as he reflected....as this man with such poor health, and with no money reflected....he told me how rich he was in so many ways.

2 hours later, I left his hospital room far richer too than I had been when I arrived. I left with the sound of a church bell ringing inside...faith encapsulates the blessings layered in a river of prosperity.

Henri Nouwen writes about people and compares us to mosaic stones. Each one of us is represented by a tiny piece of colour, beautiful on its own, but much more revealing of the face of God when seen as a design together. Our community lives and breathes suffering and struggle. It lives and breathes love and compassion. It displays the faces of humanity, shaded by the lined scars of adversity....and a longing for connection and validation between human beings. Community, he writes, is "where humility and glory touch." And to me, that is where prosperity dwells. You see it abundantly in the welfare office. It is an integral part of our community, sometimes considered on the fringes of the busy work districts, but most definately integral in the whole of our society. We see humility and glory touching daily here.

This place and the people i've met, the colleagues I grown up with and love and have had the privilege to walk a mile or two with will continue to ring on inside me forever. On this my last day of work there, I leave a very rich woman indeed, with an overflowing market basket of simple gifts.

Priceless......