la lumiere de soleil

November's golden luminosity bathes the landscape in a fragrant breath of regal knowing. Amber light warms the stark reality caught in the branch spaces of newly naked birch. You can almost hear the sigh in the lost suppleness of youth as it stretches towards the softening glow. Shadows and reflections empower the landscape like a Vermeer masterpiece.

Autumn evenings bend early into fleeced capes draped on shoulders and wool socks on summer sandaled feet. Streetlights reflect the slowing down loneliness of empty streets, glistening in rain soaked leaves, the last to fall from the trees. There is an essence of a sombre drama found in a black and white late night movie born from days past. Aromas steeped in pipesmoke sweetness waft and blend with the bayberry candles flickering on the mantle. As the sun slips out of sight, a recognizable balladeer fills the night with baritone longing.......

The birds they sang

at the break of day

Start again

I heard them say

Don't dwell on what

has passed away

or what is yet to be.

Ah the wars they will

be fought again

The holy dove

She will be caught again

bought and sold

and bought again

the dove is never free.

Ring the bells that still can ring

Forget your perfect offering

There is a crack in everything

That's how the light gets in.

This week's thematic photography prompt is autumn.........for more photos and thoughts, check out another famous Montrealer......... Carmi

the vigil, 1914-1918

Fredericton skyline at twilight, November 4, 2008

During World War 1, Canada, a country of 8 million people, lost 68,000 soldiers in battle. If one was to project this casualty loss now it is equivalent to losing close to 300,000 soldiers in Afghanistan. Incomprehensible. Incomprehensible.

Today, one Canadian soldier from that "Great" War is alive today, and with him goes the only living thread we have to our human stories of that time in our history. Faces fade along with the multi-sensory acuity of what was a dark and sorrowful time on this planet we call home.

To commemorate the 90th anniversary of the end of World War 1, a living memorial is being projected in several cities across this country as well as at Canada House , located beside Trafalgar Square in London, England. It began at sunset in London on November 3rd , with the Queen in attendance to mark the sobering reflection. From that moment until sunrise on Remembrance Day, the names of all the soldiers will be projected onto a memorial for all the world to see. The project was created by two visionaries, Canadian actor RH Thompson and lighting expert Martin Conboy.

Light transforms our memories into present day thoughts. Memories are what makes us human. Every single human being who died has a living story. If you are living in or close to one of these cities, which includes Fredericton (at Memorial Hall at UNB), Halifax, Ottawa, Toronto, Regina, Edmonton, Calgary and /or London England, I recommend a detour from your busy day to stop for a few moments.....to connect to our past, to recognize these 68,000 men who were sons, fathers, brothers, uncles, nephews, friends, neighbours......... and if you aren't able to attend it in person, here is a link to the site and another to the government website. The names will be projected slowly and continually until next Tuesday, November 11th.

Lest we forget.

the need for rekindling.

At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us.

Albert Schweitzer

Deep conversations today with a woman whose personal mission is to rekindle lights. A sensitive emotional human being, she told me she was the one in her family who inherited the feelings while the rest somehow missed out on them. They are stoic and unable to give hugs to one another. That doesnt stop her, she explained. She gives them freely to her family members and to her friends.

This woman suffers every day in pain............emotional anxiety pain manifested physically through fibromyalgia, a chronic and unpredictable ache which may lessen on some days, but never ever goes away completely. Depression has visited her on occasion like a dark blue wave that engulfs her energy, her focus, her ability to function. It has hospitalized her. Her joints swell, her head pangs with migraines, her hands and face are covered in cracked skin and red itchy blotches of excema.........all stemming from powerfully deep psychiological wounds. We speak of all of these health issues........how they impact her life......and where they could've come from.

Most of our conversation revolves around her telling me stories of the people whom she has helped.......some of whom I know. It is actually how I met her in the first place, when she arrived with a friend of hers who needed to see me. She doesn't get paid for all the good work she does...........for all the advocacy and wordhugs she has given.........for all the encouragement, and listening she has offered. But now her light is dimmer.

It's easier to help someone find their light than dig deep to find your own. Someone who gives like she does needs recharging and validation, and it doesn't happen very often because most of the people she "goes to bat for" are just too needy.........too deflated and in crisis. They can't see to reciprocate. I tell her that bleeding hearts eventually do bleed to death if they don't care for themselves and if they don't find others who will send a spark her way every now and then. The problem is that she's dug a little niche for herself.....this is how she defines herself. This is what she does and is known for.

So, where does she go to have her light rekindled? Most of the light she receives is a reflection off of one whom she has helped. for the most part, this is enough...........environmentally friendly so to speak. But I see it. I also see how her behaviour.....her actions outward are a semi-productive way to avoid her own internal inferno. The inferno leaves her in agony and her bones very very tired.

"Yes we can"........taking a risk......

Humanity
has been sleeping
-and still sleeps-
lulled within the
narrowly confining
joys of its
closed loves
Teillard de Chardin

It's such a risk isn't it? We feel we take such a risk to unlatch the gate especially when we believe love has limits and we must share it sparingly. We keep it locked up in order to sprinkle it only on a select few rather than allowing it oxygen. Why?

Maybe we've been burned

Maybe we've been hurt

Maybe we've been wounded

Maybe we've been

ignored

abandoned

used

emotionally abused

Maybe we've been left feeling vulnerable to attacks in the past

Or, we don't believe that the love we can give is good enough

Or we have never felt it before and we don't know HOW to give it

Or we ache in our emptiness and need the love from someone else

Maybe we've been taken advantage of one too many times.

So many reasons and rationales. Our ability to share love is tied to our own history which may have left us delicately tentative. So, we confine our joys within the safety net of our closed loves. No oxygen there. No growth. No changes.

Humanity is starving for love. Healing of humanity needs it. And here we are starving to be recognized as human beings who can share it and receive it. What a conundrum! Carl Jung observed......"Where love rules, there is no will to power; and where power predominates, there love is lacking. The one is the shadow of the other." Perhaps, the key is to figure out how to lift the shadow of power off the light of love and let it emanate outward to shine on, shine on.

It seems like a simple act.......to give of our love...but unconditionally, with no expectations?? That's more difficult because once you give it, you pass on your power as well.......and if the trust isn't there......or if it's misused, you are left feeling like a powerless emptied vessel. Too risky don't you think? I don't know............it looks like a leader was elected tonight who is ready to FEED it oxygen.......and to help the world awaken to a new way of doing things. Can it be that LOVE filled with compassion, determination, respect and dignity has finally moved beyond the confines? We'll see. We'll see.

Yes we can.

AMAZING SPEECH!!!!!! It's a brand new day........

He holds the candle burning bright.....

Here is an excerpt from the speech Barack Obama gave at the 2004 Democratic convention. It brought the people to their feet.........and foisted him into the national limelight. From this electrifying speech, people began to wake up to possibility. They began to shake of their apathy and began to become interested again in the possibility of a leader taking a wounded nation forward with hope.

I will never forget Obama's speech because I too was standing and applauding this man whom I had never heard before.....it was evident to everyone who had a chance to watch him deliver it and to listen to his inspiration pour out of him. Whether you are aligned with his politics or not, Barack Obama was from this night forward recognized as a force to be reckoned with.......... May the people of the United States of America choose to take a giant step with this gifted man and elect him on November 4th as their next President of the United States. He has earned and deserves a chance to shine, shine, shine.

"Tonight is a particular honor for me because, let’s face it, my presence on this stage is pretty unlikely. My father was a foreign student, born and raised in a small village in Kenya. He grew up herding goats, went to school in a tin-roof shack. His father -- my grandfather -- was a cook, a domestic servant to the British.
But my grandfather had larger dreams for his son. Through hard work and perseverance my father got a scholarship to study in a magical place, America, that shone as a beacon of freedom and opportunity to so many who had come before.
While studying here, my father met my mother. She was born in a town on the other side of the world, in Kansas. Her father worked on oil rigs and farms through most of the Depression. The day after Pearl Harbor my grandfather signed up for duty; joined Patton’s army, marched across Europe. Back home, my grandmother raised a baby and went to work on a bomber assembly line. After the war, they studied on the G.I. Bill, bought a house through F.H.A., and later moved west all the way to Hawaii in search of opportunity.
And they, too, had big dreams for their daughter. A common dream, born of two continents.
My parents shared not only an improbable love, they shared an abiding faith in the possibilities of this nation. They would give me an African name, Barack, or ”blessed,” believing that in a tolerant America your name is no barrier to success. They imagined -- They imagined me going to the best schools in the land, even though they weren’t rich, because in a generous America you don’t have to be rich to achieve your potential.
They're both passed away now. And yet, I know that on this night they look down on me with great pride.
They stand here -- And I stand here today, grateful for the diversity of my heritage, aware that my parents’ dreams live on in my two precious daughters. I stand here knowing that my story is part of the larger American story, that I owe a debt to all of those who came before me, and that, in no other country on earth, is my story even possible.
Tonight, we gather to affirm the greatness of our Nation -- not because of the height of our skyscrapers, or the power of our military, or the size of our economy. Our pride is based on a very simple premise, summed up in a declaration made over two hundred years ago:
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.
That is the true genius of America, a faith -- a faith in simple dreams, an insistence on small miracles; that we can tuck in our children at night and know that they are fed and clothed and safe from harm; that we can say what we think, write what we think, without hearing a sudden knock on the door; that we can have an idea and start our own business without paying a bribe; that we can participate in the political process without fear of retribution, and that our votes will be counted -- at least most of the time....

This year, in this election we are called to reaffirm our values and our commitments, to hold them against a hard reality and see how we're measuring up to the legacy of our forbearers and the promise of future generations.
And fellow Americans, Democrats, Republicans, Independents, I say to you tonight: We have more work to do -- more work to do for the workers I met in Galesburg, Illinois, who are losing their union jobs at the Maytag plant that’s moving to Mexico, and now are having to compete with their own children for jobs that pay seven bucks an hour; more to do for the father that I met who was losing his job and choking back the tears, wondering how he would pay 4500 dollars a month for the drugs his son needs without the health benefits that he counted on; more to do for the young woman in East St. Louis, and thousands more like her, who has the grades, has the drive, has the will, but doesn’t have the money to go to college.
Now, don’t get me wrong. The people I meet -- in small towns and big cities, in diners and office parks -- they don’t expect government to solve all their problems. They know they have to work hard to get ahead, and they want to. Go into the collar counties around Chicago, and people will tell you they don’t want their tax money wasted, by a welfare agency or by the Pentagon. Go in -- Go into any inner city neighborhood, and folks will tell you that government alone can’t teach our kids to learn; they know that parents have to teach, that children can’t achieve unless we raise their expectations and turn off the television sets and eradicate the slander that says a black youth with a book is acting white. They know those things.
People don’t expect -- People don't expect government to solve all their problems. But they sense, deep in their bones, that with just a slight change in priorities, we can make sure that every child in America has a decent shot at life, and that the doors of opportunity remain open to all.
They know we can do better. And they want that choice."

Choice.........! Change.......!

The audacity of hope

Let his candle burn bright.

dark thinking

Obsessions can sometimes be healthy motivators, especially in the field of creative ingenuity. Given that the majority of us lemmings aren't that bright and wont be inventing the next "must have" that is going to shock and rock the world, I'd say that obsessions generally are significantly seen as irritating behaviours which hide personal wounds we want to keep hidden from ourselves and others. We become fixated on someone or something to a point where compulsion replaces normalcy. Rarely can we hold onto an obsession and an awareness of it at the same time. The projected shadow cloaks the door to insight.

Someone once said that we are our own worst enemies and that for the most part we need to get out of our own way in order to be able to see ourselves as we are and as others see us. But when it's a avoidance tactic used to keep us in the dark, we hold onto the actions which allow us to stay in our own way as long as we can. We rationalize things. For example..........an obsessive who is trying to avoid their own stuff may rationalize their behaviour by jusitifying........."I am doing this to help someone." Meanwhile, the person has made it perfectly clear that they don't want your help, don't want your attention.............want space. It's easier to "help" someone than help ourselves. We're weird that way.

Obsessions imprison their victims by manipulating the thought process into an anxious babble of behaviour that can't be silenced. We all suffer from some form of it sometime in our lives. It is a way to imprison our thoughts in order to avoid ourselves. It is a way, albeit not usually productive, of seeking a sense of empowering control we feel is lacking. It is a way we use to get in the way of ourselves.

William Glasser, guru of Choice theory and Reality therapy, believes we all have five basic needs in our lives. They are: Survival, Love and Belonging, Empowerment/Control, Freedom and Fun. According to Glasser, all of our behaviour, all of our actions are our best attempt at fulfilling one of our basic needs. Given that our thoughts and feelings feed one another and in turn impact our actions as well as our physiology and visa versa, this theory of his makes sense to me. My "survival" needs may not be as intense as someone elses.

My need to find a sense of love and belonging may take precedence in my life as opposed to YOUR need for freedom. they differ in intensity, but they are the same. What is different and what makes the needs look different is the colour and contour of the lens I am looking through. My perception is fed by personal events, learning, growth, my living situation, my personality.....anything and everything which has been poured into the concept of self. According to Glasser, if there is a sense of something lacking, I will do my best to fulfill it even with behaviour that is self harming.

So, how does one pull out of an obsession? How does one alleviate the ache produced by an unfulfilled need when the dark thinking permeates the spirit and chokes the light? How does one change the light bulb?

I dare you...........

Express a new idea, write something deliciously unique, create a piece of art never seen before, dance like no one else......arms flinging and body gyrating while spinning and spinning, formulate a thesis that daringly asks a question many believe can't be answered, challenge the status quo, stretch out the boundaries of acceptability and you've entered into the realm of the scandalous.

Step out of the norm into the wilderness of the unknown, question society's common beliefs, march into a place of worship wearing a gypsy costume..........DANCE down the aisle and sit right up at the front with the family who has ALWAYS sat in that particular pew for generations. Sing the hymn from your heart boldly, shake everyone's hands and tell them they are all BEAUTIFUL. Wish them a glorious day...... Scandalous stuff!! Why? Because this behaviour is chaotically unpredictable, unexpected and it makes discomfort wake up.

JUMP out of your routine. Wear red. Did you know that research has shown that men are more attracted to a woman who wears red? It's true! I know that when I wear my shiny red rainboots with my powersuit, businessmen in their powersuits stop, stare and smile............AT MY FEET! So, what do i do? I make them TAP, TAP...... while I exclaim...."I DO have cute feet, don't I??? These boots make them smile!" After that, I often hear them mumble something that sounds like.........."she's bonkers........yeah, scandalous really......."

I love being scandalous......not really rudely or terribly disruptive, just a bit eccentrically. I love throwing a little extra spice into the savoury stew of life........love shaking things up, just a bit.....saying something a tad outrageous in the middle of a counselling session when the timing is right or when i'm teaching a class. It perks up the interaction, spreads some humour, takes someone out of their head when they need to get out of there for a breather. CRAZY? Why the hell not?

I have been known to make a very good analogy between what it feels like to wear a bra for the first time and learning how to apply a counselling technique to a mixed group I was teaching at the University. After a while, you don't feel the bra anymore.....after a while, counselling becomes second nature. See?

The women all nodded in complete understanding.......the men?? Some of them nodded, which of course made me wonder if they were secretly wearing a push up under their hoodies........no, I didn't ask...........just thought my own scandalous thoughts....... BUT, most of the guys in the class looked shocked and a bit dumbfounded.....possibly wondering who the hell it was that would hire a kook like me to teach crisis counselling....?? Then, I changed the analogy from a bra to a athletic protective cup and jock strap.......and they began to nod. Hmmmm.....now I'm wondering if they were wondering how i knew how uncomfortable a piece of rounded plastic protecting one's jewels feels like....??hmmmmm.......

Remember that scandalous craze called streaking in the 70's? Men and women impulsively stripped down to their bare essentials and dashed through crowded rooms, jumping and bouncing and flailing their netherbits like rogues gone wild. Hilariously daringly scandalous at the time, and people loved it. Well, probably not the anal retentive Bible thumper types who succumb to the vapors when the very idea of swaying ones hips is suggested. The whole wide world is scandalous in their eyes.........I mean if Tele-tubbie Tinky Winky, you know the one with the purse, can cause such a hocus-pocus ruckus because of the PURSE, well pale nakedness flying through a cafeteria would send them into a hyperventilating tailspin!

There is a juicy streaking story in my family, which at the time was really considered crossing the line of decorum. My father in law, known to all who loved him as Buzzie, was once in the Ontario cabinet in the high profile position of Solicitor General. Though he was known to be a bit of a rabel rouser and he always enjoyed a good joke, this time he was only in the dark on this one until the incident played out. Then, he heard about it. Turns out, he passed on the "government" Leafs tickets for a particular game to his adoring daughter, who in turn passed the ice level tickets onto a friend. The friend who had many outstanding debts and no money to pay them off decided he would set up the ulitmate bet..........he bet all the folks he owed money to that he could somehow manage to get onto the ice at Maple Leaf Gardens and run naked across the blue lines. SURE!

So, on the night of the game, buddy fella donned a one piece mechanics work coverall and headed off to the game.....at some point during a lull in the action, he unzipped, stripped and JUMPED over the boards an onto the ice..............slipping and sliding and hoping not to get too close to an errant skate blade........pumping his fists in the air! BETS all paid off!! oooooweeee! Of course, the sleepy sports writers (this was in the dark blue period of the Leafs history where they couldn't score if their lives depended on it, so there was very little to write about) scribbled the story and scrambled to find out just who owned the season's tickets! Oooops! The Government of Ontario.....thank you very much. Poor Buzzie was left with some 'splaining to do.

I'm sure it was really really embarrassing and very scandalous at the time. I wasn't part of the family then, so I don't know the intensity of the rage right after the incident. But, what I do know is that it has become one of the most cherished and funny stories to come out of the Buzzie's political years.

Funny, the more I think about the whole idea of this type of scandalous activity.....where no one is hurt......where morality is tickled, not stomped on, the more I feel that we don't pinpoint what is really wickedly wrong. A determined life inside a bubble and not breathing anything but stale air filled with old ideas is where i think the scandal lies..... yes, what is scandalous is living a life where discomfort is dismissed.

The prompt this week for Sunday Scribblings is scandalous.........the word just hisses off the tongue doesn't it? For more interpretations, check out their blog......right Here.

Too Much Drama, Obama

Can one man be placed in a position where he could possibly orchestrate the changes needed to end wars, fix the economy, provide health care for every single American, bring back jobs, stability, pride, soothe relationships with other countries, bring harmony and understanding throughout the land? Is there one person who can live up to the mile high list of expectations which seems to keep growing in need and priorities? Can one human being...............a HUMAN BEING.........be responsible for cleaning up the environment, finding new energy resources, put dictators in the place, pull down walls, stop tsunamis, create abundance, eradicate poverty, eliminate racism and inequality..................oh, and do this by working through the mire of a shut down ineffective mess called bureaucracy where kingdom creating and "working in silos" are the order of the day? I don't think so.

The expectations placed on Barak Obama are completely off the scale. Its insanity! Yes, he's inspirational and he does seem to have the eyes, ears and heart of enough American voters that he has a good chance of winning on Tuesday. Maybe he is the real deal. Who would know? The world of politics and campaigning has become a such a slick manipulative wank on the public that I don't think anyone has a handle on what is true and what is made up. The mud slinging on both sides, and the spinning of issues and controversies as they creep into the media seemingly on a daily basis dirties the process to a point where I have swallowed a whole pint of pessimism.

Take the stories reported by so called journalists and shared on the national morning radio news. On Tuesday, the CBC reported that Obama was going to win by a landslide. It'll be a cakewalk, even in diehard Republican territory. Then, on Wednesday, the "angle" was much more subdued and doubtful.........they maintain Obama will win, but that McCain is closing the gap. Neither story had any depth to verify and justify the predictions. Rather, it was surface skimming journalism, which seems to be the norm these days. However, both stories had one major theme in common...........that Barak Obama is the second coming.

Excuse me??? No, he's not. This crowning and fawning over the man by the mainstream media, on Youtube, on blogs, in editorials both in the papers, on the TV, on the internet, on the radio does counteract the threats and nasties spewing out of Sister Sarah's gosh darn mouth, and the painfully obvious angry man John McCain. However, I am left with a serious bad taste emanating from my gut. It's all Smoke and Mirrors, tit for tat phony baloney......because who out there really knows what's true? The 1/2 hour infomercial last night which cost over a 3 million dollars.....a mere spit in the bucket when he has 150 million raised in September alone to spend by next Tuesday.......was a glossy emotional heart tugging staged chat, accompanied by a soundtrack right out of a David Lean movie. The only thing missing was a demonstration of some K-tel Bass-o-matic grinding device a la Dan Ackroyd and SNL.

The amount of money spent on this election is shocking. Hundreds and hundreds of millions of dollars...........and people are homeless and starving because the banks are going down the drain?? I don't get it.

The smears and innuendos are beyond the pale. I can't imagine what its like living in the United States right now with the onslaught of talking heads and talk shows along with the regular news shows clamouring to continue stirring it all up. There's no room on those shows to even LOOK at stories and news happening beyond the borders. At least when I take in some form of news that I am offered an array of stories with both a national and internation flavour. Do you think the average Joe the Plumber even knows about the deadly earthquake in Pakistan earlier in the week.....? Doubt it very much.

If Obama does manage to stay alive and get elected as President of the United States, no one should expect he will accomplish much outside of the borders of his country. He will be so busy trying to stop the pulsing jugular which is bleeding all over both "Wall Street and Main Street," that he won't be looking at any issues internationally. Or maybe he will. Maybe I've got it all wrong. Maybe he is the Messiah and peace and harmony is within reach.

Ah, the audacity of hoping for hope.........reckless? No........this isn't a reckless election campaign. It is scheduled and planned out right down to very last minute.

Will Obama win? Who knows at this point. All it takes is one big faux pas.....and you can bet your ass the Karl Rove is not sleeping while looking for that nugget.

gladness and hunger

"God's calling is found in the place
where one's deep gladness
meets the world's deep need."
Frederick Buechner

I have been thinking about the word gladness for a while now. It's just one of those words that seems to get stuck in my craw for some strange reason and it won't let go.....kind of like the chewing antics of this puppy who accompanies me in the morning while I try to write. The word and her chewing are incessant, though I can't say I'm "glad" about it.........more annoyed as she tugs away at my sleeve! She seems glad and eventually I will too when her company isn't so disruptive.

Gladness or the term "Gladdens" seems to be a peripheral term you hear often connected to sermons or used when someones says grace. For some reason it resonates with more depth of feeling than it used to in my thinking. There's more to it.......

Gladness….a softening smile on the inside when you know you are doing exactly what God intended.

The essence of gladness can accompany even the most painful sorrow when there is unconditional love and belonging shared with another……..gladness is the soul touching clarity of a sense of oneness between someone in need and another who answers the calling. It is a deeply felt validation captured by the actions of one's acknowledgement and the other one's acceptance of it. It's like a warm caressing of intertwined souls.

Frederick Buechner encapsulates the yearning for gladness in the following paragraph where he describes the needs all human beings crave to fulfill. When I read this piece aloud, I find it so powerful............so bang on. In fact, I read it aloud to a friend at work yesterday and it precipitated a wonderful discussion on how lucky we are to be working in a place where we are given the opportunity to touch our own core where gladness dwells, and how often we can see and feel it in others.

"We hunger to be known and understood. We hunger to be loved. We hunger to be at peace inside our own skins. We hunger not just to be fed these things but, often without realizing it, we hunger to feed others these things because they too are starving for them. We hunger not just to be loved but to love, not just to be forgiven but to forgive, not just to be known and understood for all the good times and bad times that for better for worse have made us who we are, but to know and understand each other to the same point of seeing that, in the last analysis, we all have the same good times, the same bad times, and that for that very reason there is no such thing in all the world as anyone who is really a stranger."- Frederick Buechner

How true.... If we can look through our own lens at another person and realize just how much the same we are on the inside, the connection we feel....an intertwining caressing of two souls, will lead to feeling the essence of gladness. Sometimes it may accompany sorrow. It may force us to taste the parched emptiness of their hunger and leave us to feel impotent in what we can do to help them, but in that one instant where the connection occurs....that can never be taken away. One seed......just may be the food needed to share with another.

Our combination of life experiences may be vastly different.....it is the understanding and recognition that we are all filled with the same hunger which allows gladness to prevail. Gladness is the thanksgiving of grace.

laughing legs, happy feet, hopeful heart.

Anyone who reads my blog regularly knows how much I love the Boyce Farmer's Market in Fredericton. It is my pleasurable destination on Saturday mornings. I usually try to get there before the crowds so I can mooch around, buy produce and something savoury OR sweet to eat, take photos, and most importantly have a chance to talk to friends who work there and others whom I happen to cross marketplace paths with. It's a touch base place...........a "how was your week" kind of comraderie, though I do find that many of the conversations I end up having are much deeper and more interesting than one would expect. I think that's what makes this market unique.

There's no telling what subjects are on the menu........it usually depends on what is happening in the city or beyond it's borders. Politics is a huge staple, as it is THE destination for any glad-handing campaigner. Global issues, recent reads, what's happening at the Universities, the weather of course because that is ALWAYS threaded into a conversation with a Canadian, sports, health.....the economy are all fodder for opinion driven open airing. There are regular buskers, a balloon animal creative clown who last month had a sign asking everyone to VOTE for Tinsel for Prime Minister, a few regular people asking for money. There's a little girl entrepreneur who has her own table (a child's plastic picnic table) where she sells "tickle sticks" and beaded bracelets. Tickle sticks are kebab sticks skewered with gummy candy. The place is full of activity...........full of hardworking farmers selling their harvests, fishermen from the north shore selling their fresh catch, and creative individuals selling their wares.

BTW, The photos accompanying this piece are of the same woman I've been photo stalking for the past year, and she found me out!! :) I have been OUTED as a legging admirer!! Lisa sells wonderfully eclectic bags, satchels, knitted hats and of course leggings like the ones in the first photo. She's now a bloggie reader! Hope you like the pics altogether Lisa. You keep being leggy creative and I'll keep taking pics. Then, we'll do something REALLY cool with them, K?

Yesterday morning, I was up very early once again writing while everyone slept. After I put a dent into the piece I ended up finishing and posting later in the day, I got dressed and headed out the door, only to be blown away by the beauty of the sunrise. It never ceases to take my breath away, especially the sunrises in the fall. For some reason, and I'm sure there's a scientific reason to it, the sunrises are much more vivid and dramatic in the fall. Ribbons of red and orange spread out across a purple sky, interspersed with the dark layers of cloud. It made the newly naked trees silouetted as it reached from the land up into the vast sky. I stood there and marvelled at how lucky I am to be living in this part of the world where abundance is taken for granted, where beauty never sleeps. It is never hard to find.

It seemed more powerful, more emotional to me yesterday morning, and I think that had to do with much of the reading I have been doing this week on the conflict and oppression in the occupied territorities where my friend Paul has been experiencing and exploring as a pilgrim. His posts have been heartflowing and have prompted me to educate myself a bit more on the conflicts in that part of the world.

I couldn't live farther away from strife than I do. The sense of freedom, spiritually, politically, emotionally, expressively paints our skies with hopeful comfort. Our dreams expand beyond the horizons into the infinite possibilities of eternity. This is what I was thinking as I looked out at a new day dawning, realizing just how damn lucky I am.

As I turned on the car to set off, a song came over the airwaves which nearly sideswiped me with it's magical timing. Alison Kraus' version of Down to the River to Pray (from O Brother Where Art Thou) filled my van as I pulled out of the driveway and headed east towards the Monet sky, with the beautiful Saint John River flowing beside me. The hymn never fails to grab hold of something very deep inside me and pulls me into singing along off key but in my mind completely in harmony. The purity of her voice is like listening to a ray from the sun.

The next song on the radio also blew me away because of the symbolism and memories it holds for me. James Taylor's version of You've Got a Friend........ All of a sudden, I'm transported back to a chapel I had orchestrated many years ago at the summer camp I attended and worked at. It was the last chapel of the summer..........AND the last summer of my 12 years at camp. I had taught my group of girls/campers the song in order to have them sing it with me at the chapel. I loved the song and wanted to pass it onto the rest of the camp in order for it to be included in the songbook/repetoire for the future.

So, there I was driving to the Market but completely and utterly remembering the very moment when my girls and I got up to sing it...... what happened as soon as I opened my mouth to lead the song? I was struck with such a forceful blast of emotions, like my 12 years of camp was floating quickly passed me, that I couldn't get past the first two lines.

My throat constricted, my mind went blank and I was overwhelmed by the reality that my years at a place I STILL hold close was coming to an end. I was also acutely aware that I was standing up in front of 100+ sets of eyes who were expecting me to continue to conduct a Sunday chapel! I was a wee bit mortified! But, you know what happened? The group of 8 girls who had been under my wing for a whole month continued singing.

They circled around me and let me step back behind them and they taught the camp the song, with their fearless leader soaking in a puddly mess of teardrops behind them. It was like a passing of the baton. I'll never forget it. Many of those girls, who are now in their 40's are still in touch, and I love that. I heard from 3 of them just last week.

The drive to the market thank GOD is only 2 songs long or I would've visited my whole life in one reflective stint! It was just enough to boost my sense of who I am and what continues to stir my sense of gratitude. Once there, I parked in my secret parking spot, I got out of the van, hot tea in hand, camera slung over my shoulder as well as my big market bag. The sky was lightening up but full of a salmon glow. I found my way along the sidewalk heading towards the stalls, when I realized that the uplifting feeling I have for this corner of the world stems from a sense of belonging.......like being folded into a duvet just out of the dryer on a cold day.

And off I went.........with laughing legs, happy feet and a hopeful heart. The morning shone from within.

ps. thank you Lisa for being a good sport. I really am a sane woman. just a bit eccentric.

HERE is the link to Alison Krauss singing Down To the River to Pray. I dare you not to sing along!

a stroll inside a system.

There's always a reason or two or three why someone has found themselves living on social assistance. It's not a lifestyle choice, though it can easily turn into a lifestyle. Once someone has walked through the door of the welfare office, which is recognized as the last stop at the end of the road for financial help, and finds out they qualify for assistance, the longer they remain on and IN the system the harder it is to get off. It's a big black hole of dependence. It's like the scene in Alice in Wonderland where she keeps falling and falling through the rabbit hole, only there isn't a tea party at the end of the drop. Rather, it leads to a maze which seems to have one dead end after another, all made more complicated by the distorting mirrors which reflect shame, guilt and fear. It takes such emotional strength to figure out how to exit successfully before depression, desolation and dependence sets in. It ain't Wonderland like Alice's. Its more like Wretched Wonderland.

There is no room to look at someone's situation at face value though the way things are set up with a shrinking number of people working in the frontlines that's the typical approach. A one line summing up of why someone is receiving a paltry monthly cheque from the government in order to survive doesn't cut it. As far as I'm concerned the word "lazy" is a four letter one. It could be that their outward behaviour appears to be lazy-like, but the internal churnings, the conflicts behind the actions spell out a very different description of what is really going on. I have always believed and will continue to believe that "being on welfare" is the least of the worries....... "being on welfare" is a symptom of internal angst. If we are to ever really and truly help the human beings who are able to lift up and out of the system once and for all, we need time to respectfully connect, engage, interact, understand, encourage, listen, listen, listen and guide them ONE AT A TIME out of the wretchedness. And for the people who simply need to remain receiving assistance, they need our support and comforting and understanding.


If one wants to help someone pull themselves up from the mucky mire, one has to help them unravel their feelings and let them tell their story. It's the only way out...... it is the map to figuring out how to get out of the maze. What makes it complicated is that the map contours are different for everyone. How to interpret it is an individually driven process. Sure there are generalizations that can be applied. It is a known fact that the majority of people who end up sitting across from someone like me is suffering from depression. Even knowing that and helping someone recognize this is not enough, especially if the person is a part of a family or community who have historically been linked to the social welfare system for years.


It takes time and a willingness on both sides of the interactive partnership to dig deep to find the reasons behind the circumstances.....It takes time to sift through to figure out where the fear and the emotional pain dwell in their souls. The map always has the same destination.......if you take the time to read it together.


I look for signs of motivation.....the brute determination, the fire in the belly, the hope behind the words and expressions as markers on the person's personal map to help me see if there is a readiness to move forward and I point it out to them. I look for signs of emotional turmoil, usually shared in a story or two that have floated up to the top of the conversation like buoys bobbing in the open harbour of thoughts. I look for the fear...........the rope wrapped around the burdened statements that begin with the words "BUT," "I Can't,"............or in the eyes which spell out hesitation, loss, unknown..........sometimes even hidden behind the self deprecating humour thrown out in the conversation. Sometimes is is caught up in the back of the throat recognized in a whispered feeling between the words. These are at the crux of why someone simply can't get unstuck from the muck that is their life.



The other day, I met with a very young mother in her home. I wanted to see her environment. I was curious about how she interacted with her toddler. Outward appearances, she seemed to have everything in place to grab hold of life.....her health, some supportive family around her, an education to build from. Her daughter was well care for and obviously the two of them had a close bond. This young woman was a beautifully well dressed smiling human being who giggled a lot, and only gave me short answers with no depth. She had NO idea what she wanted to do with her life.........or so she said. She also seemed to have no desire to engage in a deeper conversation with me. This had been her pattern with others in the frontlines, and it made her appear lazy, unmotivated, dismissive, haughty. It made her look like she was only keen to stay far away from responsibility or any self directed independence.


Reality had been pointed out to her.......in accusational words many times and it only made her more unresponsive. Confrontation wrapped up in the voice of parental authority was not the ticket,.....it never is, but for the most part it seemed as though this is how her life and our system treated her. Either she was "saved" by an enabler, or she was "scolded" by a system. Her own feet had never found their walking shoes. Her own ability to be an adult, to think and feel like an adult and to demand to be treated as one wasn't recognized nor encouraged.


This is where I steered the raft of our first meeting...........adult to adult conversation, through my own self disclosure of what it has been like to be a Mom, to be undecided. I shared little snippets of me and spoke to her as one woman to another despite the fact that she was young enough to be my daughter. It was important to level that playing field. No one reacts well to a judgemental "parent" barking at you. Surface talk to begin with.....and that's alright because it's on the surface where we must begin building a rapport and the trust to mine the wounds, the fears, the trepidations which are the ropes around her burdens. She doesn't want to be on welfare. No one does. Many can't get out and get off the dole for many serious reasons........ but I know this one can. It's what I shared with her......


As I watched and interacted with her daughter while lobbing questions towards the young woman as a way to level the playing field......as a way to assess the feelings behind the words spoken and the body language....... she doesn't know what she really wants to do........ that's fine, that's fine...... most people really don't know either...... I tried to get under her skin........to see through her eyes..... and as we grappled with the first of hopefully many conversations, I wondered if perhaps she thought that once she made a career decision it was set in stone. The career she chooses would be THE path she would HAVE to take for...the...rest...of....her.....life....

How daunting! Not REALLY knowing if this may be one of the obstacles to making any decisions and remaining stuck, I lob it out.......



"Do you know that most people have 5 or 6 or ever 20 different careers by the time they retire??What usually happens is that once you get started, you realize you have broader interests and different skills than you realize........or sometimes the labour market changes and the job you have been trained to do doesn't exist," I remark. "That's what happened to me. I moved here after graduating in a field where i specialized in working with babies or working in a school system to help kids who are struggling with the work or with just fitting in. I always thought I would be surrounded by kids. But, it never really happened."



I see that I have her attention, though she is still appearing to focus on her daughter. Her body language tells me different.......so I continue..... "I have found another path, and one that keeps changing.........but it is a path where I get to work with adults and sometimes I get a chance to meet 2 year olds and play with them too. I fought it for a long time.....kept trying to find THE job for me in the school system or in early intervention and when I was finally offered one, I turned it down because I realized I LOVE working with adults. I can be more real."
"There are so many things that can affect the decisions we make OR don't make and life just happens to force us to go another route.....even where we end up living. It makes a big difference in our options. Babies sure make you think differently don't they?? I couldn't believe how much my life changed when I had children.......most of the time it's great, but some of the time it feels like such a burden and I don't feel like I have any freedom."


She laughs and agrees, but doesn't share........not too much......but it's all there, just under the surface.


"I think many people feel a big amount of pressure to figure it out with the belief that once the decision is made, there's no turning back. That's why we were given the gift of reflection. We are always assessing and reflecting on our decisions, on our past and wondering about our futures. But, a decision can always be altered, dropped, or even expanded on. Isn't that the right of females to change their mind??" She laughs....



I stop my perambulating thinking out loud approach and she responds..... "I do feel pressured. I have a lot of things going on in my life......."



There it is......the offering....one of the buoys bobbing in the harbour. I don't have a clue what is happening in her life, what she is struggling with. Yet. But, for the first time, a glimmer that perhaps she will trust me enough to spill a little of her internal churnings is seen. Good.


"Why don't we meet again in a week.....maybe in my office where we can have some privacy and you can share some of what your struggling with."


"OK".......she says smiling........


Before I know it, I'm back in my car on my way to another appointment. I don't have a clue how long it will take to help this young woman find her way out of the rabbit hole. It's completely up to her to make the decisions, and to do the hard reflecting work. It will be up to her to take the steps forward. I can't take them for her. I can't carry her. Besides, she's had too much carrying. She needs to learn how to fish in the harbour and provide for herself and her daughter. Can she do it? Will she? It'll take time.......... but I'm guessing she just may figure it out. I want to be there when she catches her first big fish.

One at a time............out of the muck.

la luna

Early morning and I found myself, outside with a cup of tea in hand. Barefoot, I stood in my housecoat in the dark fog waiting for my puppy to do her thing. It was so quiet except for the sound of a car in the distant somewhere. The only light was a solitary streetlamp at the edge of my property. Around me were the remnants of the flowers, most of which didn't make it through the night frost. Up above was a half moon with a glowing fog circle around it............all alone up there. Like me down below.

Whenever I look up at the moon, I travel in my thoughts wondering about others. Like many, the moon is a focal point for this kind of reverie. The other night out of the blue, my son who was sitting on the couch with me watching the ballgame asked........ "I wonder if anyone is thinking of me right now?"


"Your Dad probably is......." I reply, knowing it was around bedtime in Iceland where he was attending a music festival with his brother.


"I'm thinking it's Sandy......(our friend who lives in Barcelona). I don't know why, but I have this strange feeling that Sandy's thinking about me."


"Could be.....you never know. There are quite a few people out there who may be thinking about you Max. It's a good feeling isn't it?"


Yes it is..........yes it is. Our conversation then led to wondering about the people in our lives who are out there..........wondering how they are and then expanding on our discussion with stories and memories of the last time we were in contact with them. It was a global conversation ........ ranging from Japan, to England, to Tunisia where my parents were visiting on their cruise vacation.......to Iceland, to Burlington where much of our family lives........to down the street. The people in our lives are spread out across the globe. We live in an era where it all feels like "just down the street" because we are all a finger touch away. More importantly, they come rushing right to us and settle inside as soon as we think of them. Our thoughts spin threads outward, using the moon to lasso the people in our thoughts right back to us. It's synchronistically magical.


As I looked from my vantage point of the front steps at the lonely moon I wondered who was thinking about me and then I turned my thoughts towards the people I was thinking of sending messages up to the moon to loop around it and fall down into their skin. Sometimes I feel like if I think about someone really intensely they can feel it. I believe this wholeheartedly. It happens to me so it must happen to others. I'm not that bizarre am I? I'll be going about my day only to stop in my tracks when a strong surging connection to another fills me with a smile. From that point, I continue but with a goofy smile on my face as I recall a conversation, an email, an event......as I conjure up their face and warmth.


la luna........

I wonder what he's doing right now?

I wonder where she is right now?

I hope he's figuring it out.

I can't wait to tell her all about what i've just read.

I hope he's coping

I hope she's happy.

Where are they today? I hope they know I'm thinking of them.

I hope he has a day of wonder....

I pray................all the way up to the moon and back..... with feeling.

It's time for a new day to begin. I'm thinking of you. Can you feel it under your skin?

jack happy

It's that time of year again when people go a little bonkers decorating their lawns and verandas with ghoulies, and ghosties........and smiling pumpkins. happy halloween...........a little early. This piece of folksy art is quite large actually and would look great hanging on a white picket fence. It was for sale at the farmer's market..

This week's theme is HAPPY! More to come this week on this theme. hmmmm, where are my happy feet? For more happy snappies, check out Mr. Happy Guy, Carmi's blog.

survival.

"Our real journey in this life is interior; it is a matter of growth, deepening, and of an ever greater surrender to the creative action of love and grace in our hearts. Never is it more necessary for us to respond to that action." Thomas Merton.

Last Friday, I spent most of the afternoon sitting with a woman in her kitchen. She was only 7 years older than me but she looked as old as the hills. Confined to her apartment because of a weak heart and a severe pulmonary disorder, she was also hooked up to an oxygen feed...........a long tube attached to a tank that was hooked under her nose providing constant air. A year ago, her whole respiratory and circulatory systems seized. She was told by the ER doctor when she finally made her way to the hospital after a couple of months of denial and coping with symptoms that would've left most of us on the side of the road, that she wouldn't make it through the day. She was told she was dying and they couldn't save what was left of her lungs. They were too damaged. She'd be dead by dinner so she better make arrangements for her family to join her there so they could say goodbye.

Can you imagine? How appalling is that?

The lack of empathy and complete absence of any form of proper bedside manner by the attending respiratory specialist left her with bitter determination to prove him wrong. This feisty woman told him too in big florid language while laying on a gurney, hooked up to machinery. Every day that she was hospitalized, she reminded him that she had more living to do and she wasn't ready to die.

A year later, she lives the fullest extent as she can given her confinement and her serious health issues. Last winter, she was not allowed to leave her apartment at all because she wouldn't be able to handle the cold air. So, from the day she arrived home last October until March 14th, she remained cloistered and dependent on her family to run errands. Her family doctor was a phone call away and made sure that her prescriptions were covered and delivered. She has never seen the specialist again and has no intention to.

Her life sentence is just that. During our conversation, she openly expressed her anger and grief over her loss of independence, but she was also quick to throw in the dark humour only someone who's struggled even on her good days. This is a woman whose hard life has been one huge struggle.........poverty and abuse as a child living in a distant rural area, minimal educaton because she was forced to go to work at age 14 to help pay the bills and her father's drinking habit, an abusive marriage. As a mother of 4 young children she found the strength to leave the violence behind and go out on her own. She single handedly raised 4 children, all of whom completed school..........2 who went onto post high school training. They all work now and have families of their own. She did this working two minimum wage jobs....."stealing from Peter to pay Paul.........and sometimes putting the two of them off for a month and hoping somehow the bills would get paid...."

There was never time to look beyond the day she was living. The future is a luxury when one is trying to find a way to get through another day. Ironically, most of us are trying to LEARN how to do this..........to live in the moment and embrace the moment etc, and for someone living the suffering, this is reality, not something to learn from some Budhist flavoured how to book. And it's because she has weathered many storms she's able to cope with the drastic changes to her lifestyle. Now, recognizing that she needed to mourn her old life and move on, this scrappy determined woman redefined her perception of independence. It's all a state of mind.

Last March 14th, when the weather was warm enough, she extended the tube length of her oxygen lifeline so it was long enough to leave her apartment, in order to walk down a small flight of stairs and out the back door to the outdoors, in order to walk down another flight of stairs to the laundry room, in order to visit her neighbours, to get her mail, and to greet her grandchildren at the front door when they come to spend the weekend with their grandma.

How has she been able to do this? Where does she get this positive outlook? I asked her many questions along these lines...............her answer?? In a nutshell........The act of loving and the feeling of belonging play a major role as does her attitude and decision not to fight destiny.........just go with it. This woman's journey is internal which is a much longer and broader journey than any external one. Independence is a state of mind. You can be completely dependent on others for your well being, but if you can maintain some level of empowerment, the feeling of independence continues to be reinforced. It's all in how you view life looking from the outside in. Oh, and humour......and lots of it.

I don't know if I could be so optimistic and brave to face mortality head on. I don't know if I could live with such confinement without succumbing to depression. Where does one find such faith and hope in the face of having no real control over the future?

we are not afraid.

Two links I would like to share. I tried to post it right here, but have had no luck.

So.......

Please take in this speech. It leaves me with shivers of hopeful inspiration. Here is the link

Then, hear it in harmonious inspiration....... and sing along. Let the hymn breathe with you as it should wherever you are and however this finds you tonight.

We are not afraid.......we are not afraid....

We shall overcome someday.

shalom.

the passion of red

Red bleeds meaningful attention. We are pulled into this colour like no other because of what it represents in our thinking. War, conflict, vibrant life and the drama of death all encompass the passion of red. It runs the gamut doesn't it?

Held in it's hue is violent rage as well as desirous love. The beat of red tangos. It never waltzes. It pulls people close together face to face in heated debate, fueling attacks and consequent drawbacks after vicious stabbings and accusations. But, it also is the sexual flame between two people in the throes of lovemaking.

Red is life lived to the fullest. It is a open hearted expression.....of stirred yearnings to actively take on an adventure.....to run, not walk.......to dance, not stand still.......to take hold of the pulse of life and let go of doubt.

Red is there at the beginning of life and at the end of it. As in nature, when the sugar maple leaves turn from green to red, we recognize a time of transition......and with any transition there follows change.

I spotted this leaf atop of a young sapling which was nestled in a group of mature evergreen trees. It was only one of two leaves on the small tree and it was a wonder that it had the strength to compete with the evergreens for sun and sustenance. But it did, with a wound cut through it's perfection. I love the symbolism of this brave little leaf. What a feisty survivor. May it grow to experience many seasons and many transitions. May we all.

blurred reflections....

You haven't looked at me that way in years

You dreamed me up and left me here

How long was I dreaming for

What was it you wanted me for

You haven't looked at me that way in years

Your watch has stopped and the pond is clear

Someone turn the lights back on

I'll love you til all time is gone

You haven't looked at me that way in years

But I'm still here.

Tom Waits

4 am feeds on a loneliness wrought with serpentine emotions which tend to hide away during daylight. Night watches time differently as it moves in a dream state. It filters our reflections and fears through glass altering truth. We may have moments of clarity in the deep forest of the dark night, but for the most part the monsters of internal doubt blur our sleep deprived imaginations. Lost love wraps itself in the misery of wet tears and the curling smoke from the end of your last cigarette.

Another offering of the photographic theme.....blur. For more, check out Carmi's blog....just click on the link from my sidebar.