Wednesday, May 06, 2009

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.

Tuesday, May 05, 2009

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.

Monday, May 04, 2009

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.

Sunday, May 03, 2009

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.

Saturday, May 02, 2009

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??

Friday, May 01, 2009

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......

Thursday, April 30, 2009

playing for his supper


In between the sighing notes
hanging in the cool autumn air
are the colours of longing
in lonely blues.
Breath upon breath
he plays for his supper,
a musical melody
a lamenting need.
If you stop to really listen,
you will find the grace
tucked into the sound of the song.
___________________________
Walk out, into the sunburst street
Sing your heart out,
sing my heart out
I’ve found grace inside a sound
I found grace, it’s all that I found
And I can breathe
Breathe now
(U2 Breathe)
Thank you Pip for sharing theses lovely lyrics with me. I'll meet you out on the sunburst street. I'll be the one hailing a cab, breathing and looking for you. :)
This week's Photo theme at Carmi's place is musical. Play on!

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

the woodcutter....


A story a friend shared with me today...... he called it a modern parable....


Once upon a time, there was a very poor woodcutter who lived in a small village somewhere in Europe. He lived with his son whom he loved dearly. The only possession he had was a beautiful stallion.

The villagers often asked him.... "why don't you sell your stallion? Then you'd have money to live on and you wouldn't be cursed by poverty."

He told them he would keep his stallion.... he always replied .... "Whether it's a curse or a blessing, I do not know."


One day, the stallion jumped the fence and took off across the fields and into the woods. The villagers arrived and said. "This is a curse! You've now lost your only means of prosperity."

The Woodcutter again replied, "Whether its a curse or a blessing, I do not know."

Sure enough, the stallion returned one day and brought along a few other wild horses with him. The woodcutter was delighted to see the stallion and the villagers, impressed with this event pointed out...."This is a blessing! You now have grown rich! You must feel blessed by this turn of events!?"

And the Woodcutter replied. "Whether its a blessing or a curse, I do not know."


The Woodcutter's son decided to train the new stallions. One day, he was thrown off a horse and broke both of his legs. The villagers expressed their concern....."This is terrible! We're so sorry for surely this is a curse brought upon you and your son."


But the Woodcutter replied again...."Whether its a blessing or a curse, I do not know."

Out of the blue, a violent war broke out across the land. Every single young man in the village and beyond was recruited to fight against the enemy..... every single one except the Woodcutter's son because of his broken legs. And every single one died except the Woodcutter's son.


A blessing or a curse? I do not know......

Monday, April 27, 2009

a beautiful old soul


Look into the deep blue pooling eyes of an old soul and you will see the eternal flickering light of God. Spend time with one who carries within a soul who has lived and breathed many times. You will sense a spirit unlike another. Tucked deep and wide is an essence steeped in knowledge which is expressed in their manner, in their being. It’s not showy or hung out like a neon sign. This knowledge is simply present. You can feel its radiance all around the aura of an old soul and you can't help but be pulled into the pool. Sometimes you can't put your finger on what it is that sets aside an individual like this. You simply know its special.

I met an old soul in my late teens, only briefly spending time with him because our personal transitions were taking us in different directions. But every time we met, our conversations took on an infinite feeling of possibilities and dreams. It felt magically real as though the space we were in was protected by a sheen of oneness, disconnected somehow from the rest of the world. Our own energy complimented one another like we were on the same plane and we didn't need to justify any statements or wishes shared. An unconditional, knowing acceptance of thought....that's how it felt.

As I went off to university, he remained home to work and to save his money to travel the world. He was a tenderhearted nomad. He was a true free spirit who always walked to his own tune. When everyone around him was taking the safe route, he was fulfilling a different kind of dream. One day, he bought a one way ticket west and began his journey on his own....fulfilling his purpose perhaps, or just inhaling new experiences to shape him. Island hopping , working in Australia, meeting people, hands on learning.....until he arrived in Calcutta, a world away from life in Canada.

My old soul friend spent his days and nights volunteering at Mother Theresa's Home for the Dying, holding the hands of dying human beings, listening to their stories and confessions, being there giving his love over to someone passing on.....to someone who didn't have anyone. 21 years old guided by confidence provided from old soul wisdom. He gave them himself. They gave him new understanding of life’s lessons which I believe he carried close to his heart, marking his choices, impacting his personal destiny in this life.

Throughout his trip, I received postcards. He had promised and he did. They were wonderfully inspiring and filled me with so many questions. I wanted to know the deeper stuff....how he felt, what he really did.....what impacted him the most....had his feelings on death changed? Softened? I wanted to hear all about it.....all the stuff that doesn't ever fit on a postcard. I wanted to learn the lessons he had acquired.

I never knew when he was going to return so I carried on with my own journey and decided to spend a summer in Victoria after I graduated. It was a necessary trip for me as I tried to find my own footing again after graduating and finding myself alone with a broken heart. I too began working with vulnerable people, learning my own integral life lessons while my old soul friend finally returned from his trip. With 25 cents in his pocket, he was dropped off at the highway exit of our hometown walked the few miles to his family's house and surprised them all. He took the summer to acclimatize and to plan his next steps, while I took to that summer to expand my own horizons and figure out my own gameplan.

Our paths missed crossing by one week, but this time, the postcards had turned into letters flying back and forth across the country….pages and pages of pouring, pages and pages of dreams, thoughts, yearnings……..with plans to finally meet up in person when I returned in the fall. When we met up again, the first thing I noticed a necklace he was wearing and asked him where it came from. It had been a gift from a man he sat with while the man was dying in India.

He shared a bit of the wisdom he had gleaned while he witnessed death flow through another human being. He spoke of the sadness he felt knowing that many died without anyone around them. He spoke of the humility he felt surrounded by so many who had so little possessions but were wealthy in spirit. He spoke of how moved he was by all of the people he had the honour to be present with when they took their last breath. I was in awe.

From there, we jumped into where we were at as individuals. His plans were immediate. Mine were extremely up in the air, tied in with another. And as much as there was an unspoken closeness between us, we were in different emotional places…..too far apart at that point to continue on a journey together. Regrettably, we parted with a heaviness of heart. I had chosen a different path.

I never saw him again after that fall when we were 21 years old, though from time to time I heard about him as our lives unfolded far away from one another in different parts of the country. We never communicated again. The long hand written letters never happened again. It seemed too painful somehow. What I do know, and would know this even if I hadn’t heard any of the details, my long ago old soul friend remained connected to community, to people, to family through smiling kindness, dignity and respect for others. His life work paralleled my own.

At times, I have wondered what would’ve happened had we been walking up the same hill…..if I had made different choices at that point in my life. But then so many amazing things would never have occurred…..it’s beyond my comprehension really to wonder this. Still…….

Today, however, I stop in that blanketing of wonder to send a prayer out to my old soul friend. I learned that he died last week on Earth Day. He always was a part of earth’s clay, always grounded and real. Earth Day seems prophetically right for him. Surrounded by his sons, his family……surrounded by the people whom he loved with all his heart. Their grief and emptiness is bottomless I am certain. I mourn for them.



Selfishly in my sadness, I wonder again …… but then I stop recognizing that old souls never vanish. They return again with the glimpse of the light of God to share their wisdom and to continue to learn new life lessons. Our paths are bound to cross somewhere beyond the flowing transition of possibility. It gives me comfort and it makes me smile. What a beautiful man he was….now shining down on all of us. I can feel him...can feel his eternal spirit. Can you?
______________________


Last night, I found my old soul friend in reading this paragraph which somehow found me....
"When the individual life flows towards death, it also flows through death. It travels like the music of the river. Sustained by its passion and belonging and within the sureness of its flowing, the river is alive. It has a future and urgency for new possibility. It has no fear of death and yet at the end of its flow, a river always seems to be dying into the huge embrace of the ocean. Yet there is no break between the end of the river and its flowing life. The song of its end continues to sing back up the river towards the first moments of its visible infant-flow. At death the music of the heart becomes one with the unheard eternal melody." John O'Donahue, Beauty, The Invisible Embrace.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

comfort in searching....


Out on the highways and the by-ways all alone
I'm still searching for, searching for my home
Up in the morning, up in the morning out on the road
And my head is aching and my hands are cold
And I'm looking for the silver lining, silver lining in the clouds
And I'm searching for and
I'm searching for the philosophers stone
And it's a hard road, Its a hard road daddy-o
When my job is turning lead into gold
He was born in the back street, born in the back street Jelly Roll
I'm on the road again and I'm searching for
The philosophers stone
Can you hear that engine
Woe can you hear that engine drone
Well I'm on the road again and I'm searching for
Searching for the philosophers stone

Up in the morning, up in the morning
When the streets are white with snow
It's a hard road, it's a hard road daddy-o
Up in the morning, up in the morning
Out on the job
Well you've got me searching for
Searching for, the philosophers stone
Even my best friends, even my best friends they don't know
That my job is turning lead into gold
When you hear that engine, when you hear that engine drone
I'm on the road again and I'm searching for the philosophers stone

It's a hard road even my best friends they don't know
And I'm searching for, searching for the philosophers stone

Van Morrison.


This song fills the air around me on days when I need to listen to it. Inspirational, knowing....it captures much of how I see life's journey. Today, I have Van to affirm my unbridled yearnings to continue to seek out the philosopher's stone.....to accept my role in turning lead into gold and in trying to help others learn to do the same.

Comfort is found in the most interesting places....not just in joy.....not just in the passionate blues..... but in the silver lining thinness of our expansive imagination. We are only bridled when we turn away from our purpose. We are only bridled when we allow ourselves to be held hostage to our resentments. We remain bridled if we choose to stay enclosed in a room where we can't find our breath. It is when we are out on the road, out on the road where the spirit of our breath allows us to exhale making room for fresh air forgiveness and the sweetness of surrender.

ps. I couldn't find the song on Youtube, but if you've never heard this song, I'd highly recommend I-tuning it.

Saturday, April 25, 2009

hard times come again no more....

I heard a version of this classic Steven Foster song while driving along the Saint John River Valley late this afternoon. Though it was written in the 19th century, it rings true today. Unhappy economic times feels the same then and now.





Let us pause in life's pleasures and count its many tears,
While we all sup sorrow with the poor;
There's a song that will linger forever in our ears;
Oh Hard times come again no more.
Chorus:
Tis the song, the sigh of the weary,
Hard Times, hard times, come again no more
Many days you have lingered around my cabin door;
Oh hard times come again no more.
While we seek mirth and beauty and music light and gay,
There are frail forms fainting at the door;
Though their voices are silent, their pleading looks will say
Oh hard times come again no more.
(Chorus)
There's a pale drooping maiden who toils her life away,
With a worn heart whose better days are o'er:
Though her voice would be merry, 'tis sighing all the day,
Oh hard times come again no more.
(Chorus)
Tis a sigh that is wafted across the troubled wave,
Tis a wail that is heard upon the shore
Tis a dirge that is murmured around the lowly grave
Oh hard times come again no more.
(Chorus)

Friday, April 24, 2009

growth....

It is an incredible thing to catch a glimpse of the flower just past the peak of its bloom, when it begins its dying weep. The strength has diminished leaving the dawning of true beauty. Sadly we often miss this. We think it has already shown its pinnacle of loveliness, and turn away. But that beauty was only visible.....the remarkable beauty is found through vision.

Such a different more profound lens, I believe.


it is what it is....


The preference is always to have a choice, but its rarely the reality in life as much as we want to believe it is. We can set goals, make plans carefully, calculate our next steps and even make good sound decisions. But inevitably, other forces impact how our life unfolds. When you stop and think about all of the variables in our lives which have the potential to tug and pull us away from our much desired choices, its a wonder that we ever feel like we have a choice in how it all unfolds.

I wanted change but on my own terms. I knew it was going to happen. The budget writing was all over the walls! I pursued various avenues and tried to make it happen, but none of the options I was chasing came to be. There's no denying its been painful, and there's no denying I'm still dealing with the residuals of taking it personally. And there's no denying the hot tears of rejection as I struggled for a morsel of understanding as to why things happen. It all there. But, for some strange reason, I'm also feeling like a huge burden has been lifted. My vision seems clearer, and my belief in what is meant to be is allowing me to see a horizon of possibility. There's something to be said about just riding the wave.

This morning as I gather my thoughts and reflect on how I'm truthfully feeling, as I write this post.....I watched dawn break in front of me. The grey clouds moved swiftly from west to east, swept downriver with no control over their destiny. They ride their own windwave...always moving, always reforming, sometimes breaking up and sometimes gathering into a storm. There is bright blue behind that wave of grey. There is a sun too. Now that morning has arrived, I can see the birds too which up until now I could only hear using the wind to propel them on a flight path that looks like fun. They aren't fighting against the forces of nature. They are soaring with it.

Destiny is never held solely in our hands. Attitude is. How we play the hand we're dealt makes all the difference. I still have all the feelings I had yesterday and the day before floating inside me, but they are quickly being swept away by the anticipation of what is ahead of me. It's not a journey I want to take alone. Its not a hand I want to play by myself and thank God I need not worry about that. The choice may not be mine. But, who am I to think I'm any different than anyone else?

Bring it on.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

end of an era


In some ways, it feels like a typical April showery night, middle of the week. The hockey play-offs are on in the background, and everyone is settled in quietly calming down for bedtime. If it wasn't for the recurring jolts of reality which arrive with a zippedyzap through my system, I'd think all is well on the homefront. Alas, I can't ignore the swinging door mixed feelings.....the same ones which accompany the pity party happening in my head.
The job I have been doing for 16 years is no more. Kaput. I've been there since the beginning....I helped define it, create it....nurture it way back then. Now, its not considered important enough...."essential" enough to save....


So, where am I? Let me take Pip's lead and list 5 words...

Fluxed Up

So damn Angry

Appreciative of my friends at work who completely get the situation I'm about to embark on.

Wondering just why the universe continues to work against me and what does it all mean.

Invisibly redundant.

Many stories are stirring inside me.....they will be captured after I can pull my competing thoughts together in some linear fashion. For now........gotta clean out an office, connect with the people I need to connect with, pack some boxes, figure out how to cope, say goodbye (possibly as early as this Friday) to people I've worked with for many years, drink copiously this weekend, suck it up and get on with living a life I seem to have no control over.

today, in the middle of it all........a dear person who has continued to keep an eye on my interests and his heart in his caring support of me said the loveliest thing....He told me he loved me like a sister. It made me cry all over again.

Sometimes sorrow can be comfortable....right my kindred Harbour friend? Sometimes its the only place where comfort dwells.... The comfort is in the warm presence of someone who lets the sorrow spill out.....



'round innocence

her round chubby little cheeks,
deep brown eyes turned down in concentrationat the shiny round rocks that barely fit
in her round dimpled hand.



as she sits quietly on the rug,
with her chubby little round legs

and beautifully adorned feet and toes
spread out to balance her toddler body,
while the crazy lady with her round pointed lens
lays on her own round belly taking photos.
(fortunately no shots of the lady's body parts.)

Carmi's theme this week is "Round"......for more pics, drop by Written Inc.


Tuesday, April 21, 2009

melancholy hues


will you meet me by the shoreline
blue upon blues
and we’ll share our heartheld secrets
dipped in melancholy hues?

will you meet me by the water
skin touching skin
and we’ll share our intimate stories
held deeply within?

will you meet me in the morning
when promise holds such light
and we’ll let the tears glisten to the surface
until our sadness turns to delight?



I would like to be standing on the shoreline looking out at the blue with you, soaking in the medicinal pleasures of tidal breezes on a blustery summer's day. I envisioned this escape scene clearly this afternoon while reflecting on the news I received earlier in the day.
I even closed my eyes and let my imagination paint the shoreline picture so I could feel it like I was really there watching you walk down the beach to meet me instead of trying to wrap my head around the reality of what was really happening in my office. Not only did it help centre me and allow for a moment of meditative calm (as it always does when I do manage to get to the shoreline), it lifted me to a place where reflections and perspective creeped onto my numbness....temporarily. It was only short term because I did have to face the music.
The bad news? After waiting and expecting for months for the axe to fall, it finally did. My position was cut along with every other similiar position across the province. 22 of us.....all Career Consultants who support the Case Managers in the frontlines. A victim of the times in a disposable world of work.

The good news? We are being moved to another department to work on a project. Given the economic climate we all live in, I should feel more gratitude that I still have a job to go to. But, I am not there yet.....partly because I know that some things I do now will never be picked up by another person, and those things hold the meaning for me. Plus, there is no choice here....having no choice sucks.

Many details are unknown, but I'm fairly certain that the ones who are the most vulnerable....the ones who live beyond the margins of the marginalized? They will not be a part of my future. Frighteningly, I think they may have lost whatever voice they had managed to maintain. As for community development and prevention? When the "times" tank economically, everyone goes into reactive mode. Prevention is a luxury I guess. So is quality time making deep connections. It doesn't add up properly on the master spreadsheet.

Will you meet me by the shoreline, blue upon blues?
I'll be there looking for you.

Monday, April 20, 2009

contradictions



the sharp intake of contradiction
sits in wait at the cross of two paths
where painted signs of doubting discomfort
hung in low branches
point out the myriad of directions.

the air is thinly perfumed with baffling adrenaline
and scored by an orchestra of silent instruments
playing to the crowd of lonely patrons

what to do?
who to believe?
why the paradoxes?
what do we thirst?

is contradiction a flirtatious whore in a white dress
who lures innocent hearts into dangerous territory....
or simply a scorned misunderstood woman
offering new awareness in delicate cups
filled with thirst quenching water from the well?

may we accept her for who she is and what she offers -
a place for learning found in the bittersweet elixir of life's adventure.
take care, drink deeply, love like you've never been hurt.
.....know you are part of the unfolding of a mystery
....know that in the core of a contradiction is a clue.

the beauty of an old poet




Ain't it just like a human....
Here comes that rainbow again.


makes me smile....

Sunday, April 19, 2009

WHOA! I THINK SHE'S GOT IT!!!!!!!!

A small incident from many years ago reappeared in my memory bank this week right after a completely separate and seemingly disconnected event happened in my life. Yet, it somehow managed to turn on an internal switch I think I've been fumbling with for what seems like forever. It also turned my frown into giggle when I quickly saw the absurdist analogy. What stumps me is how such a small seemingly inconsequential blip in my life journey has obviously continued to float in the ether of my collective experiences just waiting to become part of a "teachable" moment.

25 years ago, I backpacked through parts of Europe with my friend Heather. Along the way, we hooked up with other travellers...sometimes just for the day.......sometimes a little longer. It depended on the connection and interests....it depended on which direction we were headed. Sometimes, the fates kept intersecting throughout the trip so that our new friends would pop up unexpectedly at another destination unbeknownst to anyone.

This happened consistently with Mike, a beautiful gregarious man from Minnesota whom we had originally met while he was fumbling at the front desk of a dumpy hostel in Athens trying to sort out accomodation. He had just managed to make his way through to Sarajevo for the Olympics and all on his own travelled south by train, crossing a border and dealing with all that entailed. But, for some reason, he couldn't get his act together to communicate his wishes. We watched him for a while....and then went to his rescue. He bought us a beer. We became fast friends.

(shoot! now I'm all wrapped up in ALL the stories of my travels with Mike and I just wanted to share one incident!! ggrr..... gotta stay on track here..... I'll write another piece about him another time because it is a wonderful story about the realness of serendipity...)

So........fasttrack.....we left Athens.....bizarrely reunited on the ferry to Italy.......did Rome in more than a day (AMAZING CITY.....) and ended up in Florence. He and I saw Pisa and Sienna together and loved it while Heather chose to stay in Florence to soak in the art. On the last day together (or so we thought because fates kicked in twice more on this backpack trip to pull us together) we were standing in the Florence train station with plans to go in different directions. At this point, there were two Brazillian travellers with us who spoke English and Portugese.

It was a bit chaotic that morning....notorious Italian strikes the day before had messed up the train schedules. So, Mike took it upon himself to approach a tiny old Italian woman who was standing behind a counter to ask about departure times. Without any hestitation, he asked her in English....not even considering the woman may not speak the language. The woman duffed him off with her hand telling him in Italian, "no english..." So, what did Mike do? He spoke LOUDER and SLOWER!

Hello!? A little smacking of entitlement stirring around in that manboy's body??

Frustration on both sides filled the air. It was classic. The old woman completely dismissed him as an idiot American traveller. And Mike who was a pleasant friendly guy was hurt in some weird way....he was misunderstood. I think it was an ego bite. We added to the bite by asking him YET AGAIN how he had managed to travel solo through Eastern Europe without someone knocking his block off? Why did he always assume everyone could speak and understand English??

One of the guys from Brazil took over. He approached the old woman behind the counter while we stood off to the side, far enough away that we couldn't hear the conversation. In seconds, he had the woman smiling and conversing. Strange.....he didn't speak Italian, and we assumed the woman didn't speak Portugese. And yet, he managed to return to us with the departure time information. Dumbfounded, I said to him....

"I didn't know you spoke Italian..."

"I don't," he replied, "I just changed the accent on my Portugese. There's enough similarities in the language that she was able to understand me."

I hadn't thought about this silly incident for years until I was driving home one day this week. I had just been confronted with the realization that my emotions were eating me up and driving others away. Not only that, because I hadn't been heard....or they hadn't been acknowledged therefore not affirmed as a human being (this is how it felt....I think its an EGO thing!!!), I did what I do best,.....I had been rachetting them up a notch or two. I had been consistently turning up the decibels. And when that didn't work, I sucked them in and simmered in the sludge of pissed offness. I know I have channelled them into my writing, but apart from that venue, they were either being supressed or spilling out scaring people.

Listen to me for God's sake! Can't you understand the language of my emotions???? This was the frustration I have been feeling in all parts of my life. If a person dismissed me because they were afraid of how intense my feelings were, I felt rejected. If a person tried to help me unravel the now pent up potent stew boiling away, I flooded them. No inbetween seemed to be available to me. No explanations or attempts to describe it using the same language helped me at all. It never occured to me that all I had to do is step back and perhaps change the accent. I seemed to have been stuck in a place of entitlement like Mike and expected others to get it.

There is absolutely no doubt that I am an emotionally driven person. I always have been....I feel it in myself and I feel it deeply in others. This is what helps me be a good counsellor. This is what I can POUR out as a facilitator in front of a classroom full of learners. I see how it helps me connect to others who are trying to scramble up out of a hole. The complicated feelings that make up a deep firey belly of passion has tremendous implications, both positive and negative. Cognitively I understand this....and intellectually I know many don't have this desire or capacity to pull from in themselves. Big feelings scare the shit out of most people. My fears are different.....spiders, snakes, flying....death, drowning, being rejected.....the whole God existance or not thing...... lots of fears here. But, I ain't afraid of emotions.

I have been told time and again I'm too sensitive....too dramatic....my feelings are right there on my sleeve, expressed through my vocal chords, in my writing. The most unnatural thing for me to do is to suppress. The absolute worst thing someone can do to me is ignore me....to remain silent simmering in their own feelings. When this is combined with a sense of something being unfair, well I have a tough time coping. I want to fix it. I want to express it. I want equality.

My father always said I was a "do it" person. I am that, and I thank him for this gene he passed onto me. On most days, this is a good thing. Stuff gets done. But, what I've learned this week (again, because I'm sure this lesson has hit me over the head a thousand times before ) is that sometimes my feelings can shut down others feelings because they swamp them. I have enough gumption to express it for a whole ball team if needed. But, sometimes that doesn't help them, nor does it help me. If and when I tackle life that way, I am more often than not shut out, shunned, not believed.

An example on a smaller scale, I could feel it in a team meeting the other day when I was describing a particularly meaningful interaction I had with a client. I could see that some were with me as I thought i was carefully choosing my words and actually keeping my feelings in line. But, there were others who shut down and dismissed me because they think I'm some Pollyanna airhead who doesn't see reality. Little do they know, not only do I see reality, I feel it in my bones too!

Feeling people are unpredictable people. Out of control feeling people (when affirmation or recognition doesn't happen for a long time.....or when life seems too damn chaotic and unreliable) are caustic. Rachetting it up a notch NEVER helps.

So, lesson learned.....everyone has to have the chance to express their own stuff, that many are not comfortable AND WILL NEVER BE comfortable with big emotions..... and that it would be best to learn how to speak Portugese with an Italian accent rather than talk louder. Interestingly, I've always had a thing for the passion of the romantics. BELLA!

Saturday, April 18, 2009

happy glowing faces

From a tiny seed planted in the spring, they begin their ascent from the soil. Gathering strength in their numbers, they continue to rise....their stems become stalks.....their potential unlimited. With the support of their environment, they thrive. It makes me wonder if their ultimate goal is to touch the tip of the sky? As they absorb the best of the summer sun, we wait in anticipation for the grand display of their happy glowing faces to delight our gardens. Have you ever noticed how they seem to point their faces towards the warm rays like they are anticipating a kiss?






Sunflowers offer us a glimpse of our own cycle of life.
Seeds are sown, seeds are grown.....
Through our nuturing of one another and absorbing the best of the summer sun, we also have the potential to reach up to touch the tip of the sky....receiving kisses along the way.


I took these photos last summer in my friend Jen's garden. Her home is one of my favourite places to take pictures because there is a feeling of smiling creative energy in the air and it just seeps under my skin. Jen always lets me wander around her property, usually with 3 or 4 dogs in tow and a few hens keeping an eye on us. I think she knows how much it helps me alleviate any built up stress and tension of the work week..... My wanderings allow me to take in deep breaths of fresh air and to let out the weary ones.

This weeks theme at Carmi's place is "floral..." Thank you Carmi. It was great to revisit last summer. It filled me with the anticipation of all that is good of our short summer months, and revved up my desire to get back out in the garden again.