Sir Paul

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise,

Where to begin?

Halifax was definitely blessed on Saturday with the most beautiful sunny summer day and the most amazing concert I have ever attended....(though I haven't seen U2 or Springsteen yet, so this may be a benchmark I intend to step over one of these days). However, I have attended many concerts in my young life and by far Paul McCartney blew them away and left me gobsmacked. Heaven knows I wasn't alone, but like everyone else who attended, I was into my own trippy nostaligic thoughts that seemed to unravel like a bunch of colourful ribbons floating right out of me into the night breeze.

As soon as Sir Paul began to sing, I was transported into places in my memory which held all those ribbons of happiness. Though I was expecting to feel a sense of glee, I don't think I was prepared for the deeper ties I felt to the music and to Paul McCartney's voice. He sounded exactly how he did long ago when I listened to he and the Beatles on a scratching tape deck recording in the old craft shop at Camp. For some reason, I didn't think that would be. I thought he would sound like an older version of himself.....kind of like how Sinatra's voice altered as he aged. He didn't! He sounded like Paul before the whole Knighting thing.!

Not only that, the man ROCKED it out for almost three hours and played several different stringed instruments, and the piano. Bass, electric, acoustic, mandolin...even the ukelele he was given as a gift from some guy named George Harrison which he started the song "Something...." after he told a wonderful story about his collaboration and friendship with George. There he was strumming the uke and singing all by himself to an oh so familiar and much loved song, with the background screen showing a montage of old photos of the two of them. Then, the song went into full orchestration and continued with a little help from his band.

Every single song was memorable. 36 in all....in one evening......every single song pulled up memories, some more predominantly touching than others. There were several "pinch me" moments. All you had to do was look around at the crowd of people to see just how perfectly happy they were to be there witnessing and listening.....to be caught up in the throngs of people who were generating their own warm nostalgia and letting it freely catch the breezes above the crowds was quite simply....magical.

I loved seeing so many people in their 50's and 60's there together as couples, arms wrapped around one another swaying and remembering....love is all you need....

I loved seeing the younger folks, many with long hair and head bands....the strings hanging down in the back. Tie dye t-shirts blended in with tank tops and mini skirts. Oversized t-shirts and baggy bottom jeans..... it was a collage of fashion spanning 40 years.

I loved seeing the parents with their younger children, coming together to experience a moment.

I loved seeing the old fart druggie types who seemed to be on the wrong end of a cigarette butt....all scraggy with scruffy unshaved faces and a bit toasted from one or two or three too many parties. They were transported back to better days....

I loved watching the interactions between the seasoned concert goers and the uncomfortable suburban types who have never been to a full on outdoor rock concert before let alone interacted much with this type of crowd. They soon fell into the magic of sharing a moment with strangers who all seem like friends...

But mostly, I loved watching my son take it ALL in!

Every time there was a whiff of marijuana in the air, which surprisingly wasn't as often as I had anticipated, he'd look at me in wonder! Too funny. And when one of the men who was part of a rowdy happy group next to us came over an in full inebriation put his arms around me like we were the best of friends and wanted to chat about his excitement over being there.....? WELL! I just laughed, and agreed. He then told Max how great it was to see someone his daughter's age at the concert just as excited as he was to be there.

My son's reaction to this display? "Mom, you attract the strangest people!" hahaha! I take that as a compliment.... and it's true. It certainly happens to me often!

Since we ended up somehow being one of the first thousand or so let onto the grounds, and therefore made our way to the front area with no problems, we had lots of time to observe and to take all of it in..... And we both did.

There were many memorable moments, but the one which fills me with something akin to gratitude and grace happened during the first few notes of Blackbird. It was when I realized just where I was standing....unbelievable to hear a song which has always always touched me in a place very few songs reach. I can't really find the words to describe that place. There is a holiness feel to it, like a pluck of perfection....like a harmonious blend of what makes up who I am.... the very foundation of who I have become from living, experiencing, sensing and feeling. Blackbird is one of those songs that rings that tiny bell.

Needless to say, I was awash in memories, mostly of the summer camp I attended and worked at so many years ago, but remain fresh in my heart. So often that song was played in the craft shop where I worked with a friend who loved the Beatles..... We'd have it playing in the background as we helped the campers create.....

Tears came bursting out of me before I could stop them.... I felt flushed and so darn happy to be there with my son experiencing such an amazing day..... Max took notice right away his Momma was kind of stunned by it all and he spontaneously put his arms around me and hugged me with such love. He held me and I held him as we sang the words together.... and listened to Sir Paul sing it as fresh as he did so long ago.

And when the first notes were played on the piano for Let it Be? I looked over at my 11 year old son and saw the emotions rush through him. He was very surprised by the flooding feeling! But, I was simply grateful to happily hold him and sway to the sounds of a song which seems to have the formula to last beyond lifetimes....

And when the night is cloudy,
there is still a light, that shines on me,
shine until tomorrow, let it be.
I wake up to the sound of music,
Mother Mary comes to me,
speaking words of wisdom, let it be.

Brilliantly gobsmacked! We will never forget this day.
Love is all you need......and it was felt in abundance.

Taking it on....

Sometimes life pushes you beyond your means to a decision where you are standing around wondering....should I or shouldn't I? Should I push the financial envelope and go for it? Often it's at a time when selfish pleasures run roughshod with rationality and we find ourselves in a place where we question whether it's worth the indulgence or not. Most times, we back off and don't take the bait. But sometimes.......sometimes..... we snap hold of the bait and go for it.

A while ago.... I came home from work. My son, who is a music lover just like the rest of us was downstairs home on his own. When I called down to him and asked him what he was doing, he replied.... "I'm downloading Beatles music onto my I-Pod." I smiled. Good on him, I thought. My little guy had found a treasure trove of oldies. Two days later, it was announced that Paul McCartney was going to play his only Canadian gig in Halifax Nova Scotia....a good 5 hour drive from here. When the news filter quickly to Max, he was star strucked STUNNED! By then, he had listened and fell in love with the music. The pressure was on...."can we go....please...can we go??"

I hemmed and hawed.... too indulgent, I thought at first. WAY too pricey! However, I was also very excited at the prospect of seeing McCartney live and the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to share this moment with my son. It seemed right....it seemed doable. We would figure it out. Why? Because sometimes you have to seek out the indulgent moments because so often they are the moments which take meaningful memories.

So, guess where I am headed today? Just me and my boy?? We are indulging in all things McCartney.

Indulgence....can be an overboard expense.... but my God, there are times when it is priceless. This one is most definately one of those times.

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this week's Sunday Scribblings prompt is "indulgence...." Gotta love that! For more takes on the prompt check out their blog.

what you want to see....

Distance as a concept is paradoxical. It can provide perspective, gleaned in a step back to take in the bigger picture. Or it can leave you in the realm of nostalgia where reality blends into the lines of wistfulness. Looking forward, beyond the horizon, a distant vision can seem so clearly delineanated or it can appear to be awashed in static movement.

It depends on your mood. It depends on what you yearn for. Pull yourself out of an entanglement of emotional thoughts and the lens you are seeing through will alter. Gather more information, or learn something new and one glance into the distance seems like a completely different canvas.

Why? Because what you see, near or far is what you are, not what it is. It solely depends on you.

I took this picture of the sun setting through the globe of a wine glass. I loved the feel to the soften blur of colour, similar to impressionism, which to me is like looking at reality through a magic mirror. The roundness of the glass pulled the distant sunset into its orb, settling it into the white wine like an island from place called far far away.

So, where was i when I took this picture? I was sitting on a friend's back deck high up off the ground, surrounded by friends whom I had just shared a fantastic meal with. While the conversation flowed all around me, I sat quietly watching the sun go down over the pine, listening to the various exchanges happening in a humglow of friendship. Content to be silent.....

I put my wine glass down on the railing of the deck and leaned over to pick up my camera to take a few shots. When I straightened up, eye level to my wine glass, I was caught by the Monet blend of colour and light caught in the round. What did I see? I saw the comfort and humglow of friendship. Exactly where I was.

What do I see now? A very clear memory of the same. Distance....be it visually or in our projection of time is a state of mind. Sometimes one photo can contain a whole story distantly placed in "a remember when," brought nearer to one's head and heart with a nod and a blink.

Now tell me.....what do you see???

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this week's photo theme is distant. For more wonderfully interesting photos, please visit Carmi's blog and check out his talents.

morning has broken....

I didn't realize just how deprived I've felt without the colour blink from the sunrise. For three whole weeks, it was lost behind a hedge of rainclouds. Night would turn into day void of the glory peaking over the horizon. It simply happened like it was on monochromatic autopilot. A string of grey days accumulated, psychologically pushing down on our energy, dashing my hopes that the July summer heat and winds would never be felt ever ever again! The omnipresent humidity made everything feel swampy.

When you live in a country where sometimes the only thought that can get you to leave your home in the dead of winter on a morning when the icy daybreak hasn't even been contemplated by the universe is the heat of a summer day striking you like a restorative kiss, you feel so ripped off when the sun doesn't shine for long stretches.

Those days in January and February when you have to bundle up in layers of clothing....scarves wrapped around your neck and face to protect you from the automatic freeze...hats pulled down to your eyes....fur lined mittens and boots (oh, the thought just makes me feel heavy all over again), we Canadians think tropical thoughts. Beaches, sunrises....simple moments of sitting outside in the morning with a cup of coffee all pull us through the darkness. They are like flickering candles to walk towards.

This morning, I woke very very early. I'm still adjusting to returning to work routine hours, so my sleep schedule is messed up. The birds, which begin their symphonic wake up call at the point of transition from night to day seemed to be louder this morning. More joyful too. Or maybe it was my imagination. I'm grateful to them however. Because what I was offered was a gift of sunlight. THANK GOD!

With a hot cup of tea in hand.....and my camera close by, I watched the sun push the cloud lid up into the sky. Slowly at first, it crept up in a liminal swash of orange, with hue dapplings of reds and pinks on the underbelly of the clouds. Then, before you knew it, up popped the sun. For a moment, it balanced on the treetops across the river like the bouncing ball that used to dance above the lyrics of a song in a cartoon. The tune.........brought to you by some cheeky little chickdees, a few laconic bluejays and the bright yellow flitting of a family of finches.

Let the day begin..... the sun has finally returned. Just in time before we all lost our minds! And let me tell you. There's nothing more frightening than a bunch of "nice" Canadians deprived of Vitamin D. It's worse than confronting a grizzly after hibernation.

circles

Two people meet for the first time and for some reason there is a clashing feeling all around them. A bad vibe. A negative first impression. It happens in the split second that they are introduced. Strange skin ripplings. What's it all about?

It could be that one of them isn't interested in meeting someone. He has too much on his mind absorbing him inward? He's too busy stressing over his own life to bring someone new into his invisible circle....past the boundary wall he has emotionally built around him? Or maybe his boundary walls are thicker and wider than most? He's not confident meeting new people. It's hard to say. What is perfectly clear is the outward message....he isn't going to be curious enough to offer up a handshake.

The other person feels this energy. She can read the serious disinterest on this new face in front of her. There is a distant gleam in his pupils during the ONLY eye contact he gives. Smiles are not forthcoming. He mumbles out a hello. The message is loud and clear, though its difficult for this other person to step away from the inaccessible human being without wondering if he is reacting to her own demeanour. Maybe she comes on too strong? Maybe she looks like someone he dislikes? It takes a bit of an adjustment to realize that there is nothing she has done to warrant the cold shoulder behaviour. So, she turns away with even more curiosity about him than she had in the first place. She will wait for a more suitable opportunity. Or not.

Human being crossroads happen on an emotional level .... the dance of people circles.

Sometimes they clash right away like a flesh burning chemical spill.

Sometimes it only takes a different scenario to find a connection.

Sometimes they spin in their own unique energy but touch lightly and bounce delightfully off one another as a means of recognizing difference and commonalities. It may be that the relationship between the two circles remains at this kind of connection. Social, cordial, but mostly at a distance. Weather chats.....surface dwellers.....acquaintances. Until, perhaps another time. Or not.

Or.... it may be that this is just the beginning of a friendship. Testing the waters before one of them takes the risk of providing an opening into their own circle? If the other person accepts the invitation, the spinning changes its axis. Connections between two people always alter another person's circle spinning.

Sometimes, they merge into a sense of oneness.....two circles spinning in endless energy. Have you ever been in one of those relationships? YOU almost never, ever feel like you've finished a conversation because there's more and more to cover!

What happens if two people clash constantly? There's been bad blood spilled between the two. Rumours have preceded their meeting. Incorrect information has been provided to one of the human beings thereby clouding their vision, sending up a boundary wall around their circle. What happens if there is no respect, no interest, NO desire to harmonize even though they are working under the same roof.... attending school in the same classroom .... working on the same team? They will remain stalled in an uncomfortable, perhaps even a miserable existance until a shift happens.

There has to be a way found to pluck the curiosity string in both parties. This is the beginning of connecting...of possibly restoring harmony. Curiosity almost always leads to empathy. If I'm curious, and the other person is curious....... communication opens up. I want to know. You want to know. Listening happens. Emotions are charged and expressed and changed. Beauty is revealed. Respect deepens. Movement can occur.

Most human being circles aren't simplistic one dimensional designs. They are intricate developing labyrinths formed by threads of life experiences woven into complicated patterns soaked in mystery. There is depth to the maze, filled with hurts and healings and life experiences which make the designs unique. What is the same are the hues of emotion. We all have the same feelings.

What makes two people shift from clashing circles into a place of interactive respect..... where the very idea of "how you are matters to how I am....." A chance to be comfortable being curious.

Sometimes this happens when sitting in a circle sharing the space. Is there a feeling of safety caught within a circle? Is this why they are so healing??

bloom where you land.....

What is resilience all about? Its about learning how to bloom where you land. New opportunities abound. They arent sitting just over the horizon. They are right there at the end of your nose, on the tip of your tongue, underneath your feet, in the air all around. Sometimes they hide under rocks, but there's always a trail of crumbs to follow.......

Resilience..... such a gift from living taking risks. From falling and getting back up. From recognizing you may have learned a thing or two during the tumbles that just may come in handy with the new pursuit. In fact, it makes me wonder........if every thing we wanted and everything we pursued came to frution, our lives would only be as wide as our untapped imaginations. We open to recognizing that the tree that has fallen across the path is simply a diversion....one that may open us to compassion and becoming more human in the process. I like that the word "human" begins with the same three letters as "humility..."

My bloom looks very different than it used to. Why? Because I hope i've allowed the lessons to fuel my own awareness, which in turn has fed my own beauty.

There's no line on the horizon today....... I'm stepping right into a new adventure. I will try to bloom where I land.

resilience....

Andy Roddick played the two best tennis games of his life and he ended up second. There he was with sweat dripping off his ballcap, trickling into his stinging eyes, focused on fulfilling his dream of being the Wimbledon champion, against a man who had already won 14 grand slam events. He played brilliantly! He was ON fire!! Then, the game went into overdrive...........breaking all records for the most games played in a match (77!!!), most games played (30!!!) in the 5th set. It went on and on and on. Federer never broke Roddick's serve, until the very last game. BRUTAL!

In sports terms, he lost. His personal dream goes unfulfilled. HOW much closer can one get to blasting open the joy of standing on top of a dream????

I read this week that Roddick had made huge changes in his preparation and practise which led up to this final day of tennis. All as his very best attempt to fulfill his dream. He hired a new coach. He toned up and dropped 15 pounds. He worked HARD.....unrelenting practising I'm sure. He mixed up his routine, made shifts in his approach as a means to go for the covetted gold cup with gusto. I was excited for him and quietly paid attention to his progress all week. I do like an underdog and as much as he's a brilliant tennis player, I guess I've always seen him as a bit of an underdog.

Near the middle of the 5th set, I started wondering about how much more difficult it would be to "comeback" emotionally from a defeat for Roddick than if Federer lost. I'm sure they both have the same dream appetite........to win. You don't get that far on a whim and physical talent. You've got to have a drive and a thirst. You've got to have focus and hunger. You've got to have the whole meal deal to succeed at elite sport. But, I couldn't help but feel that if Roddick lost the match, he would be torn up much more than if Federer had lost. The guy had already won 5 times on that centre court.

It was painful to watch someone miss by a shot ........ Roddick sat stunned, exhausted, and devastated on his chair as I'm sure he tried to gather up his thoughts before he stood to receive his silver platter. He held back his emotion, trying his best to maintain his composure, which only cracked just a little.....a couple of breaths that choked....his eyes turned red and misty..... just for a moment. He then gave a little speech.... even found his humour. Who knows what pain he feels tonight as he tries to find the silver lining in his silver platter. Are there echos in his head that blurt out negative thoughts of failure? Is he replaying the game in his head. More than likely. Behind a closed door, this man with a big whopping dream is hopefully letting it all out.

We have all experienced dreams which have gone awry. We've all been forced into a pit of disappointment. Or not. Disappointment only happens if you allow yourself to dream. Success and fufillment only happens if you allow yourself to dream. Some folks don't have the guts to. They don't want to risk feeling the negative feelings associated with disappointment, so they also miss out on the exuberance when dreams are met. Sometimes when you've hit a wall and realize that your dream isn't what it was cracked up to be..... that what you wanted was not attainable or maybe even realistic, you can register this, mourn the passing of a good dream and move on.

But do old dreams just disappear? Do they float off into the ether leaving you discombobulated and empty? It truly depends on one's state of mind.....on how you look at the experience.

Broken dreams? They are learning tools. They are reflectors. Not only that.....they are our stepping stones. They may even make up the consistency of the silver background of a mirror.

I've met many people whose dreams have gone horribly awry. Some were because of bad choices, but most of the time it was beyond their own control. Other forces come into play that they simply had no control over. They somehow found themselves sitting across the desk from me in the welfare office trying to come to terms with their situation.....with their failures.... with ALL they have had to cope with.

For many, there is a domino effect. A traumatic life event or two or three send them spiralling into an abyss they have a tough time pulling out of. Depression kicks in.... and clear headed thinking disappears. Several choices, mostly made as a means to try to survive and clear out of the dive bomb they are in, tank miserably. It can go on for years, generations even. I have learned that being on Welfare is the least of their worries. There is a grander, more deeply felt story or two to process that is way more important. Quite often, this is where I meet them.....at the point when the stories are ready to be shared.

These same people have taught me something else. They have taught me how to be strong and how to be resilient.

99% of the time, the human being across the desk from me brings with them humour, hope and a spirit of survival that feeds their resiliency. They may have fallen down many many times. They may have faced violence, abuse, illness in their family.....have lost jobs, can't read, grew up in poverty, been to jail and may still be wrestling with addictions. But, my God they are resilient dreamers! They have the desire to get back up and to try again. It is very rare that I encountered someone who had completely given up. Sure, there are some who have no clear direction or havent come to a place yet where a new dream hasn't been conjured up. But after a couple of conversations... of sharing and regaining trust in themselves their resiliency shines through loud and clear.

Sports plays a big role in many of our lives and I believe we become spectators because of the drama which unfolds between our team and the other team. We learn so much from watching and being involved..... so much about dreaming, resiliency....of how to react and respond when our dreams are fullfilled AND when they go terribly awry.

We soak in the play, and vicariously emote through our favourite players. We love the action, the strategy and the sweat inducing drive to play to win. If you've ever been on a team or played an individual sport, you know the adrenaline rush it is to give it all you've got and leave your best on the field. You have felt what it's like to win and how it feels to lose a close match. Though its hard to lose. No one likes to lose in life or in a game. But, if you're in there to PLAY? If you're in the middle of living with a bunch of dreams you want to scrimmage for? When you lose, you end up more determined to return to try again. Maybe with a new approach. Maybe with a whole different kind of dream. But, the motivation sometimes when you lose is even greater than if you've never tasted defeat before.

Just like life......sometimes you learn more from defeat and how you handle life tyrannies than when things are smooth sailing.........

Andy Roddick? He's tasted a big gulp of defeat today and may he wallow in it for awhile. The guy has earned it. If his dream of winning Wimbledon is as strong as he projects? His resilience was just fed a hearty meal. He will be back next year to give it a go again and may he make it to the finals to play the next best match of his life. I'll be cheering him on.

what is it all about?

Another Canadian soldier died today from a homemade bomb of hatred. A married father of three daughters. A man who was an elite human soldier from the Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry..... Corporal Nicholas Bulger. They played an interview with him on Canada Day and he spoke of how different it was to be in Afghanistan because he sees how much of a difference our Armed Forces are making. He stated that he saw it when he watched the children play freely when they once weren't able to. "When you look into the eyes of the children, you get a different perspective...." he said. A different perspective.... we could all use a bit of that kind of insight.

I think he saw human universality. He could relate to those children because it connected him to what he knows and sees here, on his home turf of Canada. It was obvious that it touched his heart with inspirational motivation, and in turn it touched me. I connected to this soldier because I was able to see and hear him ..... I heard his emotions .... heard his human-ness. And because I connected from my heart, I am saddened by his passing at a deeper level. I understand what he meant.

One Canadian man died today. 5 other soldiers were injured from the same blast. They were all members of Brigadeer General Jonathan Vance's technical team who toured sites with him, protecting him, reacting to any threats, responding to violence. Every death of a soldier is sad no matter what side of the trench he/she is on. Every death of an innocent victim is sad. Every death from the suffering of conflict is sad.

Violence prevails on every corner of our planet in some capacity or another. It's been there from the beginning of man, which makes me acknowledge to myself that we all have the potential to be violent. Even if I choose not to be, I still have it in me. Everyone does. So, what is it in a person to allow the violence to surface? What lies underneath the ACT? What is it that feeds hate which in turn flames a war? The only thing I can think of is a festering fear.....a fear so intense and so unresolved that it ferments in its own seething irrationality.

What do you fear the most? What are you most frightened of? It's good to know. It's important to consider what it is you fear and why...... AND how it impacts your choices and how you see others, both in your own neighbourhood and beyond. You can't work on those fears if you won't even begin to take a look at them. And they will fester....and they DO impact your choices and your lens. No one is exempt from this.....

I have been haunted by the photo Paul posted on his blog this week.....a man holding a mortally wounded child in blood stained clothes, his body contorted in death... his innocent face striped in his own blood. Maybe before this boy was injured, he was able to somehow get lost in some form of play? Even under those circumstances? I don't know.

The man is carrying this young one (his son? his neighbour's son? his nephew? a stranger to him?) along the drydirt path beside the wall that keeps them in and away from basic necessities, in the line of fire. Violence prevails. It prevails on both sides of the wall only the humans within the cement fortification have no choice but to attempt to survive as prisoners, as sitting targets of violence. Innocents suffer. There are no words.

What fear feeds this hatred? What anguish sucks the marrow out of love? Frightened of the other? Is that it? War and violence stem from our incessant fear of someone who is different? Different religion, different culture, different way of interacting in this world?

I read a story Jean Vanier conveyed about a Jewish woman named Etty Hillesum who died in Auschwitz at the age of 29. In her journal after she had been yelled at by a Gestapo officer, she wrote: "I felt no indignation, rather a real compassion and would like to ask: 'Did you have a very unhappy childhood, has your girlfriend let you down?'"

There she was in a place of living Hell, but she had an abiding belief that each person is a "house" where God resides. She believed that every single person had the potential to carry the mystery of God within the essence of being able to love and to be loved. Through that lens, she saw the beauty in every individual. Etty Hillesum, Vanier wrote, is one of the people who has influenced him the most. I bet Etty projected a calm sense of kindness and compassion as her approach to combatting the hatred fueled in the hearts of the Gestapo who ruled Auschwitz. Through believing in compassion.......one always feels forgiveness.....

I wish we could teach this. I wish we could believe in the power of compassion and kindness....of empathy. I wish we could live by the belief that all human beings are loved and can love. If we have the propensity to be violent, than we all have the propensity to be loving. Right?

We could erradicate the fermentation of irrational fears and turn it into wine instead. Wine to sip and share...... If we really want to. We have to start at looking at our own fears....! Then the very idea of making a bomb wouldn't even be considered. Then maybe walls would come down and little boys could play within the safe haven of their peaceful neighbourhoods. Then we wouldn't continue to mourn the loss of human beings struck down by the violence of wars. But how? How do we turn this world around so that people stop spitting venom and hatred at one another? I think it begins by looking into the eyes of the other. Just like Corporal Nicholas Bulger did with the Afghanistan children. It changed his perspective.
It can change our own. When was the last time you truly looked into the eyes of another human being? It may make all the difference.

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This week's prompt at Sunday Scribblings is "human." To see more contributions, check out their blog.

enveloped in the fog.....

It's been three weeks since I packed up my temporary office at "Employment Central" and turned it back into a storage room. 6 weeks before that, I said goodbye to a work family I had been a part of for 17 years after my job was unceremoniously chopped. I was deemed "unessential," in the eyes of the suits sitting in a boardroom; the number crunching fear mongerers who wouldn't see a homeless person if they tripped over them. Unessential too, I guess. We all have our priorities. No matter how you slice it.....on a community level or on a global one, we humans seem to fall into the orbit of hierarchy. I wonder why. Why do we feel this compulsion to create a "top/down" way of being where some float to the top while others are pushed down into the depths of barely surviving and where did this thought of mine come from? Good God, I was planning to write a happy piece!

I have much on my mind...... a mind that feels like it's been in fog storage for three weeks. My intentions were to clear away the collected cobwebs to prepare for my next career gig which starts up...REVS up on Monday. Not that I had huge unrealistic plans as to how I was going to use my time off, but it did included at least THINKING about a couple of projects on the horizon. I was also going to finally "pull" out the vestiges of some of my pieces of bloggie prose which seemed to court "potential" after a little airing and editing. I was going to go to the beach.....maybe a walk or two..... I was going to arrange to meet a few friends for lunch.... maybe a day trip with my son. Play a few card games. Decide what colour I wanted to paint the living room. Nothing Nobel prize winning, but cobweb clearing and fun. IN.THE.SUN. Not in the fog.

Not that I was completely cocooned.....I did take part in a few events and had some fun. It all just seems like I'm viewing it through an echo. And the weather didn't cooperate one iota. In fact, as I write this, a new rumbling of thunder rolls into the Saint John River Valley in all its incessant doom and gloom. We have had more rain and cloudy days in a row than I can ever remember!

My parents came for a visit and I do recall we had a big lobster feast while they were here with a few friends and I was the chef. I think everyone enjoyed themselves. I do recall hosting an impromptu Bar BQ with a bunch of girlfriends and their daughters to celebrate and toast two of our little ones who are going to high school next year. Oh, and I think I sat at an outside pub patio and quaffed a beer with my girlfriends before one of them took off with her family for their extensive trip to Europe. I recall spending an evening cloistered in the room downstairs going through old photos and paperworn letters I hadn't looked at in years. I think some really famous entertainer died. I read the paper, read a great book, putted A LOT, wrote some, slept when I could, watched my daughter pack and get ready for camp. Heck, I even sat in the passenger seat of the van and went for a few rides. Gee, I even think I drove a few times....... now that's a scary thought.

All done in a fog. Today? 3 weeks after I left my storage room office? I'm coming out of the tunnel. Somewhere in the thick of it all, my new/old colleagues took me out for lunch which was so thoughtful and kind of them....I had only been a part of their team for 6 weeks and it touched me deeply that they cared enough to celebrate my "moving on...." We congregated at a friend's restaurant/pub downtown, that much I know. But, I do not remember what was discussed or what I even ordered for lunch? NO! Not only couldn't I hear anything properly, I couldn't focus even when I tried.

I've been sick....my energy was stolen from me. I'd had minor surgery, a subsequent infection and then a cold from hell kicked in. I was a hacking, coughing phlemgy poor excuse for company on penicillin. I truly was in a fog. For over a week, I couldn't hear a damn thing except the sound of a cluster of whirring crickets in my ears! As much as I tried to go with it, knowing it was a temporary glitch in the bigger scheme of things, I couldn't help but wonder if this time off and how it unfolded was some kind of symbolic transition? It made me tired just trying to process it, and every time I tried to lay down, I'd fall into a fit of coughing. Still, the thought that I needed to get the last couple of years working in a very toxic environment out of my system and it was going to happen through my sinuses kept filtering through the fog. Or maybe it was just shit luck. Sometimes its best not to evaluate everything to death. I just can't help but recognize the timing of it all.......

What I do know is that I have a lot of my mind now. Good productive stuff is surfacing! Clear ideas, thoughts and feelings which go beyond that dreaded sense of guilt for feeling so crappy and not being available and present to my family and friends are streaming through my ass kicking brain again. I have much to do....that "to do" table is stacked up high now and in need of dusting before I can get to it. And every project....every single task on that table is interesting and challenging.

• Arranging a much anticipated trip to the Greenbelt Festival at the end of the summer.
• Planning out a night course on Crisis Counselling I'll be teaching at the University in the fall.
• Kick starting the planning of a month long Seminar Camp attended by 17 and 18 year olds from around the world who will be congregating close by my home in July 2010. I'm coordinating it and I'm SO pumped!

And front and centre? A brand spanking new job at the College running Counselling Services awaits Monday. In order to be up for the challenge, it required me to slip in and out of the fog to finally reach. Learning, stretching, cocooning, growing, hibernating, attempting, practising....... in and out of the fog, but most of the time under the clarity of day.

I get to build it from the ground up because they have never had a Counsellor on site before. I'm the first. :)

My toolbox is brimming. My enthusiasm is heightened. My ideas are bearing fruit. It's time to create. It's time to DO. My cold is almost a bad memory......I can hear again.....

Just in time......now where's the kleenex box?

home....

We are 142 years old today.

Every year there seems to be more and more Canadian patriotic paraphenalia out there in consumer land for our purchasing pleasure most of which makes me laugh...especially the Moose motif stuff. Gotta love our gangly Moose.

My son and I were in the local dollar store the other day to stock up on a few of these items so he can take them to Costa Rica when he attends a CISV village in late December and use them as traders with the other kids who will be there from around the world. We stood in front of the HUGE display which ranged from hilarious hats shaped like leaves to dancing beavers, maple leaf key chains, tatoos, frisbees, squishy footballs, stuffed moose, neck ties (FOR A BUCK!) and were in fits of laughter over the tackiness of the lot. Of course, we were determined to grab the best kitsch we could. Let's hope he's allowed through customs with that Canuck craziness in his suitcase.

When I was a kid, the annual fireworks were lit on Victoria Day in May. This was the tradition. We all saw it as the beginning of summer.....the first long weekend. Of course as members of the Commonwealth, we all understood the seriousness of celebrating Queen Victoria's birthday in style.....er, I guess...... by blowing off little checker firecrackers and running around with abandon holding onto a sparkler, also known as a piece of wire on fire.

Though we still have the long weekend in May, and the Monday of it is still recognized as her birthday (funny how it changes dates every year). But, somewhere along the line, our country's fireworks celebration moved to July 1rst, Dominion Day.....the day we recognize as the anniversary of our national status within the Commonwealth. Maybe we switched because it was easier to make a cake in the form of a maple leaf flag than the head of a sexually inhibited sourpuss? Or maybe we began to embrace our own sense of pride, separate from another country?

Obviously it wasn't an overnight thing.....one day we scoured at any display of patriotism and the next day we adorned our homes in all things red and white? No. It was a gradual, albeit swift turn around. Even now, I would wager a bet that most Canadians feel an attachment to this vast and magnificent wilderness we call home more so when we cross its borders? But there is definately a different feel to our celebration of our "home and native land...." Hence, the desire to don a goofy leaf pointed hat, pull on a Moose motif t-shirt and go with the flow of our known sense of humour while sucking back a few pints and singing off key?

Did you know Canadians are a very funny lot? Absurdity is in our blood. Satire swims all around us. We crack each other up! And it turns out we do a pretty good job exporting our finest comedians. I think it has to do with choosing to remain on this freakingly cold tundra in February and go about our daily routines like it was just a little irritation to start your car when its -40 degrees and a wind chill? You gotta LAUGH! You gotta bundle up too or you will die!

Then of course there is a that wonderful myth created by the late Pierre Berton who stated that you know you're Canadian when you can make love in a canoe. Ask any Canadian if they've accomplished this feat and they will affirmatively reply, with a sly smile and a look in their eye that tells you..... wouldn't you like to know how this is done? Ah, its all in the balancing between the thwarts. Its in the melodic movement of the gunnels....its how you hold your paddle.... Is there any other country who defines their patriotism through such a lens? We crack each other up.

There are definately benchmark events which foisted us forward into a more contented place. It wasn't so long ago when our national past time was a collectively navel gaze..... where the cry of the "True north strong and free" wasn't an anthem we now sing loudly at sports event and instead was "Who are we? How are we different than our neighbours to the south? How do we define ourselves...." Such nervous nellie self absorption is finally disappearing. We have grown up a bit. We've won our fair share of international hockey tournaments. We gave the world Celine and Shania.

Dominion Day. In 1982, the same year the Canadian Constitution and Charter of Rights was signed, Dominion Day was renamed Canada Day. Hindsight makes me wonder if this was the turning point. Before this significant moment, maybe we were allowing someone else to make our beds? Whatever caused us to stop feeling so damn inferior and to care so much about that fact that the rest of the world doesn't really give a rat's ass about our identity, I'm glad. Why? Because what matters most is how we have come to terms about our own selves as multi cultural individuals who call this place home. The confidence felt is new to us. But it will be our growing confidence along with the accumulative stretch marks from eating the most recent national food concoction...."poutine...." (dont ask! it's gross! I'd rather smoke pine needles) that will allow us to shine on any international stage. Or not.

When I was 18 years old, I flew across the pond for the first time with a backpack on my back and a much searched for Canadian flag patch stitched on the outside of it. I had to look high and low for it. For one thing, there were no dollar stores around, and I didn't live in the middle of a tourist hotspot like Niagara Falls where touristy kitchy gift shops were at every corner. It was a different time. Patriotism was kept under wraps. Patriotism was frowned upon as a tacky display of emotional wanking best left to the flag waving country below the 49th parallel. But, I found one, and proudly sewed it onto my backpack. And I'm glad I did. Because every time someone saw that little flag, they would ask me questions about my home....my country, and I would have to think about how I would describe it's beauty, it's strength, it's people......its history.

Like many of my neighbours, we learned our patriotism....and our heart filled fondness for Canada by leaving it's borders and looking from a far. At age 18, I began to see just how lucky I was to proudly state that I am a Canadian. Though, it was said in a tentative whisper compared to my open flag waving loud anthem singing boldness of today. OH, who am I kidding?? I may be wearing my very best moose t-shirt today, and I will definately take part in some of the Canada Day celebrations this afternoon down on the beautiful Green along the Saint John River. Fireworks are in the plans after a big potluck at a friend's house. But, when it's time to sing O Canada? My boldness will quickly evaporate and my silly red pointed leaf hat will be lifted off my head. My heart will fill with gratitude.....and I will lose my way in the meaning of the words. I'm too much of a softie...... and our anthem always leaves me choked up and in tears much to the embarrassment of my family. It's a good thing they're used to it.

This place I call home......? I loveitloveitloveit.....

Happy Canada Day.....with a glowing heart from me

honesty.....

"Go where your best prayers take you."
Frederick Buechner

Sometimes the clouds get in the way. Sometimes they lift you up into them. Prayer is like that. It makes me wonder if our best prayers are the lifting ones when you strip away the wants and wishes. You know, the ones with the expectations you have of God "granting" that special wish or fulfilling a need? I'm thinking our best prayers happen when we go beyond that to speak from a place of truth. When we empty that overflowing cup of need by letting go of what we feel we deserve or what we feel is justified, which is always a place of entitled anger, it leaves us bereft of ego clutter. This is when we feel the most vulnerable and tired. Our physical and emotional strength is often depleted. And this is when we can feel a lifting UP into the clouds.

Oh, we struggle to remain there don't we? We can be demanding controllers....fools really who allow the clouds to get in the way of recognizing the necessity to be REAL....to be truthful with ourselves and with God. John O'Donahue writes in his book, Beauty of "the slow work of integrating the flaw." I love this possibility...not the part that it takes a long time, but the part that its doable. He describes the beauty of reaching an abandoned place in your heart, numbed by neglect, and restoring it by accepting our own flaws unconditionally. There is a sense of reclamation, which in turn allows us to see ourselves as beauty becoming.

Our flaw is often the determination of holding onto a fancy facade painted in the colours of an illusionary rainbow in hues of cloud covered entitlement. We expect to be "saved" or "rescued" or "atoned" simply by praying. The problem is we pray from a place of want. "Please God....get me out of this mess!!! If you really exist God, you will grant my wishes!!" Does this ever work??

What if you.....

invite Him to your flaw restoration project.....
tell Him how you're feeling.....
put words to your deepest most frightening thoughts.....
All you have to lose is a whole lot of burdensome weight off your shoulders. And when the weight is lifted....so are you...into the clouds.

Go to where your best prayers take you? Methinks its up in the clouds.

just a thought.... I'll let you know what happens when i try it.....i've got some clutter to dispose of first.

off on an adventure.....transitions in the making

After spending the week hanging out with her close friends, saying good bye to some who were taking off to do amazing things for the summer, and attending a party in her honour because she too was about to embark on an amazing summer, my daughter arrived home exhausted and contented. She summed it up beautifully by saying ....."I'm in such a good place with all of my friends. I'm ready now." In order to be ready for this next big step in her life, Martha instinctively knew what she needed to do. I could see it in her face. I heard it in her voice. Her words spoke volumes. She was ready.

Half way through last week, I wondered if she was having second thoughts about spending the summer away from home at a children's camp in a counsellor in training program. But, I could see the frenzy in her actions to arrange her week around the important friends in her life.....to be there to say goodbye to them as they ventured off and to say goodbye for her own sake. And it worked. Yesterday, we packed the van with an enormous amount of "stuff," stopped at the Blue Canoe restaurant for a big scarf of a breakfast and dropped her off at her summer home away from home.....Camp.

We stayed for a short time.....got her settled a little bit in a big cabin she will be sharing with 8 other girls the same age, and then wandered around the grounds of the camp as she moved into the group of new staffers. There was an immediate sense of belonging, as many of them were campers together over the past couple of years. There was also a sense of unease....a bit of discomfort, wondering what to say, what to expect......how it would all unfold.....the new kids standing back from the core group because they are so much more tentative. I watched, standing off the to side where I wouldn't be seen, knowing the butterfly feelings strumming in the bellies intimately. Long ago, I had been there too. First day of camp has that effect.

The day before, my daughter and I had talked on and off as she packed. I tried to hold back on sharing my own memories, and I tried not to give too many "words of advice....." which I'm apt to do. She knows most of my camp stories...... is aware that I'm still in touch with several camp kindreds. So, I didn't feel the need to rehash my stuff. I was just so pleased and excited for her and could see that as much as I wanted this opportunity for Martha, I felt at ease that she had made this decision on her own....that this is something she wanted for herself and hadn't made the decision to be a camp counsellor to please me. I listened to the stories of her previous week .... the ones she wanted to share with me, and I could see a really happy beautiful girl standing in front of me whom I thoroughly enjoy spending time with.

What I did decide to offer to the conversation? How exciting and profound her friendships with her peers will become through all the sharing and "new" adventures. I also told her that there will be times when you know instinctively you have touched a child in a profound way and it feels terrific, but that there will be even more kids whom you will never know about. They won't tell you....or they won't even know it until later in life, but that something you've done.... a kind gesture, a slow down listening moment....a memorable moment sitting around a campfire....recognizing their homesickness when words aren't spoken. You just never know...... but the more you interact with others.... all ages, the more you learn about your own gifts and your own self and the more of an impact you will make in the lives of others. It goes hand in hand.

While I watched the new staffers interacting for the first time as a group, I also couldn't help but think of how far my daughter has moved away from holding on tight to me. Painfully shy and unsure as a little one, I literally had to carry her into the kindergarten class. She would pout every time I left her, even if her father and brother were around. To say it felt claustrophobic is an understatement. It was difficult and I didn't know how to deal with it most of the time. Her first couple of attempts at spending a week at a camp were disasters. In fact, i had to go get her halfway through one stint because she wasn't able to calm herself down at night to go to sleep.

Determined to overcome this, and the shy girl label hovering over her head, she quietly made a concerted effort once she hit middle school when she was 11 years old. She joined a leadership program, took to the stage, sought out new friends who had common interests and began to blossom. It wasn't until months after school had started that year, that she shared her "plan" with her Dad and I. By then, her confidence was lifting and it was of her own making. Every year since then, our daughter has shown her beautiful true colours to more than just her immediate family.

This transition towards more independence ...... one Martha has chosen herself and one she has worked really hard to be as prepared as one can be on the cusp of being 16...... is symbolic on so many levels. We see it and applaud. We are tremendously proud of her; of how she composes herself, of how she intuitively can "read" others, of how kind and considerate she is when she calls us to let us know where she is and what she's up to ...... knows no boundaries. No doubt there will be stumbles and tears. No doubt there will be major frustrations and heartbreak. No doubt there will be even bigger joyful transitions in Martha's life. Who knows what the future holds? We can't predict and we sure as heck can't control it. All we can do is stop and recognize life events as they come and savour them as they evolve. Yesterday, I stood and watched and savoured how much I love her.

As much as we are missing her and will continue to feel her absence so much this summer, we all know Martha is where she wants to be. And because of that, I can honestly state "I'm ready."

I think.....

secrets.....

I read this last night and sent it along to a couple of friends whom I've shared a few secrets with from time to time..... and whenever I have, they always reply.... "You are beautiful...." So, I share more..... :)

"I have come to believe that by and large the human family all has the same secrets, which are both very telling and very important to tell. They are telling in the sense that they tell what is perhaps the central paradox of our condition—that what we hunger for perhaps more than anything else is to be known in our full humanness, and yet that is often just what we also fear more than anything else.
It is important to tell at least from time to time the secret of who we truly and fully are—even if we tell it only to ourselves—because otherwise we run the risk of losing track of who we truly and fully are and little by little come to accept instead the highly edited version which we put forth in hope that the world will find it more acceptable than the real thing. It is important to tell our secrets too because it makes it easier that way to see where we have been in our lives and where we are going.
It also makes it easier for other people to tell us a secret or two of their own, and exchanges like that have a lot to do with what being a family is all about and what being human is all about."
Frederick Buechner.
_________________________

Wouldn't it be great if we all just let our guard down and spilled our real-ness knowing our vulnerability was completely recognized and accepted as the mirror of others? Wouldn't it be great that when we spill our real-ness, it precipitated a spilling response from others? Fear would be non-existant. A peaceful heart would be achieved. I'm thinking that this is where true unconditional love dwells....in the spilling of secrets and the non-judgemental acceptance of the truth.

And if by chance we cannot find open acceptance in a person whom we trust explicitly we always have the capacity to Twitter them to the Big Kahuna. I hear He likes to Tweet. :)

through the eyes of a new fan.....

Let me fill your heart with joy and laughter
Togetherness, well that's all I'm after
Whenever you need me, I'll be there
I'll be there to protect you,
with an unselfish love that respects you
Just call my name and I'll be there
The Jackson 5

Sometime during the winter, my 11 year old son began to discover the music of Michael Jackson. This is the same age I discovered him. Max was mesmerized by the dance moves and the music from the Thriller and Off the Wall albums, intrigued by the enormity of Jackson's success and full of questions about the weirdness of the man's lifestyle. He was in awe of Jackson's voice and his ability to move like he had the power to defy gravity. The style and swagger.....the energy and magic of the music which washed over this globe, created by a brilliantly talented human being was alive and well, captured for a new generation to discover. His music was uploaded onto an 11 year old's I-pod to savour.

Personally, I had stopped listening to the stories and bizarre activities surrounding Michael Jackson, had completely stepped away from even paying attention to him because of his behaviour and over the top weirdness. To me, it felt like a carnival freak show, created for the most part by an unrelenting fan base and a media which would never let go. The man/boy in the bubble choked on his extravagant success, turning himself into a distant recluse locked away from reality, surrounded by a hoard of handlers who treated him like an alien. It was like watching a slow motion train wreck that took 35 years to reach the point when we all watched him shuffle into a courtroom in his pyjama pants. Are there words to capture his demise? Sad? Pathetic? No, it was more mind boggling than words could convey.

My son hadn't heard all of the stories yet.......the ongoing accusations and acquittals the millions of dollars spent in "settlements," the flamboyant spending on everything from Elephant Man remains to renting the top floor of luxury hotels in Vegas, and the strange reclusive behaviour. Photos and videos however, revealed Jackson's transformation from a handsome young man with a gleam in his eye and a talent that knew no boundaries to a hideous looking shell of a human being whose hair draped a face that was otherwordly....whose sunglasses and veils hid him from light.

Like every single one of us, Max had many questions, most of which remain unanswered. What happened? Why did it happen? Who in their right mind would perform over 50 plastic surgeries on another human being who obviously was mentally ill and live with themself ? Who are these doctors who wrote numerous prescriptions for pain killers turning Jackson into a zombie like addict? Where the hell were his friends? Were they all living in their own pathetic fame filled bubbles that they didn't feel they could approach him, arrange for help.....?

My son and I talked occasionally about Michael Jackson.....I told him stories of how amazing the Jackson 5 were, how huge Jackson's albums were when they were first released....how at age 11 I was a huge fan! I tried to explain what I thought had happened to him in the ensuing years, but how do you explain to someone such mystery? Still, the music prevailed, and overshadowed the wacko jacko-ness of one very disturbed sick man. My son became a fan.

Last evening, Max came rushing upstairs.......his eyes popping out of his head and a look of shock on his face to inform me that the King of Pop had been rushed to the hospital and was in a coma. At first I didn't think it was serious. I figured maybe Jackson fainted or something from exhaustion prepping for his London concerts. It didn't surprise me....the most recent photos revealed a man who seemed to be a walking thin shell of himself, not the high energy consummate performer who always looked completely "in the zone" happy on stage. But, within minutes, the same media who helped turn Jackson into an untouchable were announcing his death. In the middle of what we all know will be an unstoppable barrage of stories, accolades, interpretations all stemming from the phoniness of Hollywood...... I heard a new 11 year old fan say....

"I think I will remember this day for the rest of my life." I believe he will. It is one of those moments when an event outside of your own realm interupts and leaves something indelible in one's memory. Like Elvis. Like Diana. Like RFK. Like JFK. Like Martin Luther King. All for different reasons.... but a stopping before and after recognition that you will remember where you were when you heard the news. For my son. For many I imagine.

Michael Jackson, the most famous entertainer in the world whose behaviour and secret life far outshines any head shaving meltdown Britney could throw into the tabloids..... the man whose arrested development shackled him to Neverland and a life of relating to Lost Boys.... was a true genius. Painfully, his orbiting success and his deep wounds left from abuse and never being able to know what normal is, ate at his soul and left him behind a veil. No doubt we will be living it and reading about it all.... hearing it dredged up on talk shows and news shows until we want to vomit.

Looking out across the morning
The city�'s heart begins to beat
Reaching out, I touch her shoulder
I'�m dreaming of the street .......

Can you imagine never having a chance to walk down a street all by yourself with a sense of smiling anonymity? Jackson's song Human Nature captures his desire to just be normal..... to walk on the street, to "take a bite of an apple....." So , so sad. For all of his success, Michael Jackson was the loneliest human being on the planet.

The eternal Lost Boy? May he rest in peace. May he find the freedom his life never offered him. Let his music transcend this craziness and sadness of his life and the predictable dissection of it after his death. Let his music be discovered through the eyes, ears and heart of a new fan for years to come.

Man in the Mirror.

He had such brilliance and talent but was imprisoned in a tragically wounded soul. His success was astounding. His demise was astounding. His death is a shock. His music lives on.

Perspective is a great teacher when you open your eyes.....

I do have one question burning in my brain.....what's gonna happen to Bubbles? Oh, and who did he leave the Elephant Man remains to? I'm sure CNN will eventually inform us. Hold onto your crotches friends, we're in for a long long summer.....

adversity.....

As darkness falls, a soft touch brush has left a roseblushing above the hills. A curtain of misty fog lifts up from the river. It's almost like there is too much water for it to hold that its turned into rising condensation. Perhaps its an offering to help cool the muggy heat leftover from an afternoon of cloudbreaking after torrents of rain. Firefly magic, merrily flit here and there leaving minute glowtickles in the still air. Stars begin to appear through the thin stretched clouds which continue to linger from the stormfront. Quiet hushes the birds who until recently were clambouring for orchestral attention.

They have gone to sleep.
As have the babies.....
As I will.......soon.

I take a deep breath......
I take in the beauty of a new night....
I listen to the tiny noises in the nature around me.
I let the night air breeze cool my skin as I gaze out at serenity.
I give thanks to the blessing of being able to live in a place that is safe and beautiful.
I send a prayer out to the human beings in Iran who are re-learning how to express their spirits and to grab hold of their future and their right to freedom. I hope that one day soon they can stand outside on the cusp of a summer night and have the chance to embrace serenity. May they know that all the world is watching....and that all the world is sending them prayers for peace.
May the clouds break freely...........and may the sun shine down on them.

Meet the Author of THE FEY: Claudia Hall Christian

Welcome friends! I'm so excited to announce that I'm the Canadian host of Claudia Hall Christian's Book Blog tour. Through the virtual magic of "blog-energy," our writing paths crisscrossed a while back and ever since we have been regular readers of each other's hijinks, heartspills and hilarity.

Personally, I was pulled into her dynamic and interactive blog knowing I had found a person who was actively working on a dream, using both her head and her heart. I liked what I read and I loved the sassy personality that is my Colorado blogfriend. Optimistic, respectfully opinionated, and kind, Claudia puts out unconditional positive energy. I love visiting her site, Out on a Limb with Claudia (link on my sidebar)

Recently, Claudia launched the publication of her novel, The Fey, a gripping thriller chalk full of espionage, fast paced twists and turns, and a whole lot of page blazing passion. In fact, the story brims with threads of expressive feelings which weave the characters together with loyalty for one another and a deep sense of loving respect, all revolving around the main character, Sargeant Alexandra Hargreaves, also known as The Fey.

It had been a while since I picked up and read fiction, though it used to be my number one love before I began writing again, and my reading of choice morphed into mostly non fiction to feed my own muse. So, I was looking forward to getting lost in a story that would transport me into another world. Claudia's talents did not let me down. In fact, I sat down, cracked open the book and for the rest of the day I was happily lost in the lives of Alex the Fey and her band of risk taking, large living, sexy spirited team of dedicated men who worked for the American military. I was hooked from page 1. Now how often can you say that about a novel? The Fey is a terrific read, comparable to all the great spy genre books. And I've read dozens of them! Claudia has hit this one out of the park!

So it is with great pleasure that I welcome Claudia here as she tours the blogworld promoting her book and sharing a little bit about herself and the writing process..... Claudia? Welcome to Fredericton, New Brunswick. Let's just jump right into the questions shall we?

Where did the story idea for Alex the Fey originate?

Boy, that’s a good question. I’m not quite sure. In a dream like state, Rebecca Hargreaves came and sat down on the edge of my bed. She came night after night for at least a week. I couldn’t eat or sleep until I started working on the first draft of The Fey.

Once your imagination kicked into gear, where did you go from there in planning out your novel and the characters you've beautifully brought to life?

I didn’t really plan out the novel. I simply worked to understand, and speak for, these characters. I wrote a lot – back story, front story, and lots of side stories. I wrote three entirely different versions of this story until I felt like I had the story right. My attempt is to be a clear scribe for my characters.

How much research was involved in the process?

I did a lot of research. Although I’ve known quite a few people in the military, I’ve never been in the military. There was a lot to catch up on. I’m also not Catholic, so I needed to uncover minor details which help make the story feel more real. And, while my family is originally from Northern Ireland, there was a lot that I needed to research there.
Gratefully, the Internet is a vast resource of people and information. I was lucky enough to be able to find almost everything I needed to know either through someone on the Internet or on various Internet sites.
Newsweek is another fabulous research tool. I have a subscription to the magazine. I clip out interesting articles then scan them so I’ll have them always. I’ve learned a lot from different Newsweek articles.

Who is your favourite secondary character and why?
It depends on the day. lol. They are each rich and interesting characters. I like different things about them. And, as the Alex the Fey series continues, we learn more about them.

As I finished the book, I was left with a desire to know more about Alex and her relationships with her team. I also wanted to know much more about the men she's related to. I could see how so many of your characters had the potential to be the lead in a storyline. Tell me a bit about where you will take us in your next installment.
Learning to Stand is the second in the Alex the Fey thriller series. The books begins in Paris where Alex and Raz begin to clean out the Fey team storage locker. In this book, Alex must start moving on from the events in her past. Of course, there’s lots of romance, rip roaring action, and laughter along the way.
The third installment, Who I Am is the most personal book of the Alex the Fey series. In this book, we get an inside view as each character must come face to face with himself or herself. We also have lots of laughs, adventure, and romance.
Learning to Stand is undergoing final edits for publication right now and Who I Am is in first draft form. There are eight books outlined, but I will continue writing the series as long as the characters have something to say.

Now, for your own personal Unconscious muttering....words related to The Fey :) (this is a Sunday regular word association post on Claudia's blog, Out on a Limb.....check it out and join in!)

courage :: to breathe
conflict :: ed
terrorist :: revolutionary?
secrets :: kill
queen bee :: lays 1500 eggs a day in the summer
Colorado :: is near the center of the United States

Paris :: my favorite city on the planet
suffering :: passes
intrigue :: fascination
passion :: to live, laugh and love

Here are a few "Vanity Fair Proust" questions for you Claudia, ready?

a) What is your idea of perfect happiness?
I think happiness comes from knowing and accepting yourself. Perfect happiness is when I know that nothing is personal and everyone goes through what I’m going through. With my ego out of the way, I can just live my life, to the best of my abilities, in the manner in which suits me.

b) What is your most treasured possession?

The people in my life that love me.

c) Which words or phrases do you most overuse?

Just <--sneaky little weed of a word.

Simply <-- overhyped, toxic word that means almost nothing


d) What is your greatest fear?
That I will get caught up in my own dream and miss my life.

e) What is your motto?

“Why not?”

f) Honey or maple syrup?
As you know, I am a beekeeper. I will let you in on a secret. I can’t eat a lot of sweet things. In fact, I can only eat a tiny bit of honey or maple syrup. I do love our home grown honey. It’s different every year depending on the weather. I’ve heard people say that about maple syrup, but I don’t use it enough to notice.

Thank you! That was fun! Friends? If you're looking for a summer book to take to the beach, or if you live in the southern hemisphere and are itching for a story you want to sink your teeth into on a dark cold evening under the duvet, The Fey is just the right choice. If you're looking for a fresh new novel for your bookclub, why not choose a good fast paced thriller? I wholeheartedly recommend The Fey, and personally look forward to the next in the series.

Claudia? You've done well!!! Congratulations!!

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