Charles Leblanc continues to shake, rattle and roll all over this province!

I call him "CrazyMan Blogger" because he's outrageous.  He calls me "The Irving Blogger" because its ironic. And, well, for a short stint, I published a blog on their media website thinking this was a good thing.  And, he's never let me forget it.  Like I had paid off the devil or something.  

When God made Charles, he threw away the mold.  Thank God he is in my life, this man who is who he is........ one of the most intelligent, politically astute, emotionally driven crazyman I have ever met.   He's the Jerry Lee Lewis of blogging!  Shake Rattle and Roll!

Most days, he checks on me through a chat pop up on facebook .......... Sometimes we swap quick opinions, juicy news, clips of stories, maybe even an email or two.  And every now and then, we have a chance to catch up live and in person.  But by then, so many stories, personal experiences, events have flowed under that darn Westmorland Street bridge that its almost impossible to get to a point in the conversation when there's nothing left to catch up on.  Our discussions have no ending......... it just continues where we left off after we've hugged and said our goodbyes. 

Charles Leblanc is a constant in my life.  A good friend. Someone who cares and someone I care about deeply.  It's a mutual respect thing........ but goes deeper than that.  I think we get one another.  Two misfits who see the world through similar eyes............ well, at least the political swirly world.   And the  man cracks me up!!!!   Sure we are very different.  Our upbringing couldn't be more opposite.  Even now from a surface perspective, our lives appear to be very different.  But, we have much in common that allows us to connect cognitvely, emotionally and spiritually at a comfort level that I don't share with many others.   We have shared the vulnerable stories that make up our spirits, as well as the piss and vinegar side of our selves.  How many people can you say that about in your life??

The majority of what we discuss never ever makes it to either one of our blogs. Blogger secrets!!!  I know he's shared stuff with me that will allow me to go to my grave laughing.  I have done the same!  I love it when I can share something with Charles he hasn't heard yet.  That is a feat in itself because the man is EVERYWHERE and knows the dirt on most people in this whole freaking province!

My God, the man is wired into the pulse of this place and it scares many! However, people knock on his apartment window night and day to find out the dirt, and to share some dirt.  Dirt swapping.  It's good journalism, because MOST of the dirt is news.  Sadly, this province's media is predominantly tied up with one family.  The Irvings.  Charles, "Crazyman Blogger" has a love/hate relationship with them that is healthy, wealthy (for them) and wise (for both).   He has the same relationships with paid journalists too.  They know where to go to seek out some facts.  Fiction too.  'Cause sometimes he has facts that go beyond the realm of what really happened.  This isn't a surprise given that so many people are in touch with him.   But, I got to say, the  majority of information Charles acquires is the honest to God truth.  

Some of it is heartbreaking.  Some of it is butt slapping hilarious.  A lot of it is eye popping.  Can I just say it's a breath of FRESH air to talk to someone who is the salt of the earth and who sees it in the others around him and writes about it?  He also sees the pontificating phonies too and they know it.  That's a threat eh?

So, why am I writing about my friend tonight?  Well, he's had a momentous week.  He spent 70 hours behind bars (without his medication btw!) for going TOO far with his megaphone antics in front of the Fredericton police station.  Drove everyone batty!  Created havoc in the boardrooms within listening distance.  Irritated the throngs of folks who work in the area barking out his mantra about being treated differently than others.  All over a ticket for riding his bike on the sidewalk.  They arrested him for disturbing the peace.   Hello?  He's been disturbing, shaking, challenging and rattling the peace all his life.  And good on him!  More people should be like Charles.  But then, he wouldn't be as unique, as effective if others were like him.  

Charles is one smart fella!  Never one to keep his opinions, nor his feelings on a matter to himself, he lives above the radar.  Can you imagine always living above the radar?  But, that's where he has chosen to remain.  What an advocate he is too!  Think about how many stories have been revealed by this man, many of which would never have made the light of day. 

 For the past couple of days, this "place of honour" has foisted him into the "first news item" time slot in the media.  Good God, he even usurped the Harvest Jazz and Blues headlines by becoming the top headline in the local Irving paper.   People are talking either about the headliners at Harvest OR about Monsieur Leblanc.  It's a hilarious combination.......... I heard both discussed at the Market today, and on the radio this week.   Ironic given that he normally skips town when the Harvest takes over his downtown.  You gotta laugh at that one Charles! 

As much as he was probably striving for this attention, it is still stressful. and I don't think he ever thought he'd end up in JAIL!    But, believe me there are more folks out there who admire and appreciate Charles' work as a journalist blogger than the folks who find his antics beyond the realm of acceptable. But,  he has a point too.  

His choice of driving everyone batty on the police station end of Queen Street in this anal retentive conservative city of stately elms may not be "acceptable" to the folks who have to sit in boardrooms in strategic planning sessions.  Loud speaker phones are comparable to screeching brakes on a transport going downhill.  But, because he has chosen to live above the radar actively documenting the political, personal, and community based events in this part of the world, Charles is now treated differently than others.  He's a marked man.  He's pissed people off.  He's created a power struggle and by doing so has exposed the hierarchical hypocrisy of our system.   

Who else gets a ticket for riding a bike on a sidewalk for God's sakes??  Unjust.  Simple. 

No, I am not seeing him through rose tinted glasses.  I see his real-ness because he has shown that to me.  I am well aware of his previous shit disturbing, most recently his over the top ADHD/OCD sandwich board messages during the last election.  He made the local MLA sitting member's life miserable!  And he lost too!   I probably would have been irritated if I had to work in the area while this madman was barking out his mantra over a speaker phone.  (who the hell gave him that piece of equipment anyways???)  However, I believe it could've been handled very differently than it was.   Like everyone on this planet...... Like Charles does himself for others......... he wanted to be listened to.  Why wasn't someone listening to him instead of simply dismissing his message as noise?   He HAS been treated differently than others. 

I call him "CrazyMan Blogger" because he's outrageous.  He calls me "The Irving Blogger" because its ironic.  More importantly, we call each other friends.   Will someone please listen to this human being?  Drop the charges and lets all move on before it becomes even more ridiculous than it already is! 

ps.......Charles?  Thank God for you.  Yes, you are a marked person and you've known it for a long time.  You've chosen a life of shaking, rattling and rolling.  But, that doesn't mean that anyone can treat you any differently than someone else.  You always have my support and I hope you will always know that.   The gift you gave me when I needed it the most?  I will never forget it.  Neither will dozens of others who have experienced the hurting side of life and found you by their side walking a  mile or two with them as they struggled to find their footing again.  You sir, will find your footing again.  Keep on walkin'!  Keep on talkin'!

prayers, pauses and gratitude.

lovely Lisa, Boyce Market, sept, 2011

I think this has been one of the most emotionally draining couple of days I've experienced in a long time.  Is there such a thing as an emotional perfect storm?  Yes, and I truly thought I was losing any semblance of internal order.  Waves crashed over the riptides in my soul and I simply couldn't get a grip on the steering.  Many hours were spent in horizontal meditation, aka my girl cave, as I tried to process the multi-sensory onslaught of encounters, events, activities, confessions, tragedies, and realities.   I think I scared the shit out of my friends and my kids.  I know I scared the shit out of me!

One of the more difficult lessons I keep plugging away at in an attempt to LEARN should be entitled "Balance and Limitations."  I used to be good at that, but finding these two teasers as a single Mom working full-time with a personal life that is full, "balance and limitations" ALONG with "bounding boundaries" keep slipping out of my hands...... leaving me bobbing in the rolling waves!!!  

I get these burst of energy, especially at this time of the year, and take on too much.  It used to be that I could juggle several projects/tasks etc at the same time, but I had the back up and support from a life partner to keep the home fires burning so to speak.  Now, I'm on my own to do both and let me tell you, my house wouldn't win any awards right now!  Hurricane Hazel seems to have blasted through the hallways and rooms!  Always stuff to do on that to do list....... and I lose energy by the end of a busy day/week to even attempt to get some order. 

Don't you find sometimes that internal order is help tremendously when the home surroundings are in order?  Routine can be a re-fueler.  A grounding.  A place to start.  Im a stumbling bumbler when it comes to maintaining a routine these days........ it'll happen.  Seasonal transitions shake it up a bit!

Aside from the necessary mundane tasks that have to be accomplished, as well as the nagging other "fixes" that must be attended to (can someone please fix my shower faucet?  the duct tape is looking pretty redneck) there are many homefront responsibilities that take a back seat when all the energy I have burst through during my day job.  this is what happened on the weekend.  Add the emotional highs and lows of counselling anyways, and the very real needs of my little brood at they adjust to big changes in their lives..... add the anxiety of paying bills etc, AND my emotional response to the anniversary of 9-11?  Well, a perfect storm hit my innards.  

Ok, hormones too!  Yeah, 50+ years old.  Hormones play a role!  I admit it.

I went quietly into the horizontal meditative position and let a day linger on by while I re-fueled on soft chanting music, and the breeze of the fan in my room.  I let the emotions visit, linger and then move on.  I remained as quiet as I could be in a self made cocoon.  In my head, as it cleared, this prayer was formed.  I had the honour to deliver it on Sunday......... the day of my birth.  And the 10 anniversary of September 11, 2001.   By the time I found myself comfortably standing at the pulpit of the church looking at the congregation which included my children and a few very special friends in my life, my stance was solid.  My focus was clear.  My heart was open.......... My pace was found.   

Prayer, pauses and gratitude.......  Here is the prayer I offered...........

 

sunrise from my back deck, Sept 8, 2011

Good morning God.

Thank you for this blessed beautiful morning in the Saint John River valley. Thank you for surrounding us with those seasonal signs of change that help us to recognize our own transformations and to realize we are never alone in this journey.

As we gather here before You with the renewed breath of Your Spirit, we give our heartfelt thanks for the bountiful gifts You provide with abundance every single day. Allow us to hear the encouraging words from a friend. Help us inhale the lingering aroma of summer breezes. Let us remember the people who have been touched so deeply by the events on September 11, 2001. Guide us to connect our hearts to their hearts and to our loved ones who live far away. God, help us look deeply into the eyes of another with the understanding we are all one at heart. 

We are all loved.

In our stillness, God, help us to remember how to take those steps towards accepting the changes in our lives knowing that sometimes you have to grieve a thousand times before you can inhale the refreshed scent of an old breeze. Help us to walk into the centre of our vulnerable holy space over and over again to touch upon the wound that weeps those trapped remembering tears so that the old stories of a loved one that were once too painful to recall can be told again with a merciful heart and a smile. 

Please help us remember that overwhelming feelings today will soften in the light of days to come.

As pilgrims dear God, guide us to share a story with another, to have that conversation that feels too difficult to start, to use the gift of our senses so that we can appreciate the freshness of this harvest season, to delight in the knowledge that we are unfinished human beings, beautiful works in progress, who know how to give and receive love and kindness with an open heart.

May we leave here today with a lighter fullness in our walk, refreshed breath of the Holy Spirit and the energy to pass our kindness onto to others. Thank you for Your presence in all that we do, say, think and feel.

Amen.

vestiges of summer.......

Creeping vines and weeping willows.

Even if I'm not on vacation, I find summer has an elastic sense of time and structure.  Routine takes a skinny dip. Glorious starry nights free up my thinking beyond known borders.  Shared car trips become the touchpoints of growth in my relationships.  Celebrations, concerts, bonfires, BarBQ's, reunions, campouts, late night laid back dinners on the back deck with a friend, risking my heart in the dating game, tempered by moments of quiet contemplation, or plain old loneliness and complicated misunderstandings as the signposts of life lived.  

What happened to canoeing?? I never got out in a canoe this summer!!! Where did the time go??

Summer has a pulse of its own that stretches afternoons into the lingering lament of twilight beauty.  Darn it!  I didn't capture much of it in writing. So, now I am left standing here at the counter in my kitchen pounding on my trusty little laptop keys overwhelmed  by the numerous vestiges that define my summertime with such colourful and visual acuity.  It feels like I've walked a thousand and one miles.  On the other hand, it feels like I havent moved an inch!  How can that be?  Internal growing pains take time to settle.    That's what winter is for!  A time to ruminate on the green fields of summertime blossoming.

Of course, I've journied on....... my life is more full by the connections and the new roads I have travelled.  Some with others.  Some on my own....one sandaled foot after another.  Healing continues as I gather new courage, clearer insights, confidance.  As I take time to melt into it.  From Grand Manan  New Brunswick  to the Gaspe pennisula in Quebec where I fell in love with the raw beauty of our Canadian landscape,  to Times Square NYC!!    Stops in Spencer's Island Nova Scotia where my heart still longs to belong to a wondrous weekend retreat just outside of St. Andrews where the fireflies flickered the ultimate freedom dance that left me with new insights. To my own backyard sipping wine and sharing secrets with a friend.  Big shifts!!!  Wow.  

One astounding night happened at the end of July.  While happily standing in a crowd of people, I opened my pores to  receive a multisensory assault to the body and soul.  U2 came to town.  I hope Bono didn't mind me belting out "I Still Havent Found What I'm Looking For......."  as tears flowed and caught in the throat of my vulnerable spirit.  My son and friends all around me..... all ages.  All ages......  spiritually enhanced.  Together.   I only wish that my daughter could've been there with us.  But, she was immersed in her own journey at camp learning big lessons....... stretching her talents into new awareness. 

Hurts too.  Sad eye days.  This summer has introduced new and re-introduced older painful thorns along with the blossoming roses.  Changes in people I love.  Sad changes in relationships.  Aging.  Relating.  Mismatches of thinking.  Poor communication.  Misfires. Bad timing.  New realities that are so hard to swallow.  To accept.  Someone whom I admire deeply said that much of life is griefwork because changes mean we must look at letting go of the losses before we can move forward.   It is so tiring sometimes.  Confusing too.   Tears may bring strength, but before that happens, the fatigue is bone weary awful. 

So, now it's Friday.  The end of the first week back to school.  Routine is mocking us!  The buzz word around here?  Overwhelming.  My son began high school.  My daughter is now at College.  Big transitions in seasons and in milestones.  Aside from my number one role as Mom,  my work week was spent orchestrating Orientation activities for 200 students and counselling on the fly............ at home, at work, at play.  

I never got away from it and I'm completely spent.  I feel such a tremendous need for someone significant to be kind and loving to me.  Unfortunately that isn't the case right now.  As much as this was an amazing week of connections and deeply shared confessions and feelings that has left me feeling abundantly satisfied, I am struggling with loneliness and heartache.  It sucks.  Will I always be on my own?  God knows.  He ain't sharing that with me!

The best we can hope for in this crazy life is to be kind to one another...... to take the time to at least try to understand where another is coming from in their journey..... to invite these pilgrims in to your home and heart, and to hope that there will always be another to share our life altering little moments that make up our summers of wonder and growth.  May we all find that passionate love someday soon.  And if you're someone who is sharing your bed with your soulmate, may you recognize just how blessed you are.

Here's to turning the next seasonal corner.......... AND getting a good night's sleep!!!  At least I won't have someone snoring or elbowing me in the ribs.

radical beauty

 Bonavista Island,  Perce Quebec

Our lives are comprised of opportunities to view both internally and externally moments of recognizing beauty.  The presence of radical beauty, however,  is an awakening so forceful it leaves you bewildered by its balm. Electrified by its energy.  Held by loving hands.  Kissed by bliss.  Left naked in a place that straddles fear and courage.  The choice is ours which way we eventually lean after its vital spirit moves on.........

Radical beauty is a bulls-eye to the heart and soul comprised of a wild surge of feelings. It's like standing under a cascading waterfall drenched by its arrival. When we encounter one of these trembling moments, we are knocked us off balance by its surprising force.  

Radical beauty quickly strips away the sludgey complications of a stress filled life and leaves a twinkling smiling desire.  Raw vulnerability transforms into naked grace.  Confident love.  In the now.  Poignantly more intense when it happens when our vulnerable hearts need massaging.  It grabs hold of our attention, and shapes our focus.  Regular ticking time alters its distance.  Breathing happens without our awareness.  

These sacred moments in our ordinary lives are difficult to describe with the words we have. Its a spiritual voyage beyond meaning-full words.  If we're blessed to share this intimately with another? When we are given the gift of seeing our own beauty reflected in the eyes of another, it can literally take away breath.  Alter our lives.   Radical beauty fills our pores with love and belonging. It tickles the temples of compassion as well as the protective pulse of anxiety.  

There is no denying it.   As much as you may want to. 

 

 U2 concert, July 2011

pressed flowers and other revealing things

 These ones stayed..............

I lost count on the number of boxes I filled with books during one of the most humid nights of this summer.   There were times when I hesitated.... caught by a memory of when one of them had been added to the shelves.  A Christmas present...anniversary.....birthday gifts.  The much coveted novel, enjoyed immensely.  For the most part however, I was on a roll.  With a glass of wine on hand, and my musical preferences to keep me company, I spent hours decluttering, cleaning and stacking the boxes for future retrieve.  

My focus tumbled around 2:45 am.  Not quite the witching hour.  Almost. 

I came face to face with a  large reference tomb of a book . My resolve melted momentarily.  It had nothing to do with the book itself.  Rather, it was the pieces of paper towels sticking out of through the pages that caught my eye.  Caught breath.  Wavering balance.  My initial reaction was to recoil like I had seen a water moccasin curled up on the bottom shelf hissing at me!  It was just a book for goodness sake.  How in the world can something so inanimate create such a visceral reaction?  Well, try living in a house whose familial foundation was startled by thundering betrayal.  There are little emotionally ticking trinkets mocking you for months afterwards.  Bloody loud they can be! 

As soon as I saw them, a realization hit me in the gut.  Inside the creases of the paper towels were beautifully pressed flowers.  Pansies, daisies, forget me knots I had picked from our first house and placed in the book many years ago to dry.  My intentions back then were to use them to decorate candles or note paper. 

But, then I got busy.  The craft project was forgotten. The flowers were abandoned.

Two children to raise.

A career that kept me busy.

A home to run. 

A marriage to....................?

I took a bit of time to look at the flowers laying open on paper. My hands open to hold them.   I took in their delicate beauty.  I remembered where I had picked them...out of the garden of our first house.   I cried a little.  Not enough moisture to bring them back to life.....just enough to moisten my cheeks.  Then, I tossed them into the trash. 

I've tossed a lot of stuff along with rearranging pictures and painting walls.  Enlightening....... and lightening. Everytime I've reached that place when I could let go of "the stuff"  my whole body feels like it is somehow defying gravity for a thin air second. 

To get to this head space, I have worked hard taking one step at a time.  There are some who feel that I should be farther along the path. How do I know this?  I hear it.  Then, there are some who comment on how well I'm doing.  I hear this too.  Who the hell knows..... except me.  I am where I am.......   More importantly, I am fine with where I am.  Right here.  Living.  Moving forward at my own pace.  If there is anything I can control, its my own pace and my own readiness to tackle yet another piece of the "letting go" puzzle.  Those overcrowding yakety yak books were my chosen target the other night. When the urge hits, you've got to move into that headspace and go to it even if it takes all night long..... which it did. 

I put the kettle on as the sun raised it's orange eyebrow over the river horizon.  The boxes of dusty books were stacked high in my kitchen along with a few holding memories of past gift giving days.  My shelves had been scrubbed down with lemon scented cleaner.  More minimalist, they were reborn with the novels and reference books that were mine and the kids as well as a few bright coloured clay vases, a couple of woven baskets, a few framed photos....  I swear I heard the white painted wood heave a sigh of relief as I stretched out my own muscles while realizing for the first time how tired I was.  

Content too. I hadn't felt that broad contentment in a long time......

The sun rose into the peace of a hazy summer morning, accompanied by the choir of birdsong that always makes me feel happily connected with the ground my barefeet touch.  At that moment, I felt alone, but not lonely.  All of those sense of accomplishment emotions were lightly stirring the remnants of my energy.  Gladness. Wing fluttering gladness kissed by the sweetness of honey nectar.   It was a moment this summer that I will never forget because even though it seems like just another chore found on a "to do" list, it was so much more than that.  

A few of the people in my life who have walked with me knew what I had been up to that night.  I can honestly say that their spirit tapped me from time to time and kept me moving forward. I was always in good hands. When it was late enough in the morning, I phoned one of them........ in  a tired but satisfied voice, I announced that my latest decluttering mission was accomplished.  

Full of encouragement that only comes with understanding he invited me over to his place where there was a cool bed in an air conditioned room......... away from the rest of the familiar world.  I took him up on his offer, and as he went about his own chores, tackling his to do list, I slept more soundly than I had in months, lullabied by the constant whir of cool cool air, while being checked on from time to time by the caring eyes of a dear friend. His kindness I will always hold onto.

A month later, when I walk into my living room (which will in itself be transformed very soon) I can feel the refreshened difference.  This particular weight is gone.  All it took was to reveal the flowers caught in the spine of a book to let go of years of dusty words.  When the time was right.  It is that simple.  You just gotta be ready on your own terms.....

ps.  You know, the last time I had pulled an all-nighter before this task filled adventure sure had a different reason for it!  And it had nothing to do with chores!!!!  hahaha!  gotta have another one of those types soon too!  :)

it's been too long......

"The Mystery never leaves you alone.
Behind your image,
below your words,
above your thoughts,
the silence of another world waits.
A world lives within you."
John O'Donohue

Hi.  It's been way too long.  How have you been?  

I've been out in the world looking around, absorbing landscapes, seascapes, peoplescapes.  I've also spent quite a bit of time visiting a very different world inside me...... different than the one I can see with my outside eyes.... very different than the one I saw this time last year with my inside eyes.  

For the first time in 6 years, none of my sauntering sojourn was captured in words published on this blog.  My writing flow slowed right down to leaky faucet drops. I have about 50 half written pieces sitting in my blog drafts.  I'd make attempts to turn on the tap, but the well seemed to dry out very quickly.  At first it stunned me.... made me jittery uncomfortable.  Alone.  Afraid that writing was just a phase. 

Settling into that comfort zone where the pictures and prose magically danced inside my head no longer was an option I could turn to.  It felt like I had said all that I wanted to......... all I needed to and that anything more was just going to be a repeat.  Topics would float happily through my thought process and dance their way right down the drain along with my attention.  Along with my interest.  It was a mystery.  Until one day........ my inner voice nudged me into another direction.  The fear of never writing again left me once I listened to that voice..... and followed it's advice.

I began to revisit the pieces I had posted here over the course of the past two years.  It was time.  Time to assess it, absorb it, criticize it, enjoy it.  It was time to read rather than write. My energy had altered. I began peering into the world within captured during a time in my life comparable to a field of fireworks unpredictably exploding in a multitude of loud bangs, streams of teary sparklights tumbling down and bright flashes of expressive colour!  

Healing, taking risks, learning to cope while growing as "a work in progress" human being, along with the sunrise of new perspectives were the gifts that fed my courage to look at what I had created. The place "behind your image, below your words...." is where truthfulness of revealed reflections dwells.  You can't "go there" until you're ready. 

It was so interesting when the little bell tingled to inform me that for some reason I WAS ready to tackle the review because it felt like it had come out of the blue.  I began by culling through the myriad of posts, turning them into documents so I could have a printed copy in my hands.  Without a true plan in place, I started filtering through the pieces, wondering where these written words of mine would take me and where the heck they all came from!!! 

At the same time, also out of the blue, I was offered a little cottage to use at my leisure.  I couldn't believe it!  For a year or so, I've been openly expressing that I would love to have a place to go that was quiet to write without interuptions or responsibilities.  When the offer came from a new friend I have met this past year through attending church and getting involved in some community work,  I knew instantly that this unbelievable gift was no coincidence.  It was a prayer answered.  I'm convinced of it.  And so, my reading began on a porch that overlooked a wild grassy field and  the mouth of a beautiful river in the silence I had longed for.   

Cricket silence.  Yes.

After the sun set with spectacular glory, I continued to sit until the stars gathered and the fireflies glitter-danced just above the darkened field.  It was then that the poetic pictures in my head returned.  It was then that a thematic structure appeared to me that my separate writing pieces could naturally fall into a collective meaning.  I had the found the golden thread to weave with.  

To everything there is a season.........

Many of the pieces that I think are worth tweaking and sculpting were much more revealing and personally raw than I realized as I was writing and posting.  Some of it was quite tough to read.... to acknowledge that even the poetry and stories I had thought I had created as fiction from my imagination were littered with bits of me.  Gut kicking loud.  Reassuring too.... because it has shown me just how much I've learned....how far I've travelled. 

As I read, I realized that writing was my saving grace...... my breath,  my crutch, my teacher, my therapist. My trusty loving companion that never rejected nor unloved me.  It still is. I wouldn't be as whole now (with a variety of life kicking nicks visible both on and under the surface of my skin)  if I hadn't been churning it out day after day for 6 years.  Thank God.   

This part of the process continues in a pace slower than I would have predicted.  Silent in between time is needed to creatively digest.  That little voice informs me with the same little knock when its time to put the folder of raw writing aside and focus on outer landscape trips.  I've been on quite a few of those this summer to.  

Today, I visited my blog in search of a link to a John O'Donohue talk I thought I had posted a couple of years ago.  I never did find it, but I did find a few quotes and gems from him.  While I was skipping through this online place of mine, I felt a strange sense of maternal coziness I had missed.  I knew I had been gone from here too long.... it was time to begin and end a piece..... it was time to click on publish again to connect with YOU.  

Hi.  It's been way too long.....  How have you been?

 

blindness

 

Storm, Edvard Munsch, photo of the Original at MOMA, 

If you look straight into the middle of the sun, you're left with dark spots floating before your eyes. Too much light is blinding. Temporarily. Too much reality is blinding as well. Temporarily. Both shock your system leaving a sense of discomfort you want to flee. What happens to your body if the shocking light stays on and on and on?

Panic
Palpitating heartbeats
Racing thoughts
Shallow breaths
Electric impulses
Sensory overload
Rushing adrenaline........over and over and over......
Anxiety.
If you walk into a theatre after the lights have been turned off.....just before the movie is about to begin, your hands automatically go up in front of you as your grope around for something solid to grasp onto. Darkness disables our sight. Temporarily. "Coping" with our own reality, by repressing, supressing or pushing it off into a recessed corner disables our sight as well. Temporarily. What happens if you continue to live in the absence of light?
Panic
Palpitating heartbeats
Racing thoughts
Shallow breaths
Sensory overload
Anxiety time and again...
Numbness, numbness......dulling the pain......
Depression.

We try to do everything in our power to avoid the extremes.....those deer caught in the headlight moments and those dank dark tunnel times.....especially if they lurk too often. They make us feel completely discombobulated....incapable and weak. Survival mode kicks in and we put up the shell of self absorption, or try to turn our attention on someone else possibly even overreacting to their drama because its a place to put our own anxieties. We turn into helpers, rescuers, lifesavers....or this is how we see ourselves. Others may see it very differently.

Quite often, because we are so determined to avoid our own house of horrors, we overdo our "helping" and get in the way of someone else's growth and learning. I have been guilty of this. Because of some circumstances where I have tried to "help" or to "rescue," I have neglected my own shadowy demons to a point where I realized the light was TOO bright and I completely backed away. Another time that comes to mind as I write this, I pushed too hard to help and drove the person away. I think its called smothering.....or perhaps "s'mothering" is more apt! Not that I did it out of anything but kindness....but I did it for the wrong reasons....to avoid my own shadows. Not good for either side of the equation. It wore me out rather than energized me and it impacted a friendship.

There are times when I wish I had a magic wand to take away someone else's pain. I wish I had a magic wand to take away my own when it comes to visit. But, I don't. No one does. Pain, which is the offshoot of anxiety and depression, gets a very bad rap. It HURTS! But, it is also a necessity for survival and for personal growth. It is essential and according to Paul Brand is "the gift nobody wants." When we FEEL pain, whether its physical or emotional....whether its a great big dark crevasse spiritually.... we must learn to recognize it for what it is.... a beacon, a signal in need of attention.

We never have to go it alone, though it is an option offered to us. Isolation rarely heals because of its massive potential for internal cyclical ruminations which eventually leads to a sense of believing there is no exit from the darkened theatre. But, being rescued is no better as it never allows for new learning from the experience... (and can I just add here that this is THE worst thing a parent can do for their child is to continue to rescue them..... how the heck will they ever learn to personally deal with life???).

Too much light....not enough light......signals we are in crisis. The very best thing you could do for me and the very best thing I could do for you? NOT to go into rescue mode...not to take on someone else's suffering...... Just to quietly sit beside one another right in the middle of the mess. Tough to do, to sit in someone else's suffering, or to allow someone else into your own, but if we can't do that as human beings for one another, then we've completely missed the point of why we are here on this planet taking part in God's creation of humanity aren't we??? This is compassion. Sitting in the suffering.

Interestingly, temporary blindness has the capacity to lead to new sight...."insight..."

So how do we get there? How do seek out that beacon, where the light is just right?? How do we adjust the light so it isn't so darn blinding?? All it takes to make this happen is for one of us to utter three very important words...to a friend, a doctor, a minister, a psychologist, a psychiatrist, a stranger .... someone you can trust....

"Please help me....."

Why is it that we choke on these words so often? Why do we dredge the suffering on by denying we need help?  I think it has to do with internal readiness to allow another to see your flaws.  May we strive to understand that transformation is a life long pursuit fraught with difficult personal admissions.  May we accept the wisdom of Father O'Donohue's words... that beauty derives from the "slow work of integrating the flaw..."   The worst thing we can do is abandon our nasty bits.  However, sometimes it takes a long time to acknowledge then to let light in to flood our flaws with kind goodness. 

Her spirit will continue to teach us good lessons.....

Betty Fox died today.  Her spirit was as strong as her son Terry's.  Her drive just as fierce.  Foisted into the spotlight when Terry's Marathon of Hope gained national attention and enthusiastic support, Betty and the rest of the family supported his dream.  When Terry had to stop his run because his cancer had returned with a vengence and died not so long after he was airlifted home,  the family rallied the rest of the country to embrace the dream of raising money for cancer research.  

Betty took the reins of her son's dream.  30 years later, after touring the country and taking his message beyond our borders, after starting the Terry Fox run which happens every September in most communities from east to west, Betty Fox raised hundreds of millions of dollars.  On her son's behalf.

Anything I've read about her, she was described as a feisty shoot-from-the-hip woman.  Emotional too.  I liked that about her.  She was not afraid of letting the tears fall when she spoke of her son to a classroom full of kids, or to a boardroom full of suits.  The Foundation that became the backbone of the tremendously successful fundraising was her venue.  Her determination to ensure the Fox family retained control of the direction and mission of it is well known.  She knew what she wanted........ to keep Terry's spirit, and  his dream of eradicating cancer moving forward.  With integrity. With very specific parameters on what the Foundation supported.  She was a hands-on hard working dedicated Mother who adopted her son's dream with her whole heart and soul.   The acorn didn't fall too far from the maternal tree. 

I never met Betty Fox, though it never sounded like it would be a difficult thing to do.  The woman was everywhere promoting the Terry Fox runs and the other fundraising events.  But, I honestly felt like I knew her.  We all did.  When she walked onto the Opening Ceremonies stage at the Vancouver Olympics carrying the corner of the Olympic flag along with a wonderfully eclectic group of distinguished Canucks, it was simply joyful.  She looked marvellous.... her famous white hair, her big smile, her natural-ness shone through to all that watched the ceremonies. I think it was the last time I saw her in the media until recently when they announced that she was very ill.  

This woman deserves unbridled recognition.  Her own spirit represents the intensity of love and devotion all parents feel for their children. The success of the Terry Fox foundation belongs to her unrelenting efforts.  It was her lifework, when she decided 30 years ago to turn her grief into productive energy.  We all know, however, she would've traded it all for the gift of having her son alive and well and by her side.   Of course.

Like Terry, Betty will continue to be a role model for every Canadian.  She shared herself and her family with the rest of us.  By so doing, her presence on the landscape and her generosity transformed our individual pursuits.  Never give up.  Do what is right. Find that cure.  Live and love fully.   

So, how can a nation honour her with the respect she has earned a thousand times over?  What gift can we give?  Formal recognition on Parliament Hill is a start.  Important too.  But given her earthy unpretentious nature, what is needed it our embrace of Betty's lifework.  It is up to us to take it on....... to ensure that the good fight continues, to keep the internal flame of her spirit lit.   And since we all have felt like she was a friend of us all......... this will come naturally.  Just like the love of our children.

May she know peace without mourning.  God bless her.  

Betty and Rolly Fox carrying the torch during the Paralympic Games.

oh, the places you go.................

 this morning's sunrise from my back deck....

It was only last Thursday when I didn't think I had a darn thing interesting planned for the weekend.  Feeling a little sorry for myself, I even whined about it.  But, like most of life, if you open up to whatever comes you way, and if you put yourself out there a little bit.............even a tiny bit, there's always a good chance opportunity comes knocking.  From the least expected places.  

The thing about opportunity is that it often sneaks up on you. It rarely knocks because more times than not, it can't find the front door.  Instead, opportunity resorts to sending a flare, a smoke signal, a firefly sizzle of a light in front of darkness.  If you have your head down going about your serious business, working and slogging away, you may miss the tap on the shoulder or the wink from the Cosmos from that sassy opportunity all dressed for an occasion. 

Like a relay race..... if you're running the second lap, you can't be daydreaming about some far away landscape when the breathless runner is about to pass the golden baton to you.  You've gotta be paying attention.  Full frontal focus.  Zippity open to opportunity when it shows, or glows or flows......... 

What I find odd about a jumble of days without a gameplan that ends up becoming full of encounters, connections, good deep conversations, sunshine and shifts in thinking from new ideas?  It takes a bit to process afterward.  When you reflect on the separate activities, they are meaningfully affirming on their own.  THEN, when you take the escalator up to give yourself a chance to see all around you......... to see the collection altogether, you can glean various themes, shared characteristics that heighten the belief in serendipity.  Similar topics discussed.  Similar paths shared.  Agreed upon understanding of what is important in life....... Big picture awareness.

So, I took that escalator up above and what did I see?  Well, this weekend's theme can be summed up with one word:  Recovery. 

Not quite ready.  In the throes of it.  Take a break from it.  Not knowing what to do with it, or how to go about it.  

Recovery. 

Learning how to embrace the vulnerability of it.  Learning that the pain before it was far worse than choosing life altering avenues.  Learning how to admit to a Higher Power.  Learning that one needs to heal.  

To recover. 

• A young man making the transition from a cloistered life wrought with social anxiety to an enrolled student in the fall.
• A middle aged woman who has found true love after many hardships and soul bruises is about to embark on a new shared life.
• A friend who is close to inhaling freedom.... the necessary ingredient in reclaiming her healing and wholeness
• A  family living far away from loved ones and support  who have had MORE than their share of major life upheavals in the course of two months..... from heartbreak to serious illnesses, to losing their Mom/Grandma..... recovery will take time as they focus on the small blessings in the world around them....
• Close friends temporarily living in Christchurch New Zealand near the last quake epicentre... surrounded by resilience and recovery missions.  Amazed by the support they've received, but still quite emotionally startled by their experience.
• A new friend who through a moment of heart stopping grace saw the flint spark of light and has now fully embraced his own recovery by recognizing his authenticity comes from God

.

Me.  I fit here too.  So do you.  We all do. Recovery is lifework.

Whether its from an addiction or a deep gash from mourning, it causes us to be shook up enough to be emptied.  Temporarily.  Recovery is what we attempt when we encounter those negative forces beyond our control, but shake us to our core..... WHEN we are ready, we seek out help.  We admit, and then begin to heal by learning how to let go of pride, debilitating fear, and rationalizations.  We begin to heal when we stop fighting against reality.  Against truth.  Then we allow truth, honesty and vulnerability to be the balm on the wounds....... Painful wounds. 

What amazes me everytime I am given this opportunity to delve into the machinations of recovery, and to share the stories that peel the layers of defensive boundaries away, I realize again how it takes complete and utter emptiness to re-fuel our souls with a new energy.  When there is nothing left in the tank, you can't go anywhere except down on your knees, with no skin left to protect.  From that vantage point....... down in the holy well of tears, a crack forms......... that's always where the light gets in.  And it the light, however dim, that reveals opportunity.  

May we have the strength and the supports to grab hold of the opportunity to recover.  More importantly, may we garner the spirit of courage to grow beyond our wildest dreams into a place of forgiveness of ourselves and others.  

What an amazing weekend.  My life is far more enriched because of all of the encounters and experiences shared with me.  

ps.  My good friends living in NZ just experienced another day of earthquakes.  They are fine..... the recovery continues....... 

the beauty of resilience.....

The other day while at the College, I was standing just outside a classroom quietly talking with a colleague just around the time the students took a break.  (I wonder why we don't call it recess at the College?)  A 25-ish year old student opened the door and stepped out right in front of me.  She was wearing a low cut tank top and jeans. Peaking out of her top were two elaborately designed tatoos of hummingbirds.  In flight. Larger than life. They looked like they were escaping from her breasts.  

Before I could stop myself and gather my sense of decorum, I exclaimed..... "Wow!  I love your hummingbirds! Those little birds fascinate me!" 

Luckily no one around me seemed to consider this a gaff and the student was thrilled that her "birds" were acknowledged.  My enthusiastic outburst  led to hearing the story behind her choice of tattoo. She came to life. Big smiley bright eyes!  Pleasantly surprised that I had even noticed.  I mean, how could one not notice??  The woman has brightly coloured hummingbirds flying out of her breasts and no one comments?  

Her choice of personal skin-art  was a tribute to her Dad who had passed away.  He had a backyard full of hummingbird feeders that lured the little beings to his home every summer.  He loved their vitality.  So does his daughter. 

Serendipitously,  I have been a bit obsessed with these tiny creatures of late because I have a few hummingbirds who have made my backyard their home this summer too.  During times when I've found a few moments to take a relaxing breath over a  morning cup of tea, or an end of the workday sigh, I have watched them with fascination and tried to capture their life essence in a poem. 

I find myself drawn to their energy as they flit and flummer, wings thrumming as fast as plane propellers, from one flower bloom to another seeking sweetness.  Did you know that a hummingbird lives on the tipping edge of dying?  Their full flight bursts exhaust their energy reserves so dramatically that they are constantly on the verge of starvation.  It makes sense.  They rarely stop!  Their busyness and focused determination to fill up their reserves with sugary sustenance seems to defy this fact. 

Hummingbirds exude excitable confidence. Inherently, they use their needle sharpe beaks to hone in on the blossom's soul where honeydrips await.  I watched one hover around a purple lilac with such purpose and focus. His irridescent wings and purple and green sheen body never stopped.   As it reached into every little bloom, I wondered if the little hummer felt like it had won the jackpot!  One flower head.  A thousand honey spots.

The other morning before it was time to head off to work, I sat on the side steps of my deck to enjoy my tea and the view of the river.  The weather this spring has been so wet and gloomy that when the sun manages to push away the grey clouds, there is a stronger sense of hopeful joy in the moment than if we had been blessed with better weather.  

Quiet and still..... grounded.  That's how I felt as I took in the sights and sounds of nature all around me. There was a chorus of songbirds harmonizing, communicating, expressing their truimphs and their love desires. Beautiful sounds!  As I listened,  I let the breeze spirits seep through me skin to let it replace my tiredness.  It felt like an awakening........a spa for the senses.   Then, I saw him.  This tiny speck of a being sitting right in the middle of the yellow clothesline in my neighbours backyard.  One little hummer with the line all to himself.  It was comical.  He looked like a B-flat note from a music chart.  One little note from a universal scoring.  

He didn't sit perfectly still.  Hummingbirds are hyperactive. But, for him, he was perched pretty darn quietly.  His wings had stopped.   Though he was too tiny to make his head do a "bob and weave" like you would describe if you were trying to capture the head movement in a larger species, he did make the same movement....  It was more of a tip and a flit as he scanned the yard like a Lord looking over his kingdom. Then, I heard his birdcall.  He somehow managed to project his voice above the louder tweets.  I heard him call out.  I'm HERE! 

It left me in awe....... It left me feeling as sense of kindredness with my backyard buddy.  My life is so busy.  For the  most part I like it that way. There are days though when the activities are survival ones.  Maybe not physically like the tiniest member of the bird family, but emotionally/spiritually.  On the tipping edge.  Then, I take a moment to sit on my rejuvenating steps to draw in the blessed goodness of my life.  

We have the gift of nature to be our mentor.  The life that unfolds with growth and determination all around us sends messages of importance life affirming learning.  All we have to do is pay attention and relate. 

The eagle teaches us to soar in freedom...... catching gust of wind under our own wings.  The robin shares many lessons about how to build a home, to protect and provide.  Mourning Doves live in love with their soulmates.  And the hummingbird?  He is the biggest gift of them all because he is the the mentor of resilience.  

There is beauty in the song of resilience.  No matter how ugly life can get we are all more beautiful because of our attempts at making it happen.  The key is to take the time to savour the honeydrips and to keep at it!

Trust-Me Boulevard.

 thin skinned beauty

The other day as I was driving home, I ploughed through a mass of dandelion fluff floating through the air.  Millions of feathery seeds once attached to a stem had  uplifted from the field beside the road and then got caught in a breezy travelling draft only to eventually disperse and settle to begin the cycle again on someone else's lawn.  My car parted through the fluff.  Before I knew it, I was on the other side this dandelion storm heading in the same direction.  Smiling.  It was a very cool experience.

I was reminded of this tiny burst of a moment tonight when I was trying to figure out where I've been and why I haven't been able to settle down enough to write.  I realized that whenever I've tried, I couldn't harness my thoughts.  I couldn't remain attached to the stem of an idea.   I have been emotionally, cognitively, physically uprooted.  Spiritually too. 

At first inward glance, I focused on the negative reasons.  We tend to do that don't we?  As much as I strive to be a "glass half full" person and can encourage someone else to alter their inward glances from the negative to a more productive positive, when I'm at my worst I can't make the switch very well at all.  So, I looked at it from that angle and this is what I saw...........

There have been days when I've felt like a train wreck and I'm so bloody busy trying to keep up with everything I have to do around here!  Exhausted, alone, overwhelmed.  Discarded.  I second guess myself.  I let my confidence sag like milkless breasts.  OOOOOoooooo!  I get all chilled and flushed at the same time even writing about it/thinking about it because the most predominant feelings that stream through me are shame and guilt. Failure. My emotions are so raw and on the surface way too much these days. There are many reasons for this which have left me with a sense of stalled vulnerability.... a heart open too wide and for too long.  This leads to serious brain flooding and over reacting!  And a jumble of questions........ ones that certainly don't have easy answers.

How do you love like you've never been hurt when you've been hurt?  How do you truly forget or let go of past shambles so that it doesn't impact a new relationship?  There has to be a way.  There has to be a different avenue.  I keep seeking.  I want the street I seek to be named Trust-Me Boulevard, but I think it will have a new name.  I just don't know where it is or what it will be called but let me catch a draft heading in that direction. Please! 

What happens if allow your inward glance to lean towards a more positive perspective? This is actually where I am tonight.  For the first time in weeks, I am breathing differently.  I think.  For now anyways.  No doubt I have been scattering my energy in too many different directions.  Scampering and scattering.  Unbalanced.  Seemingly floating in air without the tendrils to keep me grounded.  Caught in a draft.  Seeking and fearfully uncomfortable as I take new risks, form new relationships and TRY to juggle everything else in my life I must focus my attention on.  

However, it may not be such a bad place to be at all.  Challenging!  FOR sure!  Taxing? YES!  Messy?  YOU BET!  But, being in this place of transitional movement is ripe for opportunity.  I'm learning every day.  I'm also getting things done around here.  Maybe not as efficiently as I should or would or could.  But, I am.  New front steps.  Repainted another room.  Decluttering as best as I can.  I've got a load of gravel sitting in my driveway just waiting for someone to shovel and level it!  Any offers?!!  

The garden is blooming.  So are the weeds.  The lawn is lush green and where there were patches of winter kill, it is newly seeded.  The laundry isn't folded. There are cobwebs and dust in the corners of my home.  But my kids are thriving and so am I.  In spurts and starts and stalls and stops.  My love life is a bit of a minefield, but that's to be expected.  I'm learning to trust again.  Tearfully, fearfully, bravely.... in my own wonky way.

I'm also experiencing many many many light bulb awakening moments.  Big stuff!  Big blooming stuff..... like how messed up my boundaries are with the people in my life ...... and how much they have altered.  I'm learning that I have a long way to travel when it comes to trust again...... and I realized tonight that the name of the avenue I am looking for won't be named Trust-Me Boulevard.  Rather, the first street I seek out will be  Trust-IN-Me Place.  This comes with letting myself off the hook by stopping the shame and guilt feelings.  Acknowledging them of course, but then telling them to piss off!

If I'm ever going to be like that dandelion fluff and settle down again to begin a new cycle,  I have to be patient with the journey, and accept the fact that it will never be a straight arrow path.  Air drafts, like the pockets of unexpected life messes take you to destinations you may never have seen before.

Hey God are you around these days??  Will you take a moment to check on me... just for some reassurance.  Please let me learn to be more accepting and less sensitive to judgement.  Let me settle where I land.  Let me bloom there on Trust-In-Me Place.  I just know its where I belong........ it's where I can learn that hard lesson of loving again like Ive never been hurt.  Gotta trust in me first, right God?