Love is a direction

He tells me his shoes are all scuffed from walking. ... Scuffed by the heaviness that make his knees ache under the burden and his arches throb from the extra weight.  His energy depleted, he can barely lift his feet.  Still he walks.  And walks.  With a shuffle.  A scuffed up suffering shuffle. 

At night,  he lays on his side of the bed, his body taut in buzzing anxiety, clenched jaw, tense muscles ... his unsettled heart fibrillating off beat. Erratic thoughts race through his dreams.  He is caught like a fly in a spider web as he volleys between questions and answers.   

 "I'm stuck in a place of indecision,  caused by too many to make," he says, "so I keep walking even in my sleep."

The bed....their bed......is now as comfortable as a concrete slab, unwelcoming in its reminder of what had been,  what IS, and what seems to be the conclusion....

brokenness

loneliness

fear

sorrow

guilt

shame

He can't think beyond immediacy and it hurts.  From head to toe it hurts.  His present moment has become a slivering doubt, with the lament of the past merging with the heart thumping anxiety of the future.  When he awakes from a dreamless night, his whole body aches from restless wanderings, steeped grovellings of ungranted forgiveness. It takes every ounce of energy not to roll over to face the wall as he makes himself sit up to a wave of unwelcome bile brought on by realization that its over.  It's over. 

But life still goes on despite the grief of his clenched  soul. Work, bills, meetings, appointments, family, errands, responsibilities ... listening to the drab complaints echoing all around him. There's no escaping the hum of a scuffed life.

"I have to maintain the grip," he says, "because if I let go even for a second I will fall off the ledge and break into a million pieces.  I wouldn't be fixable. It would be the end of me." So he holds on, fingertips on ledges, hoping the nightmare will end.

With memorized motions,  he shuffles off to work, his hands closed tightly,  stuffed in his pockets. He walks against the bitter  April wind.  His breathing's short snippy gasps lacks fresh air oxygen.  It shorts out his thinking,  and leaves him clouded in confusion. A clenched soul, stuck in the discomforting transition of change, numbed by too much real, feeling like if he surrenders to his feelings, he will be sucked into a vortex.   Lost in his own miserable meanderings, he rarely registers the world around him.  It's like he's formed a bubble of discontent around his body.  Love can't escape.  It can't get in either.   

For some reason this morning, he looks up from his self absorption and sees two men, homeless and huddled under a ratty wool blanket leaning against the corner of the grey brick wall away from the entrance to the park. Their winter wool caps are moth eaten worn. Their faces are haggard from a tangled hard life. He sees one of the men pull a worn lunch bag out of his jacket  pocket and take out a sandwich. 

Without a word spoken, the man carefully unwraps it, and gives half to his friend to share. As these two ragamuffin men sit in a moment of kindred serenity, oblivious to their surroundings, sharing the only food they have, the clenched souled man stops dead on the sidewalk and stares at them.  The scene pierces through his armour, as he realizes he is witnessing the essence of love. Humanity in its ordinary glory. 

 In a rush of awareness, his warm tears trickle down his cheeks.  His shoulders give way to humble gratitude.  His heart softens as his thoughts percolate with a nod towards what matters and a dismissal of all that doesn't.  In one marked moment, he lets go of the myriad of questions as he realizes he simply has to trust in love. 

 

Tired and spent but now wide awake, the bubbled of discontent bursts as he catches the eyes of the two friends sharing lunch.  He smiles at them, then wipes his nose on his coat sleeve, inhales the biggest breath of much needed air and walks on towards the little chapel he passes everyday on his way to work. Though empty and silent, the chapel still beckons.

He pulls open the heavy wooden door to find a stream of sunlight dappling through the stain glass and walks over to the pew bathed in the sun's rays. He sits quietly ..... alone .... silent, and realizes his heart pain of loneliness had lifted, replaced with the comfort that perhaps love gets lost in the jumble of complicated feelings that wax and wane.  

Once found, perhaps love is a direction. The guide.  It is how you choose to see life.  It is where you  choose to place your gaze.  He had allowed his feelings along with his stubborn will to shut himself off from the person who loved him the most.  She had done the same. 

He unclenches his hands, and gently lays his fingers together, his palms touching........and looks up at the ceiling.  Despite the uncertainty of the future, he felt a calmness bathe over him and his determination return.  In silent reverence to his new found direction he turns his face towards the beam of  sunlight and whispers the words, "thank you."  


He found the tonic for his clenched soul...... in the sharing of a sandwich.

embers from advent.........

It feels likes it been quite a long time since I purposefully closed the curtains on the outside world and opened the  inside windows to have a look. Ahhhhhhhh!  It seems like the only time I manage to do so is when I'm spent.... saturated with stories, pressures, overwired with connections.  

I yearn for it.  

I think about it. 

Even try to plan for it, 

but my own life churning keeps it at bay....... keeps the curtains open. 

Intentionally I avoid it until I'm at the emotional razor's edge when the sense of claustrophic lack of oxygen hovers.  

Fear.  Fear of the unknown.

Fear of it being too emotionally naked.

Vulnerable.

I know better.   I need it more often.  Yes, this morbidly open mouthed extrovert needs more quiet time than ever before.  Not just when I'm stretched out relaxing in the bathtub.  I've learned the medicinal elixirs stirring in silent mediation. It lessens the weight. It opens the pores to light.  Beautiful light.

Tonight, as I sit cuddled up in a chair which is pulled up to the fireplace,

clusters of candlelight flicker dance 

above and below,

sending blended scents of ordinary aromas.....

lingering memories I breathe in with no effort.

vanilla, lemongrass, 

clementine blossoms, iced pine,

crisp linen, seashore heather,

cranberry sweetness.

I watch the fire flicker into embers.

Draw nearer

Draw nearer

In the glowing.

Sweet whistles of captured summer rains

sizzle like birdsong

Flames waffle with the sound reminiscent of flapping sheets on the clothesline

air fillap

air fillap

air fillap

spark crackle embers tango with maple yule

send searing heat rays

kissing my barefeet cold from winter floorboards.

compressing my cheeks like the warmth from my grandmothers hands.

I close my eyes......

music filters all around me

choirs of soprano faith hit high echo notes

gently bouncing off cupolas of old cathedrals

voice instruments that soothe ancient shadows

madrigal hymns that massage tired souls

encircling my space like angel goodness

to help persuade dark thoughts to take flight.

for sorrow to latch onto white waves

capping constant rolling currents that flow past.....

thoughts float in through the open windows

and settle into my awareness

gaps, once clogged in chatter welcome the thoughts

old questions, retooled doubts,

mysteries laden with burdensome timber

accompany the thoughts, transforming them into feelings.

harsh feelings of hurt and broken promises.

I ask why.

I ask why..... again......

Why?

My stomach begins to churn again.

Restless phantoms threaten to dissolve stillness into sorrow.

I breathe in scented reassurance.... 

I breathe out relief 

I breathe in sensory enhancing trembles.

I breathe out relief mixed with grins.

Grief work

Letting realities settle.

Choirsong gently softens the edges 

turning sorrows and hurt into ashes and embers

that fall below the flames 

Sounds like flapping sheets in the wind

sweet whistles of captured summer rain

I realize stillness can only visit if one welcomes sorrow beforehand.

gloria..........

gloria.........

draw nearer

draw nearer

hallelujah

in the glowing.....

layers of forgiveness feed the fire

hallelujah

let it go

let it go

soprano faith spills into my sanctuary

bouncing off cupolas of ancient cathedrals

echoing assurance that in life we are never alone.

'tis the season when change is the most trying

when naughty newness is frowned upon

when miracles are dismissed as lies

when judgement wags the know it all finger

when transitions leave stretch marks on swollen bellies 

ready to burst under the discomfort....

Embers slowly accumulate under the dying fire

by the melted candlewax......... 

A star begins to shine brightly on forgiveness

on peace, love, acceptance and hope

Joyful hope

as we prepare for receiving the gift of birth. 

Comfort and Joy.

Comfort and Joy.....

while the choir of ancient angels harmonize hearts and souls........

Christmas is nearly here.....

 _________________________

Dear God,

Thank you for helping me open my heart to the spirit of the season.

By........

Letting me breathe in the stark realities without falling apart

Showing  me how to breathe out empathy, peacefulness and forgiveness

Please keep reminding me that the least deserving, the ones who have cause pain, who have shown no remorse in their selfish actions are the ones in my life who need to be loved the most.

Thank you God for this season of Advent and for helping me to embrace its meaning 

so as to let go of what may never have meaning.

As the embers cool from close-up fires, I am learning to let go.

I am learning.......

snapshot

The wind is picking up outside while the rain continues to pelt the earth with an incessant fury. The river belches in fullness and flows with determination down towards the Bay of Fundy.  High tides ream the coastal shorelines, already saturated with this deluge.  Where is it all coming from?  In other parts of this country, it arrived as snow.  I can't imagine how much snow this would be if the temperatures were lower.  Up to the "window sills high" I'm sure.  Instead , my town is getting a thorough rain cleansing.  I will do the same.  By writing ..... a cleansing of a few thoughts which have been logjammed while I pushed through my restlessness.  

Tonight, I'm safe, warm and dry in my home.  Inspirational upbeat music is playing in the background, encouraging me to write, but also to sway to the beat.  There are a few tasks on the "to do" list that are vying for my attention, but dammit, I'm going to blog tonight!  Not only that, I'm going to FINISH a piece and post it!  It seems as though I begin a new piece and run out of steam halfway through it....... or maybe my attention gets redirected .... or the restlessness I have been feeling kicks in.  All of those things, plus I've been busy.  Man, have I been busy.  But, you know........ it still seems like it takes me 5 extra steps per usual step to accomplish anything.   Focus still wanes.  Certain tasks don't seem to get completed on time.  I'm trying.

Maybe i'm just always trying to catch up to the learning. That's how it really feels.  My learning curve which has been created by so many amazing experiences this fall is as steep as Everest!  As I have journied forward, tackling hard heart things as well as welcoming tenderness back into my broken heart, I am learning to step out into the world of discomfort to feel the yawning stretch of opening the door to surprises!  

Wide-eyed ones.  Whispering ones.  Courageous ones.  Scary ones.  Expressive ones.  Risky ones.  Shaky ones.  Deep pit in the stomach ones.  High flying catapulting ones.  Prayer-full ones.  Surprises parcelled in promises of learning.   

In order to continue the flow of this piece however, I refuse to get all jammed up trying to write about everything that has happened.  As much as I would like to do just that........ I would need a week or so to give the stories the attention they deserve.  My restless soul won't allow it right now.   Instead, I decided to provide a snapshot of where I've been and where I am.  That way, I am hoping I can begin to unravel what is in my heart and head.......... AND get back on track with my writing and blogging.   It is too important and meaningful to me to let it slide any longer.   Writing isn't a choice anymore.  It is a life force.  Like breathing.  Like any creative outlet.  Part of me feels like I've been holding my breath!   

So, without further hesitation....... a snapshot complete with headings........ 

What have I noticed recently?   The other night, I was walking my dog down the street.  The winter stars were glistening jewels in the black sky.  The moon was a sliver of itself.  From this vantage point, I could see the lights on the other side of the Saint John River.  Some of them were stretched in blurry reflection on the water, bobbing with the currents.  Golden yellow, candescent white, a flashing red from the tower which welcomes the planes into this city.  I expected to see flickering Christmas colours beyond the river, decorating the homes I couldn't make out in the dark.  What I noticed?  The only predominant colour of light that night was blue.  It was like it outshone all other colours.... left them in its wake. The blue light shone in random fashion like they were fancy stars hovering low to protect the people who lived over there.  Or maybe they were remnants of summer fireflies.  I stood and watched them glow on and on.......... my hands in my pockets to keep warm......... my big blue scarf wrapped up around my neck and ears in silence.   I wasn't restless.  

Currently reading...... I wish I could state that its a big juicy novel that I have escaped into!   Not yet.  Soon I hope.  Maybe over the Christmas holidays.  However, what I am reading are stories and explanations of the Season.  Advent stirs in and around me.  I have a thirst for it.  No matter how busy I am, my thoughts don't stray too far from it's guidance and lessons.   All year long, I have said to myself that I wanted to simplify........ to let go of the layers of complications ....... to pry my fingers off life's steering wheel ... to learn to be more accepting and less controlling of how events unfold ..... to surrender rather than ADD more to the buffet!  I kept adding more..... more and more...... making life more complicated than I could handle, until it forced me to dive undercover to hide.  I was doing the opposite of what I wanted!  How masochistic is that?  So......... here we are, in the  middle of Advent, and I see how I actually have been simplifying.... not in the traditional manner, but by reflecting on what is most important and what is gravy.   I may be busy juggling home, community, work, and play, but inside the layers of complications are letting go as I prepare for Christmas Day with my family and friends in Joyful Hope.

Currently creating...... I can't tell you that!  It would spoil the surprise!  I've got a few little gifty projects on the go right now.  I love this time of year!

Favourite things.... Kissing ranks high on the list lately.  I forgot how wonderful it was.  Yeah, I'd walk a mile in a snowstorm for a lingering romantic kiss.  hmmmmm......... what else? Gee, all of a sudden my brain is fogging up with passionate steam!  hahaha!

What I am thankful for:   Absolutely no question.  I am so grateful to be a Mom to two of the most beautiful human beings around.  Yeah, I'm a little biased, but honestly?  Last night, the three of us sat down for Sunday dinner and my whole being filled up with love and gratitude when I looked into their eyes.   We are doing alright, the three of us.  In fact, we are doing just fine despite our personal stressy days and busy ways.  Both are excelling at school and in their personal pursuits.  I am so proud of my daughter and my son.  They give me strength everyday, and i hope I do the same for them.  

What am I listening to?  Life, traffic and music all around me ...  students in need of spilling their stories, the voices of my friends and family, my inner voice, choral hymns, lessons in nature, sermons that touch my heart and soul, the spoken words of a friend whom I have spent meaningful time with this fall as she successfully SOARED towards making her personal vision come to life.  Her fierce determination to bring 1000 people together to promote much needed treatment services for Youth in this province with mental health issues culminated in an amazing rally last week!  It was a grassroots community movement that only happened because of my friend Maureen's shared testimony and connection to groups and individuals throughout the city.  AMAZING!  I was honoured to be a part of it from the initial planning stages in mid-October.  Here's a link to the latest story about the event.   I will write more about this when I have time to reflect properly over the holidays.

Plans for the upcoming week...... SO MUCH GOOD STUFF!  And of course, the other stuff I don't even know is going to happen!  Gifts.  Blessings.  New learning.  Illumination.  Worries resolved.  New worries rooted.  Projects continued.  Music to stir.  Feelings that run deep.  Meaningful connections.  Love.... giving and receiving.  Beauty in all of life's imperfections.

How about a picture?  This one is my favourite of the week.  Youth learning about the importance of community gathering to support a cause.  These kids were very involved at the Connect the DOTS rally in front of the legislature.  My Max is in the middle!  It was awesome!  

So, here is my snapshot.  A little rambling, but I just kept writing and let my fingers feel the keys again.  No edits.  One draft.  C'est tout!  I feel blog unclogged a bit!  Hopefully I can reach inside to find that creative writing side of me again.  I've missed it sorely!  Here's hoping it will return as my restlessness disappears.  Joyful hoping!

you win some....

 a cross of limbs

But you might get lucky now and then

You win some, you might get lucky now and then

You win some

 Mark Knopfler, Get Lucky

I have learned to find stillness inside my core.  Not all the time.  When I need to seek it. Music guides me there. With its soothing melodic sound, I allow it to surround me like a warm comforting shawl wrapped around my whole body. Soft earthy colours that gently touches my senses but doesn't impede my freedom to allow life's hymns to penetrate my flesh. In fact, it seems to do the opposite.  It opens me up to receiving the flow of thought and feeling as I breathe.  Accompanied by candlelight clarity and ancient hymns, I have learned to seek out a relaxed sanctuary where I can embrace vulnerability with a sense of soul safety.  

Sometimes, I don't have to set up my own little chapel of stillness.  Sometimes, it finds me when I'm least expecting it or when I need it the most..... when the sounds of my world resemble clashing cymbals, offbeat noise generated by loud obnoxious fumes generated from life out of hand.  Ringing in my ears.  Ringing in my soul.  I've learned to recognize those off kilter moments, especially if I am physically and/or emotionally spent, and do something about it.  Then, I gather my outgoing energy and turn it inwards.  Just for a brief respite until I can reach the end of a stressful, busy, loud noisy day when I can snuggle into the comfort of the shawl for a longer period of time.  It makes me smile as I write this. Regeneration. 

Paradoxically, it's a process of regaining some control of what is allowed to penetrate me and what I long to release by letting go of the controls.  Recently, I learned itt's a form of centring.  Integrating head and heart with something far deeper and mysterious in the core of my soul.  That is where the guiding light is.  Down this dark shadowy tunnel, a guiding light awaits.  Its glow awakens calm, courage, clarity.  Its glow invites resolution by letting you safely look deeply into the place where tears are made.  Not the ones that flow down cheeks. These soultears are the ones that weep into muscles and bones.  They touch upon the tension and untie the bruising knots that stiffen the body and mind.  Just by breathing.  Alone.  In candlelight clarity.  Inside ancient hymns.  Healing happens.

Since I'm not a person prone to following directions or rules, my drummer beats to its own cadence.  In the summer, I sat outside on my back deck under the stars surrounded by the warm wafting breeze, enraptured by the fireflies while listening to music.  Sometimes I had a hot mug of tea close by.  Sometimes I poured myself a glass of crisp white wine to sip on.  Behind me, music would play out of the speakers, filling the air around me with loving familiarity.  A whole evening would slip away as I sat in peace, allowing the thoughts and feelings transfer in and out of my consciousness as I listened to a few selected CD's.  One of them was Mark Knopfler's, Get Lucky.  This fall, I misplaced the CD.  I don't have a clue where it went because I never took it outside of the house.  Mysteriously, it disappeared and it has bothered me that I have lost my copy.  Since then, I have found other pieces of music..... some classical, some traditional choir music..... some jazz melodies.

Memories, ideas, beautiful faces from the past, fears, grief, gaps of wondering if I would ever find the answers.  It helped me to immeasurably learn that not only are there many important situational events in life that have no resolution, it doesn't matter if you just let go of their hold on you. Ah, but then there were moments of clarity when the messages reached me........ of how blessed I am.  How loved I am.  How contented I felt.  How you win some.  How letting those tears hiding inside the soul come alive when the light is shone on them. 

This gift I have been given first revealed itself over a year ago when I attended the Greenbelt festival and found myself exhausted and jittered with stressy complications walking into an ethereal feeling room called Soulspace.  I wrote about the experience, here, here and here.  (I had a lot to say!  It was so new to me that I wanted to capture its full essence....)  Yes, I had to fly across the deep Atlantic pond to find a way to stillness!  I am forever grateful because it has been my companion, my guide, my way of resolving the pain and hurt I have felt during my marriage break-up more than any other activity.  It was only this fall though that I learned while at a writing/meditation retreat that what I had been practising was a formal way of praying!  And to think I thought I was moving to an original beat! Of course it is a process tied into the school of the eternal. 

So, why do I bring it up this morning....... a seemingly typical November day that is about to welcome daylight in shades of grey?  It has been a while since the music from my summer moments sitting out in warm healing breezes under the stars returned.  But, when I open my eyes, I swear I could hear it playing...... you win some........ you might get lucky now and then........ you win some........ Knopfler's reliable voice was playing in my psyche.  Needless to say, I awoke calm.  I awoke with a smile on my face of memories of stillness... of sitting alone but never feeling alone.  

No need to seek out the place of centring.  It found me.  Its a part of me now.  Symbolically, this is truly a good thing.  Because this morning, I will meet the person who has played a key role in the pain and grief I am gradually to let go of.  For the first time, I will meet a stranger who already is meaningful in my life journey, who has altered it in ways I never predicted.  Revisiting the music and stillness I gravitated to last summer has set me up with a sense of readiness for this encounter.  It will allow me to express myself in a manner that has a tone of forgiveness towards a human being and not the ugly monster I had conjured up in my head.   All the nasty accusations have disappeared from my internal conversations....... I'm ready to be human to another human.

Healing comes under different shawls of comfort.  Healing comes when stillness leads you to the internal light that shines on a place where tears are made.  Healing comes when you feel the breath of God in every breath you take, knowing you're not alone.  Healing comes when the hymns of life transform the energy from the outside zip to the inside stories unfolding.  It's soul work.  Not easy.  It was the hardest work I've ever done...pushing through all of those raging feelings, learning how to pray in my own manner.  But, now that I am capable of it, I'm free.  And lucky.

Ps. By the end of the day, I will have another copy of that CD! 

the breath of shadows

The old country church was unlocked for us by the beautiful woman who has held the key for many years.  All we had to do was ask, and she wholeheartedly obliged knowing how important it was for us to touch base.  Then, my son and I were left to ourselves to take in the ambient memories, a few of which are our own.  Most are accumulatively shared with generations of ancestors who have attended services, held the hymn books, prayed together, listened to scripture. 

Generations all tied to my son were baptized, confirmed, married, eulogized within these walls. His paternal family has sat in these pews,  have sung in these choirs.  His ancestors helped build this little holy place.  He knows this inherently.  He's aware of this through the stories we have passed onto him.  The gift he feels is a sense of belonging that stretches from the present back into the breath of shadows.  The stories echo home. 

It was my son's idea to spend time in the little church during our first visit back to a place this family of mine holds close to our hearts.  Initially, his request surprised me.  I knew he wanted to walk the circle of the village road to say hello to the people in our lives whom we hadn't seen since last summer.  Though I knew it would be an emotionally charged pursuit, I wanted to as well.  

Going inside the church wasn't something I expected my son to want to do. When I thought about it, his desire made sense.  I guess I just didn't realize how much that place already held the stories for him.  As they do for his Dad.  As they do for his Aunt and Uncle.  As they do for his Cousins.  As they do for his Sister and Me.  Stories linger in the breath of the shadows.

Like everyone, however, who is attached to this village, the Spencer's Island church cradled those important ties that bind in the breath and shadows of people who tangibly represent the eternal. My son had only ever attended a few services there, the last two being a memorial service for his grandparents and a rededication of the church which included remembrance of two elders who had passed on in recent years.  The names Spicer  Currie and Gamblin touch chords in us.  Deeply meaningful, ancestral names.  At those services, he sat in a pew surrounded by an extended family  many of whom he didn't know personally but who knew him.  He is the namesake of his Great Uncle Max. This is  how he is "known."  Uncle Max was an elder and a lifelong active resident of this community.  More intimately, he was our constant anytime we visited and he continues to cast a big presence in our lives.  God, I miss him.

As I took photos from the balcony, it was Uncle Max's voice I could hear the most pronouced...........singing in the choir, telling us stories, welcoming us with a huge smile and a big bear hug when we arrived to the big old house he had grown up in, which had been left in the Will to his sister, my Mother in Law..... my son's GrandMim.  The old house is now out of our reach.  We don't have access to it anymore.  But, the visit to the church reminded us both that its not what matters.  What matters is feeling the spirits of past and present which emanate throughout the village, especially in the pews of this little church. 

While my son looked around at the dedication plaques and recognized the names of relatives, he asked many questions.... good sense of belonging questions.   I could see in him how much it meant to feel this grounding...... this sense of place and person and hoped it helped him find a settling in the turmoil we have been experiencing.  His spirits were bouyant, uplifted........ which in turn lifted mine.

I continued to look around through the lens of my camera to catch the shadows of mid morning.  It was then that I remembered something about shadows ........... one can hear the sounds, the voices, the hymns caught in their breath when there's light shining above.  For it is light which allows the shadows to form...... Light provides the breath..........the spirit.  No light.  No shadows.  No breath from the past......

As we left........... my son asked me to remind him of his first trip to Spencer's Island.......... It was November, 12 and a half years ago.  He was 6 weeks old, and slept through the night for the first time in his wee life, cozied up in a basket bassinet right beside me........ The next day, we all went for a walk into Uncle Max's woods on a beautiful crisp sunny day.......... he in a snuggly wrapped around his Dad's chest ..... content as can be ..... and when he was hungry, I sat comfortably on a log in the middle of the woods and nursed my boy.  He loves that story.  So do I.  

More to come........................

Found Blessings

Today, I stood up at the front of St. Paul's United church and delivered the Sunday service message.   As I stood up there, I felt grounded and centred, mostly due to the loving support of my friends and family, some of whom were there sitting in the pews smiling up at me throughout it all.  I absolutely LOVED looking up to the balcony and seeing my son looking down on me smiling.  He knows now that his Momma has her strength back.    My daughter left for summer camp yesterday so she wasn't there but I know she was thinking of me and I her. 

The whole process has been spiritually enhancing beyond my expectations.  It allowed me to travel beyond the line on my horizon to a place I have never visited.  I have "lived" outside of my comfort zone for over a week trying to "get it right......."  and it wasn't until 2 o'clock this morning when I found myself standing in my kitchen practising reading the last version I had just completed with enough energy to light up the street!  

I could write a whole blog post on the process... and how it was intertwined with a whole bunch of other "happenings" that have occured over the past two weeks.....work, home and play stuff.  What a TRIP!  Life has a way of pulling you back up onto your feet in the heat of adversity and kissing you with affirmation and love from the most interesting places.  It has been a week of good energy.  Good strong life affirming energy on all levels.  

I have so much I want to write about....... however that will wait........ for now I want to post my sermon to share.   

PS.......to everyone who has emailed me, checked on me, phoned me, and sent me their kind wishes and prayers....... thank you, thank you.  Know that you were all with me today.  I felt your presence strongly.  I really did.  I sure wasn't up there alone. 

____________________________________________

Found Blessings.

This morning, I would like to begin by reading a blessing written by John O'Donohue.   It's from his book, Bless the Space Between Us.  For the past couple of months I have read it aloud to myself every morning.  It has given me strength and focus to start a new day.  Today,  share it with you......

I arise today

Blessed by all things,

Wings of breath,

Delight of eyes,

Wonder of whisper,

Intimacy of touch

Eternity of soul, 

Urgency of thought

Miracle of health,

Embrace of God.

May I live this day

Compassionate of heart,

Clear in word, 

Gracious in awareness,

Courageous in thought, 

Generous in love.........

God’s abundance.  How do you define that?  It seems like such an easy concept to explain doesn’t it?  Personally, I found it was almost too big to harness. There are SO many paths one can journey on to seek out the meaning….. meandering paths of thought FULL ideas.  

As I prepared what I wanted to share with you today, I searched for it through many angles…from a theoretical perspective as well as one that was faith based ….. I looked at it through the lens of a Mom as well as the other roles I am in my life.  I looked at it through the eyes of a writer too.  And I have to admit, that the more I thought about it,  the more I wrote about Abundance.  Then I would lose myself in the harvesting of treasures AND would write MORE.   

It kind of overwhelmed me.  Which actually made me laugh because I found myself overwhelmed by abundance.  A little ironic don’t you think?   I probably have enough written down for a book!  Who knows?  Maybe I’m onto something.  

But that’s for another day.  Today, I humbly stand up here, as a human being who has been given the gift of spiritual learning through the process of reflection and contemplation, through many discussions with friends and family…..inside spiritually quiet times when I was able to see all of the “found blessings” that make my cup runneth over. Daily.  It’s been a beautifully challenging experience.  I feel richer for it.  

Throughout most of internal travels however, I was missing the key ingredient because I was being too fancy with my brain and it was making me too wordy. Too much thinking, the people in my life say …. I think too much. 

Yesterday, I took a trip to a place tucked into the woods near Norton.  Smith’s Falls.  It was beautiful.  The walk through the woods filled me with a sense of peace.  When I reached my destination…. At the bottom of this resplendent waterfalls, I sat down on a rock and looked up to the top of the gorge where the sun filtered through the pine and sparkling on the tumbling water rushing down the rocks in a formation of its own making. Automatically, I found my breath.  I slowed down, mind and body and let abundance find me.  In a matter of moments….. connected to nature and God’s beauty…..

I realized that….

Abundance is the collection of bountiful feelings we experience when connecting with nature and with others in a way that provides us with the nutritious gift of grace.

It’s about learning how to open your senses to a new awareness that no matter what may be happening in your life, or what you are observing God provides these gifts as blessings.  Bread for the journey is bountiful.  It is up to us to share the fullness of our hearts.  

It’s about recognizing all that we have to give and receive is more than enough and then some!  Just like the story of the fishes and the loaves.  There were twelve full baskets left over!  We have much to give……and then some.  

Jean Vanier, who lives his values and beliefs every day through the L’Arche community where he resides, wrote an amazing thought provoking book called Becoming Human…… In it he explains….  "When we tell stories, we touch hearts. If we talk about theories and speak about ideas, the mind may assimilate them but the heart remains untouched. It is the story of a specific person that is the way to the heart."  I firmly believe he’s onto something!   This is the gift of abundance.

Heart stories……. Connecting….. feeling loved, significant, humbled, affirmed, forgiven, listened to…….. Think about how you feel when someone really and truly listens to you…. From their heart.  Is that not abundance?  Think about how you feel when you are able to put aside all the busy demands, the list of TO DO’s….. when You are able to give your full attention to someone in need…… to listen.  From your heart. What a learning gift.  A simple human gift, which opens our eyes to the faces of God.  

As a counsellor and facilitator, I have been blessed with the opportunity to connect with many hearts.  I’m a storykeeper.  As a person who loves to write and to interact with others, I am a storyteller.  Both sides of the coin.  I can’t tell you how many times I have met with someone in their home, in my office, in the hospital, in a coffee shop and was left feeling enriched beyond words.  As a human being, I too have been blessed with many people in my life who listen to my stories too, and the same feeling abounds.  We share.  We tune into abundance and we are changed forever.  

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

At first, I didn't know if he could physically handle my visit, but I was there to help him get some extra money by applying for a disability pension.  He needed the money and greeted me with as much energy as he could conjure up.

This man was a preacher.   Before he fell too ill, he’d led a parish church in a rural area in Northern New Brunswick.  Despite the constant pain and ill health,  his faith was still very much intact.

He spoke of the kindness of the hospital staff......how they arranged for a private room for him even though he didn't necessarily qualify. He lit up when he talked about his best friend, who had been visiting when I arrived and praying quietly with him....how they had studied together to be preachers....how they used to go fishing together. He talked about how blessed he was to have three children and how heartbreaking it was for him to realize that he probably wouldn’t  be around to see them grow up to be adults. He pointed out the flowers that arrived in the middle of a snowstorm the day before (a little miracle he called it.) He smiled broadly. 

He then lamented on how much he missed the ulimate freedom of going for a drive into the country all by himself. And as he reflected....as this man with such poor health, and with no money reflected....he told me how rich he was in so many ways.

2 hours later, I left his hospital room far richer too than I had been when I arrived. I left with the sound of rural parish church bell ringing inside.  A heart connection. They never fade. 

Father Henri Nouwen who also lived in a L’Arche Community wrote about the diversity of people comparing us to mosaic stones. Each one of us is represented by a tiny piece of colour, beautiful on its own, but much more revealing of the face of God when seen as a design together. 

Our community lives and breathes suffering and struggle. It lives and breathes love and compassion. It displays the faces of humanity, shaded by the lined scars of adversity....and a longing for connection and validation between human beings.  Community, he writes, is "where humility and glory touch." And to me, that is where prosperity dwells. You see it abundantly in the welfare office where I worked for many years. Out in the margins I saw, heard, felt and was deeply moved by humility and glory touching.  

A couple of summers ago, I was inspired to write a story poem about a scene I witnessed  in the alley by the Community Kitchen as I sat in my car.   I was the only one who saw it unfold.  I listened with my EYES and I knew in an instant I was richer for the experience.  

A scene from an alley 

Under puddle grey skies they emerge,

in large numbers

filing out through the heavy metal door

lighting up in unison --

An after dinner toke on a full stomach.

The best tasting cigarette of the day

besides the first one with morning coffee.

But sometimes there's no sweet aromatic coffee.

It's made from grains of yesterday

Bitter tar-like substance from the bottom of an urn.  

Sometimes morning begins

starring at the underbelly of a bridge

in backbreaking pain,

where no coffee is brewing

where the only smoke is a discarded butt. 

Sometimes morning begins in

a sock stinking room shared by 10 damp strangers

Shivering under an unknown blanket,

worn and used by others prickly and unwelcoming transience.

Coffee there is weakly tepid

Served in a stained unfamiliar mug. 

At first glance, I see

Weather worn faces seemingly the same

Dazed, angry, bone weary aged.

Empty discards in oversized pants from Sally Ann

in threadbare shirts, wrinkled from sleep

tattered, torn faded colour 

Surrendered souls

Who have seen the bottom of a bottle of cheap whiskey many times

Who have felt the biting winter winds many times

and know it feels the same as the hard slap from the back of a hand.

They've felt them both and know they are the same. 

Strangers lost in a fog of mental illness, no luck, abuse and a lifelong hangover.

Numbed on the bare boned skinned knee open wound existence. 

But tonight,
as they emerge and converge for an after dinner smoke
Gathering in an puddle filled alley
hidden by a brick building,
where the shelter and the kitchen
make it a meaningful destination,

I look again and see some familiar faces.

People who have visited me in my office.

Human beings I have seen around town.

The man with the marionette monkey

who makes it dance for money every Saturday at the market.

The woman who collects bottles and cans from the dumpster behind my office building

The mom and her two kids whom I've shared a coffee chat with in her home.

The guy who sleeps on the bench in the park downtown

A few whose names I don't know,

but have seen in the lobby of the welfare office

.Many I don't recognize.

Many are lost in a schizophrenic fog.

Some gather together to talk, while others stay within themselves

lost in the periphery of the marginalized.

Marginalized by the marginalized.

Our society breathes hierarchy like dragon's breath
 

One small statured man walks gingerly and awkward

trying to pretend he isn't completely drunk

Another with a shaved head whose eyes dart in paranoia paces.

And another, and another............same look.......same space....
 

Sober --stark, real, cold, wet reality. Who wants sober? 

I change the lens I am using in a blink

I change my gaze and what do I see… 

Right in the middle of this ragamuffin group?

Is a little boy

about 4 years old

with a red ballcap

and red crocs on his feet

glides by on his scooter.

Whoosh............his colourful presence

captivates.

Like a taste of watermelon on a hot day. 

In and out he sails,

splashing through the grey sky puddles

twisting and turning his scooter

past the sad adult faces too hurt to pay attention

Oblivious to his joy

He oblivious (maybe) to their sorrow.
 

The scooter skids and the little boy yelps.

All eyes turn to him.

His mother, incapacitated by a full leg cast lurches forward

Her maternal response stymied by immobility.

Her face shows concern.  Love.  Fear. Her boy needs her. 

Out of the blue…….

A found blessing friendly face intervenes.

He tends to the little boy,

then with a twinkle of dare, he playfully takes the scooter

and turns the scene into a circus romp. 

He's a smiling clown makes the little boy laugh from his belly

His scraped knee forgotton as he watches this man balance on a wee scooter…

Those worn out adults on the sidelines, thirsty for relief begin to cheer on the clown.

Set in the midst of grey puddle despair

A community of smiles grin the grace of abundance.
 

It left me wondering if Jesus was close by taking it all in.

I think He was.

He always is, isn’t he? 

Out in the margins, where true prosperity dwells,

Where humility and glory touch?

Jesus is there taking it all in.

 

The Bible says, “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”   This includes both sides of the coin……. having the chance to spill out a slice of your story to someone who is listening with their whole being and being the receiver of a human story as you listen with your whole being.  Human stories.  Heart connections.  As the extension of God’s love, we have it to give and then some.  And when we do, our whole community prospers.  

This week, I hope you have a chance to see abundance from a new angle…. And to feel the fullness of its discovery.  May you listen and be listened to as you share a slice of your stories.  From the heart, where treasures dwells.  May you find the blessing of discovery gazing into the eyes of another face of God in your life.  

Where your treasure is, there is your heart also.........

                                                    

"Gloria's Poppy."

Now poster size, 

this umbrella beauty is framed and hangs 

above my bed to protect me from storms 

Hi there!  I can't believe how little I've been blogging.  I've been writing, but not on this site.  I seem to be finding new avenues to explore, and I'm enjoying all of them...... one on one communications as well as journaling.  It feels like right now, much of what I want to share I want to share with one person at a time.  The written conversations as well as the face to face ones have been rich in emotional texture.... good heart opening stuff, which has left me feeling a sense of prosperity deeper than I have felt in years.  

Whether its been in a canoe (yes, I've been paddling...and will go again soon), around my little campfire pit in my backyard.......whether its been long rambling laughter filled conversations on the phone late into the night, or beautiful sharing of hearts through fingertip touching internet style, it's all been healing,  life affirming.  The strength of my friendships with both family and friends has deepened too,for all of us.  Not just me.   Vulnerability does have its up side.  You tend to get to a place where you really don't give a rat's ass what you say and you say what you mean with an honesty far away from shadows. 

Meaningfully beyond, beyond the daily doses of chatty surface stuff.

Every single day brings forth a cornucopia of life events and connections with surprising twists and turns, most of which has a dash of absurdist hilarity, a doppling of doubt, a wallop of reality, and a softening of heart. Feelings and thoughts are stirred inside me as I dwell in this fantastic emotionally driven place of inner creative flow. I know that when I have time to capture some of its wondrous essence, I may just have myself an interesting book written. 

The shock has lifted.  I was hesitant to believe it, but it has.  That's not to say I'm not sad and angry still.  Sadness grabs hold of me at the most inopportune times.  Anger sometimes seeps out of me like a viper and I try my best not to direct it at anyone.  When it hits........ I sing the song from Finding Nemo when Dory calls Nemo "Mr Grumpy Gills..."

Just keep swimming,

Just keep swimming.......

I'm not startled anymore.  My house isn't startled anymore.  Most importantly, my children aren't startled anymore.  Big emotions still, of course, but no startling.  We are in good shape to enter into the summer vacation months.  This was one goal I had for them.  I wanted them to have time to gather their strength while finding their footing again.  I am inspired by their resiliency and their ability to process the life altering changes thrown at them, knowing they are loved, loved, loved.  I am blessed to learn from them and to lead them as their resilient Momma.

I also have learned that the universe certainly does look after you if you allow it to.  I didn't believe this. I thought it was some new age tired mantra crock  set up to convince you to be irresponsible of actions and thoughts.  It's funny, the more resentful I became that I didn't feel a sense of equality and balance in my marriage, the more shut down I was from the possibility that this feeling could come from another place.... that the universe will  look after you.  Its not like you're there for a free ride.  Far from it, but there comes a point when surrendering up one's control panel and letting go of the "stuff" that seemed so damn important at the time can produce a sense of freedom that literally makes the air thin and beautiful refreshing.  

In so doing, I'm taking new steps I never thought I would.  I'm seeking out as well as receiving newness.  Change is being embraced.  The winds are bringing them to me and I like the look and feel of the new breezes.  Who knows where it will lead.  Who knows where I will land?  It doesn't matter the destination right now.  What matters is that I am surrounded by love, concern, and such beautiful encouragement that I can't help but smile more.  The treasures are felt inside the heart, abundantly. 

I have returned to poetic words of John O'Donohue.  His blessings ARE a blessing.  Reading his prose, particularly in his book Anam Cara, I feel like I'm reading it for the first time.  Why?  Because my gaze has changed.  The lens I am fitted with right now is flexible and colourful.  This morning I read this again.... 

"The state of one's heart inevitably shapes one's life; it is ultimately the place where everything is decided.

• A courageous heart will go forth and engage with life despite confusion and fear
• A fearful heart will be hesitant and will tend to hold back
• A heavy heart will make for a gloomy, unlived life
• A compassionate heart need never carry burden of judgment
• A forgiving heart knows the art of liberation
• A loving heart awakens the spirit of possibility and engagement of others."

Today, I believe I have found my courageous heart.  There is no doubt in my mind that I am where I am because of the compassionate and loving hearts who have surrounded me with their light.  God dwells in our hearts.  As Father O'Donohue states........ "the heart is the divine sanctuary...."  How rich we are to carry that in us.  

Hey!  Here I am................and I feel fine. xxx