night rain webs.....

 Some days are more emotionally draining than others.  The nature of what transpires during the course of an average workday may appear to be similar on the surface.  Same tasks.  Same timeframe. Same kind of interactions.  Same types of stories.  What alters the emotional context of one day to the next is what you bring to it.  We alight on an seemingly ordinary weekday with a bag of sticky tricky worries, a list of MUST DO's,  a whole set of emotions stretched and challenged by fatigue, or new energy..... by stress or by a wicked sense of wonderment.  

Fueled by how we choose to see, hear, feel, touch, inhale, give and receive life in and around us, the day unfolds as it will.  Even if we make our best attempt at looking through our lens with beauty, circumstances can throw us off course and quickly deplete our energy.   Today was one of those kind of days.  Rainy, slow shuffling pace, tired.  No amount of caffeine could artificially boost me up beyond the rainy grey skies.  My energy was perpetually damp and sluggish.  My feelings were easily tipped.  To say that its very difficult to work in a counselling environment on days when you're not at your best is understating the obvious.  Feelings and energy aside, you've got to rise to the needs, knowing that at the end of the day, you won't have much left in the reserves.   

I recently met with a Spirit Guide who amazed and astounded me with the "messages" he passed onto me through the "angels" who have been hanging out around me all my life.  The messages were bang on accurate that I have yet to really process the whole experience.  However, one of the comments made (and this guy had no idea I was a counsellor or a writer OR had a strong desire to alter my career path from counselling to writing/facilitating and he hit on all three over and over again!) was that I have recently lost the ability to let go of the emotional spillage of others.... that it is seeping under my skin more readily than it used to.  He warned me to be more aware of this..... that if I was feeling sad or drained it was more than likely not my own "stuff" I was reacting to.  Rather, it had more to do with the feelings and stories others were sharing with me.  He was right.  I realized that today as I kept attempting to find the balance in myself and failing at it.  

I am certainly more focused than I was a few months back and am capable of performing my job, but there is a residual sense of vulnerability that gets tweaked too frequently/rapidly than it used to.  A transference of emotions happens quickly, like my empathy valve is open too wide.  It has made me really question whether the time is ripe to seriously take some formal steps towards a new career.  I don't feel burnt out from counselling.  I still love it.  I love the connections and I know I'm just as effective.  My focus is sharp when someone needs me.  Uber focused even.  Its just that I'm in a different frame of mind.  I've changed.  The shift has happened. Vulnerability is a raw place to be, but it isn't a bad place to be.  It is where creativity dwells.  I want that opportunity to dwell there........ to create.  The timing may be right now.  

I write this tonight........ after going for a walk with my dog.  It is still raining.  Most of the snow has melted away.  The street was dark save for a few lights along the abandoned gardens in my neighbours' yards.  I shuffled along thinking......reflecting on the day, trying to figure out why the blues grabbed hold of my soul when in fact it should be the opposite.  And I remembered what the Spirit Guide told me.  I am harbouring the emotions and stories of others, allowing them to weigh me down. 

However, as I turned around to walk back up the street, my eyes gravitated to the lonely streetlight that happens to be on the edge of my front lawn.  It's rays shone through the leafless trees, and touched upon the hydro wires and telephone lines leaving the rainsoaked limbs and lines glistening   The light and water droplets formed a large web filled with diamond sparkles.  Silent light to catch whatever worries, fatigue, frets, feelings you want to toss into it.  

I stood just below the big tree on my front lawn....... the one that captured the streetlight strength the most and was left in awe of its beauty..... nature touched by manmade light.  Then, I threw my thoughts and feelings UP into its magical web.  A nighttime dreamy web....... and let go of what I truly can't control and let them attach to the light sparkles in the trees.

And here I am now........ still tired, but lighter.  Still wondering whether I am ready to let go of my original calling I have honed and loved dearly and step into the wilderness of something brand new........... Interesting times. Interesting thoughts on a rainy December night full of glistening webs of diamond sparkled limbs.  I LOVE the last vestiges of the evening before bedtime.  For some reason, resolutions feel so much  more gratifying.

Tonight's photo theme is Night.  For more photos and interpretations, check out Carmi's blog. 

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! 

centering in prayer

And come forth from the cloud of unknowing
And kiss the cheek of the moon
Leonard Cohen, The Window

Lit candles on my dresser
Turned on angel choir music
Sat on bed.
Softening sanctuary
Inhaled wafting scents
colour and light flickering warmth
Closed my eyes
Opened my pores
Listened to the harmony filling the air around me.

Found stillness
Found stillness.
Stillness found me.
Comfort breaths.


Let go of visitors....
one thought after another
one feeling after another
one discomfort after another
sadness, loss, fear.....
set sail on rippling water

Rippling water.
Blue
Blue
Blue rippling water
tidal rhythm sounds like angels singing
comfort breaths of spirit essences
stillness journey
stillness journey
inside sacred breath
painted the colour of grace

Time moved in a cloud of unknowing
Deep breath awakening
until my eyes opened again
Found focus
Beyond the glowing candles 
Photos of my babies.
Blonde innocence
created by love.

Falling tears of gratitude set in light and angel voices.
I had been kissed on the cheek by the moon.


ps.  The photo was taken from the upstairs balcony of the place where I was staying in Tatamagouche.  Twilight, Friday evening.

rain brings change

 

can you see the dewy smile of the crescent moon

nestled on high in the harbour light sky? 

it catches celestial angel tears 

from hungry wounds 

of cloud covered dreams

until it fills up
beyond his shadowy rim.

then,

it tips tender drops 

on thirsty treetops

silently releasing 
loving water drops

cleansing nature's sad sighs.

I sense the blue star in the sky tonight 

and it feels like rain.

I see the dewy smile of the crescent moon 

tip tender angel tears 

and I can feel the rain.

let it rain strength down on me.

seeds just need to grow.

ps. it was a beautiful sight last week. i hope you were watching too.

presence..........

Sunset down by the Saint John River

If I close my eyes, I can see you walking in prayer.

Your cultivated silence lightens your movement

and radiates soft echos outward to touch others all around you.  

How do you do that?  

If I close my eyes, I can see you sitting in hushed harmony

cross legged in casual relaxation. 

Your concentration is inwardly complete.

You breathe effortlessly 

inhaling spirit, 

exhaling gratitude and contentment.

Can you show me how to do that? 

If I close my eyes, I can hear you speaking to me.

Your voice, with its inviting timbre reaches my frightened soul 

like a cold compress on a hot fever. 

It's alright, you say...........

I am the light, you say.

I love the sound of your voice.

I want to believe you.

When I open my eyes, and take the first steps across a bridge that reaches over a gaping transition, 

I see you beside me from the corner of my eye.  

I can feel you mostly......... that cultivated silence breathes energy towards me.

I feel it.

I hear your reassurance.......... 

I wonder...........if I was to widen my eyes enough to be able to look sideways, would I see you how I expected to, or would I see you as someone completely different?

Advent

The lists grow longer.  The energy begins to falter.  The head fills up with competing urgencies. Lost in the melee is the meaning and the magic. Peace is only a fleeting essence, an aromatic stream that wafts between the draughts of our consciousness when we grab onto a moment of stillness.  Can you remember what peace feels like?

Breathe.  Stretch those fleeting moments into focus by shedding the lists, the conflictual emotions of this time of year, which tangle mindfulness.  Let them linger long enough to lift you up above the mountain of tasks until you can touch upon the meaning of the season.  Better yet, let peace surround you in a cocoon of wonder while you prepare the way.  If its all around, you will absorb it into your pores like a much needed salve.

These are my thoughts this Sunday morning as I sit in my quiet livingroom.  It was dark when I first woke up and made myself a cup of tea.  Dark and peacefully silent. However, my initial thoughts upon waking were stirred and blurry.  I have much to do and feel swamped by my list of "to dos."

While I waited for the kettle to boil, my barefeet growing cold from the kitchen floor, I decided to take my tea into the livingroom, curl up on the couch under a blanket and simply sit in the peace.  I wanted to breathe evenly again.  It was then I remembered the meaning behind the word breath.  Spirit.  As I inhaled new air, I pictured it full of spirit.  Peace found me again.  So did my smile.

It feels like an impossible juggling act and I'm scrambling to stay on top of the heap unable to go into "autopilot" and just DO IT all!  I realized there is a boxing match happening inside me.  Its like the responsible parent and adult is duking it out with the child.  I want to chuck the lists and go off and have some fun.  But I can't.  I would become a big disappointment to myself and to others.  Responsibilities and commitments are part of life too. The problem is, they can swamp you to a point where they just feel like a heavy burden...... too massive to crawl out from under.

Not that its any different this year than previous years.  December is a busy time even if Christmas didn't fall in the middle of it. Add the preparations of "the big day" to the mix and BAM, it's mind boggling overload at a point when our bodies and souls are aching to hibernate.  I'm sure you can relate.  Balance is completely absent!  Its overwhelming. 

But, you know I think that's part of the bigger picture.  If we don't feel off kilter........if we don't feel uncomfortable and possibly stretched to our breaking point of what we can accomplish in our busy days, than I wonder if we really are pushing into changing our way of doing?  Instead of jumping into the conceived urgencies, perhaps a time away from it to breathe will fuel the energy and clear the head.  Its one way to recognize what really matters.

So I chose to breathe........ and drink tea.  In the dark.  In the quiet.  Away from my panicky lists.  I wanted to capture that peace essence wafting by and I found it in the spirit of my breathing. 

Prayer-fullness, mind-fullness....... peace. 

As we cultivate our awareness of what is on the horizon, may we find the courage to open up our sensitivities to see, hear, feel, taste and touch upon its tenderness. It is a brave and difficult thing to do.  But, if we want to experience the holiness of having our hearts and minds touched we need to breathe in the holiness of being alive.  Alive with the Spirit of  magic and wonder.

Being awake stirs deeply rooted doubts along with our foundational beliefs.  Advent allows us the opportunity to take it one step at a time.  Like the yawning stretch of a new day, when the skies grow lighter with gradual symmetry, so too does our awareness.  So too does our desire to find that child's smile, that child's sense of anticipation and excitement tucked deep inside the many layers of adult sensibilities.

The day is now upon me.  The river continues to flow........its shoreline growing thicker with ice.  The skies have a beautiful tinge of pink to them. The winds which whistled and wailed for two days have died down.  The trees are taking a rest...... their branches stoic and straight are barely moving.  A flock of black birds wingfloated upriver to a place where they spend their daylight.  The rooftops of the homes across the river from where I sit are dappled in new light.  The sun's rays are bathing the red barn which sits off to the side of the snow white field, making it glow.  It glows in new day light and reminds me of a place far far away where a miracle took place. A baby was born.  A pretty darn special One.

Preparing the way just took on a deeper meaning. 

can you hear the hymn?

"...let us preserve deep silence, both external and mental, but especially the latter; for what advantage is it that the mouth be hushed, if the soul is disturbed and full of tossing? I look for that calm which is of the mind, of the soul, since it is the hearing of the soul which I require...

If a man cannot learn well a melody on pipe or harp, unless he in every way strain his attention; how shall one, who sits as a listener to sounds mystical, be able to hear with a careless soul?"

Saint John Chyrsostom,
from his homily on the gospel according to John

rattle and hum.....

I feel like I'm falling
Like I'm spinning on a wheel
It always stops beside me
With a presence I can feel.
U2, God Part II

Silence is not the quiet around you. That kind can be the most jarring of all noises. It's potentially penetrating turbulence warbles in scratchy reverberations, filling any form of sanctuary with the sounds of.........

Someone you long to hear from sitting loudly in their invisibility. Their elected muteness speaks volumes and leaves vibrations of doubt ringing in your ears...

Someone you want to converse with about big things but they avoid connecting, preferring to fill the airwaves with chatter rather than what matters. Their aversions seem like mocking talking.

Worries and lots of them, which have choked your own thinking until the inside of your brain pulses its own anxious heartbeat... pathump, pathump, pathump. We'll call this 4 am unsilence.

Too many items on the never ending "to do" list that nag and nag while you attempt to take deep breaths to figure out when and if they can be done.....and HOW

Even in your sleep, silence cranks through aggravating dreams where discord dukes it out.

You can turn off the music, the outside traffic, the howling dog in need of attention. You can flip a switch on the hum of the kitchen appliances, ignore the snoring, close the windows to roar of the lawn mowers in the neighbourhood. Still silence can be LOUD.

Take a walk into the woods, away from the urban sprawl spinning through the city, to a place of tranquil beauty filled with green light and you can still be surrounded by a texture of alienating amplification. Sometimes its nearly impossible to run away from the irritating sounds of silence. The faster you run, the more it echos back at you like a teasing Siren in hot pursuit.

Even when we pray, we tend to do so within a tunnel of clashing daggers. We're always asking for help! Our inability to silence the vapors leaves our spirits unnerved to a point where we give up on believing in God (he's not answering through the din!!) and we begin to fear it, thereby adding more noise to mix in order to avoid being alone in the silent rattle and hum. Alone with our cacophony of thoughts is akin to spiritual unrest. How frightening is that? Are we thinking too much perhaps, thereby perpetuating the noise? Are we trying to "think it through.....?"

Evelyn Underhill, whose name reminds me more of an old lady typing teacher than the mystic she is revered as, once wrote...." We mostly spend our lives conjugating three verbs - to want, to have, and to do. Craving, clutching and fussing, we are kept in perpetual unrest." I believe she nailed it. Self absorbed in our wants, needs and actions, we forget that silence can be the most priceless gift we can receive rather than something to avoid.

Paradoxically, the more wearied we feel, the more the volume is turned up. That is, until you reach a point where you can give it up ..... an intellectual surrendering .... until there is a shift .... a shift towards recognizing the need to peel away the layers of human made complexities, leaving the soft white noise of simplicity. It's a healing of sorts, this surrendering. One which may take time, but one which aligns with opportunity. We can return to the lullaby of silence......

And as you reacquaint yourself to this meditative experience, when all that you think matters becomes faint, the pathump of the heart calms. the absorbing worries slip into serenity. The lonely ache of wanting to be affirmed is replaced with a tenderness of knowing you're loved..... of feeling a presence stopping beside you. True silence can happen in the noisiest of locations, right in the middle of world chaos. Why? Because silence is the absorption and integration of sound filtered through the heart and not the head. Silence of the heart is always buffered by the child like presence of grace notes.

It feels as soft as brushed cotton. Want to touch?

the grieving process

I've seen it in black and white.....bold type on a page and it seemed so simple to achieve. Follow the steps in the book. There is a method. It goes like this.....

"You will feel these things. Eventually your grief will turn into acceptance. Then, you let go and move on."

So, I rhyme the process off in my head.

Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance.
So simple.
So linear.
So void of feeling.....

I ask questions to myself,
where i am in this process?
is this normal?
am i normal?
does my reaction follow the steps?
am i over it yet?
am i over it yet?
when do i get over it?
will I ever get over it?

The "it" turns into a human picture of the one I grieve, transforming into a blue eyed twinkle, a lyrical lilt, a hearty laugh at the end of a story shared. I see an outline which fills in with warm flesh, hands open in kindness, a face with a smile lined in joyful wrinkles. I feel the energy breathing life which pulls me into your realm. I hear my name said in a voice welcome to my ears.

So real.
So real.

I keep reading the book.....somewhere, sometime, the head knowledge will seep down into my heartpocket. That will be when I may be able to let go. Maybe.

Until then? I sadly grieve on, with a hollow sigh wondering where in the world I am. For some reason, it is me who is invisible. Not you.

This week's theme prompt at Sunday Scribblings is "Where in the world?" Strangely, it took me to another one. For more (hopefully upbeat) interpretations, check out their blogsite....

having faith in others and in myself...

Communication is layered with our own meaning....our own needs or yearnings. It's easier to assess where the relationship seems to be hovering when you're face to face. You can hear, see, feel, smell, touch, and perceive it. The person is right there in front of you....and even then, we can still walk away with misguided interpretations. However, any other form of communication between two human beings brings with it many more complicated blips. Some are relatively new forms......email, texting, facebooking, twittering....

There is a discomfort felt in the gut when waiting for a response, a reply. You send out a message, a story, a question. You ask for clarification, or reassurance, maybe information. Then, you wait.... and wonder..... and fret. Even when you cognitively and intuitively KNOW that the person you are trying to connect with is dealing with their own set of issues, life conflicts, busyness, there is niggling poke at the fret button. At least there is for me. Maybe I'm overly sensitive? Impatient? Needy? I'd say all three.....

I begin to question myself, my actions, my own frame of mind when there is a long gap between putting yourself out there through your words and receiving some kind of acknowledgement or interpretive response. If I've REALLY pried open my flesh to spill something emotionally intimate and I get nothing back, I begin to feel anxious, wondering if I have done something wrong, or if I've worded something in a way that may have been misinterpreted. Depending on how I'm feeling and where I am at emotionally and confidently, this type of "stinking thinking" can sink my boat. I may have started off in a free flying craft with the sails up catching the gusts and skipping right along, but if I'm ignored, put aside, dismissed the boat all of a sudden starts taking in water. The wind dies down and I begin to sink into the stinking thinking mode of travel like a castaway alone and bobbing in unfriendly waters.

Irrational thoughts lead to irrational emotions ..... which in turn leads to irrational actions/reactions. Actually, I think it is more a vicious circle which can begin at any point. My mood could be despondent and it will in turn lead to an impulsive action to satisfy me temporarily which then leads to feeling guilt and shame from the thoughts that follow the action. If I happen to be caught in that dog chasing performance, it's difficult to pull out of it before it's too late.

Maybe its because I have a big problem with rejection. I guess its happened one too many times and as much as I try not to let it shade my thinking and feeling, I'm not often competent at that. It seems like it's always there, hovering in the foreground. When I find myself in the middle of another possible situation where this may be occuring, I try to see it as an opportunity to reflect on the refreshed irritation in order to learn how effectively let go of the stupid thoughts and hurt feelings. That way, I can try to step aside from my vantage point to read my own flushed and feather ruffled feelings. Then, I try to explore my own behaviour and actions that seems illicit a non response (and a strong desire to receive one).

It's a value thing too....I try not to do this to others because I find it so disrespectful, so when it happens to me, it rubs against this value button.

Rejection and that sickly sense of abandonment....the fear of being left out or left behind has a strong pull on many of us. It's an ingrained schema we have to fight tooth and nail to overcome. It kicks the gut until it empties, leaving you feel hollow and unloved. Where it comes from is unique to the individual it wants to strangle. But, I have grown to believe that we ALL experience it, some more intensely than others, at some point in our lives.

Have you felt the hollow??? How have you dealt with it??

I have a tendancy to stick my neck out more often than many I think. I do take risks and connect with many people, whether its a brief conversation with the muffin lady at the local convenience store, or someone in my life whom I consider a close friend. Consequently there are more chances for me to be in a position of being rejected....dismissed.... ignored.

For the most part I can walk away and move on. But not when I'm feeling it within a relationship which has deep meaning in my life. Then, if I'm not careful, it can pierce me deeply. This is something I've learned about myself only this year, and when the realization hit me....when those light bulbs went off, I literally doubled over. Why? Because once I knew that the trigger was a fear of rejection, all the times it had happened, particularly over the course of the last 10 years, went flooding through my system and knocked the wind out of me.

Viktor Frankl wrote.....“When we are no longer able to change a situation - we are challenged to change ourselves.” I read this quote the other day and just shook my head. So often, I have tried to change a situation through my actions, thinking that if I kept trying to connect, maybe the situation would right itself. When I read this Frankl quote, my initial reaction was a realization that this is where I am stalled in the challenge of changing myself. Knowing that my behaviour....my need to connect with a few people whom I seem to be slipping away from may be perceived differently than my intention tells me I need to change me. I need to recognize my own triggers, my own emotions, thinking, actions and then perhaps let it be.

I tend to read things into things......I get paid for my intuition and assessment skills. They come naturally to me. But, sometimes they go into overdrive. I read too much into things and then get too emotionally incensed. A lot of times, I'm right. I'm kind of like one of those sniffer dogs at an accident scene. I usually smell it right. Sometimes I'm wrong however, usually when I'm overly anxious to make a friendship work, or overly needy of reassurance.

Right now, that's me. Perhaps in the future it won't be? I won't feel the need to seek out affirmation? I hope so. It would be nice to relax a bit more about the lack of response.

In the meantime..... bear with me. I'm doing the best that I can to pry myself away from stinking thinking......

ps. Ironically, this was not written with the intentions of seeking out empathy. I have found the whole process of learning how to be more confidently patient, to trust a Higher Power when it comes to realizing I can only control my own actions, thoughts and emotions and HOW I react to others' behaviour....interesting and eye opening. It's a universal process I believe .... one which has become more complicated as we have allowed technology and different means of communication into our daily interactions.

silver stillness

It was stated by Meister Eckhart......"no one knows what the soul is. But, what we do know is the soul is where God works compassion...." I'm wondering if our deepest compassion for recognizing and accepting our imperfections as well as those in others can only truly happen when we find the courage to peel away the layers of silence, past the point of the loud pings and into the sanctity of a reflecting hymn......maybe that's where the soul dwells?

Silence has many layered meanings before we can reach what John O'Donahue described as the intimate innocence of the soul. I envision this as an internal place where an eternal moonlight shimmers smiling ripples on the surface of a calm lake on a summer night. Meditation needs no encouragement when we can reach this place of tranquility. It simply happens, captured in our even breaths of belonging. This vision brings forth a feeling of being in the moment-- restful and awake at the same time.

I believe we have the capacity to lasso this intimate silence where we find the guidance of a Higher power whenever we choose to find the time to peel away the meaningful layers first. I also believe it is an important endeavour as it allows us to sit in a tender place where we can disrobe in front of a mirror which reflects our true essence, bruises and all. It takes courage. It takes time and effort to peel away the layers.....

The outer layer's initial silence shivers in shyness. It has a self-conscious blush to it. We yearn for interuptions....anything to break the awkward adolesence.

The next layer is still trapped in a doubting uneasiness. We are caught thinking......"should I talk to fill in the silence? I wonder what others around me are thinking in their silence? What can I think of to fill the discomfort? This silence is so damn loud!"

ping,ping,ping,ping,ding,ding,ring,ring,ring

The third layer is a stepping away from the noise, though it can be heard in the murmuring echoes. This silence is where stillness begins, in the drumming of reflections. Every now and then we can hear the pongbong of the reflection, like a stone thrown into a pond. Ease is coming......the stone has to settle........the stone has to settle.... the senses heighten and turn inward.

The fourth layer of silence is found in the lapping of the ripples under the eternal moonlight. We envision a mesmerizing rippling on the surface as the eyes gaze inside the deep welling place. It is there where a sense of vulnerable brokenness finds some comfort. It is where you feel the most honest and strong while looking at the shadowy reflections of life’s realities.

The fifth layer brings a harmonic meditation........a kneeling thinness of even breathing, where palpitations are replaced by cradle comfort rocking to a welcoming hymnal hum. Standing on the shore, under the moonlight smiling shimmers, compassion in the silver stillness of our souls offers us the gift of seeing the beauty of our imperfections....our unique signature written in the sand. It's worth the trip.

**the photos of the silver pieces were taken at an auction I attended with my friend Jen last week. When I looked at them afterwards, the phrase silver stillness came to mind.....

This weeks' Photography theme is "Reflection...." no drab there! For more reflections check out Carmi's Written Inc site.

whiskey soaked ancient peace

A deep baritone lament hung in the hollow of his silence. It reverberated through the timbre of his confused thoughts as he lifted the glass of whiskey to his lips. Alone, sitting soundly in his leather chair at a time when the rest of the world seemed fast asleep, he wondered where his life was going to take him. So many pressures, so many complications piled up all around him that he found it almost impossible to drive a wedge through to sunlight.

Today, he closed his shop for good. He never thought he'd see the day. Today, he left his passion on top of the last pile he swept up off the floor and when he walked through the door for the last time, he felt beaten down. Left without a map, he knew he was stepping into what felt like an abyss. Or maybe it was perdition......his soul felt detached from his body. Where had he gone wrong, he wondered for the thousandth time as he swallowed deeply? How had this happened?

He felt numb. His only wish was to soften the numbness tonight.....to drink enough to drive his anger, his grief, his sorrow far enough away so that there was room to find a resting place where that ever elusive tranquility hung. But, it seemed like that blue water tranquility was only a mirage.

He hadn't felt relief in months and it showed in the dark circles under his eyes, in the haunting settled in his eyes. Others relied on him to be the provider, to be the anchor and here he was adrift, floating aimlessly in swift currents. Failure....failure.....he felt like a complete and utterly broken man. And the only thing he could think of were his desire to escape. He wanted to run away. Rock bottom and alone, he had to shore himself up to stay and face the music.

As he grabbed the bottle and poured himself another full tumbler, the night began to swallow him whole. His thoughts rushed together like a head on train crash. The sound, a combination of clashing cymbals and the high pitched of metal on metal brakes felt like it hit the front of the inside of his head with a wild cacophony of fear. Tinnitus of the spirit. It made him feel sick to his stomach. The only thing he could think of was to sit in the silent soaked in regret. There was nothing to look forward to in the morning.....nothing that couldn't be done on any other day. He felt so far removed from the rest of the world. The thought of seeing himself sitting on the sidelines while everyone else got up and went to work, school....destinations.....made him feel so shivery alone.

Lost in complete self-absorbed mourning, he neglected to hear anyone enter the room to turn on the stereo. All of a sudden, music was playing softly through the dark tunnel he was sitting in. It was a melodic comforting hymn which instead of disrupting his thoughts, fell into them with a soothing balm.....he recognized the voice and the song....and could feel it's aural massage lifting him out of himself. He could hear his breathing deepen in a calm. Instead of thinking of his situation, he began to pull himself into the tune.

Beside the garden walls,
We walk in haunts of ancient peace.
At night we rest and go to sleep
In haunts of ancient peace.

The love and light we seek,
The words we do not need to speak,
Here in this wondrous way we keep
These haunts of ancient peace.
Let us go there again
When we need some relief
Oh, when I can't find my feet
When I need rest and sleep.

The Sunday bells they chime
Around the countryside and towns
A song of harmony and rhyme
In haunts of ancient peace.
The holy grail we seek
On down by haunts of ancient peace.
We see the new Jerusalem
In haunts of ancient peace.

Oh, when I can't find my feet
Oh, when I need some relief
One more time again.
You know I want to go there one more time again.
Be still in haunts of ancient peace.


"Be still," whispered the voice in the room. "Be still and let me sit with you. Let's share a glass of whiskey friend. You are not alone....."

The broken man leaned over and poured the stranger a glass and handed it to him in silence. When he looked up at him however, even through the darknight, he could see the man's face.....saw a friendly smile, felt his calmness, saw the familiarity in his caring eyes. He took in the soft light which seemed to emanate kindness and love all around the stranger. Strangely, the encounter seemed like a natural happening, not an invasion of his home. Rather, it felt like a meeting between two old friends.

The man invited the stranger to sit down in the chair next to him, but the stranger chose to sit quietly on the rug in front of the man. As the music played on like soothing bathwater pouring in the background, the stranger whispered....

"Tell me your sorrows.....let me help you carry them."

Within the loving trust between two, the man sat and wept. Jesus, leaned forward, put his hand on the man's knee and wept too.

The words we do not need to speak,
Here in this wondrous way we keep
These haunts of ancient peace.
Let us go there again
When we need some relief
Oh, when I can't find my feet
When I need rest and sleep

be still........

the night will soon turn to dawn.

ps. the lyrics and song by Van Morrison...a hymn which always helps me find my own stillness

going into your own ground....

silence has many layered meanings before you can reach what Father O'Donahue described as the intimate innocence of the soul.......this is how I envision it......if i can be so bold to draw a picture of silence.....

the outer layer initial silence shivers in shyness. it has a self-conscious blush to it. you yearn for interuptions....anything to break the awkward adolesence.


the next layer still is trapped in a doubting uneasiness. should I talk to fill in the silence, you think? I wonder what others around me are thinking in their silence? what can i think of to fill the discomfort? this silence is so damn loud!


the third layer is a stepping away from the noise, though it can be heard in the murmuring echoes. this silence is where stillness begins, in the drumming reflections. every now and then you can hear the pongbong of the reflection, like a stone thrown into a pond.


ease is coming......the stone has to settle........the stone has to settle.... the senses heighten and turn inward.


the fourth layer of silence is found in the lapping of the ripples.... a mesmerizing rippling on the surface as the eyes gaze inside the deep welling place. It is there where a sense of vulnerable brokenness finds some comforting light……it is where you feel the most honest and strong while looking at the shadowy reflections of life’s realities.



the fifth layer brings a harmonic meditation........a kneeling thinness of even breathing, where palpitations are replaced by cradle comfort rocking to a welcoming hymnal hum.



It was stated by Meister Eckhart......"no one knows what the soul is. but, what we do know is the soul is where God works compassion...." I'm wondering if our deepest compassion for recognizing and accepting our imperfections as well as those in others can only truly happen when we find the courage to peel away the layers of silence, past the point of the loud pings and into the sanctity of a hymn.





like an onion, the more you peel back the layers, the more tears will fall.