love is a direction...

Soft shoe meandering tonight after a week swarmed by the buzzing energy of meaningful connections.  Beautiful, heartwarming, across the waters, fingertip lightening connections.  Front and centre, within my reach, embracing arms connections.  Over the phone, face to face, smiling eye recognition.  

Affirmation from voices, from looks, from shared stories..... texting flirts.  Texting facts.  Texting observations, feelings..... Humans expressing stress.  Fear. Delight. Gratitude.  Humans responding to my request for help with open arms, with encouragement.  Humility.  Me responding to someone else's needs.  Gratitude and humility.  

We help each other.  Its the best we can offer.  Love directing.

I held a newborn this week.  Cuddly little sleepyhead in caterpillar purple.  Sigh.  Time stopped as I inhaled the sweetness of her tiny being. 

Hips groove to a reflective tempo tonight.  Jazzed up salsa with feathery drum touches filters through the airwaves to surround me in upbeat momentum.  Not like a rave.  More like a spirit that moves its limbs like the body suit of a cat awakening.  High notes bleeding into the nostalgic earth.  It makes me feel grounded.  Barefoot on cool pine floors.....

I watched my children cocooned in their deep sleep..... burrowed under favourite covers.  Dreaming their own colours.  Their own beat.  Completely safe.  Utterly relaxed.  Sigh.  

I love late night radio..........  with its static touches from far off sounds beyond the woods.  Down a well travelled road.  Along the winding river darkened by a starless sky.  Settled under streetlamps moistened by raindrops.  Never ending raindrops....  It brings music that shares its own stories from a musician's zone flow.  I can picture them completely immersed in creating emotion from their strings..... making them laugh, cry, whine....... the human and the instrument blending together emerging from a studio....... from one microphone outward to reach my ears.  Absorbing it......

I listened to young love conflictions.  New complications.  Big flooding feelings and what to do about them.  His own Mom was away.  On the week he REALLY wanted her guidance.  I replaced his Mom for a short time.  He needed to tell me how happy he is to be with the girl of his dreams........ but what to do about the best friend who likes her too?  What to do?  I listened.  I asked......... tell me what you think you should do.  What do you think you're Mom would say?  He smiled......... and thought and remembered other coversations with his gentle soul Mom.  "Do what is right...."  she would've said........ Then, he knew how he would handle the conflictions.........

"Do you know what is right to do?"   It all depends.  On the complications  and the situation .......  

I'm tired.  Good tired.  Deep rooted gladness fatigue right down into the tips of my soaken soul.  

It wasn't all gladness.  This week.  No.  Sometimes it felt like I was pushing heavy air up a hill.  Sometimes, it felt like I was going to burst out of a tear bubble and land flat on my sorry ass.  Sometimes, all I could do was put one foot in front of the other.  Sometimes, I allowed someone to play hopscotch on my heart.  No soft shoe hopscotch. Heavy shoes.  It hurt.  It was confusing.......  It triggered my feelings of rejection to a point where I thought I'd be swallowed up again. 

Then, something would happen to turn the rain clouds upside down.  

Like a reunion with someone I can shed inhibitions.... let go of the roles, the masks........ escape for a while.  

Like meeting a new friend who burst into my life like a rainbow of blending personalities.  We only talked for a short while, as we shook our heads wondering how the heck we had never met before.  So much in common.  

Like watching my friend cross the finish line after running her very first 1/2 marathon on sore sore feet and a wonky muscle in her back.  She bested her time by a whomping amount.  How bursting proud I was of her overcoming so many personal and winter weather obstacles to be able to run with her head held high and all of us watching her achieve this goal.  She's now soaking her feet in Rome on a trip with her Mom.  The first time they've ever been able to get away together just the two of them. 

Like seeing the pre-midterm nervousness zip through my daughter's whole body only to see her hours later relieved that all of her hard work paid off.  Her smile melts my heart.  Her hugs melt me too.  A month from now, she'll be graduation from high school and heading off to camp for the summer.  Bittersweet life forging ahead.....

Like seeing my son........ with the crackling voice galoomp into the kitchen with new long legs raring to share a few funny stories from his day............... head in the cupboards looking for crackers!  His delight peaked too when he found out that the trip to Toronto next week is now on the agenda.   My 13 year old off on an independent adventure.  Am I ready?  He is.  I am. Maybe.

Like accomplishing the practical things around here.   Painting my bathroom, even hanging up the heavy mirror on my own without breaking it!  A guy named Shirley fixed my lawn mower and gave me shit for not properly storing it for the long winter!  Ooops!  Thanks Shirley.  Next week, a big hearted man named Edgar will fix my front steps.  It's all happening........... so often this spring I've been overwhelmed by these practical things.  Now, I see progress......... Upside down clouds! 

Like having a friend lending me her black heels to wear to a fancy dress ballet gala at the last minute so I didn't look like a flat footed underdressed fool beside my man in his tuxedo.  She is always one phone call away.  Just up the hill.  My angel.  

The music is becoming more ethereal, more experimental as the night lingers on.......... as my thoughts and feelings float down into my soft shoes......

And I remember that today, a stranger man my age called me Kiddo! He said......... " you helped out a lot Kiddo...."  after I tried to lighten up his anxious moment of having all of his groceries come tumbling out of the back of his SUV by informing him that he had just been struck by the luck of Friday the 13th!  

Kiddo!  I patted him on his sleeve and wished him a good rest of the day!  Our eyes met.  We smiled.  Then drove off in our own direction.  

Did you know that love is a direction?  Did you know that you can choose that direction?  You just have to put it out there.  

This week, I took a risk or two.  I put it out there.  And what came back?  Well, you guess.  It was beautiful.  So marvellous that I stand here tonight in my soft shoes smiling a sense of gladness and fatigue, looking forward to crawling under my own favourite covers and letting the dreams find this young little Kiddo. 

Thank you to everyone who made my week so fulfilling, challenging, loving, encouraging and important to me and for allowing me to truly begin to put my once quiet thoughts and plans "out there....."  I have miles to go before I sleep. Tonight though, I take a break ......... and soft shoe my little tushie to bed. 

shards and soles.

The soles on her shoes weren't meant to tread on long stretches of terrain littered by sharp pieces of broken dreams. Not that she was supposed to be protected from feeling pain.  She was no pampered princess.  Her life was much much easier than millions of others on this planet, but she still had her life shards to contend with.... to walk on.  With unprotected soles.

She had felt pain.  Absorbed it too. She had felt the pain of many others and allowed it to absorb inside her as well, but for some reason this process didn't streetproof her to emotionally and physically deal with the messiness from her most recent life storm that had shredded her dreams.  

Not today anyways.  Not today.  Wrong shoes.  Broken dreams.

Some days, she wore the right footwear for the hike.  Other days, she wasn't thinking and grabbed the closest ones to the front door.  Even then, she usually could manoeuver the terrain.  This time however, when she got halfway down the road, she realized the bottom of her life weathered feet weren't protected.  Her shins and calves felt the heat of exertion too as the pain of new bruises forming on her soles hurt to take another step.  With no one to guide her through this unchartered area, her confidence sagged right along with her depleting energy. 

Enough shards.  Enough pain.  Go away.

There were times too when she was convinced  her footwear was proper because she had walked the road before.  It had been no problem.  There had been no shards, no broken pieces to detour.  But, there they were!  Broken glass from tumblers that once held champange toasts, chunks of concrete that had buckled up like burnt sugar on the sides of a cake pan, limbs which once held carefree tree swings littered the way.  Potholes and puddles of standing water slicked by oily remnants from dirty dishwater.  

Everywhere she turned, she saw tattered signs from her past littering the sidewalks.  Discarded records, books and trinkets given to her out of love.  Tossed away presents she had carefully chosen and wrapped.... given from love, often with a giddy bow tied around it that giggled....."he's going to love this!"  Wind-up toys laid on their sides, photos soddened by a rainfall of tears floated towards the drain, slipped through the grates, washed away........ Shards of a life shared only to be picked up and thrown into a garbage bag strong enough not to be punctured...thick enough not to bellow out the longstanding humour once shared and seemingly only understood by the two people the stuff matters to.  

My God, we could make each other laugh........ right across a crowded room.  Does he still have that in his life?  I can't imagine. 

The wind always seemed to heckle on the days she wore the wrong shoes.  It mocked her courage while it whistled familiar tunes once so dearly embraced during the spontaneity of a Friday night soft shoe after the kids were in bed.  No more.  At one time, the music melted away any harshness.  It fueled loving tangos.  Now, it mocks as it pierces her sense of failure.  She dances alone to her wedding song as it plays in the wind of a once familiar road now littered in dreams tossed out by the man she once believed in.  She once believed, when she danced with him to an Irish Heartbeat in a beautiful dress that made her feel like she floated on air.  

Their belief in one another lasted for a very long time after that magical day. It didn't matter what shoes she wore.  They walked together, helping each other to step over the sharp life pieces.  

"Oh, won't you stay
Stay a while with your own ones
Don't ever stray
Stray so far from your own ones
For the world is so cold
Don't care nothing for your soul
You share with your own ones..."

Van Morrison, Irish Heartbeat

________________________________

You know, some days are much easier than others.  Today isn't one of them.  This is the day I walked down the aisle in the right shoes towards the right man.  We said our vows.  We promised.  24 years ago today. we looked into eachothers eyes and said "I do."  Surrounded by family who loved and supported us, by friends who believed we were meant for one another, he kissed me on the lips and on the forehead. 

From here on in, I walk barefoot and rely on my inner soul to guide me.

(ps.  this was very cathartic to write.  don't worry about me...... it's all normal feelings and I'm working through them properly.....)

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.

Somebody Closer.....

I wrote most of these lyrics last year, and have always wanted to finish the piece.  Interestingly, I tried on several occasions to get it right.  But, the circumstances and my headspace would allow for it.  Until now.  

You know, I think we all have a yearning kind of love song inside our souls..... maybe even more than one.  we'll see.  

My Somebody Closer

Just poured a second cup of coffee,

Waiting for the dawn

I'm filled with haunting memories

In the body of our song

Of a day so long forgotten

In the rippling of the years

I'm lost in your soft expression

Trying to hold back my tears.

______

Can you be my somebody closer

Instead of a figment in my dreams

Or will you haunt my waking everyday

Your laughing eyes unseen

I want to live out our memories

Our love captured in the breeze

This is my early morning yearning

Please set my heart at ease.

________

We walked away in silence

too young to see ahead

No fairy tale ending binds us

Our separate ways instead

Yet through the fog of lonely

I see your shadow on my soul

I'm aching for your fingers touch

Your roughworn hand to hold.

______

Can you be my somebody closer
Instead of a figment in my dreams
Or will you haunt my waking everyday
Your laughing eyes unseen
I want to live out our memories
Our love captured in the breeze
This is my early morning yearning
Please set my heart at ease. 

_______

On days when I am busy

On days when peace alights

I feel a stirring you're still near me

Like you're just within my sights

Then, I look up and all around me

Your real presence isn't true

Our lives unfolded separately 

Yet my heart's still yearns for you.

 ____________________

Can you be my somebody closer
Instead of a figment in my dreams
Or will you haunt my waking everyday
Your laughing eyes unseen
I want to live out our memories
Our love captured in the breeze
This is my early morning yearning
Please set my heart at ease. 

part of something beautiful...

I stumbled across this youtube video on another blog and it simply took my breath away. I could picture myself in the audience listening to this man fill the space with wondrous sound images. As he sang this beautiful song, in my mind's eye, I saw him transform the Performance Cafe at the Greenbelt Festival into a swaying sea of people absorbing the positive swirling messages through a sense of communal love and belonging. I have no idea if he's ever played at Greenbelt before, but he surely should!!!

Under the star twinkling lights....

The artist is new to me. Perhaps he's well known across the pond? I don't know. What I do know is that I have fallen in love. Alexi Murdoch's gifts pull you into a holy moment of rapture.

If you have the time to sit inside the stillness of this song......

"Prayer does not use up artificial energy, doesn't burn up any fossil fuel, doesn't pollute. Neither does song, neither does love, neither does the dance." Margaret Mead....

even if you...
stumble in your prayers,
sing off key,
find that love can hurt
or step on your dance partner's toes
you're still living
an environmentally friendly existence.
Go Green.

hangin' out the laundry....

Get those clothes to the laundry
Get them shiny clean
They go into West Guilford
They use 24 machines.
Because they stick to your skin
The smell is a sin,
They're just not fit to be seen.

(Song written and performed by my friend Kirk, aka Skagg one night while hanging out at a laundromat near the camp we worked at.)

Sometimes I wonder at the interesting little artifacts and snippets housed in my brain. Carmi at Written Inc. has chosen the photo theme, "laundry" and ever since he posted it, this little ditty has been escorting me, as well as the memories of a seemingly ordinary evening doing laundry with a friend in a place so small its not even considered a village. West Guilford, Ontario. Maybe it's bigger now, but back then, it had a laundromat and an old fashioned bowling alley. I think there was a rundown old dance hall too. Nice combo, n'est pas?

Three very distinct memories come from that night......Kirk happily messing with new chord arrangements on his guitar, strumming away and eventually making up a silly song that he eventually performed and taught to the kids at camp (it was a HIT), me chilled and sitting inside the drum of a warm dryer with the door open listening and chatting with him from there. I can imagine what it would've looked like to anyone who happened to walk into the place...... you couldn't see me. You would've only seen a guy all on his own facing a dryer strumming away, responding to the "voice" coming out of the warm dryer. Luckily (and this is the other memory) only an old drunk stumbled in, three sheets to the wind, intent on cleaning up his booty. I can't remember all the items that he threw into a machine, but most definately one of them was the paper bag used to hide his preferred libation........London Supreme perhaps? He was so hammered that he was harmlessly funny.

More Laundry..........

My daughter arrives home today for a two day respite from her camp. Its been two weeks since she was home...... and I can't wait to see her. Sadly, her accumulated laundry will be accompanying her........damp, dirty and LOTS of it. ugh! At least it won't be as crazy as her last trip home. That time, she brought two lovely and exuberantly wonderful new friends home along with their laundry. Oh, no.........I didn't take it all on. That would fall under the category of "Enabling Parenting Techniques..." We all took turns until our dryer heaved a sigh of relief when it was done. For the most part, we were organized and kept everyone's stuff in their own piles. However, I have pulled out a couple of thongy looking bits of material out of my underwear drawer that I know for a fact ain't mine, and wonder if they could fit anything but a Beanie Baby.

For some reason, the camp Martha is attending doesn't have laundry services arranged, which is crazy! Given how yucky wet it has been since they officially turned this country into a Rain Forest zone in June, I can't imagine how anyone there has stayed ahead of the drizzle, grime and mud. When I was at camp, every week each group of campers and staff (usually 8 campers and two staff) would sort their collective pile and stuff it ALL into assigned canvas bags the size of large mail bags....... for transport to West Guilford. Can you imagine??? 120 kids, 30 staff.........??? We sent it just after dinner one night and it would arrive clean, folded and still warm by breakfast the next day. It was a miracle I tell ya!! A freakin' miracle! Though I did feel sorry for the folks on the other end who put in a full night of work.

24 machines........... making everything shiny clean.

I remember one "laundry" night after a particularly wet week of fun and frolics. We had played some kind of wide camp game which ended in a fun filled Kangaroo Court. The youngest group of boys who lived in a cabin together called "Bears Claw" somehow won the chance to have their choice of camp counsellor tuck them in and read them a story. They chose me. What an honour! So, off I went that evening to share my best story voice to a bunch of 7 year old boys.

When I arrived, I was so surprised to find them ALL in bed already with their sleeping bags pulled right up to their chins. Normally, they were a rambunctious crew. I had figured they would be hanging from their bunkbeds being silly. Instead, they seemed overly nervous about me being in their cabin. I wondered how long it would actually take me to get them all sleeping before I could leave and let them be for the night. I also wondered what was going on....it felt like there was a secret amongst them, which I wasn't privy to. Well, it turned out that their own Counsellors (Skagg being one of them...and we know how he feels about cleanliness. He wrote a song about it!) sent EVERYTHING to the laundry except for one pair of gotch per kid.

Even though I was a grown up in their eyes, the thought of having a "girl" around knowing they were only in their skivvies was beyond the pale! Years and years later, at a celebration held in Toronto for all the staff who had worked at Kawabi, I sat with a few of those same boys....all grown up in their 30's and had a beer with them. I hadn't seen them since that summer. It had been my last one as a camp counsellor. So, when I spotted them sitting together all rowdy and having fun, I had to join them! And the memory of me visiting their cabin that night was mentioned in laughter. :)Hanging Laundry...............

There is nothing more aromatically inviting than the smell of crisp clean sheets dried in the summer breezes on a clothes line. Its funny how there used to be rules about not hanging out your laundry on a Sunday. Offensive to God? Was it just that you werent supposed to do any work on that day, so hanging out the laundry was a no no? I'm sure there were many homes back when this was an issue that were filled to the rafters with wet things draped everywhere..... just so there wouldn't be any nosey neighbours tongues clicking! We sure have strange human rules don't we?

This summer hasn't been a great drying season..........for the hay or the laundry. So, when a nice day happens to show up in between the sheets of rain, you can count on every single person with a clothesline to be busy hanging it out no matter what day it is. Crisp and clean once again....... for a while.

For more Laundry episodes and photos.............check out Carmi at Written Inc. He and the others have a few picture stories to share......

home....

We are 142 years old today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

breath...

I am who I am and who I am is not captured by a label, a role or an attachment to a cause. For if you look behind the face, behind my green eyes, underneath the layers of clothing past my freckly skin imperfections and stretched marks right into the core of my being, there is a light. Within that light is vitality. Inside this vitality is the breath of my spirit. This is the essence of who I am.

hard times come again no more....

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





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

the beauty of an old poet

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


makes me smile....

Neil Young in Saint John

The Godfather of Grunge.....never stopped. Rust never sleeps, right? It was like he was in the zone as he played his guitar, which seemed like an extension of his self. He's been going at it since the mid-60's. His repetoire is extensive.....his eclectic musical interests range from rockabilly to country to the pure rawness of rock. His folk tunes are where I meet him mostly, but my deep awe for his talent and gift of being able to rock the place out after all these years knows no boundaries..... He is the miner for a Heart of Gold.

A few photos....not great and they won't win any prizes, but I think these three capture the energy and the feeling of the concert as best as I could.

The crowd was predominantly my age and some my parent's age, but there was a smattering of youngin's who have found their way to Neil Young. It seems to happen with most kids who are interested in learning how to play the guitar....whether it's a screaming tune or a folk song......there is something for everyone. When he played Cinnamon Girl....a song first recorded in 1969!!!!!.......it seemed just the right mix of folks.....three generations loving the tunes.

There's colours on the street

Red, white and blue

People shufflin' their feet

People sleepin' in their shoes

But there's a warnin' sign

on the road ahead

There's a lot of people sayin'we'd be better off dead

Don't feel like Satan,

but I am to them

So I try to forget it,

any way I can.

Keep on rockin' in the free world,

Keep on rockin' in the free world

Keep on rockin' in the free world,

Keep on rockin' in the free world.

I see a woman in the night

With a baby in her hand

Under an old street light

Near a garbage can

Now she puts the kid away,

and she's gone to get a hit

She hates her life,

and what she's done to it

There's one more kid

that will never go to school

Never get to fall in love,

never get to be cool.

Keep on rockin' in the free world,

Keep on rockin' in the free world

Keep on rockin' in the free world,

Keep on rockin' in the free world.

We got a thousand points of light

For the homeless man

We got a kinder, gentler,

Machine gun hand

We got department stores

and toilet paper

Got styrofoam boxes

for the ozone layer

Got a man of the people

,says keep hope alive

Got fuel to burn,

got roads to drive.

Keep on rockin' in the free world,

Keep on rockin' in the free world

Keep on rockin' in the free world,

Keep on rockin' in the free world.

Young teased the audience into thinking the song was over again and again.....guitar licks would begin to die down and then he would turn around and kick into the chorus again. The crowd responded like a frenzied Revival! Dancing, singing, arms swaying.....lost in the moment together. I love the last photo because of the blur of the swaying arms and bright lights blending them all together. Uplifted in the moment.....just like a good preacher can! :)

Charlie's Angel....

Yesterday, as I found myself stopped at an intersection on the way home from work, I could see the flashing lights of a parked police car just ahead of me. There had been a fender bender....a bus and a car bumped. Though it could've been a tragedy, it was just a really big scare for the driver I'm sure. How do I know this when I was only a passing person? Because my friend Charles, bloggerman extraordinaire was at the scene (of course) snapping photos, interviewing the car driver, asking questions.

You'd think there were 12 Charles Leblanc's in this city moving about snooping, prying, celebrating, promoting, ranting, youtubing, talking, walking, politicing, blogging.....the man is EVERYWHERE! Yes, right in the thick of the accident scene up pops ADHD Charles wearing his bright blue and white winter jacket with BLOGGER embroidered on the back getting the dirt on the situation and before you know it......zip, zap....zoom....he jig jags through the traffic to get to the other side of the street while lighting a smoke.
My God, Charles you make me laugh! How do you do it???? You've got radar bits in that baseball cap of yours. honest to God, you don't miss a damn thing around here! And you know what??? Thank God for YOU. You keep things hopping and you stir up big pots of bullshit to make sure people can smell the rank of it. You make sure people know the beauty of this province, especially this city and you make sure people from all walks of life are recognized and applauded because they matter!! You have no qualms about showing off the warts and wounds of the ugly side of this community and because you do that, you make people THINK, and ask WHY!
One of the things I miss the most since my office moved to Siberia away from downtown is that every once in a while I would get a knock on my window from crazy man Charles to meet him out back for a chat....a la blogger style. Good conversations we had eh? Ah, but all off record. I miss the window knock...or just bumping into Charles and being introduce to an Irving, or a Cabinet Minister, or a local community member, outreach worker, journalist.....he knows them all...and they know him.....and sometimes....well OFTEN it seems, Charles and I know many of the same people and don't even know it until something serendipitous happens.

Tonight, Charles asked me to post this Youtube of a woman from Fredericton who composes and sings her own songs. He wants you lovely and talented people who read my blog to have a looksee and listen. The video was composed in one take off of Charles' trusty camera, so its a bit rough around the edges, but I do believe the song and the singer have some talent. But, I'm a bit biased. You see.....Charles didn't know this, but I know the woman. It was at least 3 years ago I think when we met and what happened during our conversation which last a couple of hours was a magical moment when grace lightly floated into my office. Right beautiful Sharon? I remember....and I think you do too. YOU are an angel.

It was a pleasure to hear her voice....I knew she was trying to find it again....... So, have a listen and let US know what you think. And Charles??? Thank you for asking me. It's my pleasure. You do much for many, besides drive people crazy. lol!
I highly recommend a trip to Monsieur Leblanc's busy blog to check out the photos and commentary which streams along like a current of activity. The link is on my sidebar......

no longer waiting....

I will be more than grateful to see the sorry ass of this particular day and its only half over. Hoping and wishing on a star, I was for the past couple of weeks to hear the sweet smiling words..."I'm calling to offer you the position........" The signs were all there to feed my hope. Good energy in the interview and a mutual feeling that I fit in with this crew. Unbelievable positive feedback after many of my answers (that's never happened before...usually interviewers are so anal that they keep their heads down and write like crazy people to capture every flipping word you express so as to cover their butts come decision time....oh, and to compare them afterwards once the candidate has left the building...SPENT) I heard things like

"wow, you nailed it"
"great answer. you were able to pinpoint the specific issue"
"yes, that's a counselling theory we rely on here too...great!"

I had them smiling, laughing, engaged.......lots of nodding in agreement. When I shared my secret as to why I love counselling so much (the counsellor always seems to gain insight and new learning just as much or even more than the client....) I received 4 smiling nodding responses because it was their secret too!!!

After the interview, I was invited to have a tour of the office. I was introduced to all the other staff....chatted with them for a bit. Twice when being introduced, they told their colleague that I had just completed an "amazing" interview.

One of my references was contacted and was so wonderful and excited for me....he gave me a glowing reference. I received an email explaining that the selection process was taking longer than anticipated and "thank you for my patience..." So...........you can see why I thought........this may unfold as I would like. I just may find a new home where I could ply my two passions......my two gifts I have to offer this crazy planet.....counselling and facilitating.

Ring, ring........."unfortunately we have decided to go in another direction and have offered the position to someone else....."

And what direction might that be? And could I get some feedback on why I wasn't chosen? WELL, these questions made them very uncomfortable. I was told I caught them off guard with my questions. I was told to email any questions I had and they would be more than happy to respond. You call someone who was obviously in the running right until the end when some kind of twist was thrown into the mix with a generically packaged "good news/bad news" bullshit and don't expect to hear that the unlucky candidate has some questions??? Of course I want to know why I didn't get the job!! Of course I want an explanation as to how I could've read the whole process wrongly! I want to know where I screwed up, so I can learn from it and move on!!

So...the waiting is over. I flooded my office with gulping angry tears and burbling idiocy....my face is all patchy and red and puffy. But, I'm fine. Why? Because the waiting is over. I'm not in stall mode anymore. I HATE stall mode. My creative brain is NOW open again to take a few other ideas off the shelf and continue on.
But, more importantly....much more importantly,......a wonderful group of colleagues and my caring supportive supervisor rushed into my office and hugged me and listened to me try to burble things out.....and shed a few tears with me because they felt so badly. I was told I was loved and valued. And in the middle of my little personal crisis, a beautiful friend held my hand and said a prayer for me....asking God to help me figure out how to settle and how to recognize how valued I am.

In a government office........not typically one envisions an office eh? I love it.

It wasn't meant to be...for whatever reason it wasn't meant to be.....

To everyone out there who had the fingers, eyes, toes and legs crossed for me I want to thank you for that. I can't tell you how wonderful it made me feel..... Today, when I emailed my blogger friend, breadbox....aka....."N." who has been with me everyday asking and wondering and sending me upbeat encouragement, he suggested I listen to a favourite anthem of his ....one I too love as well. My husband sent me the link to the following youtube version of Stan Rogers' inspiring song, The Mary Ellen Carter.... I watched the video which includes a terrific story at the beginning told by a sailor whose ship turned over in a storm and how he survived it....and I could FEEL the zip, zap and bouncy buzz fill back into me again..... Oh my God! How can you not feel the energy return listening to lyrics like these.....

And you, to whom adversity has dealt the final blow
With smiling bastards lying to you everywhere you go
Turn to, and put out all your strength of arm and heart and brain
And like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again.

Rise again, rise again - though your heart it be broken
And life about to end
No matter what you've lost, be it a home, a love, a friend.
Like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again.

Enjoy Stan Rogers....Canada's beloved singer/storyteller who died tragically in 1983 in a plane crash..... his big booming voice and inspirational lyrics carry on..

RISE AGAIN! RISE AGAIN!




thank you Neil for suggesting I revisit this. thank you Jamie for sending it to me.

Is it happy hour yet?

essentials

thirst quenching....

water
human touch
belonging
freedom
salvation
affirmation
sex
faith
sweetness
fun
kindness
redemption
a caring voice
silence
an answered prayer


nourishment.....

soulfood
validation
friendship

family
recognition
new learning
empathy
loving like you've never been hurt
music and lullabies
freedom
peace of mind
human touch
God
intimacy
creative expression
fun
lovemaking
a prayer acknowledged

physical fulfillment.......

food
a safe haven
a good nights sleep
human touch
stress alleviated
fun
physical and spiritual connectiveness
exercise
silence
unconditional love
clothing
warmth
dancing like no ones watching
freedom
a pair of shoes
God
peace of mind
sex
the sound of music
meditative prayer


What needs are essential in your quality world?

Where does beauty fit in?
Is it a need?

What happens when our needs are not met?

Is what you are doing, thinking, and feeling
getting your needs met?

"memories come back to haunt me....."

This is my fourth Springsteen song lyric post. Yeah, have been working on a theme! I've also tried to write four distinctive pieces of writing this week.....a story, a poem, and an informational piece. Tonight .......... drumroll puhleeeeeze ...... something for Nashville. Just need someone to twang out a tune on their geeetar....any takers??

My Somebody Closer


Just poured a second cup of coffee,
Waiting for the dawn
I'm filled with haunting memories
In the body of our song
Of a day so long forgotten
In the rippling of the years
I'm lost in your soft expression
Trying to hold back my tears.
______
Can you be my somebody closer
Instead of a figment in my dreams
Or will you haunt my waking everyday
Your laughing eyes unseen
I want to live out our memories
Our love captured in the breeze
This is my early morning yearning
Please set my heart at ease.
________

We walked away in silence

too young to see ahead

No fairy tale ending binds us

Our separate ways instead

Yet through the fog of lonely

I see your shadow on my soul

I'm aching for your fingers touch

Your roughworn hand to hold.

______

Can you be my somebody closer
Instead of a figment in my dreams
Or will you haunt my waking everyday
Your laughing eyes unseen
I want to live out our memories
Our love captured in the breeze
This is my early morning yearning
Please set my heart at ease.

_________

There you go! It needs a couple more verses, but my honky tonk is tired. If anyone is interested in carrying on, please by all means.....Daisy?

simple gifts

'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free.'

Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be.

And when we find ourselves in the place just right,'

Twill be in the valley of love and delight.

When true simplicity is gained,

bow and to bend

we shall not be ashamed.

To turn, turn will be our delight,'

Till by turning, turning

we come round right

'Tis the gift to be loved and that love to return,
'Tis the gift to be taught and a richer gift to learn,,
And when we expect of others what we try to live each day,
Then we'll all live together and we'll all learn to say,

'Tis the gift to have friends and a true friend to be,
'Tis the gift to think of others not to only think of "me",
And when we hear what others really think and really feel,
Then we'll all live together with a love that is real.

When true simplicity is gained,
bow and to bend
we shall not be ashamed.
To turn, turn will be our delight,'
Till by turning, turning
we come round right

This is a beautiful hymn written by Joseph Brackett an Elder in the Shaker community of Alfred, Maine. When I heard it played during the inauguration, I automatically thought it was Lord of the Dance, one of my favourite chapel songs, because they both have the same tune. A friend of mine who came over to watch the ceremony with us explained that it is the hymn she sings at the end of every Quaker meeting on Sundays....Simple Gifts.

Today, I heard another version of this beautiful hymn which left me almost breathless. It was like the air all of a sudden turned thin with magic as time vacated leaving a scent of fresh pine and spring water. At the time when it was played, I was in a mad rush and was surrounded by mad disarraying thoughts. It brought me to a full stop appreciation of the empowerment of a hymn....

The hymns which touch a chord in us that hasn't been plucked in a while offer us a simple gift of our lives affirmed. They have the ability to make our dry eyes well up in fountains of tears. They soften even the hardest of outer shells. Hymns open our eyes to see the beauty in a moment of reflection which often is tucked in the middle of chaos. They can halt the immediacy of a crisis, can tear down the defences of an enemy, can hold out it's harmony in trucefull honesty, can express the indescribable, can bring people into a gathering place of peace Hymns can make you believe in the unbelievable.

No matter wherever you are or however busy you happen to be, please take a moment to enjoy this meditatively brilliant version of Simple Gifts. I think you'll agree with me. It's a gem.

Seeger, Sprinsteen Sing A Song of Hope

Beyonce brings them home.

don we now our gay apparel....

I awoke this morning with the desire to hear some glorious Christmas carols. I've been waiting for that internal "on" switch to be kick started because up until now, the whole festive season was taking a detour around my soul. Granted, for the past 12 days the only thing I've wanted to do was put my head under a towel and my face over a hot bowl of water and steam my sinuses, and then crawl back on the couch and go back to sleep. That hasn't helped the mood or the ambience. I've been one miserable snotty wench in need of a shot of adrenaline.

But this morning as I stood in the front doorway waiting for the puppy to behave and return to the housefold (she's now doing her best to drive Lily crazy with her unrelenting desire to hump her head), I realized that the fresh air was finally making its way to my head. Morning had broken and so had my cold. And I swear to God, I heard angels bending near the earth to touch their harps of gold........or was it incessant barking from the little dustmops our neighbours refer to as dogs? No, I distinctly heard the angels.....over and above the high pitched rodent yappiness.

It wasn't even a midnight clear........I distinctly heard them touch their harps.

Oh, I have made a few attempts to capture the miracle of the season. The mantle is decorated nicely with ivy, candles and little lights....my wreath looks pretty hanging above it with a new big shiny gold bow bursting out of the greenery. I spent a couple of hours wrapping the back deck with garlands and new outdoor lights I had just purchased only to enjoy it for two hours before half string died out. I have yet to find the energy to unwrap and return the friggers....or maybe I was afraid I'd blow a gasket at the customer service counter over the shoddy merchandise and be thrown in jail, charged with uttering expletive threats. I can see the headlines now....

Phlegmy Filly Flips out.....and Cries Festive Foul!

Family and Friends Faint in Fright.

It's a good thing that my head is finally clearing......the constant dull throb is almost gone. Almost....as I take a break to blow some of my brains out once more..... When I look around this place I realize how cluttered and shoddy it looks.......ooooops and I look too! No wonder I felt ugly all week. I AM! I've let everything around me and myself fall into an abyss of neglect. No wonder no one wanted to hang with me. Who would? I have sounded and looked like an old hag whose life has been one big burden who God had left behind as a miserable mistake.

What a mess! Sure, I've been going about buying gifties, picking up stocking stuffers, and you know what? I don't have a freakin' clue what I've purchased or WHERE I've even hidden them! Good thing I've always enjoyed a good treasure hunt. Unfortunately I have no clues to lead me. They were thrown out with the garbage full of tissues. Gotta make a list and stick to it. Gotta NOT freak out over the length of the list too. That will be a challenge. But, hey!! I'm up for it!! Just need the right music......Just need to stop and let the fresh air fill my head and lungs.....let the sunlight pour its energy into my pores..... and soon the chestnuts on the open fire will be a delightful activity once again. Bring on Bowie and Bing! This little drummer girl is ready to ratta-tat tat!



Yes, but my spirits are rising......I'm not perseverating on myself. NO! The fire in my soul isn't a fever....it's enthusiasm. I have this urge to make a more clear headed attempt at writing my annual Christmas letter, which up until now was coming out like a dirge rather than a sparkly piece of prose. I have this desire to pull out the old recipes and then pass them onto my daughter to do something with. I WANT to see the gawdy well loved ornament wreath adorning the living room again, and the angels, and holly and jingle bells...... all of a sudden I'm looking forward to the sweat inducing struggle to put up the tree STRAIGHT, to decorate with all of those ornaments my husband and I have been collecting since our wedding day 21 years ago. Each adorned with special meaning.


Please God, let the lights work!





Wow! Could it be the angels we have heard on high, singing sweetly o'er the plains............or simply the accumulated drugs in my system echoing its joyous strains? No! It's the angels dammit! They are singing again. Just in time for a week of Christmas luncheons with friends and colleagues.....and JUST in TIME for this family to get their act together for a our annual open house shindig next Saturday.......just in time to send out cards, get the parcels on a bus to Ontario......just in time to gather with friends to celebrate winter solstice out in beautiful Keswick Ridge......just in time to enjoy the miracle of the birth of the Prince of Peace. Thank God!

Gee, all of a sudden the thought of wearing my party dress is appealing! Bring on the little black dress, I'm up for the dance.

So, where to start? Well, after I make the traditional Sunday breakfast......bacon and pancakes, which I am already doing as I write this....such a multi-tasker am i, am i........ and then go deal with the pen marks recently scribbled on the sofa cushion by an errant puppy (I thought she was on top of Lily's head, not chewing a PEN on the sofa!!).......I will start at my toes and work up. I can always think better when my toenails are painted red. I can sing better too.

I love Sundays. I love this time of year. Let it shine merry and bright. Let us don our gay apparel....and have some fun.




hmmmm, where are those antlers?? I hope the kiddies are game still.... :) The parents always are....