What I want to do when I grow up.........

When you think about the teachers who made a difference in your life, whose manner, messages and presence continues to influence the learning spark inside you,  don't you wonder how they managed to do it?  To be "on" day in and day out in front of a group of people is almost impossible to fathom, and that's what it takes to be the kind of facilitator who inspires students. Their enthusiasm for the subject matter as well as their desire to spark the fire in the hearts and minds of their brood of students must waver from time to time, but somehow they keep it tucked inside while shining on.  Sadly, our educational system is littered with more ho-hums and burn outs than passion.

Every time I step into the classroom to teach, my respect and appreciation for the passionate instructors re-ignites.  It gives me that unique opportunity to stand in their shoes and to recognize just how difficult it would be to engage like that for an extended period of time.  They deserve far more that what we pay them, and earn every single summer day off.

The type of facilitating I'm involved in however is different because it has a short beginning and end, which allows for me to burst with energy rather than find an ebb and flow pace one would need to survive for an extended period of time. In order to be in a classroom every single day, you'd have to find a completely different balance or you would burn out so quickly.  It's been 20 years since I pulled off full time teaching.  I loved it then.  Thrived even.  At that point in my life I was in a much different place in my life...... no children, MUCH younger, less responsibility outside of the classroom.  I wonder if I could pull it off now.  I wonder if I'd like to.  

This is where I am in my thinking tonight as I sit here reflecting on just how exhausted I was at the end of the workday.  For the past two days I taught a program called "Non Violent Crisis Intervention."  It's a "canned" program designed to be delivered exactly how its laid out in a manual.  With the trademark terms and the specific techniques leading the learning, its the kind of training I find the most demanding, because it leaves very little wiggle room to facilitate with the kind of freedom I prefer.  

Usually after I wrap up a workshop I'm pumped. Tired, but pumped.  Instead, I came home tonight completely void of any energy.  I felt used up and wordless..... not a good thing when you have loved ones in your life who deserve more than a person whose only focus is on finding a good comfortable spot on the couch to crash into lalala land.  Ok, I fed them first.  But, I did it in silence.  Then, I crashed.......slept through the early evening time when I should be focus on my family.  

Granted, I'm just getting over a cold and I have so many other thoughts pulsating inside my head vying for my focused attention.  I was also teaching a topic I wasn't too keen on or felt completely competent with the subject matter. Still,  I wonder if I would be up for the challenge of taking on a classroom of learners full time.   It's difficult to say.  As much as I love teaching, the other component one has to consider is how taxing it is on one's freedom. Though the counselling I am involved in on most days is intensely draining and there is little down time, I have control over my schedule. Leading a group of students through a full program is very structured time wise.  Would I be able to surrender those reins at this point in my life?  Would I want to? 

I think I would like my cake and eat it too.  Half time counselling, half time in the classroom.  The way I see it, this combination would be the ideal fit for me.  I could see how it would balance as well as challenge my skills.  OH,  who am I kidding.  If I had my choice?  I'd be rich enough not to have to work full time in any form of structured environment.  I would write, travel, teach when I wanted to, counsel when I wanted to.  And if I wanted to walk endlessly beside the calm tide of a warm body of water, I'd do that too................. Friends and family?  Please join me. :)   The first round of umbrella drinks is on me.

ramblin' through the messes.

My beautiful girlfriends....
strong, resilient, hilarious, brilliant.
not that we have any messes
to talk about or clean up.....
oh no!
we just tell funny upbeat stories ;)

I was driving back to my office after delivering a presentation, Miss Muskie style, thinking about the new connections I had made with a classroom full of human beings who had dropped out of school and had returned to give it a go again. It must reek of failure to them on most days. Hopefully on other days, they look at the ugly building and see it as something they can conquer!

I spent a few minutes or so with them telling a few stories, sharing some crazy bits about me. Then I passed it over to them so I could learn at least a little bit of their personal stories and to find out what kind of information they wanted to gather from my presentation. There's no point standing up in front of any group like a blathering talking head passing out disconnected fluffs of information if there is no engagement with the audience. How boring is that? How rude is that? How typical is that??? Lectures get you nowhere especially when you are in front of a group who tuned out and turned off for that very reason........

When my daughter asked me this morning on the way to dropping her off at school, what I was going to talk about (I was there to give them information about College courses and upgrading options....) I explained the purpose and then told her what my plan was ...... how I would deliver it.... through a conversation .... one which I would set up by sharing a few goofy stories about my time at high school. She looked at me with THAT look she gives me (the same one my husband gives me actually) when she hopes I don't make a complete ass of myself. I reassured her that, YES indeed I would make an ass of myself if it engaged the class and pulled them into a conversation of sharing and asking questions. I don't care. I'm pretty much an open book when it comes to the STUFF I've shared.

This of course alarmed her 16 year old sensibilities even more. So, I dropped the subject and moved onto asking about losing one's virginity. That question didn't get very far. DAMN! It did make her laugh though. Oh, and roll her eyes. It wasn't an off the wall, out of the blue kind of topic, which I am prone to do. No, this random talking momma was simply continuing a conversation which had begun the night before when I was informed of a few teen girls who are preggers at the school, and the conversation my daughter had with one of the future Daddios.

Who. is. 16. and lost .in. the. weird. world. of. make. believe. playing house .in. somekindof. mom. and. dad. drama. Like reality tv. Sadly, he thinks he's going to be able to turn off the channel.

This fantasy is brought to you by unfulfilled love and belonging needs, parents who refuse to let their children take SEX EDUCATION because one does not PROMOTE premarital sex, one PROMOTES abstinence and the idea that our bodies are dirty (by NOT talking about it) so don't be talking about erect penises and where they shouldn't be place ...... , thereby fostering a daughter who doesn't know the basics of intercourse and what to do with all those stirring feelings. This fantasy world is exacerbated by wacky religious rules where A: If you have sex before marriage you will go to hell. and B. Let's fix this fuck up by getting you two little ones married just in case God was a bit busy and didn't see the end product of the backseat rumbling fornication and will let it go. This time. ....And C. You better make it work, because if you divorce you will go to hell too. Good luck......... change your plans, drop your dreams and move on......... Praise be to Jesus.

So, I was merely extending the conversation we began last night. When she jumped out of the car to get the hell away from her crazy ass mother, she was laughing as I was babbling on about the myths of "being on the pill" and got pregnant anyways, or the condom broke. Over my explanation that there has only been one documented immaculate conception, my beautiful daughter told me she loved me, shut the door and scurried off to escape the lunacy left behind the wheel of the van. Off she went. My God, I love her.

And off I went to meet a group of people I expected hadn't fit into the regular system we embrace as public education, knowing a couple of them would most likely be teen moms whose bright innocent faces now had a look of shock and awe on them. Maybe a couple of young dads in there too unable to comprehend anything beyond wanting to escape into the smoke of a doob, a chat room and a few riffs of Guitar Hero. DUDE!

Unfortunately, I was right and eventually spent a couple of hours with a group of students sitting in a semi circle. Their classroom was tucked away in the upper reaches of high school beige fatigue, amongst other classrooms filled with unengaged teens looking everywhere except at their teachers at the front. How do I know this? I glanced in many as I walked towards room number 226. It hit my gut with a vengeance of memories. Oh, how I hated high school. It all came rushing back in a pit of anger as I realized that not one blasted thing had changed since I sat in class lala land dreaming of camp, parties, kissing boyfriends, catching up with girlfriends, weekend ski trips, ANYTHING but the blahblahblah of the talking head at the front of the class. Boredom ruled the day then. Boredom ruled the day today.

I decided to take it up a notch and be as nutty as I could in front of the classroom......... share feelings, ask for feelings. ASK THEM what they are thinking, feeling.......... what they did on the weekend. How are they FEELING being back at school. What kind of jobs would they like to do....... stir, churn, make them squirm a bit. Make them laugh! Offer them a chance to express themselves. Luckily, their teacher was all for it. Hurray!

In the end, there was talk of many different types of training and career options and if they had an idea, I threw three more at them that were similar as an attempt to expand their thinking. They shared their interests and unshaped goals. More importantly, they shared some of what makes them tick. One of them did fall asleep....the one with the youthful baby face very bright red flushed cheeks. I don't think he was feeling well. And even if he was fine, I didn't care if he fell asleep. He obviously needed it. Who the hell knows what he has to contend with on the homefront??? He's in this class for a reason and guaranteed it ain't a pretty story with a happy ending.

On my way back to the office, as I listened to music, I began to think of the messes we fall into as human beings of how our lives are filled with drama, conflict, angst, disorder, excess. Excess in so many areas..... Abuse of all kinds. Unfinished business, unsolved problems. Our coping is maxed out as we turn inward or outward, depending on our style. Big emotional barriers form shielding us from hurt or resolving anything. WE try our best to bury our heads in the sand as the chaos of our lives get messier and more complicated. We lose focus, drop our values, run away, sleep with the first warm body that pays attention. We drop out, crawl under the covers and play the victim. Until...................??

We live in the drama we create. Not that the massive wounds many of us carry as heavy painful burdens are our fault. They aren't for the most part. But, we create the ongoing drama that follows it by trying to avoid healing and forgiving and moving forward. Healing ourselves, forgiving ourselves and others.......... finding resolutions. Finding a way to surrender and soften from the PAIN.

hmmmm. I wonder if many of the messy messes we make are because we are suffering from boredom? Or are we just too numb and need the excitement of the drama?? Or maybe, just maybe we're doing our best coping?

Lives are not pretty for the most part. They are chaotically driven, eventful, emotion full, painful. They are also loving, exhilarating, absolutely STUNNING. Lives brim over with connections, disconnections, crapping times and clapping times. And you know what? The VERY best we can do for ourselves and others is to be open to sharing stories, to listen to the silence between the words shared, to affirm one another, to accept one another and to remind each other that we have the capacity to be happy. Despite the messy messes. Heck, maybe even because of them....

Love to you all........ don't be so DAMN hard on yourself. oh, and can you do me a favour? Share one of your stories with another person tomorrow. Just one. xx

Enjoy your messes ...... embrace the chaos ..... and never forget to laugh it off with a friend.

ps. jeez. I didn't even get to my afternoon or the drama of the evening. :) Oh yeah and tomorrow? I've been asked to confront a bully. My plan? I think I'll bomb her with love and then listen to her stories.

for or against the flow....

Fairness....the word which floats up from the cosmos of my brain this morning. It's one of those concepts which seem to have as many definitions and interpretations as there are people. Or maybe the way its definition is shrouded by one's view of the concept of democracy, or what is considered correct and just. Fairness encompasses justice, integrity, decorum, balance, equality. It seems so straightforward when one simply skims the surface of it. Ah, but it's certainly NOT. We may all strive to accomodate the other meanings, the other layers of what constitutes fairness. Our way of perceiving it is seen through a prism of our own heartfelt emotions, our values and our logic. My logic may look very different than your logic. My logic has a tinge of blue and a smattering of red in it. What colour is yours?

Fairness means that a process is considered soley collaborative. Competition is not in the picture. Or maybe there is fairness within the realm of competition? I mean, someone has to win and someone has to lose in a game and we accept that as fair. But, I can't help but scoff at the times when one starts out in a competition with governing rules about who wins and who loses and then in the middle of the game, the rules change. Is that fair?

Is democracy competitive? Of course it is. Is it fair? hmmmm......On the level headed idealistic thin skinned surface it is, though I don't believe most democratic processes are purely and honestly played out. Strategies and behind the scenes political maneouvering are the norm, some more subtle than others. But, we plebians will never know the kitchen table talk that truly goes on during the course of a hard fought battle for leadership unless we are invited to the table. The way our systems are set up, its obvious the power of a few override the power of the masses. We are fed what they want to feed us in whatever packaging they feel will sell.

We can easily slip into the thinking that there is constant tyranny of the majority, and sometimes there is, but there comes a point when we have to grab hold of something solid and take a leap of faith. The problem is sometimes its damn difficult to figure out when we let something slide and when its time to stand up to the majority. It's mucky when the majority is a veiled version of democracy.......

Or maybe it isn't difficult for you. to figure it out. Maybe you have a clear picture in your head and heart of what is right and wrong....of what you will stand up for and against which drives your actions and in turn drives the decisions you make in your life? That's fair and good on ya if you're clear on this. Most days, I'm jumping back and forth on an issue trying to see the reasoning....

Well, there are some heavy duty deal breakers in my mind....equality, honesty, safety, respect, dignity..... if someone is living under the cloud of terror, whether it is a domestic abuse situation or it is under the constant threat on their lives, where power dictates from a place of hatred and greed, I'm triggered. If there is a brutal bully involved, be it on the local or global playground, fairness becomes a clearcut black and white issue for me as it is most likely for you. HOW it is handled may be different, and this is where fairness gets all cloudy in my mind.

Do you think my definiton of fairness simply comes down to recognizing that my interpretation of "an eye for an eye" is different than someone elses?

And then there is the whole side of this longwinded thought.....will i just think about what is and isn't FAIR and ruminate on it until the cows come home? Will I bark out my opinions and bellow at the moon over the unfairness of whatever event/situation/issue turns my cranky crank? OR will I step up to the plate and ACT? Am I a victim or am I a player? Will I sit on the sidelines cheering or booing or will I take the leap out of the stand, grab the ball and run??? What sparks my butt to get up and take it on?? And if I do take it on, can I be fairminded enough to see the underlying manifestations of someone else's motivation? Fairness is a compromising balance of striving for reconciliation isn't it?

Whether I decide to step up to the trough without thinking about what's for dinner, that's my individual choice to make. However, if I want to be "in the game..."..... if I want to "play...." I have to be cognizant of the fact that all is never what it appears to be and in accepting that, I have to figure out which hills we fight over or we'll spread ourselves too thin. Too thin and my anorexic approach to tackling something meaningful to me is useless. I wouldn't have the strenth to stand up to what I honestly believe is right or wrong, immoral, unethical, promising, hopeful, inhumane, evil if we aren't aware of the issues and how they impact our values. And, if I'm aren't aware of our values, I am soaked in a brine that leaves life limp and salty. Who the heck wants limp and salty?

Sometimes I read something on a blog and it broadens my thinking on a subject which may be burning a hole right through the heart of the author and perhaps I havent really put my time or energy into understanding the issue....or I had been locked in my own opinion. This happens most often when I read a piece where the owner of the opinion has taken the time to lay out their argument in their own words using their own passion. I may not agree with their "take" on an issue, but I can at least appreciate their candor.

Its easy to pluck a news story or a video and paste it on ones blogsite disguised as a personal post. I tend to avoid those heavy handed political blathering blogs. They aren't interested in discourse with anyone who may question their stance. Their opinion on fairness is clearly drawn in the dirt with the message that their way or the highway is the only way. Don't see it their way, you suck, you're wrong and you don't count. See it their way and you can join the circle jerk. Yes, I avoid those barking blogs because whatever argument comes to the forefront is smattered with personal "your mother wears army boots," jibes. Who needs to spend time with someone even if its in cyber land who simply is looking for a cheap fight?? I see no fairness or equity in that approach. It just reeks of bad breath.

In all that is fair....? They choose to use their cyber-platform as they wish. I choose to move on. It's the same as the choices I make with respect to my overall learning. Important to note on many levels, because what i choose to learn is smothered by my interests, my life situation, my values, my upbringing, opportunities, access....etc, etc.....

So we pick and choose our "battles" based on our passions and personal experiences, sometimes clouding our ability to see how another is perceiving the fairness of situation or at the governmental level, of how a direction was decided upon. It's the same at the street level where decisions are made that impact us personally. Fair? Democratic? Am I right and you're wrong? Are you right and I'm wrong? Is fairness ever monochromatic? It really gets bogged down into the paralyzing core of political correctness doesn't it?

Am I confusing the hell out of you, as I am myself?? Is it even fair to ask these questions? Sorry, I have been in the car a heck of a lot this week and consequently the convoluted permutations and vascillations have wreaked havoc..... eeek!

Fairness......its a fundamental concept we try to teach our children at a very young age, often starting out as measured equality and broadening out with parameters and rules to guide it. It's a concept we continue to struggle with through the prism of our moral reasoning which is layered by how we learn how to see the world, what we hold dear to our ethical fabric, what is impacted us personally, and what we have learned. Fairness is the underpinning of our values. It is what gets our blood and juices flowing. It is an everchanging kaleidescope impacted by the experiences we step out and into, by what we feed it through our learning. It is as complicated to figure out as it is simple to establish. It drives our notions of democracy and has the capacity to allow us to walk a mile in someone elses shoes....... OR it can be a deal breaker in the eyes of someone who is not willing to focus beyond their line in the dirt.

gee, and to think this little word....this little concept came to mind when I was trying to figure out if it was fair that I didn't get that job...... hmmmm, that's a bit of confessional self absorption isn't it? ....... I guess when I try to look at it from another side, it was fair in someone's eyes. :) And if I look at it another way, the experience left me with much to think about. that's a fair trade i guess. ;)

Remembering John O'Donahue

May you be blessed with good friends.
May you learn to be a good friend to yourself.
May you be able to journey to that place in your soul where
there is great love, warmth, feeling, and forgiveness.
May this change you.
May it transfigure that which is negative, distant, or cold in you.
May you be brought in to the real passion, kinship, and affinity of belonging.
May you treasure your friends.
May you be good to them and may you be there for them:
may they bring you all the blessings, challenges, truth
and light that you need for your journey.
May you never be isolated.
May you always be in the gentle nest of belonging with your
anam cara.
John O'Donahue, Anam Cara.

I never met John O'Donahue and it was only a year and a half ago when I was introduced to his writing. But, the moment I first read a quote, I was struck by his poetic light touch beauty and hungered for more.....and hoped I would have a chance to hear him speak with the same lyrical timbre as his written words sung out to me. What I had read of Father O'Donahue intrigued me.....he seemed like a man who encompassed both an outward exhuberance and an inward reverence to life. Introspectively comfortable living in his beloved Connemara, I also got the sense that he thrived surrounded by the love and belonging of a circle of friends sipping on gold. His sudden death a year ago brought these friends as well as everyone who had been touched by his writing, his seminars, his interviews, his presence to their knees. Grief wept....


If I was asked to identify one person who made the most impact on me spiritually in 2008, it would most definately be this gentle man. His untimely death prompted me to re-evaluate my personal goals. The lessons I have gleaned reading his books have strengthened my acuity, my awareness of the many layers of faith we have the opportunity to travel to.

His words are never far away from my fingertips....the books already frayed and dog-eared from frequent dipping into the drink of his beautiful voice, travel with me as companions. Every time I randomly open one of them, I feel like I've journeyed into a place where thinness and eternity are possiblities....



Inspiring, thought provoking, lovingly holy..... a gift to many. Today on the anniversary of his death, I stop and recognize a man who continues to smile down on us all...... Shine on Father, shine on.....


A 2004 interview with John O'Donahue from the CBC radio show, Tapestry rebroadcasted last winter. I encourage you to sit back and have a listen.......

a stroll inside a system.

There's always a reason or two or three why someone has found themselves living on social assistance. It's not a lifestyle choice, though it can easily turn into a lifestyle. Once someone has walked through the door of the welfare office, which is recognized as the last stop at the end of the road for financial help, and finds out they qualify for assistance, the longer they remain on and IN the system the harder it is to get off. It's a big black hole of dependence. It's like the scene in Alice in Wonderland where she keeps falling and falling through the rabbit hole, only there isn't a tea party at the end of the drop. Rather, it leads to a maze which seems to have one dead end after another, all made more complicated by the distorting mirrors which reflect shame, guilt and fear. It takes such emotional strength to figure out how to exit successfully before depression, desolation and dependence sets in. It ain't Wonderland like Alice's. Its more like Wretched Wonderland.

There is no room to look at someone's situation at face value though the way things are set up with a shrinking number of people working in the frontlines that's the typical approach. A one line summing up of why someone is receiving a paltry monthly cheque from the government in order to survive doesn't cut it. As far as I'm concerned the word "lazy" is a four letter one. It could be that their outward behaviour appears to be lazy-like, but the internal churnings, the conflicts behind the actions spell out a very different description of what is really going on. I have always believed and will continue to believe that "being on welfare" is the least of the worries....... "being on welfare" is a symptom of internal angst. If we are to ever really and truly help the human beings who are able to lift up and out of the system once and for all, we need time to respectfully connect, engage, interact, understand, encourage, listen, listen, listen and guide them ONE AT A TIME out of the wretchedness. And for the people who simply need to remain receiving assistance, they need our support and comforting and understanding.


If one wants to help someone pull themselves up from the mucky mire, one has to help them unravel their feelings and let them tell their story. It's the only way out...... it is the map to figuring out how to get out of the maze. What makes it complicated is that the map contours are different for everyone. How to interpret it is an individually driven process. Sure there are generalizations that can be applied. It is a known fact that the majority of people who end up sitting across from someone like me is suffering from depression. Even knowing that and helping someone recognize this is not enough, especially if the person is a part of a family or community who have historically been linked to the social welfare system for years.


It takes time and a willingness on both sides of the interactive partnership to dig deep to find the reasons behind the circumstances.....It takes time to sift through to figure out where the fear and the emotional pain dwell in their souls. The map always has the same destination.......if you take the time to read it together.


I look for signs of motivation.....the brute determination, the fire in the belly, the hope behind the words and expressions as markers on the person's personal map to help me see if there is a readiness to move forward and I point it out to them. I look for signs of emotional turmoil, usually shared in a story or two that have floated up to the top of the conversation like buoys bobbing in the open harbour of thoughts. I look for the fear...........the rope wrapped around the burdened statements that begin with the words "BUT," "I Can't,"............or in the eyes which spell out hesitation, loss, unknown..........sometimes even hidden behind the self deprecating humour thrown out in the conversation. Sometimes is is caught up in the back of the throat recognized in a whispered feeling between the words. These are at the crux of why someone simply can't get unstuck from the muck that is their life.



The other day, I met with a very young mother in her home. I wanted to see her environment. I was curious about how she interacted with her toddler. Outward appearances, she seemed to have everything in place to grab hold of life.....her health, some supportive family around her, an education to build from. Her daughter was well care for and obviously the two of them had a close bond. This young woman was a beautifully well dressed smiling human being who giggled a lot, and only gave me short answers with no depth. She had NO idea what she wanted to do with her life.........or so she said. She also seemed to have no desire to engage in a deeper conversation with me. This had been her pattern with others in the frontlines, and it made her appear lazy, unmotivated, dismissive, haughty. It made her look like she was only keen to stay far away from responsibility or any self directed independence.


Reality had been pointed out to her.......in accusational words many times and it only made her more unresponsive. Confrontation wrapped up in the voice of parental authority was not the ticket,.....it never is, but for the most part it seemed as though this is how her life and our system treated her. Either she was "saved" by an enabler, or she was "scolded" by a system. Her own feet had never found their walking shoes. Her own ability to be an adult, to think and feel like an adult and to demand to be treated as one wasn't recognized nor encouraged.


This is where I steered the raft of our first meeting...........adult to adult conversation, through my own self disclosure of what it has been like to be a Mom, to be undecided. I shared little snippets of me and spoke to her as one woman to another despite the fact that she was young enough to be my daughter. It was important to level that playing field. No one reacts well to a judgemental "parent" barking at you. Surface talk to begin with.....and that's alright because it's on the surface where we must begin building a rapport and the trust to mine the wounds, the fears, the trepidations which are the ropes around her burdens. She doesn't want to be on welfare. No one does. Many can't get out and get off the dole for many serious reasons........ but I know this one can. It's what I shared with her......


As I watched and interacted with her daughter while lobbing questions towards the young woman as a way to level the playing field......as a way to assess the feelings behind the words spoken and the body language....... she doesn't know what she really wants to do........ that's fine, that's fine...... most people really don't know either...... I tried to get under her skin........to see through her eyes..... and as we grappled with the first of hopefully many conversations, I wondered if perhaps she thought that once she made a career decision it was set in stone. The career she chooses would be THE path she would HAVE to take for...the...rest...of....her.....life....

How daunting! Not REALLY knowing if this may be one of the obstacles to making any decisions and remaining stuck, I lob it out.......



"Do you know that most people have 5 or 6 or ever 20 different careers by the time they retire??What usually happens is that once you get started, you realize you have broader interests and different skills than you realize........or sometimes the labour market changes and the job you have been trained to do doesn't exist," I remark. "That's what happened to me. I moved here after graduating in a field where i specialized in working with babies or working in a school system to help kids who are struggling with the work or with just fitting in. I always thought I would be surrounded by kids. But, it never really happened."



I see that I have her attention, though she is still appearing to focus on her daughter. Her body language tells me different.......so I continue..... "I have found another path, and one that keeps changing.........but it is a path where I get to work with adults and sometimes I get a chance to meet 2 year olds and play with them too. I fought it for a long time.....kept trying to find THE job for me in the school system or in early intervention and when I was finally offered one, I turned it down because I realized I LOVE working with adults. I can be more real."
"There are so many things that can affect the decisions we make OR don't make and life just happens to force us to go another route.....even where we end up living. It makes a big difference in our options. Babies sure make you think differently don't they?? I couldn't believe how much my life changed when I had children.......most of the time it's great, but some of the time it feels like such a burden and I don't feel like I have any freedom."


She laughs and agrees, but doesn't share........not too much......but it's all there, just under the surface.


"I think many people feel a big amount of pressure to figure it out with the belief that once the decision is made, there's no turning back. That's why we were given the gift of reflection. We are always assessing and reflecting on our decisions, on our past and wondering about our futures. But, a decision can always be altered, dropped, or even expanded on. Isn't that the right of females to change their mind??" She laughs....



I stop my perambulating thinking out loud approach and she responds..... "I do feel pressured. I have a lot of things going on in my life......."



There it is......the offering....one of the buoys bobbing in the harbour. I don't have a clue what is happening in her life, what she is struggling with. Yet. But, for the first time, a glimmer that perhaps she will trust me enough to spill a little of her internal churnings is seen. Good.


"Why don't we meet again in a week.....maybe in my office where we can have some privacy and you can share some of what your struggling with."


"OK".......she says smiling........


Before I know it, I'm back in my car on my way to another appointment. I don't have a clue how long it will take to help this young woman find her way out of the rabbit hole. It's completely up to her to make the decisions, and to do the hard reflecting work. It will be up to her to take the steps forward. I can't take them for her. I can't carry her. Besides, she's had too much carrying. She needs to learn how to fish in the harbour and provide for herself and her daughter. Can she do it? Will she? It'll take time.......... but I'm guessing she just may figure it out. I want to be there when she catches her first big fish.

One at a time............out of the muck.

wolves dressed wrong

No doubt about it, we live in a hierarchical world. Authority reigns, even in the most democratic of societies. Some of this is needed in order to maintain lawful, political and societal order, and some is complete and utter balderdash.

Authority when it is tainted by power hungry control seeking individuals hellbent on using their position to fearmonger can be seen in boardrooms, gymnasiums, legislative assemblies, at the market, in families, in schools.......heck it can happen anywhere you find a group of people who have relinquished their own ability to critically think. It's easier to allow someone else to make decisions, and to tell us what to do. Its easier to pass the baton onto someone who will espouse their opinions and interpretations of world affairs, of religious doctrine, of the equation which consists of how life should be lived or how a certain task should be completed...............my way or the highway they insist. Given how it can feel to be walking down that lonesome highway, people choose to do things someone else's way.

Authority takes itself too seriously and often evolves into believing the diatribe it spins out. There's an old story about a priest who was praying in a church while a group of children loudly played outside. The priest couldn't concentrate and became frustrated with the ongoing noise that he went outside and told the children that a big monster was seen down by the shoreline. He described the monster in great detail which intrigued the children. Off they went, excited to see the monster. Along the way, they repeated the priest's story to anyone who would listen. Because the story was told by the man who was considered an authority figure......he rang the bell of truth didn't he???...... everyone completely took it as fact. Why, it was inconceivable that the priest would lie. Before too long, hundreds of villagers were running down to the shore to see the monster.

In no time, a group of enthusiastic people popped into the church to tell the priest about this amazing monster they had heard about. Then they headed out the door and down to the shore.....along with the priest! Even though he was the one who completely fabricated the story, and cognitively KNEW it was a lie, the priest was swept up with the possibility that there truly was a monster. Amazing how one can be accepting of the craziest ideas!

People in authority have the capacity to convince themselves of even the most ludricrous falsehoods. It is an intoxicating mistress who alluringly wraps her legs around truth. Faith that stands on authority and uses its self-projected importance to sermonize in disguise alters the fabric of free expression. Whether its from a pulpit, a podium or a panel, authority gone awry frightens the masses into believing that their word is the way. Judgement is a one way street with this type of authority.



Interestingly, an effective leader never demands to stand on podium or a pulpit to speak from. They may use one, but they respectfully know that all beings govern their own actions and encourage them to protect their own rights and abilities. Effective leaders applaudingly welcome new thought, not shoot it down. They are not afraid to be challenged or questioned.

Is their anything more harming for a community than living under the guise of respect based on fear?

I will rise up.

Go if you must go

Turn if you must turn away

Don't cry a tear for me

Laugh if you can smile

Run if you're walking away

Don't cry a tear for me

Shout if you can speak

Sing if you mention my name

Don't cry a tear for me

Low in the valley,

stand in the wind and the rain

High on the mountain,

see the sun shining again

Shout if you can speak

Sing when you mention my name

Don't cry a tear for me

So go if you must go

Turn if you must turn away

Don't cry a tear for me.

Lyle Lovett.

A beautiful haunting song of stripped down bare boned vulnerability tucked away on a collection of spiritually driven orchestrations. From the CD, Lyle Lovett and His Large Band. One of my favourites. Lovett always surprises me with his ability to touch the chord of his faith. His song, I Will Rise Up is as moving in its "Large Band" intensity as is this ballad which he sings alone with his guitar.

His beauty shines on......

air awareness.........

There's an hilarious scene in Fawlty Towers when Manuel is underneath the counter in the hotel lobby. The old Colonel comes into the lobby only to find a moosehead staring at him. Manuel begins talking and the Colonel who can't see him, replies to the assumed talking moose.......commenting to it that it can speak English well.........Manuel replies......."Yes, I know English. I learned it from a boooooooooook."

Good to know moose can learn the English language from a boooooooook.

If I was to describe my cooking prowess, I would say I'm a slapdash kind of kitchen princess. Though I enjoy reading cookbooks and new recipes for ideas, I rarely go by the full recipe, unless of course it's when I'm making jam or baking. Then, I know I can't mess around with the details. I've learned that the hard way. However, all other dishes are "miss muskiefied".....a few extra spices, an elimination of certain items.........mad dashes, sponteneous stirrings. I've never been one to follow the rules.....

I can learn some things from a book, but the offbeat rule breaking me tends to go off the batter beater path....... I'll read about a new way of doing something, or looking at the world.........I'll find myself lost in a beautiful poem, my eye will catch on a phrase that sticks to my inner teflon.......I can learn new theories, information, techniques.......but when it comes to really learning, it has to be absorbed, synthesized and put into my own words. It has to be tried and applied.

Most important things you can't learn from a book anyways.....

like love.

like loving.

like what its like to be in love.

like what its like to feel loved.

like the pain of love.

Do you remember when big love zoomed into your life like a bolt out of the blue, bringing with it the big night sky fireworks of possibility? Kaboom! Zip! Zing! The sky fills with showering outbursts of light and colour. LOVE. When it happens in all it's glory, it hits you right in the sweet spot, where destiny awaits to be discovered. Sleep alludes you. It's like you were injected with effervescence that opens up your eyes, opens up yourself to wild bubbly gulps of champagne. The best champagne.

Maybe the way I see and feel it is very different than you?

You can't learn that from a book. Its not academic.........it's not cerebral. Its a rolling thunder of yearnings and desires unique to each of us. It's a give and take onslaught of personal wants and needs. How can you really understand it simply from reading about it? How can you really get over it either by reading it in a book? And yet, the self help industry flourishes...........and feeds our quest for awareness and understanding. I may be able to learn how to make gazpacho, or some fancy schmancy dessert by scouring the pages of the Joy of Cooking......, but when it comes to the recipe for living? When it comes to seeking answers about the important things in life?

You gotta live it..................do it, be it, feel it.............and figure it out......a nose in a book trying to memorize the steps of life and love? You can swallow the essence of the idea, the poem, the feeling that you're not alone in this vast and magnificent world........but it always comes down to kneeling to the beauty of a feeling heart.

My kitchen time when I'm messing with the spices and ingredients, is when I feel comfortable letting my thoughts and feelings flow. But, by far my favourite place to reflect, to plan, and to feel is sitting on a dock (or a beach) dangling my feet in the water and listening to the grace-full sounds of life around me, inhaling the simmering spices of the spirit and learning to understand how to breathe again. One invisible breath at a time. Because, it is in the air we breathe where we find our own unique recipes for all the big things in life which are not found in a boooooook.

ps. the essence of this post was found in the spiritual wisdom gracenotes of John O'Donahue's anam cara.......i highly recommend it. :)

clarity captured in the fog

Loneliness surrounds the sound of a foghorn, off in the distance........heard but unseen. It pulls you into a feeling of mysterious uncertainty, its sound wavering in the air as it moves through the cocoon of clouds which have touched the earth. It's difficult to gain your bearings to know precisely where it is echoing from. Hidden in the fog mask, the spooky call haunts thoughts, and pulls at the chords of our own fears, beckoning them to reveal themselves in the density of the surrounding air.

I love foggy nights in Spencer's Island, Nova Scotia.......the place where my mother in law grew up and continued to spend summers surrounded by her family and friends............loving the foggy days too. It was something we had in common. I love watching it roll in with the tide lapping up the beach......enveloping the homes and buildings tucked into the hill close to the shore. They are a common occurance because the air and tides mix beautifully to make this natural blanketing happen. Peripheral sounds are muffled leaving the more important ones heightened and heard in between the foghorn blasts.

_____

Early evening around a campfire in June, I was surrounded by my family and some good friends whom we hadn't seen since last summer. The tides had rolled in and out many times bringing in the flotsam of life leaving stark realities and a few precious moments both of which we have learned from and taking away time and a layer of innocence. We caught up while sipping on wine and embracing our short visiting time together. We cling to these sparse life moments when winter forces the distance between them. As we mingled, some standing away from the fire, and some sitting in lawn chairs close to the flames, we marvelled at the expansive vista down from the cliff we are situated overlooking the beach and bay.......... a feast for the tired eyes.

I find it the most meaningful on the first and last glance of the season.........

As the fog rolled in, the air became more and more chilled.........one at a time people left to go inside to warm up taking their conversations with them......... until I am left alone. I stoked the fire, pulled my chair closer and listened to the faraway familiar sound of the foghorn while staring at the flames rising from the red embers. It's a mesmerizing flamenco dance of leaping flames. The sparks escaping from the tips of the dancing flames and float up into the dark freedom until they disappeared into the fog. In between the call of warning, when silence settles into the cadence of the crackling fire, I felt an unexpected welling of emotions stirring in a place where the past and the present meet.

I realized right then in a split second moment that I wasn't alone after all. I looked up and around and saw the vacated chairs pulled up to the firepit........and felt the presence of a past generation mingling on their own. My mother in law, Mim, my father in law, George (aka Buzzie)...........Mim's brother Max and his wife Patty. They too had spent many evenings together sitting around campfires on the beach in Spencer's Island during youthful courting, continuing on into adulthood while their own children grew up together learning life lessons and accumulating remember whens......a campfire circle of life set against the tidal pull.

I could hear them talking..................not their words, just the sound of their voices captured by the fog, pulled in by the tide. Every once in a while I could hear the realness of Uncle Max's laugh, the higher pitch of Aunt Patty's Cape Breton cadence. I could hear Buzzie's ever present charisma and Mim laughing at something...........her wit and her sense of humour always spicy...........like her family name.............Spicer.........

It all felt very real and connected to the threads families weave. I remembered past conversations with Mim about how she felt when she returned to open up the old house every summer...........how she always felt the presence of her own parents and it made me wonder if she felt a cocooning sense of the past always while living in her childhood home, while walking down paths and roads she had travelled with a stick in hand as a kid.

I wondered what memories she revisited whenever she unpacked a picnic lunch while settling into a familiar cove with a group of old friends who also returned in the summer with their broods............or when she stood for an hour in the raspberry patch behind the house cleanly picking the juicy berries for pies and jelly making? Did her ancestors visit often? I think they did. And now, she has joined them, along with many from her generation to visit us........to visit me, bringing the past into the present.

It flooded me with memories of when they were all there in body and not just spirit though it was always spirited. Certain beach suppers filtered through my thoughts.......the time Uncle Max cooked up a mess of lobster back in his maple sugar camp and brought them to us on the beach to dive into.........the time when we journeyed to Spicer's Cove where the sand is finely ground and sticks to salty wet feet and your the bum of your pants that is settled into an own made divoted spot............the infamous Sunday brunch that turned into a long leisurely gathering that went well into the evening..........the time when Buzzie dressed up in tails and tophat found in the attic to join us for cooked hotdogs over an open fire......and the real dogs.........all the family dogs hovering around him because he was the one who would ALWAYS sneak them a bite. he could NEVER walk away from the sad mournful eyes of his canine companions.

The past and present woven together touching the space all around me........a space of fog and smoke..........a space where the fire sends out sparks into the night.........a space where the silence of the foghorn opens a window onto familiar lives, familiar sounds clear as a sunny day.

The human eye sees the empty chairs sitting in the fog. The spirit eye sees it very differently. The human ear hears the loneliness of the foghorn streaking through the clouds settled on the surface. But the spirit ear hears the hum of grace caught in the blanket of human connections, both past and present. In this one otherworldly moment while sitting seemingly alone in the tidal air mist, I was left with a sense that I had been given a glimpse into the vast holiness of infinity.

I realized that this is the one place in the whole world where I can learn the meaning of it from the eternal ebb and flow of ancestral life and death and life and death......and of passing it on...... I also realized that this is the very reason why it will be difficult to walk away completely from a home filled with generations of building fires together. The old house and the property is now in flux. We don't have legal access to it while the estate matters are incomplete. And, when it is, we have decided that it will be necessary to walk away from it for many unresolvable reasons.

But, if this is where infinity dwells, it will always be there to slip back into another time. The homefires will always be welcoming........in time.

ecouter, s'il vous plait.

Two more days and schools out for the summer. FREEDOM!!

However, not one elementary school teacher in this province will be leaving for a much deserved rest knowing what grade level or even what school they will be working in come September. They are forced to hold their breath, books and belongings and wait...........until the magic date of August 5th. That's when our illustrious and eternally bull-headed Education Minister will pull together 6 weeks of (insert sarcasm )well considered judicially enforced feedback from concerned voters only to announce that he will continue with his plan of scrapping the french immersion program as well as the daily french lessons children in the English program receive from Grade 1 on in this province. Instead, every single kid entering Grade 5 will be funneled into an intense french immersion program (to be developed, tested and implement between August 5th and September 2nd.) no matter what their personal learning levels reveal.

After that? Who knows?? The kids have a choice to enter middle school in an English stream or carry on in French immersion?

It's all a bit murky....but be prepared for a cold water dunk in the Bay of Fundy. That's how it's going to feel. An immersion into a whole new delivery of curriculum by teachers who pride themselves on their hard work in the preparation and implementation......who won't have a moment to catch their breath while they move and groove to the new twists thrown at them LESS THAN A MONTH before the first day of school, all in the name of being perceived as proactive. Despite today's Ombudsman report indicating that the public engagement or lack thereof was the worst example ever witnessed, Minister Lamrock has dismissed the recommendation of putting any changes off for a year in order to consider other avenues, in order to give the "system," particularly the Principals and teachers some breathing room. Why?? Methinks this has to do with the timing when another election would be looming and all that political silly stuff..........so much for long term visioning.

What's the rush? What's one more year in the bargain basement??

Quality of Learning my ass. ooops, sorry wrong party. Kids Come First........uhuh.....there we go. Kids Come First. And based on my reading and listening of the Minister's speeches since the onset of this cabinet, including the speeches and media comments (oh and personally written emails) targetted at the parents concerned when he decided to rip Albert Street school, nestled in the heart of the city, in arms reach of community programs, university student tutors, and many other amenities to learning, he knows best. Yes, the "father" of our children in this province knows best...........dripping in sincerity it was too. Who gives a flying fig in the process of public consultation when it's obvious that the answers are already known??

In all my sincerity, the approach of this man and the lack of process he followed in his heavy handed manner has completely stripped him of trust and integrity. Humble isn't in the picture here despite a scathing report. Today, he had the audacity to once again dismiss the "people's" representative, basically told Monsieur Richard to piss off because as the "apostle" of education, Monsieur Lamrock knows better because he speaks for the poor neglected children who all seem to be orphaned by parents unable to consider what is best for their own children. It's a slap in the face.

And guess what? Here's the kicker!! I AGREE with his recommendations except I believe french should be taught as a subject starting in Grade 1. Big changes have to be made. French immersion isn't working as it should. Children ARE dropping out of the program in record numbers when they enter high school. Bilingualism is not being met upon graduation. Our assessment scores nationally sit in the bottom of the barrel. Our overall provincial literacy and numeracy scores are still appalling compare to other provinces. (however the testing process is also a complete mess and comparing our test results with that of Alberta or Ontario is like comparing apples to orangutans........AND THAT is most definately another subject for another time). Our school systems DO need an overhaul. Streaming is most definately a problem. So is the fact that we have a multi-tiered delivery of subjects, where some areas don't even have access to french language training (or other really really important subjects for that matter)

What I cannot ignore or not comment on is the fact that fairness was neglected and respect was completely thrown out with the used duotangs and pencil stubs. Our teachers need our respect and support. Our teachers deserve our respect and support and if they are flailing under the stress of implementing the brainfart of a group of individuals who don't know how to follow a democratic process, then we need to speak out on their behalf. Are you hearing any of them voice their concerns and personal anxieties? NO! You know why?? They have been TOLD to be quiet!! Can you imagine?? They aren't speaking out because they have been told they aren't allowed to. Unbelievable.

We place HUGE expectations on the teachers, support staff AND the principals who pursue their calling working with our young ones at the elementary school level because of the importance of developing the solid foundation for lifelong learning. Their jobs are not for the faint of heart, and they aren't doing it for the money! Excellent teachers work beyond the end of school bell ringing. They put in long hours, and deal with many many issues outside of the realm of their vocation. They deserve the respect of the Minister of Education. They deserve to express their expert opinions, and to have the proper time to be able to accomodate any changes expected of them.

If this debacle turns into a reality on August 5th, WHO are the people who will suffer the most? The children! Kids Come First?? Can someone please explain to me what this means?

mentoring.........

Yesterday, I had a quick conversation with the student intern who is working with me about the development of a counselling relationship. Normally our conversations are much longer, but we were tight for time and it was the end of the day..............one that had begun for me in the wee hours of the morning due to time changes and jet lagness and whizzed by with many tasks and several drop ins from friends and colleagues to hear about my trip and to find out about my husband's health (which is improving by the minute btw).

My student intern has been hanging with me for a month or so and I've been thoroughly enjoying working with him...........teaching a bit, assessing a bit.....learning A LOT....but mostly enjoying our time together getting to know one another. This is what is so cool about counselling...........in order to develop your skills, you have to be open to being open.........you have to be able to be reflective as you continue to hone the craft of engaging with others.

This is his first foray into the frontlines after much time in the classroom learning theories and discussing the process. Now, he's getting his feet wet...............seeing how the theories apply in real life.........learning how challenging it can be to encourage someone to share their stuff, observing me and now taking some of the lead. I asked him today to compare how he felt two weeks ago before he had experienced his own counselling sessions with people, to now. And lovely Nolan answered the question with reflective grace.

He told me that two weeks ago, he was feeling much more comfortable in the internship.......... taking a bit of a back seat observing and conversing with me on a cognitive level. He was keen to challenge himself by taking the helm but now was feeling very uncomfortable and a bit out of his depth. I smiled and nodded..................told him that is EXACTLY where he needed to be! It's where learning crosses paths with our yearnings and desires to stretch ourselves.

It's so easy to sit back and observe from the sidelines. But to really get a taste for life, especially in the trenches of the frontlines, one has to jump right in there knowing full well that you'll NEVER in a million years be able to second guess and plan and prepare for the unknown that is bound to pop up when interacting with another person. And I know this is why he has chosen this field. It fits his personal make up..................his effervescent curiosity.........his ongoing churning in his mind. He's completely up to the challenge and like all seekers and learners, is willing to feel a bit of insecurity along the way.

Counselling is not something you can teach someone to do. Sure you can provide the theoretical frameworks, and you can even demonstrate the various techniques. You can offer insight into better communication techniques too. But, the true ingredient of counselling is found in the soul.

What I am loving right now as a mentor for a very gifted soul full person who has chosen a calling and the right one at that, is the time I get to spend talking............we have formed a wonderful rapport. He has brought to me a chance to evaluate my own chosen calling again at a time when I think I needed to touch base with why it is what I love to do.

I've been very lucky in my life to have had a few really good mentors along the way..........people who have taken the time with me to guide and to listen........my role now as the guide continues to offer up many opportunities to relearn, to challenge, and to personally feel the keen discomfort of the learning process. Can't wait to see where the rest of this internship leads. One thing I'm certain of is that counselling and teaching is what i love to do, and it is what i am meant to do.

"Everything depends on the lens you use.

Make your gaze beautiful. "

John O'Donahue

the mystery of transformation

“Martin Buber defines a miracle as an event that instills us with a feeling of “abiding astonishment”. The experience of being lost is the shadow side of experiencing something miraculous: both are bewildering, both transformative. Over time, if we are sensitive and perceptive, we will come to view all of life with a sense not of shock but of wonder. With wisdom we will shed our doubts and fears, regardless of the challenges or hardships we must confront. We will welcome the adventure. For it is life itself, with all its ambiguity and mystery, that is the hidden miracle – overlooked, omnipresent, waiting to be discovered and explored.”

a quote from the book Lost Souls, by Niles Goldstein

There are so many events in life which take a great deal of fortitude to reach the point where we can think of them with a sense of wonder. Or maybe I'm being too narrow in my own definition of wonder and astonishment because I tend to associate these feelings with positive experiences filled with smiling joy or surprising revelation. Could astonishment and wonder be applied to the other more serious and sometimes tragic events in our lives? After all, it is life too isn't it?



When we are confronted by a tragic death or a life altering accident our lives are tossed into an abyss, a lost soul solstice where time seems to standstill and meaning is out of reach. Surprised, confused and full of questions starting with "why??" Astonishment is defined as something unexpected which produces an emotional state. We shake our heads and proclaim......

"I don't believe it......."



"Is this really true?"



"I'm so surprised that this happened."



"Why??"



These statements are reiterated whether the event is lottery winning amazing or life altering devastating. Both are bewildering. Both are transformative. One is a feeling of experiencing a miracle. The other is a feeling of experiencing a sense of being lost. Our grounding is altered by both.

A few years ago, I had the pleasure of a meeting a woman whose son was born with severe disabilities. His level of functioning was comparable to an infant. There were no explanations as to why this happened. It just did. Her son, who required 24 hour care, who was completely dependent on his family, especially his mother whose life changed from career person to full time caregiver right at the moment of his birth, had just turned 18.

For all of those years, the Mom rarely left his presence because his needs were unique and complicated. With no extended family in the area and for some reason no real assistance from community social services, it fell on this boy's parents to figure it out. His Dad remained the primary breadwinner. His Mom remained home. His little sister who was able bodied and full of dance steps never knew family life like her friends. As much as her parents tried to accomodate, and attempt to find the attention balance one strives for when siblings are involved, the little sister's needs sometimes had to take a backseat. Always.

When this young man was well enough, he could attend school with a full time caregiver though rarely had there been a week when he was able to attend for 5 days in a row. Hospitalizations were too numerous to count, but a few were made more memorable when this family clung onto the ledge of hope wondering if he was going to survive. As I listened to the stories, the horrors and stress of ongoing medical interventions, of never ending advocating......of sleepless nights when their son was awake for days on end, a habit which continues to this day...... I wondered how a family comes to terms with such a burden.

I've wondered this throughout my career.........

I spent two hours with this woman in her living room listening to her family's story of how the birth and life of her son impacts every component of their story. I was there to complete a social/home assessment so that I could write up their application for disability certification and consequent social assistance for her son who qualified when her turned 18.

Her son at the time was sound asleep, and not stirring at all. He had been awake for days and had just fallen asleep for the first time. This is the norm for this family. It turned out to be good timing on my part because it gave the mom freedom to spill her fatigue, her worries, and to share with me how she and her husband went from astonishment and feeling utterly lost to a sense of gratitude and calm acceptance to how their lives are unfolding.

They have had 18 years to process it all.

And yet, I wondered if by telling me her story she was still trying to convince herself that there was much to be grateful for. I mean, this woman was trapped.....that's how I perceived it. She had no freedom. The very idea of going to the hairdressers or to the YMCA for a workout was a monumental task. She has had to compromise, give up, accomodate, adjust, assimilate throughout every waking and sleeping moment of motherhood.

After she finished sharing and I finished asking questions.....she asked me if I wanted to meet her son, assuring me that he wouldn't wake up if we went into his bedroom. He was sleeping that deeply. So, we went into his darkened room and i went right over to the large crib like bed where he sleep soundly. I leaned in and held his fingers while he was relaxed in his dreams. Then, I turned my focus back to his Mom who was watching me and her son.

What I saw on her face was my answer to how someone overcomes the feeling of burden in a situation like that.

Love. Unconditional love. Untarnished, uncomplicated, unending love.

What I witnessed made my knees buckle at the intensity of the love melting on this woman's face. When she witnessed her son, she witnessed beauty in a way that felt spiritual. Never before or after have I been privy to this wonderful moment.

Now, after reading this quote, I recognize what I witnessed as astonishment transformed from a shadow of lost to welcoming the mystery of the adventure as a miracle. This woman had figured it out.

And I am a little closer to understanding.

Thank you Katie for sending me the quote.