snapshot

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the magic of writing

The other night, I was trying to explain to someone about my penchant for writing, and how it is an avenue for learning, both personally and hopefully for others.  It makes me think.  It allows me to feel openly with abandon.  Writing allows me to express feelings beyond what is socially acceptable.  I put it out there with the hopes of punching a hole in the beliefs of another and allowing the feelings to seep out.   

It was difficult to find the words to describe how much of it is the process rather than the end product .... how I choose a topic and then allow the words to find me then flow through me like I'm simply a vessel to allow those words to carry thoughts out into the public domain.   I don't know whether I made sense.  It was after sipping on a Mojito.  Since they tend to numb the lips, there is a chance I simply clouded the conversation with gibberish.  

Tonight, a friend sent me a video that really hit home.  The woman is a fictional writer from Turkey named Elif Shafak.  Her message, which included some of her own story, was so compellingly accurate to the beliefs I carry with me about writing fiction.  Though it appears that I write autobiographically, and indeed have done more so in the past couple of months, the art of writing fiction is where I gather the most pleasure from. There is nothing more sacred for me than to slip into the abyss of my imagination only to be able to hook onto a story that is created simply for sharing as fiction.  

So often,  I write a piece and automatically there is an assumption that the feelings expressed through a character are ones I am feeling personally.  Sometimes, even when I write in first person, I am writing fiction. Or if I'm sharing a story of another person I have met, it is assumed that this is the full story of one person.  Particularly when I write a piece that is oozing in emotional description, its not uncommon for someone who is close to me to ask me if I'm alright because the intensity of what I have written frightens them into thinking I'm some suicidal crazy person.  I'm not.  I am definitely not myself these days, but I am pretty solidly grounded. 

One the points this woman in the video made resonated with me.  As she described what it was like to be labelled a "multi-cultural" writer, not only did I realize how often we do that....... expect someone from another culture to only write about that and nothing else ..... I realized that my own writing pegs me with certain labels.  I hate labels.  I write what is in my heart at the moment.  

Most wholeheartedly, I write from experiences but also from my ever vivid imagination. It is therapy.  I love the process.  And when it flows out of me like it is tonight........ so that I feel like an open vessel channeling words and expressions that I have no clue as to where they originate, except to believe they are my way of connecting with God?  I feel blessed.  I feel responsible. I feel that the power of connecting unanchored thoughts to the visceral reality of words is something I wish I could bottle and sell. It is a beautiful feeling. 

What is in me is in you.  The gift I have been given is to be able to find a way of sharing this so that sometimes a reader will have an AHA moment.  It may be fiction that I'm writing.  It may be a true story I am sharing. Whatever avenue I decide to share, it is in hopes that I do cross into your boundaries and hopefully and tap on what is perceived as truth.  

"I feel therefore I am free"............... this is a quote she used in the video.  It jumped out at me!  How true !!!!  Writing is the way in which I feel the most freedom to feel openly.  So often, this is totally unacceptabel to others if it is done in any other manner.   When I attempt to express myself in person verbally, I often threaten others with how comfortable I am in being direct and honest.  I am who I am.  

Through my writing, I can express the same thing, but it is less intrusive.  It allows the recipient to either read it fully and absorb the intensity of what I am trying to describe, or they can walk away.  Being present face to face live and in person is sometimes too much for others.  When I heard this quote spoken by this woman, I smiled knowing that it is through our feelings we can embrace a sense of freedom far more reaching than if we live in a place where only intellectual thoughts are shared.  Who the hell really cares about theory or acquired knowledge if it isn't expressed from the heart in a passionate manner?  No one.  If you FEEL the thoughts and ideas, you are more authentically received.  Tell a story, you have a receptive audience.  Chatter away about theories, you have an audience nodding off.

Writing is therapeutic.  For me my writing began around this time 5 years ago.  It hasn't stopped.  It flows, unfolding as I write.  I usually start with a thought.......... one single idea, and then I open my heart and mind to let it flow.  While I type it comes to me. Not before..... Even the autobiographical stuff.  Rarely do i have pre-meditated intentions.  I may have sketched it out in my head, but it always, always, always surprises me where the thought and the ideas and even the sketched out story in my head leads me.  I love these kind of surprises.  I don't like surprise parties or the ones I have been tossed my way recently whatsoever, but I like when my own thoughts morph into a surprise!

What i hope is that it leads me to you.  I hope that what I write and how I write leads me right to you wherever you are, and wherever you long to be.  For me, it is a transcendental state of being.  It allows me to stretch beyond my own borders to a place where learning and shifting occurs without struggle.  For you?  I don't know.  It is such an individual thing.  What i write about may resonate.  It may even hit a raw place in you.  Or, it may simply miss the mark because of where you are in your life journey.  All I can do is put it out there for consideration in hopes that it is fodder for contemplation. I have no control over that. 

Actually, I have no control over a damn thing, except what I choose to put out there, and how I choose to react to what is offered to me.  

Was I successful in explaining how pivotally important writing has been in my learning journey as well in my spiritual healing one?  I doubt it.  Mojitos have a way of clouding the brain and sending you into a place where you want to talk about other dreams rather than something that makes you think too much.  It's best to inhale the scent of the evening primrose and sink into the lulluaby of personal story telling connections.  It's heart stuff.... which eventually nurtures the writing. In fact, moments like those are the nuances filtered into writing from the heart.  This is where the magic formulates.... in the connections with others.... where the process begins.

Here is the video.  It is a little long, but well worth our attention....

http://www.ted.com/talks/elif_shafak_the_politics_of_fiction.html

Random bits.........

Hey Friends!  How have you been???  I've missed our beautiful instantaneous connections through this venue lately.   

I've been underground and under the covers this past week.......soaking up the Winter Olympics while nursing one strange head cold.  In between ravaging through two boxes of kleenex, and wondering who put the sand paper in my eye sockets, I've even been a wee bit productive.  Not on the blogosphere, but behind the scenes.......... inside the guts of my blog.  What a ride!

I've been going back through the Awareness archives, reading, reflecting, rewinding.... and choosing various pieces to rework.  Along the way, I also read the many many wonderful comments people have left..... the encouragement and feedback, the quotes and lyrics, and the heart stoked stories and the humourous admissions you've shared from your lives.  Thank you. :)

The whole process, which is still underway, has taken me a long time to finally tackle, but I guess had to wait until it felt right.  The fact that my muse had gone into hibernation, and that I've been feeling tapped out for a couple of months now, helped get me to that point.  However,  it took a full fledged nose running stop to confront that big old meaney called procrastination.  Rationalization just wasn't working anymore. 

So, I've begun.............collecting, sampling, clumping and dismissing.  Any posts I've written about politics or issues of the day, or any ranty pants stuff I've cast aside.  Instead, I'm focused on a few key themes.  From there, I am HOPING an idea of what to do with the pieces that make the cut will float from the nether regions.   As much as I'd like to know now, I also am feeling a sense of purpose while pacing the process.  It's teaching me patience; a lesson I work at daily.

More than anything, its been humbling.  Though I see how much my writing has strengthened, I also see how heavy handed some of it is. This can also be defined as crap and in need of serious reworking or just downright chucking.   However, it is what it is.  The writing served a purpose, an outlet, a therapeutic way of finding linearity in the mindfield of living out loud.  Whether it will resurface in some other way is a mystery.  Who doesn't like a good mystery though eh??

I'll keep you posted................ I'm very excited to have finally started.  I feel unstuck.  

Now?  Back to the Winter Games!  Are you watching?  Taking any of it in?  

Winter sports are in a category all on their own.  From the downhill ski events, to short track speed skating..... to figure skating.  I love it all.  Like others, what pulls me in are the life stories of the athletes as well as the stories which unfold as the Games unfold. 

The one to watch is Joannie Rochette.  She's our Figure Skating champion who sits in third place after the short program.  Her mother passed away suddenly on Saturday leaving a family, a hometown in Quebec and a skating community completely shocked and bereft.  Last night, Joannie took to the ice with grace and poise and performed a flawless program in front of a sold out audience and a whole country who stood and watched in tears.......... cheering her on.  It was beautiful and heart breaking.  After she took a bow, she fell into the arms of her coach and sobbed.   May she somehow gather the inner strength and feel the angels all around her in order to perform one more time on Thursday night.  

Say a little prayer for Joannie, will you?  

Tonight Canada vs Russia in the quarterfinals.  We're on our way to winning the game .......... and moving on.  If you have ever been interested in learning about the crazy Canuck game of hockey, tune in!  It's fast paced, and absolutely THRILLING!   The Gold Medal game will be played on Sunday.  The whole country is holding their breath in hopes that we'll be playing  for GOLD with glowing hearts!   Believe me, even if you aren't watching, you'll hear a whole country belting out their emotions all weekend long ...... guaranteed to reverberate out into the soundwaves  and right into your homes ......... 

one stalled muse......

Wow, I'm stalled.  I've started several bloggie posts and haven't the energy or creative ooomph to finish them.  They all seem so contrived and weenie, and I just can't go there.  I'm empty?  Or am I saturated?  I don't know.  Maybe a bit of both.  Whatever it is, I don't seem to have it. 

No flow, no go.  That's how I feel.  Step away until the muse makes an entrance again.  Be patient.  However, I know better.  You can't let the void of ideas and lack of incentive bung you up!  Sometimes, you just have to grab the entrails of one's motivation and grunt through the painful process.  Writer's block is a constipating ordeal.

Actually, I don't think my lack of "flow" has anything to do with writer's block.  I've got a million ideas swimming around in my head.  Phrases and bits of poetry are just beyond my imagination reach.  Topics and stories are formulating.  Two solid script ideas.  A novel idea which absolutely pumped me up last fall when I first started creating the main character and storyline.  In fact, one night I jotted down 10 pages of notes.  It was a freeflow stream of ideas. But then, I started sharing my ideas because of my excitement and kind of lost interest.  That's what happens.  If I talk about a piece i want to write before i actually do it, I tend to lose the drive. 

Many of the stories I want to write about I can't because of the public nature of this venue and the private confidentiality I have to live and work by.  Though I can often develop a post based on a story and turn it into something more general or something that doesn't look anything like my original tale, as I did with the last few pieces.  But, that takes some concentration.  Right now, I'm lacking in that......... that's not a block. That's called feeling unanchored.  There's a disconnect between my heart, my head and my creative side. It feels like there are ka-chunky divots on this creative road that swallow up my ability to find just.the.right.word.  I havent felt like this since my writing spree began 4 1/2 years ago and I started this blog.

Why did I start this blog?  It's original purpose was to help incorporate writing into my daily routine.  Well, that was accomplished and more.  It's an obsession. OK, its more than an obsession. It was also the place to archive first drafts.  I don't think I intended it to be an eternal holding tank, and I didn't expect it to end up being an obstacle to take the next step with some of the writing I'm proud of...........  1346 posts later?  hmmmmmmmmm.......... I know there are a hundred or so of them that meaningful and  have the potential for a larger audience.  This, I have confidence in.

I don't fear the distinct possibility of rejection.  I'm realistic about the chances of any of my work seeing the light of day in the publishing world.  But I know I have to try.  I have to pull some of these piece together and try or I will regret it forever. So, what's stalling me?  The way I see it.............there are two biggies.

1. I suck at organizing and detail work.  I'm not good at knitting, beading, and fine needlework.  It drags me down, sucks my energy,  makes me feel creatively claustrophobic.  I'm much better with open ended projects........ photography fills that for me, as does making wreaths or pulling together big baskets of goodies.  I love flower arranging......... the wilder the better.  My garden is a place of messy perennial blooms and not an orderly row upon row effort.  I don't even dress conservatively.  It constricts me.  I do have an aesthetic eye for colour and composition and I see the fine details.  But, I love the overall charismatic effect of creativity.  

If you asked my boss what my weaknesses are, she wouldn't hesitate........... the paperwork.  My strengths are the BIG ideas, the generation of a project while leading it.  So, put it in creative writing terms, my strengths are in the creative first idea side of things......and then overseeing the construction of a piece of prose with the big picture in my mind's eye.  I don't like to proofread, edit, or get bogged down by all of that.  Ideas trip out of me with lightening speed.  Maybe I'm ADHD?  No.  My attention span is fully firing when I'm engaged and can sculpt from an open hearted opportunity.

2.  The process of writing for me is both sensual and spiritual.  When I sink into the depths of a piece of writing, where just the right word is captured so effortlessly, where time holds no meaning, and the whole world could come to a crashing halt without a whisper of it filtering into my consciousness, I can only describe it as a connection with a Higher Power.  Is it too much to describe it as a heightened sense of becoming?  An enlightened awareness?

It's an elixir I keep returning to taste because it tastes so sweet, so ripe, I want to devour it.  In turn, the writing process feeds my appetite. I can explore, step out into new frontiers.  It stretches me, challenges me, pushes me beyond my comfort zone.  It also allows me to process my thoughts and put words to them.  It is the best tool for enhancing my own emotional literacy.   Consequently, once I have written something and post it here, I begin to move on right away into the next idea.  

The next idea and the previous 50 ideas I've had however, didn't grab hold of me like they used to.  As frustrating as that is, I can't deny it anymore and will have to explore the whys behind the change of wind.   Maybe it's time to seek out the challenges in the discomfort zone of returning to have a gander what I have already written. It's time to revisit and evaluate.  Maybe by doing this, the flow will reappear and my ability to find just the right word will reconnect my heart, my head and my creative side.  That would be such a relief, because to tell you the truth, I havent felt that way in months. 

OH, the details!!!  Please don't let me drown in the editing, tweaking, cutting, rewriting, tossing, threading, beading work ahead.  Oh, and God?  Would you mind dropping in from time to time to check on me like you did when I was in the writing flow?

_____________________________________________________

You could help me out too......... TREMENDOUSLY.  If there is a memorable piece I've written... a particular post that resonated with you....poked you in the ribs maybe.... I would love to know.  Thank you.

riddles.

Natures red carpet.

"The wound has left an imprint....labour and discipline of creativity refines our blemished seeing, and gradually an unexpected gift comes to light.....nothing is said directly in creative work; it is obliquely suggested. Perhaps creative expression is a way of telling something indirectly that we could never tell out straight...."  

John O'Donohue,

Beauty, The Invisible Embrace.

Creativity is never linear is it?  Come to think of it, neither is love. They both contain complicated riddles that act as cues to peak our curiosity, and to hook us into delving deeper into the world of human imperfection.  

Life is full of surprises.  Amazing how often we see reality through the lens of an illusion.  Amazing how often we settle into an illusion convinced its reality only to be surprised by a confession.....a truth. 

My leap of faith is wanting....... I wish sometimes it was simply a linear journey where the destination was at the end of a red carpet and the gift was sitting at the foot of an old maple.


Life is a riddle.  So is creativity.  So is love.

memorable trips...

I wrote this post originally as an email letter one evening not so long ago. My intention was to simply send a link to an article I had just read, but what came out was a story wrapped in many memories of my Grandmother, Mabel. In return, I received the story encapsulated in a piece of word art designed my emerald friend, Pip. SO COOL to see many of the key words pulled together! It caught me by smiling surprise. I decided to post the story with a few tweaks and a few updates along with the Pipdesign tonight as I take time to remember Mabel. This week is the 6th anniversary of her death. Everyday she continues to travel with me.

Good evening friends....hope it is warm and toasty where you are as it is here in my little writing den. I have some my music on.....and am tucked under a dark purple duvet ...my reading lamp is the only light on.....it feels like a little cave with books and pictures and photos..... outside the weather is drizzly fog. Indoors, I'm surrounded by stillness.....comfort.....in my den which I named after my Grandmother, Mabel Darby. This is the "Darby" room. We had it built after we received some money from her that she had inherited. She shared this late life wealth with all of us, making sure every grandchild and great grandchild would benefit. So, when I'm in here, I think of her and wish, she was still alive to share this part of my journey with me.

I know, I know... she IS...but I'd sure like to talk with her about it all. There is a framed picture up on the bookshelf of just Mabel and I on my wedding day. Its in a frame she made at a woodworking class she took in her 70's.

There's another one on that shelf too...of my Dad, Jamie, his Dad, George and his brother...on a summer day at my parent's cottage before George's Alzeimers kicked in. I think it was the summer my little sister was married and we were all home to celebrate.

There's another of my two nephews who are young adults now standing in a hay field behind the old house Jamie's mother grew up in Spencer's Island, Nova Scotia with my beautiful Max when he was only 3. It was the first time they had met!!! My nephews live out west and we rarely see them...the three of them, despite the age difference took to one another....the big boys never leaving Max out of whatever beachcombing adventure they set out to enjoy. It's a bittersweet photo now, because it looks like we have lost our access to that old house and the property.....but that's another story I will write when the estate is finally settled. Lets hope thats soon. It may be. But, the result of the estate settling is just going to be sad.....

Maybe i should keep in mind the lesson of the woodcutter..."Whether it's a blessing or a curse, I do not know....."

There are lots of photos in my Darby room. Ancestral, generations of tugging and huggin belonging. Our roots. My roots. My little family's roots. I love writing in here.... :)

Over on my desk, there is a hilarious photo I took of Martha and Max acting up together Hmmm how old were they there?? 5 and 9 years old maybe? That one silly shot strums a whole story song which jumps right out of the frame!

We were on our way from Fredericton to Burlington, Ontario (a 14 hour drive when the weather is good....) to celebrate Mabel's 90th birthday. She was born on the same day the Titanic sunk...April 14th, 1912.... So it was April 2002. The van we owned at that time had been a lemon from the moment we drove the damn thing off the car lot. One thing after another had gone wrong with it, like it was possessed by demons. It was so bad that financially we were being hit like we had two car payments a month. But you know what happens with a car like that? You think.....ah.....just get this one thing fixed and then everything will be alright...NOT!!!

So, there we were, car tuned up, everything checked over before we hit the road. Our plan was to make the trip in one full swoop...no overnight stop. With all the amenities in the car to do just that, and then some........we piled into the van along with our trusty chocolate Lab, Lucy. 14 hours of being in the driving ZONE!

6 hours into it, we pull off the highway just outside of Quebec City for lunch and the van goes.....kachunk, kachunk..... oh no!! It was the kind of KaCHUNK that is never good news. The mechanic who couldn't speak any English, motioned to us that it was what we feared...transmission problems. He suggested we take it to the transmission place located on the highway a couple of miles back.... kachunk, kachunk off we go to Mr. Transmission in the land of french speaking Canada....no anglais...!!

As Jamie went in to the greasy little office that smelled to the heavens of transmission fuel and gasoline and oil slicks....I sat on the curb in the parking lot and lost my composure completely. I knew it was going to be expensive and I didn't know what was going to happen.... whether we would be able to continue on or not. However, I knew my grandmother was aging and beginning to weaken so being at her birthday party was very important to me. But, it was a Friday afternoon in Quebec City and we had another 8 hours to travel without a vehicle...the party was on the Sunday.

Tears came in frustration and anger over this damn van. My brain wasn't working well. It was tired and I lost it. My two children right then and there took it upon themselves to make me laugh. They jumped out of the van, pulled the "head hole" of their t-shirts up to frame their heads, which made their arms and shoulders hunch up. They looked like little goofballs. Then they sang me a song or some such thing. What was the funniest was to see how they cracked each other up! I laugh now remembering how beautiful it felt to experience their ability to be in charge of dishing out the empathy.

My tears dried up, replaced by recognizing the absurdity of the situaton. My kids had made me realize how silly life can be....how one has to lighten up and just go with the punches. I took the photo which sits framed in the Darby room right then because i knew that whenever i looked at that photo in the future i would promptly remember this lesson. Tonight, I remember this lesson. Go with the punches....go with the flow.

The van ended up having to stay there...they didn't have the right transmission. We somehow managed to find a rental...a much smaller car to continue on with the trip. Two kids and a fat chocolate Lab shared the back seat. After a few hours sitting and absorbing the reality we were back on the road but ended up stopping on the way overnight. The day had been way too long to push through the night. So, we arrived at my parent's place on the Saturday, still wired and frustrated over our consistently pain in the arse van problems and aching over the amount of money it was going to cost us in the longrun.

The trip ended up costing us close to $3000.00 dollars when it should've been GAS money and some eats! But i wouldnt have missed Mabel's birthday party for the world. I got to give the toast to the Birthday gal......surrounded by family of all ages.

Wow! You know, I was just going to write to you about this link to this AMAZINGLY achingly beautiful correspondance between journalist Ian Brown and Jean Vanier....I got going...my fingers tripping over the keys so quickly that I couldn't stop myself! Vanier's response to Brown's questions about aging and dying are so eloquent....so touching. It truly hit a good place in me.

I know you will like this article about accepting our own mortality. I wonder who will come to mind for you as you read it? For me it was Mabel Darby, my grandmother who died just after her 91rst birthday. She is the person in my life who in her own dying helped me be less afraid of it. I don't know how that happened. I just know it shifted me enough not to be so full of anxiety over my own death. You know what else? It was Mabel who in her ability to embrace the adventure helped me learn how to go for the gusto.

What I'm thinking now??? If Mabel were alive today? There is no way on God's green earth that i would be considering a trip to Greenbelt without her! Never wanting to miss a good good thing, especially if it involved travel and meeting like minds, she'd be demanding that i take her along.

Of all the people in the whole world and beyond, she is the one I think I take after the most in many ways. I was given the honour to stand up at her funeral to toast her, and I spoke of the road less travelled because it made a difference for her as she lived her life and it certainly makes a difference as I live mine.

Enjoy this correspondance between Brown and Vanier as i did and spend a little time with the person who comes to mind for you.

its calling.....and calling.....upon reflection.

You know when you've found a gem of a book when the introduction speaks to you. My daughter asked me to look for a copy of The Alchemist, by Paul Coelho for her to read during English class. Being the good Momma that I am, I complied and then promptly sat down to take a quick glean only to slide right into the story. Right away, a light bulb blinked on.....and not one of those annoying environmentally friendly dull ones. A big bright halogen BLINKED. And let me say, it's about fecking time my head hit the switch.

For ages I have struggled with why I feel so stuck, unable to move forward with some logical plan in my life with respect to my writing. I keep churning the stuff out like a banshee on fire, but I have yet to do anything concrete with any of it except post it here. Up pops a new thought and pling, it spews out of me. (eeeewwww, I now have Regan from the Exorcist in my imagination....hmmmm.......maybe writing is like an exorcism?) The words flow and flow through my veins and out my fingertips. For the life of me, I can't do more than that except give it an unfocused attempt to take the next necessary step.

Fear.

"We all need to be aware of our personal calling. What is a personal calling? It is God's blessing, it is the path that God chose for you here on Earth. Whenever we do something that fills us with enthusiasm, we are following our legend. However, we don't all have the courage to confront our own dream?"

These are the words that thunked me in the head. Not new words, but perhaps timely words. Paulo Coehlo then identifies the four obstacles that inhibit our attempts at following our own legend......

1. We are told from childhood onward that everything we want to do is impossible. We grow up with this idea, and as the years accumulate, so too do the layers of prejudice, fear and guilt. There comes a time when our personal calling is so deeply buried in our soul as to be invisible. But it's still there.....

This one doesn't fit for me, but it does for many..... I was one of the lucky ones who had parents and other family members who consistently told me I could do whatever I set my sights on. This message continues.......and includes my husband and my children and close friends. I've had good wonderful mentors in my past too who also passed on this message.... Yes, I am very lucky to have so many in my court. It's not something I ever take for granted because I know of so many who are pushing their legend carts uphill alone.

So.....I read on.

Love.

2. "We know what we want to do but are afraid of hurting those around us by abandoning everything in order to pursue our dream. We do not realize that love is just a further impetus, not something that will prevent us going forward. (AT this point.......my internal light bulb begins to turn on.....) We do not realize that those who genuinely wish us well want us to be happy and are prepared to accompany us on that journey. "

This is where I was hooked.....because I had twisted this in my thinking. I was bending and leaning on this bizarre assumption. Of course the people who love us and support us want the best for us. Why was I using the thought that I would push over the family apple cart if I switched gears in order to pursue my writing? Big adjustments have already been made around here, which I am eternally grateful for. It was my family....my husband and my children who gave me my laptop. It was my family.....who encouraged me to take a trip last spring to fly across the pond to meet a very special emerald friend.

It also makes me wonder..........if there was an important person in my life who only purposefully wants to make me unhappy, then why would I continue to have this person in my life?

I continued to read...

Fear again.....rejection, rejection.....

3. "Fear of the defeats we will meet on the path. We who fight for our dream suffer far more when it doesn't work out, because we cannot fall back on the old excuse "Oh well, I didn't really want it anyway...." We do want it and know that we have staked everything on it and that the path of the personal calling is no easier than any other path, except that our whole heart is in the journey."

Defeats are necessary aren't they? Mistakes are made and it's alright.....if you continue to learn and allow them to stretch you........ Easier said than done!!!! THIS IS WHERE I'M STUCK! I have to get past the idea that swims in my head............"What if I reach for my dream.....of writing and publishing and I fail? What then? What if my attempts to live my legend falls flat? What if I push and pull and try and then I'm left with a handful of feathers and nothing else only to have dragged my family through the carnage??

The suffering we feel when we don't pursue our personal calling is far greater than if we try. This is the key. THIS is what I must remember. It is not the end product, it is the process of living, trying, doing, crying, dreaming, DOING, pursuing, stretching, falling, jumping, yelling, dancing, praying, wondering, creating, creating, creating, talking, sharing, caring that matters!! Not a new lesson, but a timely, timely one. Reaching towards our personal calling most definately will include suffering, but it is also includes that life affirming euphoric moments which is sorely missing in our lives when we remain stuck, stalled and soulfully sore. I realize now this is where I am. I'm not as stuck as I think I am. I am going down the path of my calling. It just includes a few potholes I have to climb out of. And a re-jigging of the gameplan. I can do that.

ps. The last obstacle?? It has something to do with "what happens AFTER the dream is conquered? Then what?" Well, I'll drive across that damn bridge WHEN I get to it. I'm not there yet.....

haunted

Are you out there?

I see
Streetlight tricks on the upshorn leaves
behind the shadow pine
catching the corner of my eye


I hear
Dry soundscrapes of tumbling remants
down the deserted road
threatening nocturnal emptiness

I listen to
An infrequent pitched squeak of a bare branch
against the window pane
warning of winter's cold breath


I feel
sadness when I see your image
behind my closed eyes
haunted regret when I sense your presence
captured in an illusionary embrace

I taste
the last remnants of a parched thirst
the slow drip of salty tears wandering in lost causes
touching my lips in ache

I remember
how you looked at me,
how you used to look right into me.


And it makes me wonder about
shivering loneliness caught in the throat of a cry.
and it makes me long for
surrendering tenderness found in the shared darkness of two souls


to soothe my wounds
to remind me of my beauty
to savour when the winds moan a bitter song
of wanting what I cannot find.


I wrote this piece last year decided to tweak it a bit and repost it. I'm surprised by this poem.......surprised by the fact that it came out of me. I find it interesting to look back on some of my pieces, particularly the ones which were prompted by a particular word or a thought that had been offered up to me. The prompt for this one was "haunted..." and today if I had thought about that word, I more than likely would have gone in another completely different direction.

One of the things I love about writing is the whole process of formulating something from one word. When it flows, it does so from a place in me that is continues to be mysterious. What I do know about that secret writing place deep inside is what dwells there. My heart and my mind come together to contemplate at a thinking and a feeling level. In fact, it is where they integrate and become the whole me. So often I will grab hold of a concept, word or phrase, usually after reading something or hearing something.....sometimes if I have personally experienced it and I try to humanize it.............give it visual feelings.....make it come to life in a different way than we usually look at it. IN this particular piece, I wanted the feeling of haunted to feed the scenario I wrote about.

Writing is an obsession, a practise, a life choice, a joy. Writing is a frustration, a challenge, a therapy, and still remains a joy. It excites, entices, and delights me. It allows me to dig deep into the recess of my own mystery in order to learn as I go.......

omens and blessings

How often do we miss a blessing because we only see it as a curse? Are we afraid to recognize them for what they are? How often do we miss reading the omens scattered like autumn leaves along our walking path because they simply look like wet rotting lifeless mulch in need of a good raking? They smell of death, not life! Some of them.....the strong ones stick to your shoes and trail along, persistently holding on. Those messy buggers.

All the while, we keep thinking "Gotta keep the walking path pristine..........leaves are just messy and mean nothing." We have tucked away our ability to use our intuitiveness.....the essence of how we read the world around us because we want life to be pristinely predictable.

why? Fear.

Omens and cursed blessings mark change....change in our messiness we label "life unfolding," .... a letting go of the past, and a bridge to the future. They stir up our feelings and make us feel uncomfortable in our own skin. It's like we don't know ourselves because blessings and omens bump us from the outside and make us look inside. However, if we use our intuitiveness tool to journey into the clay of others who have been here before us, perhaps we will find that our lives are simply a thread of an eternal wise soul where answers and maps are found.

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Airing a few bits of laundry......

Hey there! I have much to write.....ooooo big surprise there..........and for some reason I needed to store it up in my noggin before I aired it. The focus around here......and by here I mean Burlington because I'm still here having been stranded for a couple of days due to the impotent hurricane named Kyle which in preparation the good people of all things plane like cancelled all flights to the Maritimes last night, was on my parent's 50th anniversary party, which by the way went very well. More to come on that......

So, I have a couple more vacation days ahead of me and if I wanted to be stranded anywhere it would be in my parent's home where I grew up. They've got everything here, including indoor plumbing and the internet! Lots of tea and wine too, so I'm roughing it really..........taking a sipping of tea.........

I started this blogpiece on Friday and didn't finish it. Like a good stubborn Virgo, I am determined to post it. However, I finished it once this morning after messing around with it and making it all pretty only to have the blogger gremlins eat the damn thing. I was so pissed! So, I have now soaked in the bathtub, puttered around, got dressed, made another cup of strong tea and here I am.....

what is so ironic is that the piece is........well............a glowing tribute to the love of all things blog and of writing. I waxed too poetic I think and made God gag with my self absorbed gushing. Humility washes over again. I have now tightened the piece, pulled out some of the gooey bits, and left some and am now ready to push publish again. And after that.........??? I plan to write more today. Hey! I've got a freebie day. Why the heck not? My head is full and spinning with ideas. Gotta make them come to fruition, right? What's the point of having a thought if it is not expressed. Thoughts float in a big hot breath of ether they arent harnessed to a few chosen words, right?

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Airing a few bits of Laundry

I didn't know I was in a state of sleep a few years ago until I woke up. I thought it was a normal way of being. Somehow I had wandered away from my own nucleus while keeping pace with the expectations and responsibilities of the roles I had comfortably fallen into. It happens to all of us at some point I think, especially if there are other more pressing demands in our lives. Of course, we choose most of them...... most of which fall under one or more of the following categories ..... marriage, a career, parenthood, family, friendships, community. I'm sure we could all make a list of at least 20 different roles we assume in the run of one day!
There is a certain time in our lives, however, when all of those areas need attention all at once until they find a place in our own mosaic. There are very few days when they all seem to be in sync......in balance. There are fewer days when you can add yourself to the mix. It's like a carnival midway, with the roller coaster smack dab in the middle of it all ..... the multi-sensory colour, movement and chaos of our busy lives is a mezmerizing allure which pulls us right into the noisy hum. Its easy to get lost in the midway.......finding your way out can be tricky even if you try to retrace your steps. All of a sudden, you're surrounded by motion that is disconnected to you and if you don't stop to regroup, you may end up in a kooky hall of mirrors where your reflections of who you are, what you want, where you're actually headed become totally distorted. There is a miasmic sense to it.....like your soul going on a bender.
Though it seemed at the time that it was one moment of clarity, in hindsight it was an accumulative process similar to waking in the morning when we go from REM sleep to really opening your eyes. The previous winter, I was involved in a train the trainer workshop on teaching a program called "PLAR" (which stands for Prior Learning and Recognition). It is a portfolio development program to guide individuals through a process of identifying their own skills and gifts that they have gathered during their lives by reviewing their interests, listing their formal coursework but more importantly identifying what they have learned and what knowledge they've acquired both while working, living, schooling and playing. Part of the train the trainer homework was to develop my own portfolio and then present it to the group.
At first, I hesitated to take the course. Originally it seemed too light and fluffy......too trendy and unhelpful. Now I wonder if I was simply digging my heels in because I didn't want to "wake up." I still wanted to laze around a bit longer. Who knows? Once I pulled out the big basket of old photos, letters, certificates and various and sundry bits from my past, however, and started going through it while sipping on a glass of wine one night, I fell right into a trip down memory lane and had a blast. It sounds so self absorbed as I write this and think about how I want to describe the feeling, but it felt like a self imposed reunion. I had forgotten, or perhaps had just stored much of me........had simply tossed it into a big basket and closed the lid. But the more I read and revisited little snippets from my past, I saw the silouette fill in with colour. The process helped me move from REM to awakening, or at least brought me to a place where i was ready to open my eyes.
That spring of 2005, a friend of mine invited me to tag along to Quebec City for a couple of days. She was heading up there for some meetings with colleagues at Laval University and wanted company for the travel. Well, this was her explanation, but given that she has travelled around the world, in hindsight I now think she realized she could offer me a couple of days of wandering on my own as a means of letting me find my way again. That's exactly what I did. I needed it. I wandered around taking in la belle ville, seulement. Because it was pre-tourista season, I had the place to myself........the cobblestone streets of Old Quebec, the boardwalk overlooking the Saint Lawrence river with the Chateau Frontenac looming beside me.........the Plains of Abraham where school kids were acting out the battle scenes of an important historical moment in our Canadian collective history. I kept walking and walking, filling myself with good air, and pushing out the cobwebs. My pen remained untouched. My new journal uncracked. But, it was the beginning of my own spring.....I could feel it in my step. (Hey, thanks Helen!! You are a wise woman and I will travel with you anytime...I hear you're going to Germany next week. Can I come??)
A series of events three years woke me up and made me step out of that pseudo-comfort zone where i felt safe but basically lost in the carnival midway. The following summer of meeting a new friend, reuniting with old friends, reacquainting myself to the possibility of there being a God out there, reading new books........well new to me........brought me to my pen and journal again. Writing it down in one sentence doesn't give it the justice it deserves as to how it truly impacted my journey. Not only was it altered, my journey took on more clarity. It stirred my motivation, set fire to the yearnings i had stuck on the back burner. Consequently, one of the biggest changes happened when I set up a blog. This blog......and named it after one of the books I had just read.....
Today I celebrate 3 years blogging. There have been times in the past year when I have seriously thought about closing it down, especially when the writing and the ideas seemed to be drying up or when it felt like a chore instead of a joy. But, those times have been few and far between and were quickly erased whenever I received feedback on a piece i had written or when I was able to capture the essence of my thoughts. Through blogging, I have found a place where my love of writing can be captured and shared. Through blogging, I have had the opportunity to not only meet many of you through the virtual world tying us together in a way that no other means has been ever able to do......I have had a chance to meet some of you in person. Through blogging, my love of travel regained momentum.........and I took a flight to across the pond to truly touch fingertips with new dear friends Pip, Joan and Katie.


The journey continues as do the connnections and the reunions. The Greenbelt Festival is most definately on the horizon, where I intend to be, reuniting and meeting a soul friend I feel like I've known all my life and beyond.

The power of the pen, and the power of the blog along with the Virgo determination to pour it out as best I can have opened up big windows that overlook an amazing vista of possibilities.....I see the midway now as an adventure to be explored. It may offer up kooky reflections every now and then, but it also offers amazing excitement.



ps. thank you you all for a great 3 year ride so far................onward we go! A special thank you to my Finnan friend for introducing me to that land of blog and a place to tether my thoughts. No coincidences, right? It's all in the illusion of the stars....right?

bleeding heart guides.....

Isnt it funny how the most mundane tasks in life come packaged with instructions.....a guide to follow and refer to, and yet the most important things in life have no such thing? The self-help industry tries its very best to compensate, but most books, videos, and yappity CD's you can shove into the system in your car, miss the mark. Sure, they are full of sagely advice, information and deep thoughts, but they dont help with the biggies. They are promoted as the "answer to all your questions...." as "the key to your solutions......." as "the secret to success........" as "everything you needed to know........." so you think they would help with the biggies. But in reality, they don't. Neither does Oprah. Neither does Dr. Phil. Neither do any of the other high-falootin' Steven Covey/Tony Robbins types.

Lots of direction..........maps for life, mentors who guide, big brothers to teach, consultants who confuse, preachers who baffle.........life coaches who do what??? But when it comes down to the game of life, what do you REALLY get out from a guide of some kind besides confusion?

We have become co-dependents to the gurus out there who are making fast cash on our collective lack of self-confidence. And quite frankly, I dont know what came first, the people with the golden eggs of insight, or our inability to figure things out for ourselves. Did this self-help industry chip and strip away at our delicate balances by providing advice and marketing in a way that has made us second guess our own common sense or are we more messed up than previous generations? What did the folks before us rely on to figure it out? THEMSELVES! Don't you find it really strange that the people who have forked out the most moooo-laaaa to purchase the next best answer to their problems are still the most messed in the head?

It begs the question...........Will there ever be a guide to help us overcome our addictions to these self help navel gazing enforcers? Do we really need so much guidance? Whatever happened to simply getting on with it.............living our lives and learning from our mistakes (cause its ok to make mistakes.......perfection is a misguided concept.) and moving on?

Life is complicated because we human beings make it so. Personal growth, learning, loving and interacting is the most difficult tasks we can take on. I guess I am thinking tonight that perhaps we need to learn how to rely on ourselves to make decisions, to think things through, to reflect and pray and reflect some more and most importantly to learn how to love and how to connect with others. And the only way to learn how to do these things is to listen to our hearts.

The answers to the biggies are nestled in our hearts. If we are open to seek out the moments of feeling vulnerable when we are alone and when we are with another person........if we are open to expressing our truth as well as open to hearing it from someone else...........if we are open to understanding that life is a struggle of adding to our personal awareness, then a guide isn't necessary. A set of internal ears, which we all own no matter how closed minded we are, is all that is needed. We are our own guides. We just have to find the lost collective confidence by turning off the TV, by ignoring the yappity CD's, by turning off the talk show "you should do it this way" people and go with your heart.

The heart never lies...........it is there as our eternally internal, guide. And if we did this, think of the extra cash you'd have on hand to buy a bottle of wine and share it with a friend? Yes, a bottle of wine, some good music, a comfy spot in front of the fireplace.........no time constraints..........sounds therapeutic to me. It's too bad we're so busy striving for perfection that we miss out completely that we have the answers within hearts reach.

Sunday scribblings prompt this week is "guides." for more scribblings..check out this site.

Review, Renew, Remind......Reflect.

I have taken a step back to review. It's what feels right on the last day of the year.....in fact I have a tough time even contemplating ringing in another year without a chance to reflect on what has passed by, and what I had a chance to grab onto before the wind took it down river.

The writing shared on my blog, the beautiful quotes I have found along the way, my own musings and ALL of the wonderful insights, feedback, thoughts and feelings left in the comment section by you has fed me like a Sunday brunch buffet. Rereading the posts and comments of this past year has stirred up new ideas, as well as the desire to expand on some of the same themes. Learning is that way isn't it? Learning is like a daisy chain, all interconnected, lovely and potentially never ending. Or perhaps learning is more of a multi-coloured, multi-layered tablet of construction paper waiting for creativity to do it's magic. However one wants to look at it, we are always adding to or using previous learning as a hitching post.



We seem to have covered a lot of ground this year. And yet, I'm left with the thought that we only ever show and see glimpses of one another. It makes me wonder if we ever really know another person.......if we ever really have the opportunity to truly know ourselves as deeply as we can. Like winter, our whole story doesn't show. Some of who we are is buried under the snow.....laying dormant, not dead.........just dormant. Some of who we are is waiting to be discovered.



I have found many gems tucked in the comments that people have taken the time to leave. Amazing little gems......of self disclosure, of feelings, even of quotes which resonated with them in a meaningful way.......to be shared. The interactions played out through blogging is what makes me return to the buffet table time and again. When I try to explain to someone outside of this medium looking in, it feels like an ongoing discussion found in a university classroom. I feel like I am taking the best course I have ever taken..........self-initiated, self-directed and yet interconnected and interdependent on the generosity of others who regularly or intermitedly pop into the same venue. It seems like a safe place to try out new ideas, new concepts......new ways of expressing an old concept. It is a place where one can dig a little deeper under the snow to add nutrients and warmth to a dormant side of oneself.



A dear friend whom I have met through this medium shared his feelings about knowledge and wisdom. He wrote that "perhaps wisdom begins with fear............that a healthy scare of imperfection ain't such a bad thing. " As always, his comment when he left it made me think and it continues to make me think.......



Perhaps we are sometimes too afraid of looking in the cracked mirror where our imperfections glare back at us that stops us from wanting to see anything beyond the superficial glimpses. Too scary and too ugly? Too messy under the snow.........? And yet, isn't it worth recognizing imperfection because of what lays behind it? Isn't that where pure beauty is found in all it's formations?



There are bright yellow crocuses laying dormant under that snow.



There is pure beauty in our enlightenment, especially if it is shared. How I learn and what I learn is by sharing it with others. I can keep my ruminations to myself and allow them to accumulate silently, or I can take a chance to elaborate on them, messy and ugly as they may be in order to see them from a different angle..........and in order to receive feedback and reinforcing encouragement.........in order to figure it out.





I feel a bit satiated right now......and a wee bit stunned by some of the pieces I had written and forgotten about. Not the lessons.......or the topics..........just that somewhere along the line I had found the words (or the words found me more like it) to express it. Thoughts and ideas were definately generated by what I have read on other's blogs, and by the comments left on my own. Rereading them has reinforced my belief in the interconnectedness and interdependence of community........and how important that is.



So, I thank you for feeding me with colourful threads of ideas to stitch into my imagination.



The words I managed to capture? They are a gift.........and I am the vessel, as they continue to pour out at an alarming rate! Over the course of the year, I have tried to recite prayers which I found comfortable with as a way to step a little closer to God. I thought that maybe if I knew the words more succinctly.........off by heart..........that maybe I would feel the power of prayer which I read about. It would become a meditation through which I can connect to a Higher Power. I will continue to pursue this........seeking out the right prayer, the one that fits. But, the more I think about it, the more I realize that writing is my prayer to God. Writing is my prayer shawl. It is where I seem to be able to share a more vulnerable side of who I am. It is where I find my purpose and focus. It is where I feel He meets with me and offers the cracked mirror which reflect back to me a healthy scare of imperfections. And you know what? It sure ain't a bad thing now is it Mr. Harbour?



Happy New Year. May our worlds collide, coincide, and interconnect throughout 2008. I look foward to where the journey will lead.