i thought i was ready..........

Dear God, 

I stopped walking. My journey halted abruptly.

My choice.

I thought I was ready for a rest.

I thought I would be ready to sit still to read, to write,

to focus on the daily tasks inviting me back

I thought I was ready for some lovin' fun.  

God knows I was lacking. 

It seemed like the natural inclination, 

to rest from a deep seated exhaustion

to recharge, rekindle the light of Eros.

Love and belonging.... to fill that cup of love and belonging. 

Instead, the walking continued, 
this time it was in the form of a pace........ 

directionless missteps with too many unneeded ones.

Overwhelming expectations breathed dragon heat on my neck.
not wispy kisses.

Instead, I spun around enough to make me dizzy.  

Spinning never gets you where you want to go.  

It just leaves heat on the soles of your feet....

friction burns from assimilated repetitious actions

and a mixed up brain.

Every now and then, I'd sit with blistered feet

with high hopes of receiving a massaging balm

from strong warm hands. 

Tender touches

How I longed for those hands to hold me.

 

By then, my thoughts were jumbled,

my breathing was burdened,

my feelings had flown out of me 
like scattered stars in a night sky. 

Desperation only leaks from this chaos. 

Love looks and feels like hungry chaos in the mean hours.

Shadow boxing driven by the ache of loneliness

zapped my energy time and again.

I'd reach up to the heights of joyful anticipation

only to be slapped down 
with the dramatic force of the glove of realization.

Boxing glove brutality. 

I'd seek out illusions in hopes that the oasis welcomed me into its beauty.

I didn't recognize them as illusions.  

No, I saw them as truth.  

It was never solid enough to grasp onto.... 

the oasis was sand spilling out of open hands 
of one dimensional one liners. 

They were the wrong open hands. 

Love amiss. 

Love is not one errant kiss.

Stuck in transit,

I wallowed in lonely unmet needs,

clouding over personal reflections.

I lifted up the mirror. 

No images formed. 

Just faceless silouettes arcing out of silver glass.

The yearnings market crashed all around me,

sending shards of desires through an already splintered heart.

I lost my way. 

I ran the other way.

I went deaf to the calling of my name.

Still,  I spun inside the yearnings of Eros.

I thought I was ready. 

I thought the comfort could be found in strong arms

I saw love as the potion to pull me up out of mired loneliness.

I forgot You.

I forgot how to find You.

You let me feel the rawness of an unprotected heart.

And I cursed every single time I landed on my knees alone.

I forgot the words of prayer.

Wiped out after pacing......

Stripped of all semblance of balance, 

I sought solace under the covers on hot humid days 

with only the fan to keep me cool..... 

white noise to drown out a heavy heart.

 Stillness of an empty bed.

Last night, 

empty and disappointed, 

I remembered a few things. 

Your love is what matters most. 

Your love is what supports me through the spinning chaos of healing

It is Your love that helps me heal the blister burned feet.

God, I reckon this will not the be last time I have to learn this lesson. 

Spinning at first feels like a fun activity, 

though interest grows weak 

repetition sneaks in the pain 
when you're not paying attention. 

At least it emptied me

Emptied me enough to let You in again. 

Just in time.

I will walk again...... 

forward, with two steps back every now and then

Still.

You under my feet, as always

You never forget me..... 
sometimes I'm too full that I falter and forget You, God.
Maybe I don't forget.
Maybe I just misplace myself.

Walking in prayer, 

unraveling the confusion.

finding solace

And all around me......... your encouraging echos

I will hear

Reassurance.

Love, the unconditional hymn you hum

to lost souls like me

doing the best that I can to find my way back to the fold. 

God, will you hold up that mirror for me?

Let it reflect on the Beauty of this day 
you have given me as a gift
to breathe in Your love? 

Let me hold the Hand I cannot see

and feel the warmth of being held again.

I am ready.  I am ready to pray again.

Will you show me how to again? 

the sweet scent of serenity

Spencer's Island twilight blues.....

"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change......and to recognize that peace can be everlasting.

God grant me the courage and wisdom to know the difference of what I can and cannot change."

Serenity. 

Has it become one of those well worn words, or does it still have a purity to it that goes beyond a bath oil essence? We do our very best to market it or bottle it or even sell it in dark alleys. We hang posters of it in our family rooms or offices. We sniff it, spread it, sit in it, ingest it. We have turned it into a mission statement for all recovering human beings.  Gee, I'm sure we've even made porn movies starring someone named Serenity. Condoms? Is there a serenity brand? Probably, along with a dozen or so sex toys all promoting a cascadingly erotic trip to serenity. I'm not saying that one can't find serenity after a rousing romp of steamy sex, but is that serenity or simply exhaustion after a release of pent up hormones? 

Hmmmmm...........good question, Awareness! Anyone have an answer to that one?

Well, let me give it a shot. (ok that was deliberate Anon!) Given that the definition refers to a state of peaceful being, it seems whatever leads you to that door is up for grabs.

Serenity. It's still one of my most favourite words......right up there with the word Bliss.  Though it's not one I use often in my daily life., because serenity and daily life don't seem to merge on a regular basis. This week, the word kept harmonizing in my head as I tried to strip away the fog of stress. It was like a mantra replaying over and over in my thinking.  When I was able to focus on the soothing cool waters that do accompany the sound of the word and the vision I have of its poetic contentment......?  I could feel its balm massage my temples.  I could feel a stillness just a fingertip touch away.....

Ah!   The sweet scent of serenity.... like the enticing aroma of crushed wild roses or the dainty scent of lily of the valley....  a lavender field in full bloom, a fresh cut lilac bouquet lingering a light essence in the breezes of a home.......

Calm cool quiescence........the warm encompassing feeling as one watches a beautiful summer sunset after a challenging day. It seems to soak into our pores like a salve or a lotion which moisturizes our parched skin when we've been away from recognizing beauty of the world around us. One amazing sunset can realign our universe and leave us understanding serenity more deeply....and longing for more.  We taste the sweetness of serenity and we yearn for more..... just one taste leaves your heart bleeding for more.

Yesterday, I had an impromptu lunch with two beautiful women.  Friends.  We're all going through our own difficult stuff and I hope they know I am there for them as much as they have been there for me.  When we get together, there is always a flurry of activity and chatting.... catching up like we havent seen one another in a long time and yet we have been in touch regularly for a long time now.  But it just seems as though so much happens in a spit of a moment that there is always a sense of a reunion. Today was no different..... and the feelings and frustrations were shared.  

Eventually, as we ate the most delicious homemade curry soup and fresh pesto green beans compliments of one of these friends, we began to talk about serenity......needing it, yearning for it..... trying to capture it even for a fleeting moment as a way to catch our breath.  As a way to breathe more evenly.  It seemed like an impossible task, to capture the glow of serenity, but interestingly as we began talking about our desires, the level of intensity in the air settled.  Our voices, once shrill with frustration softened.  The sounds around us became quieter.  As we simply spoke of the magic of serenity.  Like it longed to be heard.  

Whisper the word .............. "serenity."  There's no need for a prayer full of words.  You simply need one.....  "serenity."  You reach that place of comfort when time floats freely in the thinness of air, and it automatically leads you to the next part of the prayer.... "Thank you."

 

Though it can't be forced, serenity is really all around us if we just take the time to slip into it's magical soft scented powers every once in a while. It may mean a soak in a tub filled with aromatic essences, or an early morning wake up to be alone with your thoughts, or an intimate candlelit moment of lovemaking. It may be the feeling one attains after a completing a mid morning jog, or sitting down on a train heading home after a long day of interacting joyfully with a group of enthusiastic learners..........our serenities are as unique as our thumbprints. But, the feeling is always the same. It is a peaceful centred existence when all of a sudden we can honestly say.....

All is right in the world. All is right with the world....  For a moment, I touched the hem of Heaven.

May you find your source of poetic peacefulness at least once a day and may you share yours with a friend. 

 ps.  J and H?  Serenity is sorting through beach glass with glee allowing it to be the lead in a new fabulous piece of art. It will be the flow of the creative process that will lead you to its door......

smiling radiance

bliss exists in the spirit of sweet surrender
when bodies blend into the

heat of hungry kisses
slow dancing
and tangled limbs
yearning to feel rippling tickletouches

at the ledge steeped in tenderness
this sensuous heartbeat
of melting madness
tips us beyond reason

beyond witness

transporting us on a sinful ride of radiance....

smiling radiance.

Bliss 

speaks from a place so beautiful,
envelopes us in a shared internal world
moves us into a deeper jazzy chasm
where vulnerable need dwells

it plays the sweet sound of the sax
 

we long to remain entwined.

humans yearn to remain entwined.

when surrendering is all we can do
when surrendering is all we want to do...
bliss blesses us with its presence

dappled in the elegance of abandoned reasoning


there are some moments in life better than others aren't there? 

when was the last time you were kissed by bliss? 

isn't it time to seek it out again? 

may those tickletouches taste like fresh mint.

reflections

I easily could slide right into the "coulda" "woulda" "shoulda's" tonight as I reflect back on a whole month away from the office.  But I won't.  There is no point.  I had such big plans and a list of to do's I was so determined to complete.  But, here I sit, surrounded by a tossed up home (honestly, it was orderly yesterday morning and everything had been wiped down, dusted off, vaccuuuuuuuumed, and mopped) after a flurry of fine feathered teens arrived, conquered and then left in a blink, and I wonder just exactly what it was that I did for a whole month.  A lot.  Most of which I never would've expected let alone planned..........

OK, I have this problem with unrealistic expectations.  I keep making them, and they keep biting me in the arse.  You'd think I'd learn. But, then again, I have never been through a marriage break up, so who knew what to expect?  And since there are very few guidelines as to how to deal with it all, and the ones I have encountered I've basically tramped on them, I should've known that any expectations were goofy.

So, in no order........ my thoughts........on a month of spontaneity, absurdity, difficulty, liberty, but definitely not simplicity.

1. Joy is always attainable..... just make your gaze beautiful
2. Late night front porch chats while being served mojitos is something I could easily grow accustomed to.
3. Sometimes it takes longer to accomplish a goal when your head is in the clouds.  But, you can still get there.
4. Girlfriends are a blessing beyond words.
5. Blue glow balls are a necessity for healing tides to work their magic.
6. I love the company of men.
7. Don't think you're grounded and ready to take on a big project when you can't even decide on the dinner menu.
8. It's amazing what you can overcome if you set your mind to it.  But, if your mind is tired, let it rest.
9. Feeling crappy and thinking sorrowful thoughts?  Do something active. Or dive under the covers and let it pass.  Or sit and meditate.  Or put on some music and let yourself blend into its medicinal harmonies. Or visit a waterfalls with a friend.
10. My confidence in my writing is increasing.  Just gotta wait for the focus and the spirit to catch up before I can give it the attention I want it to.
11. Taking risks is easier when you've been hurt deeply.  You just have to be more cognizant that the choice you make may not be the best one.  Whatever.......... it always leads to something very interesting, no matter what the choice was.
12. I've rediscovered my love of the colour orange.
13. If at first you don't succeed, turn around and seek out a hug from a friend who makes great coffee and who will set your world straight again in one visit.
14. Prayer is only a blink away......
15. Tell it like it is, go with your gut feelings. 
    
16. I am absolutely blessed to have the support and encouragement all around me.
17. Always hire a cabana boy to help you with outdoor chores.
18. The Saint John River valley is my sanctuary.
19. Spencer's Island continues to resonate eternity.
20. The sun and salt air is the best medicine for a weary girl.
21. Glaswegian accents make me smile.
22. I can survive heatwaves and still make a big Canadian breakfast without passing out in my own sweat.
23. Nap and nap often.
24. Emails and phone calls bring love and strength from all around the world.......  amazing!
25. Yearnings need to be listened to.
26. Heart pain blows!  Healing happens on its own time.
27. I am a counsellor.  This is  not negotiable.  I have been counselling since I was 15 years old.  It is who I am, not what I do.
28. I may be competent, but I may not be confident.  It'll come...........
29. You just never know.
30. I need more time to let my spirit catch up.
31. God's abundance is wrapped most beautiful in the gifts of family and friendship.
32. Simplicity is almost impossible to attain, especially if you keep fueling your own fire.
33. Life can combust and turn to dust in a blink and a wink.  Surround yourself in compassion by sharing yours.
34. Freedom is beautiful.
    

I'm not ready to return to work.  Who is really? I wasn't able to fully leave the office behind which I had hoped to do........... not think about it or be pulled into some events percolating there and this really disappoints me.  Too much on the horizon there to be able to let go of all thoughts of the place and it definitely impacted my thoughts and daily meanderings.  As much as my goal has been to try to keep life at a dull roar, I didn't succeed.  

Today, I am back to work.  I have no choice in the matter, unless of course my money ship comes sailing in.  May the Captain of the ship not be a fool.....or at least a handsome handyman fool.  Or better yet...... perhaps I need to recognize more fully that I am the Captain, steering this ship with a little help from the ones around me. 

ps.  The wild rose photos were taken in Spencer's Island NS last week.

Solitude

"I am afraid to show you who I really am, because if I show you who I really am, you might not like it and that's all I got."

The true meaning of solitude reaches far beyond the pursuit of recharging one's batteries and floating in a place of tranquility.  Spending time alone to do just that is important, but it isn't the purpose of real humbling solitude.  I think I'm finally realizing the difference.  I want time to enjoy my own company and feel the grounding it provides.  But, I also want to be brave enough to seek out the real solitude where the soul wrestling occurs. 

I have only dipped my toe in this place........ well, maybe I've waded around in the reflection pool where aloneness adorns a different cape.  But, like most people I fill my days up with interactions, activity and busy work, leaving not a speck of time to begin to undress the protective layers and masks I put on for good company.  I try to go beyond the wading.  More often than not when I begin to feel that sense of unprotected discomfort, when my raw vulnerability is visible  I just want to hide from the hurtful memories or the sinful admissions that move in too close......

When they start to cross my boundaries by entering the room like angry apparitions, my first inclination is to flee!  I phone a friend, tend to a bunch of errands, start writing, take a swan dive into my work.  I start scheduling appointments, turn on the TV, get involved in helping someone else solve a problem.  I organize a dinner party, gather people around me, and brainstorm a list of "to do's" that all of a sudden become so important to my life.  I fret about others, fill the air with music, avoid prayer,  numb myself with a glass of wine.

I'm no different than you.  We are conditioned to hold on with all the strength we have to the roles and responsibilities which we allow society as well as the close people in our lives to define us.  We define ourselves that way.  It massages our egos.  It puts a protective coating on between the starkness of being awake in the dark.  Who wants to feel the deep reckoning associated with brokenness?   It is a frightening place to dwell. BUT.... and it's a really big BUT .... it is the dwelling place which eventually frees us to experience the Hand of God.

Though every single activity I listed does have a place in our lives and can enhance our very existance, it is all life window dressing.  Being loved, feeling a sense of belonging, clinging to the sense of importance in our community fuels our purpose.  However, if we are using it to keep away from the deafening silence of solitude, we are missing out on facing the truth.  WE are missing out on our best opportunity to be fully present to our authentic spiritual self.  We are missing out on finding the avenue that has the potential to lead us to clarity and to being with God.  We are missing out on the potential to experience a sense of salvation and cleansing because in order to get to that level of unburdening, we have to walk through a minefield of self reflection horrors that leave us realizing just how sacredly alone and weak we are. 

When was the last time you stated just how busy you are?  Are your days crammed tight with one activity after another?  So much so that you fall in a heap into bed with no a speck of energy left in your mind, body and soul?  Have you ever thought that perhaps you have set up your life like this to avoid solitude? The real meaningful solitude?

Earlier this week, I had a terrible day.   I felt miserable from morning to night.  My energy was depleted.  It was like I had no reserves.  There was a lactic acid tension build up burning just under my skin.  I felt heavy, burdened, overwhelmed, incapable of making a decision.  I had a list of "to do's" circulating in my head and yet I didn't seem to have the capacity to get a damn thing done.  All of a sudden, I succumbed to feeling sorry for myself all the while I self flagellated through negative mind talk about not living up to the expectations I had posted up on the life bulletin board.  Like it mattered.  Like everything was so bloody important.  Then I realized that the anger and frustration were stemming from my failure to avoid solitude. 

Eventually, I pondered why I was avoiding being alone with myself.  What was I afraid of?  Perhaps I wouldn't like what may emerge from the blindside of who I am?  But maybe this emergence would allow me to discover a part of myself that has a new way of looking out at the world?  Maybe if I explore the ticking emotions by letting go of my ego driven defenses, I may be able to move forward in a different direction?  Maybe by sitting inside solitude........ pushing through the noise would take me to a place where silence soothes rather than agitates?  What do I have to lose, I thought.  I'm not happy now.  I can't hurt anymore than I do?  It can't be that monstrously ugly, can it?? 

So I did...........I sat in the dark, taking one breath at a time.  And you know what?  Eventually, the noise settled.   My breathing settled.  My brain began to clear.  My emotions began to settle down.  I began to hear the harmony of the world all around me......... the outside noises as well as the inside ones.  Eventually a new perspectives, still in their infancy began to be offered up as possibilities...... 

I kept breathing.......... not asking any particular questions and not requesting any particular answers.  I took the pressure off both myself and God.  I just let myself be.   And you know what floated up into my thoughts?  

Forgive.  God does.

We are all doing our best....

Where I am now is where I should be.

What matters today is not what will matter eventually.

Forgive, you're loved even with the ugly bits of you.

It's like paddling against the current when you avoid something as necessary as being completely alone.  Vulnerability in and of itself is so starkly ugly because it pries open our internal eyes to see the places inside that are unloved.  Perhaps these places are  unloved because they feel like total strangers..... distrusting, potentially dangerous?   It's strange how much energy we blow off just by trying to avoid something rather than tapping into it to learn anew?  Redirecting this energy just may be the ticket to letting yourself off the hook of perfection? 

It's worth looking into.  What have you got to lose really?  I mean, if God loves you, you can't be all that bad. 

the breath of shadows

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

letting the clouds float by....

We could talk for hours, you and I
painting life-picture stories.
I'd enjoy that. Would you?

We could talk forever,
adding bits upon bits of information
shedding a few skin layers
catching glimpses of commonalities
asking questions
piecing people puzzles together...
Your people puzzle
My jigsaw of a life....
Unfinished edges remain.
Unfound pieces left under the carpet
as we talk in circles
around and around and around......

for hours we could take turns treading water....
spilling our thoughts out in rambling words
listening to the uplift and downshifts of our vocal tones
watching expression ooze out of our pores
rippling spills of thought bubbles
floating in the air of new knowing....
Truth is within reach if we let our guards go home.

We share what we have gleaned of ourselves.
We share from our own viewpoint.
The more we gab and jab,
the more we grab hold of our common clay
our blended shades of light.
Formulating unique people prints.....
like finger prints but bigger.
shaplier
"wholier"
illumineer..... ing stories masking the whispers caught in the back of our throats....

What do you really want to say?
Tell me how you feel about it....

Out it pours.....
stretching back into the vaults of nostalgia
leaning forward into the foggy dreams of what may be
surrounding unfolding immediacy.
encompassing facts, ideas, thoughts,
feelings....
only the comfortable ones confessed.....always remaining entwined in intellectual fabric
where trust knocks but isn't welcomed yet.

What about the discomfortable ones?
Why are they shamed into repression?

We can talk forever, filling each other with so much of ourselves and still not really know one another.
We could live side by side for years and still never break through to meaning.
We have the capacity to fill the airwaves right up to the invisibly tough boundary lines like the TV midnight weather lady who forecasts facts backed up by science....

high pressure, low pressure.....
stormfront lines on the horizon,
do we choose to remain in the safety net?
acceptable
expectable
predictable
controlled by intellectual calculations.

until....
until.....

something mysterious and holy happens....
paint splashes onto our life-story canvas
a new puzzle piece is revealed....
WE both grab for it because it is the same.
THEN! The weather predictions don't follow the weather lady's script!

The change in air pressure bursts the glistening thought bubbles floating in the air, and out spills common feelings
raining down on me and you....
revealing honesty from each tender drop.

In a split moment, our guards run for cover and we are left reflecting upon one another as Truth holds up the mirror.
"Not bad!
Not bad".....we cry as we see the imperfections displayed as beauty marks, sending shivering affirmation and acceptance. "What were we so darn afraid of??"

Knowing transforms into understanding.
Understanding blends into a feeling of communion.
Now, let's restart from here......
We can talk for hours from here......

Can I call you Beautiful?? Because you are...... 

Loved as you are always....   

dining room memories.

It barely fits 8 people sitting snuggly when the table is set.  It can feed many happy folks when I push everything to the side and serve a buffet.  It has been decorated with chinzy balloons, banners and crepe streamers.  It has been set up with votives and tapers flickering dinner light.  It has been turned into a haunting halloween howl, an Easter egg dipping den, a place to do homework, crafts and basket filling, a place to play cardgames, boardgames, a place to sketch out plans.

There are days when it looked elegant in its own humble way, and other days it was a creative mess during project contruction.  Flowers, cut from my garden or given to me by the one who loves a beautiful bouquet as much as I do often takes frontstage of the centrpiece.   Of the spaces in my home, my little dining room has been transformed more than any other.  If my kitchen is the heart of this house, my dining room is the open hands of giving. With love I have served many meals to  friends and family in that space. 

Today, I remembered so many good times as I began to freshen it up after 12 years with the same paint on the walls.   I didn't expect to be inundated with memories....silly me!  As I put the second coat on the windowsills and began prepping the room for a facelift,  the voices, the nusic, the ambiance, interactions, conversations, reunions, met me full on.

Initially, I was struck by the memories of when we redid it the first time when Max was a baby.  I remembered how I scraped the wall paper one square foot at a time because Max only ever wanted to nurse.  So, I would nurse him and then put him in his car seat and move him around the dining room with me as I scraped.  It took forever, but what I remember learning about it is how sometimes you can't look at a WHOLE project because it overwhelms you and then you don't get started.  You have to take it one bite at a time. 

Then, I realized it was a lesson I needed to revist and reflect on again today because it is an analogy for so many of life's bumps and bruises too.  Its the lesson I embraced when i began writing again..... I didn't have the time to write the novel I wanted to, but if I just posted one piece on the blog daily, I would eventually have enough for a novel.  Both have happened.

If only we had tried to take the issues in our marriage I pondered,  one bite at a time and not let the accumlated problems overwhelm us and smear our way of seeing things.... and how we felt.  Mostly how we felt.  If only we had applied the same philosophy.  But, we didn't and now it's too late.  My redecorating pushed this thought to the forefront as I celebrated and mourned the radical changes in my life and the life of my family and friends.  When a marriage implodes, the impact reverberates beyond the two people who expressed the vows. If only........ can't dwell there too long.

I was  flooded with all of the wonderful wonderful memories of dinners we had in that little dining room.  As my tears flowed, I tuned into the voices and music..........the laughter and companionship......... the debates and the stories......... the smiles and the gratitude you only ever feel right in the core of your heart when you're surrounded by people who love you and you love.  

Certain dinners came to mind. I relived many of them. The VERY first one with Heidi and Andrew right after Jamie had  finished painting it!  And how I ended up downstairs with a wretched crying Max while he entertained people who didn't know what it was like to be around a baby!   The reunion dinners with Bill and Helen and Jim and Ev while the kids played somewhere else  .......... Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving.........birthday parties when the dining room was decorated with streamers............ when the dining room was turned into a buffet for our Ground Hog day parties, and Open houses....... the times when Max would have the 3 of us laughing so hard on normal evenings when it was just the 4 of us.  Sundays.  Sunday dinners catching up and planning for the week always had music playing in the background.

It's such a little space, but it holds the music of love, lauighter, knship, family, ............. it holds many many words I pulled out of the air to write about.  It holds early morning thoughts and prayers when I was up writing and my family was sound aseleep on a Sunday morning ..... the crisp winter light refelcting on the snow outside.  I love writing at the dining room table.

It is where we were at our best......... hosting, being parents, being a couple...... sharing. This we agree on.  Man we worked well together in this little space.... me serving, providing, orchestrating the meals (in my element), and Jamie keeping the conversation, wine and music flowing........ what warms my heart more than anything is that there are many people in my life who hold their own memories of evenings spent right in this space....... late night conversations that led to learning more about one another.  Beautiful connections. 

One of the most memorable dinners?  We were sharing Christmas dinner with three families.  The magic of the season was present with full hearts. The adults sat around the dining room table.  The kids sat 5 feet away at their own table set up in the living room. The music was on.  The fire blazing in the fireplace.  The Christmas tree sparkled in tiny lights.  Candles were burning all around the two rooms.  Every one was in the mood to celebrate.  

I had placed photos on everyone's plates in random order....a photo of each person attending.  After grace I asked everyone to look at the picture of the person in the photo and share a memory or a thought about that person.  Sometimes my attempts like this fall flat.  This time for some reason, it rose beyond my expectations.  Even though the ages ranged from 10 years old to 45,  what was shared, and the insight expressed left this group with a sense of love and belonging that permeated into a meal of thanksgiving where stories were passed along on their own platter.   What warms my heart is that if I was to ask the kids who attended to choose one of their favourite Christmas memories, this moment of talking about the person int he photo inevitably is mentioned.  So simple, yet so poignant. 

It took me the whole day to primer this tiny dining room.  I kept having to quit and catch my breath again...... oh and to change the music.  I cried openly, mourning the loss.  I shed the tears of joy and gratitude too.  I tried to put aside the meals that had been painfully emotional since last Christmas, knowing now that there was one person at the table who had already moved out of the house emotionally, spiritually......... I did though reflect on the new variations of people who have sat around the dining room table when the silence and hurt was served even if no one could face the music.  I've served many meals last spring to my broken family and then retreated to my room so that the kids could have time with their Dad.  It turns out that of all the rooms in this little  house, it is the dining room that has absorbed the transitional times for the whole family. 

Lately though, the laughter and the stories are beginning to return.   This past week for example, it was just Max and I sitting in this space one evening.  The mood was bouyant and the conversation flowed back and forth in a bantering sharing way.  It ran the normal gamut of topics.  It felt right.  It felt comfortably lovely. Afterwards, we cleared the table and cleaned up the dishes together, continuing the discussion we were having on our dreams of travelling. 

So, the room has finally been painted with a primer ready to take on new colour, a new look.  But before I rolled on the white, I painted a few words on the walls............. "renewal" and "bless this space with love."  You won't be able to see the words once its finished, but I know the blessings are there..... I know that if I stumble saying grace as the sole one at the helm, I can look over at the wall and hear it encourage me to find the words........ 

This dining room will soon be ready to host a few good parties........ and many many family meals.   I'll toast to that. 

Post photos will follow..................

 

lying and sneaking and cheating, oh my.

 

Sad how we live in a society so corupt of the values we espouse but never apply.  Sad how we have it in ourselves a gene that makes us so interested in the pain of another.  We have grown accustomed to as well as numbed by the mean antics of others applied to another human being.  Have we tripped the light on empathy and respect?  Do we live in a place of denial where our vitriolic hurtful actions get cleansed by the neurotic delusions that what we do doesn't hurt another person.  Does voyeurism, no matter what the cost,  trump doing the right thing?  

Values, particularly the key ones tied to humanity and living a life where kindness, integrity faithfulness, loyalty, and love, seem like they have become fleeting thoughts (oh, that would be a nice idea our brains say) rather than applied actions.  There are so many bald face liars out there, its difficult to know who is an imposter and who isn't. 

Lying is an art and if you're good at it, my God you can fool anyone.  Except yourself.  Oh, sure you can carry on living in a place of denial.  You can surround yourself with others who believe your lies and grand illusions.  You can even talk yourself into believing another reality than what is the truth.  Heck, you can even play the role of victim so beautifully that you convince even the most sceptical being.  But one day?  The curtain will lift.  The most brilliant white light will be shining directly on you.  And all of a sudden, every grey hair, pock mark, scar, and wrinkle.... every shivering quivery lie, every moment you were sneaky, voyeristically snooping into another person's life just for a thrill will be visible to YOU!

Don't think you're invisible.  Don't ever believe other's are blind to the way you have chosen to live your life void of applying the values you so carefully collected every Sunday while attending church.  Oh!  You stopped attending??? You may have a beautiful sweet sounding voice.  Who knows?  You may always carry yourself surrounded by a breeze of supposed innocence so that many get pulled into your fake humility.  Just be aware that you are nakedly exposed......... take a look.  Mirror, Mirror.  

Justify.  Justify your actions.  Can you do it?  Why is it that people can rarely walk their talk?   Say one thing?  Do the right thing.  

Action ................ Reaction.   My turn...... I'm acting.

Lying and sneaking and cheating make me want to wretch.  

ps.  And to the three or so UNB readers who have been scouring my blog for extensive "visits" over the past couple of days?  I'm assuming you were looking for a voyeuristic buzz?  'm blogging this one especially for you.  Hope you enjoyed the posts you carefully summoned up from your workstations.  Hope it was titilating enough to take you away from what you should've been doing.  Working!  Shalom.

soaked in ancient peace

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

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

Numbed, his only wish was to soften it.....to drink enough to drive his anger, his grief, his sorrow far enough away so that there was room to find a resting place where that ever evasive peace clung in the air. But, it seemed like that blue water tranquility was only a mirage. 

He hadn't felt relief in months. It showed in the dark circles under his eyes, in the haunting settled in his eyes. Others relied on him to be the provider, to be the anchor and here he was adrift, floating aimlessly in swift currents. Failure....failure.....he felt like a complete and utterly broken man. The only thing he could think of was escape. He wanted to run away.  But it wasn't an option.  Rock bottom and alone, he had to shore himself up to stay.....to face the music.  "How," he thought........ "how am I going to tell me familly?  They rely on me.  They see me as the pillar of strength.  What an imposter I have been."

As he grabbed the bottle and poured himself another full tumbler, the night began to swallow him whole. His thoughts rushed together like a head on train crash. The sound, a combination of clashing cymbals and the high pitched of metal on metal brakes felt like it hit the front of the inside of his head with a wild cacophony of fear. Tinnitus of the spirit. It made him feel sick to his stomach. 

The only thing he could think of was to sit in the silence soaked in regret. There was nothing to look forward to in the morning.....nothing that couldn't be done on any other day. He felt so far removed from the rest of the world. The thought of seeing himself sitting on the sidelines while everyone else got up and went to work, school....destinations.....made him shiver.  

Open wounded raw alone.  Salt stinging bleeding.  Broken.

Lost in complete self-absorbed mourning, he neglected to hear  a person enter the room and turn on the stereo. Music began to play softly through the dark tunnel he was sitting in. It was a melodic comforting hymn which instead of disrupting his thoughts,  the soothingness invited him to fall into them. Through the echo of memory, he recognized the voice and the song....and could feel it's aural massage lifting him out of himself. His  breathing deepened to a calm. Instead of thinking of his situation, he wrapped  himself in the tune.  He allowed himself the luxury of surrendering those loud penetrating monsterthoughts to slip away........ 


He listened.........

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

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

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

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

All of his defenses melted away.  The anger and fear which had been his companions for so long drifted away while weary fatigue peeled off the last layers of defense.  It was then that he recognized the man who had joined him in the room.  Though he had know way to block the man's entrance, he tried to pull himself up and out of the chair but found he couldn't.

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

 

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

Without words, the broken man invited the stranger to sit down in the chair next to him, but the stranger chose to sit quietly on the rug in front of him. As the music played on like soothing bathwater pouring in the background, the stranger looked up right into the broken man's sad eyes and whispered....

"Tell me your sorrows.....let me help you carry them.  You are not alone."

The broken man began to weep.  Tears streamed like a river down his cheeks leaving the taste of salt on his lips as he poured out his heart in a confession riddled with the pain of failure.   Without saying a word, Jesus, leaned forward, put his hand on the man's knee and wept quietly too.

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

When the man finished spilling out his heart, emptying the toxic fears from his soul, he heard Jesus reply,  "Be still........sorrows are the gateway to your enlightenment.  Sorrows strip away our ability to fight off the sober reality of failure.  It also takes us to a place where soul wrestling solitude needs to be affirmed.  Let it be.  Listen to God.  Seek true solitude."  

Jesus paused.  The waves which once crashed like cymbals in the silence inside the man began to calm.  Together they sat in quiet breathing.  Just breathing. 

"Stop and pray.  Be still. Stay silent.  Let go of the wordless thoughts....... Your night will soon turn to dawn. You are never alone when it is time to face your haunts.  Together we will seek out the healing soaked in ancient peace.  I am here in your solitude."

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

kiss the world beautiful......

Beautiful

Luminous

Engaging

A feast for the soul

Surprising

Enlightening

Arresting

Nurturing

Affirming

Life celebrating

Touching

Moving

Reflecting faith

Heart tripping

Wondrously enhancing

Awe inspiring

Motivating

Radiant.........simply radiant.

Today,

I heard......

the song of the birds

the voice of a troubadour

the words of a friend.

Vivaldi streaming out into the open air....

laughter

I felt......

the touch of a loved one

the peace of tranquility

the marvel of a connection.

the embrace of gratitude.

the breeze of a summer's day. 

kissed

I inhaled......

the aroma fresh mown grass

the sun bursting with rain

the lingering scent of clean laundry

the wafting essence of lavender bubbles

perfume

I tasted.....

fresh strawberries

cold water

a crisp glass of wine

pink lipstick on my lips

peppermint coolness

love

I saw.....

my son laugh so hard he couldn't speak

a doe grazing on a neighbour's front lawn

a hummingbird sipping nectar from a flower

my own reflection

the smile of a friend.....

the eyes of desire

humans

At twilight, I watched darkness envelop the trees leaving them as unmoving silouettes against a cloudless sky.  Tangerine light seeped through the branches, ..... the last remnants of a sunset I had watched reflect off the river as it drew closer to the treetopped hills.  Not a ripple on the river tonight.  Calm as though it wasn't moving..... as though there was no current moving below the surface, the river received the light and bounced it back up to kiss the little islands and shoreline greenery. Beautiful.

Beauty.  It is all around us.  As I sat quietly reflecting on the light that shone beauty on my day, I was surprised by how many of these moments I encountered.  In one day.  Not that it was any particularly special day. 

Or maybe it was. 

On second thought.......Yes, it was.
They are all special.  Especially Sundays.

On the surface, my Sunday seemed calm as though it wasn't moving.  It may not have been moving too quickly, but it unfolded so beautifully that by the time I found myself sitting alone in twilight silence, my cup was filled with the grace of God's creative magic.

It is now nighttime.  I am content.  Almost as content as I feel when I'm kneeling on the thwarts of a canoe.  When I awoke this morning, I put on Martyn Joseph's music to accompany me while I made breakfast and tidied up..... I listened to this beautiful man sing while remembering the moment at the Greenbelt Festival when we bumped into one another in front of the grandstand. He hugged me and gave me a kiss on the cheek as though we had been friends for a long time.  It warmed my heart.  I had just met him that weekend, had spoken to him during late night gatherings back at the hotel.  

When we met in front of the grandstand, he asked me if I had time to pick up a CD that had been put aside for someone.  I told him it was no problem..... He then told me to tell the Manager at the music tent that he wanted me to have a copy too.  As I listened to him sing in my kitchen this morning, our encounter vividly jumped out into the forefront of my memories.... as did the two concerts I attended when this troubadour was onstage.  His CD is entitled....... "Kiss the World Beautiful......."  

I took him up on it today. And you know what?  The world kissed back.  Beautifully.  Thank you Martyn.

I want to kiss the world beautiful

I want to kiss your lips tonight.

Sometimes it's just more important to love

Than to always have it right.