pressed flowers and other revealing things

 These ones stayed..............

I lost count on the number of boxes I filled with books during one of the most humid nights of this summer.   There were times when I hesitated.... caught by a memory of when one of them had been added to the shelves.  A Christmas present...anniversary.....birthday gifts.  The much coveted novel, enjoyed immensely.  For the most part however, I was on a roll.  With a glass of wine on hand, and my musical preferences to keep me company, I spent hours decluttering, cleaning and stacking the boxes for future retrieve.  

My focus tumbled around 2:45 am.  Not quite the witching hour.  Almost. 

I came face to face with a  large reference tomb of a book . My resolve melted momentarily.  It had nothing to do with the book itself.  Rather, it was the pieces of paper towels sticking out of through the pages that caught my eye.  Caught breath.  Wavering balance.  My initial reaction was to recoil like I had seen a water moccasin curled up on the bottom shelf hissing at me!  It was just a book for goodness sake.  How in the world can something so inanimate create such a visceral reaction?  Well, try living in a house whose familial foundation was startled by thundering betrayal.  There are little emotionally ticking trinkets mocking you for months afterwards.  Bloody loud they can be! 

As soon as I saw them, a realization hit me in the gut.  Inside the creases of the paper towels were beautifully pressed flowers.  Pansies, daisies, forget me knots I had picked from our first house and placed in the book many years ago to dry.  My intentions back then were to use them to decorate candles or note paper. 

But, then I got busy.  The craft project was forgotten. The flowers were abandoned.

Two children to raise.

A career that kept me busy.

A home to run. 

A marriage to....................?

I took a bit of time to look at the flowers laying open on paper. My hands open to hold them.   I took in their delicate beauty.  I remembered where I had picked them...out of the garden of our first house.   I cried a little.  Not enough moisture to bring them back to life.....just enough to moisten my cheeks.  Then, I tossed them into the trash. 

I've tossed a lot of stuff along with rearranging pictures and painting walls.  Enlightening....... and lightening. Everytime I've reached that place when I could let go of "the stuff"  my whole body feels like it is somehow defying gravity for a thin air second. 

To get to this head space, I have worked hard taking one step at a time.  There are some who feel that I should be farther along the path. How do I know this?  I hear it.  Then, there are some who comment on how well I'm doing.  I hear this too.  Who the hell knows..... except me.  I am where I am.......   More importantly, I am fine with where I am.  Right here.  Living.  Moving forward at my own pace.  If there is anything I can control, its my own pace and my own readiness to tackle yet another piece of the "letting go" puzzle.  Those overcrowding yakety yak books were my chosen target the other night. When the urge hits, you've got to move into that headspace and go to it even if it takes all night long..... which it did. 

I put the kettle on as the sun raised it's orange eyebrow over the river horizon.  The boxes of dusty books were stacked high in my kitchen along with a few holding memories of past gift giving days.  My shelves had been scrubbed down with lemon scented cleaner.  More minimalist, they were reborn with the novels and reference books that were mine and the kids as well as a few bright coloured clay vases, a couple of woven baskets, a few framed photos....  I swear I heard the white painted wood heave a sigh of relief as I stretched out my own muscles while realizing for the first time how tired I was.  

Content too. I hadn't felt that broad contentment in a long time......

The sun rose into the peace of a hazy summer morning, accompanied by the choir of birdsong that always makes me feel happily connected with the ground my barefeet touch.  At that moment, I felt alone, but not lonely.  All of those sense of accomplishment emotions were lightly stirring the remnants of my energy.  Gladness. Wing fluttering gladness kissed by the sweetness of honey nectar.   It was a moment this summer that I will never forget because even though it seems like just another chore found on a "to do" list, it was so much more than that.  

A few of the people in my life who have walked with me knew what I had been up to that night.  I can honestly say that their spirit tapped me from time to time and kept me moving forward. I was always in good hands. When it was late enough in the morning, I phoned one of them........ in  a tired but satisfied voice, I announced that my latest decluttering mission was accomplished.  

Full of encouragement that only comes with understanding he invited me over to his place where there was a cool bed in an air conditioned room......... away from the rest of the familiar world.  I took him up on his offer, and as he went about his own chores, tackling his to do list, I slept more soundly than I had in months, lullabied by the constant whir of cool cool air, while being checked on from time to time by the caring eyes of a dear friend. His kindness I will always hold onto.

A month later, when I walk into my living room (which will in itself be transformed very soon) I can feel the refreshened difference.  This particular weight is gone.  All it took was to reveal the flowers caught in the spine of a book to let go of years of dusty words.  When the time was right.  It is that simple.  You just gotta be ready on your own terms.....

ps.  You know, the last time I had pulled an all-nighter before this task filled adventure sure had a different reason for it!  And it had nothing to do with chores!!!!  hahaha!  gotta have another one of those types soon too!  :)

it's been too long......

"The Mystery never leaves you alone.
Behind your image,
below your words,
above your thoughts,
the silence of another world waits.
A world lives within you."
John O'Donohue

Hi.  It's been way too long.  How have you been?  

I've been out in the world looking around, absorbing landscapes, seascapes, peoplescapes.  I've also spent quite a bit of time visiting a very different world inside me...... different than the one I can see with my outside eyes.... very different than the one I saw this time last year with my inside eyes.  

For the first time in 6 years, none of my sauntering sojourn was captured in words published on this blog.  My writing flow slowed right down to leaky faucet drops. I have about 50 half written pieces sitting in my blog drafts.  I'd make attempts to turn on the tap, but the well seemed to dry out very quickly.  At first it stunned me.... made me jittery uncomfortable.  Alone.  Afraid that writing was just a phase. 

Settling into that comfort zone where the pictures and prose magically danced inside my head no longer was an option I could turn to.  It felt like I had said all that I wanted to......... all I needed to and that anything more was just going to be a repeat.  Topics would float happily through my thought process and dance their way right down the drain along with my attention.  Along with my interest.  It was a mystery.  Until one day........ my inner voice nudged me into another direction.  The fear of never writing again left me once I listened to that voice..... and followed it's advice.

I began to revisit the pieces I had posted here over the course of the past two years.  It was time.  Time to assess it, absorb it, criticize it, enjoy it.  It was time to read rather than write. My energy had altered. I began peering into the world within captured during a time in my life comparable to a field of fireworks unpredictably exploding in a multitude of loud bangs, streams of teary sparklights tumbling down and bright flashes of expressive colour!  

Healing, taking risks, learning to cope while growing as "a work in progress" human being, along with the sunrise of new perspectives were the gifts that fed my courage to look at what I had created. The place "behind your image, below your words...." is where truthfulness of revealed reflections dwells.  You can't "go there" until you're ready. 

It was so interesting when the little bell tingled to inform me that for some reason I WAS ready to tackle the review because it felt like it had come out of the blue.  I began by culling through the myriad of posts, turning them into documents so I could have a printed copy in my hands.  Without a true plan in place, I started filtering through the pieces, wondering where these written words of mine would take me and where the heck they all came from!!! 

At the same time, also out of the blue, I was offered a little cottage to use at my leisure.  I couldn't believe it!  For a year or so, I've been openly expressing that I would love to have a place to go that was quiet to write without interuptions or responsibilities.  When the offer came from a new friend I have met this past year through attending church and getting involved in some community work,  I knew instantly that this unbelievable gift was no coincidence.  It was a prayer answered.  I'm convinced of it.  And so, my reading began on a porch that overlooked a wild grassy field and  the mouth of a beautiful river in the silence I had longed for.   

Cricket silence.  Yes.

After the sun set with spectacular glory, I continued to sit until the stars gathered and the fireflies glitter-danced just above the darkened field.  It was then that the poetic pictures in my head returned.  It was then that a thematic structure appeared to me that my separate writing pieces could naturally fall into a collective meaning.  I had the found the golden thread to weave with.  

To everything there is a season.........

Many of the pieces that I think are worth tweaking and sculpting were much more revealing and personally raw than I realized as I was writing and posting.  Some of it was quite tough to read.... to acknowledge that even the poetry and stories I had thought I had created as fiction from my imagination were littered with bits of me.  Gut kicking loud.  Reassuring too.... because it has shown me just how much I've learned....how far I've travelled. 

As I read, I realized that writing was my saving grace...... my breath,  my crutch, my teacher, my therapist. My trusty loving companion that never rejected nor unloved me.  It still is. I wouldn't be as whole now (with a variety of life kicking nicks visible both on and under the surface of my skin)  if I hadn't been churning it out day after day for 6 years.  Thank God.   

This part of the process continues in a pace slower than I would have predicted.  Silent in between time is needed to creatively digest.  That little voice informs me with the same little knock when its time to put the folder of raw writing aside and focus on outer landscape trips.  I've been on quite a few of those this summer to.  

Today, I visited my blog in search of a link to a John O'Donohue talk I thought I had posted a couple of years ago.  I never did find it, but I did find a few quotes and gems from him.  While I was skipping through this online place of mine, I felt a strange sense of maternal coziness I had missed.  I knew I had been gone from here too long.... it was time to begin and end a piece..... it was time to click on publish again to connect with YOU.  

Hi.  It's been way too long.....  How have you been?

 

blindness

 

Storm, Edvard Munsch, photo of the Original at MOMA, 

If you look straight into the middle of the sun, you're left with dark spots floating before your eyes. Too much light is blinding. Temporarily. Too much reality is blinding as well. Temporarily. Both shock your system leaving a sense of discomfort you want to flee. What happens to your body if the shocking light stays on and on and on?

Panic
Palpitating heartbeats
Racing thoughts
Shallow breaths
Electric impulses
Sensory overload
Rushing adrenaline........over and over and over......
Anxiety.
If you walk into a theatre after the lights have been turned off.....just before the movie is about to begin, your hands automatically go up in front of you as your grope around for something solid to grasp onto. Darkness disables our sight. Temporarily. "Coping" with our own reality, by repressing, supressing or pushing it off into a recessed corner disables our sight as well. Temporarily. What happens if you continue to live in the absence of light?
Panic
Palpitating heartbeats
Racing thoughts
Shallow breaths
Sensory overload
Anxiety time and again...
Numbness, numbness......dulling the pain......
Depression.

We try to do everything in our power to avoid the extremes.....those deer caught in the headlight moments and those dank dark tunnel times.....especially if they lurk too often. They make us feel completely discombobulated....incapable and weak. Survival mode kicks in and we put up the shell of self absorption, or try to turn our attention on someone else possibly even overreacting to their drama because its a place to put our own anxieties. We turn into helpers, rescuers, lifesavers....or this is how we see ourselves. Others may see it very differently.

Quite often, because we are so determined to avoid our own house of horrors, we overdo our "helping" and get in the way of someone else's growth and learning. I have been guilty of this. Because of some circumstances where I have tried to "help" or to "rescue," I have neglected my own shadowy demons to a point where I realized the light was TOO bright and I completely backed away. Another time that comes to mind as I write this, I pushed too hard to help and drove the person away. I think its called smothering.....or perhaps "s'mothering" is more apt! Not that I did it out of anything but kindness....but I did it for the wrong reasons....to avoid my own shadows. Not good for either side of the equation. It wore me out rather than energized me and it impacted a friendship.

There are times when I wish I had a magic wand to take away someone else's pain. I wish I had a magic wand to take away my own when it comes to visit. But, I don't. No one does. Pain, which is the offshoot of anxiety and depression, gets a very bad rap. It HURTS! But, it is also a necessity for survival and for personal growth. It is essential and according to Paul Brand is "the gift nobody wants." When we FEEL pain, whether its physical or emotional....whether its a great big dark crevasse spiritually.... we must learn to recognize it for what it is.... a beacon, a signal in need of attention.

We never have to go it alone, though it is an option offered to us. Isolation rarely heals because of its massive potential for internal cyclical ruminations which eventually leads to a sense of believing there is no exit from the darkened theatre. But, being rescued is no better as it never allows for new learning from the experience... (and can I just add here that this is THE worst thing a parent can do for their child is to continue to rescue them..... how the heck will they ever learn to personally deal with life???).

Too much light....not enough light......signals we are in crisis. The very best thing you could do for me and the very best thing I could do for you? NOT to go into rescue mode...not to take on someone else's suffering...... Just to quietly sit beside one another right in the middle of the mess. Tough to do, to sit in someone else's suffering, or to allow someone else into your own, but if we can't do that as human beings for one another, then we've completely missed the point of why we are here on this planet taking part in God's creation of humanity aren't we??? This is compassion. Sitting in the suffering.

Interestingly, temporary blindness has the capacity to lead to new sight...."insight..."

So how do we get there? How do seek out that beacon, where the light is just right?? How do we adjust the light so it isn't so darn blinding?? All it takes to make this happen is for one of us to utter three very important words...to a friend, a doctor, a minister, a psychologist, a psychiatrist, a stranger .... someone you can trust....

"Please help me....."

Why is it that we choke on these words so often? Why do we dredge the suffering on by denying we need help?  I think it has to do with internal readiness to allow another to see your flaws.  May we strive to understand that transformation is a life long pursuit fraught with difficult personal admissions.  May we accept the wisdom of Father O'Donohue's words... that beauty derives from the "slow work of integrating the flaw..."   The worst thing we can do is abandon our nasty bits.  However, sometimes it takes a long time to acknowledge then to let light in to flood our flaws with kind goodness. 

Her spirit will continue to teach us good lessons.....

Betty Fox died today.  Her spirit was as strong as her son Terry's.  Her drive just as fierce.  Foisted into the spotlight when Terry's Marathon of Hope gained national attention and enthusiastic support, Betty and the rest of the family supported his dream.  When Terry had to stop his run because his cancer had returned with a vengence and died not so long after he was airlifted home,  the family rallied the rest of the country to embrace the dream of raising money for cancer research.  

Betty took the reins of her son's dream.  30 years later, after touring the country and taking his message beyond our borders, after starting the Terry Fox run which happens every September in most communities from east to west, Betty Fox raised hundreds of millions of dollars.  On her son's behalf.

Anything I've read about her, she was described as a feisty shoot-from-the-hip woman.  Emotional too.  I liked that about her.  She was not afraid of letting the tears fall when she spoke of her son to a classroom full of kids, or to a boardroom full of suits.  The Foundation that became the backbone of the tremendously successful fundraising was her venue.  Her determination to ensure the Fox family retained control of the direction and mission of it is well known.  She knew what she wanted........ to keep Terry's spirit, and  his dream of eradicating cancer moving forward.  With integrity. With very specific parameters on what the Foundation supported.  She was a hands-on hard working dedicated Mother who adopted her son's dream with her whole heart and soul.   The acorn didn't fall too far from the maternal tree. 

I never met Betty Fox, though it never sounded like it would be a difficult thing to do.  The woman was everywhere promoting the Terry Fox runs and the other fundraising events.  But, I honestly felt like I knew her.  We all did.  When she walked onto the Opening Ceremonies stage at the Vancouver Olympics carrying the corner of the Olympic flag along with a wonderfully eclectic group of distinguished Canucks, it was simply joyful.  She looked marvellous.... her famous white hair, her big smile, her natural-ness shone through to all that watched the ceremonies. I think it was the last time I saw her in the media until recently when they announced that she was very ill.  

This woman deserves unbridled recognition.  Her own spirit represents the intensity of love and devotion all parents feel for their children. The success of the Terry Fox foundation belongs to her unrelenting efforts.  It was her lifework, when she decided 30 years ago to turn her grief into productive energy.  We all know, however, she would've traded it all for the gift of having her son alive and well and by her side.   Of course.

Like Terry, Betty will continue to be a role model for every Canadian.  She shared herself and her family with the rest of us.  By so doing, her presence on the landscape and her generosity transformed our individual pursuits.  Never give up.  Do what is right. Find that cure.  Live and love fully.   

So, how can a nation honour her with the respect she has earned a thousand times over?  What gift can we give?  Formal recognition on Parliament Hill is a start.  Important too.  But given her earthy unpretentious nature, what is needed it our embrace of Betty's lifework.  It is up to us to take it on....... to ensure that the good fight continues, to keep the internal flame of her spirit lit.   And since we all have felt like she was a friend of us all......... this will come naturally.  Just like the love of our children.

May she know peace without mourning.  God bless her.  

Betty and Rolly Fox carrying the torch during the Paralympic Games.

oh, the places you go.................

 this morning's sunrise from my back deck....

It was only last Thursday when I didn't think I had a darn thing interesting planned for the weekend.  Feeling a little sorry for myself, I even whined about it.  But, like most of life, if you open up to whatever comes you way, and if you put yourself out there a little bit.............even a tiny bit, there's always a good chance opportunity comes knocking.  From the least expected places.  

The thing about opportunity is that it often sneaks up on you. It rarely knocks because more times than not, it can't find the front door.  Instead, opportunity resorts to sending a flare, a smoke signal, a firefly sizzle of a light in front of darkness.  If you have your head down going about your serious business, working and slogging away, you may miss the tap on the shoulder or the wink from the Cosmos from that sassy opportunity all dressed for an occasion. 

Like a relay race..... if you're running the second lap, you can't be daydreaming about some far away landscape when the breathless runner is about to pass the golden baton to you.  You've gotta be paying attention.  Full frontal focus.  Zippity open to opportunity when it shows, or glows or flows......... 

What I find odd about a jumble of days without a gameplan that ends up becoming full of encounters, connections, good deep conversations, sunshine and shifts in thinking from new ideas?  It takes a bit to process afterward.  When you reflect on the separate activities, they are meaningfully affirming on their own.  THEN, when you take the escalator up to give yourself a chance to see all around you......... to see the collection altogether, you can glean various themes, shared characteristics that heighten the belief in serendipity.  Similar topics discussed.  Similar paths shared.  Agreed upon understanding of what is important in life....... Big picture awareness.

So, I took that escalator up above and what did I see?  Well, this weekend's theme can be summed up with one word:  Recovery. 

Not quite ready.  In the throes of it.  Take a break from it.  Not knowing what to do with it, or how to go about it.  

Recovery. 

Learning how to embrace the vulnerability of it.  Learning that the pain before it was far worse than choosing life altering avenues.  Learning how to admit to a Higher Power.  Learning that one needs to heal.  

To recover. 

• A young man making the transition from a cloistered life wrought with social anxiety to an enrolled student in the fall.
• A middle aged woman who has found true love after many hardships and soul bruises is about to embark on a new shared life.
• A friend who is close to inhaling freedom.... the necessary ingredient in reclaiming her healing and wholeness
• A  family living far away from loved ones and support  who have had MORE than their share of major life upheavals in the course of two months..... from heartbreak to serious illnesses, to losing their Mom/Grandma..... recovery will take time as they focus on the small blessings in the world around them....
• Close friends temporarily living in Christchurch New Zealand near the last quake epicentre... surrounded by resilience and recovery missions.  Amazed by the support they've received, but still quite emotionally startled by their experience.
• A new friend who through a moment of heart stopping grace saw the flint spark of light and has now fully embraced his own recovery by recognizing his authenticity comes from God

.

Me.  I fit here too.  So do you.  We all do. Recovery is lifework.

Whether its from an addiction or a deep gash from mourning, it causes us to be shook up enough to be emptied.  Temporarily.  Recovery is what we attempt when we encounter those negative forces beyond our control, but shake us to our core..... WHEN we are ready, we seek out help.  We admit, and then begin to heal by learning how to let go of pride, debilitating fear, and rationalizations.  We begin to heal when we stop fighting against reality.  Against truth.  Then we allow truth, honesty and vulnerability to be the balm on the wounds....... Painful wounds. 

What amazes me everytime I am given this opportunity to delve into the machinations of recovery, and to share the stories that peel the layers of defensive boundaries away, I realize again how it takes complete and utter emptiness to re-fuel our souls with a new energy.  When there is nothing left in the tank, you can't go anywhere except down on your knees, with no skin left to protect.  From that vantage point....... down in the holy well of tears, a crack forms......... that's always where the light gets in.  And it the light, however dim, that reveals opportunity.  

May we have the strength and the supports to grab hold of the opportunity to recover.  More importantly, may we garner the spirit of courage to grow beyond our wildest dreams into a place of forgiveness of ourselves and others.  

What an amazing weekend.  My life is far more enriched because of all of the encounters and experiences shared with me.  

ps.  My good friends living in NZ just experienced another day of earthquakes.  They are fine..... the recovery continues....... 

the beauty of resilience.....

The other day while at the College, I was standing just outside a classroom quietly talking with a colleague just around the time the students took a break.  (I wonder why we don't call it recess at the College?)  A 25-ish year old student opened the door and stepped out right in front of me.  She was wearing a low cut tank top and jeans. Peaking out of her top were two elaborately designed tatoos of hummingbirds.  In flight. Larger than life. They looked like they were escaping from her breasts.  

Before I could stop myself and gather my sense of decorum, I exclaimed..... "Wow!  I love your hummingbirds! Those little birds fascinate me!" 

Luckily no one around me seemed to consider this a gaff and the student was thrilled that her "birds" were acknowledged.  My enthusiastic outburst  led to hearing the story behind her choice of tattoo. She came to life. Big smiley bright eyes!  Pleasantly surprised that I had even noticed.  I mean, how could one not notice??  The woman has brightly coloured hummingbirds flying out of her breasts and no one comments?  

Her choice of personal skin-art  was a tribute to her Dad who had passed away.  He had a backyard full of hummingbird feeders that lured the little beings to his home every summer.  He loved their vitality.  So does his daughter. 

Serendipitously,  I have been a bit obsessed with these tiny creatures of late because I have a few hummingbirds who have made my backyard their home this summer too.  During times when I've found a few moments to take a relaxing breath over a  morning cup of tea, or an end of the workday sigh, I have watched them with fascination and tried to capture their life essence in a poem. 

I find myself drawn to their energy as they flit and flummer, wings thrumming as fast as plane propellers, from one flower bloom to another seeking sweetness.  Did you know that a hummingbird lives on the tipping edge of dying?  Their full flight bursts exhaust their energy reserves so dramatically that they are constantly on the verge of starvation.  It makes sense.  They rarely stop!  Their busyness and focused determination to fill up their reserves with sugary sustenance seems to defy this fact. 

Hummingbirds exude excitable confidence. Inherently, they use their needle sharpe beaks to hone in on the blossom's soul where honeydrips await.  I watched one hover around a purple lilac with such purpose and focus. His irridescent wings and purple and green sheen body never stopped.   As it reached into every little bloom, I wondered if the little hummer felt like it had won the jackpot!  One flower head.  A thousand honey spots.

The other morning before it was time to head off to work, I sat on the side steps of my deck to enjoy my tea and the view of the river.  The weather this spring has been so wet and gloomy that when the sun manages to push away the grey clouds, there is a stronger sense of hopeful joy in the moment than if we had been blessed with better weather.  

Quiet and still..... grounded.  That's how I felt as I took in the sights and sounds of nature all around me. There was a chorus of songbirds harmonizing, communicating, expressing their truimphs and their love desires. Beautiful sounds!  As I listened,  I let the breeze spirits seep through me skin to let it replace my tiredness.  It felt like an awakening........a spa for the senses.   Then, I saw him.  This tiny speck of a being sitting right in the middle of the yellow clothesline in my neighbours backyard.  One little hummer with the line all to himself.  It was comical.  He looked like a B-flat note from a music chart.  One little note from a universal scoring.  

He didn't sit perfectly still.  Hummingbirds are hyperactive. But, for him, he was perched pretty darn quietly.  His wings had stopped.   Though he was too tiny to make his head do a "bob and weave" like you would describe if you were trying to capture the head movement in a larger species, he did make the same movement....  It was more of a tip and a flit as he scanned the yard like a Lord looking over his kingdom. Then, I heard his birdcall.  He somehow managed to project his voice above the louder tweets.  I heard him call out.  I'm HERE! 

It left me in awe....... It left me feeling as sense of kindredness with my backyard buddy.  My life is so busy.  For the  most part I like it that way. There are days though when the activities are survival ones.  Maybe not physically like the tiniest member of the bird family, but emotionally/spiritually.  On the tipping edge.  Then, I take a moment to sit on my rejuvenating steps to draw in the blessed goodness of my life.  

We have the gift of nature to be our mentor.  The life that unfolds with growth and determination all around us sends messages of importance life affirming learning.  All we have to do is pay attention and relate. 

The eagle teaches us to soar in freedom...... catching gust of wind under our own wings.  The robin shares many lessons about how to build a home, to protect and provide.  Mourning Doves live in love with their soulmates.  And the hummingbird?  He is the biggest gift of them all because he is the the mentor of resilience.  

There is beauty in the song of resilience.  No matter how ugly life can get we are all more beautiful because of our attempts at making it happen.  The key is to take the time to savour the honeydrips and to keep at it!

Trust-Me Boulevard.

 thin skinned beauty

The other day as I was driving home, I ploughed through a mass of dandelion fluff floating through the air.  Millions of feathery seeds once attached to a stem had  uplifted from the field beside the road and then got caught in a breezy travelling draft only to eventually disperse and settle to begin the cycle again on someone else's lawn.  My car parted through the fluff.  Before I knew it, I was on the other side this dandelion storm heading in the same direction.  Smiling.  It was a very cool experience.

I was reminded of this tiny burst of a moment tonight when I was trying to figure out where I've been and why I haven't been able to settle down enough to write.  I realized that whenever I've tried, I couldn't harness my thoughts.  I couldn't remain attached to the stem of an idea.   I have been emotionally, cognitively, physically uprooted.  Spiritually too. 

At first inward glance, I focused on the negative reasons.  We tend to do that don't we?  As much as I strive to be a "glass half full" person and can encourage someone else to alter their inward glances from the negative to a more productive positive, when I'm at my worst I can't make the switch very well at all.  So, I looked at it from that angle and this is what I saw...........

There have been days when I've felt like a train wreck and I'm so bloody busy trying to keep up with everything I have to do around here!  Exhausted, alone, overwhelmed.  Discarded.  I second guess myself.  I let my confidence sag like milkless breasts.  OOOOOoooooo!  I get all chilled and flushed at the same time even writing about it/thinking about it because the most predominant feelings that stream through me are shame and guilt. Failure. My emotions are so raw and on the surface way too much these days. There are many reasons for this which have left me with a sense of stalled vulnerability.... a heart open too wide and for too long.  This leads to serious brain flooding and over reacting!  And a jumble of questions........ ones that certainly don't have easy answers.

How do you love like you've never been hurt when you've been hurt?  How do you truly forget or let go of past shambles so that it doesn't impact a new relationship?  There has to be a way.  There has to be a different avenue.  I keep seeking.  I want the street I seek to be named Trust-Me Boulevard, but I think it will have a new name.  I just don't know where it is or what it will be called but let me catch a draft heading in that direction. Please! 

What happens if allow your inward glance to lean towards a more positive perspective? This is actually where I am tonight.  For the first time in weeks, I am breathing differently.  I think.  For now anyways.  No doubt I have been scattering my energy in too many different directions.  Scampering and scattering.  Unbalanced.  Seemingly floating in air without the tendrils to keep me grounded.  Caught in a draft.  Seeking and fearfully uncomfortable as I take new risks, form new relationships and TRY to juggle everything else in my life I must focus my attention on.  

However, it may not be such a bad place to be at all.  Challenging!  FOR sure!  Taxing? YES!  Messy?  YOU BET!  But, being in this place of transitional movement is ripe for opportunity.  I'm learning every day.  I'm also getting things done around here.  Maybe not as efficiently as I should or would or could.  But, I am.  New front steps.  Repainted another room.  Decluttering as best as I can.  I've got a load of gravel sitting in my driveway just waiting for someone to shovel and level it!  Any offers?!!  

The garden is blooming.  So are the weeds.  The lawn is lush green and where there were patches of winter kill, it is newly seeded.  The laundry isn't folded. There are cobwebs and dust in the corners of my home.  But my kids are thriving and so am I.  In spurts and starts and stalls and stops.  My love life is a bit of a minefield, but that's to be expected.  I'm learning to trust again.  Tearfully, fearfully, bravely.... in my own wonky way.

I'm also experiencing many many many light bulb awakening moments.  Big stuff!  Big blooming stuff..... like how messed up my boundaries are with the people in my life ...... and how much they have altered.  I'm learning that I have a long way to travel when it comes to trust again...... and I realized tonight that the name of the avenue I am looking for won't be named Trust-Me Boulevard.  Rather, the first street I seek out will be  Trust-IN-Me Place.  This comes with letting myself off the hook by stopping the shame and guilt feelings.  Acknowledging them of course, but then telling them to piss off!

If I'm ever going to be like that dandelion fluff and settle down again to begin a new cycle,  I have to be patient with the journey, and accept the fact that it will never be a straight arrow path.  Air drafts, like the pockets of unexpected life messes take you to destinations you may never have seen before.

Hey God are you around these days??  Will you take a moment to check on me... just for some reassurance.  Please let me learn to be more accepting and less sensitive to judgement.  Let me settle where I land.  Let me bloom there on Trust-In-Me Place.  I just know its where I belong........ it's where I can learn that hard lesson of loving again like Ive never been hurt.  Gotta trust in me first, right God? 

and the world will be a better place............

 sisters and cousins. 

I need you.

Three simple words that pack a punch. You hear it in the cry of a newborn. You feel it when you tiptoe into your sleeping child's room late at night and take in the air of innocence. You see it in the pleaing eyes of your dog. You hear it in the words, I love you.

It's the underlying message behind a recognized job well done, or in a comment like......."we couldn't have done it without you." It hides behind a thank you, a bless you, an "I'm so glad to see you."

When you are given a task because someone knows you're good at it.

When you are hugged by a thankful friend after helping them move.

When you receive an email which reads......."you don't know how much it means to me....."

You are needed.

We may not even be cognizant of striving for those moments of validation. We may think that our actions are performed because we just want to, or we feel obligated, or because it's the right thing to do. But you know what? We do them because we have a desire to feel like we are needed.

What happens if no one needs us? What if we NEVER feel needed, or that all of our needs are met by others due to the circumstances we find ourselves in our lives, and there is never a chance to reciprocate? Why are those words so powerful? Why do we long to hear them? 

Because deep down, we all have a need to be needed. Perhaps hearing these words and feeling validated is provides us with the impetus for living. Perhaps knowing we are needed by others keeps our hope alive, especially when the whole world around us seems so dauntingly depressing. If I know I'm needed, I want to get up in the morning again and again.............I want to partake in the life of my community. 

I have a REASON to be.

In his book, "Man is Not Alone," Abraham Heschel elaborates on this idea. He proposes that there are many things in life that human beings need in order to survive. And yet, planet earth would carry on because it doesnt need us.

"Who is in need of man? Nature? Do the mountains stand in need of our poems? Would the stars fade away if astronomy ceased to exist? The earth can get along without the aid of the human species. Nature is replete with the opportunity to satisfy all our needs except one -- the need of being needed." 

WE need to be needed. It's what gives our life meaning. It doesn't matter if you are the poorest person or the richest person in the whole world. It doesn't matter if you are healthy and independent or living in chronic pain, dependent on others for your care every single day of your life. It doesn't matter if you live in a palace surrounded by luxury, servants and someone who draws your bath, cooks your meals and chooses your wardrobe, or if you live on the street with no home to go to. It doesn't matter if you are you or I am me. WE all live to fulfill our desire to be needed.

It is how we can leave our footprints behind.

No amount of money can buy it. No amount of money can replace the feeling. It's a priceless gift to give and to receive.  It is by far our most important human being role.  

This year, I said it more times than ever in my life. It has been the most challenging year to overcome rejection.  So, I found myself asking for help.  A lot.  I need you.  Please help me.  For ideas, for companionship, for practical reasons, for friendship therapy.  To help me learn some of the basics of running this house that I didn't know how to do..........like taking a door off its hinges!   

Recently I sent out an email to a few people describing a few of my ideas/plans/goals asking for help.  I entitled it "Putting it out there..."  It was my attempt to put the first pieces of my thoughts into words.  To make it more real.  I sent it out to make it more real but more importantly, to ask for feedback, advice, support.  

I felt a bit naked doing it, but the response was incredible!  Not only was it thought provoking.  Not only did some of the feedback challenge my novice dreams, thereby fueling my vision.  Not only has it put me in a place where I know I have a bunch of folks who will take me to task by asking questions like..... "Hows it going with that dream of yours?"  Their individual responses have helped mend me by reinforcing that this dream of mine is doable.  If I do it right.  If I do my homework.  If I plan.  With their guidance.  

What a life affirming task it is to help one another...... Whether its giving or receiving, the feelings it provokes are broad and intense, which I believe falls under the umbrella of vulnerability.  Strip away all the ego feelings, and what is left is a healthy interdependence.  The ties that bind.  

Sometimes, the person you asked to help you just can't.  They don't have the energy.  Life may be in turmoil for them as well.  Or maybe they havent recognized that as humans we are both givers and takers.  Maybe by asking for their help, you may reveal their needs.  Is there anything more therapeutic than to help another? 

Do you need me?   Do we need one another?  I need you.

Our helping actions express the ultimate message .... I love you.  You matter.  I see you.  I need you too.  

the affect of power on peckers....

What's with the correlation between political power and the inability to keep one's pecker in one's pants?  

Two very public stories have emerged this week which has foisted this age old question front and center in my thinking.   Dominque Strauss-Kahn..... not a name I had ever heard of until the news broke on Sunday that this man who runs the IMF, who had serious aspirations to run for President of France, was unceremoniously wrenched out of his first class seat and charged with rape. 

Turns out this man with a prestigious CV has succumbed to his salacious urges in the past too and almost got away with it.  Now, the stories are erupting as we learn that he's on suicide watch in New York jail.  No bail for him.  Too high risk to hide out in villa on the Mediterranean out of reach from the judicial system.  

I heard today that if he had been in NYC on formal business, he would've had diplomatic immunity.  Oh grand!  How sick is that?  If someone has a position that falls under the umbrella of diplomatic immunity, they can sexually assault any chambermaid of their choice and get away with it.  Doesn't it make you wonder how often this crime takes place and we never hear about it?  What a bloody sham!

And what about Arnold??? Herr Terminator Sperminator Governor??  He fathered a child with a staff person (another power person over a subordinate) 10 years ago and managed to keep it hushed up even from his wife, media, family?  Wow.  Their marriage for many years was a big blowing lie.  It makes me queezy thinking about it and my heart goes out to Maria Schriver and their 4 children.  Infidelity is a wicked kick in the gut.  For her to be living under the same roof with the staff person Arnold was boinking and making babies with is unbelievably cruel.

Henry Kissinger famously stated that "power is the ultimate aphrodisiac."  And it can impact both parties in a sexually.  Power ramps it up for both.... the one with power and the one who is lured into a tryst because of the aroma of power.  Whether its boardroom hijinks or a full court press, it doesn't seem to matter.  Politicians, business folks, athletes, entertainers, actors.......... horizontal rumbling is the preferred extra curricular activity.  Without a second thought to the consequences.  Without a blink or a wink to the people who are left in the ditches of despair and shock.

It makes me wonder........... where and when is the tipping point?  I mean, there has to be a transitional point when someone in power retains a sense of decorum and humility.  Gratitude too.  Even a belief that they are no better than anyone else.  Then, all of a sudden a line is crossed.  All values slide off their skin and what is left is a hungry drive to release their pheromes and slippery semen into the world.  

Why?  Because its risky and they want to experience that heightened feeling of doing something against the rules?  Because they feel like they would never get caught, so why not?  Because they are so numb by the pressure they are under, or the lack of attention they may feel from their spouse?  I'm sure there are a million of reasons....... or should I claim them as excuses?  Cause that's what they are.  No apologies can lift the victim up out of the dredges of this reality. 

Power and control are needs we all try to attain, hopefully not to the detriment of others.  To have some healthy empowerment in our lives allows us to feel a sense of balance and confidence, which in turn feeds our sense of who we ar and how we may fit in this world.  In any given relationship, however, if the power tips for whatever reason, there is an imbalance where one person has more control than the other.  From there, feelings are hurt, mixed and misunderstood.  From there, one person in the relationship tries to pull away while the other tries too hard to make it work.  This kind of scenario is ripe for disaster..... ripe for an affair.  It happens regularly, without hesitation. 

I have no empathy for the parties who flagrantly do this to others and then expect the people all around them to forgive and forget.  Count on the forgiveness eventually.  Forgetting?  Doubt it!

I don't believe these activities will ever be eradicated.  Once someone crosses the line, drops all of their belief system because the urge to "drop trou " has turned into a blinding light that attracts them like moths to a back door light, they are long gone.  Flooded with such feelings, there is very little space left for rational thinking. 

Personally, I want none of it.  I don't want to be in a relationship that hovers around the disrespect of another while maintaining some strange control thing. I've seen it, experienced it and I respect myself too much for this foolishness.  I don't want to be in a relationship where some man has to prove their manliness by adding notches to their belt and then TELL you about it.  And I certainly have no respect for the people in power who can't keep their peckers in their pants.  

So, to all those men who are in power or who think they are, here's a little poem for you........

Don't shower me with platitudes or talk in silly rhymes

Don't offer me bouquets if they're meant to hide your crimes

Don't share with me your dreams if they're ones you do not own.

Only open-hearted sincerity is welcome in this home.

Don't gaze into my eyes without a breath of care

Don't throw missing kisses up into the air

Don't ask me questions if answers won't be received

I'll not tolerate your reeking actions of deceit.

If you can't abide by the very basic pure rules of conduct that include respect, loyalty, open communication, fairness and LOVE, I don't want a part of it that thank you very much.  You don't deserve me and I certainly don't deserve that kind of treatment.  NO ONE does.

the pall over the river.....

Every day at dusk, hundreds of blackbirds swoop by my house.  They come in clusters, leisurely air sailing through swirling winds, catching up and down drafts with pleasurable ease.   No matter what the weather, no matter what the season, these habitual birds travel the same route.  

I don't know where they spend their day..... somewhere "upriver"  from where I live.  But just before darkness falls, they seem to breeze in through the landscape canvas sky and fliterflap on past me.  On days like this, when the soggy skies are gloomy grey, their blackness seems to hauntingly push through the thick clouds.  

At first they appear like bug specks on the horizon.  Then, they loom larger and larger until they are almost close enough to touch from my livingroom, which is eye level to their flight path.  When I happen to be in this room at the right time, I stand and watch them in awe.  

Tonight, it was a different feeling.  Their presence spoke a message of distress because they arrived just after the large yellow search and rescue helicopter ominously scoured the swollen river after a boat filled with 5 people capsized.  When my daughter and I first heard the loud propellered beast slowly making its way past our house, we knew deep down inside it wasn't a good sign.  Still, we hoped it was a training exercise from CFB Gagetown.   But, it continued to repeat the same pattern over and over again....... this slow motion combing of the shorelines and spring flooded islands.  

Until the birds arrived.

At dusk, the loud yellow helicopter made its last turn around to return to the landing pad.  Quiet wonder echoed danger.  Then the birds swarmed in, marking the transition from day to night. Their flight path continues to be solidly ingrained in their wingspan.  With flipflapping ease, they caught the draughts of the chilly winds and seemed to mock the tragedy still unfolding.  Misty fog gripped the newly green branches and fields like unsettled spirits as the blackbirds circled once and flew off to their nighttime landing location.  Yellow streetlights on the other side of the river, blurred by the rain and fog left their streaks on the surface of the rushing water.  

There is little information on this accident.  It has all happened since late afternoon when this group was travelling along the shoreline collecting fiddleheads.  To be sold at the market this weekend?  Along the roadside?   What I've read? 4 people were rescued.  One died on the way to the hospital.  The fifth remains lost to the river tonight.  

A bell tolls in my heart as I think about the people whose lives have been tragically shaken by grief and loss by this split second accident.  

seeking love........

Muffled by moonless drapes, her energy palpitates in snuffled beats like a foghorn lost in shipwreck history.   A darkening swath of uncertainty suffocates illusions.... normally a reliable escape from the phantoms of rejection. The resin of bare truth lays at her feet.  Its lingers.  Remnants of old sex. 

The jingling of her keys break the silence of her homecoming.  As she places it inside the lock and turns her wrist, she hears the one click echo of her empty apartment.  The door opens to darkness.  She kicks off her shoes relieving her pinched feet that once delighted in wearing dainty shoes and takes in a stumbling breath of disappointment.  Then, she listens..........

Brooding spirits whine through eaves soaked by the unrelenting rain and swarm the lingering damp air.  One lit candle projects their stretched out shadows   Solitude, sprinkled with doubt turns into a melancholic aria. It's sound is all too familiar.  Refreshed hunger grumbles.  Tonight, the haunting violin plays inside a teardrop. Its sweet innocence is lost in the reality that despite her best efforts, she has returned home alone again from her night out at the dance hall with the girls.

________________________________________

ps.  Inspired by an hour spent at a local bar last fall that was filled with lonely hearts and hopeful middle aged dreams.  It was an eye opening experience.... one that filled me with the memories of the "stories" I could feel emanating from the people all around me.   That night, I got home and wrote 20 pages in my journal..... created vignettes from my imagination and gut reaction to what I had observed and felt.

love is a direction...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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