Spontaneity revealed......

You can't schedule a "random act of kindness."  It makes no sense. There's no randomness in that act! You can't sketch out a day of creating, teaching, or facilitating a business meeting and expect it to unfold exactly how you envision it.  It just doesn't happen that way.  Parties, events, vacations, day trips, appointments, first dates, all dates, even chores around the house...... they can all be planned right down to the micro minutae.  We all know however, that nothing unfolds as you think it will.  Why?  Because there is a little Pixie named Spontaneity that LOVES to wink, blink and paplink on life with giggling abandon!  You never know when she will make an appearance.  

Spontaneity is the Id jigging on our plans. Makes me smile just thinking about it!  It is the spoon that stirs the cinammon into the bland batter.  It is the one note which rises up above the others that takes a song to the altar. Spontaneity is the scalliwag blush determined to splash onto a beige landscape with colourful love.... the moxie in the body wiggle........  the feisty spirit in our personality ..... the starry night twinkle in our eyes!  Like the heat from soulmate intimacy, it is the passion that levitates from our footprints.  

Spontaneity is the human being divinely inspired.  It's source is joy and love.... gladness and kindness.

Most of the time.......

 There is a dark side to this little personified Pixie whose main goal is to bring a sense of surprise goodness.  A kablink instead of a paplink!  Spontaneity with a poison dart is nasty. We know it when it strikes.  It feels like a slap or a re-piercing of a wound.  Usually it is the ammo in a bully's arsenal and it arrives unannounced.  Most forms of abuse are a spontaneous action thrusted out into the face of another. Impulsive, unthinking, driven by an ignited passion fueled by kerosene.   It's source is anger and fear .... low self esteem and old triggers.   

Sometimes, you don't know what has "hit or stung" you until you take a step back from the situation, it is so quick to lash out.   By then, the damage is done.  Those wounds fester, especially if the spontaneous combustion of another's actions are perpetuated.  Over and over......... Bullies like to hit the same target.  Target practise with spontaneity. Aggression with Spite.  Once we have felt it from someone, we begin to expect it to happen again.  Nervousness looms, while attempting to sidestep the landmines.  

Dark spontaneity is the human being deviously inspired.  

On the other hand, Pixie spontaneity, the kind that pecks you on the cheek and leaves a stain of lipstick, are like separate little gifts.  One offers! 

Last Sunday, we heard........ "Some people give a lot of love and some people give a small amount of love.  How much love do you give out?"  This part of the sermon has stayed with me this week, as I thought about it.  I thought of the people I encounter who don't have the capacity for one reason or another to give much love. Why?  Discomfort, personal wounds, defensiveness...... a tightly guarded heart.... could this be why?  What about the people who spontaneously dole out a whole lotta of love?  Are they more confident?  More comfortable in their own skin?  Or are they very needy of love themselves and they give it away too impulsively?  

If all of our actions are our best attempt at fulfilling a personal need (Survival, Love and Belonging, Control/Empowerment, Freedom, Fun) what needs are people who give a lot of love fulfilling?  What needs are people who give a small amount of love fulfilling?  I guess the key thing to remember when it comes to giving away big amounts of love is the need to keep a little love for ourselves.  If we give it all away, we deplete ourselves of heartsongs.   

Here's a thought....... maybe the ones who have little to give, or who veer more towards spiteful spontaneous actions need more big love offered to them?  Maybe they are depleted and don't know how to love themselves. 

Here's another thought........... Because Pixie spontaneity is impulsively offered, we do it without thinking beyond the action.  Unconditional fairy dustings of love.  Perhaps this is one way God helps us give of ourselves with no expectations of fulfilling any need?  A random offering......... a surprise.............. a smile ........ kindness with no strings attached ..... spontaneously divine.........   

Just remember "above all else, guard your heart, for everything flows from it........." (Proverbs 4:23)  This is the way to being a good Pixie. :)

May your day have an unpredictable Pixie wink to it........... 

tenderness..........

June, 2011. 
Max's Grade 8 celebration. 
He is much taller now. :)

"There is no fear in tenderness.  Tenderness is not a weakness, lack of strength, or sloppiness; tenderness is filled with strength, respect, and wisdom.  In tenderness, we know how and when to touch someone to help them to be and be well."  

Jean Vanier, Becoming Human.

Yesterday, my two children accompanied me to the market.  This is a rare occasion.  Usually, I go on my own, early and armed with my camera.I kept my camera hidden because I know my spontaneous photo clicking of decorated legs and human costumes embarrasses them! (Eye-rolling....OMG, there goes my crazy Mom taking photos again of someone's footwear! She's nutty!)

My market trips are my Saturday morning ritual to meander while clearing my head from a work week.  Its a time to touch base with the folks I know who work or panhandle there.... and for random encounters with friends, neighbours and colleagues, for picture taking and chatting.  Yesterday, it was a little different.  I felt like a Momma chick showing off her little family....two strappingly tall beauties on either side of me.  I was the short one in the middle smiling proudly.   My focus was on them, on what they had to say, on how they interacted with the vendors and the random people from our lives that we bumped into.

Our time together didn't last very long.  We toured the stalls and stopped a few times.  Before we knew it, Martha flew off to meet up with her friends.  Max and I headed home.  But, it wasn't the length of time that mattered.  It was the feeling of enjoying each other's company while chatting and swapping a few jokes that only the three of us would laugh at. It was a sense of belonging that permeated us and spun energy around us.  It was a touching of that invisible energy.... like fingertips to fingertips...... 

Togetherness.  We are each other in a fresh breeze way.  Family.  We thrive in good and bad weather.  We thrive because no matter how much freedom there is in the personal journey, there is a nest to come home to.  A haven where unconditional love and listening offers safe landings.  Like anyone, we spend time on our own......... doing tasks, figuring out our own stuff, being quiet.  Maybe that's why when the three of us are sharing a meal, or are involved in an activity together, there is an unspoken tenderness that binds us beautifully. 

As individuals, we have experienced a whole lot of struggles.  Growing pains.  Uncertainty.  Frustration.  Loneliness. New horizons. Human learning. Stretching beyond comfort zones.  I know how much they worry about me, and still do as I try to regain my zip!  They count on me, and I encourage it.  Honest open conversations.  Truth, honesty.  Meaningful moments that remind them that I am their lead.  I am Mom.   

They know how much I worry about them too as they forage forward into independence.  That's my job....... figuring out  when to let go, when to intervene, when to nurture....when to stand on the sidelines applauding their amazing accomplishments.  Encouragement enthusiastically trumps worry.  Love expressed through action, through reliability, through the daily gifts we share feeds the tenderness we innately feel for each other. 

This is what I was thinking as I walked to the market with my tall beauties at my side.   Because we have conquered some of life's big hills together.   Because we acknowledge the daily little hills we attempt too.  Because we know deep in our beating hearts that we love one another to the moon and back, we are fine.  More than just fine.  Blessed by this knowledge and by belonging.

Today is Mother's Day........... its a special one for me as I cognitively and emotionally revisit the past year's milestones.   Martha's personal experiences forced her to stretch beyond, beyond her comfort zone.  Max's body has stretched beyond, beyond his comfort zone.  Both have encountered big transitions in their academic and personal lives...... stuff I could help them with, stuff their friends could help them with, but lots and lots of stuff they had to dig deep inside themselves to figure out solutions, to make decisions.  Just like their Momma.  

It has been a year (or two) when I have found myself on my knees more than I can count.  I've learned my perspective from there is cleansed becomes much clearer.  

But, here we ARE!  Whole, transitioning,  transforming....... reflecting ....... becoming..........always grateful for their tenderness.  

I am a very very lucky Mom.  

Happy Mother's Day. 

the times they are a changin'

Come gather 'round people

Wherever you roam

And admit that the waters

Around you have grown

And accept it that soon

You'll be drenched to the bone

If your time to you

Is worth savin'

Then you better start swimmin'

Or you'll sink like a stone

For the times they are a-changin'.

Bob Dylan......

I keep waiting for the words to fly like they used to.  But every time I think I've got a handle on it, the times they are a changin'.....  It's like an amusement ride stuck on GO.  The story I want to write, I continue to live it.  Everytime I think I've got a conclusion to the present moment story, a new angle appears. 

Tonight, the feeling is different.  Though I've lost my wordsmith polish, I don't want that to deter me any longer.  Or the sense of readiness to share.  Writing is therapy.  It once felt like breathing to me, but somewhere along the line, the integration between life inside and out evaporated.  I lose focus so quickly.......... it's time to push through that and let whatever it is inside me to come out onto a blank canvas.......

I am well.  Thank you, thank you for all of your good wishes and thoughts.  I am well.  I felt your presence throughout.  I really did. 

Though life seems to want to push me closer to the edge of insanity, my faith and the people in my life continue to wrap their arms around me.  I am living my story I guess and I can't seem to put it down in any form of logic or fantasy.  It's the only reasonable rationale I have.   

Physically, I am healed.  All the test have come back with no surprises.  Emotionally, I am healing.  As much as I want this to be at the same place I am physically, it is lagging behind.  Too many other incidents keep rocking my world.  But, I truly believe time will resolve some of them.  Goodness prevails.  If you dare to be open to dealing with the wounds, goodness prevails. 

The experiences I have encountered through the mirage of the health care system, the vignettes stored in my brain for future sharing, the lessons I've been blasted with, the crappy TV shows I've become addicted to, The Re-emergence post radiation and burns, post two breast surgeries and THEN post appendix surgery........( YES I had my appendix out too!!!  First day back to work and by morning coffee break, I'm feeling the pain in my gut!!!)  the special times with so many special people who drove me to and from radiation, who dropped off food, who stayed with me in my home overnight while I healed......... phenomenal.  I am blessed.  I am blessed.  The conversations have been enlightening, thought provoking, helpful........ I am overwhelmed by a litany of voices.  I can't settle enough to write.  I can't settle enough to read anything more than a few pages.  Frig, I can't settle enough to get the laundry done!  OK, it's done.  It's just not all folded yet!

I keep floating............. events keep happening............. I want it to stop at a place called peace where prayer and stillness settle into my bones.  But, for some unknown Godly reason, it is not meant to be.  

You know what I've learned?  Real strength generates from the soul.  Real strength emerges through the salty wounds of adversity.  It looks like the face of a vulnerable puppy caught in the rain.  A Beagle puppy.  But, it responds in a manner that can only be described as intrinsically God sent through the hearts of friends and family.  

I am well.  I am strong.  The times may be a changin'......... and that's alright with me.  

Stories to follow................ 

Seeking the still small voice of love.......

Wandering with and without the knowledge of where I was planting my feet, I continued to seek out a stillness inside that lasts for more than a mere thread of serenity. 

I still am a seeker, though the challenges I have been surrounded by have certainly created dark craters of doubt and fear. Of thin air anxieties and tears.   I keep falling into them.

Then, I find myself climbing up and out only to find a beacon flickering warm light to guide me back to safe ground.  Moments pass, the light goes out and the ground beneath me trembles again. I slide down an embankment only to begin seeking another thread of serenity in the dark.  I always find it, but sometimes its really hard to do. 

Why is this such a driving force?  We need the nurturing of stillness.  We need those morsels of serenity to feed our faith or we would lose our minds!  It is when I feel the calming awareness of a lingering essence of serenity that I am reminded to let life undulate like my river's mid-summer pace.  It is when I can let go of the chatter, the scraping noises of anxiety and just be.

Centred.  
At peace. 

Nestled in the holy space where God's love dwells.....where joy sits in contented gladness patiently waiting to be chosen, the words I long to write again dwell too.   They are there, waiting for me to absorb all that I am to learn this winter.

While this hibernation full of thoughts and feelings continues to feed my belief that there is a reason for this season of challenges, not only for me, but for many people around me, I return to the inspirational words of Henri Nouwen.  Food for the soul.  Bread for the journey.  Of all the faith based authors I have read over the years, Nouwen's work has been my most important guide.  The topics I have chosen to share on this blog often derived from my thoughts after reading one of his pieces.  

Serendipitously, I was redirected back to Nouwen's books by an engaging Priest who delivered a sermon last Sunday night on seeking stillness from anxiety through meditative prayer.  Father Brennan shared a story about wrestling with his own late night doubts that steal away inner calm, as well as this passage from Nouwen's daily comtemplative book, Bread for the Journey: 

The Still, Small Voice of Love

Many voices ask for our attention.  There is a voice that says, "Prove that you are a good person." Another voice says, "You'd better be ashamed of yourself." There also is a voice that says "Nobody really cares about you," and one that says, "Be sure to become successful, popular, and powerful."  But underneath all these often very noisy voices is a still small voice that says, "You are my Beloved, my favour rests on you."  That's the voice we need most of all to hear. To hear that voice, however, requires special effort; it requires solitude, silence and a strong determination to listen.

That's what prayer is.  It is listening to the voice that calls us "my Beloved."

It was a last minute choice to attend Mass at St. Dunstan's last Sunday night.  Invited by a dear friend who has been a wonderful companion on this breast cancer journey with me from the beginning, I went seeking some kind of stillness after an emotionally full day trying to help and support friends who were going through a family crisis.  I went with a brain and a heart tired from the anxieties I had been harbouring for months over trying to deal with my health fears.  

I went into the church emptied of energy, heavy with responsibilities as a Mom, a homeowner, a friend, a human being who seems to be juggling a variety of issues all at once.......... and about to topple over.....  I went into that service in hopes of touching that Hand of God we cannot see, but can FEEL.  With gladness returning, I stepped out into the night softened by the messages I absorbed, lightened by the lifting of the noises that had crowded out that irrepressible still small voice of love.  The urge to write again has been stirred.  The words are feather touching my fingertips again.

I am listening. I am receiving.  I am learning more about myself and the world around me than ever before.  I am storing all of the experiences I am encountering knowing this is a season of discomfort.   Craters of doubt will appear out of nowhere.   Fears will drum up the noises again and again,. But I have been reminded that I still have the ability to silence them too.  I still have the ability to be touched by that small voice of comfort.   Beautiful!

Thank you Father Brennan.  Your message reached me sitting in the last pew.  Henri Nouwen's book will once again travel with me. 

A toast for today and tomorrow..........

May your discoveries be plenty, 

May your sorrows be few.

May it rain dollops of colour

Under a sky brilliant in blue.

May you warble a few songs

with notes full of grace

May your spirit always be lifted

When you're lovingly embraced...........

If winter's cold gets too wicked 

and the blues settle in.....

If lonely crumbles your foundation

try to rise up again.

Know you're never alone friend.

Know you always have me.

I'm the one dancing jigs on your sadness

I'm the one whistling through the trees.....

May 2012 be as brightly coloured as 2011............ A different shade would be nice, but just as colourful!  May you always carry your favourite song in your backpocket. May we continue to draw strength from the ones we love and who love us.  We are in this together.  It's who we are.  It's all we have.  

Blessings may get enveloped by the storms that bellow from time to time, but they never dissolve.  In fact, they have a tendancy to float on top of the waves.  I caught sight of two this morning as they slept soundly in their beds.... 

Happy New Year........ !!!!!!

discarded anniversary............

So what do you do with a wedding anniversary soured beyond its due date?  Once full of youthful exuberance, of hopeful dreams, it now blinks in the corner discarded and covered in dust bunnies.  Shared only between two lovebirds whose past, present and future was intertwined with accumulated history, events, births, deaths, struggles and accomplishments?  Talking.  Always talking, dancing, lingering together.  Laughter too.  Lots of laughter.  Tears too.  Frightening times.  Exciting times.  Figuring it out times.  NOT figuring it out times............ slipping away, away, away............ to silence and hurt.

What do you do with it now when the marriage is no more?  Remember?  Forget?  Deny?  Repress? Joke? Ironic that one of the most happiest days of one's life can bottom out into one of the saddest.  It's hard not to get caught in the misery of broken.

failure, failure, failure...........it blinks.......... your vows became fraudulent..... it blinks.

On any other day, its manageable.  Difficult sometimes to accept, but manageable.  But on the day of the anniversary.......... that big day when the people, the music, the vows, the beauty, the flowers, the smiles, the speeches, the dancing,  so clearly come to mind?  There's no way of sidestepping it, especially if you're still living in the marital home.  ITS everywhere!!! Even when decluttering and boxing up stuff has occured.  Even if you've painted the walls and hung up new pictures.  

It lingers............. loudly.

It lingers.............mournfully.

It lingers............lonely.  

On the day of.................. Mr. and Mrs...........

A tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a noise?  One side of a marriage whispers "happy anniversary" but no one is around to hear it, is it at least felt and remembered? Does it matter? 

Moving on..................... time to suck up those blinking dust bunnies with my Dyson. 

joyful giggles. from singing off key.........

I got the case of the giggles right in the middle of the Christmas Eve service tonight.  During the second verse of a bouncy carol I didn't recognize.  I blame it on my son, who was purposely singing off key. and making up new lyrics to the old standards.  If anyone was looking at him, they would've thought he was sullenly just "getting through" the church service.......... head down and not really paying attention.  Well, he was sort of doing just that.  Church isn't his cup of tea.  Religion isn't logical to him.  Philosophy however, is another matter. Thats FOOD for a beyond the horizon brain of his because that kind of thinking verse goes on and on forever.  

However, he was singing. Off key!  Loud enough only for me and his sister to hear his comedic attempts.  Methinks he was verging on landing on Santa's naughty list for his subversive humour.  It was a welcome respite..... sometimes Max just knows how to put his own stamp on perspective. 

Interestingly, my son still believes........... in Santa.  Or at least tries very hard to believe it. I caught him online checking out the Norrad Santa tracking site this afternoon!!!   When he was around 9 years old, he told his sister that there has to be Santa Claus because there was no way Mom and Dad would buy all those presents!  Yeah, he managed to get his head around St. Nick.  It made more sense to him than any other explanation.  Still does.

He even managed to get to bed earlier tonight than he has in months.  Same with my daughter, except she has a reason to retreat under the covers.  She's been working her tushie off in the mad world of RETAIL, right up to the mall closing bell tonight.  She could hardly keep her eyes open during the church service.  It was a valiant attempt that reminded me of the years I would be working crazy hours in retail at her age, so bone tired and weary of listening to Christmas jingly tunes for two months...... 

A couple of times, I could feel her lean on me for a quick respite.  There was absolutely no way she had the energy to follow along with any zippity verve though she did her best.  She gave up trying to find the right page or the right spot on the service guide and let me guide her.  Her brothers' off key singing most certainly helped too.  So did recognizing half the congregation whom she served at the store or whom she knew in another life context.  

My two beauties are now sound asleep in their own beds and I sit here in front of the Christmas tree with a sense of gratitude.  It was a hilarious drive home, zigzagging up and down the neighbourhood streets to gawk at the lights on snow covered lawns, and listening to Max's one liner banter based on his observations.  He had us laughing so hard.... a feat he has accomplished since the kid learned how to walk!  He can be so quiet when others are around, but then he can open up like a good stand up comedian when the urge hits him.  We are the recipients of his gift.  

Yesterday, was the same.  Martha arrived home from an 8 hour stint selling with just enough downtime to hang out with us while I prepared for our annual open house.  Max, who had been relatively insular most of the afternoon, turned it on and the three of us enjoyed a few good laughs in the kitchen. It began when he appeared from the basement with a pair of "emergency" underwear on his head.  The rest of the prepping was put aside as we caught up and connected.  It continued between the two of them for another hour or so as I went off to get myself ready for the arrival of our friends........ I could hear them sharing stories and singing to favourite songs that were blaring from a bouncy tune CD mix we have listened to during car trips to and fro. 

It has been a stressful two years, no doubt about it.  Changes and learning to accept the reality that their Dad doesnt live here anymore has been an ever evolving process.  Top it off with my health scare, AND the fact that Martha is moving out on New Year's Day to begin her academic studies at a University two hours from home, as well as all the other transitions that are simply part of life and its safe to say that we have had our fair share of flesh wounds during adjustments.  It will continue......... that's how growth occurs...... and where it occurs best is in a place called uncomfortable. 

You can't halt change, and God knows you can't avoid the daily reminders.  Tonight, as I sat in between my growing children (they are both taller than me now), one leaning on me out of sheer fatigue and another piping out a carol off key on purpose, the laughter oozing out of my pores could not be fully suppressed.  Joyful noise simply cannot be and should not be suppressed.  Neither can gratitude found in the levity between the discomfort.  

This was our first Christmas Eve just the three of us.  It would be a lie if I said that this little piece of awareness hadn't poked me in the gut a few times over the past couple of days.  I'm sure my children experienced similar moments of gut poking reality.  Individually we have had to figure it out.  Collectively we fed off each other's coping gifts.  This is why I find myself in a place of thanksgiving.  The evening certainly didn't unfold as I had envisioned it.  When does that ever happen?  Rather, it unfolded from its own flow from love, understanding, belonging and acceptance.......... from our strengths and vulnerabilities, but mostly from our inner resilience that has been nurtured by all of the components I've mentioned....... 

Time to find out where that Jolly old white haired man hid those stockings.  Time to unleash the "Spirit we call Holy" that sits under the tree............. Time for me to find my own bed as I count my overwhelming blessings. 

Merry Christmas to you and your families............. May this season offer you a case of the giggles at least once. 

shooting stars.... evening lights.

 Candlelight holding up the sunset.

Almost time....... far from ready.  It doesn't matter though does it, because it will come in a flurry even if little old me is ready or not.  The day is just around the corner............. and I'm glad.  Calm and glad.

The tree is up. No chunky garlands.  I left them off.   I filled it with a thousand lights....... with ornaments from family and friends who have picked them up in their travels for me.... with ornaments I picked up in my travels.  It is a universal tree.  Multi-cultural.  

My daughter exclaimed that it's a "lady" tree.   It wasn't planned that way.  It just happened.  Dancing ladies from Barcelona, Prague, Austria, New York ..... from Indonesia, India, Peru......... angel ladies dusted in gold holding harps and wands. Angels made of pressed tin resplendent in pearl beads.  Angels created in a fine raffia made by women ten thousands villages away.   Up top is a wobbly legged skater wearing a bright red felt overcoat....her legs splayed from falling into the Christmas tree branch.  It was a joyful landing!

I had many plans to create things during my healing and time home waiting for the next part of this journey.  But, it wasn't meant to be.  Neither was writing.  My muse and my craft hands have been still.  Silent for the most part as I continued to clear my head doing other types of projects that seem to take much longer than normal.  

That's the way it is these days.......... up and down.  Clear and then foggy.  Focused as much as I can muster on big complicated tasks that challenge me as much as the cancer.  Legal stuff.  Financial stuff.  Trying to help two children reach the plateau of their personal dreams.......... wondering how the hell I'm going to afford it, but knowing I can figure it out.   In between these tasks, time with them.  Time with friends.  A visit from my parents. Time alone to think.  Time to listen to music, attend concerts, go to church..... all food for the soul. 

I did accomplish one crafty thing...........

I gave a special friend a 3 foot shooting star I made to put up in her backyard so she can see one every night.  It has strings of lights as its tail.......  I want her to make a wish every day throughout the Christmas season...... right up to Epiphany and beyond until we can sit in my backyard or on a star filled night on the beach this summer and gaze up into the sky to catch one zipping through the air.   Wishes upon wishes......... smiles upon smiles....... to defeat winter's frosty ice pellets that can dampen the spirit. 

Last summer, she admitted that she had never seen a shooting or falling star before.  Surprising since she grew up on the Island and spent many days on the beach.  As an adult though, she has lived in a house with many trees in her backyard......... beautiful old trees that have held up forts for climbing kids.  But, they have obscured the view of the night sky.

One late night last August after this admission, I was out walking the dog.  A shower of shooting stars dazzled above me.  I couldn't believe it!  6 or 7 crisscrossed darkness with spectacular clarity....... too many to hang first wishes onto.  That would have been greedy anyways.  As I stood there in complete awe, I phoned my friend who was already settling into bed for the night.  As far as I'm concerned, experiencing your first shooting star far outweighs sleep!

  "Anne........!  You've got to get outside!  There are shooting stars a plenty tonight!  Call me back when you see one!"  

Out she went......... jammies and all into her backyard, hoping to get a glimpse through broad branches that intertwine from tree to tree......... through the lush leaves that cover her yard in a natural umbrella.  No such luck.  Determined, she scampered past her own yard onto the walking trail, which still was too dense with trees.......... still beyond the trail to an opening near the park behind her house where the lights were still blaring on the courts and the streetlights glowing in the neighbourhood. 

What a valiant, courageous attempt!  What a hilarious risk to be out wandering around in flannel jammies with one's face pointed to the sky!  All for naught, except a good laugh!  She never saw the light show that night.  Who knows who saw HER!  Hahahaha!

She loved her star............... "No one has built anything for me in a long time" she replied!  Hopefully it is up... situated in the middle of her backyard so she can see it from the warmth of her family room.  Every night!  Tied to those same branches that obscure her view.  I left it up to her husband to figure out the mechanics of wiring it into the air!  I just build them.  I don't situate them!  :) 

I wonder how many people in this world never have a chance to see a shooting star or even a sky filled with twinkling lights off in the distance?  Sometimes, I catch myself taking the beauty for granted.  Usually when I'm too busy to look up.  But because I am blessed to live in this part of the world, in a home nestled away from the artificial lights of the city, on a street with one streetlight, those stars normally shimmer enough to grab my attention.  Make me stop.  Make me look and listen.  I don't know what I listen for.  I guess it is the feeling behind the use of those two senses.  Silent comfort?  Joyful contentment?  Little girl excitement......... wonderment that this world is much more grand than I can fathom? 

So is Christmas. The ultimate Star of Wonder!  It produces the same reaction....... looking, listening and feeling as it arrives even if we aren't as ready as we thought we'd be. 

It doesn't matter really does it?  What is ready?  We do our best to prepare for the big celebration and make sure everything is just perfect.... Often we are so laden with tasks, life pressures and responsibilities that we forget to look up.  Thank God we have the lights of Noel both in the sky and in our homes to grab our attention if only for the amount of time it takes a shooting star to graze across over our human paths.  Blink. 

Thank God we are children at heart who love a good surprise or too that arrive during the unplanned times of the season.  Most of them involve others....... and end up as part of your own story.  Gifts of friendship and compassion.  Gifts that have no monetary value but matter.  Gatherings.  Toasts.  Interactions.  Smiles from strangers.  Isn't it funny how we remember the things at Christmas that simply happen rather than are all planned out? Internal shooting stars wrapped in love.  

Almost time........... ready as I want to be.  Calm and glad.  Thankful in a way I have never felt before.  Even on miserable weather nights, the shooting stars are a plenty.......

one light bigger than the horizon,
held by an angel............

PS.  After two surgeries, I have been told they are confident the cancer cells are gone. I am very relieved.  Exhausted now because I think I was holding my breath inside tightened stressy muscles for months.  But, all is good.  All is bright.   Radiation will happen. It's part of the precautionary plan.  I will know on Friday the details. 

it starts with a breath.........

 The moon's reflection in the river.....

I decided to try to put into words how I prepare myself and get to the place where I can meditate.  The first time it happened, it was a gift I stumbled onto.  Out of exhaustion.  I was so exhausted that it simply occurred because I had no defenses left.  It happened when I attended the Greenbelt Festival in the UK a couple of years ago.  Since then, I have been able to "revisit" that place inside me whenever I want to.   

A few times, I have tried to follow guided meditations or  to books on this ancient ritual but I always put the CD's or books aside because it seemed to complicate the process.  Like religion, I choose to keep it as clear of accouterments as I can.  Not that I want to dumb it down.  Rather, I want to keep whatever spiritual journey or path I take to be as clutter free as possible.  Less judgement.  More acceptance.  My pace.  Does that make sense?  Well, it works for independent little old me!  

During this past year and a half, I have used this technique to help me refocus on the here and now rather than the anxieties of the future or the regrets that linger in the past.  This fall, I have tried to re-kindle and strengthen my belief in a Higher Power as the best way to find strength in hope and optimism as I take the steps to being healthy and whole again.  It most certainly has helped me, because the biggest challenge is not allowing the intrusive scary thoughts to take control over my life!   

Maybe you do something similar?  Maybe what I do will encourage you to try meditation?  Maybe what I do or how I do it creeps you out?  Or maybe all of those self help books and meditation books are too directive? This way or the highway?  

What I have learned from stumbling upon my ability to find a stillness where prayer dwells?

1. I let go of that pent up energy in my muscles by breathing.  By relinquishing the control, I begin to relax. 
2. I remind myself that I am not alone in this scary world and that I don't always have to be in charge.
3. I acknowledge the thoughts and feelings that want my undivided attention and consciously let them float away.  One breath at a time.
4. I remember that the word Spirit and the word Breath are tied in meaning.  This helps me visualize the invisible Holy Spirit who is in the air all around us. Ancestral spirits too. They are all around us too.  I think we feel them deeply at this time of year.

 So, without further yapping............... here it is............

I close my eyes to lift up the inside blinds which cover the window that looks out upon the landscape of my life.

I turn up my internal volume to let in the hums, hymns and harmonies that is the soundtrack of my life.

I release my mind to the thoughts and lessons stored as reflections and mysteries of my life.

I open my heart to rambling brambles of feelings that lead and guide me through the heightened senses of my life.

Deep slow breathing begins with over-awareness of actions 

As I welcome in those immediate thoughts, feelings, sights and sounds tempered with anxious vibrations, 

I breathe.  

Awareness breathing.  Too deliberate at first.  

Breaths like new dance steps take a while to master without full stop awareness. 

 

Acknowledge the vibrations...... those nervous cluttery fears with a cordial greeting, then send them on their way.

I find the courage to let go of my self-centred energy.

The longer I breathe, the easier it is to surrender the energy over ......

I breathe......knowing fresh air is filled with the goodness of Spirit.

Breath ........... Spirit.

Goodness.

Kindness.

Step, dance, step..... 

Relearning to let go ........ to let the breaths happen ..... to let them lead.

To let the Spirit lead.  

To let the Holy into the Spirit. 

Holy Spirit ..... Breath. 

Guiding goodness

Smiling kindness

Step, dance, step.

I allow my vision to center around my perception of home. 

I allow the breaths to take care of me.

Harsh immediacy hands over to relaxed timelessness...... 

I hand over the reins... controlling energy over to blue energy.

Always blue.  Don't know why.  Soothing blue. 

The gates inside me open........ like a vessel ..... unblocked.  

Some call them chakras I think. 

Senses cascade.......

My eyes catch sight of soothing blends of warm twilight, 

earthened hues, tidal blues, tickle pink flowers

elegant morning sun's rays of light lifting off the surface of the river

As it flows, as it flows past my internal window.

My volume hears harmony measured in a pattern beat.

I release my mind to explore mystery

As I let go of controlling emotions, 

I re-learn how to open my heart to the bathing of a humbling message cupped by grace and gratitude ...... 

Life's gifts are real, raw and enhancing.  

Who I am and where I am is who and where I am meant to be.  

__________________________

These moments of meditation have a timeline of their own.  They could last fifteen minutes or an hour.  I never know until it is complete.  And I know I have completed this cycle of calming the inside turmoil when I reach the moment when my whole body takes in one enormous breath of air and lets it out......... whoosh!

margins...........

As a little girl, I was never really good at colouring a picture inside the margins.  I'd start off with those intentions, keeping an eye on the black outline, studiously shading with the same even strokes. Before I knew it, a line of colour would cross over beyond the margins.  I'd usually lose interest in finishing the task.  Too repetitive.  Too mindless.  Or maybe it wasn't mindless.  Maybe it was exactly the opposite and  it was just that my mind that always had a tendancy to drift. It never felt creative.  It always felt too closed in! 

The same can be said for my penmanship.  As my writing style evolved, it became more and more scripty looking.  Given that I am left handed as well and can't see the page as I write, remaining within the left margin and the right side of the paper as well as staying on the line were never my forte.   Can't cut a straight line with scissors either.  And I suck at craft projects that require teeny tiny fine motor skills.  Beading, hand stitching, needlepoint?  Forget about it!  Knitting too.  I've tried.  Not my cup of tea.   

I'm a big canvas, large crafty project kind of person! Expressive!  Open ended!  No boundaries........ Creative infinity.  That's my preference.   There's a freedom of motion and emotion during the process that satisfies and suits me.   I could say the same thing about the type of work I enjoy the most.  Nothing frustrates me more than being shackled by a bunch of bureaucratic rules, especially the ones that impact people negatively or make no sense to me.  I like to push the envelope..... beyond the margins!   To a place where thinking outside of the designated box produces results.   Hold my hands down.  Or, keep me cornered while I feel a sense of unfairness and I just about burst.  

Looks like my body reacts the same way to margins.  It colours outside of the lines!   What does this mean??  Well, it means that I have another appointment with the surgeon on Wednesday.  She needs to make the "margins" around the microscopic cancer area another 1 milimetre wider before I can heal fully and then start radiation treatment..... before everyone is comfortable that all of the cancer has been removed.   

 1 milimetre.......... Crazy eh? The width of a hair!  It seems so outrageously small!   Yet, it is monumentally important this time that my "margins" are respected!!  It's not in my hands to accomplish this.  Thank God, I'm in the hands of a master whom I completely trust......who knows her margins.  I bet even as a little girl she was able to colour without her mind drifting............ Let's frigging hope so!  

A friend or two who have also experienced this told me that its more of a head game than anything.  They weren't kidding!  Every day, I try my best to stay emotionally afloat, to keep things in perspective, to rid myself of "energy vampires," to take in fresh air, to smile, to have bubble baths........ and to catch a falling star to put into my pocket so I can pull it out on the days when the reality of this knocks the sense right out of my head!    It truly is a head game.  An spinny head twirl!

Today, the first Sunday of Advent, I lit a candle.  It is the candle of hope and expectation.........  Just one more silly old milimetre.........  before I light next Sunday's candle.  The Peace one.......

memories floating in the late night air.........

Late night ramblings almost always leads to thoughts that have been turned off for a while.  Random memories surface, triggered by a recognizable feeling or a glimpse of something you see in the darkness of the sky.  I just looked out the window .......... down river.  It had been a snowy day, the first of what may be a long season of hibernation, of contemplation, of healing through meditation and treatment.  Evening's winds brought more swirling tiny flakes, the ones that accumulate more rapidly than the fatter ones for some reason.  Now, all is calm.  A blanket of pristine white stuff covers the streets, blending them into the rest of the landscape.  

The clouds are breaking.  There are no stars visible.  Yet.  Only a few streetlights glow yellow on the other side of the right.  What caught my eye was an unusual light on the horizon.  Nothing glamourous.  Just a swath of dull light coming through the runaway clouds.  It's reassuring message tells me this latest storm is over. For some reason, the view snatches a heartfelt memory I hadn't revisited in long time.  

I love when that happens!  It seems so out of the blue.......... You're looking at one thing and all of a sudden, your thoughts are transported to another time and place.  You hear a piece of music and in one grace note, you find yourself flooded with stories and faces from your past.  Our senses are such a beautiful guide to tapping into our foundational archives.   Sometimes they produce smiles.  Sometimes tears.  Sometimes searing soul pain.  Sometimes comfort.  One or all.......... we feel them when allow the sensory connections to be made between a present moment and a past moment.   

Tonight, as I looked out the window and saw the dull light above the river horizon........ clouds breaking off, floating individually at such a low level, I automatically found myself transported to the time when my son had just been born.  Over 14 years ago.  For the first three weeks of Max's life, he was nocturnal.  His little time clock was upside down.  Consequently so was his Momma's.  I think if he had been my first baby, it would've made me feel inadequate and stressed.... second guessing my ability and all that.  Instead, I was in a different headspace......... and embraced the time we had together during the middle of the night when few lights twinkled in the dark, when the fall storms moved through leaving peace.   We were awake together.  We slept at the same time.  Day was night.  Night was day.  Our own mixed up routine. 

The majority of time at 3 am, he was in my arms as I comfortably sat in the cushioned corner of the couch.  I'd rock him and talk quietly.  I kissed his forehead often, transferring my love to him through touch.  Sometimes, I'd have him tucked in the crook of my right arm while reading a book held by my left hand.  Sometimes, I'd lay him down on a fluffy blanket on the couch to let him stretch his limbs, to let him look around at his surroundings.  If he did fall asleep it was always against my chest.... his little trusting body cuddled up with a complete sense of security.   

Our time together during our nocturnal adjustments left an indelible bond that gestated then and continued to grow in the months following when late nights meant nursing and then a return to his bassinet.  I loved having him in my arms.  As I did with Martha.  Day or night. 

It also left me with a peaceful feeling when my time clock turns upside down..... when my regular routine is cast aside for one reason or another...... and I'm free to go with the flow of sleeping and doing other activities at the wrong time of day.  Its certainly not stress free when I MUST get up in the morning to head to work.  But, as I journey down this little life detour, I feel blessed to have the opportunity to step out of the regular day and listen to the drumming of my own pace.......... my own day and night.  

Now, my two babies have grown up. Well, Max has a few more inches to go.   Still they need reassurance.  Different circumstances.  Different individual needs and life journeys.  Reactions to what their Momma is going through are real.  They need reassurance and I give it.  As much as I know, they know.    They have had to endure a lot of adult issues over the past 2 years and there was no way of protecting them from the harsh realities. As much as I would have loved to do just that!  

Routines like having dinner together at the table, like morning breakfast served in front of the sports updates on the TV, like sharing stories, personal news, thoughts and ideas ..... like putting a fire on the fireplace that acts as a conduit to settling in for an evening of low key-ness, when listening is golden ..... like me tiptoeing into their rooms as they sleep just to check on them...... like encouraging them to try something they have expressed an interest in.... like quizzing them just before a test, or providing feedback all support reassurance.  Bonding.  Belonging.  Feeling loved. 

All is blessedly quiet tonight. I'm the only one living the nocturnal life under this roof.  But I feel far from alone. The bond I feel between my two children and I is one of multi-layered goodness.  Full of warm memories....... full of present day love ........... full of gratitude.  I am a very very lucky Mom. 

Later today, that little baby I held in my arms and rocked and kissed?  He's writing an scholarship exam that is only offered to one person in the whole province.  It would allow him to be able to attend a boarding school he would really like to be a part of.  This is part of his journey.  He needs and wants to write it.... just to see.  I am happy he has the confidence and the BIG dreams to lead him.  It is also a chance for him to learn about how the universe sometimes can look after us............  you just have to put it out there!  I'm very proud of his drive and focus. 

Late night thoughts.............. random memories.......... comfort in the love that remains.......

Canadian flavoured inspirations...........

I watched an interview tonight with Michael J. Fox.  He spoke about his struggles with Parkinson's Disease and the support he receives from his friends and loved ones especially when he's about to step out into the public and his body won't cooperate.  Times when he would've backed out, postponed the event, there was always someone who cared  to give him an invisible but warmly felt embrace, enough support to propel him forward. 

Fox's primary focus since his diagnosis has been on the public and governmental enlightenment of Parkinson's, and most importantly on advocacy.  Demanding more funding for research.  Drumming up more awareness for the need for research.   His choice to go public, to use his personal situation in a manner which promotes the eradication of Parkinson's and other related neurological diseases through intensive research.

This is a man with a mission, albeit one he never ever would've predicted.  He impresses and inspires so many.  Me included. Watching the interview on CTV tonight, I couldn't help but smile at his down to earth approach coupled with his realistic passion as he spoke about his Foundation.   

TEAMFOX, he explained in the interview is what he called "Disruptive Philanthropy."  The Foundation wants results NOW.  There is no Department of Cures, he said.  Money is dispensed for all kinds of research with little or no connection or accountability.  This team wants to know the findings, the progress.  Face to face discussions.  Working together.  What motivates Michael J. Fox?  He has taken on this massive responsibility on behalf of millions of others hoping for a cure to make demands, to raise funds, to send a message that there IS a Foundation that is working for them.  

Active, proactive....... putting it out there!  I am convinced Michael J. Fox's optimistic yet "disruptive" approach, which always comes across as respectful and dignified not only will help this cause, it has most certainly enhanced his life by providing a spiritual energy you can't define. 

Here's another story.................

Last night, regular programming was altered on the CBC.  Hockey Night in Canada kicked in with a special hockey game, featuring the return of Sydney Crosby, Canada's golden boy.  (he did score the gold medal winning goal in the Vancouver Olympics..... something so magical, I don't think you could've scripted the ending better!)  He is THE hope for the NHL to break into the American sports market more effectively.  HE IS the hero and inspiration for every little kid who gets up early for hockey practice at the local rink.  If Sydney could start off as a "Timbit" player and rise to the top of the hockey scoring echelon, why can't I?  

This is the message..... He is the ultimate spokesperson for the sport.  Like his predecessor, Wayne Gretzky, Crosby is a well spoken hometown boy who takes his role seriously.  Respectful whenever he is thrusted into the media limelight (daily) and patient with the onslaught of questions, autograph sessions, time with kids, Sydney naturally became our collective son.

You'd have to been living in a Great White North shoebox  not to know that Sydney Crosby suffered a concussion almost a year ago that sidelined him indefinitely.  Even if you don't catch the news on a regular basis, chances are you heard on story update after another...... from the "catastrophic" messages that he would never play again, to the hopeful message that he just needs time to heal. Many debates on the need to change the type of on ice playing/hitting/checking ensued as did discussions on what a concussion feels like and how it is treated.   Often, a Crosby news update was the headliner in the National paper, or the top story on the National news, usurping some violent uprising that was changing another nation in the Middle East!  SAFE to assume this got out of hand.   The media beat this story to a pulp. 

However, like many folks across this country, I embraced the hype. Why?  Because of his manner.  Because of how he presented himself while working hard to get back in shape.  Because he has drive, determination, focus.  I wanted to see return to the ice again.  Would he be just as effective?  How would he perform?  Would he be able to find that confidence.... that "zone" where only the elite and gifted can enter or would it be gone for good?   It took a matter of seconds to see that Sydney Crosby still ruled the ice.  2 goals and 2 assists later? Boy Wonder is back.  

What he went through personally has had to be life altering. That famous hockey check that knocked him to the ground a year ago (and has been shown on the news on a daily basis....!!!) not only left him with a brain injury and an unpredictable healing journey, it foisted him into the role of spokesman.  Head injuries now have their spokesperson. Even new techniques were tried on him to get him back to top shape.  We're learning abou them now.   It will be interesting to see if he takes this on as effectively as Michael J. Fox has Parkinson's Disease............ If he's paying attention to his destiny, he will.  For now, let him play, play, play.....  let him be the quiet mentor of every kid who laces up for early morning practices.....

So, why did these two stories merge into one article?  Hockey.  Michael J. Fox is a rabid hockey fan.  Crazy for it!!  He may be an American citizen, but he is a Canuck at heart.  Grew up here.  Was fed on Hockey Night in Canada.   He's often seen sitting in the stands at a game.  I'm sure he has had many discussions with his friends on the progress of our golden boy Sydney......  However, there other connections I was thinking abou too.  These two guys have the same behavioural manner.  The same approach to the public.  Respectful.  Approachable.  Determined.  Emotionally literate. Dignified even when they wear flannel plaid!  They project the manner all Canadians aspire to.  These are values we collectively hold dear. It is what is expected of us.  In the boardrooms, on the warfronts, during peacekeeping, in front of a camera........... in our communities, in our classrooms.  Face to face.  

The other thing?  Well it turns out that the place where Michael J. Fox's tremours quietly settle down the most? At the rink.  When he's geared up...... skates, jersey, shoulder pads etc, it appears Fox is in his happy place! Put a hockey stick in his hands and Michael J. Fox is physically and spiritually integrated.  The friendly banterer who continues to be an effective advocate?  I'm sure he was glued to the TV last night too waiting, watching and hoping Sydney could bring the magic back to the game.

These two men, have learned to work hard, and have learned how to tackle "mind over matter....."  Their trials are part of who they are.......  Just thinking about them tonight inspires me as I accept the next stage in my own journey.  Their determination certainly puts things into perspective.