The mountains and the sea

  The Canadian Rockies are spectacular.  My daughter has only been speechless twice in her twenty-five years.  Once when I told her I had bought a house with a pool in the backyard. The next time was when she saw the Rockies for the first time when she was eight.

   My first glimpse of them was through pale gray rain clouds.  My husband, pointed out some enormous shapes through the drizzle.  I thought it was just larger clouds. The mountains of my youth were the ancient Appalachians, which stood like regal elders rounded over with age.  The outline of these was that of prideful youth, tall and craggy reaching nearly to the clouds.  My disbelief turned to wonder as we were enveloped in their majesty.  I had to tilt my head far back to see their peaks.

   As big as they were there are bigger mountains the further in you drive.  But the ones assigned to welcome people, the ones on the distant edges are my favourites.  There is a special place in my heart for the Three Sisters which overlook the mountain town of Canmore.  Set close together with three distinct faces they stand watch through the changing seasons.  They have seen the forest floor change from its evergreen coat into a patchwork of buildings and roads.

   Each time my sisters come to visit we make a pilgrimage to see the Three Sisters.  There are three of us and three of them.  We gaze in awe at them as drive into town.  We eat our lunch in their shadow then shop for fabric while looking out the window of the store soaking in their presence. 

   There is an ancient wisdom and peace about them.  Perhaps it comes from simply standing in one place for so long.  Or perhaps it is their solidness and size.  Whatever it is I find comfort in them.

   I have lived for the last decade in the foothills of these mountains.  Yet it has been at least two years since I have come to call on them.  Yesterday, I returned.  Once again amazed by their power and beauty.

   Without a doubt, I am a beach woman.  The sun, the sand, the pounding of the waves,  speak to my soul.  Given a choice I chose the beach every time.  But I have come to realize that a dose of the mountains every now and then is life giving too.  They have their own kind of energy.

  I could feel the energy shift as I drove in yesterday.  It isn’t always comfortable for me which is why I like the ocean better.  Sometimes the mountains unsettle me.  There is structure and a sense of constraint as I stand in the midst of them.  Where the ocean speaks of endless possibilities the mountains talk of setting goals and heading in a specific direction. 

   I was only there less than twenty-four hours, but I heard their whispers, their call to decisions which are always held in the hand of the Creator.  I listened.  Their voice has taken up residence in the deepest places of my heart to give balance to the wide open dare of the sea.  Together their voices blend to offer guidance as a I launch myself into the next unknown piece of my life.

My own safe place

  Over the last few years as the really hard work of growing up has kicked in, I have learned a few things.  One of them is about being my own safe place.  For years I thought my safety resided in the arms of another, in their heart, and in their love for me.  But as profound as a love may be, unexpected changes come.  Relationships break apart.  People grow in different directions.  Suddenly, or not so suddenly, I found myself on my own again.
   So what happens if your safe place depends on another person?  The safety is tenuous at best.  Once they are gone, life is set adrift.  Through trial and error, tears and laughter, I have discovered that I am my own safe place.  I am the one who sets the boundaries. I am the one who controls my life.  I am the one who, for better or worse, gets to make decisions about who I will be in the world.  If disappointments or heartaches stumble into my life, I know I can cope.  Wisdom and experience tell me I will survive and learn.
  Becoming dependent on myself for my own well-being opens a whole new way of being in the world.  Now when I enter into a relationship it is with a great sense of freedom.  I can be who I am without reserve.  I can open my arms and embrace another with a presence of self that was absent before.
   As with any learning or journey, there are bumps in the road.  Sometimes I need a refresher course or gentle reminder, but for the most part the lesson is learned.  It is one I treasure because it sets me free to love with abandon, to pursue my passions, and to try new adventures.  After all, those are the things that make life abundant and entertaining.

Sadness

   I am sad. Today a friend phoned and told me he has not one, but two types of cancer.  One is rare and aggressive.  My words deserted me.  All I could mumble was "I am so sorry," as the story tumbled out of him.  Cancer has never invaded my personal life this closely before.  Until now, cancer has remained at arm's length; mostly members of my congregation or occasionally a friend's parent.  Now it has come to call on a friend and I am sad.
    The urge to try and fix it, make it better, is strong.  Not the appropriate response.  Experience says the most helpful thing to do is to simply sit and listen; to sit with him in his confusion, anger and disbelief.  As hard as that maybe, it is the only gift I have to offer in these days.  He has brought joy to my life.  He will be the source of some of my secret smiles when I grow old.  I will remember in my dotage his kindness, creativity and wit.  My grandchildren will ask me what I am smiling about and I simply will reply, "A friend," and it will be him.
    My prayer is that the days ahead are a painless and as comfortable as possible for him.  May he be surrounded by the love of family and friends, acts of compassion and tenderness, and places of deep peace.  May there be companionship along way with a good dose of belly laughs and a growing awareness of the gift that he is to world.
    Tonight I am sad.

Dear Universe

Dear Universe,
You seem to be falling down on your part of our bargain.  I am to do my work,  figure out the growing up stuff, be kind to children and small animals, listen for Spirit, follow my bliss and be thankful.  To the best of my knowledge I am showing up for work and putting in extra hours. I continue to explore what it means to a responsible adult.  I have not been mean to a small child or an innocent animal.  In fact, the dogs got extra treats tonight because I had to bribe them to come inside.  I am listening attentively for Spirit and when she shows up I generally follow directions.  As for following my bliss, I am so busy doing everything else there isn't much time for lounging on a beach in Fiji.  Mostly I am thankful, but not today.  Today I realized the work quotient is up and fun quotient is down.  Could you please attend to this pressing matter.   While you are at it, could you do something about those ridiculous profiles on the online dating sites.  Really!  One of those men emailed me on one site not remembering I had already chatted with him on another site. I am not sure what that says about him or me.
    Mostly, it would be nice if you sent a lovely man who can carry on an intelligent conversation, make me laugh, take me out to dinner and do a few other things.  I think you know what I mean.  To quote a friend " A highly indivuatated male who is need of intimate reconnection."  Having reconnected I would then like to send him home.  I have things to do, as you well know.
    Thank you for your immediate attention to this matter.  If the situation is not resolved shortly, I may have to resort to staying in bed and eating chocolate.
   Eagerly awaiting your reply.
       Ms. Cranky Pants

Tempting the Universe

  Some days are made to waltz right through with everything going your way.  On those days the traffic lights stay green,  everything you take out of your closet fits and doesn't need to be ironed.  On those days you find everything you need when you need it. The bonus is that someone buys you lunch.  Those days are bliss.  Other days are not.
   The other days are days of red lights, missed appointments and people who simply refuse to listen to reason.  Those are the days that try the patience of a saint and require a shot of whiskey at the end of them.  Okay, maybe not whiskey, vodka. 
     Those are the days when you think to yourself, "It can't get any worse."  Uh oh! The Universe has been challenged and  has ,accepted.  Today the Universe won.
      Today was filled with frustration from the beginning. I couldn't find a pair of clean socks.  The essentials of my briefcase were scattered around the house.  Only one of the earrings I wanted to wear showed up for duty.  Finally, I made it to work, where I spoke in measured reasoned tones with wisdom and grace and no one paid any attention at all.
       Uttering the fateful words, "How can this day get any worse?" I trundled off to do a visit.  A retired couple in the congregation wanted me to go with them to visit an 80 year old who was too busy to come to church but wanted to meet the minister.  Clue #1.   Having been given the wrong address, it took me fifteen minutes and the help of the office administrator to find the correct destination.   Apologizing  profusely, I took off my coat and was escorted to the dining room table.
   The table was lovely.  An arrangement of spring flowers sat in the middle.  Brightly colored napkins were set at each place.  The two women went off to the kitchen to see about dessert, while the husband of the couple and I chatted.  They returned carrying mugs of steaming liquid which they sat proudly at each place. My heart sank.  The mug read "Coffee".  I hate coffee.  I don't like the smell.  I don't like the taste.  I don't like coffee flavored anything.  I hate coffee.  But there it was, a full steaming mug of freshly brewed coffee waiting for me to indulge.  My mother raised me right, I cannot with any sense of dignity refuse hospitality.  I had no choice.  I poured lots of cream into it and spent the next hour sipping.  The offers of another cup were politely declined as I assured them that this much caffeine this late in the day would keep me up.
    Once I had my head around the coffee issue and had come to terms with it, out came the pie. "Oh," I thought to myself, "lemon meringue.  I love it!"  Once the pie was in front of me, I noticed something strange.  There were bananas peeking out of the bottom of the slice.  "Oh no, not lemon meringue.  Banana. "  I have the same affinity for banana cream pie as I do for coffee.  At least there was sugar involved this time.
   The moral of the story is that the Universe should not be tempted lest you end up with coffee and banana cream pie and the upset stomach to go with it.  Tomorrow has got to be better!  I think tomorrow's question will be "How much better can this day get?"  Who knows maybe that will make a glass of ice cold Coke and order of fries show up!

Bless us

 

Bless us

who know the darkness

and do not fear it,

who carry light,

and are not consumed,

who prepare the way,

and will not abandon it,

who bless with grace,

that does not leave us. 

 (adapted from Jan Richardson, In Wisdom’s Path, p.48

        

A Moment

There comes a moment in your life when the possibility for change hangs on a breath.  The moment comes unassumingly. You can miss it or dismiss it if you aren't careful.  It is a moment when you can decide to do something differently than you have always done it.  In that second when you opt for a new, untried way of being, everything changes.  The energy shifts.  It starts to flow in uncharted directions.  Life tilts.  Perspectives are rearranged.  It may not be apparent immediately, but one day you realize how different life is and you can trace it back to that moment when you said "yes" to a new possibility.
    Sometimes the moments crowd on top of each other and for each "yes" you  say, the shift grows.  The change becomes large and fast, carrying you along at warp speed.  In those times, you simply hang on to see where you will end up.  Those are the dramatic changes. The ones that are easy to see and to know.
    Grace is what helps us to see the tiny moments, to embrace them and to know that large gifts can come in them as well.

As the bathroom goes...

 Signs of spring are all around.  Even as the snow trickles down sporadically,  the air carries the hint of soil.  Tulips are pushing their leaves up through thawing ground.  The enormous snow hares that roam the neighbourhood are turning from white to brown.  All the signs are pointing in the right direction.
  While Mother Nature is always clear about the change of seasons,  I must rely on different signs to give me a hint about the state of my internal being.  When work is busy and life is full my ability to gauge my emotional and spiritual temperature gets compromised.  Luckily I have one sure fire way to tell when life is getting out of hand and I better pay attention quickly. 
    What is that one marvellous, always accurate tell tale sign you ask?  It is the state of my bathroom.  Under normal circumstances the makeup goes in its basket, the trash gets emptied regularly, dirty clothes are in the hamper, the flat iron is put away and all my odds and sods of beauty stuff are arranged neatly on the counter.  Currently, the toilet paper has not made it to the holder and is wandering from the edge of the bathtub to the counter and back again.  My clothes from yesterday are on the floor.  I don't know where I left my fluffy pink towel.  Let's not even discuss the disarray of my small counter top.  Something is up. Now I just have to figure out what it is.  It could be any number of things: work dissatisfaction,  tiredness, loneliness,  too much work to do, or something completely different..... Now in addition to set the bathroom to rights I need to take a few minutes to sit still and listen to my inner voice, which is desperately trying to get my attention.
   You have heard the saying, " As Maine goes, so goes the nation."  My version is "As goes the bathroom, so goes my mental health."  Today we may be in trouble.

The dogs are in charge

        The demographics of my household have changed dramatically over the last ten years.  Ten years ago I lived with a mixed assortment of two legged and four legged creatures.   At its peak capacity, my house included one spouse, four children, one hamster, one cat and one dog.  The first to leave the house was Pepsi the hamster.  Good riddance, I say.  Pepsi  met an untimely death after chewing a hole in the living room sofa.  Guess he didn’t realize Olfin is not good for anyone’s digestive system.  Karma is a bitch!

              Soon after the poor rodent’s demise, there were high school graduations which sent the two oldest children out into the world.  Suitcases packed they moved into homes of their own, only to discover the real world where toilet paper is an expensive item not previously budgeted for.  With the two remaining children, the spouse at the time,  I packed everyone up and headed West.   A few years into our new adventure in the city of Cows, the spouse realized he was gay and that was the end of that.

            Please note that at this point in time the two teenage children and the two animals out numbered the only adult in the house; me.  Those are not good odds even when the teenagers are relatively uncomplicated.  (Yes, my darlings you were wonderful.)  The odds eventually began to shift in my favor as more high graduates were added to the family ranks.  The animal population decreased and then soared again.  Now at the decade mark, I found myself the only two legged creature in residence.  The four legged creatures number two.

            As  I sit on my bed writing this tale of self -discovery, the combined weight of ten pounds of dog lay stretched out beside me.  The oldest of the pair is laying on his back, white paws in the air and balls to the wind. The youngest, a three pound ball of Yorkie might, is curled on the softest blanket on the bed. 

            Henry, the elder, came into my life almost  six years ago.  I had gotten a bee in my bonnet that for some reason, one adult, two children, one dog and one cat were not enough for our house.  No, I decided it was far too calm.   The remedy; a puppy. The dog was to be my son's.  Of course, since he was the only male in the house at the time, he opted for a male puppy.  Never again I say!  The said boy is now grown living in an apartment where adorable dogs are not allowed.  Thus, mother has custody.

       Henry and I moved by ourselves a year ago.  The boy and the cat went East.  Henry and I went South.  The odds were in my favor at that point.  I was the sole human and I was bigger!  However, dogs can get depressed.  Henry was forlorn.  No animal companions and his human had the audacity to leave him by himself when working.  Finally I could take it no longer.  The pitiful brown eyes made me cave.  Also the fact that my sister had me looking at puppies online with her.  She was in the market for a new dog after her two precious toy poodles died.  

       In the quest to be a good sister and support my sibling in her search, I scoured the internet looking at possible canine candidates.  In the process I stumbled across an ad for Yorkie pups.  Oh dear!  Foolishly I went and looked.  That was, as they say, the end of that.  Minnie was mine, all one and half pounds of her.

       Today the two legged creatures out number me again.  I am content with the odds this time.  Their welcome is always enthusiastic when I arrive home.  Delight in my presence is perpetual, even when I am cross and cranky, which you must understand is a rare occurrence.  I am thankful for the company and companionship my furry friends bring me daily.  The balance is perfect.  No stray cats, wayward dogs, or grown children need to appear on the doorstep!  The inn is full.

PS. Today my sister and brother-in-law had to put their beloved wolfhound, Captain, to sleep. That huge, lovely beast will be deeply missed!

A Messy Life

Life is messy.  It amazing how hard that truth is for us to hear.  We expect neat, tidy, orderly and easy.  That is not how life is designed.  It is out of the mess, the chaos, the fear and the disarray comes the wisdom, the grace, the hope and the wonder.
   As philosophical and Zen as I sound,  I need to reminded on a continual basis of this essential truth.  Today the mess of life literally poured in as a torrent of water made it's way from the leaky roof of the gym onto the hardwood floor beneath.  It began as a trickle on Sunday as we sipped our coffee and ate our cookies.  The constant drip into the strategically placed buckets was a source of delight for the horde of young boys who roam the nooks and crannies of the old church.  I even saw one adult hold their coffee cup underneath a drip and catch it in their cup for a moment.  Water fascinates us, young and old.  It was fascinating until the drips turned into streams, the leaks increased and we ran out of buckets.  About this time, panic set in.  Who you gonna call on a Sunday afternoon to deal with an old, leaky roof?  The Property Committee stepped in and started to phone around.
    Yesterday the water continued.  By today the restoration people were in with huge fans to dry us out. The roofing people announced that we will be dry soon, but the insulation is old, wet and rotted and needs to come out.  Oh and by the way, there is probably abestos up there too.  Mess, mess and more mess.
   We are standing on the brink of a moment which has not yet been fully born.  We are at the edge of deciding what to do with this century old building which no longer meets our need, drains our coffers and we love more than we care to admit.   Big decisions are on the horizon. 
   I spent the morning wandering around the office as one by one the repair folks appeared reporting on their findings.  By the end of the afternoon I was babbling to myself.  The women in the office were giggling as I muttered "Lord, have mercy" in my best Southern drawl.  This mantra was followed by "We have peace in our hearts."  The giggles continued.  But it dawned on me, maybe  I was onto something.  What we need above all is peace in our hearts, maybe more buckets too, but peace in our hearts is a good start.  The gigglers added; "Peace in our hearts and no money in our jeans."  Okay, their rendition is more accurate.
  Mess is the breeding ground not just for toxic mold, but for possibilities, new life and a new world.  I suspect we are in for a big growth spurt.  It will not be straightforward or painless.  It will lead us to places we could not have anticipated or imagined, that is the way mess works.  May we have peace in our hearts for what lies ahead and a little money our jeans,  at least enough for a phone call.
    
   

How did I get here?

   At seven o'clock this evening I found myself wondering again how I ended up here.  Here was the lobby of the local police station.  No, I was not in trouble with the law.  Tonight was my ride along.  As part of our training for Victim Services we are required to do a ride along with a constable.  Tonight was my night.
   I must admit I was a bit apprehensive.  Violence even in movies or on TV shakes me to my core. My imagination was running wild.  When the Sargent handed out the shot guns for the shift I began to rethink the whole idea. Really, they already carry pistols and tasers. Fortunately, it was a relatively slow evening with very polite criminals.  I am told that is not usually the case!  None of the weaponry was necessary!
   My constable for the evening was a charming,  handsome young man. Tall, dark hair, bright blue eyes with the kind of eyelashes women envy.  Soft spoken, he answered all my questions and invited me in where ever it was safe. He reminded me of one my sons.
   We made a trip to the drunk tank at the jail.  I got to go in and stand behind the counter with the corrections officers.  One of them offered to let me stay in the tank for awhile if I wished.  I politely declined. We went to the emergency room and visited a couple of homes.  The highlight of the night was speeding down the main road with lights flashing on the way to a robbery.  I discovered I have a need for speed.  For a moment it looked like the canine unit would get a chance to track.  Unfortunately, for the dog the suspect was readily apprehended.  One other thing worth mentioning, when a police car pulls up behind you they are probably running your license plate even though you aren't doing anything illegal.  They are checking that you have a current valid drivers license and your registration is up to date.  Thought you might want to know that tidbit.
   The tour also included where the downtown stroll is located, which bars have the rowdiest clientele and which are the seediest parts of town.  All important information for a single woman alone in this small city.
   We took a coffee break at Tim Horton's with another constable.  No coffee only tea. Much to my surprise I had a lovely conversation with other officer about Julia Cameron's book, The Right to Write.   He is a writer too.
     It was a surreal six hours, ones I am glad I experienced.  Before I went I had an appreciation for the men and women who serve on the police force.  Tonight my admiration went up.  No way could I do their job but I am thankful they do it and do it so well.
 

Gaga for Gaga

   Sometimes we are fortunate and stumble across people, ideas, books or shows that tell us what we need to hear at exactly the right time. Most often we don't even know we need to hear the message which is part of the unexpected wonder of it all.  Over the last week or so I have been pondering about my heart's passion, that passion that lies at the core of our being and gives life meaning and direction.  It is more than just a job, more than simply existing.  The heart's passion goes deep into us and finds expression in the world as it moves people to awareness and wholeness. George Clooney, in his stand against the Sudanese government, seems to have captured part of his. 
  As I channel surfed tonight one last time before heading to bed, I landed on Oprah's channel and her interview with Lady Gaga.  I must admit until tonight I knew very little about Lady Gaga, other than she wears some very interesting shoe apparel.  As I listened to her talk with Oprah my admiration grew for this young woman with the strange outfits and interesting music.  She has started a foundation called "Born This Way".  Her passion, given voice in this foundation, is help people to accept and be proud of who they are no matter  conventional culture might say.  She speaks out for the vulnerable and marginalized.  As one of the most powerful and wealthy women on the planet she has chosen to bring all of that to bear in bringing about a shift of consciousness.  Instead of promoting hatred or judgement she chooses to speak of inclusivity and acceptance.  Impressive from one so young in years.
   Far older and far less famous, I continue to look for the clarity of my heart's passion that Gaga seems to have found.  It is coming.  I can feel it.  In the time until it does I continue to be inspired by those who have found their way to the passion of their hearts.  People like Lady Gaga, and maybe George, Mother Teresa point the way.  There are others who are less known like Joyce, who at eighty, runs the local food bank.  There is Wendy who volunteers countless hours each month to Victim Services.  There is Frank who makes it his mission to ensure that the little old ladies who live in the neighborhood have their snow is shoveled in the winter and their grass cut in the summer. 
    Lady Gaga is truly an inspiration.  She gives me hope for the world.  The others who live around me remind me that I can find my heart's passion here right where I am.  When I find it, I will know it and a new journey will begin.

George, not just a pretty face

  CNN reported this week on the arrest of George Clooney.  His arrest, unlike many of his colleagues, was not for drunk driving or substance abuse.   Clooney, his father and several others were protesting the Sudanese government blockade of humanitarian aid to the country.  The aid is headed to a border region where possibly a quarter million people are facing a food shortage.  They are also experiencing violence at the hands of the government forces.
    Also arrested was John Prendergast, co-founder of the Enough Project which seeks to to end genocide and crimes against humanity.  Sudan is one of the places where the Project is involved.  Clooney and an impressive list of celebrities lend their names, time and resources to support the ongoing effort.
    While it is horrifying that this kind of abuse and violence happens in our world, it refreshing to see that people like Clooney offering their resources to help.  I knew I liked George!  He isn't just a pretty face, he has courage and dignity to lend.  Hurray for him to stand up and be counted and even get arrested in the process.  When people with that kind of notoriety stand up, issues which might otherwise pass by privileged first world people like me, move to the front of the news and get the attention they deserve.  Now what I am going to do?

Numbers, numbers everywhere

  Today at the gym, I received my Smart Card.  This amazing small card with a bar code when placed in a machine will record the number of repetitions that I have done, my range of motion and my energy expended.  As well, it will tell me how many more machines I have to workout on to complete a full workout.  A green light will tell me if I am working in my target range.  If it is orange I am not working hard enough.  As I circled around the room dutifully working the weight machines, I noticed that instead of paying attention to what I was doing, I was watching the silly machine flash numbers at me.
  I was struck by how numbers rule our lives; the balance in our bank account, our phone numbers, fax numbers, pin numbers, Social Insurance number, credit numbers, weight etc.  Everywhere there are numbers to be memorized and kept in our brain. Some days our lives are subsumed into the endless number vortex.  A few years ago I realized my brain was not large enough to keep all my important numbers in my head.  Last week when the financial planner asked me for my Social Insurance number ( same as a Social Security number in the States) I looked at him like he had sprouted two heads because I didn't have a clue.  He looked at me like I was slow because I didn't know it.  After a year, I have yet to memorize the phone number for the office.  Thank goodness for Smart Phones and datebooks! 
    My resolution is not to get swept into the numbers trap and merrily exercise my way around the circuit as I dance to "California Girls."  After all the important thing is that I am moving not how fast I am going.  What a good lesson for life.

An Unexpected Good-bye

I am sitting in my office willing myself to get some work done.  After a fourteen hour people filled day yesterday, my motivation is flagging and my stamina is ebbing.  My order for a small pizza from the family pizza joint across the street should be ready momentarily.  Perhaps all I need is sustenance.  By the way, the pizza place is far too convenient for a woman trying to get fit and who keeps forgetting her lunch.  I could go across the street in the other direction and eat at the Senior's Centre.  There really isn't a satisfying solution to the dilemma.
   My workplace is buzzing today.  The local Catholic parish has had its largest church closed by order of the Bishop, which leaves local congregations nowhere to hold large funerals.  They are using our space today for a funeral of a young father who committed suicide.  They are expecting around 700 folks.  Needless to say, there are funeral directors scurrying to set up and church ladies spreading food around the hall.  The office is information central.  Fortunately, the office administrator and the facilities rental person are in charge of that piece.  I get to talk with the funeral directors whom I know by first names since this is a small town.  Evidently, letting the Catholics use the church is a big deal and unprecedented here. My reply, since it was my call, was why wouldn't we let a grieving family say good-bye surrounded by their friends and family.  It doesn't matter what our faith traditions are.  Someone died and people want to honour, celebrate and grieve together.  Thank goodness we have the space to offer.
    As I write, the family is passing outside my window, walking through the warm spring air to enter with the casket from the front. A wife and three young children lead the way.  I have the speakers turned on so I can hear what is happening in the sanctuary.  Silent support and prayers from an unknown Protestant minister tucked away behind her desk go with them.
  May the family find peace in the coming days as they struggle to find a way back to a semblance of normal.  Someday may they remember life as it was with laughter instead of tears.  In the meantime may they soak in the love that surrounds them, for that is the way to healing and hope from the place of sadness and grief that they now inhabit.

Tide

  My news sources are somewhat limited, by choice.  The CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Company) radio as I drive to and from work is the primary way I hear about all the goings on in the world.  During the presidential election years, I watch CNN sporadically.  Finally, though I hate to admit it, Yahoo's blurbs fill in the odd and entertaining stories.  I don't watch TV news because I find it upsetting.  If there is something important I need to know it will be on the radio or someone will tell me.
  Today, my most reliable news source, Yahoo, reported a story about the upswing in the shoplifting of Tide laundry detergent.  I am Tide woman as was my mother.  It never occurs to me to buy another brand.  However good the product, it never struck me as a valuable commodity on the black market.  I was wrong!  Apparently North Americans are very dirty and want the top brand of detergent at a discount.  The report explained that Tide is also bartered for drugs.  I am baffled.  Now we have clean drug dealers who are out to save a buck or two on their laundry.  The world is a strange place!

Santorum, Religion and Politics

  Tonight several Southern states held Republican primaries as the candidates continue to battle for delegates.  At this point, it appears that Rick Santorum has won Mississippi and Alabama.  My concern for the state of the US, my home country, is growing.  While I live and have lived for thirty years in Canada,  I have family in the US. Also as the closest neighbour to Canada, what happens in the US effects what happens here.
    I am not conservative nor Republican, but I find myself strangely intrigued by the Republican race in an odd sort of way.  What captures my attention the most is the use of religion in the campaign.  Santorum, a conservative Catholic, is challenging everyone's faith.  It appears that if someone says they are Christian but doesn't agree with him, then they are a lesser Christian. I didn't know there were degrees of Christianity.   Liberal mainline Protestants are certainly in the lesser category.  The Pope, in fact, supports this position.  He announced a few years ago that Protestants are not Christian at all.  Everyone is entitled to their opinion,  and I happen to disagree with them both. 
   When I listen to Santorum talk about his faith and how it informs his politics, I cringe.  No wonder the next generation has little use for or interest in organized religion.  If religion, faith or anything Christian is like what Santorum is espousing, I don't want to be involved with any of it either.
   Our spiritual lives should inform all of our life.  Red flags start flying for me when the only way is one way.  In Santorum's world pagans, Muslims, Jews, and Buddhists have nothing of value to offer a discussion about the future and direction of the US.  What a loss for everyone!

Around and around we go

Bottle of water...check.  Clean runners....check.  Pass card in my pocket...check.  Off to the gym I go, ready to hit the machines and get sweaty.  Exercise doesn't count unless there is a bit perspiration involved.  The sweat proves that I actually did something.  Of course, if anyone looks at my bright red face they know I have been exerting myself.
   Machine, walk, machine, walk.  Around the circuit I go, chatting with the others who have shown up at this time of day.  There is talk of holidays, children, jobs and even current events to help pass the time.  The Beach Boys belt out summer music that reminds me of my younger days.  Now their voices accompany me as I flex my muscles and strengthen my stamina.
    Thirty minutes later and a good stretch, I am done.  I am still amazed at how much better I feel when I show up and move my body.  Now there are two daily activities which contribute to sense of well-being:  writing and exercise.  I am afraid vegetables are next.

A Grown Up Moment

As I was driving to work this morning,  I discovered a new feeling.  I wasn't quite sure what it was.  Certainly it didn't feel familiar.  It felt good.  I frowned a bit and puzzled over what exactly was going on.  Finally it dawned on me, I was feeling grown up.   I was on my way to a full time job, in a car that I am making regular payments.  I had set out from a relatively clean and tidy house which the bank and I own together.  The fridge is full, the dogs are fed, there are clean sheets on  my bed.  A responsible adult with her mother's rings on and having a good hair day was out and about in the world.  Job well done.
   Being grown up has gotten a bad reputation over the years.  Being grown up seems to imply a rigidity, a lack of sponteneity and playfulness.  I think being grown up can encompass some of the wonderful attributes of childhood, but it balances them with wisdom and grace.  At least that is my working theory.  For those moments in the car this morning, I felt at peace with myself and proud of what I have accomplished so far.  Of the course the feeling,  fled when I encountered the first person in my travels today.  But I remember and the memory will keep me going until I find it again.  There is a playful, wise grown up in the making!

Life lessons and key chains

Every now and then life hands me a tune up lesson, a reminder about things I have already learned but seemed to have forgotten.  The lesson does not come in a e-mail marked urgent or in stack of papers delivered via snail mail.  No, most often it is comes disguised in the ordinary daily tasks of life.
   Yesterday had a remedial lesson hidden in its midst.  Believe it or not, it happened in Wal-Mart.  I was in search of a spiral plastic thingy (note the technical term) that you can put on your wrist and attach a key to it.  I need one to on which to put my new gym card, which is about the size of the grocery key chain cards.  I swipe in when I go in and it records my visit.  This feature is important so that when I reach one hundred visits I get a tee shirt.  Wardrobe enhancement always a plus.  Also each time I go to a weight machine, I insert the card and it records my reps, energy expended and range of motion.  What will they think of next?  All this is to say, I need it really available and attached to my massive key chain. 
    I thought it would be a simple task to find one of these thing a ma bobs (technical term again) because everyone seems to have them.  The Dollarama does not.  Off across the parking lot to Wal-Mart I head. After cruising the likely spots with no results, I do the sensible thing and ask a sales clerk.  She directs me back to the Stationary aisle, where I had spent the last ten minutes, with the assurance I can't miss them.  That statement should have been a clue, I always miss the obvious.  Back I trundle and spend another ten minutes cruising the two aisles.  No luck.  I ask another sales clerk who goes down the aisle and immediately puts his hands on the spiral key chains.  I had passed them by at least twenty times.  There were six in a pack hanging neatly on the hook among the tape and the post it notes.  The problem was that they didn't look like I had expected.
   I was looking for a single bright yellow one hanging by itself.  Instead a number were packaged together; olive green, gray, and pink.   I didn't realize my expectations until I saw what they really looked like.  Life lesson:  expectations may cause me to miss something important because what I am looking for doesn't like like what shows up.  Short form:  lose the expectations and look at what is in front of me, that is when life gets interesting.

Gym Goddess

  Each day is an adventure complete with new experiences.  Today's adventure was a trip to the gym.  I finally have summoned the courage and possibly the commitment to exercise.  One late afternoon last week I trundled my weary self down to the local Curves franchise.  A very perky silver haired woman extolled the virtues of the 30 minute workout circuit.  While I did not share her enthusiasm, nor could I work myself up to any kind of excitement about the virtues of excerise, I dutifully handed over a voided cheque.  In that moment, I committed to a regular routine of moving my body.  Ugh!
   Several days later I found myself back at the gym.   This time it was to receive orientation about the vast array of weight machines I would be expected to use as I made my way around the circle.  Each machine would be worked for thirty seconds followed by thirty seconds marching in place on a little piece of wood.  The idea is that you go around the circuit twice and you have completed a cardio and weight workout.  However, you can't just start.  There is training involved.  You need to learn how to place your feet, where to put your arms, how to move your body.   As soon as the orientation was complete, my brain emptied all the information into the recycle bin.  I don't why they think middle aged women will retain any of the training that is imparted.  The Leaky Brain Syndrome is rampant in women in their fifties.
    Today was my first attempt to actually do the workout.  I showed up with a bit of an attitude.  Slightly grumpy would best describe my emotional accessory for the day.  It went well with my tight navy capri yoga pants, over sized navy tee shirt and lovely gray runners.  I was the picture of a committed gym goer.
   There was no one on the circuit when I arrived, which was a good thing.  The trainers had to retrain me!  Little by little I was joined by women of all sizes and ages.  Together we huffed and puffed our way around the circle. A little conversation about, what else, food, ensued.  One of the women was a health inspector and gave us a run down on the cleanest and nastiest restaurants  in town.   I wonder if the management hired her to talk in the hopes it would discourage our impulse to eat out.
    Around I went twice.  A good session of stretching and a bottle of water finished off the event.  Street shoes back on and out to the car I go.  Amazingly, as I got into the car, I realized I had actually enjoyed the workout.  Progress is being made.  After all, one workout does not a gym goddess make.  I think the number is, in fact, three.  Maybe by the end of the week goddess status will be achieved.  The world really does need to watch out!

Rush Limbaugh

     The media outlets are filled with outrage at Rush Limbaugh's comments a few days ago about a young woman named Sandra Fluke.  He referred to her in language that is offensive in any civilized context.  What does it say about the world we live when a radio personality feels free to speak of someone who disagrees with him with such venom and ugliness.  Sandra Fluke dared to speak at a congressional hearing about contraception.  She was advocating for easy access of birth control for women.  I happen to agree with her and I respect the right of others to disagree.  To be on opposites of an issue doesn't give license to get personal and rude about those who believe differently.  There can be no debate of any significance, no sharing of ideas or learning from each other if our responses are littered with profanity and hate.
   Finally, people are standing up and saying, "No more."  Limbaugh's time to to say whatever floats through his brain, I hope, is ended. The ensuing uproar has caused financial repercussions.  If nothing else gets through, loss of income will.  Maybe we as a society are beginning to realize that the words we choose do make a difference.  How we choose to speak of others creates the type of society we live in.  What we say, tells the world who we are.  Rush, you aren't looking so good today.

Book List

Someone asked me the other day what are the most important books I have read.  While I could come up with one or two, I knew there were more.  Over the last week or so I have been pondering the question and have arrived at an answer.  Here, in no particular order, are the most influential books and the best loved books I have read.

*  A Wind in the Door  Madeleine L'Engle   (fiction)
             A young adult novel.  The second in the A Wrinkle in Time series.

*  Don't Sweat the Small Stuff -  Family Edition Richard Carlson

*  The Five Love Languages Gary Chapman

*  Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus John Gray

*  You Can Heal Your Life  Louise Hay

*  Bird by Bird  Anne Lamott ( a book about writing)

*  The Right to Write  Julia Cameron (another book about writing)

*  The Soul of Money  Lynne Twist 
     A transformational book about our connection to money

These are the ones that seem to have made a difference for me and helped to understand myself and the world a bit better.  I would be interested to hear about what books have made an impact on you.

Really?

  Warning...rant to follow.   I should have known better.  I do know better but I did it anyway.  I went back on the online dating sites to see who is out there.  Bad, bad idea.  There seem to be a few interesting men scattered among the hundreds of thousands of profiles out there.  The question is how to get the vaguely attractive, articulate ones to respond to a woman who is also vaguely attractive and intelligent.  A good number of those men want someone far younger than they are.  I long for a profile that is creative, well written with proper spelling from a man who has realistic sense of self.  They appear to be few and far between.
   On the other hand, I daily encounter women who are witty, funny, creative, articulate with generous hearts.  Yet they can not find a suitable partner because they don't conform to a male ideal.  It doesn't make sense to me.   There is an increasing number of single people over fifty.  While at the beginning the online dating sites seemed to be a solution for connecting people, I am not sure it has lived up to the hype.  Of course there are successful connections made in that arena.  But not always, Wonderful amazing men and women are still looking for some companionship and romance and can't seem to find each other.   I wonder what needs to happen for them to connect.

Anger

  Anger is never pretty and it is exhausting.  I lost my temper today.  I feel awful, physically awful.  My body is never quite sure what to do with adrenaline  rush that comes with the anger.  It leaves me feeling depleted. 
   I don't lose my temper often.  Crabbiness is part of my make up from time to time, but outright anger is rare.  My boundaries were violated and I got angry.  Part of the anger is at myself for not making the boundaries stronger and clearer from the beginning.  I own that piece.  I also own that I did not behave well.  I didn't say anything hurtful, I simply turned around and left.  I knew if I stayed I would be spiteful and maybe mean.  No one would be served by that display.  I simply left and went into my office until the storm had calmed. It didn't leave, merely lessened intensity. 
    There are lessons for me to learn when the anger flares.  This time it has to do with being clear and firm about what is acceptable and not acceptable in my life, both personal and professional.  I have come a long way over the years with practicing good boundaries and sticking to them.  Maybe I need a refresher course.
    Sometime in the next few days I will apologize and own my behavior. I will also be clear about how life together will proceed with regard to how I am treated. Sounds arrogant doesn't it? What I have discovered, though, is that if I don't exercise good self care everything crumbles.  My goal is to live in right relationships with the people around me.  I have to speak up for myself with kindness and grace, but speak.  As someone famous said, "We teach people how to treat us."  In this case, I have been a poor teacher.  Thankfully, tomorrow is a chance to get back on track.

Angels Part 2

  The number of people who have encountered angels is astounding.  As I said before, we don't talk about those things very much.  People might think we are crazy.  However, the more likely scenario is that once we told our story they would tell theirs.  In the spirit of openness, I will share my angel story.
     About fifteen years ago when I was in a dark and frightening time of my life I ended up as an adviser at a Youth Conference.  The campus of a university was covered with about six hundred teenagers.  I had responsibility for providing small group leadership twice a day for about ten of them.  Each day ended with everyone gathering for music.  Six hundred adolescents singing and jumping up and down as the band played was something to behold.  One evening, feeling very alone in the middle of the crowd, I was standing along the wall of theatre.  No one was near me.  All of sudden I had the sense that someone was behind me and had put their hands on my shoulders.  It felt warm, comforting and familiar as if it were the hands of a friend.  I turned around to speak to whoever it was and there was no one there.  I believe it was an angel providing comfort when life seemed hopeless and a reminder that I was not alone.  It helped me deal with life as it unfolded.  The following months were difficult but the sense that I was not alone carried me through.  Angels do visit at the oddest times in the strangest places.

Angels Part 1

  Demons got air time yesterday, it only seems fair that angels get some as well.  My stance on angels is much clearer.  I believe in them.  They do exist, though probably not with white wings and halos.  They are energies or entities, depending on your perspective, that protect and guide us.  In the book of Enoch, seven archangels are named:  Michael, Gabriel, Uriel, Raphael, Raguel, Sariel, Remiel.  They are sent to the far ends of the earth to watch.  The Wiccan tradition has what are called Ancient Watchers, which are for me a different name for those beings.
   Angels are light bringers offering hope and help.  They come in forms we might not recognize as angelic, but they come.  It is amazing how many of us have had angelic moments.  We just don't talk about them. I am fortunate that people will tell me about those experiences.
   Often the encounters happen around the death of a loved one.  I have sat a numerous bedsides as people pass from this life to the next.  I believe the angels gather as the time draws near.  The one passing can see them, we can't. The dying person will get a look in their eyes which tell those gathered that they are seeing something beyond this time and space.  The angels are gathering in preparation for the time to come. While angles may not be visible to the naked eye, they can be felt.  They bring warmth and peace with them.
  Many times people choose to die when the family goes for coffee or a meal.  The family is then upset because they believe their loved one died alone.  I don't think so.  I believe each person at that moment of transition is surrounded by angels who guide them on to the next step of their journey.  We never die alone.  We are held in the angels' arms with light and love.  Thank goodness for angels!
    

Teenage exortists

  Afternoon TV watching is not usually on my schedule, but to due to a variety of circumstances I found myself in front the TV yesterday.  After a bit of channel surfing I ran across Anderson Cooper's new talk show.  His guests were Rev. Bob Larsen and three teenage girls who are in training under Rev. Larsen's guidance to be exorcists.  The girls, who range in age from 17 to 20, claim they have cast out demons for years.
   They were sincere and convinced that what they are doing helps people. I commend them for their eagerness to make a positive difference in the world.  But I must admit, I have some serious questions about the whole concept.
   I do believe in evil, though the jury is still out on demons.  I am not willing to rule them out, but I am not ready to embrace the personal personification of evil quite yet.  But even if I were to admit there are demons, is it a good idea for teenagers to be engaging them?  A Catholic priest that was on the panel as well, pointed out that the girls don't have the spiritual maturity to be able to do an exorcism.  Good point.  To go head to head with evil requires maturity, confidence and experience.  It is a dangerous business which should not be undertaken lightly or by children.  I fear the invulnerablity of youth is not serving them well.  Also, where are the adults in their lives?  Bob Larsen is the father of one of them.  If he is to be believed he himself has performed over 15,000 exorcisms.   You would think he would know the dangers of it.
    Whatever you believe about evil, one thing is certain, children need to be protected from it. Fighting of evil best belongs with folks like Superman or Harry Potter.  If they aren't available, then at least let the hand to hand combat be done with adults and let teenagers worry about what college to attend or what dress to wear to the prom.

Unexpected gifts

Life at work recently has been, shall we say, a bit busy.  I have spent long hours these last few weeks doing pieces of my job that are not my favorite pieces.  Like any work there are parts that are fulfilling and other parts that are simply necessary.   Many necessary pieces have presented themselves in the last month.  
  Each day my day begins with the mail sitting on my desk.  Usually the stack consists of magazines, announcements and catalogues of resources.  Today there was a hand addressed envelope in the pile, always a pleasant surprise.  Curious I looked at the return address and did not recognize it.   Taking the letter opener from my drawer, I carefully opened it.  Inside was a lovely card with a personal message inscribed on the inside.  It was from a family whose mother died recently.  I was the one who presided at the funeral. They wanted to say thank you. Over the years I have been blessed with cards of appreciation.   I save them and when I wonder about why I do what I do, I pull them out and read them. Those words pull me out the "necessary" pit of work and remind me of what I love about my job.  People tell me the stories of their lives and allow me to walk with them through some of their most difficult times. It is an honour and  a privilege.
    In these days of busyness, we often forget to say thank you.  It takes such a little effort and makes such a big difference.  I am reminded again I need up my  daily "thank yous" to the people with whom I live and work.  Oh, by the way,  thank you for reading this blog!