Mom

   Mothers are formative people in our lives.  If we are lucky, they are kind and good. They teach us what we need to know so that we can go out into the world and thrive.  They send us with the ability to cook a meal, clean a bathroom, negotiate with difficult people, cuddle our children and be our best selves.  We know with a deep seated certainty that they are in our corner, rooting for us.  Knowing that there is at least one person who loves us for who we are, runny nose and all helps us face whatever comes our way.
   My mother was one of those mothers.  She died about eighteen months ago.  She was ready and it was time.  Yesterday was her birthday.  She would have been seventy-eight.  I miss her.  I suspect that I always will.  I hope her lessons live on in me.  I have tried to pass them on to my children and perhaps they will pass them on their children, that way her grace and love continue to make a difference in the world.
   Thank you 'Neal for your love and support which launched me and supported me always.


  

Cut the damn fabric

  Among other things that I do in my life, I play with fabric.  The colors and textures intrigue me.  The designs fascinate me.  One of my greatest pleasures is to have time enough to create something out the gorgeous pieces of fabric that line my studio walls.
   However part of the process is the planning.  The decision about what pattern and fabrics to use can move me into a state of paralysis.  There are times when I simply shuffle pieces of fabric from the shelves to the table and back again.  The choices overwhelm me because the possibilities are endless.  It so much easier when someone gives me parameters.  Unfortunately, I am usually left to my own devices to wander aimlessly around the room.  At that point I often call my baby sister, who is also a fabric person.  She listens patiently for a little while making few suggestions along the way as I babble.  Finally, she has enough and says simply, "Just cut the damn fabric."
    "Just cut the damn fabric,"  gets to the heart of the matter.  After deciding a book will be written now, I have spent the day flinging words on a page, quite uncertain of which idea is worthy of my commitment.  The time has come to cut the damn fabric, or just pick a story line and start writing.  I wonder why that initial commitment is so hard.  Really what I have got to lose?  A quilt that looks a little funny, or a story that doesn't make sense is all that is at stake.  It isn't like the world will end if that green and orange didn't go together the way I thought it would or the hero of my romance novel turns out to be a jerk.  Just type the damn book! And so I shall....tomorrow.

Stories and laughter

Great story tellers are dying breed.  They used to be the mainstay of society.  As they held people spellbound with the images they created, people remembered their roots. The stories told of traditions held dear, of battles won and lost, and explained the origins of the Universe.  The storyteller was historian, teacher and entertainer all in one.
  A good story told well has the power to move us in ways that even books cannot.  Today I spent the afternoon listening to one of Canada's great storytellers, Stuart McLean.  For many of you that name won't mean anything.  However, if you are interested you can google CBC radio and listen to podcasts of The Vinyl Cafe.  Stuart McLean takes the ordinary situations of life and looks at them humour.  An afternoon of laughing is good for the soul.
    More important to me even than the laughter was listening to how he strung the words together.  Listening for a turn of phrase, noticing the pacing taught me something about how to engage people in the story.  Everyone in the place was fully present and everything outside of the theatre disappeared for those three hours.  What a gift to be able to give, to be able to gather people in and take them on journey outside of themselves.  Even better when the laughter bubbles up and cannot be contained.  It refreshes the spirit.  It beats a nap!
    To the storytellers of our age, particularly Stuart McLean, thank you for telling us stories.  Thank you  for taking us to places only you could image and sharing them with us.  Our lives are richer for the stories you tell!

Accountablitity

 There are people in the world who thrive on routine.  There are others who possess a strong will which sees them through the rough spots on the way to their goal.  There are people like that in the world.  I am not one of them.  I am wimp.  Left to my own devices I will fritter away the day with inconsequential and meaningless activities.  I watch reality TV when my domestic goddess duties beckon.  I read a trashy romance novel when I could be writing one myself.  I run errands that aren't necessary.  On occasion, I nap.
    What I need in order to achieve what I want to do, is accountability.  Someone needs to know what I have planned. If follow through flags I know somebody else knows about my distrability. Funny how when someone else is depending on me or expecting something of me, I stand up straighter, work harder and suddenly get very productive.  When I first came to this realization I thought of it as a character flaw.  Now I choose to look at it as a simple reality. 
     Since I have decided that the first draft of my first novel will be written in the season of Lent, I thought it would be a good idea to put some accountability structures in place.  After all six weeks isn't a long time.  Today I recruited one of my sisters and one of my best friends into my ambitious scheme.  See how I cleverly reinforced the accountability structure?   They will receive daily pages.  The genius part of this system is I do not want to deal with them if they don't receive that email.  Lovely women both. Both have my number and aren't afraid  to use it. 
   It may seem a complicated way to achieve a goal.  But I think for me it has potential.  Once I know I can write a book, the next one won't need the daily readers.  The fear that tickles my brain and says I will never be able to do it will be gone.  I will have done it. I can't wait to see what story unfolds. 
    By April 8th, a first draft will be complete.  Notice how you too got involved in the whole accountability system?

Quiet

The quiet swirled around me today.  It cradled me as  I moved through the day.  After a long week filled with conversation, the silence was welcome. The space to breathe, to think, to simply be present nourishes me and restores my balance.  A cup of the tea sipped by the fire while the snow drifted down, allowed space for inspiration to seep in and take root.  As the laundry was folded and put away, the dishwasher was emptied and the floor mopped the ordinariness of the tasks grounded me.  All in all, a good day.  I am ready to meet the world again tomorrow.

Spiritual practice

  2012 began with choosing a word to help shape the months to come.  I chose commitment.  Not being known for my ability to stick with personal projects through the long haul, I wasn't sure how this was going to work out for me.  It was a distinct possibility that my energy would flag about three days into the experiment.
   To my wonder, awe and amazement I realized that I have indeed managed to make some changes.  Thanks to the persistent encouragement from one sister in particular, I have posted every day except one since I began this blog.  The day I missed was due to a technological glitch.  Much to my surprise people are reading what I write, which also provides motivation to continue.
   My faith roots are Christian and in that tradition we have entered the season of Lent, a time of reflection about one's spiritual life.  Often people give up things for Lent; chocolate, fast food etc. I am not sure what spiritual value there is in giving up chocolate.  For me it is an essential for my well-being.  Giving up fast food is indeed a healthy choice, but once again the spiritual value is somewhat hazy.  Instead of giving up things, I prefer to adopt a spiritual practice for the six weeks of Lent.  Over the years my practices have included; baking bread once a week and giving it away, meditation, walking, and reading a daily devotional.
    This year in the spirit of commitment I have decided to write a book as my spiritual practice.  It sounds silly as I write it down. But that is what I have decided to do.  I realize that writing feeds my spirit and nourishes my connection to the Creator, so write I will.  It would be nice if it turned out to be a bestseller or at least be published.  If no one ever reads it, so be it.  The point is to engage in the practice.
   My computer is ready.  My desk is cleared.  My commitment is intact.  Now I just have to decide what the book will be about!

The final journey

   He was a farmer and salesman. He raised five children and loved one woman for almost fifty-seven years.  His mind has wandered off to places where loved ones cannot follow.  He lives alone now in a small room the color of sunshine.  On the walls hang the pictures of the pieces of his life. His days are filled with waiting for three o'clock to arrive when his beloved wife arrives.  She sits by his side for several hours holding his hand. Sometimes they sit in silence, other times she tells them stories of their lives.  When supper time comes she gently feeds him food that someone else prepared.  She kisses him good night and promises to return tomorrow.
   Last week she received the news that his kidneys are failing and medical science has no help for them.  He is making his way slowly from this life to the next.  She is sad but is resigned because the pain of watching him disappear before eyes is hard to bear.  It would be more merciful for him to go quickly, painlessly into the new life that awaits him.  But she sits day after day, treasuring the moments left knowing that too soon and not soon enough for him, he will be gone.
   Love calls us into unexpected places.

Calming the Mind Chatter

      The time for sleep has come.  However, my mind is still buzzing.  After twelve hours of juggling appointments, writing, fielding phone calls and trying to make a prioritized to do list,  my brain is barreling full steam ahead.   It can be hard to turn off the monkey brain and shift into "at home" mode.  A hot bath and a cup of tea help.  My newest addition to the tea collection, Moonlight Lavender, is at least providing a lovely aroma for the mind chatter.  I have put on some relaxing music.  Mediation is often a helpful calming tool, but I think I am too far gone tonight.  Maybe reading my trashy novel might work. On second thought probably not, since it is a murder mystery.  I guess that means the next episode of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" on Netflix is not a good choice either.  Perhaps just  few minutes of deep breathing will do the trick.
   Everyone has routines they use to help them transition from one situation to the next.  They become so ingrained we often don't think about the morning cup of coffee on the way to work or the five o'clock news we listen to on the radio as we drive home.  Those rituals are important.  They ground us and center us.  They remind us where we are in the day.  We treasure them because we would miss them if they were gone. If they are left out of our day, then as my mother used to say, "Everything goes to hell in handbasket."
     Today my transition rituals need a boost.  I think I will try a spritz of my favorite perfume.  I can't wear it work because of other people's sensitivities, so I wear it to sleep.  It makes me smile even when I am dreaming.  Anne Lamott's  Plan B which is sitting on my bedside table might do the trick.  A good laugh and wonderful writing can't help but redirect the energy.   If none of those work, oh well, bring out the handbaskets!
    

Daily commitment

Writing is becoming like breathing to me.  As I venture into the commitment of writing being part of my daily routine, I am learning that something I feared is the way to new life.  If I am truthful, I have always been a writer.  It started as soon as I learned how to form letters into words.  Spelling has been an issue from the beginning, but it never stopped the flow of thoughts to paper.  Bits of papers, scraps of notes, snippets of stories long forgotten surfaced in the boxes from my mother's house.  The words written in a childish hand reminded me of how much I loved to write.
   Over the years as education accumulated, writing was reduced to papers and exams.  As children arrived the writing task became more utilitarian as lists for groceries and errands littered the kitchen counter.  Somewhere in the hustle and bustle of the every day business of life, the writing got pushed to the side. Writing became a chore not a pleasure because at the end of the day it was one more thing to do and the energy and enthusiasm for it were gone. The stories stayed inside my head, and after while they started to fade.  The characters, tired of being ignored, trundled off to other places.  I missed them, only I didn't realize it for quite awhile.
    Only recently have they started to return.  Now, because I have committed myself to writing daily the stories are starting to return with a cast of characters to entertain and amuse me.  Due to technical difficulties this weekend, I missed a day of posting.  Instead of getting out my trusty journal and pen, I went to sleep secretly relieved of the responsibility of writing. The next day did not unfold well.  As I look back, I think it is in some part related to not putting pen to paper or fingers to keys.  A lesson learned, writing is a daily joy and necessary to my well-being.  Hmmm.....
    Thanks for reading these posts and being part of the joy.

Changing jobs?

Meaningful work supports us and sustains us, not only financially but emotionally and spiritually. Sometimes what once brought joy and inspiration now brings fatigue and boredom.  It takes a discerning heart to know when it is time to move on to other ventures.  Letting go can be difficult.  The familiar calls us to the comfort zone of our being.  The new is unknown and uncertain.  Can we trust ourselves to navigate the strange landscape, to learn a different way of living, and make wise decisions for no only ourselves but our families?  We hope that our wisdom that comes from experience kicks in and the way before us becomes clear.

One step and breath at a time. With our heart in our throats we begin to explore possibilities. We make tentative inquiries about new jobs.  We start checking out how our skills might translate into another field.  It takes nerve.  It takes trust.  It takes all that we have in us. 

May we each have the courage to know when and how to explore the next piece of our journey!

Breathing Space

Finding breathing space in these busy days is an art form.  You need to be able foresee the possibility of an unscheduled moment, or be able to pounce on it should it suddenly appear due to cancellations or rescheduling.  It takes a bit of practice not to let the moment slip by or fill it with another task from the tyrannical to do list.  Awareness and a commitment to self care are the key ingredients to seizing the moment to simply breathe.

Those minutes, or if we are lucky hours or  even a day can renew our spirits and provide the extra boost we need to continue in the busyness of daily living.  Without those spaces our spirits start to wither, our body starts to rebel and our relationships begin to suffer.  The simple remedy is to have breathing spaces where you can be still and listen.  Listen to your breath. Listen to your heart song. Listen to the breeze whisper your name as it rustles through the trees.  Listen to the silence as the snowflakes fall.  Listen.  Listen and breathe.  Then when your breath is even and your soul is a tad bit more calm, pick yourself up and head back to into the gift that is your life.

Ordinary surprises

   On my way home for lunch today, I made a detour.  Having been in this city only a year, there are still places to explore, new routes to work to discover and hidden gems to stumble across. Instead of heading directly home I decided to investigate a park several people had mentioned.  I followed the signs past my turnoff out into the countryside.  Soon a green sign appeared marking the turnoff.  As I drove in, it looked as though I was driving into a cow pasture.  It certainly didn't look interesting, just barren.  As I went a little further I noticed the road dipped down and continued out of sight.  Feeling brave and up for and adventure, I continued driving.  Suddenly instead of flat prairie I was in the hills of the coulees winding my way down to who knows where.  The sun cast shadows on the frozen brown banks which stretched high up to the sky.  Remnants of snow on the road made paying attention essential.  Further and further down I drove not quite sure what was waiting for me at the end of the road.  As suddenly as the coulee hills had sprung up, they disappeared and I found myself in a small turnaround at the edge of the river.  It took my breath away.  Pieces of ice, like large sparkly diamonds floated slowly downstream on top of the deep blue water.  No rushing, just lazily moving all together towards some unknown destination.  The ice was not alone, but was accompanied by hundreds of Canada geese who were letting the current take them to wherever the ice was going.  Some elected to sit on the shore and watch, others joined their companions in the flotilla.  I was struck by the beauty and the serenity of it all.  All were content and peaceful.  As I sat and soaked in the scene before me, the peace and contentment enveloped me as well.

After time, I turned the car around and began the trip back up to lunch and daily work renewed in spirit for what lay ahead.

Blessed be

Blessed be all that has been and all that is to come,
           all that has shaped us and formed us.
Blessed be the light that surrounds us
          and illumines our path.
 Blessed be the angels disguised as friends
            who encourage us to persevere.
 Blessed be the days of our lives
             which collect to make a meaningful whole.
Blessed be the journey and the rest.
            

Valentine's Day

"Happy Valentine's Day" is the refrain across North America today.  The florists do a booming business.  Hallmark card sales skyrocket,  Chocolate is consumed by the pound.  People proclaimed their for each other in creative and imaginative ways.  Romance is in the air!
  Valentine's Day is also a minefield.  Someone forgets and the beloved is disappointed. Those who are single feel marginalized and often find solace in a gallon of gourmet ice cream.  Over the years I have experienced wonderful Valentine Days and heartbreaking ones.  I have had a boyfriend or husband and I have been single.  This year I am single and I didn't feel like resorting to the ice cream solution.
   I have learned to spoil myself.  Several years ago, when I did have a significant other I decided a few days before Valentine's to buy myself a dozen beautiful pink roses.  With great delight, I took them home and placed them in a lovely cut glass vase in the center of the dining room table.  Said boyfriend, who lived far away in another country, happened to be in town on February 14.  He walked in, empty handed, and noticed the flowers.  His face twisted into a confused look and trying to hide it, he asked who gave me the roses.  I replied I had bought them for myself.  The next look was priceless.  He couldn't quite grasp the idea.  Occasionally during the evening, I could see him looking at the fragrant flowers with a puzzled look.  I don't think it ever made sense to him.
   My Valentine's tradition now, whether a male is around or not, is to do something loving and special for myself.  I can count on me and then if someone else contributes to the festivities it is a bonus.  Today,  I tidied up, put clean sheets on the bed, took a bubble bath and read a good book.  It was a lovely time.  As I wandered through the grocery store watching the men line up at the floral counter, I simply smiled and was happy that their wives/girlfriends were getting flowers.  The best part of the shopping event was seeing an elderly couple holding hands as they tried to decide what kind of chocolate they wanted to take home.
    Valentine's Day is so much easier when I take it into my own hands!  It takes the pressure off and I can actually enjoy the whole cheesy event.  Oh, I forgot to mention I did get chocolate as well!  On days like these, I start to think I might be on my way to learning to growing up.

Humility again!

  Just when life seems comfortable and I become self satisfied, the Universe decides it is time for another lesson. It happens on a regular basis, so you would think I would learn the lesson of humility.  Evidently, I am a slow learner.   Extra tutoring is needed.  Today class was back in session. 

It began innocently enough as I went off to visit someone this morning.  I have been working with this woman for about six months.  She challenges me, stretches me and doesn't for one minute let me be comfortable in my skin.  It drives me crazy.  It also keeps me on my toes.  Today when I expressed discomfort about doing a piece of work for her, she began to tell me what I needed to be an effective advocate for anyone.  My hackles went up.  How dare she tell me what to do, or how to do it, simply because we didn't agree.  I know what I am doing.  I have been doing it for twenty-five years.  My stubbornness kicked in.  No way, no how, was she going to change my mind after that tirade.  I did remain polite but firm as I declined again her invitation to do something for her.

Later in the afternoon she appeared in my office to make an appointment to come talk to me about my decision.  I pointed out that I had given her my reasons.  Five more minutes were all I was prepared to give to the discussion.  We will see how that goes later in the week when she comes in.

After I had a chance to reflect about what happened, I realized I had been defensive.  While my decision I believe is the right one for me in this situation, what can I learn from the whole experience?  Can I open myself to learn from this woman?  Can I put aside my ego and hear the wisdom which may be present?  Can I allow myself to be changed for the better by this encounter?  I hope so.  The other option is to be frustrated and annoyed through most of this relationship, which will not be helpful for either of us. 

Ego is strong.  It protects us but it can get in the way.  The Universe is a gracious teacher and continues to provide opportunities to learn about letting go of ego and accepting gifts from other people.  I pray for the strength and grace to be able to do that.  Remedial work is no fun!

 

10 things worth knowing

 Over the years I have thought about what it is I have learned through the ups and downs of my life.  I have pondered what wisdom would be helpful for my children to know so their life might be a bit easier.   So I sat down and made a list.  I am an oldest child and lists are important to me, even though I may never look at them after they are created. 

Here is the list, or at least the first draft.  I am open to suggestions about else might be included!

1.  Be kind.
2.  Someone else's good fortune takes nothing away from you.  Celebrate with them.
3.  Laugh every day.
4.  Remember to say 'Thank you".
5.  Be kind to yourself.
6.  Nourish your spirituality.
7.  Do something every day that takes you out of your comfort zone.
8.  Eat well and get enough sleep.
9.  Cherish the people you love.
10.  Try and leave the world a better place than you found it.

Gratitude

For the day that has unfolded
  with grace,
and has been sprinkled with peace.
    yielded deeper friendships,
      meaningful conversations,
         and a good portion of laughter;
thank you.

For the evening which has slipped quietly
  upon me,
bringing rest
   starlight
      and moonlight to bless;
thank you.

Coyote night

 The wail of the coyotes is in the air tonight. Even with the windows closed and the soft whirr of the furnace their plaintive voices carry on the wind.  I know they are predators and small farm animals and domestic pets are not safe from their hunger.  Yet I love the sound of them.  Some nights they sing. Some nights they are talking.  Always they touch the wild places in my soul;  places that are free from the "must do's" and the "should do's".  They call to me to run without thought headlong into joy. They call my inner child to moonlight dancing, or to at least contemplate the idea.  The coyote voices speak of mystery dark and deep which promises freedom and new birth.
  The coyotes are out tonight and I off to the wild places.

The Last Straw or The Last Mouse

Several years ago, unbeknowst to us, mice invaded our garage.  Thanks to a gap at the bottom of the garage door, the mice had easy access to a nice warm winter resort complete with birdseed.  After doing what mice do so well, reproducing, we finally noticed their presence.  A phone call was made to the exterminator.  Unfortunately, our city must have been experiencing a mouse infestation of gigantic proportions because the next appointment was ten days away.
   A lot can happen in ten days.  Mice can chew through the dry wall in the garage and get into the house.  Mice can get in the heating ducts and make scratchy sounds all night.  They can also torment cats and small terriers who chase them until they stand still and then the larger animals leave them alone because they don't know what to do next.
  We were well and truly under attack by the rodent population before the exterminators arrived.  We coped.  My daughter and I would scream and jump onto the nearest piece of furniture when we saw one scurrying across the floor. My son would stick his head out of his bedroom door and ask why we making such a racket.  We would reply that we had seen a mouse and could he please come deal with said frightening creature.  "Hell no" would come the reply followed by a door slam.  This routine became more and more frequent as the days passed.
   Early one evening I decided to do laundry and sent out the call for dirty laundry to be deposited on the floor in front of the washing machine.  It took a while for the laundry to be collected and for me to remember what I was supposed to be doing.  Several hours later I began loading the sorted piles into the machine.  Just as I was getting ready to pour the detergent in, I noticed something odd.   There was a small grey face looking up at me from the clothes.  It had whiskers and small pink ears.  It was indeed a mouse.  This time I did not scream.  I started to cry. 
  I know how to deal with many things in life, including home repairs.  But I had no idea what to do about a mouse in a washing machine.  It was the last straw in a long day.  I stood looking at that creature for ten minutes while tears rolled down my face.  The children checked in on me to see why I was crying.  However they were teenage wimps, not up to the challenge of mouse retrieval. 
    I debated washing the mouse, but discarded that idea quickly.  Wet dead mouse was even less appealing than a live dry mouse. The only sensible thing to do, I thought as I snuffled, was to get it out alive and release it over the back fence into the wild.  It took some doing, a ice cream pail with a lid, and some blue air, but I got it done. 
   The laundry came out clean and fresh with no signs of mouse anywhere.  The exterminators came the next day and rid us of the pesky creatures.  They were never seen again.  Far removed from the adventure, it strikes me as extremely funny.  Distance and time help heal the pain.  To this day when I encounter one of those "last straws" I remember the stupid mouse.  It puts things in perspective.

Tea, Tarot and Jesus

There is a wonderful tea room around the corner from where I work.  Every couple of weeks,  a friend and colleague of mine and I meet for afternoon tea and treats.  Each of us own a least one set of oracle cards.  His favourite is a Mother Peace tarot set.  My favorite is a Faery Card deck.
   Today as we sipped Moonlight Lavender tea and nibbled on pink iced chocolate cupcakes we decided to do a  tarot reading.  He just happened to have his tarot deck in his briefcase.  We began shuffling, drawing and laying our our cards on the lovely white lace tablecloth.  As each card was drawn my friend would read the description.  It is important to note, that we were being very discreet and quiet about what we were doing.  We didn't want to disturb other patrons who might not share our love of cards.  Also, we both happen to be mainline Protestant ministers who work in smaller size city.  Our parishioners might not understand the whole concept!   Though I laughingly suggested that maybe the owner would let us do tarot readings for folks a couple of afternoons a week, just to supplement our income. Tarot and tea rooms seem to go together.
   As we continued the reading I noticed a young couple with an infant on the other side of the room.  We couldn't hear their conversation, nor could they hear ours.  We were almost finished when the mother gathered up the baby to leave.  She left and the husband came over to our table.  We both thought that he was coming to ask us to do a reading or be inquisitive about it.  However, he said he had felt moved to share a word with us.  He quoted from the Gospel of John the passage about Jesus being the Way, the Truth, the Life.  He wanted us to know that Jesus was our hope and our way to life. We smiled and said thank you to the young man who was earnestly concerned about our spiritual well being. We did not mention what we do for a living.  The young man would have been embarrassed and really we don't need the news story of two ministers reading tarot cards at the local tea room story appearing the local paper.  It might be bad for business, or maybe not.  It might be just the thing we need to get us going in the right direction!
    From the young man's comment, it was evident, Jesus doesn't like tarot.  Though I myself would argue that.  I think God/Universe/ Spirit/ The Holy One or whatever you want to call a Higher Being chooses to speak in a variety of ways.  I would like to think Jesus would have enjoyed the tea, company and cards.  I think he would especially enjoyed the cupcakes!

Quickening Moon

   The moon is hanging full in the sky tonight.  Each full moon has a particular name. This month it is known as the Quickening Moon.  Its rising is understood to mark the beginning of Spring, a time when new life quickens in us.  This night is a night for focusing on our hopes and dreams.  We focus on those things that are being born in us.
    Each full moon I set my intention for the month.  For February the intentions center around several projects I am trying to get off the ground. I write them down and place the paper in a special bowl on my altar.  Sometimes I stand in front of the altar, light a candle and say a prayer. Often I will go outside and stand in the moonlight and pray.  There is something quite soothing about a moonlight bath. (I am not skyclad, but in my jammies.  Otherwise, it might be too much for the neighbors!)
   The cycle of the moon provides a rhythm to my life.  Each time I see it, I am filled with wonder, awe and a sense of mystery.  It makes me stop, think, reflect and enjoy.  What a marvelous gift of the Universe!
     May the blessings of this full moon nourish your dreams and feed your soul!

Spin Class

   I was spinning today.  My spinning has nothing to do with a spinning wheel or an exercise class.  My spinning is more like the dog chasing it's tail.  Spinning is what I do when too many ideas float around in my head or there is too much paperwork sitting on my desk.  Sometimes I spin when I become afraid, though that is happening less often these days. 
   Today's root cause was too many things to do, not enough time in which to do them, and having absolutely no idea of which task should be tackled first.  I have learned two important lessons about my spin cycle, which unlike my washing machine does not have a set time limit.  I have learned that if I don't stop, sit down and breath, it will only get worse.  Breaking the cycle is imperative.  So this morning I sat at my desk, lit my candle and simply stared at the flame and breathed.  It sounds so incredibly simple, but it works for me.  If I can keep my terrier brain distracted for at least ten minutes, I have a fighting chance of being able to manage the "to do" list.
   The second piece of wisdom I have discovered is to take one concrete action to resolve the most pressing issue in the pile of stuff.  One step is all it takes to redirect the spinning energy into a positive direction.  It is a shame to let all that energy go to waste.  Focus and direction are the name of the game.  Having breathed deeply for a few minutes, I picked up the phone and began to sort out the confusion of double booking two events.  While the booking problem has not been resolved yet, I made a start.
  Over the years, the spinning has become less and less.  The onset is recognisable and I can catch it before it has me dizzy.   Often in the past hormones have been the precipitating factor and now as they settle down it helps the spinning.  Also, I like to think I have become wiser and less flustered by life.  My goal is to someday only deal with the spin cycle on laundry day as the clothes get wrung out.  In the meantime,  breathing and action it is!

The Land of Opposites

Valuable life lessons crop up in the strangest places.  Who knew Seinfeld,  a show about nothing, would provide such important guidance in my quest to grow up?  Thanks to the George Costanza Opposite Day theory, life is unfolding in unexpected ways.  This principle of doing the opposite of what you would normally do, goes hand in hand with the old saying, "If you always do what you always did, you will always get what you always got."  In essence, unless you do something differently the status quo remains in effect.
   My friend and I are working hard at changing patterns that have not served us well.  We are experimenting with creating our lives the way we want for them to be instead of simply letting them happen. We are taking responsibility for our choices and our decisions.  We are choosing not respond in the time honoured habits of bygone years.  At this point,  George Costanza rides to the rescue.  Finding himself in a similar position where every instinct he has brings disastrous results, he decides to do the opposite of what he would normally do.  The results are striking.  The same is true for the two of us.  Doing the opposite has yielded a deeper understanding of ourselves. It has allowed us to let go of baggage and outdated conceptions about relationships.  It has opened up a world of possibilities to explore as we grow into who we really are.  It isn't always easy to say yes when our normal reaction would be no, to go out into the world instead of staying curled up on the couch with a book.  It isn't easy but it is worth the effort.  Each of us in our own way is discovering an authentic life which brings out the best in us.
    Give Opposite Day a try and see what you think!  Go George!
  

Courage in a Wedding Dress

Courage comes dressed differently each day.  Today it came dressed in wedding attire. While I suppose there is debate about whether marriage is a courageous act, today it certainly was.  Most people don't have a clue when they get married what the years ahead of them will bring their way.  The two today know.  She has Stage Four liver cancer.  Their time is measured in months not years.  They are squeezing every moment of joy and life into the remaining time.  As they stood at the front offering to each other the vows they had written, there wasn't a dry eye to be seen.  The love that radiated from them had a deep rich glow which is born of knowledge and hope. It was clear this love has been tested and tempered by the reality of life and was only made stronger in the testing.  For those gathered there, it was a sacred, holy moment as we were included in the circle of that courageous love.  We were deeply moved and touched by their ability to affirm love in the face of death and hope when most others would have chosen despair.
   Today courage was dressed in wedding attire.  Tomorrow it may be dressed in a hospital gown.  We never know where it will show up or where it's face will appear.  However when courage wanders through, we are all empowered and inspired by its presence.
     May light and love enfold those who today took the courageous step to love in spite of the difficult journey ahead.  May your love give you strength and hold you always.

The Hardest Thing

If you have been born, you have a story to tell.  If you have lived to be middle aged, you have lots of stories.  Some of the stories are of victory and celebration.  Others tell of survival and tenacity.  Others fall somewhere in between.  Stuck in the layers of the tales are those that we don't want to remember, the hard pieces that have called us to the edge.  Sometimes they have broken us.   They are the hardest pieces.  Unfortunately, those are often the places where extraordinary growth takes place.  By the way, I am tired of growing.
  There have been hard pieces over the years.  They are distinctly mine.  More often than not they involve another human being and their actions.  Forgiveness comes into play.  Boundaries get redefined and strengthened.  Wisdom around human relationships deepens.  After all that work and growth, I have now hit the hardest pieces in myself.  For years these pieces have been hidden as others around me behave badly or life simply happens.  But now, it is just me and those stubborn bits that have refused to move.  Everyone has different ones.  Mine has to do primarily with weight and all that is tied to it. 
    Finally, today I have had enough.  It has taken years, but here I am looking at what seems the hardest most insurmountable piece yet and I have decided it must be dealt with now.  It must be examined, thanked, and banished.  Even though it looks like this piece might be the one that breaks me, I know in my bones that it won't.  It will be tricky to navigate and require all the skills I have acquired over the years.  The difference this time is that I care enough about myself to do what is in my best interest.  Gone are the days of putting myself last or believing that there is something fundamentally wrong with me.  I am just fine, a little flawed and frayed around the edges like everyone else on the planet, but just fine.
     This step of the journey begins to unfold because I am coming back to my word for the year: commitment.  Barely two months into 2012 and that word is taking me off in directions I could scarcely imagine when I so innocently picked it at the end of December.  So here I go, heading off to tackle the hardest piece.  I hope with all my being there are some rest stops on the way!  Growing up is hard work.

Living with respect

   This evening as my son and I were returning to our car after running some errands we encountered a young man. He was asking for some change so he could find a room for the night.  Neither of us had any to offer him and sent him on to the next person.  Once in the car, we began to talk about what each of us do when asked for change on the street.  If I have it I give it.  If I don't have it to offer then it is a moot issue, but I feel guilty.  My root faith tradition is Christian. Whenever I deal with folks asking for money I hear the words from Matthew's Gospel; "Whenever you did it to the least of these, you did it to me."  It causes an internal struggle every time.
   My son said that he doesn't give anything to people in parking lots, but will quite often give change to the folks he encounters on his way to University.  He told me the story about giving some money to a homeless man who has a regular spot on one of the street corners.  One day when asked my son gave the man some money.  The man took the money and went a bought a lottery ticket.  The ticket won a thousand dollars.  The next time my son saw the man, he offered to buy my son lunch. They shared a meal at McDonald's. 
    I love that story.  The image of the two of them sharing a meal of Big Mac and fries warms my heart.  It makes the world look differently today.  It makes it feel like a better place to live.  Thank goodness for children who continue to teach us daily about living respectfully with one another.

Imbolc

Today is the Celtic celebration of Imbolc,  a fire festival which marks the beginning of Spring's return. The earth begins to awaken from the frozen time of winter opening herself to receive the seeds of new life and new birth. This day is also associated with Brigid, the goddess of the hearth and poetry(creativity).  People across the globe are celebrating today either with friends or on their own.
    This day calls me to look at what is awakening in my life.  There are pieces which have been left frozen and unused for years.  The earth of my being is starting to thaw.  The ground of my soul is preparing to receive the seeds of new life.  I am becoming the gardener of my life in a way I have never been before.
     As the winter recedes and the spring begins to creep into my heart, I trust that Brigid will stand beside me.  Together we will tend to what is beginning to grow and take root.  I am blessed by her presence and give thanks for her continued watchfulness.