Dare boldly

a blog by Louise Gallagher


Making a Difference: Cyber-communities (Guest Blog)

I first met CZ almost nine years ago in an internet forum for survivors of abuse and encounters of the narcissistic and psychopathic kind. She was witty, wise, articulate and oh so real. Her generosity of spirit helped hundreds and hundreds of men and women heal from the wounds of battle in relationships of the not so very nice kind.

When MSN changed its forum template and CZ set off to explore the world of building her own sites. She knew how vital and important these sharing and caring spaces were for people coming out from under the web of deceit psychopaths and narcissists wove into their lives. She knew she needed to keep making a difference if people were to find healing and peace in the past.

Her efforts gave birth to her website:  The Narcissistic Continuum and several blogs including the Web of Narcissism (WON) Forum. Her efforts and generosity of spirit have also given birth to a friendship that I value and treasure, even though we’ve never met, in person. After 9 years of online sharing and emails, I know CZ is an amazing Woman of Worth. A real WOW!

Thank you CZ for sharing your brilliance here and thank you for all you to do make a difference in the world everyday. Your difference shines!


Making a Difference:  Cyber-communities  

by CZ

Feigning remorse he said, “Sorry to steal your best years by leaving when you’re old.” Feigning dignity I replied, “Don’t even kid yourself. You didn’t get my best years. You got my worst.”

It was a turning point for me, this brief exchange between two people who had married at nineteen…divorcing at fifty. I had been skydiving black holes for months, free falling into hopelessness. That is how it felt being disconnected from the comfort of a thirty-four year marriage, the reassurance of family ties, the grace of worth transferred, even in the pretense of love.

In case I didn’t hear him the first time, he repeated, “Stealing…best years…you’re old,” and I don’t know what happened to me! I don’t. Something deep inside myself refused to believe his words. Something inside myself said, “You are a daughter of God!” I know this sounds dramatic, even romantic; yet to me, it was divine intervention. A grounding realization that no one is replaceable, not even a housewife. No one is worthless, not even an unemployed, replaced housewife. My life had value and meaning, perhaps even more so with age. This sure knowledge affirmed that each of us has a purpose to serve in the web of life. And our service to others needn’t be spectacular or newsworthy. In fact, anonymity might serve me well.

My soon-to-be-x-husband left for his self-determined future, fame and fortune sure to be his claim. Instead of focusing on him, I focused on me, connecting the repetitive themes of my life from one maturing decade to another. I hadn’t placed much value on my traditional skills, my community-building-and-serving-others skills. I didn’t even think of my self as having skills. Building intimate relationships is what I learned as a girl. Ho-hum, who cares, don’t all women do that? I had matured into a woman with an open door for teen-agers in need of a surrogate mom (just as goodly women provided for my rebel teens); a woman with casseroles and jell-o, cushy armchairs and china teacups, less worried about my hair than community welfare.

An older woman with an eye out for people in trouble, people in need. A woman who listened. A woman who cared. I had done my preparatory work creating a meaningful, connected life. It was time to put my skills to greater use organizing a healing community. I needed a website, a living room, and a keyboard.

Each morning (I won’t add “at the crack of dawn” because sometimes I get up at the “crack of noon”), I log in to the Web of Narcissism and connect with people who are suffering, people who have lost everything including self-respect. They feel broken and powerless, humiliated and vulnerable. But I know they are stronger than they feel, more valuable than they realize, more worthy than they believe.

I trust in the power of human connections to heal our wounds simply by listening and talking with one another. Chit-chatting. Tete-a-tete-ing. Being honest about our lives. Keeping it real. So, I serve cyber-tea in china cups in lovely chintz-covered cyber-living rooms and wait for the healing to begin—a most natural process, indeed.

Shhhhhhh…listen. Do you hear the chattering of an Internet message board? If you do, look carefully. You are witnessing the mystery of lives unfolding. Their best is yet to be.


Celebrating the Heroes Among Us (2nd edition)

It is ‘Heroes Saturday’, the day on which we celebrate the heroes in our midst.

Yesterday, Trevor Boller wrote this on his FaceBook page about his wife, Tracey.

“My Hero this week is my wife Tracey Merrett She is goes weekly to Mustard Seed to assist with an art program there where inner city ppl come to express themselves in art. They have built up trust for her and she comes home energized on a Thurs night. Who has energy by Thurs, let alone 1030 at night? On the table was a bag this week of gluten free bread and some products. She was bringing this to a patron who shares he rarely eats because he can’t because of Celiac or something. I was so touched to see this bag on the table and was given to him last night. I used to think that everyone in Alberta could find food some place. I was educated! ♥”

He’s right. Tracey is a hero! And so is Trevor!

I’m coaching in the Givers 2 weekend of Choices, the life experience/personal development course I took six years ago that changed my life by letting me explore my limiting beliefs and giving me tools to live everyday with joy, passion and peace in my heart. It’s something I love to do, something that feeds my soul and brings great joy to my heart. The program couldn’t run without its volunteers. When the 90+ people walk into the room on Wednesday afternoon until they walk out Sunday evening there is one thing they absolutely can be assured of, they will be loved – even in those moments when they do not believe they are worthy — they will be loved. And, for the 30+ volunteer coaches who give of their time, talents and treasures, they know there is one thing they will do perfectly throughout the five days of seminar, Love the people when they walk through the doors, and keep on loving them. In that love and their giving spirits, miracles unfold. Husbands and wives let go of hurts and fall in love with each other all over again,  a man finds the will to live, a woman finds the courage to claim her dreams, families are reconnected, lives are reclaimed and spirits soar.

To everyone coaching in Choices this month (and all the other months too!), you are heroes.

I’ve never met Maureen Doallas in person, but, for the past 3 years I’ve been inspired and informed by her blog, Writing Without Paper. We’ve become ‘soul sistars’, exchanged emails, chatted on the phone and cemented a friendship I treasure. Everyday at Writing Without Paper, Maureen celebrates the ingenuity, creativity and excellence of humankind by posting interviews, essays, and links to other sites, and sometimes, she shares beautiful treasures of her own poetry. When her book of poetry, Neruda’s Memoir was published, I quickly ordered a copy and have been slowly devouring each delicate poem and intricate image she weaves with her words for the past year. Maureen makes a difference every day by graciously sharing her talents and teaching us about all that people are doing to create wonder and beauty and inspiration in our world. (and if you want some wonder and inspiration in your world today, go check out Maureen’s Saturday Sharing.  (My finds are yours) And do say hello! She’ll be happy to see you!

Maureen Doallas is a hero.

I have never met Grace Brown. I first heard of her through Maureen’s blog earlier this month. I wish I knew Grace. If I did, I’d give her a high-five, a happy dance, a hug, a huge Thank You! And I’d tell her how she has inspired me through the difference she is making for victims of rape and sexual assault. Grace is a college student and a photographer in New York and the creator of Project Unbreakable: The beginning of healing through art. Maureen writes on her blog, For Project Unbreakable, Brown, a college student, invites victims of rape or other forms of sexual violence and abuse to write a quote from their attacker on a large piece of poster board and to then be photographed holding up the quote. Yvonne Moss, a rape survivor and advocate for sexual abuse victims and one of the women Brown has photographed, states on Brown’s site that the project is “a way for victims to take the power back of the words that were once used against them.”

Grace Brown created this short video to highlight the importance and relevance and healing power of Project Unbreakable. Please share it.

Grace Brown is a hero.

We all need heroes. Who are yours? Take some time today, and everyday, to celebrate those who inspire, move and motivate you to make a world of difference. And let me know who they are. I’d love to share the story of your heroes here!

The world needs heroes. Let’s all be one. Let’s all celebrate the ones we know!



In giving, we are connected

There are days when I wonder — seriously Louise. Couldn’t you have just decided to write this blog for a month? What’s with the year-long public commitment?

Those are the days I have to dig deep to stay conscious, to stay connected, to stay open to the unexpected appearance of grace unfolding in full bloom in my life.

Yesterday, I received an email from a woman whom I knew when working at the shelter. Then I received a comment here from a man I’d known while working there too. In  their words my heart was touched by the grace of gratitude and humility and the capacity for the human spirit to soar free of what would keep it tethered to the bonds of pain and shame. I was touched by their beauty and their willingness to grow beyond the trauma of the label ‘homeless’ into the fullness of their human condition. (Thank you SA and NS).

It is the gift of reciprocity.

Everyday I experience life through my human condition in all its human imperfections.  And everyday I strive to connect to perfection. And in my ego’s drive to ‘be perfect’ I forget I am, perfectly perfect in all human imperfections — in all my beauty and the beast connotations, in all my id and ego gyrations, in all my yin and yang exhortations to be more, be better, be perfect.

Fact is, we are all perfect just the way we are. Loving our perfection, just the way we are, gives us the grace of loving our imperfections, just the way they are too.

And sometimes, we need others to help us see the difference between the striving to be perfect versus the acceptance of loving our human condition, jus the way we are. Sometimes, we need someone to remind us that our difference counts most when we touch each other, heart to heart.

Mother Teresa once said, “We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop.”

The difference I want to make, today and everyday, is to be like that drop in the ocean. To be connected in this sea of life through the Love that flows all around. To be the eyes that see what is missing. The words that touch hearts and open minds. The arms that embrace weary souls in tender loving care. The hands that hold out hope when all is deemed lost. The heart that breaks open in Love to love myself, just the way I am, just the way you are, just the way we all are.

Yesterday, I received gifts from those whose lives I’ve touched and who touched mine. In their words I let myself receive their gift of gratitude and in that circle of giving, my thankfulness ripples outward.

In giving we receive. In giving, we are connected. And in our connection we are all perfectly human in all our imperfections shining in Love.

This morning, I am grateful for making this blog a year-long process. In its unfolding my gratitude strengthens and my understanding deepens as I fall in love with who I am in this world when I let go of  ‘being perfect’  in exchange for joyfully living up our shared experience of  ‘being human’ in the rapture of now.




The difference when I stop, look and listen

I am standing by the Navel Orange bin, focused on picking just the right ones when I feel someone watching me. I look up and see a man, walking towards me, his eyes focused intently on my face. I recognize him as he approaches. Smile and give him a wave.

“I know you,” he says, the rubber stopper on the bottom of his multi-coloured metallic cane making a soft thump as he plants himself in beside me. “Why do I know you?”

I know him from the homeless shelter where I used to work.

In a public place like a grocery store, it’s not always caring of the other to tell them that.

“I was the spokesperson for the DI (the street name for the shelter where I used to work),” I tell him. “I was on television a lot. Maybe you recognize my face from there?”

He gives his head a quick shake from side to side. Then nods it up and down. “Yeah. That’s why I remember you. You were one of the nice ones.” He pauses, lifts his cane and thumps it on the ground. Not loudly. Just a gentle statement of fact to punctuate his words. “I didn’t like it there. Who could? Full of drunks and drug addicts. And the staff…”

He looks away.

“Glad I’m out of there now.” He finishes his statement and looks me in the eyes. “I’m gone you know.”

“So am I,” I tell him. “How are you doing?”

And he rushes into a story about an accident that broke his hip. A two month hospital stay. A landlord who ripped him off and a host of other sad events that have brought him down.

And  I listen. It is all I do. Listen. Deeply.

It is what he needs. Someone to listen to him. To give him space to give voice to his pain, his fears, his sorrow. And, his possibilities.

“I worked construction you know,” he tells me. “That’s over with now. But I can cook. Got a friend who’s got a friend who owns a restaurant that’s just opening up. Gonna go submit my resume. You could come visit if you want.” And he gives me the approximate location of the restaurant. “I can’t remember the name. But I’m sure you can’t miss it. It’s the pub right beside the gas station.”

I tell him that I’ll definitely drop by sometime over the next few weeks. Check if he got the job. See how he’s doing.

“What I really need is better housing,” he says. “Someplace where I’m not sharing space with others. I talked to Calgary Housing but their wait list is too long.”

“Have you spoken to the Homeless Foundation?” I ask.

“What’s that?”

And I explain about their housing programs and find a piece of paper and write down their number and pass it to him.

He’s excited. Another path to explore. Another possibility opening up.

And we part and I am grateful for our encounter. He has reminded me of the importance of seeing people. Of honouring the human being through creating space for story-telling to happen, of listening to the stories that are shared with an open mind and loving heart and a belief in the sacredness of the truths that are revealed when we take time to see and listen to the story-tellers.

Thank you John. You made a difference yesterday by giving me the gift of listening on purpose.


Doing the Hard

When I first met her she was a tiny urchin-like young girl  struggling to leave street life behind. Yesterday, when we met, I saw a graceful, caring young mother willing to ‘do the hard’ to make a difference in the world.

We were meeting at Six Degrees Music, Productions and Studios, an audio recording studio that had volunteered time, facilities and people to record a ‘story’ I’ve written about a young woman, Joanne Shaver, who was murdered at the age of 17 on January 9, 1990. The young mother was there to record the story. I was there as guide and mentor.

The story is part of, and My Name is…, a project that intends to honour street engaged youth and adults who have been murdered on our streets, while opening our hearts and minds to look at these lives and these stories with eyes of compassion.  and My Name is… will put a human face on the lives that were taken, give meaning to their passing, while opening up opportunities for healing and forgiveness and inspiring possibility in our communities, no matter what side of the street you’re on.

The young woman who recorded the story yesterday is Joanne’s sister. I met her years ago when I was writing and producing a collaborative play with a group of street-engaged youth. She was one of the participants. I’d run into her once since that time, in a grocery store where she worked. She’s come a long way.

And yesterday, just how far she’s journeyed was evident as she read the 3 minute piece I’d written.

Yesterday, the power of her story, the depth of her courage shone through the words she read. Written in the first-person, it was no small feat to read as if she was her older sister speaking.

She wanted to do this. She wanted to read this story. For her sister. For herself. Her family. For this project. She wants to make a difference.

And in her voice, in giving voice to her sister’s story, she made a difference. Those of us in the sound booth sat in awe, listening, taking in the story, being moved by the power of her voice and her sister’s short journey through life. She was incredible.

I am blessed to be part of this project. Blessed to be part of making a difference through telling the stories of those who never had a chance to tell their own story of their lives.

and My Name is… has already made a difference in the hearts and minds of those of us involved in the planning stages of creating it. It will be exciting to watch it unfold.

I’ll keep you posted.



Happy Valentines Mr X

Today is the day to celebrate the flight of Cupid’s Arrow piercing our hearts. A day when in ancient times, the mating of birds inspired acts of love in the hearts, not to mention the bodies, of men and women. A day when chocolate lover’s get free licence to overdose on their favourite vice and poets give free reign to their creative urgings to express their romantic inclinations for the one’s they love. Or, for the cynics in the crowd, it’s a day when florists and chocolatiers’ and jewellers and Hallmark shareholders rub their hands in glee as they celebrate the bounty that overflows with the commercialization of Valentine’s Day.

I like Valentine’s Day. I like the soppy and romantic. I even like 2-star rated romance flicks where the emotions are even more cloying than the syrupy dialogue impregnated with attestations of love and broken-hearted cries of ‘I’ll never speak to you again!’ I like the idea that February 14th is set aside as a day to acknowledge the one you love. If you’re prone to the excessive, today is a day to pay tribute to your beloved without reservation, without embarrassment or hesitation or even fear. Because, today is the day to express your love freely. And in your expression, love makes the biggest difference of all.

For the past 15+ years, I have received a Valentine’s Day Card from Mr. X. No matter where I’ve lived, he has always found my heart and I’m sure the heart of the other’s to whom he sends his beautifully crafted, albeit poetically deficient cards. In fact, other than the hearts and feathers and glitter that are sprinkled on the front of the card, the inside is subscribed with just a few words. “Happy Valentines Louise. Mr. X.”

Now, don’t tell Ron… I know he’s Mr. X. I have known it for years. He and his wife, Lynn, are two of the warmest, most caring and generous people I know. In the past, Mr. X. has walked down many a street with me, sat in many a coffee shop, not to mention on many a curbside, consoling me through various manifestations of ‘my true loves’ appearances and disappearances in my life. In fact, if I dig deep into my Memory Box, I probably still have the business card he once wrote those famous last words upon as a stopgap to tide me over another ‘love gone wrong’ saga of my escapades in the playing fields of amore — “I am officially so over _______________(fill in the blank)!”

He is witty. Funny. A real Renaissance Man, Mr X. knows lots about love and is quite willing to share his opinions — whether you want them or not!  :)  He’s pointed in his observations. Keen in his insight and, even when he’s sharing something I don’t want to hear, he is always loving.

On this day, while I share my love (and poetry) with C.C. my beloved, I must open my heart to the joy and beauty Mr. X. and his anonymous Valentine’s Day Cards have given me.

Thank you Mr. X. Your constancy, your generosity of spirit and Love, make a difference in my world.

This one’s for you…


Keeping My Commitments

It was a ‘no car/no spending’ day yesterday which, I momentarily forgot (about the no spending) when I went to order a book online. But!… the Universe never forgets.

When I went to get my wallet out of my purse, no wallet.

I searched. Everywhere. I even phoned my girlfriend with whom I’d gone to an art exhibit the evening before to see if it had accidentally dropped out in her car. I even phoned the coffee shop where I’d met with a friend Saturday morning. I even checked the roadway in front of our house thinking perhaps it had fallen out of my purse when I’d gotten out of my girlfriend’s car the night before.

No wallet.

Needless to say, I was getting rather concerned. The thought of cancelling cards, getting new id was daunting.

Before I started cancelling cards, I decided I’d better check my car, just in case. Throughout my search, I kept telling myself, it can’t be in the car because after Ellie’s walk I went for coffee and had it then.  Sure enough, there it was. It had fallen out of my bag onto the floor of the passenger seat when I’d come home earlier that day.

Making commitments is important. Keeping them even more important. Not for the universe — for me. Keeping my commitments means I am walking in my integrity, standing in my trust, being who I want to be in the world. And when I walk in integrity, I make a world of positive difference all around me. I’m not trying to hide, when I know I am living from a place of integrity. I’m not making excuses or telling myself stories about why it’s okay to have compromised on a commitment, or belief.

I almost broke my commitment yesterday, but a mistake saved me. The difference in that mistake is I had time to remember what spending money would do to my commitment. It meant, when I did find my wallet, I had time to take a breath and remember — ‘it’s a no car/no spending day’. While as one friend wrote that doing it one day a week doesn’t make that big a difference to the world, keeping the commitment makes a huge difference to me.

Walking with integrity, standing in trust, being trustworthy are all vital aspects of me being me in the world. Keeping my commitments to myself, and others, is the only way to hold onto being who I want to be in a world where all too often, opportunities to ‘act out’ beckon me to take a shortcut to happiness. There are no shortcuts to happiness. There is only the way of being my who I am meant to be when I keep my commitments. In that act, I walk tall. I walk with confidence knowing I am turning up for me — and not letting myself off the hook of my accountability.

Everyday we are presented with opportunities to learn, to grow, to be the difference we want to make in the world. And everyday, we have opportunities to take short cuts to happiness. It is the choices we make that make the difference in the long road of life lived joyfully in the rapture of now.



Holding Out Our Hearts (a guest post)

Today is the first ‘guest post’ here at A Year of Making a Difference. I am delighted to share Dave Cunnin’s story Holding Out Our Hearts as the inaugral posting in what I intend to make a regular Sunday experience here.

I first met Dave working at the homeless shelter where I worked for almost 6 years until the end of last year. At the time, Dave was the Senior Building Supervisor, over-seeing the comings and goings, to’ings and fro’ings of 1200 clients a night and a staff of 125. It was a busy place and a busy job.

Dave left the shelter in 2008, became a life coach and facilitator and it wasn’t until two years later that we met up again through the meditation group I attend on Wednesday nights.

Dave’s story is powerful. Moving. And true. Dave is powerful. A human being of light and truth. A seeker on this journey of life. Dave makes a difference in my world everyday. I’m grateful he’s here to make a difference in your’s today.


Holding Out Our Hearts
By Dave Cunnin

Fourteen years ago a brief encounter with a stranger not only changed my life, it (she) gave me the will to begin embracing my life and live my life. What did she do? She smiled at me.

At the time I had given up on myself and given up on life. I was living on the streets and focusing on obtaining my next meal. I buried myself in the core’s underworld hoping not to be seen, not to be heard and not to be judged. I was lost and I felt totally beyond hope.

For years I had waged a horrific battle against myself in trying to cover up or destroy all I felt was wrong with me. I had driven myself to the end of the line hoping and praying I would be removed from this world and removed from myself. One solace found was the dirt, grime and ugliness I had always felt within me began showing up around me.  I felt confused, I felt scared, and I felt broken. I no longer had the fancy jobs, fancy clothes, fancy cars, and fancy people to hide my brokenness from myself and this world. I no longer felt I was projecting a lie about who and what I was.

One day I walked into a soup kitchen and requested a bowl of soup. “Have two” replied the volunteer,”it is very cold outside”. It wasn’t the kindness of her offer nor the warmth of her voice. It was the sincerity in her eyes. I felt as if she saw through the disheveledness, the fear, the anger, the neediness, the emptiness, and the failure of my humanity. I felt she was seeing me. The smile I received lit a spark in my heart that remains, grows, and flourishes to this day. The sincerity of her smile told me that there was something worthwhile about me and within me that deserved a smile. The sincerity of her presence told me there was something about me and within me that deserved love. From that day forward I began to ease up on the war against what I felt was bad  and evil within me and began to explore and cultivate what  is good and loving about me.

That smile, that moment continues to live and thrive within me today. As I write this, I am vividly taken back to that moment and I feel surges of emotion and gratitude welling up within me. Cultivating the sincerity of my own smile is a driving force in my life and I have come to realize it is not my actions but the sincerity behind my actions that make a difference in this world.

When I hold out my hand to help I am saying I see there is something wrong. When I hold out my heart to embrace I am saying I see there is something right.

Dave Cunnin

February 11, 2012


Heroes in our Midst

Every day opportunities present themselves to celebrate the difference someone is making in the world. Yesterday, I met with my friend RW who is committed to mentoring a young man he met some months ago when taking a tour of a youth facility. RW doesn’t ask for recognition, and he doesn’t have any expectations of reward, what he has is a deep belief in the possibilities for this young man, and a willingness to be there to guide, hold accountable when necessary and support him however he can.

RW is a hero.

Barry Davidson is a volunteer who continually gives. Sometimes he jokes and says he gives so much because he doesn’t know how to say no. My experience of Barry is that he gives because he is committed to being the change he wants to see in the world.

Barry Davidson is a hero.

My friend Lori Stewart is another hero. One day, listening to CBC Radio while stalled in traffic, she heard about AWESOME Toronto and immediately contacted the founders and started the AWESOME Foundation Calgary. Along with the AWESOME team, she is making a significant difference in providing seed funding for awesome ideas worth supporting and celebrating here in the city.

I am blessed. I know lots of heroes who inspire me everyday.

I don’t know Doug Blackmon, but his book, Slavery by Another Name, shocked and disturbed and moved me. The journey of the forced servitude of African/American’s throughout the first half of this century resonates within me still. On Monday, PBS will air the documentary based on his book and it promises to be an emotional and powerful telling of a story that has the capacity to break even the most hardened heart. (Click here for more info)  Slavery by Another Name is the disturbing and true story of  “The Re-Enslavement of Black People in America from the Civil War to World War II”. Given our treatment of the First Nations Peoples here in Canada, this is a story we must honour and acknowledge if we are to create a path to healing the past and creating a better future for all our people. Please click HERE and read the Introduction to Slavery by Another Name. We must bear witness and find courage to change by examining our past with open eyes, hearts and minds so that the future can be founded on humility, truth and compassion.

Doug Blackmon is a hero.


There are so many people in this world Making a Difference that I have decided to dedicate Saturday’s to the Heroes in our Midst. This is the first installment. If you want to be included, or if you know of someone who is making a difference, please send me an email with all the details you’d like included and I’d love to showcase you in future Heroes in our Midst columns.


Have an inspiring day — or as Lori would say — Make it AWESOME!

And… Sunday’s will be Guest Column days. To kick off this new series of insight, ideas, celebrations of making a difference, my friend Dave Cunin will be the first guest columnist tomorrow. Hope you can make it! I’m excited about what Dave is going to share I’d love to give him lots of encouragement. Your support makes a difference!

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Peace of mind rests in a servant’s attitude

Princess Ellie

Yesterday I set out on my walk with Ellie, my Golden Retriever, with an intent in mind before I left the house.  My intent — to clean up the path of any deposits littering the trail. To insure I could fulfill on my intent, I took along extra bags and an attitude of service.

It made a difference. Walking with my intent clear, and the tools necessary to act upon it shifted my focus from seeing what other people didn’t do as ‘transgressions’ to one of seeing opportunities to be of service all along the trail. As I walked, I looked for places to ‘clean up the world’ and found ample opportunity to put my intent into action.

And all it took was a shift in perception.

Setting out with my intent clear meant I had extra bags with me, and could clean up all along the path. Knowing my path before we set out meant I could ignore the messes on our walk to the end of the trail we took and picked up on the way back. No matter the direction, I got to enjoy my walk with Ellie without inner grumblings of ‘transgressions’ marring my experience, and  I got to revel in a servant’s attitude all the way back to my car.


And, once again it proves how easy it is to live consciously making a difference — and to enjoy my day without inner grumblings marring my path — If you’re looking for peace of mind — shift your perceptions:  Embody a servant’s attitude —  Set an intent. Plan your path and enjoy the journey, knowing, peace of mind rests in a servant’s attitude.




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