Embracing Imperfection

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We live in a beautifully imperfect world. A world full of mystery, wonder and awe-inspiring moments, including, dark and forboding times.

What if, it all belongs?

What if it is our constant struggle to be perfect and to create perfection all around us that causes strife, our lack of connection and belonging in this world?

It’s a not so subtle force, this desire to be perfect and to make the world around us perfect. Its constant yammering to do better, be better, make better of ourselves and everything we create, achieve, buy and do in the world leaves us feeling dissatisfied and sometimes defeated by ourselves. Its constant wailing pounds away at our peace of mind disrupting our ability to be together in peace in the world.

In its strident calling out for justice, in its insistence that ‘this’ or ‘that’ do not belong in the world, in its labelling of human suffering and misdeeds as ‘wrong’, in its endless battling against one foe versus another, it denies the inescapable truth — Imperfections, sorrows, and struggles are threads woven into the tapestry of our shared human journey.

As long as we do not accept each other and our shared journey, the everything we perceive as imperfect will remain as thorns that prick away at the tapestry of our human journey causing knots of discord everywhere.

It is in our acceptance of imperfections that freedom waits. Acceptance should not be mistaken for resignation or passivity. It does not imply giving up on striving for change, justice, and truth. Instead, acceptance allows us to relinquish the habit of railing against perceived injustices and embrace the imperfect nature of our existence. By understanding that imperfections are an integral part of being human, we foster a sense of belonging and unity in our ability to work together in our shared imperfections.

For me, my quest for perfection often leaves me exhausted. In my journey, I’ve gathered together a tool-kit full of ways to quieten my need for perfection–meditation, exercise, dance, creative endeavours, being in nature. Yet still, there are times I refuse to do the things I know calm and heal me. Still, my quest for perfection raises its persistent voice whenever I fall into the belief that I am separate from the world around me or that the world around me is separate from me by our differences..

The desire for perfection keeps us separate from one another,. Those whom we deem ‘different’, the things we deem unwanted, become the barriers to the things we want most as human beings — a sense of belonging, that we fit in, that we are loved and needed on this journey. In that separation, we arm ourselves against our fears of the other, and lose our belief in our power to affect postiive change, together.

Love is perfect and when I when I choose to stand, strong of back, soft of heart, and lay down my arms full of discord and open them instead to Love, I find myself in a more peaceful, loving world.

When I choose to focus on changing the things I can with loving-kindness, my ripple becomes part of our collective power to change the world for everyone.

Our world is full of imperfectios amidst its perfect beauty. When we let go of criticizing, compaining and condemning the things we do not understand, or judge too harshly, we pave the way for perfect Love, together.

What about you?  Are you holding onto your perfect armor, hoping it will protect you from life’s imperfections? Are you holding yourself separate from all the world’s perfectly imperfect beauty?

I am not broken (a poem)

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I wrote this poem some time ago and am sharing it spoke to me again this morning as I was looking at all that has happened in the election we’ve just endured here in Alberta — the outcome of which wa not to my best liking– but, as I said to my beloved, “The people have spoken. At least this time, she was elected by a majority of Albertans, not just a select few.”

And I am reminded of the words of Rev. Gary Pattison who said, the Sunday after Trump was elected as President of our neighbours to the south, “We must stand, strong of back, soft of front.”

We must listen to understand. Hear without judgement and Be tolderant and Create common ground where ever we go.

Our system isn’t broken — but when we let divisiveness separate us, we create broken spaces.

.

I AM NOT BROKEN
by Louise Gallagher

I am not broken
though I do have cracks

I am not cracked
though I do have wounds

I am not wounded
though I do have scars

I am not scarred
though I do have cuts

I am not
my breaks
or cracks
or wounds
or scars
I am not my cuts.

I am beautiful.
Whole.
Full 
of incomparable
broken places 
revealing
cracks 
healing
wounds 
bursting 
into wisdom 
scars strengthening
cuts that cut deep
to forge 
beauty from
the ashes
of the places
that have shaped 
me.

I am not broken.
I am.
Beautiful.
Brave.
Bold.

I am woman.
I am me.

From Where I Sit

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From where I sit, green leaves kiss a periwinkle sky etched with unwritten stories full of fluffy white clouds of possibilities.

From where I sit, bird song embraces the silence opening it up to new harmonies in the mystical key of life unfolding.

From where I sit, life opens up into a limitless vista of the long and winding road leading the way to adventurous roads full of mystery and magic.

From where I sit, my heart dances with a song of joy.

____________________

As I lay in bed drifting in and out of early morning slumber, words pranced through my mind like a string of rainbow-coloured streams of ribbons trailing from a child’s bicycle handles.

I let the muse carry me away without censure.

Sometimes, playing with words greets me with it joyful expression of a brand new day meeting the sun’s smiling face in the morning. There is nothing I can do but dance wild and free with the words.

This is not a day to look down, or back. In this blissful moment, unexplored avenues open up and I step joyfully into life’s shimmering possibilities.

Ahhhh. Ain’t life grand?

The Path Unburdened – a poem

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I slip into meditation this morning, my mind wanders, the muse beckons, a poem appears…

It is, I think, from a remnant of a dream that filled my sleeping moments last night.

The Path Unburdened
©2023 Louise Gallagher

I am walking down a tree-lined path 
a path that only I know of
golden light  beacons
like a beacon of hope
calling me to move forward
free of the mist that veils what lies behind me
The mist cling.

For too long I have carried all that lay behind with me,
valuing it like a precious bundle of maps showing me the path forward.

This place I stand
It is familiar to me
warm, inviting, embracing,
I want to carry its essence with me 
and gather up all I see and feel and know and experience
these are the moments I must remember, I tell myself
and place them carefully in the safety of my bundle.

My load grows heavier
I take another step
and then another step
weighted down by the load I carry 
I lose my sense of purpose in each step
the road ahead becomes less sure
and I stand still, as hopelessness embraces me.

I cannot breathe and turn to look behind me
the mist has gotten heavier, the way back obscured
I turn back to the path in front of me
and see, a light beckoning in the distance 
shimmering in the beautiful mystery of what is yet to be revealed
in the unseen path before me.

And still, I hesitate
I feel the heaviness of the burden I carry on my back
Dare I let it go?
I take a breath and close my eyes
the light ahead shimmers in the darkness
I set my bundle down

Lighter now, I look with awe at the ground upon which I stand
It is paved in leaves of gold set with precious gems of many colours.

I look ahead and see the path before me
For as far as I can see, to the point where the horizon meets the path
golden light radiates. Welcoming and inviting.

There is only one way forward
I must step beyond the beauty of this moment,
trusting the path will be revealed 
with every step I take, unburdened by what lies behind me.

I leave the bundle full of many maps and untaken journeys on the ground 
and step forward.
There is only one way to walk this path
unburdened by the load of past regrets, road not taken, dreams undreamt
to lie, fallow, along the path
I cannot change the things I’ve done, 
or cast aside in my rush to move along
I cannot change what was and can never be again.

I step forward, unburdened and free, 
Shedding the weight of what came before and now lies behind me,
I carry on, trusting the path will be unfold
with each unburdened step I take leading the way
into the exquisite mystery of what lies before me.

Proud Mary

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In 2006, after my youngest daughter took the Choices seminar, following her
sister and I who’d gone through earlier the same year, we would always go to
the Family Dance on Saturday night.

It became our tradition.

As did, dancing to Tina Turner’s – Proud Mary.

The music would start, the girls and I would step into the middle of the dance floor as
everyone formed a circle around us. Nice and easy. Movin’ and groovin’ Rollin. Rollin’. Rollin’. as the music sped up and Tina belted out the words of the song. Nice and rough.

By the end, and it’s a long song, 100 people would be gyrating wildly to the
pounding music as we pulled the rest of the room onto the dance floor with us.

Out of breath. Hearts pumping. Smiles wide. We danced and laughed and flung
our heads back and twisted and turned our bodies as we lifted our arms into
the air, fist pumped the air above our heads and gave our all to the music and
Tina Turner’s urgings to keep Rollin’ Rollin’ Rollin’.

At the end of the song, the three of us would hug and lean on each other as
we stood celebrating six minutes of wild dancing as if no one was watching.

People were watching. Our Proud Mary ‘routine’ became a staple of the dance.

It was wild fun. A moment in time that stood still as we moved into the
empty spaces of our bodies and filled every cell with the exhilaration of wild,
abandoned movement.

Over time, as one daughter moved away and the other became involved in other
areas of her life and had less time to come to the dance, I would still dance
it with anyone in the room. But our Proud Mary moments together at the dance
past on.

Yet still, we carried the rhythm and the music with us. We danced it at C.C.
and my wedding, at karaoke one night where a group of “just us women” had gone to
celebrate my eldest daughter’s upcoming nuptials. In fact, that night, as the
three of us were prancin’ and a dancin’ (the youngest daughter and I always let
her older sister hold the mic – she knew how to use it well) a friend text his
sister, who was at the party with us, to say he’d just received a text from a
group of guy friends who were at the same pub where the girls and I were dancing to
Proud Mary. The friend, not knowing the relationship between us and his friend,
sent a video of the three of us with a comment about how his friend was missing
out! There were crazy women performing Proud Mary!

At my eldest daughter’s wedding, she and her sister slipped away to don
white mini-skirted fringydresses, a la Tina, and when they returned, the music
started, nice and easy, and the three of us started to dance, Rollin’. rollin’. Rollin’. and then, with wild abandon, nice and rough. It’s our schtick.

Proud Mary is my anthem. My call to action. My heartbeat’s yearning.

Once, at a course I was taking, each of the 20+ participants were assigned a
song they had to sing and dance to, alone, in the middle of the floor, with
about 40 to 50 people watching. The facilitator did not know my connection to
Proud Mary — but there it was, the song she picked for me, the song she felt I
needed to embody to stretch myself beyond the comfort of my known way of being
in the world.

The facilitator was very wise. She knew the dancing part wasn’t my stretch.
It was the living into the legacy of Tina Turner I needed to embrace. To keep
rising up, claiming my right to be powerful. wild and free..

Whenever I’m asked, “who do you admire and if you could, would ask to be your
mentor, or to at least sit down and share a meal with you?” Tina Turner is
always at the top of my list, ahead of Madeiline Albright, Gloria Steinem, and
other powerful women.

Tina epitomized rising up from a trauma-riddened past and leaving the
destruction behind. In everything she did and said, in every movement, every
song, she declared her freedom with wild abandon. Her power was in her decision
to walk away and rebuild. To reclaim not just what was lost in her relationship
with Ike Turner, but in living her life to other people’s demands and
expectations.

Frank Sinatra may have sung, I did it my way. Tina Turner lived it.

Thank you Tina for teaching me (and the world) how to live wild and free, being
true to who you are, singing and dancing as if no one is watching, doing it your way.

#ProudMary #TinaTurner

How to get responsible for your legacy: and other acts of lasting kindness

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The #dailypromt-1945 WordPress presents when I log into my blog this morning is, “What is the Legacy you want to leave behind?”

The card I pull from my Deep Conversations box reads, “Where is your fear of responsibility preventing you from taking the next step?”

My mind quickly leaps to a response, “Not taking care of the legacy I want to leave behind.”

Can it be so easy? The answer that is. Not the answer to the answer, because seroiusly, the question behind the question, My Morning QBQ, is much deeper, more challenging, more elusive.

Taking responsibility for self, let alone one’s legacy ain’t easy

We’re human after all.

When I think about the concept of legacy, it feels both awe-inspiring and overwhelming. It’s like gazing at a vast landscape, stretching out before me, waiting to be shaped by my actions and choices. It’s the mark we all inevitably leave on the world, the imprint we make on the lives of others, long after we’re gone. It’s a reflection of who we are, our values, and the impact we’ve had.

But when confronted with the question of what legacy I want to leave behind, I can’t help but feel a pang of uncertainty. How do I even begin to define it? Is it the achievements and accolades I accumulate? The relationships I nurture and cherish? Or perhaps it’s the values and principles I live by, the positive change I strive to bring about in the world?

Thoughts swirling, I glance again at the card I pulled. The question behind the question shimmers. “What about your fear of responsibility? You know, that invisible force that holds you back from taking that next crucial step towards shaping your legacy?”

Seriously? Shaping my legacy? Who said I wanted to leave one, let alone be responsible for it in the first place? And suddenly, it becomes clear that this fear is not something to be dismissed lightly.

Responsibility can be a weighty burden, a call to action that requires dedication, perseverance, and a willingness to confront our own limitations. It demands that we take ownership of our choices, our actions, and the consequences they bring. It urges us to step out of our comfort zones, to embrace the unknown, and to face the possibility of failure head-on.

Yet, despite the challenges it presents, I cannot escape the truth–Taking responsibility is the key that unlocks the door to the legacy I want to leave behind. It is the driving force that compels me to make a difference, to leave a positive impact on the lives of others, and to contribute to something greater than myself.

If only it was a simple as just acknowledging the answer.

Like so many things in life, the real complexity lies in the journey towards fulfilling that responsibility. It requires self-reflection, introspection, and a willingness to confront y deepest fears and insecurities. It demands that I be honest with myself and recognize and remedy the areas where I fall short.

Dang! This taking responsibility for yourself is no small feat. It means acknowledging your flaws, embracing your strengths, and constantly striving to grow and improve. It means recognizing that you have the power to shape your own destinyand that your actions, no matter how small, can have a ripple effect on the world around you.

As I reflect on the question of legacy and responsibility, I am reminded of our shared humanity. We are all imperfect beings, navigating the complexities of life, learning from our mistakes, and striving to leave a positive mark on the world (hopefully). We are bound together by our capacity for growth, compassion, and the innate desire to make a difference.

This journey of self-discovery comes with an enormous responsibility. In that responsibiity we must remember to be gentle with ourselves. To embrace the challenges, the setbacks, and the moments of doubt as opportunities for growth. And, to strive to leave a legacy that not only reflects our values and aspirations but also inspires others to embark on their own transformative journeys.

Because in the end, it’s not just about the legacy we leave behind, but the impact we have on the lives we touch along the way. And no matter how big or daunting it may feel, that is a responsibility worth embracing.

In The Flow

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It’s called being in the flow. It’s that magical state where time loses its grip on you, and you find yourself completely absorbed in whatever you’re doing.

I’ve been experiencing it a lot lately.

As I delved into research and worked on my book, I became fully immersed. Every fiber of my being was engaged.

At first, I attempted to listen to a podcast as I often do while creating an art piece. It turned out to be a misguided idea. When I write, I need to let the words flow, and having someone else’s voice in my ears distracts a part of my brain, draws my attention away from being present to the creative process..

The same goes for music. When I’m in the studio, adding splashes of color and texture to a canvas, I adore listening to songs with lyrics. They ignite my desire to dance and sing along. My splashes of paint become more free, more expressive. But when it comes to writing, the fewer words, the better.

Classical music and new age compositions work wonders for me. The only exception I make for music with lyrics while writing is the recordings of 13th Century composer and convent Abbess Hildegard von Bingen. Her music stirs my imagination and liberates my writer’s mind from any creative blocks.

Her melodic chants soothe my soul.

Entering the flow-state is a powerful experience. It enriches my being, causing time to fade away. All that matters is the present moment, the only place where I want to exist.

In that realm, magic happens. Wonders unfold, and I am awestruck by the mystery of it all.

Ah, the mystery. It weaves through life, creative pursuits, and the words that appear on the page seemingly of their own accord. As I sit here, fingers dancing across the keyboard, focused on my one task, I lose track of time and space, surrendering to the flow.

That’s the beauty of the flow-state. When I am immersed, my soul dances. My spirits soar. Ideas appear as if of their own volition as words flow out to express themselves without my thought-ridden ministrations hindering their appearance.

Now, my bathroom… well, let’s just say it is suffering from my lack of attention. It’s a disaster zone!

Okay, perhaps it’s not that terrible, but you get my drift…

When was the last time you slipped effortless into ‘the zone’?

When was the last time you granted yourself the gift of immersing in something you’re passionate about, allowing your creative nature to flow freely as you mind (and body) dance with abandon in the pure joy of being so engaged, there is no time, just you and your endeavours?

The flow-state isn’t limited to the realm of arts. It can manifest while solving a scientific equation, baking, walking the dog, running, or riding your bike. All of these activities, and more, have the potential to draw you into that state of flow.

It’s different than mindfulness or meditation. You’re not trying to still your mind and simply sit quietly. You’re consciously bringing your attention to whatever you’re doing so that you can create or build something, find a solution to a pressing problem or mystery, or simply learn something new.

I hope you embrace it often. There’s no judgement in flow state — only the doing.

Let it all flow like a river, finding its path effortlessly.

And if you want to know more about flow-state — the brain even behaves differently when you’re in it — this website has some great information including ideas on how to enter it’s healing and creative spaces.

Remember the Core

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For some reason, as I dive deep into my morning meditation, the words “Remember, The Core” pop into my head. In my mind’s eye, the letters are capitalized, much like Calgary’s downtown shopping area known as The Core. But that can’t be what I’m meant to remember, can it?

In the midst of my meditation, a soft laugh escapes from within me.

The core.

Not a bustling shopping center, but rather my belly—the muscles I am meant to keep strong to support my skeleton, enabling my body to stay upright and in motion.

Today’s meditation was far from serene. I drifted in and out of focus, much like the wisps of smoke drifting along the river’s surface this morning. While the sky above remained a vibrant blue, the river valley was veiled in a hazy uncertainty.

I consult my trusted Air Quality app, a morning ritual I rely on several times a day. It shows a reading of 3 today, down from yesterday’s 9. Moderate risk. According to the app, it’s deemed safe to venture outdoors.

Here along the river, it doesn’t look it, I step out onto the deck. The smell of smoke lingers in the air, its presence visible above the water’s surface.

I close the door, disregarding the app’s advice.

Seated at my laptop, I find myself confronted with unwritten thoughts. I’m aware of what I’m avoiding.

Today marks the twenty-year anniversary of my rebirth. At 9:14 a.m., twenty years ago yesterday, the man whose name no longer holds power over me was arrested, liberating me to reclaim my life.

It was on this very morning, two decades ago, that I began to write myself back into existence.

Yesterday, while working on my book, tentatively titled “Dare Boldly: Cultivating Passion and Joy After Life Knocks You Down,” I took a brief pause to browse my social media feeds.

There, at the top of my Facebook page, a memory resurfaced from four years ago.

“On this day four years ago,” it began.

It was May 21, 2019—the date I shared an article on my blog recounting the significance of that very day in 2003.

The day I reclaimed my life.

The day I awakened.

The day I discovered that hope still thrived amidst the shadows of abuse.

I had forgotten.

Even though my book delves into the journey of healing after that relationship, employing it as a framework for numerous exercises within its pages, I had let the weight of that memory slip my mind.

Yet, as I contemplated the Facebook memory, all I could think was, “Wow, I’ve come a long way.”

This is not the first time the significance of that date has faded with the passing years. Life, like ripples on water, expands ceaselessly, unveiling beauty, wonder, and awe.

Today, as smoke gently skims the river’s surface, the Canada Goose—a faithful visitor who builds her nest on the riverbank below every spring—lands with a clunk on the railing of our upper deck. Standing tall, neck outstretched to the full length of her avian skeleton, she surveys the surrounding land, her eyes watchful for any lurking predators.

And every year, time moves forward, an unbroken stream of passing moments, each carrying its own gifts.

For amidst my journey into and out of abuse, I have gleaned one unyielding truth, a truth that forms the core of my existence and shapes my beliefs in the beauty of life today: Regardless of the chaos surrounding me, when I actively seek to find the value in all things, when I embrace the gifts within each moment, disappointment becomes a foreign concept, as transient as a wayward traveller stopping for just a brief moment at my doorstep before moving along its way.

Pain too is but a transient visitor.

Love, on the other hand, is eternal.

This is my core—the bedrock of my beliefs.

Guiding me, a steadfast North Star.

For love endures, now and forevermore.

Namaste,

Isn’t Life Grand?

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I woke up feeling lighter this morning. Excited to greet the day.

In the cozy embrace of my bed, I reveled in the serenity and tranquility that enveloped me, basking in a delightful sense of lightness.

Then, I rose and entered our ensuite, and was greeted by the sight of last night’s pep-talk on the mirror.

“Ah, that’s right,” whispered my mind. “You’ve got this.”

A smile spread across my face. Indeed, I do.

For the second night in a row, I had almost talked myself out of writing on the mirror before bedtime. The search for my glass-writing crayons seemed like a daunting task, potentially leading to the upheaval of my studio. But then, a brilliant solution dawned on me—I remembered keeping a set of gold and silver crayons in the kitchen drawer, reserved for those moments when I wanted to help guests keep track of their glasses.

Problem solved.

Mission accomplished.

This morning, I reveled in the rewards of honoring my commitment. And, because I know deep down that “I’ve got this” (primarily concerning the book I’m writing, but with additional benefits as well), after embarking on Beaumont the Sheepadoodle’s first early morning saunter (thankfully, the smoke has diminished, enhancing both the visibility and enjoyment), I strolled into the kitchen and whipped up a batch of scones, four dozen chocolate chip cookies, and tidied away all the dishes—all before 8 am!

What a marvelous way to kickstart my day—feeling invigorated and empowered. It simply required following through on a commitment I made to myself — the added benefit is my beloved has treats to greet him this morning and I have sweet delights to share with a dear friend who recently underwent a knee replacement. The first week of her recovery has been challenging, and now I have the chance to brighten her day with homemade delights infused with love and gratitude for our friendship.

Isn’t life simply grand?

Evenning Rituals

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I have a fondness for rituals. They act as my anchors, keeping me steady and in the flow. They forge a connection to something beyond myself, a collective unconscious that intertwines us all.

One of my treasured bedtime rituals is the “3 Things” practice. It serves as a serene reflection on my day, guiding me towards calm, gratitude, and a sense of flow. Before slipping into sleep, I embrace three aspects for which I’m grateful, three moments of grace that touched my day, and three dreams I wish to carry into the realm of dreams and write them down in my journal.

Recently, I introduced a fourth ritual that precedes my “3 Things” practice—I write down three worries, things that haven’t pleased me, or instances where I could have ‘performed ‘done better’. Once penned, I crumple up that piece of paper and toss it into the wastebasket.

This act of discarding is symbolic, urging me to release the self-limiting narratives I tell myself—the thoughts that hold me back and hinder my moving freely through each moment. By throwing them away, I relinquish the power they hold over me.

Yesterday, I had a heartfelt conversation with a kindred spirit—a beautiful soul seeking ways to rise above the darkness, to believe in their own luminous heart. We explored uplifting ideas, discussing what they were doing or not doing to stay in the light.

During our conversation, I shared a personal practice of mine: leaving love notes to myself on the bathroom mirror using washable glass crayons. “I haven’t actually done it in quite awhile,” I confessed. We agreed it was a good time to ‘begin again’. Always begin again.

As we talked about the love-notes on the mirror further, we came up with another idea. Before going to bed, write yourself a ‘pep-talk’ on the mirror. That way, the first thing you read in the morning will be your pep-talk.

What a great way to start a day, we both agreed and committed to do it.

Later, as I followed my nightly rituals, I remembered my commitment to give it a go. Already in bed, I chose not to go downstairs to my studio to fetch my glass-writing pens. It was more effort than I felt like expending in that moment and like Scarlett O’Hara, who famously said, ‘I’ll think about that tomorrow,’ I gave myself an excuse to not do the thing I needed to do to care for myself in the moment.

And that’s how easy it is to neglect the commitments that nurture our souls. It’s as simple as granting ourselves permission to deviate from our own journey, evading accountability and disregarding the actions that empower us to live boldly and be our best selves.

It may not seem like a significant transgression—I reassured myself this morning. But is that really true?

What if it isn’t solely about failing to fulfill a commitment, but rather, that this “not doing” forms a habit of disregarding the actions that nurture and love myself?

What if, in the act of “not doing,” I unconsciously tell myself that I’m not worth fighting for? That I’m not deserving of my own commitment?

You see, it’s not that I don’t want to engage in those practices—it’s the message my brain receives in the act of “not doing.”

What a fascinating awakening this morning. Not only do I have an opportunity to do better, I’ve also effortlessly identified one of my three things to write-down on the list of thoughts I refuse to carry with me into my dreams tonight.

I am grateful to have woken up to this chance to create a better world within myself today. It serves as a reminder that every journey comprises small steps—each step propelling us either closer to the state of being we desire or further away from our optimal selves. Last night, I took a step away from my desired state.

Some may argue it wasn’t a big deal. Yet, what if the significance lies not in the specific act I failed to complete but in how this “not doing” becomes a habit of neglecting the nurturing and loving things I know are vital for my well-being?

Let this morning’s revelation be a catalyst—an opportunity to cultivate a deeper sense of self-worth, commitment, and conscious participation in my personal growth.