We met to plot the final notes on Drumming Up Peace! last night.  Seven provocateurs huddled in a circle around an oak coffee table in the living room of our leader’s home, to cast a final look at what we’ve created over the past months of weekly gatherings.

These meetings always begin with a ‘grounding’. Kerry Parsons, circle connector, passes around a beautiful crystal wand and invites all of us to share what’s on our hearts, where we’re at, what’s been happening for us since our last meeting. It’s our ‘internal weather report’. A check-in to bring us out of the busy-ness of the day, to check out where we’re at to bring us fully present into the circle.

As I listened to each person speak last night I saw in awe of the wonder and the beauty of the human spirit and our capacity to create.

A few short months ago, Summer of Peace Calgary 2012 was an idea. Now, it’s kicking-off at an event that promises to explode with drums and spoken word and song. Calgary’s poet laureate Chris demeanor will be performing a piece he wrote just for the show, as will spoken word artist Sheri D-Wilson. Amy Wood, an amazing young singer/song-writer will be performing a piece she’s written specifically for the night and Judy Atkinson of Circles of Rhythm will be drumming up the beat of peace throughout the night.

It is an evening not to be missed!

Though I will be missing it.

C.C. and I are off to San Francisco tomorrow morning for a week of fun and laughter, love and bliss together. Three nights in San Fran and three in the wine country at a delightful B&B Sonoma Orchid Inn. We’re staying in the Madronna suite – just the name of it feels romantic!

I am excited.

And sad.

Sad to be missing this event that I’ve helped bring into creation. Sad to not be with my circle.

And yet, I will be there, in spirit. And in spirit, all things happen with grace and ease.

Last night when I got home, I wrote out the poem that began forming while I was sitting in the circle last night (I’ve posted it on my Recover Your Joy blog. The photo background is taken from the airplane as I flew into Vancouver on Friday). And as the muse had her way, I was reminded of how easy it is to make a difference when we let go of our disbelief it is impossible to change the world. It’s not because anything is possible in the limitless possibilities of our dreams. And if we can dream it, we can create it when we move with grace and ease into being present to the miracles that unfold with every breath we take.

Months ago, Kerry Parsons dreamt of creating a summer of peace in Calgary. She invited others to share in her dream, to cast their brilliance on the idea of peace and to co-create an opportunity for peace to make a difference in our world. Friday night, Summer of Peace Calgary 2012 kicks off and in its drumming beat I am reminded that when we engage in peace-making there is no room for war-mongering. When we let go of believing in the impossibility of our dreams coming true, they do.

And, when you have a moment… check out the Peace Academy. I’m teaching there in July — along with a stellar list of other presenters who will be offering up ways and means and possibilities for peace throughout the summer. Do come and be a peace-maker with us!

Yesterday, I met my friend Max at the Passport Office to sign his passport application as his guarantor. Max is off to New York in a couple of weeks to take part in Requiem for a Lost Girl – it is a production being mounted by the amazing Onalea Gilbertson whose original production, Two Bit Oper eh Shun? had its world premiere here in Calgary in the spring of 2010. After two years of hard work preparing the stage for its off-broadway debut, Two Bit has become Requiem and the cast has shifted from being a collaboration of Calgary musicians, artists, and residents of homeless shelters, to a mixed cast from New York, and Calgary.

Max, and his guitar-playing friend John, are two original performers from the Calgary Drop-In who are flying to New York to participate.

As Max and I waited for his turn at the wicket to submit his application, we chatted about this year’s production and the excitement of flying to New York. He’s never been before. Never experienced the craziness of the Big Apple and all it has to offer. He is excited.

“Onalea loves the subway rappers and break-dancers and wants to include some in the show,” he told me. “I’ve decided to write a rap piece and weave The Manifesto into it so that there’s a continuity that makes sense.”

The Manifesto is the original piece Max wrote for Two Bit that weaves the story of Onalea’s friend from her teen years who ran to the streets and was lost. It is a haunting piece. Surreal. Evocative.  Weaving rap into the threads of sadness and hopefulness that The Manifesto evokes will be a challenge.

Max loves the creative challenge. The opportunity to stretch his musical muscles beyond the known into the unknown territory of unexplored notes and harmonies rising up and connecting in new sounds, new melodies, new refrains.

He is excited.

As am I.

I worked with Onalea throughout the making of Two Bit. I watched her stretch and grow and expand her knowing through the divine threads of creativity that wove their way in and out of Two Bit to create a powerful story of a young girl’s life lost to the dark side of the street far too soon for her to find her way back into the light.

I am incredibly proud of my friend Onalea. She has been committed to create this opportunity in New York not just for herself, but for everyone who was involved. She has struggled and pinched pennies and tightened belts and overcome obstacles and navigated choppy waters and skirted obstacles to stay the course. Requiem for a Lost Girl will be performed as part of the New York Musical Theatre Festival July 17 & 18 for three shows. Do check it out, and if you happen to be in New York — GO!!!! You will be amazed. And wowed!

Onalea is amazing.

This is her show. Her moment and as is her nature, she is graciously and lovingly sharing it with those who have made a difference in making it happen. Originally, the plan was that I would join her in New York to help with pre-production and to ensure production moves along without mishap. But Onalea doesn’t need my help. She has grown and expanded. Her original fear of how to handle all the intricacies of working with shelters has evaporated. She’s done it. She’s doing it. She is shining!

“What I want is you to be here to share this,” she told me on the phone over the weekend. “I want you here because you deserve to be here.”

I have debated ‘to go or not to go’. To witness such beauty of expression. To be part of such a shining event would be a gift.

Yet, I know it is not my path.

Over the past several months, as I’ve moved further from ‘shelter life’ into the realm of possibility beyond homelessness, my path is clear. My role in Requiem is different from Two Bit. It is simpler. Help with passport applications. Pay the fees. These are all things I can do with ease.

I love my friend Onalea. Love her amazing heart. Her shining spirit. And to be there for her would be a gift — but not as a paid attendee.

To go and laugh and cry from an audience seat. To cheer her on — now that’s another matter.

Yes. Being there as an observer, supporter, cheerer on-er. That would make a difference. For me. For her. And for Max and John, two men of beautiful spirit who have committed to the long road of travelling to New York to be part of something special, to make something special even better.

Onalea is making a difference.

And the biggest difference I can make for her is to cheer her on and say — You Go Girl! You are amazing!

It was a weekend of bliss. Time with my daughter. Time in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Time to kick-back and just be.

It didn’t matter if it rained, or not. (It did both.)

It didn’t matter if we went to the Art Gallery or not (We didn’t.)

It didn’t matter what the weather or time, I got to spend time with a young woman who constantly amazes me with her beauty, wisdom, heart and soul. And I got to do it in a city I love!

What was different this time though, was my awareness of something that is missing from the streets of Calgary. Didn’t used to be — missing on our streets. In fact, it was the visibility of them that helped spur business and social agencies on towards the creation of the Ten Year Plan to End Homelessness.

In Vancouver, panhandlers are everywhere. People holding signs and asking for money. People sitting with upturned hat by bus stops and subway exits. People lying under bridges sleeping. People lying in open doorways. People lying on sidewalks under cardboard boxes. They are everywhere.

And I felt my heart ache.

It was at one time the same here in Calgary. Panhandlers. People lying on park benches.

And then, people united and created a focus on building a path away from accepting it’s okay to have people, our fellow human beings, our fellow citizens’ panhandling and sleeping on our streets.

It’s not okay.

Not because it is ‘bad’ or makes me fearful, or makes me uncomfortable.

It’s not okay because it speaks to our acceptance of ‘us and them’ thinking. It’s not okay because making it okay means we believe there’s nothing we can do.

There’s lots we can do.

We can create better social assistance programs that help those with mental health issues live in community with dignity. We can provide better ‘basic needs’ funding to help families create well-being so that our youth can grow and thrive in our society.

We can, as they’ve done in Calgary, co-operate between agencies and emergency responders to build an infrastructure that respects the human being and works to provide the chronically homeless housing first solutions that give them the dignity they crave without having to jump through hoops first.

We can change our attitudes.

Recently, the Drop-In where I used to work, announced the purchase of a hotel. Their intent — to house 100+ clients in single room occupancy style accommodation. It’s a ‘pay for service’ model. Which means — these individuals will have jobs. They’ll be working.

What it doesn’t mean is they will not drink, or live their lives like monks. Like you. Like me. Like everyone, they too will be free to sit in their home and have a beer, or simply put their feet up and kick back with friends. Like you, me, everyone, they will have the choice of what to do with their leisure time.

These are not criminals. Nor are they animals. Yet, to read the media stories about how the community responded at the public meetings the DI held with the community, you would think a band of criminals was descending upon the community armed with ill-intentions and weapons of mass destruction.

Not so.

These are human beings like you and me and everyone. These are fellow citizens looking to get along, get by, get on with living their lives as best they can. Sure, they’re learned a lot on the road of hard knocks. They’ve fallen down. Many times. And every time they’ve fallen, the struggle to get back up has grown more daunting. Self-defeatism. Despair. Futility have all set in.

They’re not looking to break the law. Hell. If they were, they’d be taking it into their own hands and demanding justice!

They don’t have that kind of energy.

What each person looking to live in the DIs new facility has is a need to find some space of their own, a community where they feel accepted and part of ‘the whole’, and a bit of dignity to go along with the meager paycheque they earn through doing the jobs you and me and them over there don’t want to do. Jobs that keep the economic engines of our society running. Digging ditches. Pounding hammers. Moving boxes and pallets and rolling bins of products destined for the shelves of the stores where you and I go to buy the things we want because we can.

I saw many panhandlers on the weekend and was saddened. Not just by what is happening in their lives but rather, by one city’s lack of response to a crisis of the human kind.

Wake up Vancouver. You can do better than that! Wake up and take care of those who have fallen on your streets. For in their fall, we are all brought down to street level. And at that level, it’s hard to see blue skies when they break through the rains.

Today’s guest blogger does not need much introduction — if you know me, if you have been reading here, you know how incredibly proud I am of my daughters — they are amazing.

When my daugthers travelled, they both kept a blog. Alexis has intermittently kept hers going — and has started a new one which I shared from a couple of weeks ago — How I survived myself.  This is from her original How I survived myself blog — and she has given me permission to repost it here. It’s about the power of a hug to make a connection, to make a difference.

Thank you Alexis for being a song in my heart that never stops singing the sweet beautiful  notes of love that connect our hearts, forever and a day.

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My Secret Canada

 by Alexis McDonald

The other night on my commute home, I spent the hour long trip talking with a young man visiting here from Mexico City to improve his English. After asking what bus he needed to take, he asked me if I was Canadian. “Yup.” I said casually. “Wow.” He replied with a look of awe. He explained to me he had been here one week and was so amazed by this country. By its beauty, its people, and its order. “My country” he said, as sadness crossed his face, “my country is not like this.”

He went on to tell me about the corruption, the poverty, the fear that robs his countrymen of their joy. I asked him if he planned on staying in Canada. He shook his head. “No, I want to be a journalist. I want to share the stories of my people. I want to open the worlds eyes, how do you say…?” He stopped, searching for the right words, “Bring peace?” I nodded in understanding. “And the food is better there.” He added with a smile.

We spent the rest of the ride talking about Canada, about Mexico, about music (we both agreed on everything but heavy metal), and about snow. He was going to Whistler in the morning. He had fears that his blood might freeze.

“Goodbye Fernando.” I called out as he departed. ‘Good luck with the snowboarding.” And in my heart I wished him luck with the peace too.

As I walked down the safe streets to my warm home with the ocean behind me and snow capped peaks before me, I could see the Canada that he sees.

But I see another Canada too. A secret Canada that Vanoc doesn’t want the world to see.

Sitting in Starbucks the next day I try to write words across the pages of my journal. I am angry. I have just read a story by my mother about a series of events back home in Calgary. A group of individuals, who happen to be homeless, gathered together to volunteer at a charity event. Their help was refused when the coordinator read their addresses as the Drop-In centre. I am angry. I am stunned. I am without words. Does a person lose their right to help when they lose their home? What kind of world is this when ones worth is determined by a street name? What kind of Canada?

The man next to me looks up from the Intro to Buddhism he has been reading and asks if he can ask me a question? I don’t point out that he just did and nod yes.

“Are you Canadian?” He inquires in his broken English. “I am” I say, half expecting “wow” to be his reply. Instead he motions to the street at the man sitting on the pavement with a cardboard sign and an upturned hat set on the ground before him. “Why are there so many homeless?”

Here, the sadness crosses my face,” I wish I knew the answer.” He shakes his head “It just seems like a pretty shitty job.”  The irony of his earnest comment seems to escape him and he goes on, “Maybe he knows something we don’t. He is like a monk. Very quiet. Very still.”

“You mean, maybe he’s just meditating?” I smile.

“It is not like this where I am from. There are no homeless.”

Minoo goes on to tell me that he is from Korea, here, like Fernando, to learn English. He likes it here. But only when it’s raining. It is too quiet in the sun. We sit in silence for a moment looking at the people on the street pass the man praying for change. They walk by him, heads held high, a glance down only to avoid stepping right on him. He is invisible. A secret Canadian.

Minoo breaks the silence “Maybe he is searching too.” I glance from his book to his eyes, “Is that why you’re really here? To find meaning?”

“Your eyes are very brown.” He says, dodging my question. Again he says, “Very brown” as if it is something extraordinary. “Mine are black.” And I look into his dark eyes.

“Life’s got to mean more than just smoking weed and searching for pretty faces in a crowded bar.” He says, a silent pain lacing each word. “I think I’ll go to Australia next.”

“It’s very sunny there.” I point out and he laughs.

“Goodbye, Alexis from Canada.”

“Goodbye Minoo. Goodluck on your search.”

I gather my belongings and head out onto the street. The man is still there. “Hey do you have any change? He says without really looking at me. I stop. I want to say “I see you.” but I don’t have the words. I don’t have change either so instead I offer up the only thing I can think of to give. “I can’t help you in the finance department, but I have a hug if you want one.”

“Pardon?”

“A hug.”

His face breaks into a smile. “Really?” He asks incredulously. “Yeah, I’ll take one.”

And I wrap my arms around his worn coat and for a moment we are both just two Canadians standing heart to heart.

It is Saturday. The day after the ‘really big shew’ and I am content.

It is Saturday. The day I’ve specifically set aside to celebrate heroes.

I am in Vancouver. My daughter performed last night, and she was amazing! She is a hero, or as one of her friends said, ‘a rock star!’

Yesterday, the airport was busy at 7 in the morning. Travellers trying to get ahead of the weekend activities catching early flights to visit family, friends, new places, far away lands. People strode purposefully through the terminal, some wandered as if lost. I flew WestJet — they truly are amazing. I’d checked-in online so had my boarding pass, but dislike intensely dragging a suitcase with me so had one bag to check. The line-up was long and ‘serpenty’. WestJet employees walked throughout the crowd, asking people if they needed help, directing them to that line or this one, keeping the wave of humanity on the move, flowing. What could have been a grumpy, heavy atmosphere was light and airy. Purposeful.

WestJet ground attendants and flight attendants are heroes!

In Vancouver, I took the CanadaLine into the core where Alexis was meeting me at the Yaletown terminal. With each step towards the inner city from the airport, the train car got more and more crowded. In front of me, a young man sat, headset covering his ears, listening to his music. At one stop, an older woman got on, he promptly jumped up and offered her his seat. As I got off the car I stopped to comment, “That was nice of you to that,” I said. And he smiled.

That young man is a hero!

As Alexis and I walked from her apartment to Cardero’s where we were meeting a friend for lunch, we stopped to take a photo by a pretty water feature in a park along the way. A woman walking her dog approached and asked if she could take our photo. I got to hold her dog and Alexis and I laughed as she took the photo. Now…. I’d post it right now except I haven’t downloaded to her computer. Tomorrow!  Stay tuned 🙂

The event where Alexis sang last night was a fundraiser for the Canadian Olympic Sailing Team. Organized by members of the Vancouver Yacht Club, it was a fun event with a good cause. The organizers, those who turned out in support and those who donated auction items, as well as the Yacht Club which staged the event…

You are all heroes!

It was a good day yesterday — a good week, but I’ve left my computer at home and don’t have my file of ‘heroes’ that I compile during the week — so this one is all about in the moment events!

Have a wonderful day. I know I will — we’re off to Granville Island and the the Vancouver Art Gallery. Perfection!

I am off to Vancouver this morning. Flying away to do one of my very favouritest things in the whole wide world. See one of my daughters perform.

Growing up, they were both dancers. Sitting in a darkened room, sitting amidst other mothers and fathers and family members and friends watching our children perform is one of the very best places to be!

Growing up, Liseanne danced. And oh, how she danced. Fluid as a swan, as lithe as a dolphin flowing through the water, she moved across the stage. Whether she was in the chorus or centre stage, it didn’t matter. She was captivating. And ok. Just to be clear. You know she should have been centre stage always. Right? You know she was the best one up there. Ok?  Just kidding. (not really) But…. it really didn’t matter where she was on stage. I could not take my eyes off of her. And while it was about ‘the performance’, it wasn’t really. It was more about seeing her dance with such confidence, grace, joy. It was knowing she was on that stage doing what she loved that really touched my heart and gave my spirit wings.

Alexis was also a dancer but, as they call it in the biz, she was/is a ‘triple-threat’. Along with dancing, she acts and sings and tonight, for the first time in a long time, she is performing publicly. Life, in all its ups and downs and fears and tribulations has held her back from doing the thing she loves the most — giving voice to the angel within her. Because Alexis truly does sing like an angel. Clear. Passionate. Strong. Her voice echoes.

And I am excited.

I will sit in a darkened room amidst a roomful of people gathered to raise funds for one of our Canadian Olympic teams and I will be there to support her, to hear her, to see her shine. What joy!

It was in thinking of my excitement about going to hear her sing that I realized that what has made the greatest difference in my life is this thing called — being a mother. It has made me different. It has stretched me. Broken me. Built me up. It has challenged me, defied me, confused me, held me together and healed me. Not only has it made me different, inside, deep within my heart, it has been my greatest difference. Out of all the things I’ve done, all the articles I’ve written, paintings I’ve painted, stories I’ve told, lives I’ve touched, being a mother has created a difference in the world, because through me, two amazing women are out there, confident, radiant, kind, caring, compassionate, doing things to create a better world today and tomorrow.

Being a mother makes a difference in the world because, in giving our children life, giving them courage to be all they are, giving them the place to learn to be themsleves, to dance, to perform, to sing, to run, to laugh, to play, to kick-balls, ride bikes, fall down, get back up, turn cartwheels, turn upside down and rightside out and inside in, we play a vital role in expanding their capacity to make a difference in the world.

It is a difference that multiplies outward into the universe with every day. And in its multiplying effect, the world is better for their presence.

I have done many things in this world, some small, some big, some simply indifferent. But there is one thing that will never change — I have created Love. I have brought Love into this world through expanding that which I know to be true — Love is infinite and the capacity of our children to grow Love is an infinite circle of possibility radiating out from the core of our being, their parents.

I am off to hear my daughter sing today.

I am joyful.

I drove west yesterday morning. A gentle mist bathed the rolling foothills leading into the Rockies in delicate morning light. I drove west, the verdant lands laid out before me, a lush valley of possibility, of horses and cattle grazing, of geese swimming across reflective ponds mirroring the gun-metal grey sky above.

I was on the road to present to a Grade 11 class at the high school in Canmore. It is something I have done for several years now, twice a year, drive west to talk to youth about life and giving and falling into the darkness and journeys into the light.

I use the story of my fall into the hell of an abusive relationship as the framework for my message that — life is filled with possibility. We all fall down. It’s the believing we must lay there that limits the possibility of more in our lives than we ever imagined.

When I was finished speaking, and after the last student had asked a question, the teacher asked. “I’m curious. Why do you do this. Why do you share that story. It must be hard or does it get easier with time?”

“It isn’t hard nor easy,” I responded. “It is what it is. A story that is a metaphor for life. A story that exposes the darkness. And my desire is to expose the darkness, to awaken each of us to the light within so that we shine so brightly, there is no possibility of darkness consuming our lives.”

Someone once asked me — do you ever fear getting stuck in that story. Of being dragged down by it?

I can’t be, I replied. I can’t be dragged down by it because it is not ‘my story’. It is just a 4 year, 9 month segment of my story. My story is so much more than that moment in time. My story is about the difference I want to make  in the world. My story is about what I’m doing to inspire people. To touch their hearts and open their minds to their truth. To expanding their thinking into knowing — we are magnificent human beings. We are each capable of more than we ever imagined, and if someone is telling you that you can’t, do.”

Years ago, I drove west with ‘the bad man’ who would have me believe his abuse was all I deserved. When I awoke from that living hell, I knew. Life is a precious gift. We are all miracles of life and my responsibility was to live this ‘one wild and precious life’ in the rapture of now, free of the belief — his abuse was all I deserved.

And in that knowing, I began to share the truth of what happened to me — not just what he did, but what happened to me that brought me so far down on the road of life all I wanted to do was to die.

Life is meant for living.

And yet, as I type, every 40 seconds, somewhere in the world, someone commits suicide.

And yet, as I type, every 40 seconds, everywhere in the world, 6,999,999,999 people choose to live.

It is the paradox of life. Someone, somewhere chooses to exit yet everywhere, billions of others choose to live.

And we focus on the few in an effort to make their choice different.

Perhaps, if we were to focus on making this world different. Perhaps if in this moment we all were to take a collective breath and choose to make this world such an incredible, amazing, beautiful and peaceful place no one would choose to leave. No one would want to go, away.

What could we do in the limitless possibility of now?

I drove west yesterday, spoke with a group of teenagers on the brink of that time when the question they are asked always begins with, “What do you plan on doing…?”

Perhaps, the question isn’t ‘what do you plan’. Perhaps the best question we can all ask today is, “What will we create, right now, right in this moment to ensure all 7 billion of us living and breathing of this one air, one planet, one ozone choose to stay?”

We made peace last night. Six insurgents gathered together plotting, planning, building. We blew up ideas. Destroyed limitations and tore down obstacles that would keep us from creating an evening for Summer of Peace to explode.

It was… Fun!

To spend two hours focused on the shared belief that we can make peace. We must make peace. We are making peace.

It made a difference.

This sitting in a circle, connected to others through a shared belief, a common knowing that peace starts here.

At the beginning of the evening, Kerry Parsons, the vision behind the Summer of Peace Calgary 2012 initiative asked each of us to consider, “What would I do if I could multiply my lasting contribution to the well-being of all life? If I could do that, what would it be, my contribution, my vision, my imagining of greatness?”

It made a difference. Opening with possibility. Connecting to the seed of greatness within each of us. Expanding into the limitless realms of ‘what I can do when I quit playing small, quit hiding, quit being the shadow and become my light.’

What would be a grander vision for your life, bigger than you can imagine?

Think about it. If all things were possible. If the stars, the moon, the sun, the universe aligned. If you were who you are born to be. If you trust life to be all it is capable of being, all that it is, what would be possible for you to create to multiply your lasting contribution to all life?

It’s the seed of Summer of Peace.

We don’t know how big, or what will happen with this germ of an idea.

But we are precise in its seed. We are intentional in its planting.

Beyond that, the possibilities are limitless.

We met to plot peace last night. And in the plotting, war ended. Famine stopped. Abuse fell.

In its plotting, I knew peace.

It isn’t that we are doing great things. It is that we are allowing our innate greatness to shine. And as we all shine, the world lights up with out generative brilliance.

Plant a seed of difference today. Let your light shine.

And… if you’re in Calgary, Friday, June 22, come and be part of Drumming Up Peace! Bring your light to the party and let’s create a nuclear reaction of peace!

When I awoke this morning I wondered — what will I write about today? What was the difference, I made, saw, experienced, noted, wondered about yesterday?

My old buddy- fear -crept in — ha! see. You have nothing to say. You have nothing to write about. And right behind him were all those childhood voices that became my ‘messengers of doom’ as I grew older. Loser. Fake. Phony….

Yeah. Being in my head sometimes can be rather busy and messy!  🙂

And then I took a breath and reminded myself.

Stop!

Those voices don’t get you more of what you want in your life. You did make a difference yesterday Louise. Think about it.

Oh right!

I let a man merge, even though my judgment of his driving said — he was being pushy. I smiled at him as I did it too! And whispered – bless him. forgive me. (the forgiveness is for judging him)

I wrote my beloved, C.C. his daily love poem and sent it off with a joyful heart.

I told a co-worker how much I admired them.

I held the door open for a man entering a building.

I chatted with the cashier at Staples and told her how much I appreciated her smile and friendly attitude.

When I met a friend for a drink after work, I made a point of telling our waitress she was fabulous — and left an extra tip.

To make sure I was 100% engaged in my conversation with my daughter when we were chatting on the phone, I went and sat in the living room so I would not be distracted by any electronic devices.

When I went for a meeting at United Way where my youngest daughter works, I took her a Chai Latte, just because…

I purposefully stopped off at my favourite wine store (Vin Arts) to ask Jesse the owner about a wine tasting fund-raiser for Summer of Peace – even though it was out of my way.

I bought something for my sister who does so much for our mother — (but I can’t tell you here because I know she reads and I don’t want to ruin the surprise!) 🙂

And more….

Now, I’m not telling you these things so you can say — oh Louise. You do so much.

I’m sharing this list because as I stated at the beginning — I awoke thinking I’d done little yesterday to make a difference.

And yet, as I reflected back upon my day little things came up that I know make a difference, not only in my heart, but in someone else’s too.

As I told my friend when we met yesterday evening for a long-overdue visit, “Writing about making a difference every day has changed me.  Every morning I wake up and the first thing I do is immerse myself in thoughts of how to make a difference.”

In fact, there are three things I immerse myself in every morning — making a difference, love and miracles.

Ever since Valentine’s Day I have written my beloved a poem a day.

The miracles is part of a process I do with two other people. Every morning we share our gratitude list of everything that’s going on in our world — the good, bad, indifferent and ugly. We call it — Miracles Happen. The work is based on Melodie Beattie’s book, Make Miracles in Forty Days — and I recommend it highly. The three of us have been sharing this process since February — and it has definitely made a difference.

And that’s the difference — since beginning writing this blog every day on January 1, I’ve consciously added two very important attributes to life — Love and Miracles.

And starting my day out immersed in making a difference, miracles and love always opens my day with wonder, gratitude and beauty.

Try it. Think about your day yesterday and now, note all the moments, big and small, where something you did or said or shared made a difference. Don’t be shy. Don’t be bashful. Celebrate your difference in the world.

The world needs you to be your brightest light. Together, shining brightly, we light up the world in love. Together in love, we make a difference.

Simple things can make a big difference.

I coached at Choices all weekend (in Givers 2 where participants work on creating their life purpose statement). This was a group I’d come all the way through with — from the five day Choices session and both Givers weekends. (Usually I am only in the Givers 2 room for the weekend)

In Choices, participants create a Contract Statement — that statement that reminds you of who you are in the world when you are committed to your Be. Do. Have of creating more of what you want in your life. My contract is – I am a radiant woman. It reminds me, even when the sky is gloomy or the times are dark that it is my responsibility, and my desire, to shine. To be fearless. To be committed to share love, wisdom, kindness, and my gifts to create a world of beauty all around.

Givers 1 is all about colours, and now, equipped with their Purpose, people go off into the world to do and be their best. To create more of what they want in life. To share their gifts because, giving is receiving.

Every Sunday of a Choices weekend, there is a spiritual service. As Bill Spangler, the Alberta Manager of Choices says, it’s an opportunity to stretch our spiritual muscles.

It wasn’t much of a stretch this weekend to feel the essential essence of our human spirit shining. It was a stretch to feel divine inspiration filling our hearts and minds with joy.

And all because of an 11 year old girl.

Sitting behind a grand piano on the far side of the room, I couldn’t see her. Her mother Donna, had opened the service with a hymn she sang when her daughters ‘were young’. When she was finished, she said, “My daughter Sydney likes to sing and now she’ll be singing a song she wrote herself.”

And then, a series of piano chords were struck and a beautiful voice floated on the air. It was as if an angel was singing, her pure sweet voice raining wonder upon on our heads.

We all struggled to see who it was. We shifted and moved and tried to peek behind the grand piano. And then, as if of one body, the room settled. As if of one mind, we  collectively knew what mattered most. It wasn’t about where or who the voice came from. It was about letting the voice and words and song enter our hearts to make us different. It was about sitting in appreciation and gratitude for a gift of song.

And what a song. What a voice.

When Bill stood at the front of the room after Sydney finished singing and invited her to come and stand beside him, he asked. “How old are you?” And this petite young girl with curly dark hair replied with great poise, “Eleven.”

Beside me three young men in their late teens, early twenties gasped. So did everyone else in the room.

Eleven? No way.

Wow!

I heard a young girl sing yesterday and was touched, not just by her talent, but by the beauty and wisdom of her words.

What You Believe In  (Lyrics and music by Sydney Mae Schweitzer)

Have you ever felt empty
Have you ever felt insecure
Has your heart been broken
Were you ever unsure
Have you ever been frightened
with nowhere else to go…

May I be the first to say
you are not alone….

Go on do what you believe in
your dreams are never far behind….

As I said to a young woman later in the day, when I meet young women like you and eperience the wonder I did this morning through Sydney singing, I know — the world is in good hands. You are already making a difference.

I asked Sydney’s mother if I could share the experience here this morning and she replied with grace. I am grateful. I heard an angel sing yesterday morning. My heart was softened and I was made different.

It is something we can all do to make a difference in our world. Soften our hearts, open our minds and set ourselves free to create a world of wonder, beauty and love all around.

Namaste.

This is a video recording of Sydney Mae performing the song she sang for us yesterday morning. Enjoy!