Sometimes we meet people and know we are in the presence of greatness actualized. Being with Jim Simpson is like that. Sitting having a coffee with him, I know I am in the presence of a man whose heart is open in love, joy, compassion, humility. Him is a man with a vision. A man taking action to make a difference in the world by creating community, creating opportunity for people to come together and share their gifts.

Today, Jim shares a story about the source of his compassion and love. Today, he shares a story of his mother that pierces the heart with its aching beauty and honesty.

Thank you Jim for sharing your gifts and showing us how in loving life we must also let life love us back.

 

Helping Mom

Written by Jim Simpson

The scene remains crystal clear in my mind although many years have now passed. I am a young boy of 10 or 11. We are in the front hall of our home. It’s a home from the 1940’s where space and size is not what we experience today. The entry hall is just stepping in from the front door. The hallway runs the length of the house with my parent’s bedroom door off one side and the living room door off the other, further down the hall is a bathroom, my sister’s bedroom and the kitchen. A couple of years ago, my parents were excited because we got wall-to-wall carpet. It’s green and Mom talked with all her friends about it. Behind the front door are the three hooks where my parent’s or their grown up visitors hang their coats. My sister and I use a closet by the back door.

My Mom and I are heading out to walk to the store. The grocery store is two blocks away. At the store there will be a candy counter and I usually get to pick out a treat. But the getting ready to go part can be hard. Mom struggles to get her coat on. Ever since she was in hospital last year, for what seemed like forever, life has been different.

Mom’s left side no longer works like it did before. I’ve heard Dad say that Mom had a stroke and other words I don’t really understand. I wonder if it will ever go back to how it was before.

On her left leg, there are two metal rods attached to her shoe that go up as far as her knee. She can’t walk at all without it but even with it on, it’s not like before. With it on, she swings her left leg forward; steps normally with her right leg and with a cane in her right hand can walk for a few blocks but really not that far. Not like before.

But at least we can get to the store and back.

Stairs are harder too now especially without a railing. Like down to our basement. She has to bump down on her bottom. Sometimes we have races to see who can bump down faster. I can still win. We can still laugh.

I can tell she is getting upset trying to get her coat on. It’s hard. Her left arm hangs limp all the time. There seems to be no way for her to move it at all. So putting on a coat is hard. I look up at her and I want to help her but I am just a little boy. I think if I stood on my tiptoes I could stretch and reach her coat up that arm, I am sure I could help her. I could make a difference for her. But I know she likes to do things on her own. Proving that she can still do things on her own and that the stroke hasn’t robbed her of everything.

Our eyes will meet. She will see in my face a young boy scared of the changes that have happened so suddenly to his world. She suddenly wonders if her drive to try and prove to herself that she can still do it all might be pushing away a little boy who just wants to help his Mom. Who wants to say it’s okay Mom let me help you – I know I can. So she stops and says, “Can you help with me my coat? It will mean we can get going quicker to the store and we can see what the candy counter holds today.”

So now as I look through eyes that are older than my Mom was back then, I remember that letting people help me is as important as when I want to help them.

Sometimes you need to let people make a difference in your life.

I hold her memory so dear to me because she taught me how to help and be helped.

How to love all that life can bring you and let life love you back. No matter what shape the package or where the road may take you, life and love are there for all. For loving life and the people you walk with is the value of life. Helping and being helped allows us to be in community together and celebrate the value in all of us.

Making a difference and allowing others to make a difference in your life is how the community thrives.

 

Written by:  Jim Simpson

Last Saturday, I took part in a conference on the theme of “Community”. What is it? How do you get it? How do you know when you’re in it? Why does it matter?

The conference was organized by members of Scarboro United Church — heartfelt people of Divine essence who are intent on creating community where everyone feels accepted, valued and  connected. One of the individuals at the helm of the organizing committee is Jim Simpson. I met Jim last year when I spoke at TEDxCalgary. He was the one sitting in the front row, an electronic clock in front of him that kept ticking down the minutes I had left to speak. He made me nervous. Well, he didn’t, but that clock sure did. A couple of weeks after my speak, when Jim contacted me to ask if I’d meet for coffee, I met a man so much deeper, more heartfelt and complete than that clock ticking down time. Tomorrow, Jim will share a heart-warming story of his mother and the difference she made in his life. Today, I want to celebrate Jim, and the wonderful people at Scarboro United Church.

Jim Simpson and the wonderful people at Scarboro United Church are heroes!

At 28, Kate MacKenzie is more than a teacher, she is an inspiring leader opening minds, touching hearts and lifting spirits up to soar free. I didn’t meet Kate at last Saturday’s conference, but I did meet her husband, and watch her video that she’d created just for the event. What an amazing woman, and couple. What an amazing project she has created with Worldviews Project!  Do visit her website and check in out — in fact, on her blog today is the story/video of  Izhar Gafni and his cardboard bicycle — which I heard about earlier on CBC this week and thought was intriguing enough to include here — just follow this link to Kate’s blog…..

Kate MacKenzie, all the students who participated in her first project, and all the people she met around the world who let her film their stories are heroes!

Chris Turner knows a lot about sustainable development. And he’s making a difference, sharing his knowledge, creativity, ideas and passion through speaking, writing and activism. Chris is the author of, The Geography of Hope and The Leap – How to survive and thrive in the sustainable economy — and he’s an inspiring speaker. He believes in creating a green economy and is working hard to make it possible.

Chris Turner is a hero.

Who are your heroes today? Celebrated anyone recently?  Go for it!  Get inspired!

And… because I like to share wonderful things I find throughout the web, I’m sharing this 2 minute video of the evolution of the world — just think about it — 14 billion years portrayed in two minutes. Like life, it’s brilliant and it goes by in a flash. Treasure it!

 

Yesterday I listened to a panel of ‘experts’ being interviewed on another angle of the Amanda Todd story that disturbs me. A woman in Calgary, after finding an insulting comment on the Amanda Todd Facebook page, tracked down the man who wrote it through his FB page, contacted his employer and they fired him. (Christine Flavreau gets Toronto man fired for negative Facebook comment)

I understand her desire to stop online bullying. I understand the need to hold people accountable. I do not understand the need to create more victims.

Years ago, while working on a play with a group of street teens, I took the unusual measure of going eyeball to eyeball with johns in order to understand what young teen prostitutes go through standing out on the street, selling their bodies. I was fortunate. I had two police officers watching out for me. I had been coached both by the police and the girls, several of whom were part of the group writing the play with me.

It didn’t matter how prepared I was. I was terrified that night. Terrified and feeling alone. Terrified and feeling shamed. Terrified and feeling exposed.

It was awful.

And, it was enlightening.

Prior to standing out on the street posing as a prostitute I carried a lot of opinions about the johns. Evil. Perverse. Perverted. Scum… I was full of judgments.

And then, I stood beneath a streetlight, my body exposed in scanty apparel. Strutting the walk. Striking the pose.

Men drove slowly by inspecting the wares on display. My job was to entice them to stop. I smiled. Looked ‘alluring’. Did my best to be the one they picked. They drove around the block, circled back, again and again until finally, they’d stop and I’d approach the car.

They’d roll down the window, sometimes I’d open the door and lean in. We’d have ‘the conversation’ until eventually, I would step back, close the door, say, “Not tonight” and they would go on to pick another.

I was fortunate that night. I never had to get into a car with a stranger, drive down some dark lane and commit some sexual act for $50 bucks or a $100, depending upon the act. I never had to perform beyond the pose I struck on the street and the brief conversation that ensured I had the chance to go eyeball to eyeball with these men who disgusted me.

I was safe. My guardian angels sat in two separate unmarked police cars watching over me.

But I didn’t feel safe. I felt scared. Frightened. Confused.

What was wrong with us? Where was our humanity? What drew these men to troll the streets searching for release through sex for hire?

It wasn’t because they were healthy. It wasn’t because everything was ‘all right’ in their lives. It was much deeper. Much more complex than just men abusing their power and control on the seedier side of life.

It was hell that night. And yet, I came away with something I never expected.

I stood out for four hours that night and when Ron and Glenn, the two police officers who were watching over me took me for coffee after my turn on the street, I cried.

“They’re all victims,” I told them. “Every car that drove up I imagined a bucketful of shame dragging behind them. They don’t do this because they ‘like’ it. They do it because it’s the only way they know to push back the pain of living.”

Doesn’t make it right. Doesn’t make what they’re doing justified.

But it does make it possible for me to feel compassion for these men who are so broken, they cannot see that their actions are breaking the lives they touch.

I thought of those johns yesterday as I listened to the panelists discuss the right and wrong of what Christine Flavreau did. I understand ‘why’ she did it. I don’t understand what makes it right to do.

Bullying bullies creates bigger bullies.

Treating symptoms does not cure  the disease.

What happened to Amanda Todd is tragic.

What that man posted was wrong.

Had he been an alcoholic and created a scene at the Christmas party, his employer might have helped him find treatment, instead of dismissal.

Had he been suffering from depression, they might have offered him counselling.

What he wrote is a symptom of the unease/disease within him. Publicly shaming him is not the path to awareness. It’s no way to stop bullying.

Until the root cause is found, he’ll keep doing it only now, he’ll have a victim story to tell that keeps him pinioned to the shame of what he did and how he was wronged.

Bullying a bully doesn’t give him or her pause to reflect upon their actions. It doesn’t give them cause to seek help or find ways to change.

We cannot stop bullying by labelling someone a bully and letting them go.

We need to find a more compassionate, humane and caring way to heal the wounds that are causing us to act out. We need to stop the pain within if we are to create a world without bullying.

 

 

My amazing friend Howard Parsons wrote a beautiful inspiring post on his Hopeful Notes from Howie J this morning. He asks the question, “What inspires you?”

Life inspires me.

Every moment. Every day.

And then there are those moments where I just want to crawl into bed and wish the day over and sleep into tomorrow!

But they are not often.

Those days, the ones that don’t inspire me are mostly awakened when I take my attention off the wonder and beauty all around and let despair settle in for a visit.

And yes, there are moments in this life that I do feel despair. That place of thinking, what can I do? The problem’s too big. The issue too vast. The complexity too deep. What can little ole’ me do to make a difference anyway?

Lots.

But when I let my victim voice have its say, I think myself into powerlessness. I woo myself into despair.

I allow 100% of what happens in my life into my life. I am 100% accountable for me. And what I put my attention on grows stronger in my life.

Giving into my victim’s voice, giving way to despair does not nurture, nourish nor inspire me. It just brings me down into that place where darkness feels more welcoming than light.

It’s not about false optimism or faking joy. It’s all about knowing, I cannot change the world. I am not powerful enough to stop starving children in Africa dying. I am not powerful enough to stop war from waging.

I am powerful enough to change how I am in the world and in that change, I am powerful enough to create a ripple. In my ripple I want to be inspiring and uplifting. To live my ‘want’ on the other side of my fear — I am not enough to make a difference, I must live from that courageous belief that I am capable of doing my best to ensure whatever I’m doing and being is founded in my highest intention of being the change I want to create in the world.

We all can. Make a difference.

It’s like when I got out of that relationship that was killing me. While in it, I didn’t believe I was powerful enough to change him. And that was the truth. I wasn’t.

I cannot change someone else. I can change me. And in that relationship, I couldn’t change what he was doing or who he was — it is who he was — but… because I was so focussed on thinking about what I could do to stop him treating me the way he was, what I could do to change him, I didn’t see I had the power to stop abuse in my life by changing what I was doing.

Abuse hurts. Stop it.

War kills. Stop it.

We can ‘stop it’ when we stop believing it’s up to someone else to stop or change or be someone/something else.

And in the stopping it in our lives, we can create the world we’ve always imagined. As long as we don’t stop believing in our power to create change in our life, as long as we don’t stop believing in our capacity to make a difference.

We all have the capacity to make a difference. It’s up to each of us to determine what that difference is, and then to act on our capacity to create what we want to see more of in the world!

I want to create a world of beauty, a world where hearts open to the truth of their magnificence, where minds open to the wonder all around and where spirits soar in the freedom to become their most miraculous selves.

And in my desire to create, I am 100% responsible for me and my ripple.

What inspires me Howie J? Waking up to the beauty and wonder of life. Waking up to the magnificence of my being and becoming all I’m meant to be when I let go of believing, I do not make a difference.

We are each of us miracles of life. We are each of us magnificent.

Our very presence here on earth makes a difference. It’s up to each of us to make our difference a song of life we want to share. It’s up to each of us to live it up for all we’re worth and in our living it up inspire others to set themselves free to live from their magnificence shining brightly for all to see.

Namaste.

 

 

 

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I wasn’t really sure what the day would hold. I’d thought of all the reasons I ‘shouldn’t’ go — work to be done, cleaning of closets to be accomplished, winter wardrobe to switch over, a report to write — and in the end, I decided going was what my soul needed. 

And so I went, along with five others, to a ranch near Pincher Creek in the southern reaches of the province. A ranch where Jens Steenberg has built a pyramid for meditation and healing.

It was sublime. Divine. Blissful.

Alberta is often called, Big Sky Country. In the southern corners it could also be known as Big Wind Country. It was two hands on the wheel kind of driving. The winds blew fiercely, buffeting my car as we sped southward along Highway 22X, the Rockies a solid mass of granite and limestone soaring into the sky on our western flank, the rolling, undulating fir clad foothills rolling into the plains far to the east.  Above, clouds rolled across the sky in thundering dark masses punctuated with white fluffy billowy softness that leaped and cavorted amongst the darkness overhead.

It was glorious.

And then, we reached Jens ranch and the winds blew and the lake waters hurled themselves against the shore in steely grey waves and Jens’ windmill careened in crazed glee spinning and spinning, a high keening whir competing against the wind’s howl. Rolling plains stretched out to the meet the Rockies, fir trees and barren poplars bent windward climbing up along mountain ridges that split sky and earth. Beauty unfolded itself upon the painter’s landscape spread out before us.

We sat in Jens’ greenhouse, sharing a potluck lunch and chatted about the inspiration behind the pyramid. We talked of spiritual graces and secular matters and the world fell away into that space where time drifts into nothing as gently as a leaf falling in the forest. After lunch we entered the pyramid and spread ourselves out to meditate and to simply be present in the natural energies of the sacred confines of that amazing space.

It was divine.

From the notes of Judy Atkinson playing her flute, to drumming, we connected together through silent contemplation, letting worldly matters recede as we fell into communion with soul and spirit and all that is Divine within ourselves and this world which we share together.

And then, we braved the elements. Climbed up onto the ridge on the other side of the lake, Jens leading the way through the forest trees up onto the highlands, up into the wind that whipped itself into a joyous frenzy amongst the crags and crannies of the higher ground.

I am alive the wind and rain and clouds and trees and rocks and streams seemed to say. I am alive and you are amidst me and you are alive too.

And I was.

Alive. Enlivened. Enveloped in the natural grace of being present to the rapture of the moment spread out in infinite time before and within me. Alive to the joy of being in that space, that place, that time where I could simply be present to the One within me. Connected to One within the others. The One within the All that we are when we let go of being separate and apart and join in communion with the world that connects us all.

I am One. You are One. We are all part of the One that is all that we are.

It was a day of soaring spirits and tantalizing vistas. A day of new experiences. New horizons. New views. A day like no other.

It was a day that made a difference because I was made different in its passing.

I am blessed.

I am grateful.

I am One.

I met Dianne MacDougall Quan at the City of Calgary Arts & Culture Department when I was involved with the This is My City — an city-inspired arts initiative that connected community artists with those with the experience of homelessness. She was passionate. Committed. Dedicated to connecting people and ideas to create beauty in our city.

Dianne wasn’t directly in the project itself so we didn’t spend much time chatting and working together. And then, we met up at Peace Calgary and I was blessed with the opportunity to get to know her better and to be inspired by her passion, and commitment to creating beauty all around.

Today, Dianne creates beauty through sharing her words of what makes a difference in her world through the gift of meditation.

Little Death of Persona

By Dianne MacDougall Quan

Tonight I heard an interesting term from Dal – my meditation guide: the so called ‘LITTLE DEATH’ of ego.

Dal discussed how continued practice of meditation can cause  the ‘little death’ of persona, also called ego or  the adapted self.

Let me begin my explaining how our group practices meditation. When our circle meditates with Dal, we quiet down the emotional, mental and physical states (or ‘static’)  through a practice called “The Four Step”.

Essentially the Four Step Process is a grounding.

– It  first begins with the breath and developing a cadence.

– Following this, we are asked to visualize  a  “gathering up” of our  mental, emotional and physical energy and sending them down through our feet….  deep into the earth. This is an invitation for soul to shine through.

– For the third step, we are asked to   imagine a  magnet,  six inches above the crown chakra. We are then told to ‘pull up’ on this magnet, which aligns the energy channels in the body.

– The final step is to simply  to go to our  HEARTS – and just BE THERE in the heart chakra.

Here’s the thing: Especially for new practitioners, ego is going to work REALLY hard to take control of this process and make sure that soul doesn’t gain ground. At first, practitioners might squirm around, fight the feeling of relaxation, ask ‘what good this could possibly do”.

But with practice, one gains ground. One GOES to the quiet. Dal guides us in many ways once we begin to access the quiet and let soul shine through. We don’t have to DO anything, and if EGO keeps ‘butting in”‘ – well – “just go back to the grounding process”,  we’re reminded.

I’ve learned alot about EGO, and life – with our meditation circle. In life, we often think we have to DO SOMETHING, CHANGE SOMETHING, CONTROL SOMETHING, STRIVE FOR SOMETHING .But sometimes, we can choose to do nothing without beating ourselves up about it.

Here is something else that has happened to myself and group: WE ARE ALL CONNECTED. WE ARE ESSENTIALLY ‘ONE’….unified by the pure energy of love. Once we get  out of ego, there’s a ‘force’ – a repeating cycle – in our meditation circle. It defies words.  It brings tears. It brings a closeness that can’t be described. It is: pure and simple LOVE.

There’s a shift going on… as we approach Dec 2012…. the end of the Mayan calendar and descent from the Piscean age while ascending into the Aquarius age. The new age calls for moving from AWARENESS to ACTION: to using our god – given gifts – our spiritual archetype (we all have one) to be in service for a better self / family / community and world.

The ego likes to keep us prisoner sometimes by reinforcing old behaviors and beliefs. BUT:  once we begin to challenge these beliefs through continued access to spirit, the whole game changes — and the world is made different.

Little by little, the ego goes through a gradual death,and we are transformed by love, gratitude, and infinite capacity.

 

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Thank you Dianne!

and please… don’t forget to vote! Your vote makes a difference!

http://www.avivacommunityfund.org/ideas/acf13435

Heroes are everywhere and today is my day to celebrate every day heroes who make such a difference in the world.

Yesterday I received an email from Heather Innes who is the Connections Team Lead for the United Way of Calgary and Area. She was thanking the impact speakers for their work in reaching out to Calgarians to tell them about the United Way and its important work in our city. Along with her email she sent a delightful story she’d written about a conversation with her son. I asked Heather if I could share it here because it speaks so strongly to the hero in everyone.

Thank you Heather for letting me share your story here, and for all the amazing work you do to make a difference in this world. And thank you to all the Impact Speakers, Hong who organizes it all, the Campaign Associates and everyone at United Way and all its supported agencies. You make a difference. You are all heroes.

 

To Me – You Are a Hero  – by Heather Innes

 

Another Saturday morning – on my knees in soapy water, scrubbing the kids’ bathroom floor.  I am ruminating on how Mothers’ Day is coming up and I, maybe, won’t have to do the dishes for a full day.  My 5 year old son, James, swoops in wearing his Super Hero Cape, singing at the top of his lungs.

I always knew I would get the question.  I was not really expecting it in a small bathroom with James blocking the door so there was no escape.  Life with children is always fun and interesting!  They are never afraid to ask questions any adult might find intimidating.

“Mommy – why don’t we ever see your Mommy and Daddy?” I was a bit taken aback.  I don’t talk about my parents all that often.  They passed away many years ago and their story was not a very happy one.

I explained that I had not grown up with my parents because they were sick and could not take care of me and my sisters.  We had been taken care of by Foster families.  We had been supported by Community organizations committed to helping people.  This was how we ate, how we went through school, how we got clothing and how we survived.

I explained that this is why Mommy works at United Way – so that I can help people now- like I needed help then.  I get to help children be all they can be, move people out of poverty and build healthy people and strong communities.

“Mommy – you are a Super Hero!”

I said, “No – Honey – but I sure get to work with a lot of Super Heroes”.

Off he flew with his cape behind him – reminding me – we are all Heroes to someone.  You are a Hero today – Change starts with you!

–          Heather Innes

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I was given the gift of a story the other day about a man who is making amazing and important changes in his life. Once he was a sexual predator. Now, he’s working on being a better man. A man he can be proud of. A man others can live with without getting hurt. A man who makes a difference in the world.

His story inspires me because it speaks to the magnificence in all of us. It speaks to how ‘when we know better, we do better.’  For this man, all he knew was abuse. From abused child to abusing adult was not a big step. It’s not that he didn’t know it was wrong. It was that he couldn’t stop himself from acting out from his pain and hurting others.

And then, he went to jail. Upon release from prison he was mandated into counselling. Through that process, he began to understand he had within him the power to change his ways. He had within him the man he’d always wanted to be but never known how to become. He’s been in counselling 2 years now. He hasn’t abused. He hasn’t acted out. His self-awareness is growing. His ability to ‘stay clean’ is strengthening and his commitment to being a different man in the world is firm. He’s started writing poetry about what kind of man he wants to be. He’s started writing out his path into the light. He’s starting to see that his thinking wasn’t hard-wired, it needed re-wiring. This man has hope and gives me hope. We can stop abuse. Whether the abuser or the abused. We can stop it.

He is inspiring. He reminds me that no matter what we’ve done, we can change our lives for the better when we stand up and get accountable, take responsibility, and are committed to letting go of the past to live fearlessly in the truth of our magnificence today.

This man and all those involved in his recovery are heroes. 

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There is a tragic story here in Canada this week about a young girl who took her own life on October 10 after being bullied for years by schoolmates. Five weeks ago she posted a video on her story. No spoken words. Just sheets of paper she’s written on that she showed one by one. When I heard this story and watched the video I was angry, sad, confused. How can this happen? How can we not see?

I share Amanda Todd’s video here as a reminder to all of us — this young girls life means more than just some sad words on your computer screen. It means, we must take action to stop bullying and abuse. Everywhere. However we can. Always and Forever.

My eldest daughter called me last night. She’s excited about a project she’s embarking on and wanted to tell me all about it.

I am grateful for her willingness to share with me what lives within her heart.

The other day I shared a link to the Project True Pledge video. She wrote the video as part of her commitment to make a difference in the world.

And she wants to keep doing more.

I want to invite people to make promises about their lives and to share those promises and their commitment to live true to them, she told me.

Yesterday I wrote about not being able to take my own life at a time when all I wanted was to die. Because I love my daughters I couldn’t make a lie of that one truth I held onto.

But it goes deeper than that. It goes to the promise I’d made them one cold January morning of 2003.

It was just before ‘the bad man’ and I disappeared from the city and their lives. Everything was spiralling. I was losing my hold on reality, losing my grip on gravity. I was losing. Everything.

Most of everything I owned was already gone. I was quickly jettisoning what little I had left. Self-respect. Dignity. Belief in myself. I was letting it all go. The voices in my head were deafening. Yelling, pounding, searing voices reminding me how useless I was, how worthless.

‘The bad man’ and I had gone to pick up one of my daughters to take her to her dance lessons. I went to the door of their father’s house and they both opened it and their father stood behind them. They invited me in. I could feel the ‘bad man’ staring at me, watching from where he sat behind the steering wheel of the vehicle I would later discover was stolen. I stepped into the house and the girls pleaded with me to leave him. To forget about trying to get my money back. To forget about him and just leave him.

I couldn’t do it. I wanted to make it right. I wanted to fix it. Or so I told them.

My daughter wouldn’t come with me that day. Her father would drive her to dance but as I left my eldest daughter pleaded with me to promise that I wouldn’t do anything to take my own life.

How could she know, I wondered. She’s only 16. How could she know?

I remember not being able to look at her. I remember staring down, responding with something like, “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I won’t.” Knowing even when I said it, that I was lying.

My daughter was insistent. “Promise me,” she said. “Look me in the eyes and say, I promise.”

I shoved back the tears. I shoved back my fear, looked briefly into her eyes and whispered, “I promise.”

And I left and wouldn’t see or speak to them for months.

But that promise kept me alive in those final months. That promise was the thin thread of my past holding me to my present.

I could not break a promise I had made to my daughters. I couldn’t. I didn’t.

Promises make a difference.

I promise to live my life in joy and truth and Love and gratitude.

I promise to celebrate all that I am, beauty and the beast and to love all of me, no matter my condition.

I promise to share my gifts, to share my joy, my love and hope in ways that create more of what I want in my life and the world.

I promise to give of my best to inspire the best all around me.

Last night, my daughter shared the inspiration of how a promise she had made to her sister when they were small has inspired her to create a project about promises. In her sharing I was reminded of the power of a promise to keep hope, love and possibility alive. It wasn’t until I’d hung up and was thinking about her excitement, about how amazing she is, how strong and courageous that I remembered the promise I’d made to her and her sister that saved my life.

Once upon a time I made a promise to my daughters. Today, I live with the joy of that promise filling every breath I take.

Is there a promise you’d like to make that would make all the difference in the world to how you’ve living you life in this moment right now? Go ahead. Make it. Who knows what miracles will unfold when you do….

Namaste

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And I have promised my daughter to support Project True’s bid for funding from AVIVA Community Fund. I’m voting every day — if you have a moment, please share your vote. You will make a difference.

And, if you’d like to share your promise, Alexis will be sharing her idea soon on how you can make a difference with it!  Stay tuned…. 🙂