In this, the third week of Advent, on this the first day of the light returning and the ‘new calendar’ opening, anticipation hangs in the air, glittering with the shimmer of a thousand candles glowing in the night.

I feel it. I feel the desire to move out of the darkness. To move away from that place of fear and loathing, of shame and blaming ‘the other’ for the pain I have felt, the hurt I have known, the sorrow I have carried.

This is the place of renewal. Of beginning again. Of do-overs and let’s do. This is the place of letting the news of The Christchild’s arrival be heard above the cries of ‘never again’, ‘no more war, poverty, abuse, anguish’ No more killing one another. No more hurting the ones we love. No more hurting each other. No more.

This is the place where the sun’s rays break through the dawn and I feel myself hopeful, expectant, excited about the new day dawning amidst the darkness of the old.

I am not alone, I tell myself. In am not alone in my waiting, in my expectation of the holy of holy nights when hope shall spring forth in a world of peace, Love and joy.

I am not alone.

And still, my heart is heavy. Our world so sorely in need of peace continues to gravitate towards pain, war, suffering, killing. Our world so desperately in need of quiet rages in the agony of death.

Yet I am hopeful.

O Come! O Come! Emmanuel.

O Come! Bring forth peace, hope, love and joy.

Bring it on oh holy one. Bring it on.

I am ready. I am willing. I am open to peace, hope, love and joy.

I am ready.

And still.

Frustration rises. Fear edges into my awakening.

Can we not see? Can we not know that we are killing one another with our guns and ammunition. Our insistence that we are right, they are wrong. Our fighting for ground. For religious right and social elevation.

Can we not see?

Come, thou long-expected Jesus,
born to set thy people free;
from our fears and sins release us,
let us find our rest in thee.   (Come Thou Long… Advent hymn attributed to Charles Wesley)

And I am reminded. Peace begins with me. I cannot make peace when I hold onto anger, fear, frustration. I cannot be peace when I make war against the world around me.

And I breathe.

And hear the invitation of a simple song to deepen my understanding of this season and its promise of peace, hope, love and joy.

I breathe and feel its truth calling to my heart, this universal truth that speaks of our humanity — we are born in the reflection of God, Yahweh, Allah. We embody God’s greatness, him or her or it – it doesn’t matter what word we use for God. God does not seek our words. The Divine does not search for our hearts. He, she, it… knows our Heart of hearts. Our truth of truth. She knows our beauty. We are His reflection. We are Her heart.

We are limitless in our possibilities. We are magnificent. We are holy. We are divine.

This is not ‘God’ as limited by my language, This is God unlimited — The Divine. Creator. Yahweh. Allah. Buddha. Almighty Father. King of Kings. Spirit, Lord.

In this time of waiting, in this time of darkness becoming light, I let go of the words and step into that place where I and you and we are embodied in the essence of our humanity, connected through this spirit that embraces all of us in wonder as we stand in Love.

In love, I breathe into my divine essence.

In love, I come home to my heart. I come home to Thee.

In love, I hear the Divine calling of my name as I embrace the beauty and the wonder of my human condition, this condition I share with each of you – We are the Divine expression of God’s amazing grace.

Let’s live it up for all we’re worth.

Let’s celebrate the return of the light. The coming of the child. The opening of possibility. Our awakening to Peace. Hope. Love and Joy.

************************************************
This is one of my favourite Advent Carols and Enya’s version is hauntingly beautiful.

Every so often the spirit moves me, (and no, I don’t mean the liquid kind) it’s more the okay, I’m taking myself way too seriously here, I’ve got to fill myself with holiday cheer.

This morning was just such a time.

Every Christmas, my daughters and their friend Christie, have a tradition where they inveigle one unsuspecting male dinner guest to dress up in drag and lip sync to Santa Baby. (Oh the pictures and video I could share — remember guys, I can be bought).

This Christmas, a young friend of C.C.’s song, Taylor, has offered to volunteer himself — imagine, a willing supplicant all lined up for the dastardly deed.

One year, I had retreated to the bedroom when the doorbell rang and as all the guests were busy hooting and hollering over my daughter Liseanne in slinky leotard and her erstwhile dance partner, Cody, equally attired in glittery, slinky fashion, dancing to Flashdance, no one was answering the door.

I finally succumbed to the bells’ insistent ring and what did I find? Nope. No shiny reindeer. just three police men.

For some reason, that evening — which really was filled with laughter and good times and fun — came back into my mind this morning. Must be the holiday season taking over my normally sympathetic, I must make a difference in the world kind of thinking to remind me of the most important rule of all — Don’t take yourself so seriously!

And thus…. the following was born.

Twas the night…. not really.

With less than a week to ole’ Christmas
and all through my house
the creatures are dreaming of the arrival of Mr. Claus

Ellie she lays by the fire and snores
her mind all clogged up with blueberry cake mix and more
Marley he roams through the hallways at night
searching for mice who might make his delight

and me, I’m a wrappin’ and decoratin’ like a dervish
I’m makin’ even the critters all panicky and nervous.

There’s so much not done (and so much to do)
I think I might just have to stop
and have a wee sip, or two
I rush to the liquor cabinet and fling open the door
When what to my wondering eyes do I see
ten bottles stand empty, dead soldiers oh dear me.
I drop to my knees
and cry out in despair
oh dancer, oh dasher, oh prancer you vixen
you reindeer you’ve stolen all my holiday fixens’

Ellie opens one eye and stares with dismay
to see her master crying over
a bottle of spilt Tangueray
and Marley the wise cat
slithers out through the door
he’s not getting closer
to his mistress and a bottle of Glen Morangie no more

I sigh and I fall to the floor in a mess
to see that there’s no liquor to share with my guests
I wonder and I ponder what’s happened to it all
and then I remember that night I vaguely recall
it wasn’t the reindeer
or even jolly ‘Ole St Nick
there’s only one reason, says the voice in my head
that the cupboard is empty
and there’s no cheer to sip.

Remember that party last boxing day night
when you opened the door with such expectant delight
to find no cute elf, no wise men, not even a ghost
instead just three police men like sturdy posts
holding out a pink slip as they said with elan
you’re raisin’such a racket you can be heard all across the land

you begged them for mercy, I’m sorry you said
too bad, they responded
this party is dead
stop all the dancing, you’ve taken it too far,
or off you’ll be driven in our blue and white car
and we’ll throw away the key with you behind bars

Remember you closed the front door on their backs
your eyes they filled up, your shoulders they slacked
okay my friends, that’s enough for tonight,
I think this tradition needs to take a winter’s nap
no more Santa Baby, no more men all dressed in drag
no more dancing and hollering
no more acting as if you’re all at a stag

but wait, someone hollered, their eyes shiny and bright
was that Santa dressed up in a blonde wig and tights?

let’s stop what we’re doing he said kind of slurrish
as he pulled off his garland of feathers with a flourish
let’s get down to business
of cleaning out the bar
let’s drink til we’re finished
let’s drink til we’re done
let’s drink til the bottles are empty of the last drop of rum

and with that you sprang up and lifted a bottle of cheer
and exclaimed in a loud voice, were you slurring my dear?
come Absolut, come Glen Fiddich, come Drambuie, come Bols
On Gordon’s, on Tequila, Grand Marnier, and Calvados

And without a word, you went straight to work
and filled your gullet, you turned into such a jerk
and laying a finger at the side of your nose,
you finished off even the homemade brew from Uncle Joe

and as each drop was consumed that wet your ole’ whistle
you flew up to the roof like the down on a thistle
and called out to everyone as you passed out of sight
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

Christmas-in-a-box

I sat and wrapped presents last night. I sat in my all decked out for Christmas living room and wrapped and sipped a glass of good cheer and played my favourite Christmas tunes on the stereo. Ellie, slept at my feet while Marley, the Great Cat, lay curled up beneath the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. It’s possible he slept with one eye open waiting for me to leave the room so he could leap up and swat a glass ball or two, but I was feeling charitable so I chose to believe he was simply sleeping and not dreaming about toying with the decorations.

In the quiet and peacefulness of my home, my world was all wrapped up in love as I packed Christmas-in-a-box to send out to my daughter in Vancouver. C.C., who drove back to Saskatoon for a few days earlier this week, joined me on Skype and we chatted as I wrapped, events of the day, the upcoming weekend and all the festivities we’ve got scheduled.

And then I realized I’d forgotten something to make the box more special. I quickly tucked the chocolate and candy away (Ellie is no fool, she can sniff out chocolate like a divining rod reaching for water) and dashed off to the store. I know. I know. Going to the mall the week before Christmas could be considered insane, but Chapters wasn’t as busy as I expected. A quick dash into the store, a grab of one, no two, no make that three ‘must haves’, alright five extra items, and as quick as Santa flying across the sky, I dashed back into my car, wiggled my nose and I was home.

And that’s when I discovered my mistake.

The first sign of trouble is always when Ellie is waiting at the top of the stairs at the back door when I enter. Her normal routine is to leisurely saunter into the kitchen when I return home (she’s getting old and likes to take her time to come and greet me). But, when she’s standing there and makes a dash through the open door without even a ‘hello, got any treats?’ kind of welcome, I know, mischief is afoot.

I began the search for evidence of her misdeed and found it strewn across our bedroom rug. Yes, I’d put away the chocolate and candy. But, I’d forgotten about the package of Gluten free gourmet wild blueberry pound cake mix I’d bought for C.C.’s daughter’s stocking…

I didn’t even have to step into the bedroom to see what she’d been up to in the half hour I’d been away. Like the fallout from a bomb, a path of finely sifted flour and sugar lay in all its powdery glory from the doorway to Ellie’s mat at the end of our bed. Fortunately, she obviously doesn’t like dried wild blueberries. The package lay discarded, unopened. It’s possible, she just hadn’t gotten to the blueberries before being interrupted by my return, but I’ll go with dried berries are not to her taste (remember I am feeling a wee bit charitable). But the rest of the packaging. Oh my. It lay torn to shreds amidst the powdered mix.

I sighed. I might even have cursed a teensie, weensie bit and then I hauled out the vacuum and cleaned up the mess.

Ellie stayed outside. Even when I went to call her to make sure she wasn’t sick from all that sugary excess, she lay at the far, far corner of the backyard, her eyes big and glittering in the dark.

That girl, she knows when she’s done wrong!

But in the end, it was all good.

When I had finished vacuuming in the bedroom, I moved to my office, and then the kitchen and then… well, an hour later, it was as if the elves of cleaning up before Christmas had descended upon my home. The floors were all vacuumed, surfaces dusted and I was feeling mighty sanctimonious. Take that you fiends of “Who me? Ready for Christmas? I finished my shopping in July.”

I’m ready! Okay, well almost ready. There’s not that much left to prepare the house for Christmas. Let’s see. Where’s my list? Oh right. I’ve got to make a list, finish my wrapping, make the four dozen or so cookies I still haven’t baked, put out the rest of the Christmas decorations, write my cards, stuff the stockings, finish my shopping, make those gifts I’d planned on making, get together with those friends I’d planned on seeing, order my fresh, free range turkey, stock the bar, take out the recycling, put up the outside Christmas lights, make the Christmas cake (no. scratch that. too late, recipe says begin 6 weeks in advance — yes! one less thing to do!)

Ah yes, The joys of getting ready for Christmas.

Not much of a difference in my day yesterday. But other people did make a difference. A friend called from the mall to tell me he’d bought the size 34/30 dress pants. And other amazing folk sent me emails to tell me they’d cross off items on the Veterans Wishlist! Christmas at the Madison is coming together with grace and ease.

As to my list. Oh well. There’s always next year.

At least the vacuuming is done and Christmas-in-a-box is all ready to go!

The first time I realized how many veterans were homeless in our city it was Remembrance Day 2006. I’d been working at the shelter for six months and just before November 11th was chatting with one of the clients, Peter* about the upcoming Remembrance Day ceremonies. Peter had served in the military for 15 years, some of that time spent in Korea. In his 70s Peter had been living at the shelter for almost a year. He was not happy.

“I hate it,” he said. “Sure, I’m grateful but I’m 75 years old. I shouldn’t be here.”

His arrival at the shelter was the fallout from Calgary’s then boom time. A small 16 unit apartment building set for the demolition team. A building manager who ‘forgot’ to tell the residents about the wrecking ball about to descend upon their homes when the eviction notices arrived. He pocketed their last months rent and disappeared the same day, three months later, when the tenants were rousted with banging on their doors and notice that they needed to vacate within 72 hours.

Peter didn’t have money saved for a new abode and in Calgary’s hot rental market, couldn’t afford the price of an apartment on his own. Everything he owned went into storage and Peter arrived at the shelter.

“I’d just really like to get my medals out of storage for the Remembrance Day ceremonies,” he told me. I couldn’t get his medals but I could get him to the Cenotaph for the ceremonies and so, on that first Remembrance Day that I worked at the shelter, I drove three veterans to the park where an unnamed soldier stands, and a trumpeter played taps and hundreds of Calgarians gathered together to pay their respects.

There were many other encounters with veterans after that. I helped set-up a meeting with the then Veterans Advocate, Col Pat Stogryn. About 15 men turned up for that one and sitting in the room, listening to their stories, my heart ached to hear of broken pride and dreams, of fear and isolation, loneliness and desperation. Staff started looking out for veterans, Detective John Langford from Calgary Police kept watch for them on the streets and slowly momentum gathered for what would eventually become The Madison. Owned by the Calgary Homeless Foundation (CHF) and operated by Alpha House,  The Madison was the inspiration of John Langford and former CEO of the CHF, Tim Richter. It is a lovely 15 unit apartment building in the Beltline District that offers supported living and 24/7 support for formerly homeless veterans.

This Christmas we’re creating Christmas at The Madison. Last Wednesday night, my youngest daughter and two friends went down to decorate the tree and to interview residents as to their Christmas wishes. The tenants came into the common room, helped string decorations, shared stories, gave the girls tours of the building and their apartments and shared their pride in having a place to call home. It was touching, moving, achingly beautiful my daughter told me. “We really felt welcomed,” she said. “Like this was their home and we were their guests and they wanted to make sure we felt comfortable.”

This is an invitation to become part of the magic of Christmas at The Madison.

If you click this link — you’ll be taken to the PDF of details of the Madison Wishlist and how you can become involved.

Namaste.

PS — and to finish Peter’s story — I saw him a couple of years ago after he’d moved out of the shelter. He was happy. Recently married, he and his new wife were living in a one-bedroom apartment just outside of downtown. When I saw him, he looked so different. He was taking care of himself. Cleanly dressed. A jaunt to his step, a smile on his face. He was in the grocery store buying food for dinner.  He showed me the food in his basket. Shared how wonderful it felt to be able to choose his food, make his own meals, cook for his wife.  “I’m grateful that place was there [the shelter],” the wiry 75+ year-old told me. “But I wouldn’t wish being there on anyone.”  We chatted for a bit, he showed me a picture of his wife. I gave him a hug and we parted, both of us smiling over our shared connection.

*not his real name.

And the world continues to turn, the sun continues to rise and set, the moon to wax and wane.

And still, we wait.

We wait for the sun’s return, for a Son to be born, for peace, hope, love and joy to descend upon all mankind.

We wait and as we wait, our patience grows thin. We rush about, fighting crowds and traffic. We wait in endless check-out lines to buy one more gift, to put one more check-mark or scratch off one more item on the list that seems to grow longer as the days grow shorter.

And as we wait, our minds wander to thoughts of those who are no longer here. We remember their laughter. Their sweet voices. Their glowing eyes. Their dancing steps. And our heart yearns to hold them near, to feel their gentle touch, to see their beautiful smile.

And amidst the glitter and bows, the twinkling lights and crinkly paper, amongst the holiday cheer and ho, ho, ho’s, we wonder, how can this be? How can they be gone when the magic and wonder and mystery of Christmas is all around? How can they not be here when as predictably as Christmas decorations appearing in the mall the day after Halloween, we counted upon their presence to remind us that love is all around, love is all we need at this special time of year, at any time of year.

How can this be?

And so this is Christmas.

Our heart’s know what our mind does not want to believe. Time has turned, days have passed, weeks, months, years have slipped by. And in their passing, those who were once held fast to this time and place have passed on and nothing we do or say or wish can bring them back. We cannot touch them, hear them, feel them. We cannot bring them back and so must let them go so that we can listen for our hearts calling us to awaken from these long dark nights of winter.

For in their passing, life goes on, our hearts keep beating, our bodies keep doing and our minds keep remembering Christmases past as we slip into this moment to hear life  reminding us to smile, to laugh and sing and call out to passers-by, greetings of the season, wishes of the New Year to come.

This is the time of endless nights growing darker. Of day’s light growing weaker in the soft approach of winter solstice, in the coming light of the child’s birth drawing near.

This is a time of waiting for the darkness to pass. Of remembering the day will come beyond the night where we will stand once again beneath a glowing sun and feel the welcoming warmth of its soft embrace reminding us to awaken.

This is a time of waiting and remembering.

************

As I lit the third candle in my advent wreath last night, I whispered aloud the names of those whose lives were lost at Sandy Hook Elementary School. I struggled to include the name of Adam Lanza, 20. And yet, I knew I must, for he was lost, even before he stepped through the doors of the school, he was lost. And so I whispered a prayer for all those who have taken life through violence and for all those who have lost their lives at the hands of another. For the only way I know to be at peace with what is lost, is to move into that which would hold me separate from remembering there is always peace, hope, love and joy when I surrender and fall into grace.

Charlotte Bacon, 6

Olivia Engel, 6

Ana M. Marquez-Greene, 6

Dylan Hockley, 6

Madeleine F. Hsu, 6

Catherine V. Hubbard, 6

Jesse Lewis, 6

James Mattioli, 6

Emilie Parker, 6

Jack Pinto, 6,

Noah Pozner, 6

Caroline Previdi, 6

Jessica Rekos, 6

Avielle Richman, 6

Benjamin Wheeler, 6

Allison N. Wyatt, 6

Daniel Barden, 7

Josephine Gay, 7

Chase Kowalski, 7

Grace McDonnell, 7

Victoria Soto, 27

Rachel Davino, 29

Lauren Rousseau, 30

Dawn Hochsprung, 47

Nancy Lanza, 52

Anne Marie Murphy, 52

Mary Sherlach, 56

To love is to feel your death

 Thank you Maureen Doallas for the names of the children and their teachers and the poem citation. (Writing Without Paper)

Misifusa’s comments reminded me to paste in the video for John Lennon’s “War is Over”. Watching this video I am reminded again — we must make peace.

As we continue to reel from the events in Newtown, Ct., and events around the world where innocent children, women and men die senselessly under acts of violence, I have chosen to not post a guest blog today but rather, to share an idea, and a video.

The idea comes from Misifusa’s blog today, ‘Tis the Season to Send Out Love. It is an invitation to send a card to the Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut. Misifusa is a cancer survivor and shares her love and brilliance with the world everyday through words, and action. Today, she invites people to send a card by sharing the story of the impact cards had on her when first she was diagnosed with cancer — and then, she makes the act of sending the card easy.

Please, do visit Misifusa’s blog and take the simple, easy steps she gives through the link she’s included. It is a powerful step and so easy to take and won’t cost you anything other than a few moments of time.

The second thing I’m sharing is a video my sister Jackie, sent me yesterday. It is The Christmas Story told by children from St Paul’s Church in New Zealand.

When I watched this video yesterday, I cried. the children are so sweet and innocent and filled with love and joy and honesty and hope and possibility. And I thought of the children in Newtown who’s story ended on Friday at the hands of a young man who was once a child with a story of promise, just like theirs,  yet whose story has ended with such horror and tragedy he will always be remembered as a killer, a monster, or as so many headlines label, evil.

So sad.

And so, I share this video to remind each of us that every life is precious, every life beautiful. That children are miracles of life, jut as we each are. And, to let each of us smile and wonder at the beauty and joy of these children as they share a story that is 2,000 years old. A story that has shaped the course of our western world, a story that has touched the hearts and lives of billions of people around the world as we share in its promise of peace, hope, love and joy to the world.

May we know peace.

My heart is heavy today. My thoughts sluggish.

I have no words to make sense of what happened in Newtown, Connecticut. I have no words to ease the pain and sorrow, the grief and confusion and sadness.

And so I pray.

I pray that we come to our senses.

I pray that we let go of anger, hatred, fear, whatever it is that would drive a young man, anyone, to kill innocent children, to kill anyone. No matter their age, whatever it is that makes sense for someone to do that, I pray we find a way through it that does not further the anger, hatred, fear or whatever it is that would drive a young man, anyone, to kill innocent children, to kill anyone.

I pray  for our world so badly in need of healing. So desperately in want of peace. So hungry for love.

I pray for the lost lives, the children who died and their parents and families who are missing the one they love. I pray for the teachers, principal, the mother who died, the brother and father of this young man who walked into a school and did such a horrendous, incomprehensible thing. And I pray for this young man who did this, for he was lost. So incredibly, terrifyingly lost.

And in my prayers and grief, I recommit to do whatever it takes to create ripples of love, of kindness, caring, compassion. I recommit to being only that which I want to create in the world. And in my commitment, I vow to not let anger take hold. To not let hatred grow. To not let fear consume me. I vow to only be that which I want to create in the world; peace, hope, love and joy.

But first, to grieve. To let tears flow. To let sorrow weep. To let my heart beat in time with those for whom the pain and horror of this tragedy is real and all-consuming.

Namaste.

I am rooted in the place of opening myself up to miracles everyday. Grounded in my belief that Love is the answer. There is no need to question it.

I am full of hope, love, peace and joy. I am immersed in knowing I am the one I am waiting for. That within me I have the capacity to  be my best friend, my greatest companion, my own beloved.

And still I waver.

I stall and hesitate. I bend and quiver. I lean into darkness of the unknown, I stand back from the edge of knowing I must leap.

I become the dichotomy of my resistance to grace. My stubborn defiance of miracles happening all around.

I become that which I think. That which I do. That which I believe. I know better than to believe I know it all. I don’t know enough to do it all and sometimes I do less than I know.

I know who I want to be, who I am meant to be in this world of wonder, yet still I waver. Still I sometimes eat that thing I know I shouldn’t. Drink that extra glass of wine. Say that statement that does not become me. Do that  act that does not create more of what I want to see in the world.

I do the things I know I shouldn’t and berate myself for my doing. And then, I come full circle, back to that place of grace where I awaken to the light of hope, love, peace and joy shining in the darkness of morning breaking upon a distant horizon.

I seek perfection and know I must let go of being perfect.

I give into imperfection and know I must let go of my imperfections.

And then I remember. Ah yes. This is what it means to be human. This is what it means to be me.

Human in all my perfect imperfections. Human in all my defiance. In all my stubborn resistance. In all my being. I am human.

And in my humanness, I leap, and crawl. I defy gravity, I become mired in the muck of every step I take out of the darkness of the past, into this moment right now where I am present to this moment, right now.

I shine my light and then crawl under the blanket of my resistance to being my most brilliant self.

I am yin and yang. Light and dark. Open and closed. I am Beauty and the beast. I am me and you. I am. We are. Connected. Apart. Together. Alone.

We are. The human race, ever evolving. Ever expanding. Ever becoming that which we do not know. That which we seek. That which we know is the gift of this life we hold.

Together. Apart.

Breathing in. Breathing out.

This air I breathe in filled with the breath you let out.

This space I feel against my face once felt against your skin.

We are. Human. Divine. Miraculous. We are. Broken. Lost. Alone.

We are. The only one’s who can change this world in which we share our dreams, our hopes, our thoughts and deeds.

We are the ones  we have been waiting for. To make a difference. To make it alright. To change the world.

We are. Here. Right now. Waiting. To leap. To stand back. To run. To crawl. To speak up. To stay silent.

Whatever we do we are human beings sharing this one world, one planet, one place on earth where we stand, right now, doing whatever it takes to become that which we have always imagined.

We are human dreaming of that which we have never dreamed of, that which we hold as sacred or profane. That which we see as nothing more than a problem or a solution, an idea or unmindful, a possibility or impossible.

We are One World. One Planet. One People.

We are and in our being, we must always know, in our humanity there is all the room in the world for us to shine and become the light we are seeking in the dark.

Shine bright. Shine on. Shine!

It is something I hear a lot when I am talking about homelessness or the United Way or the Counselling Centre where I have been working on contract for the past six months — I didn’t know that. Or, I didn’t realize the agency does so much. Or, wow, that’s amazing.

And sometimes, I hear, the other side. Why should I care? Why can’t people just take care of it on their own? I do/did/have. It’s their own fault they’re homeless/broken/down and out. Nobody helped me when I was down/broken/hurting. Why can’t they just pull themselves up by the bootstraps and get over it and on with it? I did. Why can’t they?

It is always a tough question — why can’t they?

The simple answer is, because they can’t. If they could they wouldn’t be where they’re at, doing what they’re doing that is causing so much distress.

I can’t tell someone they need to care. They must care. They must ‘do something’. That’s not my vision. My role, as my Purpose Statement says,  is to “touch hearts and open minds to set spirits free.”

And I can’t do that if I am judging the people whose hearts and minds I am trying to touch. Opening minds doesn’t come with shutting the door on understanding different viewpoints. It comes through compassion, acceptance and respect of differing viewpoints — and then, being willing to explore the common ground between us so we can stand together and see the world around us from our human perspective of being connected, same but different — no matter our circumstances, no matter where in the world we stand.

And the best way I know to do that is to inspire others to explore with me that space where our judgements of one another, our belief in our rightness/their wrongness, our standing firmly on our side of the fence we built to keep ‘the other’ out, keep us apart, and separate from, our shared human condition.

It’s not our differences that keep us apart. It’s our belief in how those differences make one better than the other that separate us.

And when someone clings desperately to their point of view, my role is not to dislodge them or to shun them. It is to hold them compassionately in Love and understanding. To treat them with respect, no matter where they come from, no matter their circumstances, no matter where in the world they stand or how different their position is from mine.

I can only create a world of tolerance when I am accepting of other viewpoints and perspectives, knowing, there is no one way to achieve peace, no one path to joy or living in harmony. There are all ways, and all paths. They all form part of the picture. They are all part of how we do life, and death, on planet earth.

To end war I must accept war is how we, the human race, have chosen to be in this world. And in that acceptance, I make room for common ground to arise where we can all see that holding onto “I’m right. You’re wrong.” doesn’t make a world of difference I can live with. It only makes this space I’m in intolerable.

I don’t agree with war. Child abuse. Abuse of any kind. I don’t find poverty appealing. Mental illness healthy. Addictions life affirming.

And yet, I know that to stop it, to change what is apparent in our world of war and peace, abuse and kindness, poverty and abundance, sickness and well-being, I must do ‘the hard thing’, love ‘the other’ and all the sides of their equation, as if they were me. Because, who knows… Under the same circumstances, I too might do exactly what they are doing, be exactly the way they are being. And even if I didn’t, no matter my judgements, it is only when I quit shaming them, that room opens up for shame to let go of them. And in that vulnerable place where we drop all shame, miracles happen.

Namaste.

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I was blessed on Monday night to have a few minutes before the concert to chat with John Langford, the guest speaker who was the inspiration for the creation of The Madison — a 15 unit apartment building to provide housing for homeless vets in Calgary.

John recently returned from a year-long deployment to Afghanistan where he consulted with the Afghan National Police in the restructuring of their police force. John spent last Christmas in Afghanistan. “It was different to spend it in a Muslim country,” he said.

There were no twinkling lights, no Christmas tree adorned with decorations and glitter. No carols playing, no sleigh bells ringing. There was just the company of the men and women of his unit, gathered together in a unique bond that is formed by those for whom service to country lead them far from home.

When I asked John for a memorable moment of the year-long deployment, he spoke about the times he spent with his family, about a solo trip to India and his wonder at the diversity and complexity of that nation.

And he spoke about fear.

It wasn’t the fear of bombs falling from the sky, or parked cars exploding — though those were real and always present.

It was the fear of the person next to you. The man serving your meal. The fellow Afghan instructor who has been ‘turned by the Taliban’, as John put it. It was the constant vigilance of never turning your back on your cohorts in the room, that was what caused the most fear. That was what caused the most anxiety.

John described how the Taliban encouraged “green on blue” killings. (Green being the Afghans, blue their western visitors.) How they coerced members of the Afghan police force, and those working in the camp, to do their bidding by threatening to kill their families. “And they did,” said John. “They killed their families if they didn’t do their bidding.”

These men enter the police force with good intention, John told me. They want to make a difference. They want to serve and protect, to hold the peace. And then, their peace of mind is shattered by the threats against which they have no defense.

What would you do?

And my heart cries for our fellow human beings.

What are we doing to our relations?

How do we stop killing one another when we cannot make peace at home?

I know I can’t stop the killing in Afghanistan. I know I cannot silence the guns in Syria or calm the masses in Egypt.

I know all of this and still I want to.

I want to reach out and embrace the world in arms of love that will forever quiet the fear and hatred that drives us to kill. I want to quiet the anger and separateness, the loathing and misunderstanding that compels us to harm one another.

I want to make peace.

Let peace begin with me.

It is advent. A time when we prepare our hearts and minds and souls for the coming of a child whose promise of peace, hope, love and joy has lived in the western world for over 2,000 years.

In evolutionary time, that is not much time.

And I wonder, what came first? War or peace.

And I think I know the answer.

There had to be peace for us to know the might of war. There had to be peace to know, war kills. Hope. Possibility. Dreams. Lives.

And that is what I shall carry into my world today. The knowing that I don’t have to ‘make love, not war’. Love already is. What I need to be at peace today, to create peace all around me, is to continually remember, Love. To move through my day, in all my words, deeds, thoughts and actions, in Love.

To not give war room to breathe, I must always move in Love.

I spoke with an amazing man on Monday night about his experiences in a world I do not understand. In his words, I understand a little better. And in that understanding, compassion grows. And in compassion, my heart expands. I cannot make peace through making war. Peace comes through a loving heart.

And in that conversation I realize that I cannot be a peace-maker when I say, “I do not understand.” Understanding is the foundation of compassion. Compassion is the catalyst for peace.

And so, my contribution today to creating peace in the world is to see through compassionate eyes all that is happening in the world so that I can better understand all that is going on in your world. To allow my heart to know your heart.  To step in and through and with Love, no matter the chaos, no matter the sorrow and strife. To acknowledge Love as my True North guiding me home to my heart where peace, hope, love and joy expand into the world around me in never-ending ripples of possibility.