You must learn to be still in the midst of activity and to be vibrantly alive in repose. Eric Allenbaugh

Mother Earth: Please forgive me
10″ x 24″
Acrylic on Canvas
2014 Louise Gallagher

When I was a little girl I was filled with wild enthusiasms, sparks of imagination and bursts of creativity. I was seldom quiet, was in constant motion and asked questions continuously.

A favourite game was to time me to see how long I could stay quiet without asking a question. I usually lost.

In an effort to gain peace from my constant chatter, my family chided me for being so noisy, so bubbly, so chatty. Dinner table talk centered around my father’s opinions and my brother’s counterpoints. There wasn’t much room for a girl to butt in, though I tried. Inevitably, I’d end up swallowing my tears, forcing a smile upon my face and pretending I wasn’t bothered by their ribbing.

Smiling, swallowing and staying silent became a habit. A not particularly healthy one, but one that kept me feeling ‘safe’, even when stepping into danger.

Breaking childhood habits, reordering traits, and rearranging responses is a prerequisite of a happy adulthood.

It’s also, at times, hard work.

You can take the childishness out of the adult but you can’t make the childhood disappear.

My pattern of dysfunction around ‘criticism’ can easily be triggered by my daughters’ responses to what I think of as me being ‘funny’ and then my automatic judgements of what I deem to be their judgements of my behaviour. One incident several years ago was the catalyst for my getting conscious of how my behaviour wasn’t working for me. I had gone to a reading of a play involving my eldest daughter. After the reading, I was goofing around, pretending to mimic my eldest daughter’s character in the play by speaking in a funny accent. As we walked down the stairs from the rehearsal hall, I chattered away in my accented voice, which, in retrospect, knowing my daughter’s serious nature and how passionate she is about any work she’s involved in, could have been deemed as mockery, versus the funny I was attempting to be. . My daughter, conscious of the people on the stairs below us, hushed me up. “Mum. That’s rude.” she said.

My visceral response was triggered by a long ago pattern of feeling less than, of feeling hushed as a child.

I shut up. I sulked.

Not a pretty pattern.

Awareness is the first step in changing any habit, in breaking patterns.

I am aware that my response to any criticism from my daughters triggers my feelings of childhood angst, of feeling belittled and mocked. Of being silenced when all I wanted to do was laugh or play or talk.

Has nothing to do with the circumstances I’m encountering today and everything to do with the trigger points within me.

Martial arts master Sang H. Kim suggest we, “Practice change. Change your hairstyle, change your breakfast cereal, change your jogging route.”

Changing how I perceive criticism begins with practicing accepting criticism in an open state. To be open I must Breathe and ask to be open. To expand, not contract.

Coming down those stairs I let down a wall that was holding me back from being all I desire to be. In my push to ‘be funny’ I was doing the very thing I had experienced as a child — ridiculing the efforts of the people I love.My daughter worked hard on her role in the reading. In my teasing, I was mocking what she did. And, I was embarrassing her by offending strangers with my imitation of the language of the play that happened to be part of their cultural heritage.

I don’t have that right.

On the surface, the pattern here is not my response to her criticism. It is my effort to ‘be funny’ and feeling like I was not allowed to ‘be me’. Beneath the superficiality of ‘being me’ is a deeper, darker need. My desire to be seen, heard, witnessed, honoured and cherished.

As a child, I acted out to gain attention.

As an adult, I sometimes do the same.

Time to break the pattern. Shift it up and switch it around. Time to act in ways that honour who I am and what I want to create in the world around me. As my friend CS often asks, “What’s the ripple you’re creating with that?”

I want to create ripples of calm and peace, love and harmony. To ‘be the change I want to create in the world,’ I must  become the stream, let go of damming up the flow and become vibrantly alive in the repose of being me, exactly the way I am, without fearing no one ‘sees me’.

It’s time to sink beneath the habits that create the ripples on the surface of my life and dig into the flow of what creates the more of all I want to live lovingly in the rapture of now.

Dream big.

It was the message from my dream and while I don’t remember much of the dream itself, the words kept floating through my mind as I awoke.

Dream big.

I remember being at my computer, typing. A man walked into my office and told me I had to write 7 Ways to Love. You mean I have to write about sex? (Funny where my mind goes in my dreams!) He laughed and said, Dream big. What are the ways? I asked, but he had left and I found myself on a beach, water lapping at my toes, sun warming my skin. The view was limitless. The sky arching towards earth, blue on blue where it met the water’s edge far off on the distant horizon. I was on a sailboat, the wind filling the sails, blowing my hair. I had one hand on the tiller and the fingers of my other hand skimmed the surface of the water. For all the wind filling the sails, I felt lazy, relaxed, calm. There was an island. I sailed towards it.

And then I awoke and as sleep left me, the words came into my mind, Dream big.

Hmmm….

7 Ways to Love.

1. Soften your heart. Don’t hold onto the angry edges of regret and fear and stories of how others hurt you. Soften your heart, let it breathe freely.
2. Give of yourself. Quit thinking about what others can give you. Focus on what you can do for others. Consider your gifts and share them freely, without looking for the ‘return on investment’.
3. Trust. Love is always present. Love  is all around. You are an expression of love in the human form. Trust that love is with you, in you, around you always. You are safe in Love’s embrace.
4. Be compassionate.  When feeling frightened, scared, worried that ‘someone will hurt me’, move into compassion. (goes with softening the heart) Remember that we are all struggling to find love, find that special someone, feel that special someway, know that special feeling. We all struggle to understand, ourselves, love, being loved, being loving, feeling less than, other than. We all share in the unknown journey of what it means to live life free of fear of being vulnerable and intimate with another.
5. Stand true to yourself. Don’t bend your values, beliefs, personality, desires, dreams, goals, don’t bend what is most important to you to fit someone else’s belief of who you should be, what you should do, how you should act. Stand true to yourself in all things. Be the “I” of your truth and if the winds should howl around you, stand true to the ‘eye’ at the centre of the hurricane and do not let the winds pull you off your course. In the same way, let others stand true to who they are. Do not attempt to change them to fit your needs. Create the space for them to be their best self and you be yours.
6. Stand in the broken. Be willing to feel the pain, know the hurts, experience the sadness. Don’t push ‘negative’ feelings away. Let them flow. Conversely, don’t hold onto the feelings that hurt you — anger that lasts more than 10 minutes is not anger of the present. It’s anger that has connected to something in the past. Let it go. Let it flow free. Give yourself room to apologize. Let go of being right and choose always to be ‘real and present’ even when your mind is screaming, Danger! Danger! You’re going to get hurt. (Trust in yourself. Trust in Love.) Know that now is not forever — unless you hold onto the broken pieces and never let yourself heal in love.
7. Forgive. The shortest route to Love is through forgiveness. Forgive the past. Forgive others. Forgive yourself. Forgive. You don’t have to name what you are forgiving. Adopt an attitude of forgiveness. When painful memories arise, repeat to yourself, I forgive. and let the painful memories be washed away by the healing grace of forgiveness. There is only one place painful memories exist — and that is in your mind. They are of the past. Cleanse yourself of the pain. Forgive. And when in doubt, move into Compassion. It fits hand in hand, heart to heart with forgiveness and love.

I awoke from a dream this morning that reminded me to Dream Big. I didn’t know what the 7 Ways to Love would be.

Trusting in the process, they appeared.

How cool is that!

Namaste.

I witnessed the beauty and wonder of the grace of the human spirit yesterday. It was amazing.

Two years ago, a remarkable young woman at The Calgary Homeless Foundation, Meaghan Bell, created a Client Advisory Committee as a forum for people with lived experience of homelessness to provide feedback and insight into CHF’s policies, practices and programs. Yesterday, along with Meaghan and co-worker, Nicole Jackson, five members of the Committee gave a noon-hour presentation on their recent findings from a Community Consultation they held to gather community feedback on the 10 Year Plan to End Homelessness to date.

It is easy for the ‘experts’ to gather around a boardroom table to discuss best practices and research in ending homelessness. The intent is laudable. The actions admirable. But, do they work? What is their impact on those for whom they are being designed to serve? The Advisory Committee is the critical client voice that measures the ‘on the street’ impact of the work.

In the community consultations, there was much evidence that the focus on moving people from shelter to housing was imperative. It isn’t that shelters don’t do the job they are designed to do. They do admirable work in a very stressful environment. For people experiencing homelessness, however, getting stuck, feeling lost, experiencing confusion, isolation, marginalization and depression are real and debilitating factors in their lives. Through the inherently unstable and chaotic nature of emergency shelter, these aspects of homelessness are exacerbated. In addition, given that within the shelter system there isn’t a standard of care that all shelters must adhere to, people experience different levels of care at each shelter and sometimes from staff member to staff member.

Not knowing ‘the rules’, inconsistencies in level of care, feeling voiceless and powerless, were common responses to the question, “What’s not working?”

Of the five members of the committee who came to present, one is still living in shelter, with another individual in transitional housing waiting for a placement in permanent housing. Two of the individuals found housing through their own efforts with one being housed through CHF programming. However, one individual’s program was ending which means he is again working with an agency to secure new housing. The other is a senior who is currently on a waitlist for affordable housing so that she does not need to spend 60% of her income on housing, an aspect of life she claims is not uncommon for seniors living in poverty.

Throughout their presentation, the group was articulate, organized and passionate. Most of them have worked with the Committee for a year or more and care deeply about their peers whom they represent. This was poignantly apparent when one of the presenters talked about some of the responses attendees at the Community Consultation had written on the sheets that asked the question, “Who are you?”

“They answered, mother, father, artist, carpenter, kind, hard-working, and then one person wrote, ‘I am a human being’,” one presenter commented, obviously distressed by the answer. “Why does anyone have to write that they are a human being? Aren’t we all?”

“Several people wrote that,” another presenter chimed in.

We all share a desire to be heard, to be seen, to be known. Within homelessness however, there is often a feeling of being dehumanized, stripping each person of the one thing we all share, our human condition. 

It is a sad reality of homelessness. The very condition that we all share, the one irrefutable truth about each of us, is what people feel they lose in this place called homeless.

I was in awe yesterday. At the end of their presentation, each presenter shared a bit of their ‘story’ and what they are most passionate about. It was inspiring, enlightening and humbling.

No matter the condition of their lives, each individual is working with the committee to give back, to make a difference, to make life better for others. They didn’t rant and rave about the injustice of the homeless condition, they didn’t strike out against government and agencies and their fellow man. They spoke up for dignity, human caring, the right of every individual to be treated with respect, consideration and fairness.

And in their voices, I was moved to tears. In their courage, I was humbled.

I wasn’t alone.

One of my co-workers, a man who has come from the corporate sector to assist in building our housing portfolio stated at the end that meeting them, listening to their presentation and hearing their stories had changed him. “You have helped make me become better at my job, and be a better human being,” he said.

We all have a story. We all have wounds we carry close to our hearts, hurts and pains we harbour beneath our skin. We are all the same kind of different in our being human.

Yesterday, I witnessed five remarkable human beings stand in the light. Through their sharing, they illuminated the path so that others could see their way to the heart of ending homelessness.

I am grateful.

In the stillness of the morning, my mind casts off sleep and tethers my thoughts to day’s awakening.

In the quiet of dawn’s approach, I sit and type beneath the golden glow of my desk lamp as the darkness outside thins with each moment passing by.

In the quiet I feel my heart beating. I feel my body moving, the bones within each finger stretching with every letter I type, reaching out from a to z to connect the dots and create a picture for my day.

Awareness of this moment embraces me. Awareness of this moment passes into the next, second by second. And I awaken.

These are the moments of my morning. This is the quiet beginning of my day. I am grateful.

I like the morning. Always have. As a child, I seldom slept in. My body seemed to be wired to the dawn.

When my daughters were little, I was the one up at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning while the whole house slept. Still am.

For me, morning-time is a time for reflection, for preparation. And anticipation.

It is the time of day when I ask myself, “What kind of day do I want to have?” “What kind of day do I want to create?”

What is my intention for the day?

My blog-friend Ann Koplow, shares photos today on her blog of her experience of intentionally walking around yesterday looking up. It’s well worth the visit to see what wonders she found simply by raising her head and eyes to see what was all around her as she journeyed through her day in Boston where she lives. Some of what she saw was always there, just unnoticed. Some, like the clouds, are passing whimsies created by nature. All are breath-taking and heart-stirring.

I like the idea of intentionally walking around looking up and taking photos of what I see. So often, I am lost in thought when I walk, or my eyes are focused on the ground before me — a necessity in the past few weeks as ice covered sidewalks everywhere! — that I don’t always see the world around me. I don’t see the people passing by. The artwork on walls. The clouds above. The magic and wonder all around.

In every moment, there is always time to look up and see. Really, really see.

Years ago, when I was healing from the relationship that almost killed me, I used to take Ellie the wonder pooch for a walk into the forest at the end of the street where I lived. My heart was broken in those days. My thoughts foggy. To remind myself of the possibilities within each moment, I would walk through the forest and consciously lift my head to look up into the sky stretched far above the towering pines. I would stop and stand still and listen to the whisper of the pine needles, the birds tweeting, the tiny forest creatures rustling beneath the deadfall and see. Really, really see the sky far above.

In that act of lifting my head and focussing on the infinite expanse of sky above me, my heart would lighten, my thoughts would clear and I would feel peacefulness envelop me. In the lifting up of my eyes, I felt the hopefulness shimmering all around me and the limitless possibilities of the day stretching out before me. 

And in the quiet of simply standing in the forest and seeing the wonder all around me, gratitude arose and darkness vanished into light.

I still do that now. Stop and simply look up to feel and see and sense the moment all around me. Albeit I don’t do it as frequently, but many years later,  just the act of tilting my head back and looking up into the sky above always reminds me that now is not forever. The possible exists in every moment.

In the quiet of the morning, I contemplate the day awakening and set my intention for the day.

Let me see, with my whole heart, let me feel with my whole being, the wonder all around. Let me see into the hearts of those around me the beauty of their spirits shining. Let me see the possible, know the promise, feel the passion in every breath I take.

Namaste.

Veiled Dreams
Acrylic & Mixed Media
©2014 Louise Gallagher

I started a painting. Some might have thought it was done. In fact, one friend did. But it didn’t feel complete to me. It felt like just the beginning.

So I asked for a dream to show me the path, to give me the story to fill it in.

When I awoke, the story began….

On the river, she felt at peace. There was no need to change directions, to shift course. A river never flows backwards and she always felt like the river was moving her in the right direction, no matter where it took her.

There was a tiny part within her, a germ of an idea, a yearning, a wish to be part of the sea of life flowing all around. But the river was seductive. The river held her in its flow, far from shore, always moving. Always flowing towards the sea.

One day, while lying on her wooden raft, drifting upon the surface of the water, she noticed an oar floating towards her. She reached out and caught it as it floated by. She put it on the raft beside her and stared at it. She wasn’t sure exactly how to use it. She wasn’t sure what to do with it. But she liked the design on its wooden handle. She liked the feel of the smooth wood beneath her fingers. And she liked the words carved upon its handle, “Fear robs you of life. Love gives you life. Surrender your fear and fall wholeheartedly into Love.”

She had loved once, and lost. She would never love again, she had decided long ago. She didn’t believe in Love. Didn’t trust it. Love hurt. She was determined to never be hurt again. The light of day gave way to darkness and she fell asleep. Normally on the raft, her sleeps were deep and dreamless. But this night, she dreamt of a great city rising up out of the forest that edged both sides of the river. There were people in the city. They were laughing. Dancing. Singing. They were happy.

She wanted to find them but had to reach the shore. She picked up the oar and began to paddle until eventually, in spite of the river’s pull, her raft bumped up against the sandy beach and she stepped off the raft’s hard smooth surface onto the cool sands. Slowly, carefully, she began to walk through the forest towards the sounds of laughter she could hear far in the distance. As she walked through the forest, birds sang and flitted amongst the trees that were adorned with leaves that shimmered in the sunlight that filtered through the branches. Flowers grew in sunny meadows and deer and other forest creatures grazed on the green, green grasses.

Eventually, she came to the edge of the forest, to the place where a beautiful city of sparkling glass and shiny steel grew up into the sky. Everywhere she looked, people walked and rode bicycles and enjoyed the sunshine and the day. They were happy.

She didn’t understand. How could they be so happy? What were they laughing and singing about? Bemused by all the joy she felt in their midst, she walked from the forest’s edge into the city. What she saw amazed her. People greeted each other with hugs. People shared the food they had, never holding on to more than what they needed to feel complete, enough, full.

Confused by the beauty she witnessed everywhere she looked, she became frightened. She didn’t trust beauty. She didn’t trust people. What if it was all a lie? A dream?

Her fear washed over her. Frightened, she turned to run back through the forest to the river’s edge but the way was blocked. Where once there was a road, a darkness had descended. She turned back towards the city and again there was light and laughter.

She didn’t understand. Looking back, there was only darkness. Looking forward, there was only light.

And then she awoke. Morning had broken. Sunlight streamed down and warmed her skin. She felt the pull of the river dragging her along. She felt the sadness of being adrift begin to descend as her dream began its journey back into the mists of memory.

Lying back against the hard wood of the raft, she reached one hand out to touch the paddle she had rescued from the water the day before. She ran her fingers along the design etched into its handle and felt the ridges of the words inscribed into it. “Fear robs you of life. Love gives you life. Surrender your fear and fall wholeheartedly into Love.”

She remembered the city. The people smiling. The beauty and laughter and joy.

Fear called her back. Fear pleaded with her to let the river keep pulling her out to sea.

But once truth is seen, there is no hiding from it. There is no undoing of truth. The river continued to flow towards the sea, but on this day, with the sun caressing her skin and the birds singing in the trees on the distant shore, she picked up the oar and began to paddle her way towards the shore.

And now, the painting continues, and so does the story.

This is how dreams unfold.

This is how magic begins.

The is where trusting in the process takes me.

This is where creative expression awakens.

Last week, on my “I did it my way.. and my way wasn’t working” post, my friend Ian, who writes thought-provoking and insightful posts on leadership over at Leading Essentially, posed the question,

“What I’m wondering about is the need to rebel against oneself. When we say what we mean to ourselves (and subsequently do what we say) are we paying attention to which internal voice is speaking? Is it our essential voice that guides us from the heart which deserves our faith? Or is it our adapted (that which you refer to as the critter voice) voice that tries to tie us to our past, keep the status quo? That voice is often worthy of internal rebellion!”

It is a good question. Which voice do I listen to and which one am I rebelling against?  My essential voice that guides me from the heart, the voice that knows the true essence of my magnificence and never questions the miracle of life? Or, my adapted voice that holds onto memories of why it’s not safe to play big, why it’s best to keep small and quiet and not rock the boat?

I believe that often, when I am acting out, it is because I am rebelling against the idea of being great. I don’t want the responsibility nor the commitment to being my best at all times. The critter tells me, it’s too tiring to always be on purpose. It’s too much to expect you to turn up for your higher good at all times. Why not take a break?

This morning, I stepped onto the scale and even before I did, I knew the news would not be good. Sure enough, 2 lbs more than last week.

Not a big deal. It’s only 2 lbs, the critter says with authority.

My essential voice whispers quietly in the deepness of my soul. “Do you feel better or worse right now knowing you’ve not kept your commitment to living true to your body’s needs for healthy food, exercise and care?”

I would like to rebel against my essential voice’s quiet assurance. Seriously? It is only 2 lbs. But my essential voice is right. How do I feel about me, right now? It’s not about the pounds. It’s about the actions that have led to the pounds piling up. It is 2 on top of the previous 2 on top of the previous 2. And each 2 has resulted in my critter’s cajoling me to accept my lesser self’s desire to be lazy, uncommitted and unfocused. Each 2 has been a result of my critter having its way in my head because I’ve been rebelling against doing what is best for my higher good.

If I am to rebel, it is best to rebel against the one who would keep me playing small. Keep me acting out against my higher good.

And sometimes, “it’s just too much work,” the critter says. “Take the path well-travelled.”

Alas, in my desire to take the path well-travelled, in my need to let myself off the hook of self-responsibility, I undermine my own well-being. I let go of my own higher good.

It is an interesting conundrum. In my rebellious desire to treat myself with ‘kindness and ease’, I am actually being unkind. I am not holding myself accountable and responsible for my own well-being.

My essential self knows that living in the beauty of my magnificence, there is no question too hard, no step too big that I cannot make. In the light of my essence, all is ease, all is achievable, all is in balance.

My critter self. Well… he likes to hold me down. Not because it’s best for me. He does it because he’s afraid I’ll get hurt if I step too far, leap too high, shine too bright. Remember when you were a child, he says, and you danced, and sang and drew and played like no one was watching? And remember when people started to watch and told you to be quiet. To settle down. To quit thinking you were so shiny and bright? Remember? You got into lots of trouble for being so ‘loud and obnoxious’. You don’t want to get in trouble now. Trouble’s not good. Settle down. Toe the line. Be quiet.

My critter self, even though he repeats all those awful things I’ve learned to believe about myself over the years, is not trying to make trouble. In his twisted reality, playing small keeps me out of trouble.

My essential self knows the truth. The trouble comes when I let go of my light and choose to stand in the shadows of living life inside the walls of my comfort zone.

My essential self knows, this is my one and only life. I deserve to live in the light of Love and when I do, there is no need to rebel against the darkness. In Love, the light shines through every crack.

There is no place called “Grown-Up”. There is no destination, no road that leads you there.

‘All grown-up’ is just an idea, a thought, an illusion.

We are who we are, where we are, whatever our age. Wondering what I’ll be, or how I’ll do when I’m all grown-up, is like trying to remember a dream. It keeps slipping away into the light of reality, ever present in the moment right now, just not clear enough to hold onto.

Trying to hold onto the thought of what happened in my sleep, or how I’ll be at some future date holds me back from living with intention in the moment right now. Like trying to remember a dream, I focus my thoughts on imagining some mystical time when self-doubt, or confusion, or lack of clarity or whatever is holding me back from living my dreams now, does not exist. And in the process of imagining what I want someday, I lose sight of the infinite beauty and miracle of this moment right now where I have everything I am, everything I need, to be me.

Don’t wait for some day to find you. Choose your some day now.

Years ago, when I had started an art program at the homeless shelter where I used to work, there was a lovely man who sat every day in the big open area with all the other clients and painted. He ignored the noise, the chaos, the fights, the yelling and simply did his thing. Everyday I’d ask him if he wanted to come up to the studio space and paint with us. “It’s quiet and beautiful and really welcoming,” I’d tell him. And every day for weeks of my asking, he’d demur. “It’s not a good time,” he’d say and I would leave and come back the next day and ask again.

One day, after another of my entreaties, he said, “One day, soon.”

“Do you have a date set?” I asked.

“No,” he replied.

“Then why not choose today?”

He came up to the studio that day. Many years later, he continues to create everyday. He continues to stretch his creative muscles, explore his inner core and express himself in unique and beautiful ways. He is still homeless but the state of his living condition doesn’t stop him from being his creative expression with every breath.

He is an inspiration to me. He doesn’t wait for the right time, or the stars to align to express his creativity. He chooses to express it now, where ever he is at.

Being all grown up, at peace, happy, letting go fo anger, regret, unforgiveness, isn’t about someday. It’s all about the choice of embracing what I want now. It may not feel comfortable. It may not feel natural. But choosing it and choosing to express myself through what I want more of in my life, creates a different state of being, and in a different state of being, miracles happen right now.

I woke up this morning feeling edgy, like the wrong side of the bed had rolled over onto me and tossed me out into the day before I was ready to let go of sleep. In my slightly agitated state, I wanted to find peace, but peace was having a hard time finding me. I chose to meditate, to move into the calmness at the core of my being present. In my choice to be with peace, peace awoke and I found myself at one with peace.

It was a good reminder. Don’t wait to be at peace. Be at peace now.

It’s not the job of peace to find me. It’s my responsibility to choose to be the all that I can be in this moment now. When I let go of waiting for someday to arrive I find myself awakening to miracles all around.

I wanted to be peaceful. I chose to be at peace. Whatever you’re seeking, don’t wait for it to find you. Choose to be with it, of it, in it, now.

Namaste.

Dare to unfold your dreams
Louise Gallagehr 2014
Acrylic & mixed media
10 x 10″

When I am looking to change something in my life, I need to check if my will is engaged.

It’s all part of the Tower of Power.

I wish.

I want.

I can.

I will.

I wish I was fit again is part of my desire to live a healthy, balanced life.

I’ve let my physical well-being slide. Sure I can still climb 3 flights of stairs without getting winded, but I’m not doing a lot of muscle building activities, or yoga, to achieve balance and harmony in my world. My Dharma is out of whack.

In my desire there is no power unless I move from the place of wanting or desire in the tower to the position of power in my WILL.

I WILL get fit is still not igniting my imagination though until I get specific.

I WILL go to yoga three times a week is close — but I still haven’t specified when. I haven’t checked my calendar and named the time.

Getting from Desire to Action is a conscious and physical move. It requires three very important aspects.

Attention. Clarity. Commitment.

I have thought about ‘getting fit’ for quite some time. One of the things I realized was I was using past-tense a lot when thinking about fitness. I used to run an hour a day. I used to train for the marathon. I used to have the time…

Time hasn’t changed its pace (even though some days it feels like it) and I am not really any more busy than I was in the past. In fact, in many ways, I’m less busy. My daughters are adults. They no longer live at home. The commitments I have are all around my life and what I spend my time on for me.

Where does the time go?

Fact is, it isn’t about time.

It’s about my lack of clarity and attention on my desire to ‘get fit’.

If I isolate time, I see that my evenings are often wasted on watching television. I get home from work, I tell myself I’m tired, I need to veg out for a bit and will sit down with C.C. to watch a show. One show turns to two and suddenly I discover the entire evening is gone.

Problem is… watching television makes me more tired than when I started. It drains my creativity. It stunts my imagination and sucks my energy right out of me.

I’m clear on that. I know it. Yet, I’m still doing it.

Along with the clarity, I need to put my attention on what I want — big picture.

Big Picture I want to feel healthy, fit and strong.

To get from the little to the big, I need to bring my WILL to bear.

I need to make a plan.

OK. Get that. What’s my plan?

For me, many a goal has been lost because I’ve thought I should be able to attain it with one giant leap. In the clarity of that thought, I see what I need to do. Baby steps. Begin with small acts of wellness that when added together will become one big thing.

Do I want to run another marathon? A 10 kilometre race? Or, is it that I want to be able to feel the benefits of walking outside for an hour every evening?

What is my ‘win’? What do I want?

I want to feel healthy, fit, ALIVE!

I want my body to be strong, flexible, active.

Time to engage my WILL.

Time to pay attention to what I want more of in my life, get clear and get committed to making it happen.

I WILL…

Go to Yoga (or do a Yoga video) 2x a week for the next 4 weeks. Up it to a minimum of 3x a week for the next 4 and then 3+ after that.

Wait….. what time? When? Be clear.  Every Saturday morning to begin. Every Tuesday evening after work.  (I am allowed to add on sessions. I will not subtract.)

I WILL…

Walk half an hour a day, minimum, outside, every day — even if Ellie can’t come. (Ellie the wonder pooch is no longer able to go for ‘walks’. She can toddle along but maximum is 10 minutes. She’s on new medication but it is not really making a difference to her back leg. She’s torn the ACL and surgery is not a possibility given her age and anxiety around anything strange and new and unusual — and surgery is all of those!) This is easy to do at lunch time when I’m downtown. My office is just a couple of blocks from the river. (Note to self: take a pair of running shoes to the office and keep them there.)

I WILL…

STOP watching TV every night. I don’t like it. Never have. But I’m doing it. It’s my lazy response to staying out of the zone of WILL.

What about you? Where are you not bringing your WILL to bear to get what you want in your life? Where are you lacking in Attention. Clarity. Commitment.

One of the things I love about coaching at Choices is that, even after 8 years of being in the room fairly often, I still get ‘AHA!’ moments. Those moments of brilliant clarity that let me see deep into myself. Moments that illuminate how I am, and what I do in the world the things that aren’t working for me.

Coaching as much as I do has helped me to align my thinking with my doing. It has also helped me see where I am out of alignment.

On Thursday, there is a process that teaches the lesson of taking care of yourself first, of giving yourself what you need to be able to be of service to the world.

I have been in the room as that game was played many times, yet this time, something hit me that I hadn’t realized before.

When I played the game as a trainee, I played it my way. Sure, I’d made a commitment to myself on the first day that I would play at 100%. That I would do what was asked, and give it my all. Thelma Box, who was facilitating when I was there, had said she would not ask anyone to trust her, because she recognized that we didn’t know her, and had no reason to trust her. “We won’t ask you to do anything you can’t do, and definitely not anything that is immoral or illegal. Trust the person who asked you to come,” she said. “Trust that they love you and wouldn’t want to see you hurt.”

I knew my girlfriend who had sponsored me would never do anything to hurt me. She’d helped save my life when I was in that dark and painful relationship that almost killed me. I knew she loved me. And I trusted her. I had promised her that I would give the program my ‘all’. I would play hard, participate, and dive in.

What I realized last week was that I had lied to myself all the way through.

I didn’t play the game as asked. I played it my way. And while it didn’t hurt anyone other than myself, the fact I had weaseled out of a commitment I’d made to myself, was a reflection of how I was doing other things in my life, and still sometimes do.

When I was a little girl it was one of my mother’s constant complaints about me. “Why do you have to do it your way?” “Why can’t you just do what I tell you?”

I am, at heart, a rebel. It is my nature. I like to find my own path. I like to create my own waves.

Problem is, I have sometimes let my rebel nature undermine my word.

And that doesn’t work for me.

Eight years ago, when I played the game, I chose to ignore what the rules were and did it my way.

It worked. Well… kinda, sorta. I got what the game represented for me at the time.

That wasn’t the issue.

The issue was — I did it my way and ignored my commitment to participate at 100% — which meant playing the game as asked.

How many times in my life do I do that? Listen to what someone is asking me to do, and then, circumvent the rules, twist their meaning and do it my way anyway? — even after I’ve made the commitment to do it in another way.

Doing it my way is good — as long as I’m honest with my word.

What struck home this past week was how I said one thing — and did another.

And that doesn’t work for me.

It creates less of what I want in my life, because when I commit to doing it one way, and then, do it my way anyway, I am letting go of my commitment. I am not being true with my word.

The important thing is to be honest with my word. To stand up to my commitments — starting with the ones I make to myself. If I started out with being clear with my intention that I would do it my way, it’s not an issue.

It’s the making the commitment and doing it my way anyway that doesn’t work.

Don’t get me wrong. I like being a rebel. I think the world needs more rebels. We need people willing to break out of ‘the box’ to find new paths to create a loving and kind and compassionate world. I think we need to step out of the worn and tired path of conventionality to spark our imaginations and creative expression. For me, that’s important.

What I realized last week though was that my habit of trying to ‘fit in’ while judging what was going on and then, ignoring my promise to participate fully and doing it my way anyway, is what wasn’t working for me.

Be true with my word. Speak up. Speak the truth. Always.

I don’t know what I would have gotten out of the process when I originally did it if I’d done it the way I was asked. I do know today that it wasn’t about the process, it was all about the judgements I carried as I did them. I thought I knew better. In my smug arrogance, I let myself down. I didn’t keep my commitment. I didn’t keep my word.

I am grateful, and filled with joy. I saw something about myself I’d missed. I learned something about my way of doing that I can see today, doesn’t always work for me. In the light of knowing, I get to let go of what doesn’t work in my life and recommit to myself to turn up, pay attention, speak the truth and stay unattached to the outcome.

I get to begin again.

Always begin again.

To be open. Honest. True and Loving.

Always begin again.

I like to give. I like to share. My time. My words. My insights. My gifts. Myself. It is how I express, Love.

I’m not so good at receiving.

This fact hit home last week when, while talking to a friend about the book,  The 5 Love Languages, by Gary Chapman, I mentioned how while my primary love language is Acts of Service, I have difficulty receiving in my language. 

“How do you fill your cup?” my friend asked.

Good question.

Giving is receiving. It’s true. I receive so much writing here every morning. Clarity. Learning. Sharing. Connecting. Friendship. An opportunity to live on purpose. A chance to grow and deepen my understanding of who I am and how I am in the world — and to share other people’s feelings, thoughts, ideas. It is a gift.

In the 3-D world, the place I live everyday, I like to give. I’m not so good at the receiving end of the equation. Which means, there’s little balance in the equation — and the universe loves for it all to add up to equal Love on every side of the equation.

Recently, at a dinner party here at the house for my youngest daughter’s birthday, I got a spasm in my lower back and eventually, realizing that my constant grimaces of pain were not only making my guests uncomfortable but also making me cry in public (something I do not like to do, thank you very much!) I had to leave our guests and go lie down. “You need Robaxacet,” a friend of my daughter’s said.

But I didn’t have any. “I’ll go to the drug store and get you some,” she said.

“Oh no,” I demurred. “Don’t do that. You’re here to enjoy the party. I’ll just take an Advil and lie down for a bit.” And I snuck off to our bedroom and lay down. As long as I didn’t move, my back was quiet. But one little move and it felt like someone was setting fire crackers off deep in my butt. I lay in the dark and waited for the Advil to kick in. It wasn’t happening.

And then, the door opened and two of my daughter’s friends walked in with a glass of water and a box of Robaxacet. They’d driven to the drug store to buy me some.

I felt blessed. Cherished. Loved.

It was a beautiful gift. I had to ‘get conscious’ about my tapes firing around how I had caused them trouble, put them to too much bother. I had to receive, without pushing away their gift.

It was the integrity-filled thing to do. I wanted to honour their gift and all my protestations of ‘you shouldn’t have’ would only have diminished their thoughtfulness. They didn’t deserve that.

Neither did I.

C.C., my beloved, gets up every morning and makes me a smoothie. When I’m coaching at Choices this is a particularly challenging for him as he is definitely not a morning person, and Choices mornings begin early. I want to tell him, “don’t bother,” “I’ll be fine,” “I don’t need one,” but that actually would not be true. I love his smoothies. They balance my day. They set me up with a healthy start to the morning. To push away his gift would be to negate his act of love, and deny myself receiving his gift in my love language.

Why would I do that? What’s in it for me to not receive in the language of my heart?

To not receive with grace is mostly all about ego. It’s all about self-denial. About listening to the critter reminding me about how I don’t deserve, am not worthy of, or simply not important enough for others to do for me what I love to do for them.

I am learning.

I am growing.

I am expanding into grace.

Giving is receiving. and the corollary of that is, Receiving is giving.

To receive is to give what I want most for people to have and know — I honour their presence. I value their gifts. I love them.

To push away their acts of service, to deny their words of affirmation (which is my second love language), is to say — you’re not important. You don’t matter to me. I don’t ‘see’ you.

And that’s not true. And it’s definitely not what I want to create more of in my world.

I want the people around me to know I see them, hear them, love them. I want them to feel visible and loved, and real in my presence. I want them to know, I honour and value and cherish everything about them — and that includes the things they do for me, their acts of service, their words of affirmation, the sharing of themselves and their many gifts.

Giving brings me great joy. Learning to receive fills me up with Love. What a blessing.

Namaste.