Monthly Archives: August 2019

Listening to My Heart Song

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No. 3 — the Heart Song Series

We all have a song within our hearts. Sometimes, we hear it and let it be our guide. In our busy world, it can sometimes be challening to listen in.

Since leaving the formal workforce two and a half months ago, I am tuning into my Heart Song. it is a lovely, soul-envigorating, life-inspiring process. Some things I’ve noticed as I’ve ‘turned in’ since starting this rejuvenation journey, post-retirement:

  1. My internal clock seems to have reset itself — I don’t wake up at 5:30 anymore. My clock seems to think 7 is a much more reasonable hour to awaken. I totally agree!
  2. My breathing comes more easily — towards the end of my ‘out-there’ professional career, I was having trouble catching deep breaths. The stress has lifted and I feel much more relaxed.
  3. There’s no time limit on creative expression — As an example, I take longer to create my blog in the morning. I’m not as focused on ‘gettin’ ‘er done’ as I am on creating words and images that reflect where I’m at. It’s not that I didn’t do that in the past, it’s just I don’t hurry through the process anymore and now savour the creation.
  4. There is no end to creativity — I’m feeling my creativity expanding, which is seriously exciting for me. I know I’m a creative but in this post-r/rejuvenation place, I am ‘seeing’ the world through much softer, more colour soaked eyes and seeking out beauty where ever I go.
  5. Being a’life learner’ brings me joy — In my ‘courses’ file on my computer, I have several courses I’ve purchased and downloaded that I’ve never gotten around to completing. Time seemed less ‘available’ in the past and so, while I wanted to immerse myself in the learning, I didn’t give myself the opportunity. Now, I’m working through them. Most of them are ‘art’ related and are expanding my creative expression. One course I’ve just started (this week) is a Contemplative Photography course which lasts an entire year. I’m excited to explore the coursework with my fellow contemplatives.
  6. There is beauty in each step — My walks with Beaumont are longer and more energizing. I don’t hurry to the park and home. We saunter and check out the world around us, watch the river flow, the paddle-boarders, the rafters, the ducks and geese. A walk takes as long as a walk takes.
  7. Cooking is another form of creative expression — I am spending more time reading recipes, creating meals, immersing myself in culinary arts. And I am loving it.

Perhaps though, the biggest shift, or transformation as Val of Find Your Middle Ground named it yesterday in her response to my blog, is that I am consciously being more gentle with myself. Rather than ‘give myself heck’ for struggling at times in this rejuvenation journey, I am learning to breathe into the opportunities for growth and to find value in the struggle.

Like a caterpillar transforming into a butterfly, I must first listen to my heart. From the quiet centre of my heart, I create space for my dreams to awaken and grow into the beauty of my life unfettered by inner chatter that would have me believe I must do it all, now, and do it all perfectly.

I am becoming kinder to myself. And that’s a beautiful thing.

___________________________________

Over the past few days I have been creating a series of ‘Heart Song’ paintings. In their creation, I have been inspired to create a half day workshop on ‘Discovering Your Heart Song’.  Stay tuned for more info as I open the doors to my studio to share with others my joy and love of creative expression so that they can discover their Heart Song.

 

Do you struggle against change?

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I am struggling.

Struggling with the sense of not having a purpose. Of not having ‘a job’, something that defines me, that acts like a pin on a map, showing people ‘this is where I fit in’.

It’s an odd place, this place of struggle. I know it’s been less than 3 months since I left the workplace, since I hung up my “I’m a leader, changing the world of homelessness” nameplate, and I know, that’s not a long timeframe.

But it still doesn’t make ‘the struggle’ any easier.

Oh, on the surface you can’t see it. I’m busy, doing things, organizing, clearing out rooms and garages and basements. Setting up my studio, riding my bicycle, walking my pooch, cooking and entertaining, painting and creating.

But I struggle with my sense of ‘meaning’, or lack thereof.

And I know me.

Yesterday I heard about an ED role in an organization that was interesting. And I thought… maybe I should apply!  (Yes I know. Aren’t I fascinating! And amusing.) 🙂

See, when I find myself in the dissonance of my discomfort, I look for solutions out there. I seek soothing from external sources in a quick fix mindset that says, “Here honey. This external recognition/ occupation/activity will make you feel better real quick.”

Reality is — external gratification is fleeting. It seldom soothes the core of inner dissonance, offering up instead transitory mental, in-the-moment of the discord, appeasement.

And I breathe.

Struggle is part of the journey. It is not all of it. It is integral to it though as I learn new ways of being present in my life, new paths of travelling to find grace, patience, joy and wonder in my new world of possibility.

Struggle is good. As long as I don’t allow it to become a means to escape, or deny, or avoid or defend against growth.

Growth is part of living.

Growth is inevitable.

It’s up to me to determine how I grow. How much. In what direction. It’s my job to find its value, meaning, possibilities. I can let it drive me into withering, or propel me into creative expression I never before dreamed of as possible in my life.

I am standing in the dissonance of my discomfort, embracing my struggle and diving deep within to find my path through grace, joy and Love.

I am embracing growth and leaning beyond the creative edges of my knowing who I am today. I am allowing myself to feel and know this struggle as part of my journey and to celebrate its presence.

And for today, I’m into getting down and dirty with my ego as I learn to embrace all I need to learn and grow into so that I can grow lovingly and joyfully into this new way of being present in my world that I am not yet comfortable in.

I am pulling the pin of where I stand on the map of my life and setting myself free to gracefully freefloat in a sea of possibility.

I am struggling and celebrating my struggle. It means I’m growing.

And that is cause for celebration!

Namaste.

Heart Songs and other Life Journies

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I love creating backgrounds and then words to put with the background. What I’ve been noticing, however, is that I am treating my art as ‘precious’. I am worried that to actually paint/write the words onto the image might somehow destroy the image. So I hesitate.

Art-making, like life, is precious. It cannot be experienced or lived fully by being treated like it is ‘precious’. By hesitating at the edge of the field and holding back from stepping completely into the game of life.

Life must be lived in the center of its action, its messy, its hard places and rocky shores, its beautiful landscapes and stunning views that invite you to let go and fly free.

To experience life (and art-making) fully, you gotta take risks, get into the fray and duke it out with your anxieties, fears, hesitations, doubts and face, full-on, your desire to treat it as ‘precious’ when what it really is… is LIFE itself.

Namaste.

 

Sometimes, you just gotta walk away.

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On our walk to the off leash area, Beaumont and I pass through a picnic area along the river. Yesterday, though overcast and misty, a family was holding a birthday party for their young daughter, about 5 or 6 years old.

There were several young children running around the park. Pointed polka-dot paper hats on heads. Balloons streaming behind them as they ran about, each attached to a long bright red ribbon. At one point, I heard a mother say to her young son as she walked with him and an even younger son, “What good sharing Jay. Letting Luke [the younger child who was following his older brother around] have the balloon is so kind.”

And just then, the younger boy let go of the ribbon and the balloon began to rise up into the air. He stood transfixed, watching it float higher and higher, and then he began to cry.

The mother knelt down beside him, pulled him into a hug and said, “It’s okay. The balloon’s going up to play with the clouds.”

I wanted to stop and tell them, “No. It’s not going up to play. It will probably end up in some birds stomach and be the death of that bird.”

I did not stop and share my thoughts with the woman and her son.

Sometimes, the kindest thing to do is walk away in silence. Not every moment is a teaching moment.

Beau and I continued on our walk and when we arrived at ‘his park’, I let him off the leash and he bounded through the tall grasses, chasing blowing leaves and dandelion puffs.

I walked. He ran. I laughed at his antics. He kept running, his nose constantly leading him from one side of the trail to the other, into bushes and fields of wildflowers. At the trail where we usually turn to walk down to the water’s edge, I kept going straight. He looked at me. He looked at the trail to the river.

“But what about my cool drink and refresh?” he seemed to ask as he looked at me and back to the trail to the river.

“C’mon buddy. No river today,” I called out as I kept walking the other way.

He gave one last longing look at the river trail and then bounded after me.

The birthday party revellers were gone by the time we walked back through the picnic area. So was the balloon.

I don’t know how far it soared, or where it has gone. I wonder where and when it will come back to earth. How much harm will it cause on its journey?

For such a small thing, a balloon carries a big impact.

Each day, my world is filled with big and small moments to savour, to cherish, and some to walk away from.  Each thing I do has an impact. Big. Small. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.

Yesterday, I encountered a moment where my reaction lead me to walk away. Not right. Not wrong. Just an opposite reaction to an action.

Today, I choose to release my thoughts on ‘what I could have done differently’, and let my worry go like a balloon floating off into space.

Today, I think about that balloon and my walk with Beau and I remember what is most important. For that mother and her sons, it was the time together. The moments shared.

Just as that was what was important for me. Being outside with Beau in nature. Savouring the small moments.

I take a breath.

No matter the action and our reaction, it is always time to savour the moment, to reflect on our blessings and give thanks for all that is present in our lives; that which we deem ‘good’ or bad and to acknowledge, life is a gift we’ve been given to live in Love. And sometimes, in Love means walking away  in silence.

Namaste.

 

Isn’t that Fascinating? I sure think so.

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India Ink and Acrylics on Mixed Media Paper 11 x 14″ Louise Gallagher

In the quiet of the morning…

Leaves rustle
Traffic hums as it crosses the bridge
Birds sing in tree branches
Piano music plays gently in the background
Quietly, softly, I come home to my heart.

Outside my window, the river flows calmly. The BuaffloBerry bush that just a few short weeks ago was only as tall as the fence, now rises up above the railing on our second story deck.

Life flows. I flow with it.

In my heart, joy flows quietly filling in the cracks where life’s hurts have broken it open to experience the pain and wonder of being human.

My heart is stronger for the pain and healing that inevitably follows with the grace of autumn leaves falling and growing back again in spring.

A broken heart is an open heart. An open heart is a loving heart.

I let the joy flow freely, stirring my heart to beat wildly in Love with this life of mine, this world I inhabit, this place I sit in the quiet of the morning.

Yesterday, I played in the studio. I mean played. Really played.

I had no destination. No plan for what I would do. I simply wanted to play and experience the process of colours and ideas flowing. Plus, I had some new India Inks I wanted to try out. In the process, I learned something about myself that is amusing me, and exciting me.

Alcohol Ink on Yupo Paper
11 x 14″
Louise Gallagher

If you’ve been following along on my blog for awhile, you’ll know that I love playing with alcohol inks. I love the vibrancy of the colours, the free-flowingness of the process. The unpredictability of the outcome.

But, here’s the thing. There are only so many pretty paintings of flowers I can create before becoming bored, or at least somewhat tired, of the lack of challenge in the art-making.  (a little self-confession – I was challenged by the flower in the middle when I created this painting. It wasn’t working so I really had to work at creating something out of the big blob it first appeared to be — which I admit, was fun and challenging, but it still became… just another pretty flower painting…)

Because that’s the thing my playdate in the studio taught me yesterday.

I like art-making where I’m challenging myself to create something with more ‘depth’ than what alcohol inks require of me. And yes, I could create ‘real’ paintings of scenes and things with alcohol inks — it’s not the techniques that inspire my imagination. It’s the process of discernment I experience when exploring colour, shape, texture, mood, ideas… that inspires my imagination to leap and my heart to run wild.

India Ink and Acrylic on Mixed Media paper
11 x 14″
Louise Gallagher

The art may not be as ‘appealing’, but the process is definitely more heart-enriching for me.

And so, yesterday I played and deepened my understanding of what makes me tick, not just in the studio, but in life.

I like feeling challenged. I like to feel like I am growing, shifting, experimenting with what I know to expand it into the cracks where I don’t know how strong or resilient I am to discover the more of who I am when I let my heart run wild and my imagination flow free.

I’ve always known I’m an experiential learner. I’ve just never realized, the experience of art-making ignites my soul.

Isn’t that fascinating?

I sure think so.

Namaste.

 

In the meantime… I got this.

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I got busy yesterday.

Okay. So I’ve actually been pretty busy since leaving the formal workplace at the end of May this year. I have a list of ‘To Do’s’ to get to in our home and am slowly, yet certainly, checking off my list.

I know. I know. I was going to do the summer unplanned. But a list isn’t really a plan now is it?

And with my list slowly growing shorter, (and I’m not adding to it every day btw) I am feeling the pulsing, vibrant power of creative space opening up within me, calling me to GROW.

Growth is important in life, yet it is not an inevitable or inescapable part of living. We age, but sometimes, we can age without growing deeper into ourselves. Sometimes, we can continue to do what we’re doing, and as we age, shrink our horizons to a tiny box where dreams and possibility lay dormant as we spin stories of ‘what we used to do’ and lose sight of our power to create stories of all we can do, still, no matter our age.

In this space into which I am expanding and evolving I am alive with the muse calling me to delve into my creative essence and to create space for others to come alive to their creative possibilities, artist and non-artist alike.

I am falling in love all over again with me, my life and all its possibilities.

What a wild and wonderful place to find myself expanding and evolving into!

Which brings me to what I got up to yesterday.

Yesterday, I worked on our lower deck. It’s a place that sat ignored since moving into this home almost a year and a half ago. Our contractor has been using it to cut wood, to store unused materials (he’s still working on some renovations). It wasn’t that it was filled with junk. More that it was just kind of discarded; a place of sadness and ennui.

I changed all of that yesterday.

I hauled out the garbage. Piled the wood and other paraphenalia into one corner and swept it clear of debris.

And then, I set up a table with bright red chairs and a little seating area right outside my studio doors.

In the clearing up I created space for ideas and thoughts and possibilities to run wild in my heart and mind. I started getting excited about what ‘will be’ when I get clear of my fears.

‘Cause fear has been my silent, stealthy companion for a few weeks now. Fear of ‘what’s next’, what now, what if…

What I fear I create, and, because I was fearing an uncertain future I was creating feelings of uncertainty within me.

Yesterday, as I hauled out the garbage, Fear and I had a long chat about what its been up to.

“Listen Fear,” I said to it. “I see you and I know you’re really just trying to keep me safe by helping me avoid doing what my heart is calling me to do. You don’t want me to experience disappointment, rejection, and any other emotions you deem painful to my heart. But seriously Fear, I got this. I’m okay. No matter what happens, I am happiest when I am stepping outside my comfort zone, taking risks that aren’t really risks because ultimately, they’re opportunities for me to learn and grow and expand. And isn’t that what life is all about? Constantly expanding and growing deeper into knowing of who I am and all I am when I let go of fearing I will fall every time I leave the safe places of my known limitations?”

Fear was not as convinced of my capacity to weather every storm, to fly instead of fall, to take risks and put myself out there without feeling the slings and arrows of life on the exploratory journey of my life.

“But you know what happens when people see you living your dream,” Fear replied in his cautious way. “They judge you. Criticize you. Maybe even try to knock you down.”

I smiled lovingly at Fear, embraced him with Love and replied, “That’s not true Fear. Remember, other people’s opinions of me are not my business. My opinion of me counts. And, when I am living life fearlessly, taking risks and doing the things my heart yearns to experience, the only way I get hurt is by believing failure is a measure of who I am. The measure of who I am is found deep in my soul, in that place where I know I am worthy, of joy, happiness, peace, Love, just the way I am, where ever I am because I am enough.”

It was a long chat (there was a fair amount of garbage to haul out) and eventually, Fear and I came to an agreement. If he spies a Sabre Tooth Tiger or speeding train or out of control city bus racing towards me, he’ll let me know. Pronto!

In the meantime, I got this.

SPENT: Can you beat poverty?

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I took The Challenge. I clicked on SPENT, an online simulation of living life in the poverty zone.

Poverty sucks.

There’s no way to win at life, get ahead, to make the ‘ethical’ choice when the decisions you have to make always come back down to — will I have enough money to pay the rent, buy food to feed my children, pay their school fees, pay insurance, utilities and get to my minimum wage job on time.

At one point in the game, while driving my children to school, I hit an icy patch and my car slid into a parked car causing damage. I had a choice. Stop. Try to find the owner. Leave a note. Get the kids to school and be late for work (which would cost me precious money). OR. Leave the scene and hope no one saw me. Except my kids of course. They were watching from the back seat. Tracking every move I took. Learning from every decision I made.

Sure, in my non-poverty defined real life, I wouldn’t drive away. I would be accountable.

But in my real life, I have more than $326 left in the bank to take me to the end of the month 20 long days away. I earn more than $9.00 an hour.

In my real life, I have resources, resilience, possibilities.

In SPENT, I lasted 11 days before I hit bottom. And even then, if my life had been circumscribed by longterm exposure to poverty, I may not have chosen to pay for my kids field trip because that $15 made a difference between milk and bread on the table for the week, or not. And maybe I would have bought a new shirt for work when I spilt bleach on it while helping the dishwasher. At least then I wouldn’t have lost a day’s pay because my boss sent me home for ‘bad attitude’. And maybe…

That’s the challenge of poverty. “Maybe tomorrow will be better” is never an option. The decisions today are between one hard rock place and losing it all. There’s no soft landing, no cushion. There’s only rock bottom, every day.

In the game, when I spent out, I didn’t worry about what happened to my kids when we didn’t have a roof over our heads. Or all my stuff, at least the stuff I was able to salvage when I lost my home and had to move to a rental apartment. It was just a game.

But what about in real life? What really happens?

Yup. Poverty Sucks.

It sucks the life, hope, possibility out of daily living turning it into a daily grind against hard rock places that will not give you a break.

What about you? Can you beat poverty?

 

Spin Your Own Dreams

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When my daughters were little I wrote them a story about an unhappy caterpillar who cried and cried all the time. One day, his tears fell on a leaf fairy sleeping on a leaf. Surprised by the sudden rain pouring on her head, she awoke and demanded to know why the caterpillar was crying.

“I hate being a caterpillar,” the unhappy fellow wailed. “I hate it. Hate it,” and he shook his tiny body ferociously and cried some more.

“If you weren’t a caterpillar what would you rather be?” asked the leaf fairy.

“What a stupid question,” said the caterpillar. “How can I be anything else? I’m stuck in this body.”

“Well, I’m a fairy and I’ve got magic and I can turn you into anything you want,” the leaf fairy told him. She wasn’t used to being questioned so she had a bit of attitude around her response.

The Caterpillar thought about this for a moment. Magic. Hmmm… Anything he wanted…. Well in that case. “A rose,” the caterpillar promptly replied.

“Okay,” said the Leaf fairy. “Close your eyes. Here comes the magic.”

And the caterpillar scrunched up his eyes tightly and held his breath. And the leaf fairy whispered a few magic words and poof, she changed him into a beautiful red rose.

Alas, the rose was prickly and thorny. No one could get close to him. He wanted to be more… likeable. He cried again and asked to be turned into an iris.

“Okay,” said the leaf fairy. And once again, she cast her magic and he became an Iris.

The iris, however, was too blue. He was tired of being blue all the time and wanted something happier. Like being a bright, sunny faced daisy he pleaded with the leaf fairy.

The leaf fairy was getting a little put out with the caterpillar’s demands but agreed to give him a little more magic.

And once again, the caterpillar was dissatisfied. Being a daisy was sunny and bright and he had lots of arms to reach out and touch people with, but it was rooted to the ground. Everyone had to come to him!

Just then a brilliantly coloured butterfly flitted by. The caterpillar watched her in awe and then he knew what he really wanted to be. He wanted to be a beautiful butterfly with gossamer wings that shimmered in the sun, free to fly wherever he wanted.

He pleaded his case one more time with the leaf fairy. “Okay,” she said, “but this is the last magic I can do for you today.”

The caterpillar closed his eyes and waited. The leaf fairy whispered the magic words, sprinkled leaf dust all over him and when he opened his eyes anticipating wings to fly free, the caterpillar wailed in dismay. He was a caterpillar once again.

“I told you I wanted to be a butterfly,” he cried. “I hate being a caterpillar.”

“You are a butterfly,” the leaf fairy told him. “Inside you there is a beautiful pair of wings yearning to be free. But first, you must learn to spin your own dreams.”

_________________

Sometimes, I have not believed I could fly. Sometimes, I have clung to my disbelief in the possibility of change as I held steadfast to my resistance to dream. Sometimes, I have embraced the lie that I am not powerful enough to make my dreams come true, and sometimes, I have grounded myself so deeply in my fear of flying, I haven’t even bothered to try to stretch my wings for fear I will fall.

Regardless of the reasons why I haven’t catapulted my dreams into reality, when my dreams don’t come true the way I want them to, I have a choice. To find value in what is, or…. to hold still, take a deep breath, and keep on spinning my dreams into reality.

When dreams don’t come true, it’s because the dreamer spun in a different direction, changed their course, or simply gave up spinning in any direction at all or perhaps it’s because they were spinning cotton, not silk.

Today, I commit to spinning my dreams in the direction of my goals. Today, I choose to affirm, my dreams are mine to spin in every colour of the rainbow.

Today, I commit to spreading my wings. I don’t know their full extent until I reach beyond the edges of my imagination, out into the universe where dreams come true because I’m willing to spin my own dreams.

What about you? Are you willing to spin your own dreams?

__________________

For Renee.

Come. Explore.

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Her name is Imogene. Genie for short.

She’s kind of like a genie. Whimsical and mystical. Colourful. She glides through space. Navigates tight corners with ease and carries on as if no one is watching.

My Genie

Genie is my new bike. We made our acquaintance yesterday. It promises to be an interesting ride.

Acquiring Genie has been one of my post-retirement goals.

Previously in my life, I loved to run. It was a passion and an outlet. It kept me balanced. I’d run for two hours and everything in life fell into perspective. It definitely helped me not take myself too seriously!

But my feet don’t like running any more. Arthritis makes it uncomfortable.

I tried swimming but when the weather’s beautiful, as it is now, there’s nothing quite like being out on the trails, smelling the flowers, grass, trees, hearing the leaves on trees rustle with the stories of the wind as it whispers through the branches.

My Genie is tourquoise and purple. She has pretty flowers painted on her fenders and a really cute basket that can also be a totebag.

Along the bike trail.

When I was investigating bikes, I had no idea there was a whole category called, “Comfort Ride”. All I knew was that I had seen lots of people riding around on bikes that let them sit up and not hunch over. Oh, and I didn’t want something that required an engineering degree to figure out the gears.

Genie has seven gears. That’s all I need. I’m not looking to go fast nor to race. I just want to be able to ride in comfort along the over 250 kilometers of bike trails in the city, enjoying my ride.

What I really like about Genie though is how she takes me back to my English Racing Green Raleigh from childhood. I got her after my two sisters and brother were done with her and I loved her. By the time she became mine, she’d travelled all the way from England with us to Calgary when I was a child and even made the return journey when we moved back to France when I was a pre-teen.

That bike carried me places. From the Well’s farm at the end of the dirt road where we used to live, a place I loved to visit before we moved to Metz, France where I rode her along cobblestoned roadways lined with Plane trees. That bike was my ‘get out Dodge’ companion.

I have no memory of when that Raleigh left my life, but I’m grateful Genie has entered it and reminded me of my love of exploring my environs on a bicycle. I’m sure I’ll have lots of adventures to share as Genie carries me places on beautiful days like today. Oh. And hopefully, she’ll not only give me wheels to explore but the gears to also stay/get in shape!

Happy Trails!

How to make the world a better place.

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He is sitting on the floor in the middle of a mezzanine area at the mall when I see him. Backpack on the floor behind him. Elbows resting on knees. Both hands covering his ears.

He is looking down between his legs, head bowed, tucked into his shoulders.

I think for a moment he is on his cellphone. I think he’s just sitting there talking.

No one seems to be bothered by him. Or notice his presence. They walk by, skirting him. Avoiding contact.

Thoughts quickly flit through my mind.

“He’s okay. I shouldn’t disturb him. I’d only embarrass him, and myself, if I stop and ask he’s okay.”

“I don’t think he’s on his phone. Yes he is. No. His hands are simply covering his ears. You’d best stop.”

“No. Let him be. Give him his privacy. – There’s no privacy sitting in the middle of the floor in a busy mall.”

I stop, bend down. I keep my voice soft. Gentle. I touch one of his shoulders as I speak. “Excuse me sir. Are you okay?”

He doesn’t move.

“Sir. Are you okay. Do you need help?”

Slowly he looks up at me. He doesn’t say anything. He just looks at me.

“Is something wrong? Can I help you?” I ask.

“You tell me,” he replies.

“Are you okay? Did you fall down?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles.

I look around. People are walking past. No one is looking at us. I look towards the Starbucks kiosk a few feet away.

“Can I get you some water?” I ask him.

He doesn’t say anything. He’s gone back to holding his head. Staring at the floor.

“Wait here,” I tell him. “I’m going to get you a glass of water and call for help.”

I go to the Starbucks, ask one of the staff for a glass of water and to call Security. “There’s a man sitting on the floor in the middle of the foyer,” I tell the girl and I point over to where the man is sitting.

We both look. He is now lying sprawled out on the floor. People keep walking past and no one stops.

“Can you call Security please?” I ask. “He’s in some distress.” And I go back to the man and sit on the floor and wait for security.

He is unresponsive. Talking in short bursts of incoherent sentences.

I tell him my name. Ask for his.

He looks at me. Suspicious. Leary. He offers his hand. “I’m Trevor.”

I take his hand and gently ask. “Have you been drinking Trevor?”

He nods his head. Up and down. “I can drink a lot,” he says.

“How much have you had today?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer. Shrugs his shoulders.

We sit quietly.

“I don’t know what to do,” he suddenly says and he starts to cry.

“Are you feeling overwhelmed?” I ask.

And he nods his head again. Up and down. Up and down.

“Breathe,” I tell him. “Deep slow breaths.”

He gulps in air. He’s almost sobbing now.

And people keep walking by.

A security officer from the mall rides up on his bike. Parks it. Walks over to where Trevor and I are still sitting on the floor.

“Did he fall?” he asks me.

“I don’t know.” I tell him. “I was walking by and saw him sitting here and stopped to ask if he needed help. His name is Trevor.”

“Hi Trevor,” the security man says in a friendly voice. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” replies Trevor. “I don’t know.” And he covers his ears with his hands again and looks down at the floor.

The officer is young. Kind. Caring. He too attempts to ask questions. He too gets few answers.

He turns to me. “Anything else you can tell me? Did he fall? Do you know if he hit his head?”

“I don’t know,” I reply, inadvertently repeating Trevor’s response. “He says he’s been drinking. He’s feeling overwhelmed. He was just sitting here when I came upon him. He is sweating a lot though. And he’s not very clear in his speech.”

“I’ve called EMS,” says the security man.

And so the hour unfolds. A man. Lost. Frightened. Overwhelmed sits on the floor of a busy mall crying out for help.

“I don’t want to fall apart,” he says. “I’m so sorry for falling apart.”

“It’s okay to fall apart Trevor,” I reply. “Sometimes, the only thing we can do is to let it fall apart so we can find the pieces we want.”

He looks at me. Tears stream down his face. “You’re too nice,” he sobs. “Don’t be so nice.”

A police officer arrives. He asks if I’m with the man on the floor. Trevor looks up. “Oh no,” he cries quickly. “She’s not part of the problem. I am. I’m sorry to be a problem. I am so sorry.”

And the police officer quickly reassures Trevor he’s not a problem. We’re all there just trying to find out how we can help.

EMS arrive. Trevor looks at me. “I don’t want to make trouble,” he says.

“You’re not,” I reply. “The lady from EMS just wants to help you. Can you let her?”

And I move away to make room for the EMS worker.

Another officer arrives. Asks if I can fill him in on any details. I tell him what happened.

“So you were just at the mall to shop and happened upon this guy?”

“Yes.”

He smiles. “Well. Thanks for helping out. You okay?”

I smile. I don’t tell him I work in a place where this kind of thing happens every day. I smile and tell him I’m okay. “I hope Trevor is too.”

The officer nods his head. “That’s our job,” he says and smiles again. “You’re job’s done here.”

“Yes it is,” I reply and walk away leaving Trevor and those who could help him to do their job.

Life’s like that. We are on a journey, destination in clear sight when something unexpected appears on our path. I had gone to the mall to run an errand and was walking back to my car when I happened upon Trevor sitting on the floor.

I couldn’t just walk by and leave him. I had to stand in until help arrived. And maybe, sitting on that floor was the best thing Trevor could do in that moment. Maybe, sitting on the floor is his next step to getting help for whatever it is that is overwhelming him today. Maybe, my stepping in was what he needed to get out of the dark space he was lost in.

“What do you see when you see me?” he asked at one point.

“I see a fellow human being in distress,” I replied.

His eyes went wide. “You see me,” he whispered and he started to cry and my heart cried with him.

_______________________________________

As I was considering what I wanted to write about this morning, I came upon this blogpost I shared on my old blog — Recover Your Joy, several years ago.

It was a great reminder for me about what is important in life and living. And though it happened some time ago, it still rings true today.

We all have the power to make the world a better place when we stop walking on by and start caring for one another.