Monthly Archives: January 2025

The Evidence of Time

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The muse has a delightful way of weaving her magic throughout my being, even when I’m not paying attention.

Whether I’m walking along the shore, immersed in the quiet of the forest, or kneading dough for bread, her whispers find me. Like tendrils of smoke, these fleeting thoughts curl into my mind, each one vanishing as quickly as the next.

Yet, when I finally return to the page, fingers poised over the keyboard, a torrent of inspiration flows forth, like a stream rushing down a mountainside, seeking the boundless freedom of the river that will lead it to the sea.

I cannot see its source. I cannot feel its pulse. I can only respond to its urgings to let the muse flow free. Surrendering, consonants and vowls, letters and words tumble out seeking form unhindered by my manipulations. As phrases form and coalesce, and I dive beneath the surface meaning like a pearl diver seeking treasure, my creative essence transforms from a thought into reality.

Immersed in the long exhale of creative expression, my thoughts find space and air to breathe on the page; naked, exposed, vulnerable.

And in that vulnerability, I find my heart soaring, my spirits lifting and my voice rising up to sing out loud, “This is Life and I am so grateful for every moment. No matter how I label them, good, bad or indifferent, every moment is full of life teeming with possibility, adventure, hope and Love.”

What a gift!

The Evidence of Time
by Louise Gallagher

To age and not fear, 
to grow older, unburdened by worry, 
free from the whispers of wrinkles and lines, 
the creaks and aches, 
the evidence of time passing. 

To live a life where age 
holds no sway over worth, 
where spirit soars 
beyond the measure of years.

This is the defiance of our days, 
as time's river flows ever forward, 
calendar pages turning
 with quickening pace.

These are the reminders 
of the inevitable truth: 
One day, the final page will turn, 
the heart's rhythm will cease its beat, 
the last breath will softly fade, 
and the echoes
 of "I love you" will fall silent.

No magic potion halts the passage of time,
no secret formula holds back the years.

Yet, the choice remains ours: 
To live each day fearlessly, boldly, bravely, 
passionately alive, 
with wonder and awe, 
celebrating every heartbeat, 
every breath, 
every whispered "I love you," 
as precious gifts 
weaving the grand tapestry of our days
into a life well loved.
A life well lived.

If meditation is meant to be effortlessness, why is it so hard?

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I had let my morning meditation practice slip until a few weeks ago. Even though I knew my mornings flowed more smoothly after dipping into the quiet, my “critter mind” was urging me to practice avoidance, not meditation. And I’m well practiced in avoidance.

This morning, as I breathed and worked hard on letting my thoughts dissolve, they drifted in effortlessly, like clouds on a blue sky day. Pushing them away? Nope. Cajoling them into quiet? Ineffective. Corraling them into good behavior? Useless. I simply had to allow. To let go and let be.

Isn’t meditation supposed to be effortless? Isn’t it supposed to be refreshing? Why then is it so hard to simply allow? To let go and let be? Why does “the quiet” feel so elusive when it’s all I’m seeking?

Wikipedia defines meditation as “a practice in which an individual uses a technique to train attention and awareness and detach from reflexive, ‘discursive thinking,’ achieving a mentally clear and emotionally calm and stable state, while not judging the meditation process itself.”

Not judging is even harder sometimes than meditating! My “critter mind” likes to disrupt my attempts at sitting in the silence with its litany of reasons why sitting in the silence is nothing to achieve. A busy mind keeps you safe, it seems to say. And I wonder, when did running around in circles ever get anyone anywhere? (Besides maybe dizzy.)

Prayer is defined as “an invocation or act that seeks to activate a rapport with a deity, an object of worship, or a spiritual entity through deliberate communication.”

And my facile mind immediately jumps to, “For what purpose?” Why pray if it’s only to activate a connection with something or someone I cannot see? Isn’t the whole purpose of meditation to make it possible for me to live in the reality of now so that I don’t spin my wheels in the unknown?

And my awakened mind responds, “Release your judgments. Trust the process. Be still.”

And so my meditation goes. Seldom easy. Always enlightening. Stretching me beyond my thoughts into wonderment and awe at our human capacity to think, and outthink, our own thinking.

Meditation

Unbidden, thoughts drift in,
filling the mind's vastness,
a cornucopia of ideas
dancing like sunlight
on rippling water.

Prayer

Focused, thoughts ascend,
filling the universe
with yearning pleas,
seeking grace
in a world of pain and shadow.

Awake

Released, thoughts gather,
filling my being
with hopeful whispers,
calling me to presence,
to let go,
to simply be.

The Gifts of Kindness

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Photo credit: Carol Gordash Williams

According to Bruce Weinstein, PhD and author of Ethical Intelligence: Five Principles for Untangling Your Toughest Struggles at Work and Beyond, the five principles that form the core of our ethical intelligence are: Do No Harm, Make Things Better, Respect Others, Be Fair, and Be Loving. These principles, while simple to understand, can be challenging to live by, especially when faced with complex social issues like homelessness.

It’s easy to fall into patterns of judgment and indifference. We gossip, complain, and criticize. We dehumanize others with labels and stereotypes, forgetting that behind every struggle is a human being with a story. In the context of homelessness, this can manifest as fear, revulsion, or a “not in my backyard” mentality.

My work in the homeless-serving sector in Calgary brought me face-to-face with these challenges. I witnessed firsthand how the label “homeless” can evoke a tsunami of negative emotions, overshadowing the individual’s humanity. In community meetings, I often heard the phrase “those people,” a subtle but powerful form of othering that violates the principles of Respect, Fairness, and Love.

Whether it’s in a bustling city or a quiet island community like the one I live in now, homelessness exists. It might be hidden in tents in the forest or vans parked on remote dirt roads, but the underlying issues remain the same. The lack of affordable housing, inadequate mental health support, and dwindling social safety nets push people to the margins.

There’s no single solution to homelessness, but we can all play a part in making things better. Since moving to the island, every Thursday afternoon I volunteer with The Grub Huggers, a group that prepares meals for people needing food support. This simple act, fueled by community donations and a desire to help, embodies the principles of ethical intelligence. By providing a basic necessity like food, we’re not only preventing harm but also taking active steps to improve the lives of others.

Each act of kindness, no matter how small, creates a ripple effect. Whether it’s volunteering at a food bank, donating to a shelter, or simply treating someone experiencing homelessness with dignity and respect, we can all contribute to a more compassionate and just society. Let’s commit to doing our little bit, radiating kindness outward and creating a world where everyone feels valued and supported.

Namaste

Don’t Let Fear Silence Your Song.

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I joined the Island Singers last night. It’s a choir made up of people of all ages most of whom live on the island and love to sing. I was blown away by the friendliness and the quality of singing. The group’s familiarity with each other and the music created a beautiful tapestry of harmonies that swirled around me, sweet and rich like honey.

For me, though, it feels intimidating to walk into a group of experienced singers—most can read music—and let my voice be heard. My musical past is… checkered. Let’s just say my father’s insistence I play the accordion, coupled with my own teenage awkwardness, didn’t exactly foster a lifelong love of performing. Even years later, when a kind soul at a songwriting workshop offered me her accordion, my fingers fumbled on the keys, stiff and unfamiliar. Too much time, too much self-doubt.

That songwriting workshop in the early 2010’s, was the last time I sang in a choir of any sort. Lead by Eric Bibb, the incredible blues musician, I felt myself wanting to shrink into the corner when first I stepped into the music studio where the workshop was held. Surrounded by 7 professional musicans, there I stood, notebook and pen in hand, but no long list of professional musical accolades and definitely no instrument by my side, let alone the several most had with them.

And still, the community of musicians held strong, like a symonphony of chords making sweet music. They welcomed me in, put me at ease and even supported me in performing on stage the song I wrote during the workshop which Eric Bibb had set to music, “Fear Lives in her Belly”. Standing there, singing my own words, words about fear no less, was terrifying. And exhilarating. It was a glimpse of that raw, vulnerable place where true connection happens. .

Which brings me full circle back to singing with the choir. I love to sing. Mostly stopped in my teens and then, two years ago, sang in front of 250 people. At that event, I sang the same song I’d sung when I was 16, the one that only earned me more jeers and pokes from my brother. His words, like tiny daggers, had pierced my fragile teenage confidence, silencing my voice for years.

So here I am, years later, walking into the Island Singers, my heart pounding a familiar rhythm of fear. Will my voice hold up? Will I hit the right notes? Will they judge my rusty sight-reading? But there was something else too… a yearning to let that vulnerable part of me breathe. And it was in that vulnerability that I found my voice.

Surrounded by people passionate about singing and sharing song and entertaining audiences just for the sheer joy of it, confidence soared like a high note, drowning out the whispers of doubt. And in its melodious song, fear melted away, leaving a space for the quiet courage of vulnerability to emerge.

As a fellow choir member reminded me, “Sometimes I completely lose my place and have to just fake it ’til I find it again. Just keep singing along, and if you forget the words, just keep your lips moving and smile. No one will know the difference. It’s okay to not be perfect. We’re all here to support each other and just enjoy the music.”

No one will know.

No one will notice my nervousness if I keep smiling.

No one will realize my mind is devoid of the words if I keep moving my lips.

And my heart won’t dance for joy if I don’t sing and let my voice be heard.

Dancing with Shadows: Finding Light in the Depths of Our Stories

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Dive into your own story,” my novel-writing workplan instructs. I hesitate, a knot tightening in my stomach. I get it, truly, but the past has a way of clinging to shadows, doesn’t it?

It reminds me of writing The Dandelion Spirit, the story of my descent and eventual ascent out of the hell of an abusive relationship that almost killed me. Back then, I wanted to skip the messy bits and the downward spiral along with the heartbreak that led to my eventual blooming. But my publisher, wise soul that he is, insisted on context. “Show them the broken pieces,” he urged, “so they can marvel at how you put yourself back together.”

And so I did. Tears flowed, old wounds ached, but through the writing, a strange alchemy occurred. The past, once a monster lurking in the corners of my mind, became a tapestry woven with threads of resilience and hope.

“That was then,” I whispered to myself, my mantra for survival. “This is now. I am safe. I am loved. I am enough.”

Now, facing this new story, the echoes of that past resistance return. My novel, you see, dances with the shadows of my own relationship with my mother – a dance that continued long after she was gone.

To breathe life into my heroine’s journey, to illuminate her triumphs, I must first descend into the darkness of her past, a past mirrored in my own.

It’s a daunting task, this excavation of memory. But perhaps, like those ancient cave paintings, our stories – the light and the shadow – are meant to be shared, to illuminate not just our own paths, but the paths of others who yearn for healing and wholeness.

And so, I dive in. Not to dwell in the pain, but to find the glimmers of resilience, the whispers of hope that have always been there, waiting to be unearthed. Because maybe, just maybe, in the telling of our stories, we find not just healing, but a way to truly live beyond the grief and sorrow, and step into the radiant light of who we were always meant to be.

I’d love to hear from you. What stories are you working to bring to life? How are you navigating the delicate dance between past, present, and future? Share your thoughts and experiences in the comments below – let’s support each other on this journey of storytelling and self-discovery.

By sharing your story, you not only heal yourself but also offer a beacon of hope and inspiration to others. Every story matters. Like a pebble tossed into still water,
our stories of courage and triupmph create ripples that expand outwards, merging into waves of shared experience, washing over the world with love, healing, and the promise of a brighter tomorrow.

Namaste

How to ReAwaken Your Dreams

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There was a time, when I thought youth would last forever. In those days, I harboured dreams so outlandish, so far-fetched, I dared not believe in them. Instead, I let them dissolve into clouds of nothing but memory.

There was a time when my knees were strong and my body nimble, where running fast and skiing even faster was the only therapy I needed to wash away the day’s worries. In the exhilaration of feeling the wind against my skin, the earth moving beneath my feet, I felt at one with the world around me, one with the life force surging within me.

Older now, yet many years younger than I want to be when I draw my last breath and my heart loses its beat, I come full circle back to dreaming big dreams. Full circle back to knowing dreams don’t care how fast I go or how many steps I take. They only care that I take a step, and then the next, towards their unfolding.

Some things I’ve let go of to give my body the space it needs to grow older with grace. My knees can no longer run miles and miles. Skiing long ago slid into my rearview mirror as arthritis climbed into the front passenger seat, without first asking permission to share its aches and pains. With arthritis as my constant companion, I know the only way to walk each step pain-free is to take this journey with my dreams as my North Star, their light a beacon of hope and possibility.

Dreams do not rest easy in the dark. They like to take up space in the light of day, clamouring for attention. No matter how many times I have driven this road before, it is my dreams and their unfolding that ignite my passion, that leave me feeling the power of the life force pulsing through me and leave me breathless, begging for more:

Life
Vitality
Dreams

Today, I am creating new dreams and blowing life into the embers of the ones I let dissolve into clouds so long ago. In the growing power of their luminescence, I hear my heart calling me to dance like no one is watching, to sing like no one is listening, and to live my dreams like my life depends on them. It does. I do.

I am coming home to myself. Coming home to my dreams, whatever they may be. And in my homecoming, I am finding myself coming alive with possibility, hope, and dreaming.

How to reawaken your dreams:

  • Reconnect with your inner child: What did you love to do as a child? What were you curious about? Revisiting those passions can spark forgotten dreams.
  • Face your fears: What’s holding you back? Identify those fears and actively work on overcoming them. This could involve therapy, journaling, or simply taking small steps outside your comfort zone.
  • Create a vision board: A visual representation of your dreams can be incredibly powerful. Gather images, quotes, and anything that inspires you and create a board to remind you of what you’re striving for.
  • Surround yourself with inspiration: Read books, watch movies, listen to podcasts, and connect with people who are living their dreams. This can help reignite your own passion and motivation.
  • Practice mindfulness: Being present in the moment allows you to connect with your intuition and inner wisdom, which can guide you towards your dreams.
  • Start small: Break down your dreams into smaller, achievable goals. This makes the journey less daunting and allows you to celebrate your progress along the way.
  • Embrace failure: See setbacks as learning opportunities, not reasons to give up. Every “failure” brings you one step closer to success.
  • Dream outlandish dreams: Don’t let reality curb your dreaming. Dream big, bold, and audacious dreams! Then, take a step towards them. You’ll never know what will happen next until you dare to take that first step.
  • Believe in yourself: This is perhaps the most important step. Trust that you have the power to achieve your dreams, no matter how big or small.

My Struggle with Self-Care (and How I’m Finding My Way Back)

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Six days into the new year and it already feels like a rocky start. I’ve slipped on all levels of my commitment to self-care and fostering calm. It’s as if the moment the calendar flipped to January 1st, some invisible switch was thrown, and the pressure to be better, do better, achieve more, kicked the critter chatter in my mind into high gear as my inner wise woman slipped into reverse.

Yesterday, I succumbed to the siren song of junk food. The rain was coming down in sheets as I drove back from Victoria, the early morning ferry (6:20 am – ouch!) catching up with me. Each mile felt longer, each raindrop a tiny hammer against the windshield. By the time I reached Duncan, the golden arches of self-indulgence were glowing like a beacon of comfort, and the gremlin on my shoulder was whispering promises of salty, greasy satisfaction. Resistance crumbled.

And it’s not just the diet. 10,000 steps? More like 10,000 excuses. Between ferrying C.C. to Seattle and navigating the labyrinth of Canadian customs and residency paperwork, my Fitbit has been gathering dust. The book? Those 1000 words a day are mocking me from the blank page.

I find myself making excuses, defending my actions as if I’m in front of a judge. Why this need to justify? Is it the fear of being judged, of not living up to some impossible standard of “New Year, New Me”? Or is it something deeper, a fear of failing myself, of not being disciplined enough, strong enough to stick to my resolutions?

Perhaps the real struggle isn’t with the self-care itself, but with the expectations I’ve piled upon myself. Maybe calm isn’t something to be achieved, but a state of being, a way of approaching life that I need to rediscover. Maybe it’s time to take off these judgmental glasses and see the world, and myself, with a little more kindness.

Maybe, rather than loading myself up with expectations and then giving my inner critic free rein to criticize my perceived “lack” of progress, commitment, or achievement—obscuring my gratitude like a dark cloud hiding the sun—maybe I need to step fully into gratitude. Maybe I need to choose to celebrate the beauty, wonder, and awe that already exist in my world.

Perhaps counting moments that take my breath away, instead of milestones that constantly raise the bar higher, will help me focus on taking one step at a time towards my goals. And maybe, just maybe, all I need to keep my steps moving gently and calmly forward is to carry gratitude in my heart—gratitude for the journey, for the present moment, and for the abundance that surrounds me.

What about you? What would it look like to silence your inner critic and embrace the gift of this moment?

CALM Beckons

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The word that has found me for 2025 is CALM. Living here at the ocean’s edge, where the waves crash and whisper against the shore in their ever-shifting dance, CALM feels like a powerful anchor, a guiding star.

As I sat in meditation, contemplating this word, its essence seeped into my soul, hushing the clamour of my thoughts. CALM, I realized, is not a destination but a way of being, a gentle unfolding. For me, CALM represents:

  • Clarity: Seeking clarity in my thoughts, actions, and decisions, I invite peace to bloom within and radiate outwards.
  • Alignment: Aligning my actions with my values, I weave a tapestry of inner harmony.
  • Lightness: Cultivating a lightness of being, I allow joy and ease to flow through me like the tide.
  • Mindfulness: Rooted in the present moment, I create fertile ground for CALM to blossom and flourish.

Looking back on 2024, especially the whirlwind that followed our decision to leave Calgary and embrace island life, I recognize that CALM was often elusive. Amidst the chaos of sorting, packing, and moving, amidst the bittersweet farewells and the daunting unknowns, CALM took a backseat to the relentless demands of “getting it done.” In that frenzied focus, I lost touch with my inner sanctuary.

But now, I whisper, “Hello 2025.”

I am beginning anew. Beginning again to breathe in the salty dawn, to find the stillness within, and to radiate peace like the soft glow of sunrise.

Three months have passed since we arrived on Gabriola, though with visits to my loved ones in Calgary and Vancouver, I’ve spent a precious month away. As I reflect on this new beginning, I realize that two months is but a blink of an eye in the grand tapestry of time. I breathe deeply, releasing the anxious whispers that urge me to “settle in” faster, to do more, to be more.

My monkey mind, ever restless, has been chattering lately, insisting that I “get more done,” that I “get focused,” that I “get cracking.” But the truth is, I have accomplished much in these three months. Our home is cozy, most of the boxes are unpacked, and a sense of belonging is slowly taking root.

I adorned our home with festive cheer, baked cookies and cakes, and crafted small gifts from the heart. I even wrote two short stories, now whispering to be edited, and rekindled the flame of a book begun during my Irish adventure in the fall of 2023.

A dear friend once gently suggested I be kinder to myself, that I release the unreasonable demands I place upon my time and energy. At the time, I laughed, quick to assure her that I was indeed kind to myself. But in this nascent year, in this embrace of CALM, I recognize the wisdom in her words. CALM requires me to let go of expectations I would never impose on another. It is an invitation to surrender to the gentle rhythm of life, to savour each day as the precious gift it is.

Hello 2025. I am here, present and ready to embrace you, with open arms and a tranquil heart.

_______________

If you have found your word for 2025 and would like to share it, please do in the comments below! Perhaps your word will inspire others…