Author Archives: Louise Gallagher

Unknown's avatar

About Louise Gallagher

I believe in wonder. I believe we are all magnificent beings of divine beauty. I believe we can make a difference in this world, through every act, word, thought. I believe we create ripples with everything we do and say and want to inspire everyone to use their ripple to create a better world for everyone. I'm grateful you're here.

What An Adventure!

Posted on by
17
The view from our living room window
Dragon's Breath
by Louise Gallagher

Sometimes calm,
sometimes moody,
sometimes a raging mythic dragon,
silvery hair streaming like Medusa’s snakes,
turning the world to stone.

Pussycat. Lion.
Subdued. Wild.

She is wind, she is air,
she is the sea.
Calm and frothy,
rolling and roiling,
brewing a storm of sunlit spray
that crashes against the shore.

Ebb and flow,
the eternal dance.

And in it all,
she is vast and fierce,
mighty and indestructible.

We made it. Not without some hiccups along the way, but we are here, settling in, savouring island life, letting the calm and slower pace embrace us.

Sir Beaumont is in heaven. Lots of walks along the beach and in the forest — my sister, Anne, who has lived on the island for several years comes almost every day to walk him (along with helping me unpack). He loves the long windows overlooking the ocean and the deck where he likes to lie and watch out for walkers strolling with their dogs along the road, though I think he might miss the squirrels who used to play tag through the trees lining the Bow River at our old home. There don’t seem to be as many squirrels for him to chase here — but he does love chasing the waves!

I am slowly clearing the house of boxes and making ‘the mess’ into our home.

And through it all, the muse has been stirring, urging me to pay heed, to stop whatever I’m doing, to simply be still, breathe, and listen to the whispers of my heart.

A House of Many Corners

Posted on by
4

We are a house of many corners.

There is the ‘Reading corner’ in our bedroom.

Each corner has a purpose. Yet still, within each purpose was the opportunity to shift. Evolve. Change.

Sometimes, there’s a dog on the napping chaise or sprawled across the couch. Sometimes, the reading corner chaise becomes the pack my suitcase corner. Sometimes, the corner’s are just empty spaces where no one sits, or rests, reads or writes or be’s.

Let’s sit awhile and have a chat corner

Yet still, each corner holds its space in time.

The ‘Put your shoes on’ corner in the entrance..

Sometimes, the space is created because the space was empty and needed to find its purpose or, a chair just fit perfectly and suddenly the corner’s purpose was found.

The ‘Time for a nap’ corner in the living room

It doesn’t matter what use the corner is put to, each corner held space for us, along with family and friends, to savour time. Alone. Together. Apart in the same house. Time to relax. To visit. To connect. To create. Dream. Concoct. Do. Become.

My ‘Creative Work Corner’

Time simply to be present within the moment and space without time or space demanding we be somewhere else, someone else as I explored my creative boundaries, pushing them out to fill spaces I’d never entered before. Spaces, that in their exploration, healing, growth, becoming unfolded with the grace and ease of the river flowing past.

‘I just need some alone time’ corner in the alcove at the bottom of the stairs

Life is filled with corners, straight roads and curves, bumps and potholes, alleys and detours.

In life, like the corners of our home, when we are willing to shift and change, adapt and adopt, embrace and reject the things that work and those that don’t, our path rises up to greet us with opportunities to rest and relax, sit awhile and visit, meditate and savour time alone, create and dream, do and become.

As we prepare to leave this home for another, I carry with me memories of how in each of these corners, magic awoke and I found myself once again embraced by this home we created together. This home that has held us so loving and joyfully for seven years.

Soon, it will hold others in its embrace as they create their own corners and spaces to be at home.

What You See Is Not Always All There Is To See

Posted on by
4

When I captured this photo of the window washers, my focus was entirely on the three individuals suspended on the building’s side. They seemed almost unreal—ethereal, courageous figures against the glass. I stood there, observing, and my mind filled with questions about their experience in that moment. Were they chatting amongst themselves? Discussing politics? Sharing jokes? Perhaps even laughing at us tiny humans gazing up from the sidewalk? What was happening in their world?

I uploaded the image to Instagram, again emphasizing those three hanging figures. And then, my eyes caught sight of the fourth person. The one down in the bottom left corner.

I hadn’t noticed them at all when I took the photo. They were completely outside my awareness. It made me wonder how often this happens in life. How often do we become so fixated on what’s directly in front of us that we miss the subtle details happening on the periphery? The other narratives unfolding in the broader picture?

Life is a vast tapestry of people, animals, plants, and objects in constant motion. It’s a state of perpetual change and evolution. Sometimes, it’s easy to become so absorbed in what’s right before our eyes—whether good or bad—that we forget the boundless possibilities surrounding us.

And I can’t help but ponder: What story was that lone window washer telling themselves, being separate from the main action above? Did they realize they were unseen? Did they consider themselves the central figure in their own narrative? Or were they so immersed in their work that they were oblivious to everyone else, including the small group of us watching from below?

It all boils down to perspective.

We can choose to see only the obvious elements on our path or to seek out the hidden treasures at the edges. We can focus on the troubles or the possibilities. The ugliness or the beauty. The unhappy stories or the glad tidings.

Our attention and willingness to look beyond the obvious, to explore the periphery of our imagination and vision, determine what we see. It’s about acknowledging different perspectives and the multitude of stories unfolding around us.

I took a picture of three window washers, but it was the fourth one who ended up holding the most meaningful story for me.

(This is a rewrite of a post from August 2018)

Will You Cry With Me?

Posted on by
7

This morning on CBC Radio, I listen to Residential School Survivors talking about the horrific conditions they encountered while attending schools run by priests and nuns who were ordained to do ‘God’s work’. I am, again, struck by how blind, selfish, arrogant and cruel those who ran the schools were under the auspices of our government.

At the end of the program, the moderator, whose parents and other family members attended the schools, asks the question, “Will You Cry With Me?”

My heart heavy with sadness and anger, I do what I often do when confronted by the inexplicable. I write it out.

Will You Cry With Me?

Will You Cry With Me?
by Louise Gallagher

Will you cry with me? she implored. 
Mourn for my ancestors, my people 
the families torn apart
the lives destroyed
the futures stolen?

Will you shed your tears 
and bow your head 
for the lost and wounded 
the forgotten and buried 
the ones who never made it home?

Will you hear our stories 
with an open heart and mind 
leaving your judgments in the past 
where we’ve been imprisoned 
searching for your humanity to recognize ours?

Will you mingle your tears with mine 
flowing together 
so that we can heal the wounds 
of the past you cannot change 
yet must never forget, lest they be repeated?

Will you cry with me?

Awakening (a poem)

Posted on by
6

Between getting the house ready for sale and the endless stream of viewings, as well as being away for almost two weeks, life’s been a whirlwind! 😅 Like a sailor waiting for the wind, or a surfer for that perfect wave, we’re patiently (and sometimes not-so-patiently!) waiting for the right buyer to walk through our door. The uncertainty is definitely challenging, but it’s the constant “viewing ready” mode that’s truly exhausting! 🤪

And here’s the thing. Amidst the packing and clearing out, the visiting family and walking on the beach and playing with my grandchildren and baking bread for my daughter and lazing on the patio sipping wine and talking late into the night, I’ve realized that stressing about every little detail just isn’t worth it.

Life is too short to worry about fingerprints on the counters or pillows not being perfectly fluffed. I’m choosing to trust the process, and focus on living each day with passion and purpose. Cooking, laughing, and enjoying my home are back on the menu! 🥳

Because, here’s the thing… In the midst of all the chaos, I realized I have not been doing the things I know nurture and sustain me. I’ve avoided being here, writing, painting and a host of other things I love to do, that de-pressurize my state of mind, and set my heart free and my spirits soaring.

it’s time to reignite the spark! 🔥 To dream and create and explore and expand.💖

It’s time to let magic happen! ✨ It’s time to begin again and let dreams unfold and spirits rise.

Awakening

Awakening
by Louise Gallagher

Moments of sudden clarity, 
like waking from a dreamless sleep
after days spent sleepwalking, 
blind and deaf to the beauty all around.

Dark thoughts cloud the mind, 
a heavy fog obscuring the light 
beneath inertia's suffocating blanket. 
Unannounced,
a crack appears, sunlight floods in.

Warmth chases away the shadows,
fear retreats, slithering back into the darkness.
Hope blossoms in the open space,
a fragile flower pushing through the concrete.

The prison of stagnation crumbles,
the chains of self-doubt fall away.
Dreams reawaken, vibrant and alive.
No longer afraid of falling,
I rise. 
Sails full of promise, 
I soar.

Sultry Whispers (a poem)

Posted on by
Reply 
Sultry Whispers
by Louise Gallagher

Sky 
Azure bleeds to ash 
smoky haze curls and writhes 
spectral dance 
carried south on winds 
heavy with embers' breath.

Forest
Trees bow low 
leaves droop, listless 
weighted with aphids' silent feast
the forest stands weary. 

Grasses
Each footfall stirs a dust devil 
parched grasses sigh 
whispering ancient pleas 
for twilight's cool caress.

Sun
Unmoved, temperature rising
blazing sun scorches 
deaf to murmured prayers.

The photograph was taken on our drive back from Vancouver last August. The fires were blazing throughout the interior of BC and the sky was filled with smoke, ash and fiery glows.

The air quality this morning was not great, visible smoke hung in the sky above. The heat, even at that early hour, felt oppressive and heavy.

The new normal is upon us as wildfires blaze through Alberta and BC and the winds carry the smoke wherever they blow, impervious to our human entreaties.

Selling A Home-Acing an Interview – It’s all about presentation

Posted on by
10

As my beloved, C.C., and I prepare to list our house for sale (it goes live on Monday!) before our big move to a Gulf Island, I’m neck-deep in the art of decluttering, clearing out, and staging.

Staging is all about creating an illusion of space, especially in smaller homes. But it’s more than that. Our realtor says our location and river view are the stars of the show (we’re not on a floodplain!), yet I still feel the pressure to create a flawless first impression. It’s like dressing for a job interview – your chance to shine.

The sales page with its numerous photos is like your carefully crafted resume – designed to land you an interview. Then, the main living area becomes your in-person presentation: open and inviting, just like your warm smile and genuine interest in the interviewer’s questions. Of course, it’s important to not only look the part, but to act it too—ensuring your “home” reflects the qualities that make it a perfect fit for the lifestyle the buyer envisions just like how you dress for success in an interview makes you a perfect fit for the workplace.

But what about the hidden depths? I’ve tackled every closet, drawer, and cubbyhole, making them presentable and tidy. Yet, just like the quirks beneath a perfectly curated resume, I hope potential buyers don’t dig too deep! We all have our little imperfections…(like the bottles and jars that usually reside beside the sink in the master bath that get tucked away in a drawer for viewings.)

Another early morning has me pondering these parallels, inspired by the quiet whisper of the muse. It’s a reflection on time passing, on moving forward, and on presenting the best version of ourselves – or our homes – to the world.

Let’s see if this resonates with our potential buyers on Monday. Wish us luck!

The poem was written one early morning when I arose at 4 and heeded the muse’s urgings. Words flowed in the silent beauty of dawn’s rosy glow slowly seeping across the horizon.

On Loss and Love

Posted on by
1

The silky silence of night before the dawn envelops me as I sit on the deck listening to the rustling leaves of the riverbank trees. Frustrated by waking at 3am, I have come out here to savour the early morning stillness in the hopes that my mind will quieten and sleep return.

On my tiny portable speaker, which I’ve carried outside for company, the familiar melody of “Fields of Gold” wafts softly through the air, a song forever intertwined with the memory of my sister’s Ceremony of Life last December. Unexpectedly, tears well up in my eyes, tears I thought had long since dried. Sadness, a ghost I believed banished, returns with a vengeance.

Questions swirl in my mind, demanding answers: “How do you heal an emotion? How does letting it flow ease the pain when it is the very act of letting go that hurts so much?”

Perhaps the healing lies not in erasing the pain, but in embracing it. Maybe the tears are not a sign of weakness, but a testament to the depth of love that refuses to fade. And maybe, just maybe, the rustling leaves carry a whispered message from my sister, reminding me that even in absence, love endures, echoing in the fields of gold forever etched upon my heart.

On Loss and Love
by Louise Gallagher

Death
A darkening horizon
known, unwelcome, denied
the final, silent breath.

Grief
A ravenous beast
unbidden, fickle, relentless
gnawing at peace of mind

Sorrow
A river's endless flow
carving canyons in the void of loss
the search for solace's shore.

Acceptance
A tapestry woven of tears
each memory a shimmering thread
Love's enduring light.

The Language of the Soul

Posted on by
7

Perhaps it’s the unwinding of memories as I declutter and organize, or the echoes of poet and philosopher David Whyte’s words echoeing in my mind from the podcast I listened to yesterday as I worked in the garage. Or, perhaps it’s simply that my focus turns inward as I sift through the outward markings of our life in this beautiful home…

Whatever the impetus, this morning was not meant for poetry. I awoke early, completed my morning puzzles (Wordle, Connections, The Mini) and embarked on the all-consuming quest for Spelling Bee Genius status. Barefoot, I made coffee, tidied the kitchen, and took Sir Beaumont for his morning saunter.

But as I sipped my latte, sitting at my desk, looking out at the river flowing past, responding to messages on my computer, the muse beckoned. I fell under her thrall. Words flowed in that space of limitless expansiveness. Two hours later, a poem was born. Heart unburdened, now it’s time to return to the task of decluttering.

Those two hours were not lost time in preparing our house for market. They were overflowing with soulful nourishment, soothing the edges of sadness as we leave this beloved home and our wonderful community here and fueling the excitement for our next adventure—into the mists of the known and unknown.

Life is an incredible journey when I listen to my heart, live with soul, and weave creativity into everything I do.

Namaste

Will You Dare?

Posted on by
11

I awaken from a dream, words flowing effortlessly. I surrender to the current, carried along by the momentum of change.

Big changes are upon us. C.C. and I are selling our beloved home, venturing towards the coast, towards sea level. We seek a sanctuary where his breath can find ease, where the COPD’s barbed-wire grip on his lungs might loosen.

In the midst of preparing our house for the market, it’s easy to forget to breathe. Even without the physical constraints of barbed wire, anxiety can constrict my own lungs.

The vastness of possibilities unfolding before us can get lost amidst the mundane tasks of decluttering and sorting through years of memories. Photos, trinkets, and bookshelves overflowing with stories—each a testament to the life we’ve built together.

This home, lovingly crafted to embrace our family, friends, and furry companions, holds countless tales. Laughter echoing over anger, joy enveloping sorrow, love nourishing us through it all.

Amidst the chaos, it’s easy to forget that this adventure—this journey towards the unknown—has always been our life together.

Will You Dare?
by Louise Gallagher

Morning  intrigue,
a room full of doors, 
some flung wide, 
sunlit and warm
with possibilities beckoning
others cracked slightly open,
curiosity whispering an invitation, 
a door shut tight, 
locked-up secrets lurking, 
silent and foreboding.

Beyond each threshold, a mystery 
unfolding
birdsong, 
a city's hum,
the thrum of rain on distant fields
a voice, a scream, a cry, a laugh, silence.

Somewhere, a rooster crows
morning awakens
dawn flees
the day awaits.

Which door will you choose? 
Which unknown path 
will you dare to tread?