Category Archives: acts of grace

Create Kindness | 52 Acts of Grace | Week 16

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Ever think the world is just too crazy and running out of control? That anger and hatred and intolerance are running rampant no matter where you look?

Create kindness.

The only way to overcome hatred, anger, intolerance is to be the opposite. Be kind. Be loving. Be considerate. Be positive. In all ways. In all things.

And the more kind and loving you are, the bigger your ripple of loving kindness in the world. And the more people experience your ripple, the more people will be encouraged to create their own ripple of loving kindness until the whole world will be awash in loving kindness!  Now that’s a vision worth holding.

Create kindness today and watch the world around you change, one simple act of loving kindness at a time.

 

And a chant for loving kindness to inspire your day.

Be Grateful | 52 Acts of Grace | Week 15

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Yesterday, C.C. broke the handle off a china coffee mug. I’d just bought him a set of 4 beautiful china mugs because he doesn’t like heavy pottery ones and these ones are so beautiful, I thought he’d enjoy drinking his coffee out of them.

And now, there are only 3.

When I saw the broken pieces of the handle on the countertop, I felt a tinge of disappointment course through my veins. Quick as lightening. I like even numbers of things. I like there to be 4, not 3.

I know. I know. A tad compulsive. A tad rigid if I do say so myself!

And that’s when I remembered, Stop. Breathe. Remember. Be grateful for all things.

I’d broken a crystal wine glass the day before. We had a set of 16 of these particular glasses. Now, there are 15.

It was a good reminder for me to pay attention, to get in the moment of what I’m doing. I’d dropped the wine glass because I was trying to do too many things in the kitchen at once and was not paying attention to what I was doing in that moment, right then.

The broken handle on the coffee mug was an opportunity to say, Thank you. Thank you for the reminder that accidents happen. It’s just a mug.

The handle can be glued back together and back onto the mug. Some cracks will always show. And as Leonard Cohen sings so poignantly, “there is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in”.

Thank you for the crack in the mug. Thank you for the reminder that hearts like mugs are fragile places. That when I treat one with disrespect, throw angry words at it or sear it with my disdain, it can be broken. That when a heart is broken, the only way to heal the cracks is to shine a little love, or a lot, on the broken places. That treasuring the cracks in another, is the path to finding one another in Love.

And thank you for the reminder that having an even set of china mugs is no where near as important as having a heart where cracks are made more beautiful because we are together, shining light on one another.

Be grateful today. For all things. The ‘good’ and the ‘bad’. The things that make you feel that fissure of anger, upset, disappointment, anguish. The things that give you pause to think about the cracks and how beautiful they look when you let the light in.

Let the light in today and be grateful.

Namaste

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And to help you remember, here’s Leonard Cohen singing, Anthem.

Sometimes, you gotta give it a break

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After the rain had stopped, summer slipped gently into the evening. A soft breeze blew through the branches of the apple tree, water splashed in the fountain, a magpie cawed, unseen, in a distant tree.

I sat on the back deck embraced by the gentleness of evening caressing my skin.

Yesterday, I spent the day doing nothing, yet everything. Some might say, I spent the day self-indulging in laziness. Others might call it a waste of time.

I call it, good medicine.

A month ago, while running with Beaumont, I tripped and fell on the pavement. Flat out. Right arm outstretched above my head to stop my fall.

Something clicked where it shouldn’t have clicked in  my shoulder.

I have been nursing it ever since. Acupuncture. Massage. Chiro. Stretching it hurts too much. Typing has been a pain.

Yesterday, I decided to just give it a break. To not use it to cook or type or clean or paint or tidy up. Nothing.

I started the day sitting on the deck, sipping my morning latte, wrapped in a blanket, listening to the world awaken. Beaumont sniffed the dew fresh grass still wet with Saturday night’s rains. I sat and felt the morning crisp air against my face and savoured the quiet of a city not yet awakened beneath a sky that could not decide to clear or remain cloudy.

It decided to cloud over completely and pour rain. A good excuse to curl up in the over-sized loveseat and flick on Netflix.

Beaumont climbed in beside me. I laughed and tried to push him off but he was persistent. I let him stay.

We watched episode after episode of a series I’d never even heard of and I decided to not remind myself I had to get up. I had things to do.

I decided instead, to dig into being complacent, being still so that I could enjoy the sluggishness of my day – without my judgements of ‘doing nother’ clouding my enjoyment.

It was healing medicine.

My wrist and shoulder did not bother me. My neck feels looser.

Sometimes, you just have to give yourself permission to do nothing of everything that heals, everything that feels like good medicine for a tired body.

In the doing nothing lies the secret to everything — sometimes, it’s important to listen to your body so that it can heal from the inside out.

Sometimes, it’s important to let your body rest so your spirit can catch up.

And sometimes, it’s important to simply give yourself a break.

So I did.

I am grateful.

Intersections.

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I am walking out of the building where I work to go next door to the convenience store for a bottle of Pellegrino. A tall man walks towards me, smiles. I smile back. I don’t want to make assumptions, but I think it is possible he is homeless.

He stops and says, “Excuse me…”

I stop and turn to look at him. “Yes?”

“I don’t want money” he says immediately. “But, I’m kinda stuck here. I just got out of emergency and I’m really hungry.” And he shows me the cut on his foot. “Would you be able to help me out with lunch?”

I look at him. Consider my options and say, “I could buy you some lunch here.” And I point to the little take-out restaurant on the other side of our office doors.

“I’d rather go to Mac’s,” he says.

“I don’t have time to go to Mac’s,” I tell him. “I’ll gladly buy you lunch right here.”

He considers it for a moment, thanks me and we walk into the restaurant where he orders lunch.

As we wait for the server to tally up the bill, I ask him if he has a place to stay.

“I’m kinda couch-surfing right now,” he tells me.

“Where are you from?” I ask.

“Hobbema or as I call it, Hellbema.” He laughs. Shrugs a shoulder. “I don’t like it there.”

“I know a number of people from Maskwachees,” I tell him, using the Indigenous name. “They are working very hard to create positive change.”

“Yeah,” he says. “But all my people there, they just judge me. Make me feel bad about myself.”

“Do you feel bad about yourself?” I ask.

Again, a nervous laugh. A shrug of the shoulder. “Yeah. Pretty well all the time. Life’s not easy.”

“I would have to say that for your people it has been very, very hard.”

He nods his head up and down. Looks me in the eyes. “You’re a good lady.” And he leans over and gives me an awkward, sideways hug.

I return the hug.

“How come you know people from Maskwachees?”

“I’m involved in a program called Choices,” I tell him. “I’ve met them through it.”

His face lights up. “Hey! My cousin went to Choices. When he came back, all he wanted to do was hug everybody! He loved it.”

This time, he gives me a full on hug. Laughing as he does so.

Laughing, I hug him back.

The server has my bill ready. I pay. I wish him well and tell him he could check with his band about going to Choices. “It might help you feel less bad about yourself.”

“I’d have to go back. I don’t want to go back there.”

“Sometimes, going back is the only place to find the way forward,” I reply.

He nods his head, side to side as if weighing my words.

I tell him I have to go. He thanks me for lunch and as I’m about to open the door to leave he calls out, “Hey wait! Don’t forget. We gotta hug!”

And I turn and we hug and I leave. I go to the convenience store next door to buy my Pellegrino and he waits for his lunch.

And life flows onward.

And both of us move on carrying the memory of a hug where our paths intersected.

 

When the waters rose, people rose higher (memories of the 2013 Flood)

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These boots are made for mopping up.

These boots are made for mopping up – After the Flood.

The sun shines brightly this morning. The air is cool yet warm. Inviting.

I awaken, step out onto the back deck, Beaumont the Wonderful padding softly behind me. He sniffs the air, steps off the deck and trundled across the lawn to his place behind the apple tree where he likes to relieve himself.

It is a beautiful morning.

Last night, after a delightful jaunt to the park, Beau and I sat on the back deck. I read, he raced around squeezing the squeaky toy he stole from Zali when she came to stay for a few days. He loves that toy and the noise it makes. He holds it in his mouth, gently squeezing as he runs wildly around the yard, down the narrow corridor between the end of the deck and the garage, out to the yard again, racing to touch all four corners, onto the deck, back onto the grass, again and again and again until exhausted, he gulps a big slurp of water and crashes on the evening cool lawn.

And through it all I read and watched him and smiled and laughed at his antics. At one point, he decided he was still a lap dog and hoisted all 65 pounds of him up onto my lap. He lay his head beneath my chin, tucked his back legs onto my lap and cuddled and cuddled.

Marley the Great Cat jumped down from the fence rail where he likes to sit amidst the bushes to be out of the way of Beaumont. He leapt up into the deck chair beside me and curled up and fell asleep. Beaumont looked at him and smiled sheepishly as if to say, “Ha! I’ve got her lap. Tough kitty!”

Three years ago today, I could not have sat out on the deck. Rain was falling on our city, swelling both rivers to overflowing. The entire downtown was flooded and 100,000 people evacuated.

It was a time of stress. Of grief. Of sadness. Of dismay.

It was a time of community coming together. Working side by side to preserve what they could, protect what had not yet flooded and clean-up what was underwater once the rivers had crested.

It was a time of uncertainty for those who had been forced to flee the rising waters and left their homes to face the river alone.

My daughter and her roommate were staying with us. Evacuees. They thought they’d only be gone a couple of days. It was 5 weeks before they could move back into their apartment.

For many people, there was no moving back home. Their homes  and so much of what they owned, was destroyed by the floods.

One friend stood in his house and surveyed the damage all around him and felt relief and guilt wash over him. The entire quadrant of the city where he lived was flooded. Except for his house and his neighbour’s. Two homes out of 200 saved from the raging river by some fluke of street design and miracle.

The waters rose to within 3 feet of the backdoor of a young friend’s wine shop and stopped. They were without power for a week, but the dream he and his partner had spent five years building was saved.

The damage today is not as visible as it was on this day 3 years ago. There are scars but mostly, the city has recovered.

I was reminded of this day three years ago when Facebook served up a memory for me to read.  The waters have receded, much of what was lost has been rebuilt. Today, we all have our flood stories to tell. Our moments of horror. Our moments of fear, uncertainty, wonder and awe.

We all have our stories to tell and the greatest one of all is how, no matter how fast or high the waters rose, people rose higher. We came together and worked side by side and amidst the devastation, humanity shone brightly.

 

Give Love Away | 52 Acts of Grace |Week 14

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In this world of sensory overload, of having to get where we’re going faster, of feeling pressured to get things done in seemingly ever decreasing minutes to do them in, it can be easy sometimes to forget the Loving Path. To think, I need to butt into line here, or sneak into this place there because… and then we give the 1,342 reasons why our need to get somewhere faster, do something quicker, have something more than anyone else needs to take precedence over their right to the same consideration.

Stop. Breathe. Think about your personal accountability for being kind, generous, considerate throughout the day. And Give Love Away.

The other day, on a busy road, a driver cut in front of me, zipped in and out of traffic only to get to the same red light as me. They might have shaved 10 seconds off their journey on the way to the red light, but that’s about it.

My initial thought was to not think very kind thoughts of them and their driving. In fact, I might even have called them a not nice name and sat with a smug smile on my face as I stared through their rear view window at the red light, silently willing them to look back at me so that I could smile innocently at them.

I needed to Stop. Breathe and think about my personal accountability. What did I want to send out into the world? Irritation and discord? or, Peace and harmony?

Peace and harmony make the world turn more smoothly.

In choosing the loving path, I choose to breathe into my ire and whisper quietly, Bless them. Forgive me. (for that momentary lapse in consciousness where I didn’t think kindly of my fellow human) And let it go.

I cannot change all the bad and inconsiderate drivers I meet on the road. In fact, there may be instances where I am that inconsiderate driver causing others to whisper angrily under their breath about my lack of road smarts. In those instances, I too need the grace of others to help me find my way back to thoughtful, cooperative sharing of the road.

For today, no matter the circumstances, no matter your ire, let Love be your answer. Find the most loving path and Give Love Away.

As Paul Brandt suggests, “You gotta give it away.”  “Because the more you give, the more you get.”

Spend Less | 52 Acts of Grace | Week 13

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I didn’t spend any money yesterday, not at a store and not online.

It was a conscious decision, though I almost forgot. Twice. C.C. and I were on our way back from a romp in the park with Beaumont the Sheepadoodle and I almost suggested we stop to grab a favourite coffee. I refrained, just in time.

Later, I was online, looking at some new art supplies and almost clicked. And then I remembered, just in time.

I had chosen to make yesterday my “I will not spend money today, day.” I made myself a latte at home later and the supplies will still be there today, tomorrow, next week, If I truly need them (and given I have a studio full of supplies it is debatable).

We live in a world driven by consumerism. Opportunities to purchase, acquire, get stuff, abound. On TV ads, all over the Internet, on billboards, in magazines. No matter where we look, someone is attempting to cajole us into spending money, to adding to the horde of stuff we already have just so we can have the latest, greatest, biggest, bestest stuff on the block.

Give yourself the grace of a ‘spend-free’ day. Practice choosing not to consume. Build it into your weekly habit and let not spending be part of your consciousness rising full of grace.

Just Because | 52 Acts of Grace | Week 12

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One summer, C.C. and I took three of our four almost adult children to New York. One night, after coming out of a broadway musical, I bought a bunch of roses from a street vendor and said to the girls, “Let’s give them away to strangers!”

For the next half hour on the walk to a restaurant where we were meeting friends for a late dinner, we wandered along the streets, approached strangers and said, “Hi. I’m from Canada. I have a rose for you just because.”

Some people were suspicious. Some hesitant. Some embraced the gift without a moment’s thought.

Most people wanted to know why. Why are you giving away a free rose? Some asked, ‘What’s the catch?’ Some looked around suspiciously as if to see if they were on Hidden Camera or some other tv show designed to capture them in awkward moments.

Regardless of their initial response, not one person refused the rose. Not even the police officer we offered it to.

Not one person didn’t smile. Not one person didn’t say thank you!

And everyone walked away laughing and smiling.

We laughed so hard that night and had such fun!

And what I love about it is that even years later, I still smile when I think about not just the people we gave the roses to but about how the girls and I took the opportunity to connect with strangers and create smiles everywhere while C.C. and his son looked on laughing and making sure we weren’t going to get into any trouble. At first both girls (then 18 and 21) were hesitant. But once they saw the joy that was created through the simple act of gifting a rose to a stranger, they jumped right in and played along.

Sprinkle a little joy where ever you go today. Give a loved one, a co-worker, your boss, a stranger, a rose and tell them it’s “Just Because.”

Namaste.

Give a little forgiveness| 52 Acts of Grace | Week 11

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Let’s face it. It is impossible to get through life without some hurts and pains. Big, medium or small, life offers up thousands of opportunities for we humans to be perfectly human in all our human imperfections.

Often, the other person may not have intended to hurt us. They may have been acting out from their place of pain. They may not even realize there is pain in their response.  Just as when we have been the one to cause pain or hurt, we did not intend it or did not know the source of our own unease that caused us to say or behave the way we did.

It isn’t what happened that makes the difference in your life today. It’s what you do with it.

Give a little forgiveness.

No one deserves to be abused, lied to, manipulated. No one deserves the countless things that happen in their lives that push them down. Name calling, deceit, the loss of a loved one, loss of any kind, feeling humiliated, feeling alone, feeling like you don’t belong.

No one deserves to have their feelings ignored, their truth called a lie, their beauty called ugly.

Yet, it happens.

The challenge is, when what happened ‘then’ continues to dictate how we feel, behave and see ourselves in the now, it isn’t the past that’s hurting us any longer. It’s our repetition of ‘the story’ we’ve created about what happened that is causing our distress.

Give a little forgiveness.

Sure, it may feel awkward, uncomfortable, different. Do it anyway.

And, if your mind immediately leaps to “I will never forgive ____________.” ask yourself, what does holding onto resentment, bitterness, distress get me? How does it serve me today?

This is not a big sweeping, I forgive you, will forget it ever happened or a ‘it’s okay, I swore I’d never let you back in my life and I still don’t trust you but I will’, kind of forgiveness. You may never want to let them back into your life. And that’s okay. That’s your decision. Only you know what is the best for your life.

Forgiveness isn’t about making what another did right or okay, or acceptable. It’s about releasing yourself from the past, letting go of the story you are telling yourself that keeps haunting you, hurting you, holding you down.

Forgiveness is not for them. It’s for you.

And once you’ve started practicing a little forgiveness, keep practicing. It’s not about biting it off all in one big chomp. It’s about taking tiny little bites that are manageable. Bites that slowly nourish you with their soothing grace, setting you free to flow into life without the wounds of the past limiting your brilliance today.

Give a little forgiveness.

And don’t forget to give yourself the same grace.