Category Archives: Dare Boldly: No matter your age

From Giving to Living: Balancing Self-Care with Caring for Others

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Throughout our lives, especially as women, we often prioritize caring for others over ourselves. Whether as mothers, partners, friends, or colleagues, we frequently extend compassion and care outward, sometimes leaving very little for ourselves.

As we age, this pattern can persist if we do not consciously assess our own self-care practices. Proper self-care is crucial for living fully and passionately. It not only enhances our ability to care for others but also protects us from accumulating resentment and bitterness. Constantly prioritizing others can lead to an empty well of empathy and compassion.

Many factors contribute to neglecting self-care, including childhood conditioning, societal expectations, and a lack of self-belief. Without examination, these habits can lead to perpetual feelings of fatigue, burnout, and emptiness.

That’s why I’ve created the ‘Self-Care Check-In,’ a simple yet powerful tool to assess your self-care habits.

Why Reflective Journaling? Reflective journaling makes our thoughts and feelings tangible, allowing us to address often overlooked needs, desires, and well-being. This exercise encourages you to pause and ask whether you treat yourself with the same kindness and love you offer others.

In reflective journaling, there’s no judgment—only curiosity and empathetic acceptance. It opens a space for awareness, helping you explore possibilities for more loving self-care practices.

Self-Care Isn’t Just Pampering It’s about recognizing our worth and making ourselves a priority. By responding to specific questions through journaling, we can gauge our current self-care practices and identify steps to integrate better self-care into our daily routines.

Remember, the way we treat ourselves sets the stage for how we interact with the world, especially as we embrace the bold and brilliant years of our lives.

Let’s Get Started:

  1. Open your journal to a new page and title it ‘Self-Care Check-In.’
  2. At the top right-hand corner of the page, write a large A+. You’ve already started practicing positive self-care by showing up on the page—that deserves an A+.
  3. Below are four questions to help you assess your self-care. Please answer spontaneously, without overthinking.
    • Physical Self-Care: “What is one physical activity I did for myself today? (e.g., stretching, walking)”
    • Emotional Self-Care: “What is one thing I did today to make myself feel loved or supported?”
    • Mental Self-Care: “What is one thing I did today that brought me peace or rest?”
    • Gratitude: “What is one thing I am grateful for about myself today?”

After answering these questions, reflect on which area was most challenging and consider what steps you can take to improve self-care in that area.

For me, emotional self-care requires daily conscious effort. What about you?

I’d love to read your thoughts and experiences. Please share them in the comments below.

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We explore Self-Care and what holds us back from extending it to ourselves in my 8 week program, The ReWrite Journey.

I’ll be starting a new cohort Monday, May 13th at 5:30pm MT.

Gift yourself time to explore the art of ageless living with The ReWrite Journey.

Learn more HERE

Why be a Princess when you can be Queen?

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As young girls, we reveled in fairytales, enchanted by princesses who slept for a century, spun straw into gold, or toiled under the harsh commands of wicked stepmothers. We admired their beauty and grace, yet seldom questioned their lack of autonomy. These princesses, perennially waiting for rescue, mirrored a narrative that offered no guide on harnessing our intrinsic strengths. Just like the incomplete princess awaiting Prince Charming, the roadmap for growing older and claiming our queenly powers was conspicuously absent, leaving us to navigate for ourselves the road through dormant potential to becoming women brimming with passion, wisdom, and joy.

As women over 50, we’ve traversed the dense forests of life’s challenges and triumphs. We’ve built careers, nurtured families, and endured the relentless grind of daily responsibilities. Through it all, we’ve cultivated a formidable power—the power of experience and wisdom.

In my transformative masterclass, ‘Radiant Bold Aging,’ I delve into the incredible strength, courage, and resilience we possess. Despite hardships and losses, we’ve persevered, gathering wisdom and courage with each challenge faced.

Now, at this pivotal age of embracing our ‘Queen Within,’ it is precisely this courage, strength, resilience, and wisdom that we must lean into enrich and illuminate our path forward.

For decades, we prioritized the needs of others, often sidelining our own. But what if we shifted this balance? What if we placed our desires, our ambitions, our wellness at the forefront? Imagine the boundless possibilities when we focus on cultivating our inner sovereignty.

This journey isn’t about discarding our past; it’s about building upon the vast reservoir of skills and insights we’ve accumulated. It’s about recognizing that we have always been the heroines of our own stories—not waiting to be saved, but actively saving ourselves and, in doing so, setting a powerful example for those around us. And through this process, we chart the very map that was absent when we were children, captivated by the tales of princesses in a land far, far away. A map that will guide women, not yet at the threshold of their Queendom, navigate the road ahead.

Join me at RADIANT BOLD AGING as we explore what it means to truly rule our own lives with soul-driven grace, resilience, wisdom, and power.

To register for RADIANT BOLD AGING, tomorrow at 4pm MT click the photo below.

To link readers to my registration page for Radiant Bold Aging

Dare to Claim Your Right to be Your Own Queen

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There comes a time in every woman’s life when dreams of being a fairytale princess evolve into the realization that to fully embrace their potential, they must step into the next chapter and claim their right to be queen in their own lives. It’s time to reign over their Queendom and sit upon the throne of their own design.

Yet, too often, we hesitate. We stall and forestall. We tell ourselves we can’t step out and shine brightly or sing loudly—just in case others take notice. Just in case they talk, mock, or shun us.

Enough.

We are born to shine. We are born to cast off the limiting beliefs that push us into the shadows, dimming our light and our capacity to make a difference.

It’s one of the many gifts of aging. The realization that only we hold our unique gifts, and holding them tight denies the world the possibilities that open up when we share them.

Recently, someone asked if I feel self-conscious when speaking into the camera. “Feeling self-conscious is a form of false humility,” I replied. “I do it to inspire other women to do the same. Why feel self-conscious when what I’m doing is modeling bravery?”

Years ago, I wrote a story for my daughters called “Princess Iwannabe.” At the time, they were preteens, and I wanted to inspire them to cast off the need to fit in so that they could carve their own paths.

Princess Iwannabe resisted taking up her Queenly duties, preferring instead to sit around eating bonbons, waiting for her Prince Charming. When told she had to learn the duties of a Queen, she ran away from the castle. She had many adventures and ultimately discovered that the Prince Charming she was waiting for was never coming. Instead, she was waiting for herself to wake up to her own power.

Awakened, I am standing in my power and claiming my right to be Queen in my own life.

What about you?

Are you ready? Will you dare to cast off self-doubt and fear to step beyond the boundaries of your comfort zone into a whole new era of living wild and free in the land of your own Queendom?

Are you ready?

Radiant Bold Aging – March 26, 4 – 5:30 pm MDT

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Welcome to the “Radiant Bold Aging” Masterclass

Embark on a transformative journey where aging is not just a process, but an art form. This masterclass is tailored for those who aspire to step boldly into their next chapter, cherishing each moment and living free of the past. This masterclass is your guide to thriving at any age, celebrating each moment with grace and creativity.

Join Me and Discover 3 Vital Secrets to Living with Purpose, Passion and Pizzazz.

 The “Radiant Bold Aging” masterclass invites you to redefine aging as a period of growth, creativity, and mindfulness. With a focus on embracing your beauty and truth, cultivating creative expression, and nurturing a mindful connection with yourself and the world around you, this course offers a path to a life filled with vitality, relevance, and energized enthusiasm.

Register now and celebrate the art of aging with grace, creativity, and mindfulness.

Click on photo above or CLICK HERE to register for this Free Masterclass

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A Masterpiece of Time

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Winter has returned for a visit this week. Temperatures that hovered several degrees over freezing for almost a week dove into Arctic temps over night. Back out came my long heavy down-filled coat, fur-lined boots and warmers for my mittens.

When you’re a human to a dog in northern climes, weather must be weathered, regardless of how cold the winds might blow.

This morning, as I walked along the river, immersed in a world of Mother Nature’s wintry artistry on display, my thoughts drifted back to a quote I included on the vision board I crafted at last night’s ReWrite Journey workshop. “I am going to make everything around me beautiful– and that shall be my life.”

The universe, it seems, is my silent accomplice, generously dusting the landscape with splendour and awe.

This morning, as Beaumont the Sheepadoodle and I meandered through the woods, I paused to marvel at the splendour of a world cloaked in winter’s magic, reminding me of another quote that appeared on my vision board last night. “Seek to see the magic in the moment.”  

Even with the mercury clinging with chilly determination to -18°C, with windchill, – 26C, magic shimmered all around me. Each breath I exhaled danced like white mist before me. And, even though the mistiness of my breath forced me to shed my sunglasses, which had steamed up above the scarf safeguarding my face against the biting cold, I couldn’t deny, the world looked even more beautiful when I saw it through clear-eyed wonder.

Beaumont bounded through the snow, sniffing and snuffling at the base of trees and fallen logs and with every step I took, my thoughts cascaded back to this morning’s meditation and its gentle reminder: “Acknowledge the beauty present in every moment.”

It was all there before me.

A symphony of light playing upon snow-draped branches, two Canada geese skimming the surface of the ice-covered river their wings swooshing in harmonious flight, a squirrel, embodying the spirit of the woods, bounding energetically across the earth before leaping up into a tree with one enthusiastic stretch of his body. And on the strip of river still joyfully flowing free of winter’s icy embrace, sunlight sparkling like the dancing fairies I used to spin stories about when my daughter’s were younger.

Enchanted magic, all of it

Eleanor Roosevelt once remarked, “Beautiful young people are merely accidents of nature, but beautiful old people are works of art.”

In the exquisite and enduring splendour of nature, which has witnessed aeons more than any of us, I breathe deeply into the truth of her words.

Our human nature is to grow older. Mother Nature, in her perpetual cycle, is a masterpiece of time. As am I. As are you.

The Perfect Time is Family Time

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Processed with VSCO with a6 preset

After a delightful two-week visit with my daughter and her family, I am once again at the airport, awaiting my flight’s boarding call.

On this morning’s drive to the SeaBus terminal at Lonsdale Quay in North Vancouver, courtesy of my daughter, I mentioned what a lovely time I’d had, as always.

“Even though we mostly did nothing?” she queried.

Yes. Even as the Norovirus swept through the household, afflicting each of us in turn, I still had, the best of times. Not the worst.

The unexpected guest, Norovirus, paradoxically, became the backdrop against which precious moments unfolded. Its presence meant our world shrank to mostly staying home, to the exclusion of time spent with the children’s friends and other social activities. Fortunately, before its arrival, I was able to watch my grandson’s dedication in his Karate class and was awed by his focus and attention throughout the session. When I told him how much I admired his focus he replied confidently, “Yes. I’m very focused in Karate.”

And here’s the thing, once the virus began to roam through the house, it didn’t dampen our spirits. It instead curated moments of simple joys—building sandcastles at the beach, exploring playgrounds, wandering through forests, and strolling along North Vancouver’s scenic seawall. Together, we baked bread, made pancakes (my grandchildren are expert Chocolate Chip Testers) and laughed and played games together where it was never quite clear who actually won.

And though my grandson’s sixth birthday bash was postponed, our small celebration, complete with cake, candles, and the Happy Birthday anthem, was no less heartwarming. His excitement over new toys—a Minecraft Lego set, Air Nerf guns, and a vintage Foosball table—brought laughter and competitive spirit into our days, even as my three-year-old granddaughter amusingly disrupted the game with her innocent chaos.

These instances of togetherness, of fun and laughter, underscored the essence of family.

One memorable evening, with my son-in-law away and my granddaughter under the weather, I had the pure joy of reading bedtime stories—an unexpected, yet profoundly cherished, bonus.

And, added bonus! My daughter and I did fit in our traditional dinner at the Arm’s Reach Bistro in Deep Cover!

Could our time together have unfolded differently? Perhaps.

But the essence of its perfection lies not in the activities we did or didn’t do, but in the love, connection, and quality family time that characterized my visit. It was, in every sense, a perfect encapsulation of the joy and bond of family.

The Art of Ageless Living

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There comes a time when the silence of complacency becomes too loud, when the ordinary hues of life demand the extraordinary — a spectrum that defies age, transcends time, and shatters the monochrome barriers of convention.

This is not a whisper of hope, but a war-cry of resolve. The path ahead is not littered with question marks, beckoning uncertainties and doubt. It unfurls before me as a boundless canvas, aching for the stroke of my wild heart’s palette. It’s not the years that define the artistry of living, but the living that defines the years.

With every dawn, I stand at the threshold of the unknown, armed with the audacity to dream and the paintbrush of my soul, dipped in the vivid inks of passion, courage, and unbridled zest. I am here to declare, not just to the world but to the very essence of my being, that my journey is not a timid tread but a stride of a maverick spirit.

The future beckons with open arms and a dare — to splash, to swirl, to blend the unexpected into a masterpiece of my own making. I answer with a resolute heart and a vision unclouded by the ‘coulds’ and ‘shoulds’. My every step carves a unique path, my every breath fuels the fire of creation.

This is not just living; this is living agelessly, where every moment is a bold brushstroke on the canvas of time. Watch out world, for here I come — not as a fleeting shadow, but as an indelible mark upon the tapestry of tomorrow.

The future is mine to paint, with all the shades of audacity and the contours of a dream realized. The question mark has been erased, and in its place, a declaration — to live boldly, wildly, and utterly agelessly!

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I am in Vancouver visiting my daughter and family. I’m loving the time and also, taking time to craft my manifesto, my path forward as I carve space to welcome into being.. The me I’ve been waiting for.

I don’t have my paint supplies so have been playing with AI to generate images for my Dare Boldly: The Art of Ageless Living progam.

It’s been a fascinating exploration of AI and its capabilities to be a medium for creative expression. 

The image in both quotes – the one at the heading of this post and the one below — were both generated by AI — it took much prompting and clarifying — and while I continue to be committed to my artmaking, it sure was a lot of fun!

All’s Quiet on a Midday Flight: A journey through Memory and Legacy

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I’ve always found a unique serenity in choosing midday flights. Unlike the bustling mornings or the weary evenings, airports during these hours whisper tales of transient calm. This time, the terminal, usually a stage for the hurried footsteps of countless travelers, offered a rare pause in its daily rhythm. Such moments of tranquility amidst the chaos of departures and arrivals are fleeting, yet profoundly appreciated.

However, adhering to the conventional wisdom of arriving two hours early for a domestic flight often seems excessive. Today, just ten minutes sufficed to navigate through check-in and security, even with a suitcase that needed checking-in. The efficiency was a welcome surprise, especially considering my departure from the newly renovated B gates. This change significantly shortened my walk, a small yet significant mercy for someone who, out of convenience or necessity, checks their luggage.

The renovation, aside from logistical benefits, hinted at a broader theme of travel: the blend of wonder and ordeal. For many, including myself, the journey to the gate is the least appealing part of travel. Yet, it’s an integral step in the dance of departure and arrival, a necessary prelude to the adventures that await.

On this occasion, my luggage carried more than just essentials. It bore fragments of my sister Jackie’s life—items destined for my daughter, granddaughter, and sister Anne. In sifting through Jackie’s belongings, we distributed much to charity, but some pieces were too imbued with memories, too rich in sentimental value, to part with. They represented not just personal history, but a tangible connection to Jackie, a way to keep her spirit alive in our daily lives.

I sit and watch passengers walk past the cafe bar where I type and wonder about my own possessions: the artifacts of travels and life events that compose the mosaic of my existence. From the shawl I picked up in Ireland to the earrings from Barbados, each item carries a story, a piece of a place, or a moment shared with loved ones. These are not mere objects but the threads from which the tapestry of my life is woven, each adding colour, texture, and depth to my personal narrative.

I ponder the future of these threads, the fate of these tangible memories when I am no longer here to hold them. Will they serve as cherished reminders for my loved ones, or will they become burdensome relics of a past no longer connected to the present?

In my carry-on, two bags of jewellery—one for Anne and one for my daughter in Vancouver—serve as a testament to these reflections. They are heavy, laden not just with their physical weight but with the emotional gravity of the memories they represent.

As I navigate through the quietude of the airport, I am reminded that our journeys, both literal and metaphorical, are interwoven with the lives of those we touch. What we carry, what we leave behind, and the memories we cherish are part of a larger narrative. It’s a narrative that transcends the individual, connecting us through the shared experience of love, loss, and the enduring question of legacy.

Who will treasure the memory of us? It’s a poignant question that echoes in the silent corridors of my midday flight, a reminder of the indelible marks we leave on the hearts and lives of those we love.

Grief Flows With Gratitude

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Vancouver, spring 2023. The Gallagher Girls – The last time we were all together

Grief, ever-present lingered heavily in our midst this weekend. This morning, grey skies hang low, creating a world where air hangs heavy and still in sympathy with the river whose flow is stifled by ice covering its surface. The quality of the air we breathe holds ‘Moderate Risk’ the weather report states. Burdened with humanity’s careless offerings it clings close to the earth, reluctant to disperse.

In this world, we are like specters of loss, breathing shallowly as though each inhalation risks sweeping away the delicate memories of those departed. It’s as if letting go of these recollections would affirm the unbearable truth of their absence.

Frozen in grief’s clutches, our blood struggles to circulate, our hearts labour to beat under the weight of memories clutched too tightly.

This weekend past, my daughter and I, alongside one of my brother-in-law’s daughters, embarked on the poignant and heart-wrenching task of sifting through my sister Jackie’s belongings. Her wardrobe—a tapestry of her life—dresses, scarves, jewelry, all infused with her essence. Treasured keepsakes nestled in a jeweled box, a gift from our parents in her teens: cards, handwritten notes, photos, ticket stubs, even her Air Canada ‘wings’, and our brother’s high school ring. Among these, a pair of tiny gold scissors and a spool of thread.

Jackie, a seamstress whose passion for sewing wove joy into our lives, created snowsuits, Easter dresses, Halloween costumes, and doll clothes for my daughters. Her craft was meticulous, her stitches a testament to her precision.

But time and arthritis cruelly claimed the dexterity of her fingers. Her love for sewing gradually receded into memory, leaving behind fabrics, ribbons, and threads, which she generously donated to charity.

In her craft room, her sewing machine and serger stood silent, shrouded in protective covers, awaiting a new home.

We found solace in redistributing her clothes. The Pashmina one of our cousin’s from India gave her, now part of my wardrobe, feels like an embrace from Jackie. The bracelet my middle sister, Anne, and I gave her for her 75th birthday is on my wrist. Other pieces are packed away for me to take to Anne when I fly to Vancouver next month. Some, my daughters kept to remember her by and others we shared with friends who wanted tokens of remembrance.

Yet, the abundance of her possessions led us, my youngest daughter and I, to fill our SUVs and donate to an agency aiding women entering the workforce. “Jackie would be pleased,” my brother-in-law remarked. Indeed, she always extended a helping hand to those in need.

Her personal items have left the home, but the ache of their absence lingers. Waves of grief wash over me, each tide a reminder of what we’ve lost in Jackie’s passing. Each breath full of the pain of letting go.

I find myself hoping, irrationally, that shallow breaths might lessen the sharpness of loss. Yet, deep down, I know life and death don’t bend to such wishes. I sometimes fantasize it’s all a dream, only to be jolted back by the vivid memory of her final breath, my hand resting on her forehead, the chill of the November air as I left the hospital, the flight to Vancouver where I gazed through the plane’s window, seeking her essence in the clouds.

In these moments of remembrance, grief slips away as I soak in the gratitude of having had a sister such as Jackie. And as I breathe into the stillness of my memories, I wonder… was that Jackie’s voice reminding me to breathe?

Miracle. All of it.

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As sleep gently recedes and my mind begins to stir, I awaken. With a habitual roll, I reach for my phone on the bedside table, diving into my morning ritual: a half-hour of puzzle-solving courtesy of the New York Times. This quiet challenge is my gentle bridge between the realms of dreams and waking.

Finally leaving the warmth of my bed, I bundle up and step outside with Beaumont, my beloved Sheepadoodle. Our morning saunters have become a sacred time. Under the golden-hued sky, where morning’s first light dances, I stand enveloped in the chilly air. My breath forms delicate mists, merging seamlessly into the serene silence. Breathing deep, I hear my soul whisper, “Miracle. All of it.”

“Yes. It is,” I reply softly, my breath mingling with the winter’s chill.

Returning home, Beau paddles back to the bedroom, seeking the warmth of the bed and my still sleeping husband’s company. Meanwhile, I head to the kitchen, ready to bake breakfast scones. Today holds a different rhythm – I’m going to my brother-in-law’s to sort through my sister’s belongings. I’ve coordinated with a couple of not-for-profits for distribution. Today is about packing and remembering.

As I search for the scone recipe on my phone, I stumble upon a folder labeled “Jackie’s room.” I catch my breath at the poignant reminder. It’s a list of the hospital rooms she stayed in during her final months, a journey that started with a broken femur and wrist last July 24th. There are six entries.

Tears well up against my eyelids. I close my eyes and silently acknowledge this moment of grief, familiar yet always fresh. I allow myself to feel, to let the tears trace their path of memory as they slide down my cheeks.

I turn the oven on and turn into the familiar process of baking scones. The furnace hums a steady beat, I stand at the kitchen island and look out onto the wintery landscape beyond our windows and watch the light creep across the sky. It spills over the snow-clad trees and riverbank. Ice stretches out from the shoreline to the open water where giant, slow-moving chunks of ice drift gracefully along the river’s surface.

I breathe into the profound beauty and tranquility of my morning view.

The oven beeps. The scones are ready to be baked as the day awakens to its own rhythm.

And my soul whispers. “Miracle. All of it.”