Category Archives: Dare Boldly: No matter your age

Dances in the Wind (a poem)

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This morning a beautiful friend from the poetry circle I wrote with for several years and then had to miss out on most of last year because of a competing Monday night commitment, sent a poem to our group, ‘Acceptance‘, by Kerry Hardie. (Thank you Lilli Ann)

One of the images caught my imagination. Still January.

The muse whispered, “Write it out.” So I did.

DANCES WITH THE WIND
by Louise Gallagher

Still January 
yesterday, 
I walked the shoreline 
morning calm stretched across grey water
lapping, gentle, muted sounds
caressing, rocks

slick and slippery
seaweed a blanket of vivid green
I step, 
slowly, carefully, 
remembering

there was a time 
I leapt 
rock to rock, 
arms flung wide 
head tilted back to catch 
the salt-laced breeze 
effortless

those were the days my friend 

we danced ‘til dawn 
and slept fast 
fell in and out of love faster

Who can tame the wind? 
A weathered branch creaks 
memory slips 
against the jagged 
edges of daybreak whispering 
only time can stifle age

Still January 
today, I walk along the road 
hugging the shoreline, close
mist hangs low 
steel grey waves frothy, rolling 
in and out, in and out 
trees sway, leaves rustle,
dances with the wind

On solid ground I walk, 
confident 
an eagle soars above 
time is on the wing.

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.

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.

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…

My Grandmother Rachel

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Our past is not just history; it’s a living part of who we are. Until we unearth the secrets of our family history, we can never fully understand the roots of our own identity.

Nervous and excited, I entered the virtual circle poet, singer/songwriter and teacher, Meredith Heller, created for our first online gathering of Kindred – Women’s Poetry Workshop. I first encountered Meredith through my friend Brian Pearson and his Mystic Cave Podcast.

Enchanted by her voice, words and presence, I searched for a course I could join and was drawn to Kindred with its enticing invitation to “Join us this holiday season as we write ourselves into deeper & vital belonging with the great family of life.”

The timing couldn’t have been more fortuitous. Still feeling the aftereffects of the results of the US election two days prior, still trying to find my sense of place and balance in the great wheel of life, joining the Kindred called me in like a welcoming fire inviting me into the womb of my creative nature.

I wasn’t disappointed, but I was surprised.

In Meredith’s opening visualization, she invited each of us to listen for and allow an ancestor to come forward. That’s when my Grandmother Rachel, my father’s mother, appeared.

I know little about her. My father never spoke of her, having been estranged from her since he was 8 when his parents divorced. All I really knew about Grandmother Rachel was what my mother told me, which boiled down to, “She was mean to me.” But in the visualization, Rachel radiated a quiet joy, unlike my mother, whose smile always seemed etched with a hint of sorrow.

As I stood before her, I felt confused and curious. I had never really tried to get to know this woman who was a part of me, whose DNA was intertwined with mine. Her joy, a stark contrast to the sadness I often associate with my family history, made me wonder what other hidden strengths and emotions I carry within me, inherited from generations past.

When my mother died almost five years ago, I became the keeper of her “Box of Secrets”, a large tin Lebkuchen box that had travelled from Germany back to Canada with my parents many years before. Amongst photos and various papers, it held letters from my father to my mother during WW2, their marriage certificate from Pondicherry, India in 1942 and, letters my grandmother wrote to her daughter, Phyllis, a woman I’d never met and had not known even existed until I was in my 30s.

My father kept secrets well. My Grandmother Rachel was part of the mystery that enshrouded the secrets of his life.

Looking at my Grandmother Rachel yesterday, I felt a profound sense of the unknown. What stories did she hold within her? What trials had she faced? What joys had she celebrated? And what part of her story lives on in me, waiting to be discovered?

Perhaps we all carry within us these unseen threads, these echoes of lives lived long ago, shaping who we are in ways we may never fully understand.

As I embark on this journey of uncovering my father’s hidden history, I am filled with a sense of both trepidation and excitement, knowing that with each revelation, I come closer to understanding the complex tapestry of my own being.

Thank you Meredith for welcoming me so warmly into “this great family of life.”

What about you? Does your family history hold secrets you’ve yet to unfold?

Finding Sanctuary in the Storm: Jazz, Reflections, and Resilience

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When you walk
strong of back,
soft of heart,
there is no storm
you cannot weather,
no darkness
you cannot overcome,
and no wound
you cannot heal.

The wind howled like a banshee, rain lashed against the windows, and darkness clung to the edges of the world. It was a night to hunker down, to surrender to the storm’s symphony. “Do you still want to go?” I asked C.C., almost hoping for a reprieve from the tempest. But his eyes, alight with anticipation, held a spark that even the wildness of the night couldn’t extinguish.

His enthusiasm was a beacon, reminding me of the long journey he’s traveled. Not just to this island but with his health. The sea air, thick with the scent of salt and seaweed, have been a balm for his COPD compromised lungs. His breathing has eased and his strength is returning. I knew the music would be a tonic for his soul, and mine. And so, we ventured out into the night, seeking refuge in the warm glow of The Surf Pub and the promise of Sunday Night Jazz.

As the first notes filled the air, I was transported back to Jazz Vespers at St. Andrew-Wesley United Church in Vancouver. I recalled the hushed reverence of the sanctuary, the soaring voices of the jazz singer and her quartet, and the profound words of Reverend Gary Patterson, a scholar of Leonard Cohen and a master of weaving music and poetry into his sermons.

It was in the aftermath of the 2016 American election, a time when I felt profound uncertainty and fear, that his words first resonated deep within me: “We must stand strong of back and soft of front.” He spoke of the dangers of judgement, of the need to listen and learn, to embrace empathy over animosity.

That phrase, “strong of back, soft of front,” has become a guiding principle in my life. It’s a reminder to stand tall in the face of adversity and walk true to my values. It is an invitation to meet challenges with courage and resilience, while keeping my heart open to compassion and understanding. It’s a call to transcend the victim narrative, to recognize that even in the face of darkness, we have the power to choose love over fear. Always.

Last night, as the music washed over me, I was reminded of the interconnectedness of life, of how a stormy night, a jazz concert, and the words of a wise minister can converge to illuminate the path towards healing and wholeness. And in the depths of my being, I knew that with a strong back and a soft heart, there is no storm we cannot weather, no darkness we cannot overcome and no wound that cannot be healed.

Awakening (a poem)

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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.

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

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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.

Start Here

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Start Here
by Louise Gallagher

Start here, 
right where you stand, 
feet firmly planted
on the threadbare rug of your living room, 
close in 
to this space you occupy, 
with weary familiarity
surrounded by the clutter and quiet comfort, 
of your constant yearning 
for tomorrow to rescue you, 
from this place where you stand, 
surrounded by the books you haven't read, 
the stories you haven’t lived,
the paints still drying on the palette, 
and you, still wishing for change.

Change doesn't arrive with the turning of a calendar page, 
it comes close in to your choosing 
to begin right here, 
in this space you occupy,
where the sun struggles to peek through the blinds, 
where tomorrow's light is hidden, 
where rose-pink streamers of dawn remain unfurled 
because you haven't yet started 
here, 
where you stand, 
feet firmly planted
on the threadbare rug of your living room, 
waiting for tomorrow.