The truth about you and me.

Early morning. Arrived at the airport in lots of time to clear security, procure my morning elixir (oatmilk latte) and settle in at the gate to await boarding of my flight to Vancouver.

Life feels good on mornings like this. Even when I do get up at 4am!

Yesterday,after I cleared out a bunch of ToDos in my Inbox, I spent the evening baking Choco Chip cookies for C.C. to munch on while I’m away as well as cooked up a batch of tomato feta pasta, did laundry, walked along the river with Beaumont, packed and had a long, delightful and inspiring phone call with a woman I met for the first time last night on Zoom.

She got my name from a friend. She’s writing a book about her amazing journey and was feeling stuck.

In her despair, she did what can be so hard and yet is so important to do when we’re feeling lost, or stuck, or simply overwhelmed. She reached out for help.

It’s hard because often, the voices in our head are feeding us a steady stream of the litany of our failures, reinforcing with each virulent diatribe why we’re losers, failures and a host of other non-supportive, unkind falsehoods. Yet, as we follow their dark trail, it’s easy to become trapped in their insistence that only they know the truth about us. Only they can keep us safe from everyone else seeing that truth.

As I told this amazing woman last night, They’re just voices. They aren’t the truth. The truth is that woman who did all those amazing things… she’s not lost. She’s always there. Always with you.

It’s time to turn away from the darkness.

In working with this woman I was reminded of the imperative of self-care. Of cutting the threads of those voices, early in their game, before they take hold.

I’ve been in her place. I’ve cried and cried and cried, believing that I was worthless. I was a failure. I was… good for nothing and that the world would be better off without me in it.

For me, those vicious thoughts lead me down that dark path to that place where I stood by a river desperately wishing I could cut gravity’s hold on my body and let it sink into the murky depths of the waters sliding past.

I was not powerful enough to unhook gravity. At the time, it felt like another failure. Another piece of evidence cementing my lack of worth.

I am grateful I am not powerful enough to unhook gravity.

I am grateful I am not powerful enough to create monsters, or ‘bad men’ or hurricanes or tidal waves or any kind of storm.

What I am is powerful enough to weather storms. To prepare myself for choppy waters. To build a boat. To batten down the hatches, set my sails and head for safe harbour when life’s forces feel stronger than my capacity to stand tall and steady in the waves crashing all around.

We don’t have to brace ourselves for every storm.

We don’t have to sail directly into uncharted waters or know every step of the path before us.

Believe the path will appear and it will. Trust the future will arrive in its own time, and it will. Hold onto Love and you will always be safe.

And know, and always hold onto the truth of who you are – no matter the times. No matter the weather. No matter how dark the skies. You and I and every human on this planet are magnificent beings of light, promise and possibility. We are the divine expression of love in aciton. We are Love, loving, loved and loveable.

And we all deserve joy, happiness, comfort when we’re down and support when we’re feeling lost on our journey.

None of us have the power to see into the future. What we do have is the power to reach out for help when wecan’t see the path before us because we’ve lost sight of the light within.

I am grateful for those who walk with me, and walked with me, when I felt lost and alone. I am grateful for their light on my path.

In gratitude, I share my light with others so together, we can all light up the world.


I Don’t Understand

Every morning, or at least on those mornings when I log onto my blog, WordPress poses a question as a thought-starter.

Normally, I breeze over the question as I usually have a general sense of what I want to write about when I sit down. But, this morning, the question captured my attention. “What’s something most people don’t understand?”

I read through some of the answers and was fascinated by how differing all the opinions were.

  • other people
  • themselves
  • how important it is to take care of yourself
  • narcissists
  • living with chronic pain
  • that we are all gods
  • how to make money
  • how to be present
  • and the list goes on…

I don’t know what most people don’t understand – for me, there are a lot of things I don’t understand…

I don’t understand how we can continue to kill and maim and hurt one another. I don’t understand how we can be so cruel to animals. How we can abuse children. How we can say, I love you, and then destroy that love through so many different ways.

I don’t understand how the earth keeps spinning in its orbit and how the moon appears every night even when we keep doing things to block the light and turn our world upside down..

I don’t understand (at least not completely) how my heart skips a beat when I see the faces of my grandchildren or hear their voices, or how my heart can keep expanding to love my family more and more.

I don’t understand how love’s limitless presence can lift some people up and scare others into staying down.

And I don’t understand how much there is to understand, about the darkness and the light, the ups and the downs, the ins and the outs, the sensical and non-sensical, the beautiful and the ugly, the mystery and the horrors of life on this one planet we call our home. This one planet that is the foundation and the source of everything. The breath we take. The food we eat. The gravity that holds us in place. The far horizons that call us to dream.

There is so much mystery, wonder and awe in this world. I do not understand.why we keep trying to destroy it and one another.

And then, I come full circle. Life isn’t about what I don’t understand. It’s about understanding that my role in it is to understand how vital, connected and beautiful my role is and to share the beauty and the light of me so that however I play out this life, it creates better, does no harm, brings joy and deepens Love always and in all ways.

What about you? Where does what you don’t you understand lead you?

If I Were Brave…

Learning or doing something new, travelling to a new destination, meeting new people, can often feel like a journey into the unknown.

Questions about – What if I can’t do/learn it? Will people like me/will I fit in? How will I cope? – can scurry through our minds like water skeeters searching for food on the surface of a lake. Our thoughts dart from one gloomy fear to the next, constantly undermining our confidence in that next adventure with their power to hold us back from taking the next brave step.

Like any muscle, the bravery muscle needs constant working out to stay supple and strong. It needs our conscious attention to avoid atrophying.

Avoidance strengthens fear. Feeling the fear and doing it anyway strengthens courage.

Stepping into the unknown opens us up to possibility and adventure. It also deepens our ability to know ourselves, our triggers and strengths in different situations, so that we can diminish the things that hold us back and grow in our confidence to keep steeping forward in our lives.

Rather than shy away from what you do not know, next time you’re faced with a situation or circumstance you’ve never considered, or avoided, in the past, ask yourself, If I were BRAVE what would I do?

Fact is, we are all brave. It’s just sometimes, our critter-minds think to keep us safe, we need to tone down the bravery and play it safe.

Playing it safe keeps us stuck in our comfort zones.

To play it brave, listen deeply to the answer and do that – not only will you have an opportunity to experience something you never before imagined possible, you’ll be strengthening your bravery muscles too!

And what a great way to play life! On the brave side!

Claiming Joyful Imperfection

In the work I do, I am very practiced at framing messages, diffusing difficult situations and creating space for minds to find new ways of exploring being in this world of many differences – people, opinions, situations and ways of being present.

I will never be perfect at what I do.

I’m grateful.

Grateful because, in seeking perfection in what I do, I live in my head and do everything disconnected from body, mind, spirit which in and of itself, prohibits the perfection I strive to achieve.

When I give myself permission to allow everything I do, and every situation and person I encounter to be an opportunity to practice becoming more accomplished and authentically me in what I do, I enter each moment with an open heart and mind, eager to be present to all that I encounter.

In that way, my confidence to be present grows and my ability to act as my most courageous and authentic self deepens.

Perhaps if I lived on a mountaintop, separate from the environment and the world of humankind, I’d be capable of achieving that lofty state of human perfection. But still, it would be only my ‘perfect’ being, not yours or anyone else’s. Which means, it wouldn’t be perfect to you.

Which is why I’m claiming my right to be perfectly imperfect in all my perfectly human ways and diving into the joy of being human practicing the art of learning to live and become my most loving, kind and creative self in everything I do.

Namaste ❤

What is your superpower?

What is your superpower? he asked.

To be loving, she replied.

He laughed. That’s not a superpower. And he went on to give her a lecture on the multitudinous and mighty superpowers available for her to choose.

Finished, he asked again, So tell me now, what is your superpower?

And she smiled and replied, To be loving.

Angry that she had chosen so unwisely, again, his body grew ten times in size. Massive muscles rippled along his shoulders, His biceps bulged. He raised one gigantic fist high above his head and brought it down to the ground in one thundering blow. The earth shook. The skies darkened. His face turned red. His eyes bulged and his voice roared, “That is not a superpower!”

Calmly, she looked up at him towering over her, his whole body a mass of angry quivering muscle. Her green eyes were wide-open, clear and calm as a high mountain lake. “Love is the most powerful force on earth,” she softly replied. “It cannot be forced to become something else. It cannot be stopped through forces of hatred. Love is the most indomitable force on earth. It does not cower before might, nor dim itself in the face of danger. It is and always will be itself. No matter where I go, where I stand, or what I do, Love is with me, around me, surrounding and filling me with its power to transform darkness into light, anger into joy, hate into acceptance, and hurt into forgiveness. Love is my superpower.”

“I do not believe you”, he roared. “Nothing and no one can make me see the light nor transform my anger. Nothing can make me love you”.

She smiled and wrapped her arms around one of his mighty legs and held him gently in her loving embrace.

“You don’t have to believe me, nor love me,” she replied. “Love is strong enough to hold your disbelief. It is powerful enough to embrace us both in all the darkness and light of our human condition and never stop cultivating and magnifying the beauty of who we are when we stop fighting and allow love to be the force we empower to change the world.”

He had never met anyone who hugged him when he stormed. He’d never had his angry words calmed by soothing words. And though he did not believe it was possible for Love to change the world, he could not resist the warmth of her embrace and slowly calmed down enough to return to his human form.

“I do not like your superpower,” he said. “It makes me feel weak.”

She smiled and gently took his hands in hers. “You are not weak in the face of Love,” she said. “You are stronger than your wildest imaginings.”

And slowly, day-by-day, gently without force, she taught him the power of Love.


by Louise Gallagher

I sit
by the earth
through time
where I sit
in my desire
to hold on
to all
I believe
I am
when I sit

my eyes
I must
let go
of sitting 
to release
my hold
on being,

I sit in meditation and release my thinking mind into my body. I ask my deep, inner knowing, to fill me up with connection, awareness, guidance.

“We come into this world knowing the infinite belonging within life that brings us into being,” the wise woman whispers.


What on earth does that mean.

Listen, she whispers.

I sink deeper. I listen, deep.

And I feel myself opening, opening, opening.

All my life I have strived to ‘be equal’ to be as good as, and at times, better than, ‘a man’.

But what if none of this journey is about being equal to or better than.

What if the mystery of the feminine I strive to uncover and connect to is as much a part of the whole as the masculine that has been buried beneath mountains of patriarchial patterning that would have white maleness be the measure of the worth of all?

What if equality has nothing to do with it?

What if this journey is about becoming something profoundly other than what is known now?

What if, in all my striving, I let go of holding onto all I think I know and believe about who I am in relation to ‘the other’ so that I can become all I am in relation to me?

What if in my becoming, I allow the expression of my infinite belonging to draw the threads of my being into a beautiful, magnificent expression of my destiny woven through life’s constantly evolving journey?

What if the story of my life isn’t ‘what I make it’ but what I become as I live it untethered to the known as I explore the all of who I do not know me to be?

What if it is not about striving to be, and simply becoming my story in this time where I sit, still, and unmoveable yet constantly moving and changing, moving and changing?

Heady thoughts to ponder beneath this grey sky day where snow blankets the earth and the river runs deep, its surface movement blocked by ice stopping its flow while beneath the ice, the river moves, constantly reaching out towards a distant sea.

The Rootball

Morning mist on the river

As I slipped into meditation this morning, a mist was floating along the surface of the river. When I opened my eyes 20 minutes later, the mist was gone, the sun shone bright. Shadows of naked tree trunks slid across the ice towards the west.

The sun breaks through

I smiled. How appropriate.

The question I had asked before meditating was, “What is here? Will you show yourself to me?”

I was not disappointed.

I am deeply engaged in a course on Radical Intimacy. Much of the time in this course is spent feeling from the womb, being within and of deep feminine wisdom.

This morning, I ‘saw’ a rootball, like one of the ones I hold in my hands when I am planting new spring flowers just bought from the nursery. Gently, I remove the plant from the pot, release its root ball and lovingly place it in the earth.

And that’s what I did with my feminine ‘rootball’ this morning. I gently began the process of untangling my roots.

I am unearthing my divine feminine essence that lives always within the womb of our humanity.

I’m growing. Deepening. Becoming, more and more, the essence of me. It is a lifelong journey, this becoming. A journey I dive into, retreat from, engage with again, retreat from again, in a lifelong dance of engage/retreat/enact – engage/retreat/inact…

I am smiling.

Sometimes the retreat is long. Sometimes, I am like the mist that floated along the river this morning. I follow the river’s course. I get lost in the confusion, uncertainty, despair of the times, and must allow the sun to disperse the mist hiding me from my truth — I am always becoming. Whether in engagement, retreat, acting out or taking action. I am always becoming.

I like this journey!

Dancing Wild at Heart

Over at Gratitude Mojo today, doyen, Joyce Whycoff, shares a series of questions to promote introspection and writing.


I almost felt my mind getting lost in the pure glee of skipping amidst the questions, flinging its metaphoric arms wide-open to the possibilities each question represents.

Some of the questions are posed by authors such as John O’Donoghue, Byron Katie, James Cleer, others by Joyce herself.

All of them spark the light of wonder and awe of our human condition.

My skipping mind wants to answer every question right now.

And then, I remember Rilke’s advice to ‘live the questions.’

So, to safeguard myself from diving headfirst into mayhem, I have decided to pose one question a day from Joyce’s list for me to explore – either here on my blog, or in my journal. To ‘live the question’ within by writing my heart out.

The question I’ve chosen today, which I will explore in my journal more completely, is from Gabrielle Roth. Her question immediately jumped out at me as I have held onto her book, “Dance of Ecstasy” for many, many years. Gabrielle Roth’s ‘5Rhythms‘ movement/meditation practice was part of my practice for many, many years. In the 90s I took a facilitators course and lead workshops, attended a weekly session with others and lost myself in ‘the dance of life’ finding me where ever I was on the floor, in the room, within and without. Occasionally, I still engage with it.

And that’s where my exploration of her question begins with the first sentence in her quote from Joyce’s list.

When did you stop dancing? When did you stop singing? When did you stop being enchanted by stories? When did you stop finding comfort in the sweet territory of silence?” — Gabrielle Roth

As I am off early tomorrow morning to spend blissful time with my daughter and her family (and a whole lot of dancing with my grandchildren!), I shall mostly be writing in my journal.

But, my intent is to live that question deeply. To explore what stands in front of me, and behind me, holding me back from dancing with the thrum of heart calling me to let go and just BE. Wild. Free. Untethered. Unfettered. WILD at HEART. ME.

I do hope you go explore Joyce’s question list. Perhaps I’ll see you on the page sharing your thoughts too! That would be so sublime.


The stories we let go of.

When I worked in an adult homeless shelter I heard many people’s stories. It was almost a ritual for staff. Whenever someone was talking about ‘their story’ of how they ended up at the shelter, the staff member would bring the client to my office door and ask, “Do you have a few minutes to listen to this woman/man’s story?”

I always had time for their stories.

They were, in many cases, all they had left of their past. All they carried with them. All they had to hold onto to remind them of who they were before…

…Before their husband took off leaving them with 3 small children, no money, no job, no prospects. For a while, they managed to keep it together. Eventually, the burden, the constant struggle to make a few dollars stretch to cover all the days of the month would take their toll. One drink became another and another until, the children were taken away and they were left, alone. Broken. Searching for release from the pain and turmoil that had become their life.

…Before the car accident that stole their wife and child leaving them unable to comprehend the sheer horror of what happened.

…Before the divorce. The fall from a roof. The fight. The breakdown. The big mistake…

People arrived at the shelter with their stories tightly gripped in memory banks and hands. Stories of how… life used to be.

…We were happy. I loved her. I always wanted to go to college. I had a career. I only wanted to be a good dad. I built things. I was well-respected. I made people laugh. I liked to sing. I painted. I wrote. I took care of people…

They would share their stories and I would listen deeply.

To the pain. The sadness. Sorrow. Regret. Confusion. Disbelief. Anger…

They would share their stories and I would hear the yearning for ‘the way things used to be’.

And when they were done, I’d tell them how sorry I was for what happened. How they must feel lost and alone. So sad.

Yet, no matter how they felt, one fact remained the same. None of us are powerful enough to change the past.

We can only look to today to find the path to tomorrow.

Sometimes I’d ask, “Are you able to let go?”

And they would inevitably reply. ‘Of course,’

Don’t we all believe that? Don’t we all believe we can change, leave the one we love who’s hurting us. give up smoking. find a job. go back to school. get sober. lose weight. change directions.

If only it were so easy.

We all have stories we tell on ourselves.

And when those stories are the only thing we have to hold onto, letting them go can feel like we are losing ourselves. It can feel so scary and overwhelmingly huge we hold onto them as if our lives depend upon their presence to keep us grounded on this earth.

We all have stories we tell on ourselves that hold us down.

Stories that begin with, I can’t. I don’t know how. I’ve never. It’s too late…

Are you willing to let go?