Tables turn. The world spins and life goes on.

This morning, Alberta awoke to a new political landscape.

Election 2019 heralded an upheaval for the reigning NDP, with Jason Kenney’s UCP stepping to the forefront with a crushing win.

Yup.  It’s politics.

And I do not write about politics.

So what do I write about on this morning when the river flows past my office window and the birds chirp in the trees lining the riverbank unmoved by the upheaval in our Provincial political landscape?

Maybe… there’s nothing to write about but the presence of the present.

Maybe it’s a day to breathe just as every day is a day to breathe.

Maybe all I can do in this moment is, to pause. To take in the quiet of this morning and savour the sun’s rays peeking through an overcast sky tinting the horizon in hues of pink and golden amber.

Maybe it’s a morning to simply be present, without searching for meaning, a message, a grand idea to inspire minds, open hearts and set spirits soaring.

Maybe it’s a day to simply be.

And in ‘being’, to set my intention to weather whatever changes are on the horizon with grace. To embrace what is present with acceptance. To breathe into all that is without judgment.

A new day dawned this morning. Behind grey clouds lying low on the horizon, the sun still shines. The world still turns and life goes on.

I am choosing to step into to this day, without carrying anything but the joy of being open to its possibilities when I turn up with a loving mind and open heart to the grace that is present in every moment.

Namaste.

Alcohol Ink on Yupo Paper
5 x 7 “
2019 Louise Gallagher

The sky is clear this morning. Blue infinity soaring forever.

My mind is fuzzy this morning. Restless sleep stirring my mind.

And softly, the sun rises. The river flows.

There is within me a quiet stream of contentment  Flowing.

I am releasing.

For the past few weeks I have been practicing releasing. It’s a simple process. A continuous statement of “I release.” Sometimes, I add ‘me’ to the end of the sentence. Sometimes ‘you’. Sometimes I get more specific, naming the thing/feeling in that moment which I am carrying and want to let go of.

There is a story of a man who travelled across a great desert, fearing for his life. No water. No food. Nothing but a desire to reach somewhere that was not desert.

Finally, it happened. Just as he was about to give up, he crawled to the top of a giant dune and on the other side, spied a mighty river flowing. He was elated. Not only had he found water, he discovered a land on the other side of the river that was rich and verdant. Beautiful and lush.

With the last of his strength, he eagerly scoured the river bank, searching for wood to make a raft. At last, his task of building a raft to carry him to the other side was over. He set sail and made it to the beautiful lush forest that was once a mirage as he crawled through the desert and was now his reality.

Elated to have reached such a place of bounty, he decided to explore. He hoisted his raft onto his back and began to walk. Eventually, the raft grew heavy but he could not put it down. It had carried him across the river to this beautiful place, what if he needed it again?

And so he travelled onward, each step becoming more and more laborious as he struggled with the weight of the raft on his back.

So often in life, we become like that man, carrying the hurts and pains we’ve gathered up throughout our journey through time, as if our lives depended upon them. Even though they are heavy. Even though they weigh us down, we dare not let them go. Doesn’t carrying the weight of our dark days mean we’ve learned the lesson? Doesn’t their weight keep us grounded? What if putting them down leaves us naked in the light of today?

And we forget. The lessons learned are always with us. It is our choice whether they are a light on our path or a burden on our backs.

I have worked in the homeless-serving sector for over 13 years.

It has been a rich and humbling experience. I have met amazing people. Walked alongside incredible leaders. Shared highs and lows with others who like me, want to create a world where everyone knows they are valued, just because they are here.

Throughout that time, I have been blessed with the opportunity to tell the stories of the people who travel the streets. Of those who carry all they own in a backpack on their back or sit leaning against walls on busy sidewalks, asking for coin. I have told stories of those who work alongside the travellers. Of those who support and care and struggle to create space for those with nothing, to find something to hold onto in the dark bleak corridors of homelessness.

I have been changed.  By everyone I’ve met. Everything I’ve done. Everything I’ve written and every story I’ve told.

I am releasing.

Setting down the weight of this work to release myself to dance in other spaces. Other fields of possibility.

And, just as a river finds space to flow free of its banks when it reaches the sea, I am finding my heart breaking free of where I’ve been, how I’ve been, who I’ve been as I continue to release myself from this work that has enriched my life so much and given me so many opportunities to find my voice, share my stories, create a difference in this world

I am releasing.

And in that release, I feel lighter.

In the lightness of being unburdened, I am releasing.

I paid off two speeding tickets yesterday. Fortunately, they were camera-radar so didn’t cost me any points!

And here’s the rub. They were both within a week of eachother, from the same location on my drive into work every day.

I felt like I was living the story by Portia Nelson in her book, There’s a Hole in My Sidewalk: The Romance of Self-Discovery:

“I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost… I am helpless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in the same place.
But, it isn’t my fault.
It still takes me a long time to get out.

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in. It’s a habit.
My eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault. I get out immediately.

walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

I walk down another street.”

Yesterday, I changed my route. Best to avoid those areas where I am prone to getting speeding tickets.

And yes, before you tell me I could have just chosen to slow down and obey the traffic signs, mostly I was. It’s just this is a really long zone. Okay?

I know it’simportant to heed the speed limit in playgrounds, I do. In this instance, it’s a playground zone near a subway station. I pass through it everyday and everyday I slow down, until the end of the zone which is a couple of blocks from the playground. Then I start to speed up. Unfortunately, I’ve been speeding up just before I exit the zone and the camera radar has been waiting.

I mentioned it’s a long zone, right? Like three blocks long. So it’s not really my fault.  (just kidding). I know it is.

The rules of the road are there to be followed. Not following them comes with a consequence. In this case, a couple hundred dollars in speeding fines.

And yes, some rules do need to be broken. However, rules of the road, especially in those zones where children play, are important. And, when all it takes is a vehicle parked at the curb with a camera trained to pick up drivers speeding up before they reach the end of the zone, it’s important to stay conscious of my speed. Radar cameras are impartial, impassionate and indescriminate. They don’t really care that for the first 100 meters of the zone I did keep to the limit, especially right past the playground, or that I think the zone is way too long! They only care that I wasn’t driving at the limit in the part of the zone where they were watching.

See, we all have rules we break. Sometimes intentionally. Sometimes unintentionally.

For me, getting caught speeding in a playground zone, twice in one week, is a reminder to stay present. It highlights how often I drive without being truly conscious of what I’m doing. and that is even more dangerous than driving above the posted speed limit in a playground zone. (I wasn’t going that fast, honest.)

I paid my speeding tickets yesterday. It was a great reminder to pay attention to where I’m at in every moment of my day and to stay present to what I’m doing. And, while I may have changed my route to avoid the playground zone of my despair, I still need to be conscious of whatever route I’m on.

Namaste.