Category Archives: Essential Journey

When mice quit running in circles.

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She is only five or six. Blonde haired. Green jacket with two big red fabric flower pockets on the front.

Her mother is in her late twenties. Harried looking. She is talking into her cellphone as the two get on the C-Train.

There is an empty seat behind me. The mother motions to the little girl to sit while she stands beside her, still talking on the phone.

“Mommy. I want you to sit with me,” the little girl says.

The mother keeps talking on her phone.

“Mommy. I want you to sit with me,” the little girl repeats.

The mother keeps talking.

The little girl’s voice gets louder, more strident.

“I want you to sit with me.”

The mother stops for a moment and tells her daughter to be quiet.

The little girl repeats her request. Louder again. More whine in her tone.

The mother keeps talking.

And they repeat.

And repeat.

My stop comes and I get off and notice the passenger beside the little girl getting off too. The little girl scoots over. The mother sits down, still talking on her phone. The little girl grabs her arm.

I wonder what she’ll ask for next as I leave the train and continue on with my day.

I witnessed this scene play itself out yesterday as I rode the C-train into the downtown core and I wondered. Did the little girl really want her mother to sit down, or did she just want her to pay attention to her? Was her, “I want you to sit with me,” just another cry for her mother to “Look at me! Look at me!”?

At one point, a story of how her mother couldn’t sit down because mother’s can never sit down, flit through my mind.

The mice who run the wheels who make the C-train work would stop running in their tracks and want to sit with your mother too if your mother sat down, I wanted to tell the little girl. Mice are like that. They run and run around in circles until someone sits and then everyone follows suit. Wouldn’t that be horrible if all the mice running the wheels stopped and tried to sit on your mother! Oh my, what a scene that would be.

And btw, I’m not fond of mice on C-trains. Are you?

I never told the little girl the story. I never did anything other than listen in and wonder, how much am I like that little girl and mother? How often do I ignore the world around me as I go about my day all wrapped up in the conversations I’m having in my head, or on my phone?

Sometimes, our thoughts can be like the imaginary mice running around in circles in the wheels of the C-train. They make the wheels go round and round, but going round and round can lead to spinning out of control when done in mindless following of the path of least resistance.

Sometimes, we’ve got to put away our phones, turn off our laptops, the TV, the radio and other devices of mass distraction and simply sit still and be present in the moment of breathing.

Sometimes, we’ve got to let go of busy and simply be present to our inner child’s calling for attention.

How not to scorch the earth when lighting the flames of love

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Ian Munro at Leading Essentially wrote on Sunday about the natural power of a forest fire to clear out deadfall and create room for new growth.

Ian writes:

forest fire“A forest benefits from naturally occurring fires. It is one of those counter intuitive things in nature.  The forest ecosystem needs a good fire occasionally.  The larger, older trees form a canopy that blocks the light and suppresses new growth. Over the years, it also accumulates a lot of dead wood and brush on the forest floor, making it less passable for animals and less arable for other plants.  A good burn cures a lot of these issues.  At first, there’s nothing but a blackened mess.”

Read more of “The Secret to Avoiding Drastic Measures”. 

What we humans sometimes do not see is the beauty in the devastation. The possibility in the mess.

No matter how messy and filled with dead wood our path may be, we don’t want to feel the loss, experience the trauma, know the grief of burning down walls, tearing out the roots of the past, sweeping away deadfall on our path.

We focus instead on keeping going, no matter how dark the road, how treacherous the way. We keep on going in whatever direction we’re going, if only to avoid having to see the loss of light on our path.

Nature is patient, writes Ian.

We humans, not so much.

We want to continue on whatever path we’re on, be it comfortable or not, and not face the devastation, not confront the need to uproot or, as the case of a forest fire, burn down the overgrowth to get to the sun.

Two weeks ago, I married my beloved and we committed to live together, ‘happily ever-after’.

Okay, well the happily ever-after bit maybe wasn’t in our vows, but sometimes, in the beauty of the moment, happily-ever-after seems not so far away!

What was in our vows was the commitment to love one another, in the broken and the whole, of who we are, where ever we are.

We committed to be true to one another, no matter how dark the skies around us. To always find the path of least-destruction through all kinds of turmoil.

Life isn’t the culprit when our paths become dark and gloomy. We are.

In our quest to live in constant ‘happily ever-after’ we forget that life can be messy. It can have challenges. Ups and downs and disappointments. We must continually sweep away the fallen branches and deadfall that has collected on our path as we’ve journeyed from yesterday to today if we are to keep the light coming in. Or, to paraphrase M. Scott Peck who wrote over three decades ago about love and life and spirituality in “The Road Less Travelled”, if you don’t take out the garbage the whole house will stink. Our shadows are like the garbage, suggested Peck. If we don’t face them and all they carry, they’ll really stink up our lives.

I’m not a scorched earth supporter. I don’t believe we need to continually burn the earth on which we walk to keep our paths clear. I do believe, we need to continually clear out the deadfall, examine fallen branches and either turn them into walking sticks or let them go if they no longer serve us well. We need to continually seek the peaceful, loving path through our lives.

If I want my life to be filled with peace and love, joy and harmony, I must let go of lighting fires that destroy the world around me. As a couple, we must choose the road less travelled to find eachother’s hearts, in darkness and in light.

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This post is in response to Ian’s question on his post:  The Secret To Avoiding Drastic Measures:

  • As a couple do we allow small irritations, poor habits and minor incompatibilities to fester to the point where the level of resentment cannot be reversed?  Or do we pursue more open dialog that allows these issues to be addressed individually, accepting that sometimes it will cause an argument or “small fire” that can be more easily controlled?

 

When we shine, we truly are magnificent

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When I was a little girl I wanted to be like the sunshine. To shine and radiate and make everyone all around me feel warm and bright.

And then, I grew up.

In my growing up years I listened to what others had to say about me. The good and the bad, (mostly the bad) and I told myself not to be so silly. Egotistical. Ridiculous.

 

How could I be like the sunshine? I couldn’t even shine bright enough to see the light in my own heart, how was I going to shine so others could see into theirs?

We become what we tell ourselves. Our lives are a reflection of our inner-most thinking.

I lost my light and carried on with living.

When I met the man who wanted me to die for his love, I was just healing from the first relationship I had had since my daughters’ father and I had split up. Knowing I needed to give myself time to breathe after the break-up of my marriage, I didn’t date for a couple of years. And then, I met Sam (not his real name) and fell deeply, passionately in love.

He was perfect.

Except, he was also bi-polar, older than me, very religious and a recovering drug addict. Oh, and did I mention somewhat OCD?

I am creative, impetuous, spiritual but not a follower of one religion. I can be very scattered/cluttered in my own environment and, at the time, I was the mother of two not yet teenage daughters. His were in their 20s and living their own lives.

It was not a relationship built on similar goals and dreams and desires and ways of living.

Sam loved me as I was. He also wanted me to change to fit into his lifestyle. And truthfully, I wanted him to change too.

We struggled to make it work for 2 years until I could no longer deny we were not a match made in heaven, but we sure could make life hell for one another if we stayed together any longer.

I broke off the relationship and a few months later met the man who would promise to love me ’til death do us part, and then got really busy making the death part come true.

I was not ready for love, I told him.

He disagreed.

If it is real now, it will be real in six months, a year, let’s take our time, I said.

I don’t have time, he told me. I am dying of a rare heart disease and will be dead by Christmas if I don’t get a transplant.

And I believed him and I kept falling. Hard.

I thought I was falling in love. I thought I was on the road to happily ever after.

I was lost.

Until that morning of May 21, 2003 when a miracle drove up in a blue and white police car and I was given the gift of my life; a gift I had to choose to honour, cherish, celebrate and love every single day if I was to heal and grow and reconnect with my daughters and help them heal from the pain and agony and turmoil I’d precipitated in their lives through that relationship.

I am blessed.

I have found myself on the other side of that darkness. Found my light shining brightly within.

I have learned the power and strength and endurance of my human spirit.

I have stepped off the edge of my disbelief that love is not true and discovered I have wings to fly free of darkness into the light of knowing, Love is all around. Love is always the answer.

This May 21st will be 12 years since that morning in May when I stood by a river and prayed for release, to end it all, to stop the pain and horror of my life. On that morning in May when I was given the miracle of my life, I had no idea how beautiful, wondrous, amazing life could be. I had no vision of the future.

Today, I do.

My dream has come true.

Today, I know that when I shine a light on the love that flows continuously within and through and all around me, I create a world of loving kindness all around me. I become the mirror of my thoughts and actions.

Today, I know that I am a wondrous woman of worth, a beautiful human being of light and love. Just like you. Because, I am you, you are me and when we shine, we shine so bright all the world can see our magnificence reflected in their eyes!

 

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Beyond the “I Do”

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My heart was touched deeply last night. A beautiful friend, RF came up to me, gave me a hug and said, “I love your words and following your journey as you get ready to marry C.C.” And he went on to tell me how through my words, he feels hope, like the possibility of love is out there, shimmering and calling for him too.

And my heart flowed over.

It is my dream. My desire. My heartfelt wish that my words inspire others to see the possibility of ‘more’ in their lives too.

As I waited for a session to begin at the Champions for Change conference I am attending this week, a woman came up to me to ask if I would be the keynote speaker at the major fund-raiser this fall. “Your story is inspiring and I think it would fit our event perfectly.”

And my heart flowed over.

It is my dream. My desire. My heartfelt wish that my words inspire others to see the possibility of ‘more’ in their lives too.

In 2003 when I was released from that relationship that was killing me, I couldn’t imagine that those events would lead me to such grace and love in my life today. Yet, they form a part of my story today. They inform my actions, my thoughts and my words. They are not my whole story, they are part of the journey I’ve taken to here. Right now. This place where the darkness that was then is illuminated by the light of my life today showing me, and others, that darkness exists but it is not the entirety of our days. It is not all there is.

The light shines brightest in the dark.

Like a watercolour artist, we need the darkness to illuminate the light. We need the contrast to see the depth and beauty of all the colour. Not just some of it. All of it.

In a week plus a day, C.C. and I will become ‘husband and wife’.

I know our lives aren’t suddenly, miraculously going to change. They don’t have to. Our lives are rich and full today. Our life today is a beautiful tapestry of family and friends and joy and laughter woven together in Love.

The change that will happen is deeper. Much deeper. It is a belly change. A deep-seated place of knowing within me that we are committed, for life, to love and nurture and support and honour one another. We are committed to standing in the broken places, together, and not seeing only the wreckage of our last fight or disagreement, but also  the possibility of growth from where we stand and step forward together.

This is a forever kind of place to be. A no stepping back from this edge because at this edge when we leap, we fly together. And when my wings falter, his breath will pick me up. And when his tire, my breath will give him strength. Like geese flying in formation, we will continually shift positions, offer support and encourage one another to keep flying forward, together.

As we commit through marriage to love deep and true, we will continue to encourage each another to keep seeking the higher good in ourselves and the other. To keep loving one another exactly the way we are, right now, because loving one another in this space is where we find the strength to keep flying beyond the “I do” into the mystery, wonder and magic of the ‘more’ of being married to one another.

 

 

My actions are my only belongings

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“I am of the nature to grow old.
There is no way to escape growing old.
.
I am of the nature to have ill-health.
There is no way to escape having ill-health.
.
I am of the nature to die.
There is no way to escape death.
.
All that is dear to me and everyone I love
are of the nature to change.
There is no way to escape being separated from them.
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My actions are my only true belongings.
I cannot escape the consequences of my actions.
My actions are the ground on which I stand.”
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Buddha

 Buddhism – Path To Peace

I am at a 3 day conference, Champions for Change hosted by the Tamarack Institute for Community Engagement. Surrounded by 260 people intent on creating lasting and sustainable social change, I feel inspired. Uplifted. Energized.

As I heard speaker after speaker say yesterda, “We can create lasting change.”

Yes, we can. We just have to change how we do what we do. It isn’t about throwing everything out and thinking up new ideas. What is present today has value. We have lots of assets to work with. We need to find creative and collective ways to bring them closer, to activate people and make deep systems changes that will engage our communities in co-creating a future we can all live with.

It was an amazing day. I am excited to experience what will unfold today.

And in the midst of all the inspiring ideas and deep-thinking and learning, I am also attempting to check off the final To Do’s on my wedding list.

In the midst of heady and heartfelt learning, there is the mundane. The tasks that need attending to, regardless of where I am.

I breathe and commit to staying present. To balance head and heart and spirit. To breathe deeply into gratitude and lovingly accept the awareness that some things will not get done. Some things don’t need doing. And that’s okay.

This morning, when I read the daily Zenflash I receive in my Inbox, my heart stirred as consciousness awoke. These actions I am taking now, the things I am doing now, being at the conference, engaging in conversation about collective impact and social change, creating the final things for our wedding, checking items off my list, getting my hair cut as I did last night, are the ground on which I stand.

Each one is important and while their relevance to the grand scheme of creating a better world may vary and shift, each one makes a difference to me.

And my heart whispers. Make each one count in the moment of its doing. Act in all things with intention. Clear mind. Open heart. Willing spirit.

My actions are my only true belongings. May all my actions be a reflection of my conscious intention to create better in all things, in all ways, for the good of all and the fulfillment of me.

May all my actions be grounded in Love.

Namaste.

Is there truth in dishonesty?

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In answer to the question, “How many times should you forgive someone?” Buddhist monk Ajahn Brahm replied, “Always one more time.”

I enjoy RSA Animate discussions. Supported by caricature-like sketches, speakers present complex issues in simple and understandable ways.

This morning, I watched a fascinating presentation by Dan Ariely from November 2012, “The truth about dishonesty”.  Towards the end of the presentation he gives 3 rationalizations why confession, as practiced in the Catholic church, might work.

One, the thought of having to confess acts as a deterrent. As in, I think about robbing a bank but then I’ll feel icky about myself and even worse, I’ll  have to go tell the priest what I did and he’ll think badly of me.

Two, after confession you feel good about yourself and want to hold onto that feeling for a little while longer.

Three, confession allows for a new page to be turned. When we’ve behaved badly, and we all have the capacity to behave badly under the right circumstances says Ariely, confession allows us to wipe the slate clean and begin again. This is particularly true for those who have forgotten they ahve the capacity to do good and adopted the ‘what the hell’ theory of living — I may as well be bad as I’m going to hell anyway. Through confession they are able to ask for forgiveness, make amends and move forward believing once again in their natural goodness.

But what if you’re not the one who did a ‘bad’ thing. What if you’re the one to whom badness happened? What have you got to confess?

Perhaps in those instances it is not confession that creates the space for moving forward but forgiveness.

Holding onto unforgiveness is sticky business. It keeps us swimming in the sea of unease, constantly fighting the current of our natural goodness.

Unforgiveness keeps pain alive.

Forgiveness is like confession. It clears the soul and makes room for our natural goodness to shine.

Beyond forgiving one more time is the space where thoughts of forgiveness no longer arise because in the space where our natural goodness shines, there is no longer any need to forgive.

Cutting corners.

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FullSizeRender (39)I cut corners last night.

I know. I know. Bad idea. If one believes the idiom, cutting corners leads to disaster, or at least a poor result.

I hadn’t intended to do it. I thought I could get away without cutting corners, but, after cutting one corner, it quickly became evident, cutting corners was necessary.

Which got me thinking about idioms and taking things at face value.

Cutting corners began appearing in print in the 1850s. It was originally used in reference to navigation with other uses in reference to riders following hounds and the ‘lure’ in the hunt versus taking shortcuts. Mark Twain used it in reference to a gondola in 1869 but there are many references to it even before that.  (Source)

I have never questioned the wisdom of the advice to not cut corners. On the surface, not cutting corners is a good thing. It keeps me on the path well-known, the route most travelled.

But what about taking risks? Exploring new paths? Testing uncharted waters?

Sometimes, you have to cut corners to discover a new way.

Like the corners I was cutting last night. They were on the programs I am creating for our wedding. Originally, I thought I could get away with leaving the corners straight. After testing one with cut corners versus straight, it was apparent that the cut corners give the programs a more finished look.

Except, I’d already completed 16 programs. When I’d started making them I’d considered cutting the corners but decided they were okay left straight. And they were, but…

I don’t want just ‘ok’. I want polished.

Not cutting them in the first place created more work in the long run. I had to carefully do each page individually, after I’d put the programs together.

16 x 5 pages each program x 4 corners each page = 320 corners   versus   (16 x 5 pages cut as one) x 4 corners = 64

Had I begun with cutting corners in the beginning, I could have cut in bulk, saving myself considerable time without impacting the look of the final product. Fortunately, I’m only 1/3 of the way finished the programs. I’ll definitely cut the corners in bulk going forward!

Which brings me back to not testing things I believe to be true only to discover the truth I thought was true, may not be so.

I didn’t start painting until I was in my mid-forties.

I’d always told myself, I am a writer. I have no artistic abilities. When I began painting on a whim one day with my eldest daughter I discovered the ‘truth’ I’d believed all of my life until then wasn’t true. Never having really tested my belief though, I couldn’t know its limitations. That day when I set out to paint with Alexis, my intention was to spend time with her doing something she loved. In the process, I discovered not only did I have talent, I love painting too.

Now, I could have gone through the rest of my life and been quite content with where I was at. But imagine…

Because I love painting, two years ago I built a studio in our basement so I could have my own creative space in our home. That space has been a gift. In that space the muse stirs me to places I can’t imagine until I set myself free to explore new ideas, fresh takes on the tried and true and even, to cut corners.

 

 

 

 

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Love is. We are. All One.

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The program

The program


To say that I have enjoyed the preparation for our wedding this month would be an understatement.

I have loved it, delving into each element to create something that is a reflection of C.C. and I, our relationship and the atmosphere we want to create on our special day.

Yesterday, my dear friend WC finished my outfit. It was a bigger job than either of us anticipated and her commitment to getting it done, her gracious sharing of her time and talents is amazing. I’m not sharing pictures!  That would ruin the big surprise! But I love the colours, the way the skirt flows and moves and how, because the fabric is from India, my mother’s heritage will be with me as I walk down the aisle. It is beautiful.

When I came home, I told C.C. I was going down to the studio to work on the programs. “But I thought you already had them worked out?” he said.

“I’ve changed my mind. I thought of a better way, something that’s more elegant than my original idea.”

He paused. Smiled and replied, “You know you are going to have to quit inventing things pretty soon, right?”

If I had long hair I would have flipped it over my shoulder and given him a coy, don’t state the obvious, kind of look. Instead, I shrugged one shoulder, and said, “eventually.” And headed down to the studio.

We are less than 3 weeks away from our wedding date and I am almost done. Almost.

In the meantime, I will continue to enjoy the creating for the sake of creating. I have a vision of what our day will feel and look like and I want to ensure I have all the elements that will surround each and everyone of us in beauty. I want our guests to feel that what they are experiencing is a special day, a day to celebrate, to connect, to know that love is not just ‘in the air’ but all around, in our hearts and minds and every breath we take.

For C.C., I want him to know that there is nothing in this world I would rather do than be married to him. That our love is deep. That our love is a forever kind of love capable of weathering stormy weather and blue skies flowing into tomorrow. That even though we are marrying in, ‘our later years’, we can celebrate and be excited and be happy and be in awe of this thing called love and our decision to be married, forever.

For our children, I want them to know that love is enduring. That while their parents have taken circuitous routes and along the way, stepped away from love they thought they never would, we are the cummulation of all our missteps and footsteps to this altar where their father from one marriage, and their mother from another, join together to say, I do, take this man/woman and these children to be my family. My tribe. My home.

And for our guests, I want them to know that love is eternal. It is filled with hope and promise. It is a covenant that even when we have taken missteps in our journey they were not in the wrong direction because they lead us here, to this moment, this possibility of turning towards another and connecting in love.

Love is a circle. A constant sea flowing all around us. Love is perfect but we forget sometimes, to see it through open eyes and caring hearts, allowing instead our fears and limitations to hold us separate from the promise of its presence.

Sometimes, in our belief we don’t fit into the circle, we move in and out of love, fearing it is not for us, believing it will not find us.  Love never has to find us. It is always present, always strong. And all we have to do to know its truth is believe with all our hearts we are worthy of the thing that connects us all, Love.

On April 25th, C.C. and I will be standing together with our children, stating for everyone to hear our belief in the power and the promise of love to heal, to connect, to create. And in our standing together, we will be the love we know is present.

Love is. We are. All One.

 

Tears know the language of our hearts

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I violated one of my cardinal rules last night. I cried in public.

Oh don’t worry, I didn’t do the sobbing mess of a puddle kind of tears that run mascara down my cheeks and make everyone rush for the kleenex, or possibly the Atavan. But I did cry. Or at least my eyes welled up and a couple of drops trickled down my cheeks.

It is primordial, this cardinal rule of not letting anyone see I care. It dates back to childhood days when as the youngest of four, my siblings would tease me endlessly about being ‘such a baby’. My siblings liked to tease me. I chattered a lot and asked questions that no one could answer, not that I really expected an answer, I just liked the wonderings. I believed in magic and fairy tales and was, or so they told me, ‘a spoiled brat’. In fact, ‘the brat’ became my nickname until well into my twenties when my mother suggested I might want to quit signing my letters home, “The Brat.”

I didn’t want anyone to know it bothered me. I didn’t want them to see that their words stung. And so I smiled and pretended it was okay. They kept telling me to ‘grow up’, ‘stop being so childish’, to get a life and I wanted desperately to fit in so I created rules for myself that would, I thought, make it possible for me to be part of the crowd. I thought my rules would keep me safe.

Crying was not acceptable and so, along with my rule of not crying in public I created an even bigger, inviolable rule, “Don’t let them see you care.”

Over the years I have learned I don’t need to play by my self-imposed rules. Where once I thought they kept my heart safe, I have learned these rules only keep my heart from beating freely. Challenge is, while my rules no longer serve and protect me, the ‘don’t cry in public’ is a tough one to boot out. When public tears threaten, my critter puffs himself up in fear-based indignation screaming at the top of his lungs that I must “Stop it!” And if that doesn’t work, he convinces me to dive for cover in humor.

The public tears came at Easter dinner last night. Our dear friends Kerry and Howard had invited us to join them for their annual feast and along with C.C.’s daughter, son and his girlfriend, we spent the evening enveloped in their warm hospitality.

Kerry is curious. She wants to know what makes people’s hearts beat freely, what stirs their souls and awakens their dreams. After dinner, she always asks her guests to answer a question. Last night’s was, “What is one significant blessing you’ve experienced since last Easter dinner.”

When TC, C.C’s son shared, I felt the tears start. And they just kept threatening to flow.

Such love. Such appreciation, gratitude, beauty, vulnerability.

It was all there at the dinner table and I was in awe and humbled by the heartfelt sharing of everyone.

And then, C.C. shared.

He was sitting right beside me and I felt his love embrace me. I felt myself wrapped up in caring and I just wanted to cry.

Instead, when it was my turn next, I said, “C.C. He’s my greatest blessing since last Easter. End of story.”

And I smiled.

And then I remembered, I am safe. I am okay. I am loved.

And I took a breath.

“Actually, the greatest blessing is learning to trust in love. To know that ‘disagreement does not equal rejection’ is true. That C.C. and I can disagree, argue, fight even, and it’s not the end of the world. It isn’t all over, in fact, it is our capacity to move through our disagreements that strengthens and deepens our love.”

And a tear fell.

They do that when confronted by truth. They fall. Gently. Peacefully. Joyfully.

Tears know the language of our hearts. Tears know the words our hearts cannot speak. Tears know our truth.

Once upon a time, I hid my tears because I didn’t want anyone to know I cared. I didn’t want them to know that I didn’t understand what they were saying or why it hurt my heart. I didn’t believe it was okay for my heart to hurt, or that I had the right to speak up when it did so I hid my confusion behind my smile and laughter.

Today I know, my heart only hurts when I try to pretend I don’t care.

Today, I want people to know I care, deeply. And so, I let my tears fall because I  know my tears are perfectly okay to express the joy and gratitude that flows like an endless river of love streaming from my heart.

Today I know, when I am moved to tears by the beauty of the hearts beating all around me, it is the greatest blessing of all.

Of saints and the not so saintly

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My father was a complicated man. Gregarious and generous, he loved nothing more than to invite strangers to our home for dinner and engage them in debates about politics and religion. Often, if his guests’ views were in alignment with his, he would pick the opposing perspective, just to get the conversation going.

He was a man of strong opinions and loud voice.

Conversely, he was soft-hearted and an easy mark for travelling salespeople who came to the door. I wondered sometimes if they had a secret list that only those who took to the road to sell vacuums and china and encyclopedia and Bibles knew about. On it, my father’s name was at the top. Go see Louis. He’ll buy one, maybe two of whatever you’re selling.

Over the years, my father bought pots and pans, a vacuum, a floor polisher, cutlery and sets of knives, beautiful china and at least two sets of the Encyclopedia Britannica. He also bought a Bible.

It was bound in red leather with gold embossing. The pages were paper-thin and silky. And then, there were the pictures. Beautiful, full colour, full page photos of paintings of biblical theme. Delilah cutting off Samson’s hair, pillars of salt, caravans to Damascus and Jesus and Mary and Joseph and all the Saints.

I loved the photos and would spend hours lying on the floor on my stomach, pouring over the Bible, reverently running my fingers over the paper as if through osmosis the stories could come alive in my veins, and thus my heart.

Along with the Bible, my father  also purchased a companion set of four books. Bound in red leather, The Books of the Saints told the stories of all the Saints ever canonized. From A – E, G – L, M – R, S – Z, each book also included beautiful photos of the Saints. I coveted those books, would sometimes sneak into the living room, take one down from the shelf and sit in the quiet of the morning eagerly reading and re-reading the stories of these what to me seemed almost deities and what they’d done in the world to become a Saint.

I wondered if I would ever have the courage, the strength of character, the heart and The Belief to do the kinds of things they had done to find my place not just in Heaven, but among the Saints of the world.

My mother told me I wouldn’t. I was no saint.

In fact, according to my mother, I was so far from being a saint she despaired there would ever be enough prayers in the world to get me out of Purgatory once I died.

It didn’t seem right to me. How could my fighting with my sister over who got to turn the pages of the Bible when we prayed together as a family on Friday nights keep me from Heaven? How could arguing with my brother over which Saint was the best Saint prevent me from one day being canonized myself? And how could asking question and after question about Who is God and where does he live if he’s only in church on Sundays displease God so much that he would slam the gates of Heaven shut even before I reached them?

These questions and more plagued me as a child. They caused me many a sleepless night, many a furrowed brow as I tried to figure out how to be  God-fearing, as my mother told me to be, when I knew that when I was scared, I always acted out.

Acting out was my middle name, or so my family told me. In fact, I came to believe so whole-heartedly in my inability to toe the line, conform and behave like everyone else, I gave up all hope of getting to Heaven, let alone becoming a Saint.

Which meant, I gave up on God, the Father, Son and Holy Ghost.

In my pre-teen, I think I’ll take this literally because it doesn’t make sense to me mind, it was God who put his son on the cross. Why would I want to have anything to do with someone who thought it was okay to crucify his only child? If it could happen to Jesus, it could happen to anyone and I for one had absolutely no desire to be crucified by angry, vengeful crowds who feared anyone who believed differently than them.

Turning my back on my Catholic upbringing, and the faith of my childhood, has been a blessing. It has given me space and courage to separate faith from religion and find myself where I stand, completely and fearlessly in Love with all humankind. No matter which God or what pew we worship from there is nothing separating us except our differing viewpoints. It’s allowed my heart to embrace my saintly and not so saintly qualities without fearing that the God of my childhood would not accept all of me.

And, it’s allowed me enough time and space to see that those four books and the beautiful Bible of my childhood were a rich and verdurous field of possibility. Filled with wonder and awe they continue to inspire my heart to seek the saintly in every sinner and the beauty in every soul today.

May this Easter weekend bring each of you great richness of spirit, beauty of heart and wonder in your soul.