May you know the blessing of unquantifiable, every-present Love.

Posted on December 22, 2023 by Louise Gallagher

There are countless things in life we cannot quantify, yet we invariably depend on them. The number of breaths carried by the wind remains a mystery, as does the exact count of feathers that grant a bird its graceful flight. The river flows with an untold number of droplets, just as uncountable snowflakes vanish under the warmth of the sun in this unusually gentle December.

Equally immeasurable are the memories of my sister, Jackie. I can’t quantify the number of times she crossed our home’s threshold, her arms brimming with her world-famous mashed potatoes (described as such by my daughter) and a myriad of treats for everyone – humans and dogs alike. She always brought along her favorite chilled white wine wrapped in a freezer sleeve to ensure it was ready to savor with our dinner.

I cannot recall the last Christmas dinner she wasn’t present at our table, always there to remind me to fetch the potatoes from the oven and to ensure everyone’s glasses were filled. Her mischievous request for “just one more wee drop of Scotch” from my husband, accompanied by a playful twinkle in her eye, remains a cherished memory.

I’ve lost count of the times she rang to remind me of a family member’s birthday (knowing my penchant to forget), or to check if I’d seen a post from The French Connection in our Grand Famille WhatsApp group. And, even though I cannot count the number of times she graced our home at family dinners, or brought over a meal when my husband was ill, or I was away and she was worried he was not eating, or how many times she phoned to say she was thinking of me, or called my daughters to let them know she was thinking of them, or asked about a friend she met but once at our dining room table, I could always count on Jackie to remember people, what they liked to eat, and didn’t, and to ensure whether the dinner was at our home or hers, that there was a special dish to please every palate.

It’s who she was. She cared. Deeply. Her life was an embodiment of selflessness. She was a pillar of strength and support for our mother, stepping into the role of caregiver after our brother’s passing in 1997. For 25 years, she was more than just the eldest daughter; she was our mother’s confidante, champion, a constant source of support and love.

Her caring nature knew no bounds, touching countless lives, though the exact number of people she affected with her kindness is beyond my grasp.

Today, as the earth tilts, welcoming back the sun’s embrace in the northern hemisphere, I can count my own orbits around the sun but not the individual rays that have caressed my skin. Yet, amidst all the incalculable wonders of this world, one thing remains certain: the love my sister and I shared. This love, vast and unmeasurable, is my constant. It’s a bond that transcends time, distance, and even eternity.

For this unquantifiable, ever-present love, I am eternally grateful.

Whatever your celebration, no matter your faith, may you too know the blessing of unquantifiable, ever-present love. May your table be a circle of love never-ending.

Reclaiming the Merry: A Tale of Christmas Rediscovered

Posted on November 22, 2023 by Louise Gallagher

Maybe it’s because I’ve been feeling overwhelmed lately, grappling with worries about my sister’s health (though still in ICU, she’s slowly improving every day). Or perhaps it’s just exhaustion setting in. But this year, contrary to my usual practice of keeping Christmas at bay until after my birthday on December 9th, I’m letting its festive spirit seep in a bit earlier.

In my studio, I’ve found myself eagerly creating Christmas-themed images – with watercolours no less! A medium I seldom work in. It’s been fun and I’ve even planned the name tags for our dinner table on the big day—a rarity for me, as I often convince myself that working under the pressure of an imminent deadline is the ultimate creativity booster.

However, the truth is, deadlines and pressure don’t really inspire creativity. In fact, I find that planning, researching ideas, and experimenting with different themes and tablescapes are far more conducive to sparking my creative juices.

This resistance to early Christmas celebrations stems from my childhood. My birthday often got overshadowed by the festive season, with ‘the party’ frequently skipped over because Christmas was a grand affair in our home. My parents would be busy in the kitchen, crafting culinary masterpieces with the same zeal I imagine Santa’s elves demonstrate while preparing toys for children around the world.

As an adult, I decided that my birthday mattered and that Christmas could wait its turn.

Despite my efforts, however, the omnipresence of Christmas is undeniable. The moment Halloween decorations are put away, big box stores are awash with Christmas paraphernalia.

It’s challenging to escape the Christmas frenzy, whether you’re a believer in the Christ-child or not. The season’s spirit permeates the air, with twinkling lights adorning lampposts and front doors decked out in festive bows, bells, and baubles.

This year, as Christmas nudges its way into my consciousness earlier than usual, I realize there’s a silver lining to embracing its spirit ahead of my birthday. It’s an opportunity to redefine the essence of this festive season in my own terms, to make it about more than just the glitz, glitter and glam.

The fact is, it’s almost impossible to ignore the commercialization of Christmas. At the same time, however, its important we not lose sight of its true meaning. It’s not about the biggest tree, the most expensive gifts, or the most elaborate decorations. Rather, it’s about the warmth of family kand friends gathered around a dinner table, the joy of baking cookies with children, and the laughter that fills the air when friends reconnect. It’s about the simple acts of kindness, the moments of quiet reflection, and the recognition of our shared humanity.

This holiday season, no matter your celebration or remembrance, I invite you to join me in shifting your focus from spending to sharing, from buying to being. Let’s make Christmas a time to honor the joy of human connection, to cherish the moments spent with loved ones, and to reach out to those who might be alone during this season. In doing so, we not only honour the spirit of Christmas but also enrich our own lives with genuine happiness and contentment.

As I look forward to celebrating my birthday and then Christmas, I am reminded that the greatest gift I can give and receive is the gift of presence. Presence in the moment, presence in the lives of those I care about, and presence in the joyous celebration of life itself.

This Christmas, I hope you join me in stepping into the true magic of the season not through the things you buy, but through time shared with those you love and the memories you create together. I hoipe you embrace the spirit of Christmas not as a commercial holiday, but as a celebration of life, love, and the gift of being together. In that embrace, let’s make it a time to honor our human condition with joy, for that is the true essence of Christmas.

__________________________________

As part of my ‘self-care’, I am off to coach at Discovery Seminars for five days. It’s an opportunity to be of service and to be embraced in a circle where love shimmers in every shared word, breath and act of kindness. It’s a time to be part of contributing my best to inspire others to find their own light so that together, we can create a world of peace, harmony and joy. And it’s a time for me to be restored, refreshed and revitalized.

I’ll be back Monday.

Until then, Merry Joyful Everything

These are the faces of love

Posted on February 7, 2023 by Louise Gallagher

Alive in Love
By Louise Gallagher

These are the faces of love
flowing
between hearts
beating
wild
the song that never ends
in the key of life
running full
with the joy
of being
alive
in this moment where
small hands
touch my tender heart
breaking
open.

These are the glorious moments
that fill my world
overflowing
with the exquisite nature
of one tiny raindrop
plump with an entire world
of beauty
reflected in its perfect
orb
suspended
in life’s 
unfathomable mysteries
holding me
tenderly
in this moment
where the only place to be
is alive in Love.

Keep Going.

Posted on December 31, 2022 by Louise Gallagher

Awhile ago, at a Christmas cocktail party, a fellow artist and I were speaking about art-making and the things we’ve learned through both writing and art-making.

Like me, she’s written a blog for several years but recently quit as she wasn’t ‘getting anything out of it’, she said.

I thought about her response and my own experience of blog writing and suddenly, like fireworks lighting up the sky on New Year’s eve, felt this crystal clear thought burst into brilliant light within my mind. “Writing a blog every day has taught me to always trust in the process,” I said. “And making art has taught me to always keep going. To not give into self-doubt or criticism. To trust that if I’m not happy with it, it’s because it’s not done with me yet.”

The Memory Bowls I created for both my sisters this Christmas were an opportunity to lean into what art-making has taught me.

As I layered paper and medium and then painted the bowls gold I kept hearing the voice in my head hissing, “This is ridiculous. It’s going to be a disaster. Quit while you’re ahead.”

I’d never made a ‘memory bowl’ before and was making up the process as I went along. I wanted to give in. To heed that hissing voice but, the muse kept whispering back, “Push through. Keep going.”

I don’t think it’s wise to ignore the muse, so that’s what I did. I kept going, layering and painting and collaging in pieces of memory to create two bowls that tell the story of our parent’s lives.

My middle sister told me she’s going to keep it in her bedroom for her jewelry. My eldest sister wants to put it on a stand for show.

Regardless of how they display or use the bowls, I am grateful for the reminder that, while in life we can’t see what tomorrow may bring, or what will happen next, when we remain committed to the journey, when we stay the course and keep pushing through, we create space for magic, wonder, awe and beauty to appear.

As 2022 slips away and a new year bursts open upon the horizon, magic, mystery and wonder shimmer in the darkness of the unkown the future holds.

There will be trials and tribulations. There will be trauma and grief. And in the midst of it all, no matter how dark the night, or rough the road, magic, wonder, mystery, possibility and above all, LOVE, will also be present. In the midst of darkness, love whispers, “keep going”. In the depths of despair, hope chants, “keep going” and in the dimness of day becoming night, possibility calls out, “keep going”.

2022 art-making taught me to ‘keep going’. What is a lesson you learned in 2022?

I wish you all a beautiful and loving New Year.

These are some photos and a video of one of the memory bowls I made.

From Me to You. Thank You.

Posted on January 6, 2022 by Louise Gallagher

I awoke this morning with gratitude filling my heart as I thought of all the beautiful comments and love I received yesterday.

It is hard to describe how your words and support fill my heart, lessening fear and worry and lighting up my day.

And so… I wrote this for all of you.

From Me to You
Louise Gallagher

If I have but one prayer
let it be, Thank You.

Thank you for the sunrises
and settings,
the clear skies and grey days.
Thank you for the moments
that fill my heart with joy
and the ones that push it to breaking
open 
wide
to all the beauty that surrounds me.

Thank you for the easy roads
and rough trails.
Thank you for the calm waters
and stormy seas.
Thank you for the love and laughter,
the pain, the sorrow and tears.

Thank you for all of it
for all of it is held
within the sacred nature
of this wondrous life
full of unfathomable mysteries
and inexplicable tragedies,
ripe with breath-taking moments of awe
and back-breaking moments of grief.

Thank you for all of it
for all of it is a gift
and within all of it
Love beats its steady tattoo
calling me to rise up
and dance and sing
and twirl about
and shout out loud,
I am grateful for each breath,
each moment of this life
and all who walk alongside me
and make the hard places softer
and the easy times more thrilling
and the worries and dark times lighter
and the joys and laughter brighter. 
Thank you.

Happy 70 Annie!

Posted on May 18, 2021 by Louise Gallagher

Three years ago, she had open heart surgery to replace a valve that had been replaced 15 years previously and was wearing out.

Six weeks after the surgery, she was back in hospital for a month with a life-threatening infection. Every day while in hospital, she’d grab her ‘dolly’ that fed her a constant stream of antibiotics and walk the hospital corridor to ensure she reached her 10,000 steps a day goal.

On Tuesday, last week, to celebrate and mark her 70th birthday today, she walked 70,000 steps. It took 11 hours but she did not stop until she reached and surpassed her goal by a couple of hundred steps, And as she walked along the coastal road of Gabriola Island where she and her husband have lived for the past five years, people greeted her and cheered her on. I imagine some of them even said, “There’s that crazy Annie! Walking. Walking. Walking.” While secretly, they wished they had her verve, her commitment, her energy and her smile.

My sister Anne turns 70 today.

The age is not remarkable. She wears it effortlessly, making it appear much younger than its years.

She, however, is. Remarkable.

As children, we played and fought together. When one of us had done something ‘wrong’, we’d bribe the other to not tell our parents by passing back and forth one of our favourite toys. I often had two bride dolls. She often possessed two Teddy Bears.

In our teens, we were close. We still fought but nothing could break us apart.

Anne was the quiet one. I was the boisterous, more adventurous one. She wrote poetry. I wrote scary stories. I skied and ran and taught swimming while she read books and wrote more poetry and quietly went about making sure everyone around her was comfortable, well-cared for, and not in need of anything vital.

Two and a half years my senior, I have always acted as the older sister. Even as kids I liked to play the protector. And the boss. In our games of make-believe, I always set the scene, dictated which roles she played and generally took charge.

Anne always followed my lead, gently, quietly, without acrimony. But, cross her… well, let’s just say I learned quickly that her sense of right and wrong is very strong, laser sharp and accurate. I couldn’t get away with anything that crossed that line. And I’m grateful. She kept me out of buckets of trouble, and was always there for me when I hit a rough spot, or took a wrong turn, or went for an experience bigger than I could handle alone.

I also knew that no matter what, she would have my back. It’s who she is. There for whomever needs her. Willing to pitch in to do what is needed. Always in her quiet, unassuming, gentle way.

For the past week I have been putting together a video for her birthday – it’s been a labour of love and memory and appreciation. As friends sent in video clips and messages I was blessed with hearing about my sister through their many voices.

What an amazing gift.

Their words and messages shone a light on who I know my sister to be but didn’t always know the world could see… Kind. Thoughtful. Indefatigable. Determined. A good friend. A generous neighbour. A loyal co-worker. A beautiful, shining human being. A caretaker of the weak. A custodian of flora and fauna. A lover of chocolate. A smile that never burns out. And a heart that never quits loving nor beating fiercely with her love of life, laughter and nature.

I am so very grateful that Annie, as our father always called her, is my sister. So grateful that there is not one day of my life that she has not been in it.

Happy Birthday Annie.

You are one of a kind and the world is so much better because you make it so. Every day. In every way.

It Is. Enough.

Posted on December 15, 2020 by Louise Gallagher

This morning, when I visited David Kanigan’s blog before coming here to write, the sight of his photos married to the quote he shared brought tears to my eyes. (to experience the quote with the photos click HERE – you won’t be disappointed)

The quote that stirred my emotions (though to be honest, it was his photos of clouds drifting in a rose-drenched morning sky that got me first) was Keep Moving: Notes on Loss, Creativity, and Change, by Maggi Smith.

David offers up this quote from the book,

Remember when you would have been over-the-moon thrilled to have just a fraction of your life as it is now?

Look around you: it is enough.

KEEP MOVING

And the tears wash over me as I write a response…

I want to rail against the notion, that if I look around me, I will see it is enough.

I want to cry out in strident opposition, No. It Is Not Enough.

And then I smile (wistfully and a bit sheepishly perhaps) as I remember, whether I think it is enough or not, what is around me right now is all there is. It is what is.

I do as Maggie Smith suggests. I look around me.

The house sleeps in the quiet of the darkness before dawn. The white Christmas lights that I spent an afternoon festooning along the glass railings of the deck, in an effort to bring me into the Christmas spirit, glow softly like candles in the dark. Inside, on my desk, the light of a candle flickers on the photo taken at my mother’s 95th birthday two years ago. I am with my 2 sisters, my 2 daughters, my then 6-month-old grandson and my mother.

4 generations that now live on in 3.

It wasn’t a Covid loss. My mother’s passing in February was just time having had its fill of her life.

And perhaps that is where the tears come from. Not only will my mother not be amongst us this Christmas, we will all be in our separate houses. Alone.

And my heart aches in the reality of what is.

I want to say, it’s not enough.

And must breathe into the reality — It is what it is.

______________________

We are all facing that reality – a global experience of loss, change, aloneness, separateness.

Perhaps, out of all of this, what will truly be known is how we are all connected. How we need one another. How it is our relationships that make our life rich and beautiful and oh so vibrant.

Perhaps, when Covid has had its way and we are on our way to healing these months of sequestered solitude, we will find ourselves together again and in that togetherness, will let go of the squabbles and differences that keep us apart.

Perhaps, when we are together again, we will celebrate our human condition in all its billions of unique expressions and let the gazillion things that we tell ourselves about why we must maintain our separateness, go.

Perhaps, we will relate through our magnificence and not our mediocrity.

Perhaps, we will all remember that we are all on this one earth, this one giant ball spinning its way around the sun year after year, together. That it is not our differences that separate us, but our thoughts and ideas and notions of what is right and wrong, possible and impossible, mine and yours.

And perhaps, in discovering how much we need one another, in realizing how connected we are, we will find the courage, strength and compassion to invite everyone into our hearts so that no matter where in the world we are, no matter how fragile or fabulous our human condition or how tiny or large our square footage, we will remember, We Are One.

And perhaps, in that oneness, we will know, once and for all, that we do not own this earth we call our home. We are its inhabitants, its guests and above all its guardians.

For what I do to the earth, I do to you.

Let me only do Love with all my heart, all my being, all my magnificence shining on yours.

And so it shall be.

And so it is. Enough.

Namaste.

The Heart Never Forgets

Posted on April 15, 2020 by Louise Gallagher

George P. Gallagher
April 15, 1948 – March 17, 1997

The Heart Never Forgets
by Louise Gallagher

There was a time,
when your words and the things you did made me laugh
a time when your smile felt gentle on my heart
like warm spring rain after a harsh winter.

And then there are those times
when your words pierced my skin
slicing as sharp as a dagger to an apple’s core
leaving my heart exposed to the harsh cold winds of your anger.

There was a time.

Those times are all gone now
ended when your life careened, out of control
like a bullet racing steadily towards its target
on the road to forever gone.

I would take them all back
the good times and the bad
the laughter and the fights
I would take them all back to have you here again.

But there is no going back on death
No rewinding of time to get back those long-ago days.
There is only this time, flowing ever onward, relentlessly
carrying me towards the day when I too shall be, forever gone.

There will come a time when I will meet you there
on the road to forever gone. And when we meet, you will smile
and the past will be forgotten and our hearts will remember only
that which the heart never forgets, Love.

___________________

Perhaps it is that my brother loved to have a big fuss made about his birthday, at least until he started seeing signs of what he didn’t want to see, getting older.

Or perhaps it is that his passing was St. Patrick’s Day and I am wary of mixing laughter and good-times with the day he entered the realm of the ‘forever gone’.

Or perhaps, it is that his death along with the death of his wife, Ros who died in the same crash, was such a trauma-filled time, a time of grief and anger, of broken hearts leading to a broken family circle.

Whatever the reason, it is always on the day of his birth that his memory is strongest. A day I was not there for because, as I always liked to remind him, he was much older than me.

It is hard to imagine my brother at 72, which he would have been today. His memories are frozen in time, his face captured in photographs that ended on that day in March when time stopped moving forward for him, and we began the journey of learning to move on without him.

It was just before his 49th birthday. My sisters and I used to joke that George wouldn’t have enjoyed his 50th. It was too clear a delineation between younger days and older ones to come. He would not have liked the reminders that would have tumbled in on waves of love and laughter from his family and many, many friends. But we would all have loved the opportunity to get back at him for the countless pranks and jokes he had played on all of us.

It would have been my brother’s 72nd birthday today.

He is forever gone, as is the past. Today, my heart only remembers him with that which the heart never forgets, Love.

Ring In The New Year!

Posted on January 2, 2020 by Louise Gallagher

The New Year has begun. Gratitude rises. Love expands.

After several delightful days in Vancouver with my daughter, son-in-love and grandson (he is AMAZING!), we arrived on Gabriola Island to spend New Years Eve with my sister and her husband. This morning, we are preparing to leave for Tofino. The forecast is rain (after my beloved finishes watching the Canada/Czech World Juniors Hockey Game that is! 🙂 ). My outlook is sunny.

Storms on the west coast. Moody. Dramatic. Captivating.

Walking the beach. Smelling the salt stung air. Hearing the waves crash.

My kind of magic.

Yesterday was a bright blue sky day. The sun danced on the ocean. The mountains glistened in the distance and my heart sang a song of joy.

My sister and I did the Gabriola Polar Bear Swim (it was my second, her third) — or as one woman at the beach called it — the Dunk and Dash.

Yup. That was me. I ran in. Dunked. Ran out.

It was worth it! To begin the year with a dip in the Pacific Ocean, chilly waters and all.

I am looking forward to Tofino. Looking forward to quiet time to reflect on the amazingness of the year past, to fill my memory bucket with gratitude for all that transpired, all I received, all I experienced. And, to open my heart to all that is possible in this year to come when I let go of worry and fear of what the future may hold and flow with grace into being present in this moment of Love unfolding.

It has been a grand end of a year and the beginning of the next.