Category Archives: letting go of fear

In-Between Life, Death and Acceptance

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In the silent aftermath of loss, the world feels surreal, as if you’ve stepped into an alternate reality where everything is both familiar and strangely alien. You’re adrift in a sea of ‘what now?’ and ‘what next?’, where the compass of your previous life no longer points north. This is the disorienting landscape of the ‘new normal’ – a term that feels almost too mild to describe the seismic shift in your existence.

But within this disorientation, within this uncharted territory, there is a profound opportunity for transformation. It’s in these in-between spaces – between life, death, and acceptance – that we find the fertile ground for growth. It’s where the seeds of new habits, perspectives, and understandings can be sown.

It’s scary, yes. The familiar routines and habits that once structured our days dissolve, leaving us feeling unmoored. Yet, it’s in this space where the old no longer serves, and the new hasn’t yet taken root, that we can begin to reimagine our lives. It’s a chance to ask ourselves, ‘Who am I now, in this world without my loved one?’ and ‘What truly matters to me?’

Embracing this in-between time is not about rushing to fill the void with distractions or false cheer. It’s about allowing yourself to be present in the discomfort, to sit with the uncertainty, and to listen to the quiet whisper of your heart as it begins to chart a new course.

It’s a time for self-compassion, for understanding that grief doesn’t follow a neat, linear path. Some days, you might find yourself taking a step forward, while on others, you might retreat two steps back into the cocoon of your old life. And that’s okay. Healing is not a race; it’s a journey.

This journey is also an opportunity to cultivate healthy new habits that honour both your loss and your continuing life. Perhaps it’s starting a gratitude journal, where you acknowledge the small joys and memories that still light up your days. Maybe it’s taking up a new hobby that you’ve always wanted to try. It could be as simple as a daily walk, where you connect with nature and the rhythms of life that persist all around you.

In these habits, we find not only a way to navigate our new normal but also a way to keep our connection to our loved one alive. They become part of the tapestry of our new life, woven with threads of memory, love, and resilience.

The new normal is not a destination; it’s a process. It’s a gradual unfolding, a slow blossoming into a life that’s different but still rich with meaning and possibility. It’s a life where the memories of our loved ones continue to inspire and guide us, even as we forge new paths.

As you navigate your own transition through this in-between space, remember that you’re not alone. Countless others have walked this path and have found their way through the wilderness of grief. And in this shared human experience, there’s a strange comfort. It reminds us that love, loss, and renewal are essential threads in the fabric of life.

In this journey, every small step forward is an act of courage, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. It’s a reminder that even in the shadow of loss, life persists in all its messy, beautiful complexity. And in embracing this new normal, we honour not just the memory of those we’ve lost, but also the enduring strength and grace of our own souls.

Rediscovering Joy – Studio Spaces and Creative Practices

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Watercolour on paper — the little flecks are gold glitter sprinkled over it (hard to capture in a photo)

After a considerable hiatus, I decided it was time to reacquaint myself with my studio, a space that had been longing for my return.

Yesterday, I ventured in with a practical goal: to reorganize, reduce, recommit to daily artistic practice as well as creative writing (Since returning from my writer’s retreat in Ireland last month, I still haven’t touched the play I began crafting on that retreat) . I planned to relocate my ‘working’ desk out of the alcove at the bottom of the staircase, to a cozy corner near the French doors in my studio. This strategic move wasn’t just about logistics. It was more about capturing the serene beauty of my backyard, with its picturesque view of trees gracefully lining the river bank and, to create a welcoming space where I could write everyday, immersed in the creative energy of my studio.

In the midst of tidying up, arranging pens, and storing away the paints I had used weeks earlier for crafting name tags for a dinner party, something unexpected happened. I stumbled into a moment of spontaneous creativity.

Inspired by an Instagram video I’d seen a few days ago, I delved into the art of crafting simple yet charming Christmas cards using watercolors and pen. The focus was on replicating the artist’s technique of painting small, ball-like ornaments. What began as a practice session quickly turned into an exhilarating, yet meditative, journey of fun and discovery.

This playful interlude became more than just an artistic endeavor. It offered a respite from the heavy thoughts that have been weighing on my mind – concerns about my sister’s health, the ongoing turmoil in Israel, Palestine, Ukraine, and other troubled parts of the world. In those moments of artistic immersion, I found a sense of lightness, a reprieve from the world’s burdens.

The studio transformed into a sanctuary where possibilities felt endless, and even a fleeting sense of peace seemed attainable. Soft music played in the background, complementing the rhythmic flow of the river outside, a soothing reminder of the world’s continuous, unrelenting beauty.

In this creative escape, I realized something profound. While I may not possess the power to alter the course of global events, I am capable of calming the storms within my own mind. The fears, the worries, the disturbing thoughts that often invade my peace – I was reminded that I can quiet them, even if just for a while.

Those moments of artistic play were a gentle nudge, reminding me that amidst the chaos, love remains a constant, resilient force. And that, no matter how harsh the winds are blowing outside, it’s in these personal spaces of creativity and joy that we find the strength to face the world, reassured that even in the darkest times, love endures.

What about you? How/where do you find peace in turbulent times?

PS. Good news. My sister woke up yesterday. Though the intubation tubing limits her ability to talk, she can and did smile. The infection still rages and the doctors will be doing a CatScan today to see how much of her body it’s invaded, but, the fact she woke up is a great sign!

Thank you for your thoughts and prayers, words of encouragment and presence. ❤

Reconnecting with Creativity: The She Dares Boldly 2024 Calendar Journey

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2024 Calendar Cover — 11 x 6 inches

In the midst of uncertainty, I can sometimes become lost in the confusion and chaos. That’s why the February page for my 2024 She Dares Boldly calendar speaks so emphaticaly to me. “In the midst of chaos, she dares to create calm.”

In the midst of my uncertainty, I am choosing to create calm through creative expression.

Ms February

Which is why I’ve made a decision. After many request, I’ve chosen to overcome my hesitancy. The She Dares Boldly 2024 calendar is a definite “go.” This decision didn’t come easily, as I’ve found myself pulled in different directions and faced with unexpected obstacles. But now, with my newfound determination strengthening my spine, and calmness easing my pounding heart, I’m excited to share the journey of creating this calendar.

My hesitance to commit to the calendar project stemmed from several factors. Over the past few months, I haven’t spent much time in my studio. My work computer took over the space last spring, and the inconvenience of moving it every time I wanted to create became a bigger impediment than I initially thought. Plus, summer isn’t typically when I find myself in the studio.

However, as I began to compile the artwork for the calendar, reality struck: I need to produce five new images and quotes before I can send the calendar to the printer. This became my motivation to rekindle my creative spirit.

First things first, I relocated my work computer back to its original desk. It’s a small adjustment since my current contract ends at month’s end, and the computer will be moving along. This change cleared the way for the magic to happen.

Then came the weekend when two women emerged: Ms. February and Ms. June. These were not just months; they represented the rebirth of my creativity. The act of splashing paint, finger-painting, layering colors, and textures ignited my soul. It was a soul-nourishing experience, one that reminded me of the sustaining power of creative expression.

Ms. June

I had forgotten.

Creative expression is a gift—one we can choose to use or lose. The beauty of art-making is that you don’t actually lose the ability; you merely forget how vital it is for mental health and well-being.

I had forgotten.

But over two days of playful interaction with paint, I was once again immersed, feeling alive, refreshed, and replenished. Yet, there’s a challenge ahead: discipline. Alongside preparing the calendar for printing, I need to tackle marketing tasks to ensure it’s ready for the holiday season. Simultaneously, I don’t want to lose momentum on the play I started writing during my time in Ireland. Additionally, there are a few loose ends to tie up for the not-for-profit I’ve been working with before my contract concludes.

Discipline becomes a fragile concept, especially when I’m immersed in the studio. However, knowing what I’m working toward and what it means to me to achieve my goals is essential.

For me, releasing my calendars (and any creative output for that matter) into the world brings immense joy. I relish the way people respond to them, how the quotes attached to the images resonate with them. It fills my heart with joy.

And so, I return full circle to the calendars.

Creating them brings me joy.

And that’s a wonderful thing!

Stay tuned for more updates on the She Dares Boldly 2024 calendar—it’s eager to make its mark on the world!

Scorched

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C.C. and I set out late one afternoon for the west coast. We didn’t know what the drive would be like. Fires burned throughout the interior. The news was grim. Had we left the next day, we’d have been forced to take a long detour as the Highway closed due to one of the fires swooping down from the mountain side, jumping the highway and cutting off access.

We couldn’t see the numerous fires burning all around but the air was heavy with the smell and feel of smoke. The sky ominous. Apocalyptic.

We made it through to the coast and spent ten wonderful days with family in Vancouver and on Gabriola Island. C.C. was happy to spend the week on Gabriola with my sister and her husband — gracious hosts they share their beautiful home on the mountainside overlooking the ocean with open arms, hearts and kitchen. Despite having broken a kneecap two months ago, my sister never fails to cook up delectable and copious amounts of vegan fare.

In Vancouver, I savoured time with my daughter and her family, my grandchildren filling my heart to overflowing with joy and laughter.

On Monday, the highway once again open for passage, we drove back beneath smoke-filled skies while fires continued to burn out of control, though not as pressing up against cities, villages and homes as before.

When we reached the area where the fire had jumped the highway, it was grim.

Burnt out trees. Downed powerlines. Shells of cars littered driveways where once a garage stood in front of a home that was now vanished.

The devastation was both surreal and terrifying.

I stand in awe of the courage shown by firefighters and those families who frantically safeguarded their dearest belongings, escorting their children and pets to safety.

A friend relayed a harrowing account: ash and smoke blanketed the sky for days. They were away when the winds changed, steering the fire towards their home. News of their community’s fate was scarce, leading to an agonizing night of uncertainty. Miraculously, the fire forked around their property, sparing them and their neighbors. But not everyone was as fortunate. On their side of the lake, 170 properties were either damaged or devoured by the flames, with another 139 in West Kelowna also lost.

And still, the fires persist.

Driving through the fire’s path, witnessing its unyielding march to the lake, was both a humbling and heart-wrenching experience. The scale of the devastation was overwhelming.

But in the midst of this tragedy, I find solace. No lives were lost. I’m grateful for the brave souls who confront such perils head-on, ensuring others find safety. And I’m relieved that our friends have a home to return to.

Namaste.

Scorched
By Louise Gallagher

Red hot
forest
earth
scorched black
grasses seared
grimy soot scattered
beneath billowing clouds
pregnant
with smoky vapors
wafting
on the wind
like ghostly messengers
telegraphing 
Mother Nature’s losses
to distant horizons.

Far above, soaring
swoops
of blue-sky sail
effortlessly to infinity.

In every ending 
a beginning
opens the door
to new tomorrows.

Claiming Joyful Imperfection

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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 ❤

Where words bloom like roses.

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I played in my studio this weekend. It has been a while.

Though summer is often a time of little studio play, this year’s sojourn away from its creative space was especially long.

I kept telling myself I was bored with it all. I just wasn’t interested. I had other things to do.

In reality, and retrospect, I was engaging in a lot of self-denial of engagement with the things that lift me up, balance and challenge me, and give my creative essence the spark it needs to keep flowing freely. And, when my creative essence flows freely, I feel calmer, happier, more spacious, more ‘me’.

I know I am not alone in my self-denial of the things I know are good for me.

Some time ago, I was chatting with a woman at the park as we walked along the river. Her two-year-old rescue, Toby, wanted desperately to play with Beaumont the Sheepadoodle. Beau was only interested in my throwing the ball.

Like me, she loves to write.

“I started a book three years ago,” she shared. “When COVID hit, I thought it would be the opportune time to finish it. I’m still only a quarter of the way through.”

I shared some of my unfinished manuscript stories and we both laughed and promised to check in on one another’s progress at our next park encounter.

Recently, we ran into each other again at the park. We chatted for a while until finally I blurted out, “So… I don’t have much of an update on progress to report.”

Sheepishly, she shared she didn’t either.

We chatted awhile about the obstacles, the why not’s, and the things that got in our way of doing what we say we want to do.

“I desperately want to finish it,” she said of her manuscript. “I just don’t know if I can.”

We looked at each other when she said that and laughed.

It is a shared experience.

See, intellectually I know I can do it but… and there’s always a but… my lack of conviction of the ‘can’ has more to do with the critter-mind’s constant chattering about why I shouldn’t do it.

Now that was a revelation as I sat in meditation this morning.

Why does the critter-mind believe I shouldn’t do it?

The answer is fairly simple.

The critter-mind always believes it knows best, particularly when it comes to keeping me safe. And the critter-mind believes that convincing me not to devote the time, energy and creative power necessary to complete this book is safer than risking failing, or never getting it published, or having it panned by readers, yada, yada, yada.

And so I wonder… What would happen if I simply turn up, pay attention and stay unattached to the outcome?

Will the critter-mind lose its power to convince me not to do it? In staying unattached to the outcome, will the creative act of putting words onto a page become the process through which I experience joy, happiness, fulfillment and love?

I wonder… What would happen if I imagine every word I type to be an act of love? Will words bloom into everything I imagine?

Fear or Courage – Which will you choose?

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A question often asked in many personal development courses is, “What is your greatest fear?”

I don’t know what mine is. I can imagine it. Like I fear losing my loved ones. I fear losing the use of my limbs, not being able to type, not being able to read.”

For a few tenuous moments this morning, that particular fear of not being able to read felt a little more real than usual. I woke up, put on my glasses, picked up my phone to do WORDLE and it all look a tad blurry.

What?

And then I checked my glasses.

They were a very old pair. Far to weak for my eyes today.

Ahhhh….. Whew! No wonder everything was blurry.

My eyesight was quickly remedied and I carried on.

But it got me thinking about how fear limits my experience of what is real and true and beautiful in my life in this moment. Fear traps me in darkness.

So, how do we avoid letting fear drive us into our limiting beliefs that end up liminting our full joyful appreciation of life?

We let courage draw us out and into living on the wild side, living as if time is not ‘the enemy’ but our co-conspirator in creating the life we dream of, the life we want, the life we deserve.

That’s my plan.

To be drawn by courage into complete, wild self-expression of my true self coming alive, becoming all of me with every breath I take.

What about you? Do you have a plan? Do you have a clear intention of how you want to, will, age?

I hope so.

And I hope you share your thoughts. You inspire me!

Fearless in Fear’s Presence

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Fear is a stealthy stalker. Invisible. Scentless. Soundless. It slips in and takes up residence without our even realizing it’s arrived.

All of which makes it hard to realize it is present and holding us in its thrall. And then, without warning, we catch ourselves holding back from stepping out, turning away from an open door, hiding in the shadows of some dark and heavy thought. If we’re lucky, if we’re awake enough, we become aware of its presence and its sinuous tendrils clinging to our every thought and action.

It is then we have a choice.

To live in fear or Love.

.I started this Dare Boldly: No matter your age series because I did not want to fear ageing. I wanted to dance in wondrous gratitude with all I am and all I am becoming as I continue this ageing and ageless journey called, my life.

Yet, until I started focussing my thoughts on daring to age boldly, I hadn’t realized how much fear was also present.

What a wonderful gift. To become aware of fear inviting me to shy away from being all I am in this moment right now. To become conscious of how fear was keeping me from true and full self-expression.

It isn’t that I’m afraid of ageing. Intellectually, I know ageing happens. It is a natural outcome of living.

The thing I’m afraid of is the consequences of ageing. The tangible, visible, hard-to-ignore evidence that time is having its way with my body

And here’s the thing, in writing and talking about it I am learning to embrace my fear, to welcome it in as a co-conspirator of my awakening to the wonderful gifts of ageing. They are all wrapped up in the beauty of each breath, each heartbeat, each step I take every day. They arrive n the beauty of each day’s awakening. The gentle slumber of each night’s rest and all the in-between moments where I am free to express myself, move, and be myself in a world of beauty, wonder and awe.

The more I meditate on and write about fear of ageing, the more I recognize it as a companion on this path.

The more I also realize, fear doesn’t have to lead the way.

That’s my heart’s job.

Like the pistons converting fuel into energy and pumping it through the engine of a car, my heart converts all I experience, all I know, all I am into the energy that fuels my body, my life.

My heart knows the way. It has the beat. It is the rhythm of my life. And, when I get out of its way, fear loses its grip and fades into the background chorus of my heart joyfully beating its song of love.

In that place, I become fearless in fear’s presence.

The Circle of Life Carries On

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The Circle of Life Carries On
by Louise Gallagher
“Help me! I’m falling,” called the leaf to the limb.


The limb whispered back, “You must let go and let Mother Nature catch you.”



“But it will be the end of me,” cried the leaf.



“Hang on or let go, your life will end,” said the limb. “It is nature’s way..”
 


Frightened, the leaf clung tighter to the limb 
as the autumn winds blew fierce.



The limb shook, the leaf fell and nature had its way.



Winter came followed by spring bursting 
with leaves unfolding. 


The circle of life carries on, unending.

I am Alive. What a Beautiful Gift.

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There’s a meme going around social media sites asking readers something like, “If you remember playing outside until the street lights came on, or, If you remember running barefoot in the yard and drinking out of the garden hose, or squishing the orange dot into the margarine that came in a bag…. then you had a great childhood. (or something like that)

We baby-boomers, we like to tell our offspring, had it good. Freedom to play outside without fearing strangers. Freedom to go to the park on our own, play on death-defying carousel thingies with metal bars without fearing we’d puke (’cause that would be so cool anyway!) or chip a tooth on the wooden teeter-totter with the metal handlebar – which I did but nobody seemed phased by the blood running out of my mouth as I ran across the cement to the swings that had metal seats and rusted chains, determined I’d finally be able to pump so hard I went all the way around over the top.

Without a parent or other adult around, there was no one around to tell me to stop — and I definitely wasn’t going to listen to my five years-older-than-me-brother who’d jumped off the teeter-totter while I was midair and precipitated my hard-landing and chipped tooth.

We baby-boomers had it good.

I wonder sometimes, where were our parents? Why did they give us so much freedom?

I don’t believe it wasn’t because they didn’t care, or thought the world was a super-safe place to be. They’d just come through WW2. How could they think that? How could they believe there weren’t dangers out there?

What I’ve come to believe is that they were war-weary. Tired-out from deprivation and rationing, tired-out by fearing would they or their loved ones get through it at all. Tired-out by wondering would it ever end.

And when it did end, they wanted to believe there was nothing to fear and so… they let their offspring, we the baby-boomers, run free as if we had not a care in the world as they continued to do what they’d always done, take care of business.

Busy building families, rebuilding towns and cities, homes and lives, busy trying to bury the past beneath the memories of all they’d seen and lost, they didn’t have time to go to the park or watch our every move or schedule our every second.

They were in survival mode. Mental health, PTSD, Trauma-informed practices weren’t yet a thing. All they could do was keep surviving.

Covid has led me to this awareness.

As the world struggles to open up again and we learn to adjust to living with its presence amongst us like a memory that refuses to fade-away, I am feeling the angst of wanting to let go of caution and run like that childhood me as if I have not a care in the world.

I am feeling the desire to pretend there is nothing to fear but fear itself.

Fact is, there is a lot in this world to fear – but…

Fear. Worry. They change nothing and, have an innate ability to grow stronger the more I give into their stealthy presence.

Running barefoot in the grass, lying on my back in the prairie grasses at the top of a hill, arms and legs spread wide simply to feel the sun and earth bathe me in glorious warmth. Singing my heart out amidst the trees or standing outside the grocery store singing a made-up song into the phone to my granddaughter simply to hear her laugh and not caring who hears. Throwing and smashing eggs on the rocks beneath the bridge as a train goes rumbling overhead and screaming at the top of my lungs…. now those things do change everything.

Because, in those things I am reminded, I am alive.

And isn’t that a beautiful gift.