This morning, as I settled into my desk chair in front of the expansive window overlooking the river—where poplars and shrubs are just bursting into spring’s wardrobe—the voice within me, that wise and ancient friend full of universal wisdom and song, whispered, “Hello old friend.”
A few weeks back, I ambitiously declared I would write here Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Full disclosure: I called it my ‘plan.’ Now, let’s just say it was more of a fleeting ‘idea.’
Or, perhaps more accurately, I’ll refer to it as ‘when the muse beckons.’
A little backstory to my lengthy absences here: In February, I dove into a two-month course that led me to sign up for a year-long program aimed at building an online coaching business. I launched my “The ReWrite Journey” 8-week program in January, brimming with enthusiasm for its possibilities. But marketing it? Creating enticing videos and social media shout-outs to attract participants? Let’s just say I was starting at the bottom of a deep well of ‘unknowingness’.
I was once fluent in three languages, but this marketing jargon? It might as well be Greek—and I only know five words in that!
So, true to form when faced with a new challenge, I leapt in—arms wide, heart first, body following. I’d love to say I dived in gracefully, but let’s be real: it was a full-on cannonball. I hit the water with a loud “SPLAT” and plunged into the unknown depths of Clicks, Funnels, and Lead Generators. Every day I encounter new ideas and concepts so vast, I’m not sure there’s an end to this digital marketing well.
Needless to say, I’ve been feeling a bit like Alice tumbling down an endless rabbit hole of Internet marketing.
This morning, I came up for air. The truth is, I’m genuinely enjoying the discovery of all the nuances in creating an online teaching business that authentically and meaningfully serves the women I aim to support. After all, that’s what it’s about—being of service, doing what I call my ‘HeartWork.’ My goal is be a spark of inspiration that awakens women to their own potential—to live life beyond the comfort zone, swimming in the waters of limitless possibilities and breaking free from the limiting beliefs about those quiet, unspoken dreams within that keep nudging them to explore the ‘out there’—a world they once believed wasn’t for them.
That’s my mission: To awaken women (and, truly, everyone) to the incredible beauty of living the life they dream of—not just envisioning it, but actually living it.
And I can’t do that if I stay nestled in my comfort zone, sticking to the old ways that, while comfortable, don’t emanate from that deep, urgent space within—where those quiet, unspoken dreams demand I break free. It’s time to soar above the waters, to fly without wings!
If you’re interested, I still have a couple of spots open in the upcoming The ReWrite Journey beginning this Monday, May 13. It would be wonderful to have you on the journey! (louise [at] louisegallagher [dot[ ca
“Joy transcends age; it’s not confined to youth. It’s a universal treasure that spans all ages, reminding us that to experience joy we must embrace the journey of life with love, laughter, gratitude and compassion every day.” Louise Gallagher
As I sit before my computer navigating various sites to launch thep of unveiling another chapter of the Radiant Bold Aging Masterclass, and transforming my two-month ReEnvision Your Journey program into a six-month quest to champion women in crafting the life of their dreams, age notwithstanding, my journal pages have blossomed with musings on JOY.
What essence it holds, whence it springs. What, if anything, fills its void when it gently slips away? In its absence, where do I seek refuge? And why, oh why, does joy hold such paramount importance?
These existential ponderings, to me, are not just intriguing—they are essential quests for understanding.
Today, merrily working in my studio, with the melody of birdsong heralding spring to the barren branches of the trees that line the riverbank, and sunlight dancing on the snow-blanketed earth of our backyard, I found myself cradled in the sheer joy of the present.
Joy—like an ocean wave—envelops me, washing away the remnants of turmoil. It saturates my being when I cease to engage with joy’s thieves: resentment, regret, anger, sorrow, and the mundane grievances against the world’s bad drivers and the monotony of customer service scripts. Ah, those familiar foes.
I’ve come to realize that irrespective of age, emotions crash upon the shores of my consciousness, uninvited. To truly know Joy, I must allow these feelings to be swallowed by the temporal tides, and in their stead, embrace love, self-compassion, mindfulness, and the endless possibilities each moment holds.
In such moments, my heart feels lighter, my thoughts as clear as the rainbow stretching across the sky after a storm, and I am embraced once more with Joy.
One day, when you least expect it you will stand at the threshold of your heart and hear its pounding insistence you step across the liminal space between not loving yourself and loving yourself with all your being awakened to every beat of your heart.
In that moment, you must choose between staying locked in the darkness of believing your flaws and many imperfections are too wide and bulky to fit through the doorway to your heart or stripping away the heaviness of your belief you do not deserve your love because you are so imperfect and scarred and scared of loving yourself you will never be free of the fear of loving yourself.
To choose to stay locked in darkness is easy. It’s the comfortable shirt you’ve worn forever. The one you thoughtlessly put through the washing cycle so often you no longer worry about putting the machine on delicate. You know this shirt is tough enough to take your abuse.
But, to risk stripping away the shirt and tearing it to shreds. To risk standing exposed with all your scars and scared self naked to the prying eyes of imperfection. Ah, well that is the penultimate act of courage you will ever commit.
One day, you will stand at the threshold of your heart and be asked to commit to loving yourself in all your wounded, flawed beauty.
On that day you will know the sound of freedom is not a song sung by those with the courage to climb every mountain and ford every sea. It is the sound of your heart falling deeply in love with the perfection of the beautiful tender mercy of being held in the loving embrace of your arms wrapping themselves around your heart as you whisper joyfully, I Love You.
I created the image a year ago for the 2023 She Dares Boldly Calendar – she continues to stir my imagination and fits well with today’s post.
The calendar page turns, November makes its entrance, embodying the silent prowess of a leopard stalking its prey, rich with anticipation and a deep, intrinsic knowledge. The Arctic winds, far from being mere specters on the horizon, now gently lap at the remnants of these gilded autumn days, whispering subtle reminders of an October snowfall that is gracefully receding into the embrace of memory.
Seated at my desk on this first day of November, I gaze upon an open calendar, its pages no longer saturated with the relentless demands of meetings, deadlines, and the constant pressures of projects to complete and new ones to conceive. This chapter of my working career within the not-for-profit sector, which began as a six-month contract with an employment services agency two years ago, has come to a close. The final email has been sent, the last phone call concluded, and the proverbial ‘i’s dotted and ‘t’s crossed.
My gaze shifts to the traffic, steadily flowing across the bridge towards the city center, mirroring the river that glides silently by, steadfast between its banks.
Memories surface of a time four years prior when I last stepped away from the formal workplace, worn and burdened, feeling empty, like a broken vessel filled to the brim with exhaustion and heartache. The tumultuous final months in that workplace necessitated a retreat, a six-month respite devoted solely to healing, rejuvenation, and reigniting my imagination and sene of being present, free from life’s encumbrances.
Today, however, I step away with a heart buoyant with achievement and energy, poised to embrace the opportunities I am creating to ‘live large’ and ensure my most meaningful contributions to the world reflect the change I aspire to both create and embody.
I am enveloped in gratitude. Gratitude for the prologue to my formal working career, a narrative that truly resonates with my passions, abilities, and creativity. Gratitude for the privilege of collaborating with a team of unparalleled dedication and accomplishment, committed to both the clients we served and the agency’s mission. Gratitude for the lasting friendships forged, with individuals who have indelibly impacted my life and the world. Gratitude for every moment, every lesson, every connection.
As I stand on the threshold of the days, weeks, and months to come, excitement courses through me. Excitement for the potential to create, build, and achieve; for the dreams I have tenderly nurtured; for the seeds I have sown in the fertile grounds of autumn’s repose; and for the promise of a new day that awaits me with each sunrise.
In this moment of reflection and anticipation, I am anchored by a profound sense of gratitude. I carry with me the lessons and memories of the past, and step across the liminal space of the past fading away and the future unfolding with an open heart, ready to weave a tapestry of dreams and actions in the rich soil of possibility. Here’s to the journey ahead, filled with boundless potential and the promise of newfound adventures and fulfillment.
I was gifted the opportunity to work with the amazing Ewan Nicholson and the team at Inter Pipeline to create a video of Andrew — a Prospect client who has been part of the Inter team for the past four years. What a wonderful final project to leave on!
She dares to live as if age is not a limitation, but an invitation to live it up with passion, purpose and profound significance.
I never thought I’d be charting a course for my next decade while stranded on the narrow roads of Ireland with a flat tire, but sometimes life’s unexpected twists force us to pause, reflect, and reevaluate our journey. It was in that moment of inconvenience, standing at the edge of a lake shimmering in the breathtaking beauty of the Irish landscape, that I realized the need to drive less, rest more, and dive deep into the boundless possibilities of my future.
As I approach my 70s, I’ve been pondering how to live life to the fullest. How can I unleash the creativity that simmers within me, yearning to break free? How do I wake up every morning with unwavering belief in the promise of a better tomorrow, immersing myself in passion and purpose, prose and artisitic expression?
The question that echoes in my heart is this: How do I craft the best chapter of my life yet?
Come December 9, the turning of the calendar will usher in a new decade, laden with the wisdom of years gone by and the thrilling anticipation of what lies ahead. The choice to seize this opportunity, to truly live it up, is solely mine to make—or to disregard.
I stand at a crossroads where I can defy societal expectations that often suggest older adults are merely biding their time. The world seems to imply that whatever we’re doing at ‘this age’ is mere inconsequential chatter, like flotsam on the surface of life. I wholeheartedly reject that notion. I choose to be noisy, to be loud, and dare I say it, to be obnoxious in my determination to declare: “It’s not over yet, baby! I’m ready to set the world on fire!”
This is my time, my moment, to embrace life with open arms and an open heart. It’s a time to cherish the unique perspective that comes with age, a perspective that is enriched by decades of experiences and lessons learned. My journey ahead is not a passive drift towards the sunset; it’s a blazing trail, illuminating the path for others to follow.
In this next chapter of my life, I am committed to leaving an indelible mark. I will pour my heart and soul into every endeavor, chase my dreams with fervour, and nurture my creativity like a precious flame. I won’t just exist; I will thrive. I will embody the belief that there’s still so much to contribute, create, and achieve, because age is not a limitation—it’s an opportunity.
So, here’s to the future, to embracing the uncharted territory that lies ahead with a fierce determination to make every day count. It’s a future filled with possibilities, and I intend to explore them all. Armed with a deeply seated love of self and humanity, a spirit embued with compassion, and a belief in the possibility of better, I declare that my 70s will be a decade of purpose, passion, and profound significance.
Watch out world! The 70s are calling and there’s no stopping me now!
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!
In her view, I was always criticising her for not being the mother I wanted/needed her to be. In mine, I felt like I was never the daughter she wanted/needed me to be.
As we both grew older, the tensions between us eased, but finding harmony in a relationship where we felt comfortable and free to be ourselves was a constant journey into acceptance.
When she died at 97 years of age a couple of weeks before COVID lockdowns began, we’d reached a truce. As long as I didn’t try to get her to talk about the past, which in her mind was me just trying to make trouble as I always did, we had a modicum of peace between us. It was a tentative peace, one she was not willing to put to the test, Which meant, we never spent time together alone. Which, for me meant, we never talked about the things that mattered most.
At the time, wished it could have been otherwise, but my desire to ‘clean up the past’ was to her, a recipe for pain and more hurt. Silence was our companion, the boundaries of which were not safe to cross.
After her death, she began to ‘visit’ me whenever I was in the bath. I was a tad confused and consternated by her choice of venue. She’d arrive, dressed up á la Holly Golightly from Breakfast at Tiffany fame, long ebony cigarette holder in one hand, a martini glass in the other.
You are not my mother, I told her. My mother would never be so daring.
She laughed (something I did not recall my mother doing very often in life) and replied that on this earthly plain, the burdens she carried weighed her down so much she could never be find her lightness of being.Just as she could never be the mother I wanted (needed) her to be.
That shut me up.
My mother admitting she might have failed me?
I didn’t dare say it out loud.
It didn’t matter. She laughed at my thinking.
I’m spirit, she said. I can see through all those bubbles you pile on top of you in the bath to hide your naked body and, I can read your mind. Don’t worry. On this side of life, there is no judgement, only Love.
I wrote a lot about my mother’s after-life visits. They were healing, comforting and above all, loving. They filled in the missing pieces, smoothed out the rough edges and built a pathway to understanding, forgiveness and acceptance.
My mother’s and my relationship was exactly as it was meant to be. It was the starting point of the journey that brought me here, to where I am today, grateful, accepting and loving of the path I took to get me here, to this place where I am today.
No matter its hardships, no matter my falls, my tumbles, my getting lost and losing my way, it was the path I took. I cannot change the path behind me, just as I could never change my mother.
There were a thousand paths I could have taken, a thousand things my mother and I could ahve done differently. It doesn’t matter.
It is not the path I took nor how angry or resentful of my mother i was, or how I much I judged her lacking (and wished I hadn’t) that counts today, It is how bright the light I shine on my path, how much joy and love I dance with on my journey from here that makes a difference.
My mother taught me that. After she was gone.
My mother gave me life.
For nine months she carried me in her womb, praying for my safe arrival.
She did not intend to make my journey hard or difficult. She did not intend to hurt me or cause me to doubt who I am or my worth. And she did not purposefully or knowingly do the things she did that caused me pain.
Like me, she did the best she could with the tools and resources she had. She struggled. She fell. She got back up and tried again.
She hurt. She bled. She cried. She despaired.
Yet, through it all, no matter how difficult the road she traveled, no matter how dark the night or bleak the weather ahead, she never quit doing the one thing her mother’s heart told her she must do – love the child that was me, no matter how much she did not understand, agree nor approve of the road I was on. No matter how hard I fought against her. All she could do was love the only way she could. Her way.
My mother wasn’t perfect.
But then, neither am I.
What my mother was is the one thing I can never deny, she was the woman who gave me life. She loved me as best she could no matter how difficult I sometimes made her journey.
I am grateful.
I am blessed.
And,above all, I accept, she did the best she could in the life she gave me.
And in that life she gave me, I have come to know the truth about who I am. I am not the stories I’ve told that kept me walking in the pain of believing I was never enough for my mother, the world, or myself.
I am not the things I’ve done to prove my biggest fears about how undeserving and unworthy I am are true.
I am me, because of my journey and the way my mother loved me. I am awakened to my birthright of worthiness. I am awakened to knowing, without a doubt, I am a miraculous expression of divine love and amazing grace.
My mother taught me that.
A mother is not born in giving birth. She is forged in the crucible of life’s trials and tribulationsteaching her with each painful and uncertain step, to become a vessel of love that can never be broken.
It is my mother’s womb that carried me into life. It is her love that could never be broken, no matter how much I found it lacking, wanting or deficient, overwhelming or too needy, it is her love that continues to shine on the path of my life today.
For, though it is her womb that nurtured me into being, it is not the womb that connects and binds us. It is Love.
To all the mothers, however you arrived at the threshold of motherhood, no matter how far the distance between your heart and the ones you love, may you always know how beautiful, special and divinely graced the world is by your presence.
May you know how miraculous you are, in all the radiant beauty of your unique expression of your love. And may you know, deep within you, that the Love you share so selflessly and with such devotion, no matter how it is received or felt or rejected, is exactly the Love the world needs now.
We humans have an inate desire to know love. To feel it and be loved and loving.
Love carries with effortless ease our desires for belonging. Our need to feel like we fit in, like we have a place and purpose in this world. And despite our insistence ‘Love doesn’t come cheap, or isn’t free’, Love and asks nothing of us in return.
And still, too often, we fight its ways. We resist its presence and defend our hearts against our fears of being hurt by someone else’s love, reminding ourselves of all the ways others have hurt us in the past, as if memory can defend us against Love..
None of us love perfectly. We have that oh so human tendency to judge, criticise and blame. We tell stories on another’s imperfect love and how they hurt us without seeing that in our own beautiful imperfectly loving ways, we too have hurt others, and ourselves.
To know Love, to feel it, to be in its soul-filling flow, we must stop defending our hearts against our fear of what might happen, or could happen, or our self-assured belief WILL happen, if we let love in.
To know LOVE we must allow ourselbves to pull down the walls around our hearts and dance with joyful abandon in the freedom to see ourselves through Love’s eyes. In Love’s eyes, it is not our imperfections that count. It is our willingness to stand naked in Love’s light and let our beautiful imperfect human being shine bright for all the world to see, we are a reflection of Love’s beauty.
I have tolerated a lot of bad behaviour in my life.
I have had men hit on me with the promise to support my career if I slept with them.
I have had men offer money for sex, because I was standing in a hotel lobby by myself or walking down the street at night.
I have had men ask me to take notes at a meeting, not because that was my role, but because I was a woman.
I have had men ask me to grab them a coffee, again, not because that was my job, but because I was a woman.
And, I have had men tell me crude jokes, or make suggestive comments on the phone, confident they will not be corrected, abraded, or called out.
Sure, it may seem small potatoes in the big picture of the pressing dangers women face all over the world, everyday — Rape, war, violence against women, female genitalia disfiguration and so many other inhumane practices that do not serve our humanity well.
But, gender-based biases, where I allow bad behaviour to be the norm, or laugh them off with a wave of my prettily manicured hand and shrug as if to say, “Oh well. Boys will be boys,” does not change anything.
Boys will be boys and they deserve so much more than being the target of women’s ire and disdain. Or being boys who hurt women.
It was Gandhi who said, “Be the change you want to see in the world,” Yet, even he could not escape the more carnal elements of his human nature. In his own letters, he wrote of his ‘experiments’ of sleeping naked with young women in his bed to test his resolve of chastity and promote the celibate life as the path to peace. (Source) He gave little thought to the impact of his actions on the mental health of his young female companions.
We can’t just BE the change we want to see in the world. We must ensure the changes we make change us for the better. And, that they are good for everyone. Not just the one.
Change doesn’t just depend on our doing the small things and the big things to create better, it means being ‘the better’ we want to see in the world.
Let’s begin changing ourselves so that in those changes, we change our world. Because when I change, my whole world changes around me — let my changes create better for everyone.
INTERNATIONAL WOMEN’S DAY (IWD) (March 8) is an important day to celebrate women’s social, economic, cultural & political achievements + call for gender equality
This year’s IWD theme is – “DigitALL: Innovation and technology for gender equality,” highlighting gender gaps in STEM education and careers — and calling attention to the online harassment many women face.
International Women’s Day is also a reminder of the long road ahead. U.N. Secretary-General António Guterres warned Monday that women’s rights are being “abused, threatened and violated” around the world and gender equality won’t be achieved for 300 years without urgent action.
Wrapped in the soft glow of candlelight illuminating the dark, I sit in the quiet of night’s velvety embrace.
It’s early. Dawn sleeps deep, bedded down in night’s arms. The dark envelopes the sky.
I sit at my desk, breathing in the silence and watch the lights from the pedestrian bridge that crosses the river outside my window shimmer on the water’s inky black surface.
I am awake. I don’t want to be. But a dream I cannot remember awoke me. Unable to find sleep again, I do the thing I always do when sleep evades me. I get up, light a candle on my desk. It sits in front of the large picture window in our living room, looking west. Looking out into the darkness, to the river, the dark silhouettes of the trees that line its banks, nature’s painting of black on light shadow, waiting, like portals into some magical, far away land calling me to let go of what I know to enter the realm of all there is yet to discover.
My fingertips skim the keyboard on my laptop. The river flows. Olafur Arnald’s piano quietly plays in the background. The fridge hums. Beaumont the Sheepadoodle, lies at my feet, sleeping.
A light moves along the bridge. Someone on a bicycle is crossing. East to west. For a moment I am distracted. Where is he going? What is he doing riding a bike across the bridge at 4am?
His light disappears. I return to this moment.
The river flows. No wind stirs the naked branches of the trees that fill the gaps between tree trunks like cracks in ice spidering out.
Morning has yet to beckon.
Day has yet awaken.
I breathe in the quiet of the moment and feel my body easing into the darkness.
There is nowhere to be in the dark of night. No one thing I have to do. There is only this. This moment where I sit typing, breathing, and watching the river flow and the lights dance on its surface.
Day will come. Light will return to the sky. For now, I sit in the dark belly of night and let my mind flow like the river and dream of dancing with wild, fierce abandon into the unknown adventures of the day yet to rise.
Dare Boldly 