Years ago, I worked in an adult homeless shelter and used these exercises to assist clients to identify roadblocks to their exiting homelessness.

One student, when asked to do the first exercise said, “I have trained myself not to do that — at least not with the negative. I don’t like beating myself up with my negative traits.”

“That’s a great habit,” I replied. “What if, you look at the exercise with eyes of wonder rather than through eyes of blame? What if, you chose to put the emphasis on, what can I learn about myself in embracing the negative?”

“But, if I’m feeling depressed today and project that forward for five years, I’ll really be depressed.”

“If you’re feeling depressed today, how would you rather feel?”

He shrugged his shoulders as if to say, ‘that’s pretty simple’, “Happy.”

“Which feeling is real for you today?”

“Depressed.”

“On the page, which is real next year, happy or sad?”

He looked at me. Down at the page. “Well, neither. I’m here today, not in next year.”

“Right. So on the paper, neither side of the column is ‘real’. Both sides of the page exist because your mind created the words and you wrote them on the page. Neither is real until you make them real. Which do you choose?”

It is all in our choices. If I am unhappy today and don’t want to carry it into tomorrow, what do I choose to do today to create the opportunity for me to change how I feel about what I’m carrying?

I am 100% accountable for my life. I am 100% responsible for my actions, my words, my thoughts, my deeds.

What do I choose? To do. To say. To think. To create.

It is all in my choices.

Today’s exercise focuses on accountability.

Pull out your list from yesterday.

Look down the left side of the page and pick one emotion that you really don’t like. Maybe it’s anger. Or, disappointment. Or, bitterness.

Now, close your eyes, take a couple of deep, deep breaths. Let your mind settle. Let the tension ease away from your body. Imagine a leaf falling gently to the ground. Softly. Gently it falls. Slipping side to side. Side to side. Gently. Softly. Lower and lower. Sinking. Softly.

Think about the word you chose. Open your mind to wonder. Ask yourself, “I wonder what this word wants to teach me? I wonder where the power is for me in this word.”

Sit quietly for a few moments and let your wonder of the word open you up to embracing all it has to tell you.

After a few moments of wonder, open your eyes slowly, take a deep breath, shake your shoulders, pick up your pen and start writing (without censoring) the learning that came into your mind. Let yourself be free of judgement. Let the wonder become visible on the page.

For me, the word I chose was: Bitterness.

As I settled into wonderment, I asked myself, What is it about the word bitterness that does not sit well with me?

I wrote it out and here’s the wonder that appeared on the page:

Bitterness makes me think of rancid food. It smells. It dries up. It cracks. I don’t want to be dried up and bitter. I don’t want to become all used up like some old people.

So, this has to do with getting old? Yeah, well, remember dad. He became so set in his ways. So opinionated. I don’t want to close off to learning, to growing, to being open to new ideas, new thoughts. I want life to be a constant journey — of wonder. I want to be filled with wonder at how amazing life is.

Are you?

Filled with wonder?

Yeah, filled with wonder.

I try to be.

Trying is lying.

Oh, right. Well, I’m working on it.

That’s skating around the issue.

I’m scared I will lose my wonder.

What will make you lose your wonder?

My choices.

Right — you are accountable for you. What are you going to do to embrace wonder and let go of judgement, criticism, complaining…

I am going to focus on what I want more of in my life and keep myself free of complaining. I am going to get conscious of where I complain, what I complain about — I am going to be scrupulous with my language. I am going to be filled with integrity.

Great! Now change the language to active, present tense, not passive.

Right! Cool idea.

I choose to focus on what I want more of in my life. I choose to not complain, criticize and condemn. I choose to get conscious of where I complain, what I complain about — I choose to be scrupulous with my language. I choose to act with integrity in everything I do and say and think.

We are all born magnificent, Divine grace in action.

And we all have a choice. No matter our beginnings. No matter the happenings that have drawn us into darkness and driven us away from the divine essence of our magnificence, we always have a choice. To act with grace. Or not.

In, The Sacred Art of Lovingkindness: Preparing to Practice, Rabbi Shapiro writes, “I made the choice for heaven and, having done so, I went in search of tools for living it.”

Years ago, a family argument drove me into exploration of who I am, why I am, how I am the way I am. At the time, I wasn’t too happy about it. Angry recriminations and questions of How dare they? Why me? peppered my thoughts as I fought the gift of awakening that opened up before me.

I had a choice. To run and hide or face my demons and blame ‘them’ for my confusion and unhappiness, or to choose the gift of awakening. I chose to take the hero’s journey.

I am grateful.

Awakening has become a lifelong journey. It began with a deep dive into my psyche, ferreting out mountains of hidden hurts and pains, and frozen lakes of discord that were keeping me spinning out of control, continuously re-enacting limiting beliefs that did not serve me well on my journey but instead, drove me into the darkness of believing, I was not worthy.

In discovering lies I thought were truths, pains I thought were mine forever, I discovered Damocles’ proverbial sword was not hanging above me by a thread of someone else’s making. I was the one holding sword and thread above me. I was the one holding onto the past and in the process, killing my own joy. My own freedom. My own magnificence.

I had to make a choice. I could no longer live beneath the imminent danger of believing the sword was poised to fall upon me. I had to either decide to cut and run and hope the sword missed my head. Or, acknowledge the thread and sword were not real. They only existed within my mind.

To choose the first kept the past alive through the lie that I deserved to live a life of fear, of always believing something or someone was out to get me.

To choose the latter, to choose to face the lie of the thread and sword and imminent danger always waiting to cut me off, I could be free.

I chose freedom.

Every morning when I awaken, I choose freedom.

I choose kindness, not cruelty. To believe in abundance not scarcity. To trust in the universe and not give into distrust, resentment and self-fulfilling prophecies of doom parading as truth.

I choose grace over anger. Love over fear.

This morning, that choice lead me to these words by Franciscan sister and scientist, Ilia Delio:

“Heaven is earth transformed by love when earthly life is lived in love; the suffering of earth is transformed into a foretaste of heaven when one sees and hears from the inner center of love.”

And my heart beat wildly in recognition of truth shimmering in the quiet of this morning where darkness begins to retreat into the night and the days grow longer as light returns to the world. I breathe deeply into the truth.

Love is always the answer.

For today and everyday, may we all choose Love. May we all choose to let grace be the path we walk in peace. And on our path from one moment to the next, may our thoughts, words and actions transform the suffering of the world around us so that together, we use our power to choose peace, not war; joy, not bitterness; grace, not anger; Love, not fear.

Namaste.

__________________

This post is inspired by Richard Rohr’s morning meditation: Choosing Heaven

Years ago, my youngest daughter and I volunteered for one of the ‘Community Inns’ operated by Inn from the Cold.  The Community Inns were a network of faith and community based locations that every night housed homeless individuals and families. Children and their parents rotated from one church basement to the next, never staying in the same place more than one night.

It was a gift and a measure of community’s compassion to ensure everyone had a safe place to stay at night. But it was still a challenge for the families who had no stability, no capacity to provide their children a sense of security and home.

One year, our regular volunteering date happened on Christmas Eve morning. Along with a bevy of volunteers, our job was to wake the families up, help them pack up their things, serve breakfast and then clean up after the families left to get on the bus back to the main pick-up location.

On this morning, my daughter came over to me with tears streaming down her face. A little boy had asked her, ‘how will Santa find me if we don’t have a home?’

We stopped volunteering shortly thereafter. For me, the realization that our ‘charity’ was contributing to a painful reality for children was more than I could handle. I believed we could do better. And as a community we have.

Inn from the Cold no longer uses the Community Inn network for overnight shelter. All families experiencing housing crisis are housed in the main emergency shelter until appropriate, supportive housing is found. Emergency shelter is not ideal, but it is an integral part to helping families weather housing crisis and to fulfilling on our vision of ending child and family homelessness.

Yesterday, we held the opening event for Journey House 2, a newly renovated apartment building that the Inn bought earlier this year to provide a place to call home for 10 vulnerable families. It will also be a community hub with a resource centre for community engagement, courses and activities.

The day was amazing.

Donors, stakeholders, staff, government officials, and a woman who will soon be a resident of the building gathered together to celebrate what can happen when community joins together to take action. Journey House 2 was funded through a mortgage from the Calgary Foundation and Claire’s Campaign, an annual fund-raising initiative spearheaded by the amazingly philanthropic Gary Nissen. The renovations, overseen by Centron, were entirely funded by donors. All $700K.

The building is beautiful. The suites have been completely outfitted by Centron Cares and other caring Calgarians. They are spacious, light-filled and welcoming.

As Adriana, a mother of three boys who will be moving into Journey House 2 so poignantly described it, without Journey House, she and her boys would still be like all the other families at The Inn, waiting.

And now, they are home.

This Christmas, as my beloved and I juggle renovations on our new home and living in temporary accommodation as we wait to complete the final step of our move, I am reminded of all the families who are still ‘waiting’ at the Inn.

There is hope. Journey House 2 represents an opportunity for 10 families to stop ‘waiting’ as they move home.

Yet, there are still more families waiting.

Which is why we must never stop dreaming and building and creating opportunities for families to find their way home so that one day, no child will ask, “how will Santa find me if we don’t have a home?”

It is the second week of advent. As we wait for the sun’s return, as we listen for our deepest
knowing to awaken from these long dark nights of winter, listen to your heart. Listen to the
silence and winter calling you to know the otherness.

This is the time of endless nights growing darker. Of day’s light growing weaker in the soft
approach of winter solstice, in the coming light of the child’s birth drawing near.

This is a time when our patience grows thin as we rush about, fighting crowds and traffic,
endlessly hurrying towards one more checkmark on the list, one more item scratched off on the
gifts we must buy.

Patience is a virtue and at this time of year, a necessity. Yet, we struggle against giving it time to
grow, to take form, to inhabit our being present in the darkness of these wintery days so that we
can lean into the silence to hear the song of joy being born within our hearts.

We cannot change the course of night, just as we cannot change the path of the earth moving
around the sun. Winter will pass in its time, and whether we wait with calm heart, or battle
against time’s slow passing, the sun will appear upon the horizon, raising itself up into the sky,
with or without our permission. No matter how many items are checked off on our list, the sun
will return, days will lengthen and nights will grow shorter. The cycle of time passing will continue,
again and again, in its ever ending circle of life.

This is a time when I seek that place of quiet within where I can hear my heart giving birth to the
new life I must call my own. This is a time when I yearn to fall into place with the world around
me and the world within me. A place where the hustle and bustle of the season wanes as I find
that place within where I know communion with the world, within and outside of me.

This is the place where I let go of that which I ‘hate’ about me and find the courage to live from my poet’s
heart rising up within me. It is in this place I sense the world through the beauty expressing
itself through my soul’s desire to give birth to the one I have been waiting for, just as over 2,000
years ago, Mary gave birth to the one she waited for, the One the world awaited.

And in this moment of quiet, as I sit in the stillness of the night, a song arises within me, and I find
myself settling into my heart. In silence I wait patiently for the sun to return, for a child to be
born, for peace, hope, love and joy to become the essence of my world.

In my waiting, I grow still. In my stillness, I hear the whisper of hope singing in dawn’s caress waiting at the edge of the horizon to push the darkness back into the night. With hope awakening, I know, anything is possible including peace, hope, love and joy for all the world.

Namaste.

____________________________________________

Thank you Liz at Be. Love. Live for introducing me to Future of Forestry and this beautiful Christmas song.

December 1.

As the earth circles the sun and the tides flow in and out, the holiest time of the year is once again here. The time of waiting, of anticipation, of night stretching its velvet blanket across the sky, holding light at bay, as we dream of new birth waiting to awaken and become present.

Into the quiet expectation of this month of waiting and preparation, I breathe deeply into the lengthening night, letting peace of heart take root, its healing presence shimmering in the depth of my gratitude for this beautiful, precious gift of life.

It is time to quit worrying about what am I going to ‘get’ the one’s I love and put my focus on what I have to give.

To know on a deep abiding level that this is not the season of buying. It is the season of gracious giving, from the abundance of my heart.

And with dawn’s early light breaking upon the horizon, I breathe into all the Love I have to give, grounded in the heart of all I wish to receive. Peace. Hope. Love and Joy.

Nov 25 – Dec 10 #MyActionsMatter

For four years nine months I endured a relationship of escalating terror. Looking back, I can’t remember what it is that kept me so stuck in his abuse. Looking back I wonder sometimes, what was I smoking? It must have been powerful stuff. And then, I remember the fear. Fear soaked into my pores. It damned the blood pounding into my heart. It permeated every crevice of my mind, consuming my thinking with terrifying reminders of why I could not leave him.

When it was really bad, and the abuser raged or sat in silent condemnation of yet another of my transgressions, I would slink into a closet, close the door and sit in the dark, my eyes shut to any crack of light trying to enter the dismal confines of my mind. Repetitively I would pet my Golden Retriever’s silky fur, clinging for dear life to this one being who laid her head upon my scrunched up knees and loved me unconditionally. Sometimes, when he held onto the pooch and would not let her come to me, I would crawl into the closet and dig my nails into my wrists, scraping the skin back, trying desperately to feel something, anything, other than the pain of being me. I wanted so desperately to peel my skin away, layer by layer to reveal the veins and vessels that carried the blood of life within this person who felt so dead to me. I wanted to see who lived within me. I wanted to expose the bones that were supposed to hold me up yet seemed to be crashing down from within me. I wanted to die.

It is hard to describe how he implanted such terror into my life. It was a moment by moment seeping away of my essence. When I met him, I was a partner in a communications firm. I had my home, my daughters, my life. He kept telling me that everything I had was nothing compared to what he would give me. I would say, “But I’m happy with my life today.” And he would laugh and ask me how could that be and he would remind me of what a mess my life was. I couldn’t figure that one out. My life wasn’t perfect. But it wasn’t a mess either. Yet, he persisted and rather than laugh back at him, I retreated into silence. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps all that I had accomplished meant nothing compared to all that he had done and wanted to give me.

And then the stalking and the phone taps and the threats of bomb’s under my car and the stories of evil men threatening to kidnap my daughters and drug them and put them into the sex trade began. And I fell into despair. The unreal began to feel too real and I could not risk challenging the truth.

By the end of that ride, I did not exist. I had completely submerged my identity and scrunched it up into a tiny pocket tucked high up into the corner of my mind as I became the vessel of his deceit. We were in hiding as he tried to evade the police. He was searching for a way out of the country. I was searching for a way out. Of life. Of being there with him, And so I existed, telling myself that at least I had gotten him away from the one’s I love. They didn’t deserve him and his abuse. But I did.

For four months my daughters, family and friends didn’t  know where I was. And I was too afraid to call and tell them I was okay. He told me I couldn’t, so I didn’t. It would have been a lie anyway.

I was not okay. I wanted to die. Every moment of every day. Waking or sleeping. I wanted to die. I watched buses and semi-trailers looking for an opportunity to fall into their path or crash into the solid substance of their massive sides as they sped through my life. I counted pills. I fondled razor blades. I imagined death in every form and prayed for it to come and end the darkness that was my world.

And through it all, I stayed silent. I acted the role he needed me to play to convince those who needed convincing that we were who he said we were. Even though I knew it was all a lie. I had become his lie. I was his shill. His creation. The only truth I held onto was my love for my daughters. To take my own life would be to make a lie of my love for them. And I couldn’t do it.

And then, at 9:14 am, May 21, 2003, the police walked in and arrested him and I received the miracle of my life and thus began my journey back.

It has been an amazing journey since that beautiful day in May. A journey filled with sorrow, tears, laughter, joy. A journey like no other. A journey of Love.

I am blessed. Once upon a time I was an abused woman. Today, I am a victor. My daughters and I have reconnected. We are free.

I cannot stop an abuser being who they are, but I can stop abuse in my life. I can make a difference in the world around me by standing against, speaking up and calling out abuse because, #MyActionsMatter.

_______________________

This is a repost from Nov 2, 2012.