Category Archives: Uncategorized

Mother-in-law

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On the ferry to Galiano Island

On the ferry to Galiano Island Alexis, Lele, Me, CJ

Mother-in-law.

C.C. calls me this as we drive back from the coast.

Mother-in-law. That’s who you are now, he says as we follow the ribbon of highway leading us back towards home on the other side of the Rockies.

We have just spent two weeks away. Wedding prep. Alexis and Jame’s wedding and then a week of relaxation at Tofino with Beaumont, The Wave Hound.

I hadn’t thought about the fact I’d  be carrying a new label after the wedding.

I roll the word around on my tongue. Savour it. Taste it. It has the heady essence of a piece of St. Agur sliding across my tongue. Sharp. Tangy. Deliciously smooth. Earthy.  I like it. I like how it feels. How it sounds. How it rolls around in my mind stretching who I know myself to be to include a new way of being.

Rainbow in the evening; JOY is in the air!

Rainbow in the evening; JOY is in the air!

I have a son-in-law, or as I like to think of him, ‘son-in-love’.

He is the husband to my daughter. The man to whom,  at the edge of a cliff over-looking the ocean beyond and under a blue sky through which an eagle soared lazily in the late afternoon sun, she pledged unwavering love forever more.

I have a married daughter.

It is a new place; this mother of a married daughter. A new way of seeing my daughter and her world. And me.

I remember when she was growing up, how she loved to play ‘bride’ and organize make-believe weddings, and re-enactments of The Titanic. She created fabulous outfits, had favourite parts to play and favourite roles for those around her to fulfill.

There was never a role called ‘mother-in-law.’

I’ve had no practice and am surprised at how this role requires a mental shift, a lengthening out of my vision to include a larger perspective. It speaks to deepening of family. Of roots. Of possibilities and connections. Of sharing Christmases and special occasions. A deepening of love.

I have thought about what it means to know my daughter is married. To know she has someone to whom she will turn first and always. It has felt good to know she would have him by her side. Steadfast and true. He is kind. Generous. Quirkily funny and very very smart.

I like who he is but I hadn’t thought about what it means to be his mother-in-law. To have him as my ‘son-in-love’.

Somehow, I had thought nothing would change. That life would continue just as it was without any adjustments.

And it does. And it doesn’t. It is all as it is and as it is is wonderful and different and yet beautifully the same.

My eldest daughter got married on September 10th.

It was beautiful.

Magical.

Special.

She left nothing to chance. Thought of every little detail and was prepared for every eventuality. And in all her preparations, she managed to leave room for the whimsical, the mystical, the magic.

It was divine.  A day of love flowing freely on warm ocean breezes. Of family and friends laughing in the sunlight and dancing under the stars. It was a perfect beginning to their life lived as husband and wife.

(As I did not have my camera/iphone with me on the ‘big day’, these photos are all from friends — thank you CJ and Tamz and everyone else who shared them on FB. And if you’re ever looking for a magical island wedding resort – Bodega Ridge is stunning. The staff are incredible, the location amazing and the facilities and food divine)

A dinasoar village and other whimsy.

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KNock, Knock, it’s Dino

Alexis and I started the day with coffee and a walk to Stanley Park. The skies were molten grey and heavy with cloud but nothing could diminish the brightness of our smiles and the lightness of our hearts as we chatted and laughed and walked. At Second Beach, racers were just finishing off a Sprnt Triathalon. We sat on a log and watched the Lifeguards get ready for the second wave of racers, sipped our coffees and enjoyed the crisp fresh morning air.

At one point, we came upon someone’s lovely contribution of a dinosaur village in the trees. I love the careful placement of the leaves and rocks and creative and whimsical the little doors, cracked egg shells and dinosaurs are. A lovely start to Wedding Week.

Wedding Fever

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dare love copyIt was a perfect day for driving. Cloudy skies turned clear as we drove west, towards Vancouver, towards next Saturday when my eldest daughter will walk down the aisle to marry the man who holds her heart in loving hands and whose heart is hers.

I will be sporadic in my online presence over the next few days, allowing the pace and rhythm of my daughter’s days to become mine.

I wish for you all much love, joy and happiness.

In darkness there is light.

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The light shines brightest in the dark, yet often, we see the darkness and forget there is light.

Recently, as I spiralled into a dark funnel of believing there was no light, I came to a place where I believed only the dark and gloomy thoughts rattling around in my mind were the truth. I could not see the light above because I was so focused on where my thoughts were leading me, I forgot that I had control of where I was going. I had the power to stop my downward spiral into the dark.

And then, the thing that was causing me the most distress was lifted with the decision not to pursue a particular project at work. In that decision I felt heard, validated, appreciated.

And suddenly, my slide into darkness ended as I lifted my head and saw the light shining above.

“Where did the light come from?” I asked. And the inner voice of wisdom laughed and replied gently, “It was always there. You just got so lost in believing darkness was everywhere, you forgot to look up.”

In his book, The Road Less Travelled, Scott Peck, writes, “Life is difficult…  once we truly see this truth, we transcend it… Because once it is accepted, the fact that life is difficult no longer matters.”

There is darkness in this world. Once I accept there is darkness, the darkness does not matter as much as the light I choose to share with the world.

When I was sliding down into the darkness of my thinking life was difficult and that’s all there was, I was fighting against the truth that it is difficult, challenging and in the process forgot, it is also a beautiful, joyful experience when I stop resisting what is. In my unwillingness to keep my eyes and heart open, I was refusing to see that in this world there are people who behave badly. Even more importantly, I was pushing against the truth that I am not powerful enough to change their minds, to make them see the light, to make them change.

I am not that powerful.

And that is a powerful space to hold compassionately and lovingly in my heart.

I cannot change the darkness of others. I am powerful enough to create light in the darkness around me so that I can live with loving acceptance of all the world holds, dark and light, without fearing the darkness is all there is to behold.

In that acceptance, I am free to live fearlessly in the light knowing, the darkness is not my answer, unless I close my eyes to the light.

Namaste.

Thank you Mark and Val for illuminating the darkness in Love.

 

The Windstory Tree (a story)

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The windstory tree copy

There is a tree. A tall tree, a proud tree, a tree of many branches. Alone, it has stood the test of time, the felling of its neighbours, the culling of its kind. Alone, it has patiently waited throughout time for the wind to come and bring its stories.

And it always does. No matter the clouds above, or clear blue skies, the wind arrives on a breath of Arctic chill or upon the warmth of a Chinook swooping in from the west. And always, it carries with it the stories of its travels. Of places been, and faces met. Of joyous times and sad times. Of weddings and births and wars and deaths. The wind carries all its stories and whispers them to the tree before carrying on its way to distant lands and faroff places.

And the tree stands tall. Collecting stories. Gathering memories.

And people come and people go. Passing underneath the tree, never looking up, never hearing the voices of its stories.

Except for one small girl. She sees the tree. She hears its stories. She knows its voices. And every day, she climbs into its branches, bringing with her offerings of peanut butter and jam sandwhiches, her favourite devilled eggs, and sometimes, chocolate, though she doesn’t bring the chocolate very often. She has a little brother who likes to eat all the chocolate before the little girl can hide it.

One day, the little girl scurries up into the trees branches, higher and higher and higher. On this day she has not brought the tree any offerings. On this day, she is carrying only a story so sad she can barely get the words out to tell the tree.

Her heart is breaking. The thing she had never imagined would ever happen is about to take place.

Her father is moving away. Not because he got a new job in some exotic foreign land like the one she’d heard about last time in the whispering of the tree’s branches.

No. There is nothing exciting about this move. Only fear.

Her mother and father are getting a divorce. She weeps these words into the tree, throwing her arms around its sturdy trunk, asking it to please mend her breaking heart.

And the tree stands solid. The tree stands tall. Its leaves whisper into the little girl’s heart. “Fear not. Fear not.”

“How can I not fear when I don’t know what’s going to happen?” she asks the tree.

“Fear not. Fear not. Open your eyes and look around you. The world is still turning. The sun is still shining. Look around you.”

The little girl hears the trees voice and opens her eyes. She wipes the tears away with the back of her hand and looks around from the great height to which she has climbed. Just beyond where she is perched, she notices a piece of paper caught in a hole the woodpecker who likes to dig for food in the trees sturdy trunk has made. Carefully she pulls out the piece of paper, unfolds it and reads what’s written on it.

Hello, my name is Pen Pen. I am ten years old. I live in China. I am writing this note sitting in the giant tree that stands in the yard where my home used to be. An earthquake tore down my home. But the tree is still here. I am glad. It is all I have left of my home. My parents tell me not to be frightened. But I am scared. Everyone is crying. Houses are gone. So is our school. I like school. How will I become a doctor if I can’t go to school?. My mother tells me I will still get to go to the University when I grow up. She will make it happen. But I have to trust and believe that it will happen first. How can I do that when everything has changed? Except everything hasn’t changed. The tree is still here. It is my friend. It whispers stories to me. It tells me tales of far away places. Places I hope to visit one day when I’m a famous doctor. I have to go now. My mother is calling me. There are people here to help us clean up the mess of our house. I am leaving this letter in my tree. I hope if you are reading it that a beautiful white swam carried the note to you. My mother tells me anything is possible if I believe. So I do.”

The little girl reads the note and feels the first quiet whisper of hope in her heart. There is a girl, somewhere on the other side of the world who has a tree for a friend. She too hears its stories. she too knows its many voices.

She had never believed that was possible. That someone else could know the beauty of a tree is whispered in the stories it gathers from the wind.

I must believe, she whispered to herself as she carefully tucked Pen Pen’s story into the pocket of her pants. I must believe and not let fear make me forget that I am not alone.

And while it didn’t make the news of her parents divorce any better, it did help her feel less alone and less scared to know there was someone else in the world talking to a tree, sharing its stories and their own within its many branches.

The End which is The Beginning.

Yes! In My Backyard

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being present copy

Every morning when I awaken, the first thing I do is let Beaumont, our 1 year old Sheepadoodle, out into the backyard. For some reason, he will not go out unless I do. No matter the weather, he waits patiently until I step outside before venturing forth.

There have been moments when I have allowed impatience to govern my response. Times when I’ve sighed, heavily, stepping outside only to quickly retreat back into the house once he’s exited.

But I am learning.

Learning that the gift he awakens with the door’s opening is the offering of space to stand in reverence with morning’s presence on the deck. Learning that he’s not being resistant. He’s inviting me outside to savour the dew-kissed air with him.

What a lovely gift he’s opened up for me.

I step out into the cool, crisp morning air fresh with dew or last night’s rain. I smell the flowers, listen to the birdsong and the splash of the fountain, fill the feeder and sit quietly in the morning treasuring this moment of tranquility. In the distance, I can hear the faint hum of traffic heralding morning’s rush hour yet to come. The silver bullet of a jet flies overhead en route to some distant city. A squirrel chatters in the crab apple tree. A magpie caws from its perch on our roof.

In these moments, I am immersed in nature, in the awe of and reverence of life unfolding, of being at one with my world around me — even living here in the city, life is a wondrous and rich tapestry that supports me and gifts me with every breath I take.

This is morning. This is life. This is being. Present. Here. Now. Breathing. Savouring. Treasuring. Life.

In the light of awesome

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the light of awesome copy

In the light of awesome, we are all magnificent. Shining brightly. Shining. Lights. Of love. Of hope. Of joy. Of possibility.

In the light of awesome I find myself shining as bright as I can, as bright as I am in this moment right now.

No negative thoughts sneak their way into my mind.

No put downs find space to shadow my belief that just like you, I am a gift of humanity, doing my best to be my best so that all the world around me can experience my awesome, not my mediocrity.

In the light of awesome I feel my heart beat wild and free. Fierce and strong. Steady and wise.

I feel my body standing tall, not fearing I am too short, too old, too young, too thin, too wide, too worn out or too insignificant to make a difference.

In the light of awesome I know, I am the greatest gift I can be in this hurting, wounded world when I let go of feeling helpless. I am my best when I give into the urgings of my heart to shine bright, shine on, shine fully for all the world to see, there is a way out of the darkness and the way is found when each of us takes responsibility for shining our brightest so all the world can see the birthright we are born to be is AWESOME. MAGNIFICENT.

In the light of awesome I am, MAGNIFICENT!

In the light of awesome you are, MAGNIFICENT!

It is who we are. Who we are born to be. Born as. Born into. Born to remember. Our Being MAGNIFICENT.

Claim your magnificence today and let go of connecting through mediocrity. Let go of playing small. Playing anything other than, your MAGNIFICENCE.

 

Happy Canada Day!

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Happy Canada Day!

Woof! Beaumont is a Happy Canada Day pooch eh!

We Canadians live in a blind spot about our identity. We have very strong feelings about who we aren’t but only weak ones about who we are. We’re passionate about what we don’t want to become but oddly passive about what we should be.

John Cruickshank (in McLean’s Magazine)

I am Canadian.

 

 

Liberated. Free.

I have the right to vote and the freedom to express my opinion without fearing for my life.

I drive on the right side of the road. I have a car. I have a home. I have a job that I love. I have the right to oppose my government. I have the right to speak out.

I don’t carry a gun. I carry a passport that promises me safe passage anywhere in the world I choose to go.

Because, as a Canadian I have choice.

Being Canadian is not about not being American, our giant neighbour to the south against whom we are constantly comparing ourselves. Being Canadian is about claiming my right to live in a country where tolerance and justice share equal voice with compassion and the right to a fair defence.

We don’t have the death penalty in Canada. I’m proud of that.

And, as we seem to lose more and more of what makes us different than being American, I fear the loss of safety on our streets. I fear the loss of freedom in our schools.

As we become more ‘politically correct’, I fear the loss of Santa Claus and O Canada in our schools. I am Canadian and I am proud to celebrate Christmas and Easter. I am proud my neighbour is free to celebrate Hanukkah or Ramadan.

I am Canadian means I live in a land where the tapestry of nations woven together in our vast and varied lands creates a rich and vibrant world of colour and culture. Stitched together across a land where every voice is equal.

I am Canadian and I stand proud before the Maple Leaf, shoulder to shoulder with my brethren, no matter our skin colour, no matter our belief as we sing loud and clear, “O Canada, my home and native land.”

And then I realize in my oh so Canadian conscience that, we still didn’t get it right. We just changed the words of our national anthem to be inclusive of both male and females but the very words of our national anthem deny the truth of one-third of our population who do not claim Canada as their ‘native land’.

Oh dear. Best we change the words again so everyone feels they belong in this amazing land called Canada.

I am Canadian.

Always Give Way to Love.

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always give way to Love copy

I was leery when we met. Wary of falling into anything, especially Love.

And then he smiled. That soft, gentle, I see into you smile he has that makes my heart feel as if it has wings. As if it has nothing to fear but my fear of falling.

It was impossible to resist that smile, though I tried.

And over the years, I have continued to fall deeper into that smile. Those eyes. That way he has of kissing the back of my neck as if to say there is nowhere else I’d rather be in this moment right now than softly touching the back of your neck with my lips.

I knew him on the periphery of my life for years before we became ‘we’. We have a mutual friend. We went to the same parties. Knew many of the same people.

Years before we would become ‘us’ I tried to pitch him on hiring my firm to provide investor relations consulting. He never did hire us. Doesn’t even remember the encounter.

I do. He wore a black cashmere sweater. Black pants. And he had that smile.

I didn’t see him for years after that. The first time I met him again, it was in the offices he shared with a friend who’d hired me to write their business plan.

I remember him showing me photos of his son and daughter. Playing me music his son had written. He would come over to the desk where I was working, kneel down beside me, slip a CD into the disc-drive of my laptop, and say, “Listen to this.”

It was the position he took when he asked me to marry him.

“Here. Listen to this.” His eyes said as he knelt beside me and handed me his heart.

It has a beautiful song, this heart of my man.

Kind, caring, loving. It beats steady. Strong. Fierce.

It protects. Gives shade. Gives breath. Give wings. Gives strength and hope and flows effortlessly into the possibility of always being more. Free. Connected. Caring. Loving.

Sometimes, I have not treated this heart well. Sometimes, in my fierce resistance to falling, I have pushed back against flight, desperately seeking solid ground.

And always Love has found me. His heart has held me as I have learned to trust his smile, his gentle ways, his loving eyes that see into the heart of me.

I am learning, Resistance is futile in matters of the heart.

Always give way to Love.

Love will show the way.

Always.

I am grateful. I am blessed. I am free-falling. Every day. Falling and flying free into Love, to Love, with Love.

And in flight, I find myself lifted up by this one man’s heart. Beating steady. Beating strong. Beating fiercely beneath my wings.

So is the way of Love.

Namaste.

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This post was inspired by a memory post offered up by Facebook yesterday.

As I read Alexis’ memories of meeting her fiance, I was reminded once again of the power of Love’s ways.

Thank you to both my daughters and C.C. for being my guides and my teachers in the ways of Love.