In a land far away, in a time long ago, there lived a king with a heart of stone. It had not always been this way. Once upon a time, his heart had beat freely, flowing with love and kindness. But he had loved and felt the pain of loss. Fear of having his heart-broken all over again had taught him to harden his heart. And so, it had turned to stone.

To keep his heart from breaking apart, he had built a wall of gold around it, telling himself the more he had, the better he would feel.

The people of his kingdom bore the brunt of his desire to acquire wealth and riches. Whatever they produced, whatever they had, went to feed the king’s need for more and more gold, until worn out and tired, they quit caring for the land and taking care of their crops and animals and one another. Over time, the lands grew fallow and the crops failed. Cows quit giving milk and the hearts of everyone in the kingdom also turned to stone.

The king became angry. His people had nothing to give and his coffers grew bare.  His heart grew harder and harder as the fear that he would run out of gold and riches took hold of his mind.

He ordered his minions to scour the land for every drop of gold, every ounce of grain, and every piece of wealth they could find.

And his kingdom grew darker and darker.

One day, one of his knights came to him and told him the story he had heard of a young girl with a heart of gold who lived in a land far away.

“Find me this girl,” he ordered his knight. “Bring her to me and remove her heart and do not fail or I will take out your heart.” For the king believed that with a heart of gold, he would have all the riches in the world and would never know fear again.

The knight gathered up six men and rode for days to the town where he had heard of the girl with the heart of gold. Not knowing his intentions, when he asked the townsfolk about the girl, they happily told him how to find her home.

He hadn’t needed to ask. It was easy to tell which house was hers. All around it flowers bloomed in a riot of colour and pattern. Birds sang in the trees and a brook burbled as it merrily flowed along at the edge of her property.

In the garden, a young woman sang and worked. She had long blond hair and her skin was smooth and white. Her hands were buried deep into the rich soil of her garden and when she turned to greet the knight and his men, her blue eyes sparkled and danced and her smile warmed their hearts.

Blinded for a moment by the beauty of her smile, the knight forgot why he had come. “What is your name?” he asked her hesitantly.

“Carrena,” she replied, standing up and brushing the dirt from her hands. She walk towards him and held out her hands to take his in both of hers. She was so nature al and kind the knight could not refuse. Shlooked deeply into his dark eyes and asked, “And what is your name?”

Surprised at her question, commoners never asked knights their name in the land where he came from, and they definitely didn’t hold their hands, the knight abruptly removed his hands from hers and scolded her loudly. “Do not be impertinent. My name is not of your concern. My king has ordered me to find you and bring you to him. You will come with me now.”

Carrena smiled at the knight gently. “You must love your king greatly to do his bidding with such fierceness.”

“Love my king?” the knight said. “I do not love my king. I fear him and I do his bidding. It is what I must do.”

“I do not know your king,” Carrena said. “It is sad that you fear him and that he has ordered you to take me to him because I cannot go. My home is here and I do not want to leave it.”

“You have no choice,” said the knight. “It is my king’s wish.”

Carrena smiled at the knight, and took his hands again in hers and looked deeply into his eyes. “Please thank your king for the invitation and give him my best wishes. I will not go with you.”

Angered by her refusal, and confused by the sudden warm beating of his heart from the touch of her hands, the knight pulled his hands away and ordered his men to grab the girl.

They were too fast for her and suddenly, she found herself wrapped inside a blanket and tied to the back of the knight’s horse.

They rode fast and furious and as they rode back towards the king’s castle, the lands around them grew darker and darker. They barely stopped to eat and drink yet no matter how tired she became, the young woman sang softly to herself.

Her song frightened the knight even more than the king’s demands. “Stop singing,” he ordered her.

“I will not,” Carrena told him. “Singing calms my fears and reminds me that love is always greater than fear.”

And so she sang and as she sang, the knight felt his heart melt more and more and he grew more and more confused. He could not tell her what the king intended for her. It would be too painful a truth to reveal. And so, he remained silent.

When they arrived at the king’s castle, the knight carried the young woman into the cold, dark palace and up into a chamber high in a turret. He ordered the servants to bring her food and water and told her she must stay there until the king demanded her presence.

To be continued tomorrow….

The Whole story.

Part 1:  The Girl with the Heart of Gold

Part 2: The Girl with the Heart of Gold

Part 3: The Girl with the Heart of gold

Part 4: the Girl with the Heart of Gold

It is cold today. Winter has arrived with blustery force dropping temperatures into the negative realms of double digit cold.

We are going to the Cenotaph at 11 this morning. We will bundle up and cover up exposed skin so we can stand with others to honour those we must not forget. We are going to pay tribute to those who fought for the freedom we all take for granted in this land of richness where thoughts of war are relegated to other places somewhere on the planet. Where guns blasting and bombs exploding do not darken our every step or haunt our sleep.

“It’s cold out,” my critter’s mind whispers. “Why not just honour the fallen from the warmth and safety of your home?”

“Because it is not just for the fallen I go,” my heart replies. “It is to stand in honour of those people around the world today who do not have the choice. It is to say “I see you. I do not forget you.” And while I cannot end the battles raging around them, I have the power to stand up for peace and make my voice heard by those who do have the power to create peace in war torn lands. They must hear our voices calling out for the guns to stop, for the wars to end and for peace to reign for all mankind.

I could never have been a police officer, I told C.C. the other night as we watched a movie. I could not go running towards danger while everyone else was fleeing.

I would have wanted to live another day. Not to fight or protect, but simply to enjoy the pleasures of a sunrise, a walk in the park, a peaceful day at home.

This is the freedom their sacrifice gives me. This is the freedom I get to take for granted.

For the men and women of our armed forces, for those whose hearts were stilled on battlefields around the world, on peace-keeping missions on foreign soils and while standing on guard at a war memorial in our capital city, I will stand in silence at the foot of the unknown soldier in a city park today and honour their sacrifices.

I will stand in silence for the first responders who run into danger to keep us safe, for those who have lost their lives while saving mine and others, for those who patrol our streets and keep watch over our sleeping houses, I will bundle up and stand in silence at the Cenotaph this morning.

It is the least that I can do so that they will know, I see you. I do not forget you. And I thank you.

I have hit a wall. Come up against myself backing away from… the brink. the edge. the precipice of the known. It is here that I find myself hesitating at the lip of speaking up, speaking out against the things that disturb my peace of mind, the things that create unease within my heart.

They are not worldly matters, these things against which I rail. But they are matters of the world. They are mirrors of what is happening on a grander scale in far points of the world. And they matter, to me.

And what matters to me is important because if I do not take care of what matters to me, if I do not acknowledge what causes me distress, I become distressed. And then, my ripple becomes uneasy. It becomes more seas tossing in fitful bursts of acting out than my desire of ripples gracefully moving out into the limitless possibility of life sailing along on calm waters creating the change I want to be in the world.

This wall I have hit, it is not of bricks and mortar. It is of the mind. It is found in that state of being where I am silent in the face of unfair treatment or injustice.

And, it is found in those spaces where I have let go of doing the things I know that center me, balance my energies and bring me calm. I have let go of my inner balance and allowed myself to slip into the ennui of telling myself, what difference does it make? Why does it matter if I don’t meditate this morning or don’t journal tonight? What difference does it make if I just let it go and be ‘normal’? Why can’t I just settle?

Don’t get me wrong. It is not one thing that has caused my ennui, it is many.

And here’s the thing. It is not the external factors that are contributing to my unease. It is my internal resistance to doing the things I know bring me peace of mind. It is my internal ‘brat’ acting out in ‘why bother’ land that is causing me unease.

The world is what the world is. And we are all the world.

In my world, what matters most for me, and to me, is that within me, within my internal world, I am turning up without giving into tuning out.

And I have been tuning out. I have been willfully disregarding the voice of reason, the voice that would have me believe I am capable of creating peace in my world. In my tuned out state I have been making room for the voice of doubt. The voice that would have me believe that doing nothing is more powerful than staying balanced, present and conscious.

Sometimes, I need to give way to believing there’s nothing I can do to find myself awakening again to the truth. Everything I do matters. Even in the not doing I am making a choice to either create more, or less of what I want in the world.

In my remembering of the power of my choices, I am reminded once again of the power I possess to make love, not war. To create harmony not discord. And it is in the taking action FOR my choices that I create the ripple I desire in the world.

I have been giving into my disordered thinking, my out of balance perspective that I am but a drop of water in the ocean.

As Mother Teresa once said, We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop.

Thing is, when we are on this earth, we are all drops of water in the ocean. When I am letting my drop be one of discord, or inertia, or ennui, I am not missing from the ocean, I am creating a ripple of unease that can become a wave of discord in a world of disharmony all around me.

This morning, I let go of resistance and begin again.

Always begin again.

I am off to my presentation — early start so, rather than write my own blog, I’m sharing my eldest daughter’s blog from today.

Want to make the world a better place? Turn up the music and dance your heart out!

All About Onsies by Lexi McD

This weekend I bought a onesie. I know what you’re thinking – it’s only day 11 and you already went shopping?!

Well, yeah. But in my very short list of exceptions to my year of no shopping (which I forgot to write out here) I gave myself permission to purchase something for each of the five weddings I have this year…so technically, it wasn’t really considered cheating.

The good news is, even if I did break a rule it was a worthwhile investment. Because I am going to wear it to every single wedding I go to ever.  Read more…

Getting directions for the Point In Time Count

We held the Point in Time Count of homelessness in our city last night. 90 volunteers and Calgary Homeless Foundation staff met at 8pm to team up and hit the streets and parks and alleyways to take a count of people experiencing homelessness. At the same time, over 80 agency facilities and institutions provided their data of people they were sheltering with ‘no fixed address’ so that we could get an accurate view of homelessness. For the first time, six other cities in the province joined Calgary on this first ever pan-Alberta count of homelessness.

We don’t have a tally of the numbers yet, but we are concerned. Alberta’s vibrant economy, Calgary’s recognized leadership in the sector and its pro-active and compassionate response to homelessness mean people come to our city everyday looking for work, housing and support. There’s work. There’s support. There’s just not a lot of affordable housing.

Before I met up with the team at the City Hall Atrium where the volunteers were mustering, I gave a talk about the United Way of Calgary and Area and the benefits and imperative of giving back. The event was hosted by Rock Energy, a junior oil and gas exploration company here in Calgary. This is the second year, Rock President, Allen Bey and his team have held the event and given the 100+ people present and the $54,000 and still rising donated when I left, it was a huge success.

Rock’s idea for creating an opportunity for their team and business suppliers and partners to join together and build community is brilliant.

Hold it in one of the swankiest clubs in town. Have great food. Ample libations with taxi chits for everyone to get home safely. Set up gambling tables around the room and provide everyone $100,000 in play money to gamble with. The price of entry? A donation to the United Way. And, before the fun begins, have a guest speaker from the United Way to bring home the message, we are all in this together.

That’s where I came in. I was the guest speaker.

As I began my talk I told the crowd about where I was going after I left the event. To the Point in Time Count of homelessness. From the Petroleum Club to the streets. It’s not a long walk, but it can be devastating.

And that’s why everyone was gathered together. To make the walk off the streets easier. To ensure that those who were taking it didn’t get lost in homelessness and despair. And, to ensure the United Way has the resources it needs to be catalysts of social change that will truly create a great city for everyone.

It was also a great evening to connect. To enjoy eachother’s company. To have fun. And, to give back. And in the giving back, connect to a greater sense of purpose in our community and be part of building a city that supports people in times of need and identifies what needs to change to ensure no one falls through the cracks on the road of life.

In Allen Bey’s opening remarks he stated that giving back to community is an essential part of living a life of purpose. And we all want to do that.

For the volunteers who came out to support the Point in Time count, giving back is in their DNA. There were police and bylaw officers who donated their time. There were mothers and fathers with their daughters and sons, social sector workers, agency partners all of whom gave up their night to come out and lend a hand so that we could understand the shifts and dynamics of homelessness in our city.

Giving back is easy. All it takes is a commitment to do something, anything that makes a difference, and then, go do it. But here’s the secret, to really get the benefits of giving back, you have to keep stretching your compassion muscles. You have to keep the giving back drive active.

The act can be as small as sharing a smile with a stranger on the street, holding the door open for someone behind you, paying for the next person’s coffee in the drive through at Tim Horton’s to donating time and money to a cause that inspires you. You can sit on the board of a charity whose mission aligns with your purpose or simply sign up to volunteer to serve a meal at an emergency shelter.

Again, the secret is to keep doing it.

Yes, one off donations of time, talents and treasures are important. But to truly feel the deep and lasting benefits of giving, it’s best to keep the heart open and the mind inspired by acts of daily grace.

I am grateful.

We were 18 for dinner on Sunday night. Family. Friends. Newcomers to our table.

It was perfect. It was Thanksgiving and we were a community giving thanks together.

Growing up, Thanksgiving in our house was always a time of bountiful food, family and sharing. My parents loved to entertain and we four children knew, no matter how late one of us extended an invitation, they would graciously welcome newcomers into our midst and make room at the table. There was always laughter, great food, wine, conversation and music at my parents table. It was where their spirits shone brightest.

When they met, my mother didn’t know how to cook. My father taught her. And then, she learned a few of her own tricks and together they shared in the passion of creating fabulous celebrations to which our friends often lobbied for an invitation. My father would lord it over her in the kitchen, but my mother learned to hold her ground, insisting the food not only pleased the palate but also the eyes. Her tables were beautiful, with pressed linens and fresh flowers, matching stemware and silverware, everything themed to the occasion.

It is where my mother and I differ the most. I love a beautiful table but enjoy a more eclectic sense, my artistic nature shying away from traditional for a more free-flowing look and feel. C.C. says it’s just like my cooking. “Free-styling” he calls it. No need for a recipe. Just go with the flow. 🙂

Last night, we were all in the flow of connecting around a table laden with food, our hearts full of the love that stirs when people sit together and share in a meal that has been lovingly prepared by each other. Everyone brought a dish. Everyone took great care to make their dish special. My friend Tamz came and helped decorate the house and at each place setting I  placed a leaf I’d collected and painted and written a word on. After dinner, each person was invited to say something about the word on their leaf that expressed their gratitude.

We went around the table and shared our thoughts and feelings of the words such as “Harmony”, “Laughter”, “Grace”, “Perspective”, “Nature”, “Home”, “Prosperity”, “Health”, “Joy”. Whether funny or serious, within each sharing was a sense of profound gratitude and connection to one another through the gratitude that fills our hearts.

It is good that once a year we are reminded to stop and breathe and give thanks.

It is good that we acknowledge the things we are grateful for, and the people in our lives for whom we give thanks.

It is good that within each of us there is this deep place that knows who we are shines brightest in our connections to one another.

It is good that we stop and acknowledge that which binds us together, connects us and keeps us safe.

It is good that we give thanks for the Love that illuminates our hearts and creates such abundance in our lives.

Seated around the table, listening to the conversation and the laughter, sharing stories and hopes and dreams I was reminded once again that in all things I am grateful. Because in all things, there is Love.

Breakfast on the deck. Our last morning.

I cannot resist the play on words. Therapy is great and with wine labels such as Freudian Sip and Pink Freud, it’s obvious that Therapy Vineyards leverage their moniker to delight the palate and tease the brain.  After 3 nights of staying in their guesthouse, I must agree. There’s great therapy to be found amongst the grapes for all the senses and all issues!

Spending time on the Naramata Bench as well as in the southern Okanagan wine country was amazing Couple’s Therapy (that’s what you call it when you buy two bottles of wine in a bag at Therapy Vineyards).

But now, to make the big decision.

And it is big. From the realization that April may not be the most ideal time of year to get married on The Bench, to where do we hold it, C.C. and I have not yet made a decision.

Which, given that I basically made all the decisions when I married last time, I’m finding it refreshing, and maybe just a little bit frustrating. While Therapy wines are fabulous, not even real therapy has resolved my control freak tendencies! 🙂

C.C. likes to be involved, and being involved in planning our wedding is important to him and to me. But it does take some adjustment on my part to make space for a male perspective in the decision-making. Did I mention that along with being a control-freak, I do like to get my way!

So, we talk. We balance. We go back and forth on what is our next course of action. And sometimes, I get annoyed. Impatient. My neural pathways are littered with subconscious mappings that dictate the way female/male relationships should work and not even wine has managed to smooth out their edges.

So I breathe, have another sip and breathe again. While I like to think of myself as a free-spirit, a liberated woman who does not buy into male/female stereotypes I am discovering there are within me ancient pathways into ‘how things are done’ that muddy up the road to relational harmony.

There is only one way through any discourse and that is to keep going through it. The conversation is the relationship and when we agree to keep engaging in the conversation with love and mutual respect, we keep strengthening the relationship.

It is one of the gifts C.C. brings to our relationship. He doesn’t defer or abdicate. He participates, especially in the big decisions like, where and when will we get married.

One thing about the past weekend, we both know getting married at a winery in the Okanagan is what we want. What the Naramata region offers is a delightfully rural yet in no way “hick” joie de vivre and a more intimate sense of being in the vines. And the views of Lake Okanagan are outstanding no matter where you are on The Bench.

On Tuesday morning, we chatted with the delightful Natalie, guest-house manager at Therapy, who had lots of great ideas on how we could hold the wedding in their vineyard. It would involve a tent on the flat piece of land in front of the guesthouse as well as a caterer. All doable she reassured us, especially as her partner Casey is a chef and caterer. Later, René Massinon, the managing partner at Therapy, toured us through the vineyards and the cellars, passionately describing the process of growing, cultivating and harvesting the grape and we knew — Therapy had taken hold! We are completely besotted with the beauty of the place and the hospitality of our hosts.

Then, C.C. and I went off to meet with Kendall the events/wine-shop manager at Bench 1775. And we both knew, we’d found the place. Situated just a few kilometres south of Therapy, Bench 1775 has a large enough space to crowd indoors should the weather be inclement and a huge spacious patio that provides an outstanding 360 degree view of the lake and Okanagan valley. We didn’t get a chance to taste their wines, that’s a ‘next time’ event. But we feel happy with our decision.

What’s great about Bench 1775 is we can still keep Therapy in the mix as their guesthouse is ideal for sleeping 16 to 22 people. With Penticton just moments away, as well as the quaint and delightful Naramata Heritage Inn and Spa just down the hill in the town centre, our guests will have lots of beautiful options as to where to rest their heads.

And now…. to really commit. An April wedding or do we wait until the fall? The beauty of the fall is undeniable. But, there is something about Spring. The sense of new growth, new life coming out of the earth, just as a marriage is a statement of the beginnings of new life in a relationship. It isn’t about the time of year — if only my psyche could grasp that it is not the weather that will make the event great, it is the people!

This weekend we’ll be cracking open one of the bottles we brought home and savouring the conversation and the wine as we spend some time going through my notes and measuring our options and the possibilities of what really works — for us.

Because in the end, that’s who it’s all about. The both of us and the celebration of our love, our bond, our relationship with the people we love.