Kelly Clarkson’s song, Catch My Breath, is playing in my head this morning. I heard it over the weekend and it continues to resonate…

Catching my breath, letting it go,
Turning my cheek for the sake of the show
Now that you know, this is my life,
I won’t be told what’s supposed to be right

Catch my breath, no one can hold me back,
I ain’t got time for that
Catch my breath, won’t let them get me down,
It’s all so simple now….

This is my life.

And these past five days I got to spend it somewhere I love — in the Choices seminar room. What a gift.

This was the first time I didn’t have a small group to lead and instead, spent my time at the back table helping to keep the room flowing. It was a great opportunity to observe the room in action. To see how one process builds on the last, establishing the foundation for the next.

It is an incredibly intricate and deep foundation that, over the five days, moves each person from that place of walking into the room on the first day where the unknown is staring them in the eyes, to leaving on Sunday evening where all that surrounds and supports them as they stand looking into the eyes of their fellow travellers is Love.

It is one of the things I appreciate so much about the program. Each person in that room has gone through every single step of the journey as a trainee before asking someone else to take it. Every single person has experienced the fear and anxiety of awakening to the wonderment and the awe of coming alive to the truth of their own magnificence and capacity to live out loud.

In my staying involved in the program I believe I have given both my daughters one of the greatest gifts I could give them and me — My commitment to living my life awake and alive, in that place where Love is always the answer no matter the circumstance. And, in my staying involved, they have both stayed involved which means that my heart knows they have the tools and ability to live their lives out loud. My heart knows the choices they make in their lives are based on their strength of character, and not fear or anger of the past.

Mary Davis, who is the daughter of Choices founder, Thelma Box, and I were talking about how as my daughters and I healed from the trauma of the past, we have built a foundation where we are not constantly trying to deal with or run away from the pain of what happened in the ‘there and then’ but are instead, living in the ‘here and now’. In forgiving the past, shame and blame and anger and all the junk that hurt us has melted away leaving only Love to fill our hearts. In Love, I trust each of my daughters to live their own lives in grace. Knowing that each step they take is not founded on the fear of the past becoming the future, I know they have the courage, the strength and the self-love they need to take each step of their journey grounded in the truth of who they are, magnificence, incredible, amazing women of worth. In their truth, they have tools to handle lifes ups and down while staying true to their hearts.

It is a wonderful gift for my mother’s heart to trust and not fear. To love and not hide. To breathe and not be constantly running away from the truth to catch my breath.

We gathered on the deck, sipped bubbly, laughed and shared stories of her exploits.

Together, we travelled the few minutes to Ellie’s favourite park, walked down the hill to the river and cast her ashes onto the waters.

And the mosquitoes fed and the swallows swarmed and the river flowed and Ellie slipped away.

It was her favourite place to run, to swim, to sniff in the trees, to revel in the great outdoors — and to roll.

It was inevitable. Ellie would swim in the water, run back to shore, drop her body to the ground and roll. The sandier the better. it didn’t matter what you said or did, where she was, when she came out of the water, she rolled and squirmed and rubbed her back into the dirt.

A real treat when she got back to the car! The sand would collect in her coat and after she lay somewhere, would remain behind to remind you of where she’d been. She would eye me with such dismay when we got home and she would be forced to lie on a blanket by the door until her coat was dry. I mean, seriously? I have to stay here while you’re somewhere else in the house? Harrumph!

Last night, we walked along the shore, each of us looking for a heartrock. And when her ashes were gone, we stood in a cirlce, passing our heart rock from hand to hand until our original rock arrived back at its owner. And then, as one we threw our stones into the river, a final salute to the dog who lived the moral of a story I’d written the girls when they were young.

“Even a heart of stone can be warmed in loving hands.”

Ellie could melt anyone’s heart and warm them with her endless squirmy greetings.

Tamara had brought along two beautiful concrete hearts on which we wrote our farewells and then, hiked into the woods to hide in a shaded alcove for Ellie to rest forever more beneath the trees.

It was a loving farewell.

I feel so blessed and grateful. So many people whose lives she touched who came out to bid her adieu. Both my daughters and my step-daughter were there, C.C., Dejana who was with her when we first brought Ellie home. My friend Veronica who walked with Ellie and me down by the river, Laura, Erin, Caitlin and Tamara who Ellie was delighted to have living with us because it meant she got someone else to love on all day long and who she knew she could con into giving her more treats.

And when we got home, Al and Jane and Taylor and Tim arrived and we  planted the beautiful pottery dish Alexis and I had found just for her. In it, we placed a glass heart filled with her ashes, a poem and her tag.

What a wonderful send-off for a wonderful friend. And while I do not know who wrote the poem, I am grateful for their words.

Pawprints Left By You

You no longer greet me,
As I walk through the door.
You’re not there to make me smile,
To make me laugh anymore.

Life seems quiet without you,
You were far more than a pet.
You were a family member, a friend,
…a loving soul I’ll never forget.

It will take time to heal-
For the silence to go away.
I still listen for you,
And miss you every day.

You were such a great companion,
Constant, loyal and true.
My heart will always wear,
the pawprints left by you.

You knows those times when you wonder…  How can the weekend already be over? Where did it go?  Well… This weekend was one of them.

From a jam packed Friday evening at the Grandstand show at the Calgary Stampede, to a tour Saturday morning of Housing First facilities with Tom Mulcair, the leader of Canada’s NDP party, to dinner in the garden for 8 with my cousins from Paris, my step-daughter’s play, my eldest daughter flying in from Vancouver and late night drinks at a favourite restaurant with her and her sister and a couple of friends, to another night at the Stampede, the weekend flew by and it’s already Monday!

Where does time go when you’re having fun?

Can I just say it… whew!

It was fun. It was family. It was life and best of all, was having my daughter come home.

And… I am running late — which is okay. I have committed to giving myself space to be here, or not, this summer.

And in being here, I’m sharing a pictorial view of my weekend — family, laughter, good food, good times, sunshine and love. Who could ask for anything better?

I planted the tiger lillies 3 years ago. This is the first season it’s bloomed.

 

The first thing she does when she sits down beside me is introduce herself and tell me that she is almost as old as the Stampede. “I’ll be 97 in September,” she says, her eyes twinkling brightly, her smile warm and inviting. “I’m only 5 years younger than the Stampede!” she adds with enthusiasm.

Her name is Riva. Petite. Energetic. Feisty. She doesn’t need a walker. She doesn’t need a cane. “I stay active,” she tells me when I ask her her secret to life.  “I’ve never met an opportunity to have fun I haven’t taken,”  and she claps her hands, laughs and adds, “And I always have fun at Stampede.”

For Reva, these are not just words. The day before, she was up at 5:30 am and out of the building at 6 to volunteer at Kids Day at the Stampede. “We served 32,000 people breakfast,” she tells me. “You should have seen all the excitement! It was such fun.”

“They’ve already booked me for next year,” she says and adds confidently, “I’ll be there.”

Last night, my mother’s senior’s centre held its annual Stampede bash. About 150 residents and family turn up for the event which includes not only the prerequisite beans and other Stampede fare, but also a band, which is why Riva is so excited. “I love to dance,” she says. “Always have. Even as a little girl.”

And dance she does. Her feet are tapping under the table the moment the band begins to play. “Would you like to dance?” I ask her and she doesn’t hesitate. She is up out of her chair and on the dance floor in a flash leaving my youngest daughter, who has joined my mother and me for the dinner, trailing behind her.

Reva is indefatigable. She keeps in step. She moves her feet, turns around, claps, laughs, shakes her hips, throwing her whole being into the dance. And in between songs, she doesn’t really sit down as much as simply walk to her seat, take a breath and a sip of water only to return to the dance floor for the very next song.

I look around the room where there is proof that women do outlive men by vast margins — the audience is mostly women. They sit in their chairs and all of them are smiling at Riva as they watch her dance. Their bodies are moving to the beat of the music. Their feet tapping under the tables, their hands tapping on the table tops. Country and rock merged together. Nothing too fast but all of it with a good beat to follow. I ask a couple of women to come up and dance but mostly they demur. Some of them tell me they used to dance. One woman shares she’s won 6 ballroom competitions. Another tells me about dancing with her husband at their wedding.

One woman, Zaza, gets up with her walker and takes a few spins on the dance floor. Her smile lights up the room.

But few get up to dance.

A couple of the men get up to ask someone to dance. One of them asks my daughter. When they finish, he comes and asks me. “I can’t believe you’re her mother. I thought you were sisters.” I laugh and we take a turn on the dance floor.

“I’m Claudio”* he says. “Are you Italian? French?”

“My mother is French,” I reply.

“Of course. I should have known,” he says with a big smile. “The most beautiful women in the world are all French.”

And then he asks me my name and how to spell it. Without missing a beat, he tells me the meaning of each letter of Louise.

“L is for Lovely. O is for Original. U is for unique and I is for Intelligent and Irresistible. S is for Sexy and the E is for Exceptional.”

“You’re quite the sweet talker,” I laugh in response.

And he laughs back and tells me of his journeys around the world where he worked in the oil patch and never ever wanted to settle down. “I married once,” he says. “But it didn’t last long. The world is filled with too many beautiful women and I couldn’t just stay with one.”

“And here I thought I was special,” I say with a laugh.

“You are!” he replies. “You’re a woman and every woman is special.”

Definitely a sweet talker.

It was an evening of big smiles, big hearts and big words too!

And through it all, I was enchanted by a 96 year old woman who reminded me that age is simply a number. That life doesn’t happen on the sidelines. It happens when we get out of our seats, and get moving. It happens when we throw ourselves into the dance and live it up for all we’re worth.

I think I might just sign up with Reva to volunteer for next year’s Kids Day breakfast too!

It is Stampede time in the city. Cowboys and cowgirls strut along hay bale lined streets, ‘just out of the box’ pointy-toed boots shining, belt buckles gleaming amidst freshly pressed jeans and denim shirts. Smiles greet strangers, and visitors become your next best friend beneath the brim of white stetson’s and SmithBilts.

The wild west is alive on every street corner. Wrangler dudes stage shoot-outs. Rodeo ropin’ cowboys roam the streets eager to rope in their next conquest and square dancin’ couples jostle up against hungry patrons eager to chow down on pancakes and sausages being served up from the grill. Early each morning of this 10 day extravaganza, there’s a pancake breakfast in every quadrant, empty parking lot and back deck of the city. There are barbecues and corn roasts too. It’s a party and everyone’s invited. Yeehaw!

And amidst the flowing skirts and denim jackets, the pearly whites and firm handshakes, a homeless man shuffles through the crowd. His shirt is grimy. His jeans torn. A once white sock peeps out from a hole in the left toe of his scuffed up sneakers. “Got any spare change for a coffee?” he asks a stranger standing in line for breakfast. Before the patron can respond, a police officer walks up and takes the homeless man firmly by the shoulder. “Move along sir. Move along.”

It is the constant litany throughout the city during this time of high spirits and foot-stompin’ good times mixed with copious amounts of whisky and beer.

Move along sir. Move along.

There are watering holes in this city that will make 75% of their annual sales during the ten day drunk that Stampede brings to their giant tents and sawdust covered floors. Parties go late into the night. Revellers stumble, drunk and disorderly through the streets. For the police, it is not an easy time as civic intolerance for social disorder takes a back seat to the myth ‘it’s all in the name of having a good time’. Little business gets done during the Stampede’s wild 10 days though many unions happen outside the marriage beds when partners stumble, giving rise to divorce ‘Stampede style’ and a baby boom in April.

It is, in many ways, how I imagine the wild west once was. Lawlessness running wild on the dust-covered trails leading west into the long prairie grasses. Cattle grazing and cowboys ranging, rifles tucked into a saddle flap, tie-down ropes on the ready to bring in an errant calf. It was fight or die for subsistence in a harsh and unforgiving landscape. It was make it or break it in a city growing up in the shadow of the Rockies, where men scrambled for the next big rush and the women folk struggled to put down roots.

And everyone was after the same thing. A head of cattle or black gold gushing from the earth. Take your pick, it was hard, gruelling work and it was all there waiting to be captured for the man willing to bet his stake on a winner take all gamble to be the biggest cowboy on the range.

And at the end of the day, cowboys and cowgirls, oil men and their ‘women folk’ met under the stars, beneath the big tent, on the dusty floor of a barn and partied up like there was no tomorrow. Ever day was a no holds barred quest to survive against a harsh environment where there was no place for the down and out. ‘You make your way pardner. You pull yourself up by your bootstraps and you grab hold of that ring and hold on ’cause you’re in for a wild ride!’

In a city high on the excitement of staging “The Greatest Outdoor Show on Earth”, there is no room for poverty amidst the prosperity eagerly strutting the heart of wild west for the over one million visitors who will take in the festivities over the ten days. This is Big Business and Big Business has little room for little brothers strugglin’ to make ends meet on the other side of the street. Down and outs are bad for business. We gotta move ’em along.

And the man moves along, only to return when the coast is clear. “Got any spare change for a coffee?” he asks before moving along, to the next and the next and the next.

Definition of BLISS

1

:  complete happiness

2

:  paradise, heaven

Source: http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/bliss

I have spent a lifetime attempting to pummel my world into shape. To beat into submission errant thoughts that would keep me from attaining everything I wanted in life. I have pushed and shoved and moved and huffed and puffed and railed and screamed and cried and yearned and done pretty well everything to get what I wanted.

And in my brute force attack of having the life I wanted, I lost the very thing I was searching for. Inner peace. Contentment. Bliss.

And no matter the gyrations of my being here, the universe kept turning. The world kept spinning.

The universe doesn’t care. It is.

The universe is everything and all. It resonates at the highest frequency, eternal. Ever-lasting.

It’s me, the mortal, the constantly searching, continually seeking, always looking for more, the perfect answer, the perfect vibration who creates the turmoil in my life. I am the emanation of the negative vibration. I am the one spelling out the myths of my lack on this material plane. I am the one holding me back from bliss, keeping me falling into dismay. I am the one who keeps me stepping out into discord, falling out of sync, tripping up, down and inside out in the universe.

And the universe keeps spinning. The universe doesn’t care. It just is.

And in its ‘just is’ness’ the universe waits for no one. It just keeps being.

So often, we step through life bemoaning its unfairness, deriding its inability to ‘get in line’, to turn up for us in a way other than the way it’s turning up. We tell ourselves it’s not supposed to be this way. It doesn’t make sense. We ask, ‘Why me?’. ‘Why can’t I…?’ ‘What’s the use?’ And then, we stumble through the darkness, searching for a way out of our confusion by keeping our eyes closed to the light.

Reality is, the universe doesn’t care how we turn up. It is always filled with all we want, all we need, all we desire — it isn’t waiting for us to awaken to the truth of our divinity, our beauty, our majesty. It already knows who we are. It already grasps our magnificence.

It’s job is to keep on about its business. To keep evolving. It doesn’t care if we awaken to its beauty, or not. It is simply being the Divine essence of all things, filled with limitless possibility of life eternal, life divinely beyond the earthly realm of our imaginings.

When I let go of caring about what other’s think, about the unfairness of the world, about the trials and tribulations of my daily existence, and tune into the divine essence of my being, I align myself with the wonders of the world around me. In my alignment, life takes on a rosy hue never before realized by me.

It isn’t about material possessions or having the biggest title ever imagined. It is about breathing into the inner peace that sees the beauty in this moment, living it up for all I’m worth without measuring what’s missing against the scale of all that I’ve achieved, or not.

The universe doesn’t care if I am Chief Pooh-bah of all things important, or Grunt Underdog of all things irrelevant. The universe is — it’s up to me to care enough about me to let go of striving to have it all ‘out there’ when all I ever need is here, inside of me, awaiting to awaken to the brilliance of my being at peace with who I am. In my acceptance of who I am is the gift of love for all of me in this moment. In love, I awaken to the truth that the world of my dreams is here, right now, waiting for me to awaken.

The universe is. My awakening to magnificence isn’t up to it. It’s up to me.

My dawning of bliss is but a breath away.

 “Your vision will become clear only when you look into your heart. Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens.”  Karl Gustav Jung

Throughout my life, I have sought clear vision. An understanding of who I am, why I am the way I am, and what I can do to be the person I want to be, am meant to be.

Throughout my life, the journey inward has guided my heart into awakening to the truth that who I am meant to be is my most magnificent self. That being less than my human nature is to play into the voices of doubt who would have me believe I am small. I am inconsequential. I am unimportant.

We are all important. Every human being on this planet adds value. Adds context. Adds texture to the ebb and flow of our world around us. Like a butterfly fluttering its wings in Africa, every person gives and takes from our planet, creating a stir, however infinitesimal, where ever we go.

Everything is connected to everything. We live on a magnificent planet to which gravity connects us with invisible bonds. To sustain our presence on this earth we must gently and lovingly protect the world around us, celebrate its beauty and express our gratitude for its abundance in everything we do.

We live on a planet of beauty and majesty. We live amongst abundance. Our planet is magnificent. And we are the keepers of its treasures.

To save our planet, to preserve this earth that supports our lives, we must be clear on what we do to our planet everyday when we indulge ourselves with the belief, nothing is connected to anything, what I do doesn’t matter, someone else will take care of it.

We are all connected. And when we lean into that which connects, into its strengths, its wisdom, its shared experience of our human condition, we create more of what we want in the world based on what is best for ourselves, and for eachother.

In Africa, it is called “Ubuntu”. “I am what I am because of who we all are.”

What we do matters. How each of us behaves makes a difference. And if we don’t do something, who will?

We are the champions of our world, the creators of all that happens on this planet every day. We are the creators of war, the harbourers of injustice, the purveyors of hatred.

We are also the lovers, the story-tellers, the earth-movers and shakers. We are powerful beyond our greatest imaginings.

In my life, I have contributed to holes in the ozone, global warming, and a host of other ailments affecting this planet upon which I live.

Now is my time to stand upon mountain tops, to leap off cliffs into still waters and to courageously bridge the gaps that open up before me as I fearlessly look inward to my contributions to this planet and the world around me. It is time for me to acknowledge where I do not add value so that I can change my direction immediately. I have the power to change my world. I have the ability to ensure I step lightly and tread gently like a butterfly kiss upon my cheek.

We all do.

Let us make this our time. Let us each use our individual power to connect and create majesty, beauty, wonder, awe, and peace in the world around us. Let us each be butterfly wings gently creating ripples of love in all we do.

***Last week I mentioned that I had written about “Ubuntu”. Yesterday’s post and this one are two of the posts I previously wrote on the subject.  The video below is one I shared then as well — it is really beautiful.***

You can protect your liberties in this world only by protecting the other man’s freedom.

You can be free only if I am free.
Clarence Darrow

She didn’t know her own strength. She’d never been tested. Never been put up against man’s nature to tear things down.

No one knew what would happen when the winds of advertsity blew. When the gales howled. When the hurricanes ripped through the foundations of her belief. Give me your tired, your poor…

No one knew the measure of her strength under pressure of another’s assertions he knew best, that his truth was the righteous belief of mankind’s salvation. No one knew.

And, when the winds came, as they often do, they howled and careened around her body, pummeling her righteous stance, her insistance that she not be swayed. Her belief that she must hold fast. Be strong.

The winds screamed like a thousand banshees roaring through desert sands, a storm of idealogies cast upon the winds, swirling around her, rising up into a hailstorm of dissent, rising up with hatred and condemnation, fear and loathing. A typhoon of evolutionary calamity in the making of war that would never know peace until quietened in an oasis of calm at the sheer strength of her steadfast gaze through time. …Give me… Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore…

The winds roared and she stood strong and true as she stands strong and true today. True to the foundation upon which she was built, a symbol of friendship, freedom and peace, this lady of liberty. This lady of the strength to hold fast the belief of nations and the dream of all mankind. Liberty for all. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me…

Hers is the strength of a dream woven into the fabric of their collective nationhood aspiring for equality, justice, freedom, and the pursuit of happiness for all mankind. A nation of people who stand true in their belief in the rightness of all men to worship from their own separate pew. The strength of a nation that stands true to the right of all men, women and children, where ever on earth they may stand to rise up and be heard, be seen and be free. I lift my lamp beside the golden door!

Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!

The above is the inscription inside the base of the Statues of Liberty in New York harbour, Swan Ally Island in the Seine River in Paris and Paris’ Luxembourg Gardens. The lines are found in a sonnet by Emma Lazarus, The New Colossus written in 1883.

The New Colossus

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles.
From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
Emma Lazarus, 1883

I have reposted this from my Recover Your Joy blog I posted it in in 2010 in honour of our American neighbour’s July 4th Independence Day celebrations.

Happy July 4th my friends!

PS — having since written a piece on the African term, Ubuntu — I can see the connection in all things — We are all connected. Ubuntu from the Bantu language, represents the philosophy that — “I am what I am because of who we all are.”

May we all be free together. May we all know our magnificence together. May we all be together as one human race celebrating our humanity.