Choices starts today. 80 people will walk into a room at noon today, strangers, unknown to one another, wanting to hold their space, keep their distance. They’ll feel scared, timid, worried, curious, angry, hopeful, hopeless, confused, a whole host of emotions.

They’ll sit. Crossed arms against chest, scrunched down in their chairs, legs crossed, eyes looking down, in the back row.

I have been in that room many, many times on a Wednesday afternoon when the trainees walked in and I have commiserated with their feelings of fear, concern, curiosity, anger… I was there too. Seven and a half years ago. Sitting in the circle, wondering why I was there. Wondering if anyone would notice I was there.  Would anyone see me? Know me? Would anyone find the key to help me let down my guard, take off my mask, step in front of my wall?

I hid it well. My fear of being ‘seen’. I hid them well my feelings of being separate from, other than, not part of the group. Of being an observer, outside looking in, not included, not part of, not welcome.

I hid it there too.

I was a master at disguise. An expert at hiding out in the open without anyone realizing I was hiding out behind my perfect smile. Behind my big brown eyes. Behind my fears of being seen.

I thought I was different. I thought everyone else knew the truth, everyone else fit in and I was the one missing the pieces that made it possible for me to be part of the group, a part of the crowd, standing on the inside looking around instead of on the outside looking in wanting to be picked as one of the team.

It wasn’t that I felt like I was ‘just a face in the crowd’. It was more that I felt like I was always one step out of step with what the world was doing. It was as if I felt like I was missing the secret code that would turn the key to my being real, visible, complete.

I didn’t understand that day in April 2006 when I first walked into the Choices room that self-discovery is a personal journey. It’s not a place in time. It’s not a one step fits all.

It is a personal journey.

It takes years to build the walls that keep us locked up, shut out, closed in.

And while in the five days of Choices I learned to identify and know my fears of being real, of being visible, of being unmasked, it takes practice, patience and persistence to continue to live out loud. It takes love to hold myself on the outside of my walls looking and living and being real in whatever space I exist.

80+ people will walk into a seminar room today to be greeted by 30+ coaches who have all experienced the very same emotions of walking into that room not knowing what to expect. The difference today is they have chosen to volunteer their time for the next five days to be part of the journey of self-discovery that Choices represents.

I have a friend in the room today. I don’t know him well but when I suggested this might be a good starting point for him to unravel the key to his living the life he’s always dreamed of — even if he doesn’t know what he wants — he said yes, I’ll go. What have I got to lose?

I am grateful.

As we chatted about what he could expect in the room today, he asked, “Is it a cult?”

I smiled. “If a cult is a place where you find your own answers, if it’s a place where you discover what it is YOU want in life and determine for yourself how YOU are going to get it, then sure, call it whatever you want. But don’t go into that room expecting someone to give you the secret to living your life. No one in that room has your answers. No one in that room will tell you what to do with your life. No one can. That’s your journey. Your discovery.”

Seven and a half years ago I discovered I truly was 100% accountable for my own happiness. I discovered to live the life of my dreams it was up to me to get clear on what my dreams are — and then to paint them every colour of the rainbow I choose.

I’m still discovering. Still exploring. Still living my life beyond my comfort zone, challenging myself every day to get up, get out there and SHINE!

No one tells me how to do it, when to do it, what to say or where to go.

No one can.

That’s my journey. My discovery. My path.

What’s yours?

What are you willing to create, give, take, build to live the life of your dreams? What are you willing to give up? Let go? Hold onto? Release?

I have a friend who is going deep diving into his dreams today. I am excited because I know that on the other side of his fear is the WOW! he’s been looking for. I know that beyond his limited beliefs of who he is and what he can do in the world is the truth he has been seeking about who he truly is and what he is capable of in this world. It’s all there within him, waiting for him to discover it for himself.

Choices starts today. I’m not coaching this month until the weekend when C.C. and I will volunteer our time because — once upon a time, other’s volunteered theirs so that we could discover for ourselves what we want more of in our lives.

I’m excited!

“I am grateful for second chances,” he says, a little smile pulling up the corners of his lips, his head nodding up and down. He reminds me a bit of Father Christmas, snow white hair and beard, neatly trimmed. Round cheeks,  eyes crinkling at the corners. A quiet, gentle demeanour.

He is a resident at The Madison, the apartment building owned by the Calgary Homeless Foundation and operated by Alpha House in support of formerly homeless veterans.

It is Thanksgiving, and we have gathered together to share a traditional meal on this special day.

His comment hits my heart, softening the edges, seeping into the cracks where ennui and apathy would grow if I didn’t believe so strongly that giving is receiving. I give and receive comments like his. Comments that remind me to give thanks for my second chances. That we all deserve them. That we are not destined to live in sorrow and pain. We are designed to live in Love and joy. It’s just life sometimes gets in the way of our remembering our birthright.

Second chances give us back our memory of who we truly are.

One of the dinner guests suggests that we follow the tradition of going around the table with each person stating one thing they are grateful for. I love this tradition. Believe it is powerful and courageous act to put words to our gratitude and express them aloud.

We begin going around the table. First ‘the young people’ suggests the man who has asked that we follow tradition. That means my daughter (who baked pumpkin pie complete with lovely boxes and labels!) and two friends who cooked up candied yams and mashed potatoes and have come to help out with serving up dinner. Next, Diana who has prepared a delicious carrot salad that creates a centrepiece of colourful orange and white and yellow and green in the centre of the table.  And then C.C. and then me. Family. Elders who guide me in the world. Friends. Being together. Being here. Laughter. Love. My family. My education. My job. My life. Our gratitude is wide and deep. So much abundance. So many gifts and people to be grateful for.

And then we move to the table where the white bearded man begins. He doesn’t hesitate. He quietly says the words and takes a breath. “I am grateful for second chances.” There is a moment of awe-filled silence after he speaks. He bows his head. Closes his eyes. This is deep-seated gratitude. Heart-driven.

We silently take in his words. We are all grateful for second chances. His. Our own. One’s we’ve experienced. One’s yet to come. The world is filled with second chances. We are grateful.

And the voices continue around the circle. Each person sharing from their hearts what they are grateful for. And each connects back to what the second chance of the Madison means for them.

Not dying on the streets.

Not living in a shelter any more.

No longer fearing what tomorrow may bring.

Having people who care, a place of my own, a door to close where I am safe. A community. Men to share my stories, laughter, a smoke. Staff who see me. Know me. Treat me well.

This place. Ah yes, this place. The Madison. And all the heads nod in agreement. Smiles lift the corners of everyone’s mouths. This place. Yes. We are all grateful for this place.

I was humbled yesterday. Humbled and touched, my heart broken open in gratitude and love. My being enveloped in all that connects us, all that makes us human in this shared condition of life.

I was grateful for C.C. getting up early with me to get the turkey into the oven. For walking with Ellie and me to the grocery store to pick up some extra vegetables without suggesting “you’ve got enough food Louise”.– Is there ever such a thing as too much food on a Thanksgiving table?

I am grateful for my daughter stopping at the grocery store on her way to join us to pick up a last minute forgotten item and for CJ and her friend for their willingness to come and be part of the gathering, especially as her friend is in the military and is going off for basic training in a couple of weeks time. He sat and laughed and chatted and shared stories with the men and I felt warmed by his capacity to connect in such a meaningful way. And for my dear friend Diana who arrived early and cleaned vegetables and laughed and joked with everyone and who seemed as if she’s been part of this gathering always and who offered to be part of this gathering again.

I am grateful.

There were a couple of new faces at the table this time. Two of the men have passed away since last I was there.  I am grateful that for whatever time was possible, those who have gone had the opportunity to experience their second chance so that in whatever time they had, they could remember who they truly are. Magnificent human beings. Born to shine. Designed to live in Love and joy.

I am grateful.

Autumn is Falling
30 x 36″
Acrylic on Canvas

I awoke this morning and started preparing the stuffing for the turkey. By eight, the bird was in the oven and the potatoes were on the boil.

I am grateful for the abundance that fills my home. For the love and laughter, the shared times and memories, the graceful joy of knowing, this is my home. My refuge. My sanctuary.

My youngest daughter, C.C. and I, along with a couple of friends, are cooking Thanksgiving dinner today for the veterans living at The Madison. The Madison is a 15 suite apartment that provides housing and support for formerly homeless veterans in our city. I am grateful my daughter and friends are joining me in creating this meal. I am grateful the residents welcome us with such grace. I am grateful.

Yesterday, I awoke and began to prepare an appetizer for Thanksgiving dinner at my sisters. I realized I was missing an ingredient and decided to use the opportunity to walk Ellie, the wonder pooch, to the grocery store. On our way, we crossed through our neighbourhood off-leash area and I stopped to clean up dog poop someone had missed. Or maybe they didn’t care. Or maybe it was dark when they ran their pooch and didn’t see it. Whatever the reason, mine was not to judge but to take the opportunity to be of service to my community and pick it up with a loving heart. I always carry extra bags for just such opportunities.  As I picked it up and then walked it to the garbage can at the edge of the park,  I was grateful that so many dog-owners are conscientious about cleaning up after their pet and sent a prayer out to those who don’t inviting them to open their hearts to the benefits of supporting one another in keeping the park clean. I know I can’t change the behaviour of those who don’t clean up. I also know I am responsible for how and what I send out into the world. Let my offering be harmony not discord.

I am grateful today for dinner last night with family and friends, for the laughter, a table groaning with abundance that my sister lovingly prepared, and all the gifts of an evening spent cherishing the family ties that bind us.

This morning, when I pulled a card from the deck of ‘Daily Practice for Maintaining Spiritual Balance” that sits on my desk, the card was, “May your heart sing and your soul rejoice. Experience the wonder of life.” It’s message was to ‘celebrate all that is good and blessed about your life, realizing that gratitude is a powerful remedy. Appreciating your blessings increases the vitality of your life force.’

My life feels vital today. I feel alive. I feel complete with the wonder and awe of this day where the sun shines brightly, the birds twitter at the feeder hanging from the crab apple tree in the back yard. I delight in the autumn colours festooning the trees, the leaves blanketing the lawn in golden hues and the late autumn flowers still blooming in the planter by the front door. I celebrate all that is good and blessed in my life, cherishing the breath that fills me up with Love and joy and gratitude.

I am grateful.

It is Thanksgiving Day in Canada. Happy Thanksgiving to my fellow Canadians. Happy Gratitude Day to all.

namaste.

There was a young man at the Homeless Awareness Day event we held at Olympic Plaza yesterday. His name is Brian. Brian is connected to an agency that works with at risk youth. Brian is an ardent believer in helping out. Giving back. Being part of changing the face of homelessness.

Yesterday, he handed out cards with Facts on homelessness. He held up a poster. He sat and listened.

At the event, MLA Kent Hehr spent some time talking to Brian. He learned that one of Brian’s dreams was to get a photo with the Mayor.

Mayor Nenshi arrived at the event. Addressed the crowd. Moved them with his passion and his commitment to ensuring fellow Calgarians did not keep ending up homeless. At one point, someone in the crowd yelled out, “Then maybe you should come and live on the streets and see what it’s really like!” And Mayor Nenshi called back, “Why would I do that?” Adding more people to the streets won’t change the reality of being homeless. Homelessness sucks. What we’ve got to do, he said, is to ensure we do whatever it takes to get people off the streets, to move them out of shelters and into housing, and to do that we need more affordable housing.

He was on message. On task and on point. As part of his talk he read the messages youth wrote on the suckers. Hearing them read out loud was hard.

These are our children. And these statements frame the reality of those youth who hit the streets. Pretty telling a message.

As I was shepherding the Mayor off the stage, trying to get him away as quickly as possible as he was on a really tight timeline, MLA Kent Hehr stopped him and said, “See that young man sitting over there?” And he pointed to Brian with his cardboard poster sitting on the steps of the plaza, taking in the events. “Well one of his dreams come true would be to have a photo of himself with you Mayor Nenshi. Would you take a moment to do it?”

Mayor Nenshi didn’t hesitate a moment. I ran and called to Brian to come down and he stood beside the Mayor, smile wide, poster held high and had his photo taken.

It was heart-warming and very very touching.

As the Mayor walked away, the two hip hop performers at the event, The Blue and Notebook, followed the Mayor off stage and asked to have their photo taken. Later I saw a tweet where one of the young high school students posted he was so excited to have met the Mayor.

It is a measure of the man that young people in our city look up to him. That they want to meet him. He inspires them — and I believe youth need adults who inspire them in good ways. Thank you Mayor Nenshi.

Later, I spoke with Kent Hehr and thanked him for caring enough to ensure Brian had his photo taken. He shared how he’d spent half an hour chatting with Brian before the event began and how he just really wanted to ensure Brian got his wish. “It was a small thing, I know,” Kent said. “But it was important for Brian and I’m so glad it happened.”

“It’s a reflection of your heart and spirit,” I told Kent.

And he shrugged my comment off. “Just doing what I can”, he said.

Kent does a lot. He gives, a lot. And he makes a difference.

Kent is at every event he can make in the inner city riding that he represents in the provincial legislature. He is tireless. Committed. Passionate about the work he does.

And yesterday, as I watched the events unfold, I felt grateful. I felt happy and proud.

This is my city. These are my fellow Calgarians.

And, I was grateful that we have a commitment to ensuring public spaces are wheelchair accessible, which means, Kent could make it to the podium. We have a public space where over 300 people could gather and participate in an event that focused on the need to build more affordable housing in our city. We have youth, young hip hop artists who want to share their talents and their time to make a difference. And we have public servants who take the time, and have the heart to ensure a young man can have his dream come true and a Mayor who no matter how rushed he is, stops to have a photo taken with two young high school students who want to be able to tweet, I met the Mayor.

Wow. What a great city. What amazing people.

I am grateful. The weather held off (it poured later that evening). Over 300 people turned up. TV media were there. Photos were taken of people sitting on The Big Comfy Couch. Planter boxes were viewed and the auction has begun online on the Alex website. (The Alex website) For those of you in Calgary — these boxes are awesome!.

Mayor Nenshi read the Proclamation and he said, Homelessness sucks! Ald. John Mar came out simply to be on hand in case we needed him, and to be part of the event. Wisdom and stories were shared by those at the frontlines and those who came to lend their energy and name to ensuring the event was a  success. Gord Gillies, Anchor, Global News; Bob Steele, Afternoon host of XL 103; Kim O’Brien, Exec Dir of Horizon Housing; John Rook, Pres & CEO, CHF; Alvin Law, Motivational Speaker and author; Ken Lima-Coelho – YMCA Community Builder, Heebee-jeebee;  Jari Love – Local fitness guru and founder of Get-Ripped; Walter Twiddy, CEO, Neighbourlink; and Sue Fortune, Director, The Alex; Sean French, CACHH; Yvette Rasmussen, The Alex.

You make our city great. You make a difference.

And to all the agencies who turned up and participated and lent a hand, setting up, tearing down, moving tables and planters and smiles and carrying signs and greeting passers-by to the wonderful people from Kairos, to the volunteers and all those who simply came out to find out what they could do  — You Rock!

Thank you.

Join the movement!  Here are 3 things +1 each of us can do to ensure our City has affordable housing for everyone.

Today is World Homeless Awareness Day.

I’m excited about what the day will bring (I love starting my day with excited anticipation!)

At 11:30 people from across the homeless serving sector will join with Calgarians from every walk of life to learn and engage and find out how they can make a difference to ending homelessness in our city.

Affordable housing is the key.

That’s the theme of our events and now, more than ever, the reality of that statement drives home the dire circumstances of affordable housing in our city.

Our rental market vacancy rate is less than 1%. A typical two bedroom is over $1250 (and that was before the flood in June). It is not a good situation for anyone looking to rent — and for those on the margins, it’s even tougher. Low rent housing in Calgary is at disastrously low levels.  Where once agencies working with low income and homeless individuals to help them find housing took about 30 days, it now takes over 90 days to find something — if they can find anything at all.

That’s why at 11:30 today we’re gathering at Olympic Plaza where Mayor Naheed Nenshi will be kicking off the event.

Yesterday, as I was pulling together speaking notes to send over to his office, I read through the statements youth had made regarding homelessness. the Youth Sector will be there today handing out lollipops with tags that read:  Homelessness sucks because…

It was the statements they’d written that grabbed my attention and reminded me of why we must do this work, why we must not stop.

Homelessness sucks because…

You got no friends and family

You’re always dirty

People think you’re lazy or just don’t work hard enough to get a home

Nobody cares

It’s a dog eat dog world out there and you just can’t trust nobody.

It ages you real fast.

These are our children. These are someone’s daughter, sister, cousin, friend. Some arrive at the street at the age of 12, running from a life we can’t imagine, even in our worst nightmares.

Some know things I will never know about pain, fear, abuse, horror. Some have experienced things I can not even imagine. Some, are already so broken by life’s tragedies their journey ends before it even begins.

And still, these are our children.

They deserve better.

And we can do better.

Homelessness isn’t a dream come true. It’s a nightmare that won’t end.

It’s a daily drudge of fear and worry and instability. It doesn’t matter how well we treat people experiencing homelessness. The experience of homelessness sucks.

As I read the messages these kids had written on the labels, my heart felt heavy and my mind whirled in a frenzy to understand, to grasp, to make sense of their lives. Why do we keep doing this to our children?  Why do we destroy their lives before they even begin.

Sure, I can say — I didn’t do this _______________________ and name the particular misdeed that a parent somewhere acted upon their child.

But in fact, we did. We are all culpable if only through our silence, our turning a blind eye, our judgements and our criticisms of others. Our unwillingness to get involved, or perhaps simply because we don’t know what to do and so take the path of least resistance — to do nothing.

When kids hit the streets, it’s because they’ve learned, where ever they’re at was not safe. It’s not because they think the street is the only place to be, or that it’s glamorous or fun (though they may imagine that to be true before they hit its dark reality). They hit the streets because somewhere along the road, they didn’t get what they needed to feel safe, to feel secure and loved and wanted and worthy.

Kids hit the streets because they are running from something awful not towards something better.

They don’t find their answers on the street. They find more of what they already had — fear, abuse, fighting, instability, insecurity, drugs, violence, and so many other things not one of us would wish upon our children.

It isn’t until they find caring people in places that care, like the Boys & Girls Club and Avenue 15 and Exit and The Alex and CUPS and a whole host of other agencies who are fighting for the lives of these kids because… well because at this point, no one else is.

Today is Homeless Awareness Day.

We’ll be gathering at 11:30 at Olympic Plaza. If you can’t do anything else today — come and join us. Come and add your voice to the call for affordable housing. Come and find out what you can do to make a difference in ending homelessness in our city.

And to all my co-members of Face it Calgary!, to my amazing co-workers at CHF and the members of CACHH and the hundreds of people working and volunteering  to end homelessness, Thank you! You inspire me.

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Today is also — World Mental Health Day — National Depression Screening Day — and if you haven’t taken the test yet…. do!  It takes less than 5 minutes and taking good care of our mental health is important. It starts with knowing where we’re at. Click this LINK.

So. My plan today was to post an essay by a teen-age girl on her experiences of having their house flooded in June when Calgary’s two rivers ran amuck.

That was the plan but as often happens with plans, things go awry. In this case, technology took my computer on a side-trip to Ugly.

My computer did one of those crashie thingies and while I thought I had everything in order, the one thing still not working properly is the connection I need to get the file with her article in it off of my desktop.

Plan B. I’ll post it tomorrow.

That’s after I write a stickie note to myself to remind myself to get ‘the techie guy’ to give me instructions on how to fix the broken link.

I like stickie notes. I have a stack of them in many colours beside me on my desk. I have pads in drawers all over the house. By the phone. Affixed to the fridge. Everywhere.

They remind me to put the Glucosamine into Ellie’s food. To take my vitamins. To remember my lunch. To buy milk. To not forget the paperwork I need to take with me in the morning.

C.C. loves to remind me to write myself a note and stick it somewhere I won’t miss.

He knows how forgetful I can be.

Perhaps that’s why he’s always leaving me pink stickie heart notes?  🙂

On my pillow. When I open the lid of my laptop. In the fridge.

I find them all over the house, in surprising and not so obvious places.

They make me smile.

Feel warm inside.

Feel all mushie, and Loved.

Sometimes, the note is a simple, “I love you” message.

Sometimes, he writes something else more telling of how he feels about me.

No matter what he writes, his notes warm my heart. They lift my spirits. They make me feel… happy.

Apparently, telling someone you love the things you love about them, or why you love them is not only a surefire way to lift their spirits — it lifts yours too.

In a study for The Science of Happiness — an experiment in gratitude, researchers invited people to share about someone who touched their life and made them feel grateful for their presence. Afterwards, they asked them to write a letter — and then, to read the letter over the phone to that person.

What they found was that happiness rose for everyone — but the people who walked in feeling the most unhappy were the ones who had the greatest percentage increase in their sense of well-being and happiness after the exercise.

So… when you’re feeling blue. Do something to connect you to people who make you feel good about yourself! Show your gratitude and lift your spirits.

Such a simple way to lift yourself out of the doldrums. Such an easy step to take away from darkness into the light.

It makes sense.

When I’m feeling down my head is usually telling me stories about why I am unworthy.

Don’t believe everything you think.

To get out of negative thinking,  take action in the opposite direction.

Enlist gratitude to connect you to the positive.

Yup.

I like it.

Now, what colour of stickie note should I write the reminder on so that I remember to write a note to someone I love.

Wait! I don’t have to remind myself. I just have to do it!

But… I will write myself a stickie note to remember to put Alex’s essay on a shuttle stick so I can post it tomorrow!

**************************************

Give yourself a 7  min spa for the soul — here’s the video from The Science of Happiness.

that’s right. Don’t just write it. Read it aloud.

Holding onto nothing, I have all that I need.

Holding onto nothing, I become all that I am.

These thoughts drifted through my mind this morning as I sat in meditation, my senses drifting into ‘the great perfection’ that is at the core of our human experience.

“Am I a living expression of the highest possibilities I have sensed for the expression of human life?” my meditation master asked into the quiet.

Am I?

It is a loving question. A question to be explored from that place of deep inner gratitude and acceptance. That place where there is no judgement of the answer, only what is.

For me, the answer is always a tapestry of love and gratitude, tinted with mystery and the mystical. It is tinged with shots of reality where I see myself holding back on expressing my higher good through my refusal/inability/resistance to letting go of my adapted behaviours that my mind tells me keep me safe, on solid ground, in control.

It isn’t about feeling bad about who I am, or not, it’s about seeing myself clearly. Accepting myself. All of me, and experiencing my reflections, not as something personal, but as a universal expression of the human experience.

I am the expression of what all of us struggle with, right now. So are you.

We are the expression of the collective humanity we share.

My challenges are your challenges. Your challenges are mine.

And as a species, we are struggling to awaken. To let go. To evolve beyond our collective human struggles that cause us to lay low in the field of despair, to lie and cheat and kill and harm one another. To turn our backs on our collective wisdom and perfection. To deny our beauty.

This is the human challenge. This is the human condition we are all experiencing. It is not just about me. Or you. It is about all of us. And in our willingness to awaken, to rise above our human struggles, we contribute to our evolution. We allow our journey to be ennobled by the recognition that what we are doing, how we are being contributes to the betterment of all humanity, to the evolution of all life.

Holding onto nothing, I become all that I am.

Life is a series of taking in’s and letting go’s. A continual moving out and into breath, each moment, this moment, right now.

The human experience is a continuous unfolding of the evolutionary impulse that began at the heart of perfection 14 billion years ago. It is the unfolding of possibility, of the miracle of life that continues to resonate and evolve with each breath we take, in and out, sharing of what is true for me, taking in of what is true for you. Knowing that in each taking in and letting go, we create, become, something that is other than what we are, right now, unfolding. An endless unfolding of creativity awakening in the flourishing of life.

It is not just my breath, or your breath, that contributes to life. It is all our breaths. All our energy. All our presence.

We do not breathe different air, you and I. We breathe all of the same air. This air that encompasses our planet. As I breathe in, you breathe out and the air becomes filled with your breath becoming my breath, becoming theirs. No matter where we are in the world.

Holding onto nothing, I become all that I am.

And in all that I am, you are all that you are.

We are all connected. Interdependent. Related. Relational.

We are all human, sharing this journey, this planet, this time.

We are all holding on. Letting go. Inhaling. Exhaling. Embracing. Releasing.

And in the yin and yang of all that we hold onto and let go, I find myself gratefully embracing the great perfection of who you are in my being all that I am.

Namaste.

I have shared this video before — and it always pleases my soul. Please give yourself the gift of experiencing Soygal Rinpoche breathing into a poem by Nyoshul Ken Rinpoche set to music written and performed by Richard Page.

And…. tomorrow I’ll be sharing a young woman’s experiences of the Calgary Flood 2013. Do come back to read what the floods had to teach high-school student, Alex, about acceptance, gratitude and love. You will be inspired.

I went to a concert on Friday  night. Both performers are people I know. Both have contributed their time and talent and heart to something I was working on.

The first performer, Amy Bishop, has one of the biggest hearts around. When I was organizing the recording of Stand By Me, at the shelter where I used to work, Amy was one of the first to jump in and say, I’ll stand by you! Along with the other performers who contributed to the recording, Amy gave countless hours, and days, to ensuring the piece was not only an artistic success, but also a worthwhile and inspiring event for everyone involved.

Amy Bishop has heart.

She’s also very funny and very personable. She tells jokes on herself. Gives her audience intimate little glimpses into her spirit and shares the background on songs she’s written – with humour and humility. .

During her segment of the evening, a cellphone went off. She was in the middle of a quiet, reflective song and those of us in the vicinity of the ringing cell phone were madly digging around to see if it was ours — even though I knew I’d turned my phone off before the concert, I still felt compelled to check!  My girlfriend and I were sitting in the second row, centre stage so we could see Amy’s reaction as she sang this sad and plaintiff song with a cell phone ring chirpily chiming in.

Wouldn’t you know it! Her partner, who was sitting in front of us, dug around and then sheepishly dug out the guilty phone. It was Amy’s.

Amy had known it all along. But it didn’t stop her. She kept focused and before starting into her next song, laughingly confessed to the audience that the ringing offender was hers. “I have to take pills at 8pm,” her partner told me. And Amy, wanting to ensure neither of them forgot, set her alarm.

The very last song she performed was Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah. As a special treat, Oscar Lopez, the main act of the evening, came and performed it with her. It was incredible. Amy’s voice is powerful — and adding Oscar’s spanish guitar and voice to the mix was pure inspiration. To hear them sing together, to watch their interaction, you would have thought they’d been friends forever.

Not so.

They met two weeks ago when Amy’s producer asked Oscar if he’d come into the studio and share his talents with  Amy while she recorded a Christmas CD. Oscar didn’t hesitate. He jumped at the opportunity to help out a fellow musician.

Oscar Lopez has heart.

I met Oscar Lopez many years ago when I was volunteering with an agency that worked with street teens. I had written a play with the teens and was producing a concert where they were going to present their 20 minute production as part of the show.  Oscar Lopez was one of the performers who graciously volunteered their time and talents to the endeavour. Along with James Keelaghan, Oscar kept the music flowing with his amazing guitar playing and songs. He was funny, humble and inclusive. For the teens, he was an inspiration, sharing his stories of being down and out, inviting them to sing along with him, talking to them as ‘human beings’, something many of them had not experienced a lot of in their short lives.

During the course of the evening on Friday, Oscar told the crowd about his mental health issues that had landed him in hospital a while ago. He wasn’t going to hide the fact that mental health issues played a role in his life, he told us. He wasn’t going to let it drag him down.

Oscar Lopez is a gracious and caring man. He’s also high-energy and I love his music. Am in awe with how his fingers fly across the guitar strings, pulling sounds and rhythms out of the instrument like no one I’ve ever heard.

I also like the fact that he was courageous enough to stand in front of the crowd and speak of the taboo of mental health. And while I found his concert chaotic and at times discordant, his music shone. And his music is the reflection of his heart and soul. His music speaks like nothing else.

As my daughter, Alexis, wrote in a post last week entitled after she’d gone to a concert with Michael Franti and Michael Bernard Fitzgerald, Chocolate and Unicorns …

is there magic in the music? A rhythm that calls us to discover something beautiful within us that we wouldn’t have otherwise known?

Whatever it is…whatever power that exists in the sharing of our songs, I believe without a shadow of a doubt that it’s the only language we have that’s capable of transforming our world.

Perhaps it is that through music we know we make a difference in the world, because through music, when we allow our inner song to be heard, we connect to eachother, heart to heart.

Thank you Amy and Oscar for creating a world of harmony. Thank you for singing the songs of your heart so we could all hear our hearts calling us to see, and hear and feel and know the wonder all around.

And…. to show you what is possible when we connect through song, here is the video of Stand Be Me we created with clients and volunteers at the Calgary Drop-In & Rehab Centre. 

The online definition of Desire is:

de·sire

For a year and a half, before I did anything else in the morning, I would write my Miracle Practice list and send it off to the two friends in my circle. And every morning, they would do the same. We were consistent, committed, connected.

And it worked.

In making space for the irritants, in letting them flow instead of stopping them up behind a wall of denial, miracles shimmered all around.

These were no small miracles. They were the big ones. Like forgiveness and gratitude. Acceptance and Love.

For me, one of the biggest ones centered around my feelings of betrayal that kept surfacing when I thought about a situation I’d left earlier that year. The story I told myself about what had happened held me in a victim’s place. It kept me stuck in hurt, sadness, confusion and it kept me me from being accountable for my own experience.

Yes.  Things happened that did not sit well with me. And yes, it didn’t go the way I wanted — but it did go the way I allowed. Because regardless of what I judged others to be doing that was in my opinion mis-guided, manipulative, small, I was not playing my big story. I was not acting up to my higher good. I was giving in to my fears and ego. I was letting myself off the hook of being 100% accountable for my experience.

That was the gift of the Miracle Practice. In writing out my angst with the opening line, “I am grateful today for….”, in being honest with my victim’s voice, I moved through the dismay and pain and the story I kept telling about how I was ‘wronged’ to that place where acceptance shone loud and clear — it wasn’t about me. It wasn’t a personal statement of my worth. And today, it was, and always will be, what it is. The past.

And I get to tell the story of my past. And most importantly, I get to decide how it impacts me today.

I used to have a story around my birth that held me in a place of feeling ‘unwanted’. As the story goes, my father lost a case of beer and $20 because I was a girl. My mother wanted me born on Dec 8 not Dec 9 — because the 8th is the Day of the Immaculate Conception and I was a real disappointment being born 2 minutes after midnight.

That story got me lots of laughs, but it also caused me pain. Inside. Deep inside where no one could see it except me. I could feel it. And while I could feel the sadness inside, I couldn’t see how the emotional triggers of that story kept sparking off my belief in my unworthiness and deep, deep belief that I was always a disappointment to my parents – and thus to the world.

And then, one day (I actually did this exercise sitting by a lake on a beautiful spring day, long before I read Melody Beattie’s book Make Miracles in Forty Days) I decided to write my gratitude statement around that story.

I am grateful today for the story I keep telling around what a disappointment I am in the world. It hurts and bothers me that I feel deep within me this sense of sadness. It’s funny though. I’m the one carrying this story. I’m the one telling it, which means, I’m the one letting it eat away at my peace of mind. What if I change the story? What if I let go of the emotional triggers. What if the story is true — but it doesn’t mean any of the things I tell myself it means. Maybe my dad really did want another son but in getting me, he fell in love with the little girl who made him laugh and smile and who wanted to be the sunshine. maybe my mom really did want me to born on the Day of the Immaculate Conception — but in the end it didn’t matter because I was born when I was born. And maybe, whether the story is true or not, what is true is that I am loved. I am cherished. I am wanted on this journey. Maybe, I’m the one holding myself pinnioned to the pain of the past in the telling of that story. maybe, I am the one investing the story with what hurts me, instead of what supports and loves and lifts me up. Maybe, the story doesn’t matter — it is kind of funny — and maybe, what does matter is that I want me. I need me. I cherish and love and support and know that my life is a miracle because I am a miracle of life.

And here’s the deal, in telling the story as it is, in accepting it as simply that — a story I tell on myself — the pain lifted and I could feel the miracle of who I am in the world infusing my heart with warm, tender loving care.

In falling into gratitude with my discord around this story, I got to quit being afraid of who I am, as well as the underlying sorrow the story evoked.

I began to feel at peace within me.

It was a miracle.

And still is.

everyday.

this place of knowing, wow, my life and who I am in it is all that I am meant to be when I accept and love all of me and everything in my world. When I move with gratitude through the ups and the downs, the good and the not so good, the big and the small happenings, the things that hold me back from living the life of my dreams…. evaporate… into the limitless possibility of what can happen when I set myself free to soar through all kinds of weather.

Namaste.