There’s A New Year A Comin’!
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From Where I Sit…
It was a lovely Christmas. Though…. the weather-casters call the weather, extreme cold (which it is) I still call it the most wonderful time of the year..
Though even Beaumont the Sheepadoodle has his limits and at -31C (-24F) (with windchill -38C – 36C) he is not as keen on staying out too long as normal — but he’s also not keen on not going out either!
So we compromise
I drive him to the park rather than walk. We do one short off-leash walk (max 15 min) I try to throw the ball as much as possible but it keeps freezing to the chucker cup and won’t release! Sometimes, in my vehement throw, I release the whole chucker and it goes flying — it’s quite the sight and quite confusing to Beau!
But, if I remove the temperature from the equation, it’s very beautiful. Bare-branched trees laced with hoar frost. Sun glistening off the snow. Mist rising from the river. The halo mist of my breath around my face. The crunch of snow beneath my boots. Beau’s breath drifting behind him as he runs across a wide-open field. And the silence.
So much silence in winter’s Arctic grasp.
So much silence and stillness. No birds sing or flit amongst the naked trees. No squireels scamper across the snow-laden meadow. No other dogs and walkers.
Though earlier, as Beau and I traipsed across the open meadow, a man and woman jogged past with their dog. They were not bundled up in parkas, just running gear and balaclavas. With a cheery “Merry Christmas” and a wave of their hand, they kept going. Way too cold to stop for a visit. And later, as I drove along a snow-covered road, a man rode by on his bicycle, his body like a giant blimp as he pedaled furiously to keep moving through the cold and snow.
To live in this place, you must be prepared for the weather.
I am grateful for Beaumont’s insistence we get out for a walk at least twice a day. I might not leave the house until spring if he didn’t!
I hope you had as beautiful and joyful Christmas/holiday season as we did. Family. Friends. Laughter. Fun. Good food. Wine. and great company.
We stuck to the rules of gathering under Dovid’s mane, and still had a wonderful time! As my daughter said, it’s been a while since we’ve been able to gather at all. What a joy!
I got to decorate the table. Make name tags (tiny string Christmas tres) and use duct tape and a cardboard insert from a paper towel ring to make serviette holders to go with my salt dough angels, and set the table all pretty and sparkly so that we could gather together to share that special space of family and friendship!
My kind of holiday celebration.
I hope yours was as joyful and full of love!
Namaste.
Time Flows Like Water
Ice forms long slippering islands around the bridge abutments that stand silent and strong in the middle of the river as cars pass over its surface above, heading towards the city centre. Winter’s first blanket of snow has arrived, turning the world pristine white beneath its embrace.
I sit and watch the river flow. Candlelight glowing in the still darkness of morning not yet broken.
It is a week until Christmas Day and the world holds its collective breath, waiting for news to unfold about the latest tentacles of this virus that is holding us captive to its advancements.
I have not yet started my Christmas dinner prep. Place cards. Table centrepiece. Festive boughs. All the ‘beauty fixins’ that will greet our guests and say, “You are so welcome here.”
We will be a smaller than normal crowd. There is less safety in numbers so we adjust, adapt, accept the dictates of these strange times.
And still…
I wait.
Hoping.
Wishing.
Wanting.
To gather. To be together.
To be safe.
I wait. Hesitant.
I want to safeguard my hopes. Protect my spirit from disappointment.
Christmas is one week away. The world awaits good tidings and joy.
Perhaps, rather than waiting I shall step into festive preparation believing in its possibilities, knowing that in the creating, my spirits will be lifted, and in the glow of creative expression and anticipation, I will be safe from disappointment.
Morning has not yet broken through night’s darkness.
Time flows like the river.
Hope rises in the promise of morning light soon to awaken and I awaken from my lethargy as dawn breaks through the looming darkness.
Namaste
Men In Tights
Beaumont the Sheepadoodle has much to say about Grey Cup Sunday. And, as I’m still away, I’m reposting our conversation from Grey Cup Sunday two years ago.
I know… how dare I! 🙂
Apparently, according to Beaumont, it’s the least I can do!
To read the conversation, click HERE
He says Thank-you for coming over to visit! At least somebody cares… sigh… I think that’s another jibe at me!
Beaumont: Don’t think it! Know it! Because of course it is! You’re still away visiting The Littles and I’m still here staring out the window, pining for you, waiting for your return… I sure hope you bring me back something nice!
Beaumont: So, what is it with you humans and having to watch men in tights?
Me: Don’t you mean Men in Black?
Beau: No. That’s a movie. I’m talkin’ about those guys in tights who chase a pig skin.
Me: Oh you mean football. And it’s one word btw. Pigskin.
Beau: Whatever. I must admit though, I do not understand why they’d chase a pig skin and not a pig. Now that would be way more fun!
CLICK HERE to read the rest.
The Trip of Mis-Matched Names
I am sitting at Calgary Airport waiting to board a flight to Vancouver which last night, I was not so sure I’d be able to get on.
All because my Alberta Health Card (hence my vaccination QR code card) has my first two names backwards.
The computer masterminding their online system doesn’t like anomalies so booted me out.
An hour later, I got off the phone with Westjet without any resolution. The attendant on the phone was very nice and as helpful as she could be, but there was nothing she could do.
“I’m sorry,” she said after searching yet another file for a solution. “You’ll just have to go to the airport and hope they let you through.”
Which they did. The check-in agent was amazingly helpful and reassuring. “It’s okay,” he said. “You’ve got a printed QR code for me to verify it’s really you! No problem.”
And it was done.
So now, I sit with my latte in a still quiet airport with an hour and a half to kill.
Much better than having to turn around and go home and try to get it fixed with Alberta Health. Have you ever tried calling their offices?
Yeah. I’ll take Westjet any day.
But then…. I’m going to have to go through the same rigamarole coming back. On second thought… maybe I will attempt to enter the lair of the AB Health phone system!
Beau’s Guide To Happiness In Life
As many who follow me here know, Beaumont the Sheepadoodle writes a blog, Sundays with Beaumont — okay, paws his way through writing a blog every Sunday.
I know. I know. He can’t really type but as his human conduit to expressing his wisdom and wit (some might call it sarcasm), I do the typing and divining for him.
Yesterday, he shared his list of 10 Things hoomans can do that will really make life better for everyone (not just your four-legged companions!
And while some have already read it, I thought it worth sharing here as well — ’cause not only does his list inspire me to create better and do not harm, it reminds me to savour the people and moments that bring my life so much joy.
I hope it does the same for you too.
1. Get moving!
Get outside. Get into nature. Go for a walk. Garden. Run. Play in the snow. The river. The mud. And don’t forget to take me with you. I like being outdoors. There’s so much out there to explore and it’s just good dawginess to share it!
2. Stop and smell the roses.
Breathe. Smell the air. Heck, smell my fur, even when it’s wet. Bury your face in the sweet, juicy aromas of life. Sure, it can be messy and prickly. But it’s always beautiful and fruitful and full of sweet smells and reminders of how wonderful it is to be alive. Remember, you gotta BREATHE it all in.
3. Show, act, feel, be Love.
Pet me. Rub my belly. Fuss over me. I’m a dawg. That’s what I need and it’s what you need too! Love all over me and know, no matter what, love really is the answer. Try it with the people in your life too. It really works. Why do you think I do it with you?
4. Fill the whole canvas of your life.
Sit. Sprawl. Laze about. Let yourself sink into nothing but the pure joy of doing nothing. Block doorways. Lay in the middle of the room. Take up all the space you need to get comfortable. It’s your life. Your space. Fill it and do it often. Life looks better when you’re stretched out filling the whole canvas of your life.
5. Chase your dreams (and butterflies too).
Chase butterflies. Dragonflies, even bumblebees. You don’t have to catch them. The joy is in the running about, chasing after nature, and feeling the wind against your skin, or fur if you’re me.
6. Let your sillies out.
Dance in the rain. Run barefoot in the grass. Don’t be shy. Don’t tell yourself you’re too old or too proper or too whatever. You’re never ‘too anything’ (grey-haired, no-haired, young, tall, short…) to act silly and free. Kick your shoes off and feel the earth — I’ve never understood why people, and horses for that matter, wear shoes. They’re so distracting.
7. Set yourself free of your secret hurts and pains.
Talk to yourself – which is like… talking to me. Tell yourself all your sorrows, your secrets, your fears, your dreams. It’s okay. No one else can hear you except me and I will always listen and never judge and never tell another soul. Your secrets are mine to keep. Though if you tell them to me I might just chew on them and sit them out… know what I mean? 🙂
8. Let your happy shine, where ever you go!
Greet everyone you meet, even strangers and that barista with the tattoos and piercings and dog collar around their neck, with a big happy smile. And btw, I don’t understand why people wear dog collars. They’re for dogs, people, because we’re special. But I digress. Greet people like you’re really, really happy to see them. Try some wiggles and squirms, lick them even! Or, as you humans like to do, give them a peck on the cheek, but really, really mean it! Be happy to see them. Let your happy shine, where ever you go! Heaven knows, the world needs more wriggles and squirms and happy greetings. And by the way, so do you.
9. Savour every morsel of life (and whatever else is on your plate)
Always, always, clean your plate. Yup. I know. Your parents told you this. Difference is, what you don’t eat, you can give to me, I’m not picky and will eat anything you don’t, and then some! (and that’s how you clean your plate while also savouring every morsel of life) Oh. And no artichokes puhleease. I don’t like the prickles. Which brings me to my final point;
10. Follow your heart (and let me be your guide).
Only consume, buy, eat, do, speak, think, create, the things that create more joy, laughter, love and caring in your life. Be picky! Don’t settle for something just because it’s there. Make your own choices. Make your own path. Make your own waves. Remember, I chose you and you’re the bestest friend a dawg could ever have, which is saying a lot for someone who is not a dawg (that would be you). And you truly are great, especially when you remember to follow your heart. Oh, and let me be your guide.
“And don’t forget to count your blessings every day!” writes Beau, “And make sure you put me at the top of your list! ‘Cause we dawgs are true blessings in your life!”
The Promise He Could Not Keep
The Promise He Could Not Keep by Louise Gallagher It’s off to war with you my boy his father said while his mother wrung her hands and cried a silent tear. It’s the right thing to do, to defend your country and your fellow man. And his father slapped him on his back and his mother waved her white handkerchief and they both sent him on his journey to war torn lands far away, with the promise to come home safe ringing in his ears. And the boy, who was not yet a man stood his ground against enemy guns and held his own with pride as he fought with boys just like him as boys just like him fought back intent on gaining the ground he’d just taken until he could stand no more against the bullets flying and tanks rolling across the land so far away from home. And he fell. Silently. Slipping away from the guns that would not stop amidst the cries of the fallen lying on the blood-red ground. And he fell. Silently. Holding fast to the memory of his father’s hand against his back and his mother’s white handkerchief bidding him farewell. He held fast. Until he could not hold on any more to the memories of the one’s he left behind. And as his last breath escaped his body and the guns were silenced in the finality of death he let go of holding on to the promise he could not keep amidst the brutality of war. And when the medal arrived, posthumously, in the mail, and his mother opened the velvet box, she cried and fell to the ground. And his father gently took her arm and helped her stand and said, It was the right thing to do, as he dabbed her tears dry with her white handkerchief. His medal still sits in its velvet box unopened beside the photo of her son who never came home. She cannot bear the weight of its memory of the boy who went off to war to become a man and could not keep his promise.
Some Mornings…
Some mornings take my breath away.
One moment I’m immersed in typing, head down, fingers flying across the keyboard, always pushing with just a bit more force on the ‘e’ which has started sticking. Lost in thought and words appearing as I type, I look up without looking, fingers still flying and then, it captures me.
The view outside my window. The world bathed in golden autumn light. Not red. Not yellow. Not orange. An indescribable gold kissed rose that wafts and floats through the trees like a ghost on All Hallows Eve drifting through candle-lit gravestones shimmering in the light of a full moon glowing bright.
My fingers stop moving. My mind stills. I jump up, run to the deck door, fling it open as I call out to C.C. to wake-up and, “Come see!”
There is beauty in everything.
Mystery everywhere.
And always miracles.
Because, the miracle this morning is that in that one looking up moment, I caught sight of morning light in its full intensity, it’s full unfolding.
I would have missed it had I not lifted my head to consider the thought that had just entered my mind as I was typing an email to the CEO of the organization with which I’m working. I was considering the thought, ‘how do I phrase this?’ when I lifted my eyes without really seeing the world beyond, only to be awoken by its beauty.
How many times does this happen?
How many instances of beauty are missed because we’re so immersed in the doing of what needs to get done rather than the being with all that is present?
There is so much beauty in this world. So many miracles unfolding right before our eyes.
Today, I awoke and found myself embodied in nature’s sunrise, awash in life’s glorious beauty bathing the sky in autumn’s glow.
What a beautiful awakening!
Happy Turkey Day!
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The Marathon Runner
When my mother was alive we counted her birthdays by her number of years on earth.
Yesterday, for my sisters and daughters and I, her 99th birthday was marked with the number 2. It was her second birthday since leaving this earth February 25th, 2020. She was 97.
When she was born in 1922 in India, the average life expectancy in her land of birth was around 25 years of age (I should mention that was for the average Indian who did not live as privileged and protected a life as my mother and her siblings and cousins, the majority of whom have all lived beyond the age of 80, Of my mother’s 9 siblings, 3 continue to grace us with their presence).
When my mother arrived in Canada in 1946, life expectancy was around 60 years of age. As in so many things she did, my mother defied the odds.
One day last week, before I headed off to the mountains to play ‘Chef’ at Mt Engadine Lodge, I met a man jogging through the park while I was walking with Beaumont the Sheepadoodle.
He stopped to admire Beau and told me he and his wife were dog-sitting his son’s Labradoodle. “They’re such great dogs,” he said.
I agreed and then asked him about the running shirt he was wearing. It had a photo of a city skyline imprinted on it and the word, in big bold letters, BOSTON, printed beneath the skyline.
“Did you run the Boston Marathon?” I asked.
He smiled, touched the shirt with one hand against his chest and said, proudly, “Fifteen times.”
“Wow!” was about all I could respond.
And then he went on to extoll the virtues of staying fit, of having a hobby, of being engaged with life.
That man’s name is Gerry Miller. “You can connect with me via social media,” he told me as he prepared to start jogging again (he was on kilometer 15 of his 32 km training run). “I’m pretty well known in jogging circles and in the elder community.”
When I got home I looked him up.
Well known? How about renowned.
At 85 years of age, Gerry is the number 1 ranked over 80 marathon runner in the world (an activity he took up at the age of 58 at his son’s urging). He holds 3 gold medals and 2 silver medals in his age category and, at the time of our chat, was preparing to run the London Marathon this October — as long as they let me into the country, he told me with a big smile.
In our brief encounter Gerry reminded me of the value of ‘attitude’.
His was infectious. Exuberant. Invigorating.
So much so, I wanted to drag my running shoes out from the back of the closet and hit the trails again. But not before first googling the question, “Does running with severe arthritis in my feet make it worse?”
Sigh. The fact is, any impact sport will negatively impact arthritis.
Time to formulate Plan B.
Time to augment my daily walking with biking, swimming and weights (gently of course 🙂 ).
My mother was 97 when she left this earth. Never a particularly active woman, arthritis ate away at her body strength and agility with every passing year and though her mind stayed alert, she lived with excruciating pain. She seldom complained about the pain. She did complain about what she perceived as God’s Plan.
Often, in her final years she would ask, “Why doesn’t God take me?”
And I would reply, “Because he’s not ready for you yet.”
“I’m ready,” she would respond.
My mother left this earth ready to go. She’d been preparing for her departure for years.
I don’t know when I will leave this earth (none of us do) but I do know, I want to spend each day with an attitude like Gerry’s. Active. Engaged. Eager to take on new challenges. Excited about the next opportunity. Looking forward to the next kilometer or adventure.
Aging is not a death sentence. It is an integral part of living, as natural as breathing. We can’t avoid getting older. We can avoid getting old — in our thinking, our way of living, our attitude and our outlook.
And to do that, we must keep moving, doing and being excited about life.
Dare Boldly 