This could become a habit. Read Hopeful Notes from Howie J and let his inspiration ignite my thinking to inspire my writing.

See, here’s the thing about my morning write. I do not generally come to the blank screen with a pre-conceived idea of what is going to fill the page. In fact, sometimes, I’ll be clearer on what I’m not going to write about than what I am going to write about — which always makes me smile when the ‘not’ turns into the very subject I’ve been resisting writing about.

Howie J calls it, “The Resistance Habit”. Our human tendency to resist anything that we perceive as uncomfortable, hard or irritating. Like paying bills, emptying the dishwasher, picking up the phone and calling that person you’ve been avoiding…

Avoidance strengthens fear.

Seriously. It’s true. When we avoid doing something we know we need to do, the little reptilian part of our brain says, “Whew! That avoidance feels good. Let’s do it again!” And so, when we go to do it, that little reptile guy says, “Oh no! Remember that feeling of relief you felt last time when you didn’t do that? It felt better not to do than to do so let’s feel better again. Let’s not do it!”

And being the path of least resistance beings that we are, (sometimes we even tell ourselves our survival depends upon it) we don’t do it. And the neural pathways of ‘not doing’ grow stronger. In fact, the brain secretes a chemical that actually re-enforces the feelings of ‘that felt good to not do’ thus intensifying our resistance and fear of doing!

Honest. It’s scientifically proven. Avoidance strengthens fear. And all our thinking in the world, won’t change our fear of doing what we fear. We must take action.

As the amazing Jodi Aman says in her blogpost, The Evolutionary Roots of Fear, we cannot think our way out of fear. We can act our way out of it though.

Which begs the question, Why don’t I just act out against fear instead of acting out — because I know acting out through avoidance also increases stress in my life!

Which always leads me to running around, making excuses, feeling less than, feeling harried as I run around, faster and faster, trying to catch balls dropping everywhere.

I am learning.

To avoid fear I must do the things I fear doing.

Otherwise, I’m thinking about what I fear more than what I’m doing — and living without being conscious of my doing is unhealthy for me.

Like most of us, I fear change. Yet, as a boss of mine long ago used to say, “Change is here to stay.”

I’m in this game of life for the long run. May as well embrace change and give up fearing it.

Or at least acknowledge my fear of change creates ripples of unease in my world when I let it lead me into avoiding doing the things I know I need to do to live this one wild and precious life in the rapture of now.

Like the small things of everyday living. When I avoid doing them, they become larger things on my horizon. My excuses grow and I become mired in the muddy waters of all my thinking telling me “I should”, I would if…, I can’t. I don’t have time. I don’t have the energy. I don’t….

If avoidance strengthens fear — Taking action strengthens my integrity.

Letting go of  my excuses, I breathe into my power to create more of what I want in my life. And in that place of possibility, skies clear and I become clearer on living up to my higher good, acting out from my highest intention, not my fears.

Taking action makes my dreams grow.

I get it. To weaken my Resistance Habit, I need to strengthen my capacity to take action by letting courage draw me out of my fears.

Cool. To live my dreams I must underfeed my fears through inviting courage to engage my body, mind and spirit in the action of living my dreams!

I like that circle of possibility!

Here’s to living today free of avoidance rising into fear.

Here’s to living my dreams!

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And in the spirit of taking action — check out my daily cleanse — I’m posting photos everyday of the things I’m clearing out of my home — KISS my life.

AND

I’m writing a poem a day to stretch my creative muscle. I’m also taking a photo a day on my iPhone to inspire my creativity and posting it on, The Poetry Affair.

I read a quote this morning at my friend Howard Parson’s blog, Hopeful Notes From Howie J, that pierced my heart.

Many people are alive but don’t touch the miracle of being alive.” ~Thich Nhat Hanh

 I read a blog this morning that brought tears — tears of sadness, of sorrow, of hope.

It was written by my daughter Alexis, a young woman of great heart and soul who lives life in the key of grace. On January 1, Alexis started a blog (The Wunder Year)  where everyday she shares about wearing her “Wunder Unders”, those stretchy, lycra leggings from Lululemon that are the fashion statement of an army of yoga-posing women. And, while Alexis is using her Wunder Unders to make a point to her psyche about her need to spend less, live more, she is also teaching me about the power of our hearts to feel, to heal and to grow in their capacity to live this miracle of life on the other side of our pain.

Alexis is 26.

I remember me at that age. I remember wanting to hide, to run, to avoid what was going on in my internal world by posing as all together in the external spaces I filled. I didn’t want people to see how broken I felt inside. How afraid. I only wanted them to see how together I was on the outside.

And I was, together. And I was also lost.

It took me a lot of years, and tears and soul searching (not to mention a lot of therapy) and some big experiences  that almost cost me my life to get the message — living in the key of grace means dropping the masks and lovingly leaving the past behind.

Alexis gets it.

And it is in her getting it, it is in both my daughters getting it, that I am humbled and filled with awe.

I have achieved what I set out to do. To be the mother I always wanted. To inspire my children to live beyond the edge of their fears in that place where they are awakened to the miracles unfolding with every breath — no matter their condition.

I am blessed.

My awareness today of my many blessings is perhaps more poignant as I consider the loss of my dear friends whose son was fatally stabbed this weekend. Like my daughters, their son was fired up with the possibilities of life. He had dreams and he was taking action on making his dreams come true.

And now, his dreams have ended at what police have identified as the hands of a 19 year old man and a 17 year old girl.

And I want to cry out, what are we doing to our children? How have we so failed them that they could do such a thing?

It is the tragedy of our times. We love our children into being and then we lose sight of our collective responsibility in creating a world that they can live in without fear, without anger, without believing that the only way to make sense of their life is to take the life of another.

These are our children.

All of them.

And we have failed them.

It is time for us to wake-up.

None of us can undo time. None of us can turn back what happened.

But we can change what happens now. What we do next.

We can re-direct our energy. We can stand in the broken and heal.

We can. I believe that whole-heartedly, but, as my daughter writes so powerfully this morning, ” it is our disconnection that brought us here in the first place.”

To heal our world we must connect to what causes us pain. To what makes us angry. To what makes us feel scared. We must face, head-on, what is undermining our belief in the miracle and sacredness of life.

My daughter is doing this everyday. She’s not just living her life in leggings for a year. She’s stretching herself to face an eating disorder that almost cost her life. And in that stretch, she is claiming life.

She is stating, I choose to live, in all my messed up, upside down and inside out Wunder Unders this one and only precious life.

I am proud of my daughters. Proud and humbled and hopeful.

Hopeful that perhaps we can stop this bleeding of our humanity, this tearing away of our children from the loving arms of their mothers, this breaking down of our families that were to have been their safe haven.

I am hopeful. And I am frightened. Will we do it? Will we choose to face the anger and the pain and the ineffable agony we are causing our children in turning our backs on the sacred trust we enacted when we became their parents?

Will we? Or by our inaction, will we risk losing another life to the hands of a child who believes their worth is to be found in striking out with a knife that pierces our collective hearts?

I cried when I heard the news on Saturday. I cried and my heart was heavy.

On Sunday, I cried again when I told my daughter and her tears flowed as she heard of the loss a family we love dearly has experienced. A loss so incomprehensible.  A loss like no other. Their child, a son, brother, nephew, cousin, friend has died. His life ended by the hands of another.

And my heart is heavy.

Just as it has felt the heaviness and the sadness that comes with trying to make sense of the insensible acts of violence we commit every day, somewhere in the world. Those acts that speak of our fear, our blindness, our unwillingness to let go of anger, hatred, racism, sexism, and a host of other characteristics that drive us away from the magnificence of our human condition. Lost to one another, we kill in the name of political right, racial cleansing, religious fervour, or simply a desire to exert dominion over another.

And the words of a song that was the anthem of a generation of anti-war activists and peace-makers drifts into my mind. Pete Seeger’s poem to the futility of war and our human cycle of waging it. “Where have all the flowers gone?” And in response, he asks, “When will they ever learn?”

When will we ever learn? That guns and knives and weapons of all making kill when a human hand pulls the trigger or strikes out.

When will we ever learn?

And my heart is heavy.

As I settled into meditation this morning sadness washed over me, enveloped me. I wanted to push it back, to send it away, to not let it enter. I wanted to not know it and knew I must. I knew I must give it space, give it room to flow. Rather than push it away, I chose instead to sit within it. To let the sadness become me. To feel each droplet of sorrow coursing through my body. I chose to feel it, know it, embrace it. Not just for me, or this family I love, but for all of us, for our humanity lost in the mire of a cycle of violence that wants to keep perpetrating more violence.

We must stop it. And to stop it, we must feel it. We must quit numbing ourselves out, stop kidding ourselves that tougher laws, or the death penalty or whatever justice we deem necessary will stop us from hurting, or killing one another.

Laws don’t stop the killing.

We do. We the people of this planet earth. We, the one’s who hold the guns and knives, who trample over human rights and lives in our endless grasping for more. More land, more drugs, more possessions, more space to claim as our own.

It is the choices we make that make war happen.

We have the power to choose differently. We have the power to act out in peace, in compassion, in love for one another.

We have the power to speak words, commit actions, take steps away from the precipice of anger, and hatred. We have the power to back away from the edge of despising another because of the colour of their skin, or where they kneel to pray or the god they worship or the space they fill that we want.

We the people have the power to change the world.

Let us stop carrying flowers to the graves of the one’s we love. Let us instead hear the call of our human condition calling out the answer to the question, “When will they ever learn?”. Let us answer with the only word that fills our world with hope for a future where our sons and daughters can live without fear of one another, where we their  parents can send them out into the world without worrying about when they will come home. Let us answer, “Now.”

My heart is heavy this morning. I can feel it. But I cannot give way to this sadness, this despair, this hopelessness that wants to envelop me and keep me from speaking out against violence, war, hatred. I will not. For I know that to make peace happen, I must actively engage in becoming the peace I want to see in the world. We must all do whatever we can, whatever is possible to put down our arms of destruction and hold out arms of compassion. And in each act of compassion, may flowers grow on the battlefields, may young girls walk safely amongst the blossoms and may young men come home to where the answer is no longer, “blowin’ in the wind”, as we used to sing in answer to the question, Where have all the flowers gone?

Let us embrace the answer that is here, in our hearts, in our human condition holding out hands filled with all that we need to love one another without fearing the answer to “When will we ever learn?” is never.

Saturday. A day to relax. To get chores done. To make lists. To cross things off. To paint. Create. To do whatever my heart desires — like bring my laptop back to bed and stay in my pjs until whenever I feel like not being in my pjs anymore!

And, it’s a day to celebrate heroes.

I wouldn’t be able to bring my laptop to bed if it weren’t for those clever folk who thought up the idea of ‘wireless’. You’re all heroes in my book!

This week I met with a friend for whom homelessness was a reality for many years. He had moved on and is now transitioning through it again. His upbeat attitude, his focus on what he needs to do to reclaim his life beyond the shelter is inspiring.

RK is a hero.

In the checkout line at the grocery store last night, the man in front of me paid the $2.37 the little old lady in front of him didn’t have to make her whole purchase. There is something very sweet and touching and inspiring, about watching an octogenarian count her pennies and then have a perfect stranger make up the difference.

That man and woman and the cashier who so patiently waited never losing her smile are heroes.

Ok. So… as I write this Marley the Great Cat is in the hallway batting around one of his toys. I think. I don’t want to check if it’s really a toy or something more…. lively… Marley never meows and right now he’s meowing.  Pause.  I’m back and this time I’m going to give myself a ‘hero credit’ because I actually did get up to check what Marley was toying with… and it really was… just a toy. Yeah!

I can be a hero even when I think it involves a mouse!  (In actuality, Marley the Great Cat is the hero because he keeps our home rodent free!)

I had a chat with the President of a community association here in Calgary last week. His community has graciously welcomed in a social services facility for many years and is currently feeling overwhelmed by changes happening to the facility. He shared their concerns, we chatted and found the common ground to foster strong relationships.

Community Association Presidents and Boards who volunteer their time to represent their communities while also making room for the ‘greater good’ are heroes.

And of course, after the amazing workshop I experienced yesterday, the Framework Institute, the Norlein Foundation who along with the United Way of Calgary & Area are championing vital social change in our city are all heroes. They are building the grid for not-for-profits to energize their work by making it possible for everyone to plug into the greatness of our city!

Framework Institute, Norlein Foundation and United Way of Calgary & Area are all heroes.

And… as I do every Saturday, I like to share an inspiring video/idea/concept I’ve found on the web. This RSA Animates talk on shifting the education paradigms by Sir Ken Robinson will wake up your mind to new ideas, and a new way of thinking about education.  Plus, I just really like the RSA format — do check out their many presentations. They’re quite brilliant!

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And today’s everyday poem at A Poetry Affair — A Bowl Full of Hungering.

I got charged up yesterday. All excited. Ignited. Plugged in.

And yup. Those are all words that connect to ‘the grid’. That suggest the analogy of some sort of power source charging me up.

Apparently, here in Alberta we like phrases that denote grids. We’re not enamored with words like prosperity, or reciprocity, but we’re keen on opportunity, progress, interconnectedness.

Who knew?

Well, it may not come as a surprise to social scientists, but there are people who know this stuff. Who research it and then share it with, as in the case of the all-day workshop I attended yesterday at the behest of the United Way of Calgary and Area, not-for-profits looking to affect social change through the expansion of the opportunity grid that makes it possible for every Calgarian to thrive.

Last year I was invited to sit on the United Way’s communication advisory group. It was my acceptance of that invitation that lead me to being at the meeting  yesterday.

And I am so excited!

Dr.s Julie Sweetland, Eric Lindland and Alexis Celeste Burten of The Framework Institute lead us on a whirlwind tour of social anthropology, linguistics and research, showing us how the words we use can connect or disengage people from believing change is possible — Change needs to happen here, can happen here, is happening here.

Did I mention it was fascinating?

Their rigorous testing of concepts, analogies, words and phrases provides not-for-profits a framework to move from the ‘symptomatic’ space of individualistic problem-making and problem-solving to the more expansive zone of thematic re-framing of issues to be inclusive of all society — working together we can create solutions for all communities to thrive.

The issues we are dealing with are big. Moving them from the ‘me’ space to the ‘we’ means helping people understand that these are collective public problems which, working together, have a public solution.

I learned a lot yesterday. My mind is still crammed full of ideas, thoughts, concepts. “If you don’t re-frame the story, it comes to you pre-framed, ” said all three presenters throughout the day.

Makes sense.

We all have our backstory. Our criteria words that are framed in the social anthropological roots of our past experiences, environment, and encounters. I like the word ‘awesome’. My friend TB prefers ‘wonderful’. Awesome makes her think of circus clowns and ferris wheels. It makes me think of limitless possibilities, the sky, the divine essence of our existence.

Cultures, communities, people have the same preferences. And, if we’re to create a world of possibility for everyone, we need to reframe the issues in language that connects and ignites our collective imaginations and capacity to create change.

Social change goes uphill, said Julie.

I get it — Sisyphus struggled perpetually and without hope of success.

Sometimes, we see social change as a Sisyphean struggle, an absurdly impossible ideal. So long as we believe social change isn’t possible, we’ll continually be pushing a square rock uphill.

And if we don’t strategically frame the issue in language that opens up minds and hearts and bodies to the collective power of our human potential, we’ll keep pushing uphill against fast-held beliefs in the impossibility of our dream of creating a ‘great city for everyone’.

It’s all in our perspective. It’s all in the lenses we use to see our world. It’s all in the language we choose to open up the view of what is possible. Are the issues oriented through…

a focus on the individualistic narrative of ‘you broke it, you fix it’ or the  pick yourself up by the bootstraps mentality…

or...

the wide-angle lens perspective of our collective responsibility/accountability/capability to affect positive change.

It was a smokin’ hot day! And I’m kewl with it! All charged up and ready to plug into Radical Creativity!

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Link to A Poetry Affair:  today’s poem — In This Silent Space

I am taken by surprise this morning. Bemused. Befuddled. Mystified.

Where I sit in my office I look out on the front yard and across the street where 50s style bungalows are lined up in a straight line thanks to urban developers of bygone years who designed for the ease of people not the movement of cars. This is an older residential area, older for Calgary that is where 100 years is viewed as ancient history. With the city’s urban sprawl it is considered inner city, though compared to the inner, inner city neighbourhood I used to live in, I think of it as outer inner city.

A visitor’s tracks

What befuddled me this morning and captured my attention was the four-legged critter that loped across the lawn, west to east. Oh no, my mind thought when first I spied it moving into my view. Someone’s dog is on the loose.

And I watched for a moment thinking I might have to gear up for the cold and venture forth to see if I could corral the dog and find its owner.

As I started to get up from my desk, however, I realized my mistake. It wasn’t a dog. It was a coyote on the prowl.

I sat back down with a thud.

A coyote on my front lawn? Whatever is it thinking? This is the city. Cities and wild beasts do not mix.

It obviously hadn’t gotten that memo. It didn’t seem to care about urban proprieties and, given that awhile later I watched three white bunnies leapfrog along the snow-covered street, I can understand why. No sense worrying about human sensitivities when breakfast cavorts with abandon throughout the neighbourhood!

Unconcerned by my watching eyes, it loped across the lawn and as quickly and silently as it appeared, it disappeared around the hedge between the neighbour’s house and ours. And it was gone.

Miracles are like that.

They appear and unless our eyes and hearts are open, we can easily miss them, or mistake them for a stray dog investigating the neighbourhood as we carry on with our day, intent on getting done what we intended.

In our not seeing eyes, we miss out on the wonder and awe of the moment unfolding. We miss out on the delicate balance of nature and humanity meeting on the playing field of life, in the most unexpected places.

And the moral of the story? Keep your eyes open for miracles, magic and wonder. They’re everywhere waiting for us to rejoice in their presence

And… in case any of my neighbours saw me out there in the wee hours of the morning and was wondering what I was doing dressed in my big woolly winter coat flapping around my pink pjs with the starfish design, trundling through the snow taking photos in the dark — no, I wasn’t a peeping Tom or a flasher or a cat burglar. I was just a curious voyeur out to capture a sign of the magic that passed by my window this morning.

What kind of magic is all around you? Are you open to seeing the miracles in everyday?

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Over on my A Poetry Affair page I share a poem I wrote inspired by the snow that fell last night. The photo is not actually taken this morning — it is dark out still — it was taken at the edge of dawn following another snowfall that left the world looking just like it does this morning!  Beautiful and mystical and silently serene. A morning to embrace, enjoy and awaken to with awe.

Nameste.

Ellie and I walked along the embankment above the reservoir, the late winter afternoon sunshine casting long shadows across the snow. The air was crisp but we didn’t care. Me bundled up in my parka. Ellie clad in her winter coat of fur. The snow and cold and fresh air didn’t bother us.

And then, a truck drove along the road that circumnavigates the middle of park. East to west, west to east, an entrance and an exit at both ends of the 5 kilometre long stretch of greenspace.

It was black. A fancy pickup.

It drove onwards as Ellie and I walked eastwards.

And then, it appeared again, driving east to west.

Funny how one truck can trigger memories of a time long ago.

I am running along the trail along the top of the embankment. Ellie is just a pup of a year or so. She dances and prances beside me, happy to be outdoors, happy to be with her mistress. She liked to play with her leash. She liked to grab it in her mouth and tug in a desperate attempt to get my attention and pull against her tug. It was one of her favourite games.

I was trying to teach her not to do it. Or at least, to only do it when it was an ‘appropriate’ time. She always had trouble with the timing but on this day, she is simply running beside me, her tongue hanging out, her tail wagging furiously with the simple joy of being outside.

And a truck drove by.

And I kept running.

And then it drove by again in the opposite direction.

He phoned me, sometime around the 3rd or 4th time of my seeing the truck drive past.

I told him about it.

Go back to your car, he said. Do nothing until I call you. Lock the doors. Drive away. Hurry.

I was only halfway through my run. Only halfway, I told him.

Listen to me. Do as I say.

And I did. Do as he said. Just as I did as he said the hundreds of times before, and the hundreds of times after until one day, he was gone and I no longer had to do as he said.

I was reminded of those times yesterday when a truck drove east to west, and then, west to east.

I saw the truck. Noticed its return and unbidden, thoughts of him scurried into my mind. But they didn’t capture me. They didn’t hold me in the thrall of the terror and pain of those days long ago.

Yesterday, a thought entered my mind unbidden and I was reminded. And I smiled and I rejoiced in the pure freedom of being past those days of silent terror.

I walked and Ellie pranced and then, I spread my arms wide and with the sun and the sky and the trees and the grasses whispering in the breeze as my witness, I danced.

Oh how I danced in the freedom to be, wild and free, my face uplifted to the sun, my arms spread wide to embrace the world all around me.

Oh how I danced.

I’ve mentioned her several times on my blog. Perhaps it’s because I’ve been so inspired through my connection with her. Or, perhaps because my heart recognizes her heart and knows the connection is lasting. Or, perhaps as well, because I love connecting to people who see the world through eyes of wonder and delight, who are consciously moving through each day with the intention of creating better. Whatever the reason, Kerry Parsons is one of those people who has deep sight — she sees into the heart of what is happening in the world, and what is happening in the spirit of those she comes in contact with.

Today, Kerry shares the openness and depth of her vision in her guest blog.

I am grateful for her presence here, and grateful she is my friend. She makes my world a better place!

Thanks Kerry for being today’s guest blogger. Thank you for always saying YES to Life! Thank you for inspiring me to live and love in the power of YES!

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The Best Books I’ve Never Read

by Kerry Parsons

I love books…books about life and love and God and Grace and meaning and miracles.  Books about evolution and spirituality and Soul and science. Knowing that the world is filled with libraries and bookstores and minds filled with books yet to be written or read….that’s  a wellspring of wonder that makes me want to live forever.

But the best books…the ones that have changed my life, are books that I have never read. The front cover…the name of the book, named a truth that resonated deep within and woke up my mind and heart to something more good, more true and more beautiful.

The message jumped off the front cover and my reality changed…No need to read on.

For example, ‘Success is the Quality of the Journey‘ Of course! I knew it! Winning is fun but then the game is over. I’d rather keep playing.

‘I’m O.K. You’re O.K.’ Whew! Just knowing someone else sees this possibility and wrote a whole book about it is reassuring.  Next…

A turning point in my life arrived with the front cover of…‘No. Is a Complete Sentence.‘ Really? Seriously? You can say that? The very thought of this possibility shifted the teutonic  plates of my people-pleasing world.  I could just say ‘No.’ without rationalizing, justifying, explaining…a time saving tip that opened up a whole new world for me and…for all those who had to listen to my back up/cover stories…They could say ‘No.’ too.

What if we all had the power of ‘No.’ all along?  OMG! Then, what if I had the power of Yes all along?  But, Yes to what?

There it was, hot off the press, the front cover with the answer…’The Only Thing That Matters.’ This was no ordinary front cover. This cover was created by Neale Donald Walsch who has been conversing with God for years so this message comes right from the highest authority.  One front cover…two messages…What matters to me…matters.  And, when I don’t know what matters, have a conversation with God and listen up.

O.K. I’m listening…through the portal of my own heart, I heard…Say Yes to Life!  It is the only thing we have. Make it matter.

So, Yes to Life and the book covers yet to come that show me the way to make the best of the good, the true and the beautiful life…It Matters!

As happened throughout 2012, Saturdays are a day to celebrate heroes.

Yesterday, I took the new West LRT line to the 45st station and then walked the 25 minute journey home. It was delightful. Peaceful. A wonderful way to unwind from my day. I am grateful for this new rapid transit line, grateful to the city and the engineers and architects and designers and construction teams and those whose lives were disrupted by its construction.

The West LRT was built by heroes.

Nav works at the Calgary Homeless Foundation where I am now working on contract 3 days a week. Along with financially supporting Christmas at the Madison, Nav came by my office space this week to give me a BlueRay DVD player for one of the residents. “I bought a new TV and this came with it,” he said. “I don’t need it, maybe someone at The Madison does.” And he’s right. Someone does.

Nav is a hero.

My daughter Alexis phoned me last night about an event she’s organizing as a special project to support Project True in Vancouver. She’s inviting friends and acquaintances to an evening of wine and cheese and music and… a unique clothing sale. Each guest is invited to clean out their closets and bring at least one item of clothing to donate. The clothing will be sold at the event and proceeds will go to Project True. She’s already got a number of people signed up to participate and is excited!

Alexis, Project True and those looking to support this important initiative are heroes.

And…  because I like to share inspiring things I find on the web  — and the web is so incredibly filled with interesting and inspiring ideas — I’m sharing a video from DoSomething.org, an organization that harnesses the awesome energy of teens and unleashes it on causes teens care about. So, if like me you fall into the ‘old people’ category of DoSomething.org, (that’s anyone over 25!) but, you know a teen, know someone with a teen, teach teens, coach teens, have seen a teen in your neighbourhood or walk past a high school and think maybe teens hang out there… and you want to inspire teens to grow up and take over the world someday so they can fix all the problems old people have made (just kiddin’ (kinda) we old people have done lots of things right too!)…. here’s a place to find out what you can do!

Because no matter your age, even if you’re an old people, we can all make a difference!

Oh! And… before I forget — remember my promise yesterday to throw out one thing everyday throughout the year… well, I’ve created a page on my blog called:  KISS my life!  On it, I’ll be sharing that photo a day thing I said I’d do.  and yes… I took a photo of today’s stack of bedding that’s going to the homeless shelter.

http://ayearofmakingadifference.com/kiss-my-life/

“On the Eleventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me… eleven pipers piping!”

Today is the 11th Day of Christmas. I know. I know. You thought the 12 days of Christmas began before the 25th. In actuality, they begin post birth and end with the arrival of the 3 Kings on the 6th. Though some would say the Epiphany on January 6 also represents the day that the baby Jesus was baptised.

As a child, the Epiphany was a big celebration in our house. The tree could not come down, the decorations could not be put away until after the 6th. When my daughters were younger, there was always one gift tucked into the branches of the tree (hopefully all the pine needles didn’t fall off when the gift was inserted). “Oh look!” I’d exclaim when they found their gift, “The three kings have visited.”

There was also the tradition of the Three Kings Cake. Always created ‘in the round’, the cake also included a hidden treasure tucked within it. Like money. Whoever got the slice with the money (the ancients used a bean or seed) was said to be especially lucky and got to wear the paper crown that was also part of the tradition.

So it goes without saying that I love ritual. I love how it connects me to my family and their family and families past. I love how it weaves magic and wonder and a sense of awe into everything I do.

And I love how it keeps me grounded in what is important and vital and nourishing to my soul.

Holding on…

Which possibly explains why I find it so hard to let go of ‘things’. Oh, not the emotionally driven things like, ‘you were mean to me I’m going to hate you for the rest of my life’ — which okay… honest…  I think that maybe, just possibly, that was one of the things my sister, Anne, and I said to each other when we were kids and one or the other of us did something to hurt the other…

But I got over it. Holding onto grudges. Blurting out hurtful things just because I was feeling less than or other than or different than someone else. Being resentful doesn’t get me more of what I want in my life — peace, love, joy and harmony.

Not holding onto resentments, focussing on what I want in my life, however, has not done anything about my tendency to hold onto ‘things’. Objects. Possessions.

For someone who ten years ago woke up one morning in May with nothing but a few clothes in a suitcase, Ellie the Wonder Pooch and 72 cents in her pocket, it amazes me how I have accumulated so much stuff my closets are over-flowing, the basement is bulging and the double garage only has room for one car.

Taking a page from Mark’s comment yesterday who shared his process of ‘curing’ himself of accumulation tendencies, I’ve decided to start rejoicing in the adage, Less is More.

For the rest of this year, every day I must throw out, give away, cull, divest myself of one thing. And I can’t bring another thing into this house (other than food and essentials) until I’ve got a month of divestiture under my belt.

And so it begins…

This morning’s give away is all about ‘the great outdoors’. The closet in my office is full of outerwear I seldom wear. Mostly, I call them my dog walking coats but seriously… how many dog walking coats does a gal need? Ellie doesn’t care what I’m wearing. She’s just happy to be outside. And most of the coats in that closet I might wear once a year, if that. Some, I haven’t worn for two or three or more. So, I’ve taken them down off their hangers, checked through their pockets, (six poop bags, one dog treat — who knows how old — a pocket-size package of kleenex, one mitten (so that’s where it was!) and $5.72). While the daily-item-giveaway will not be the theme of this blog, I shall be sharing a photo of what I’ve culled (just to keep me honest).

And just so you know. My heart is having pangs of anxiety. My palms are itchy. My scalp is crawling with thought bugs creeping all over the place. “Do I really have to do this?” “What if you need a coat just that colour…” “It might come back in style next year.” “It’s in really good shape, and you don’t have a windbreaker just that length…”

But I’m doing it anyway. Being brave. Being committed. Being resourceful and rejoicing in a closet that isn’t quite so crammed!

Namaste.

PS — and thank you Alexis for the inspiration to start culling through The Wunder Year!