Home Sweet Home

One of the best parts of a road trip in Canada is the uninterrupted time to listen to CBC Radio 1. All talk radio with fascinating interviews of people known and unknown, every day people doing every day things extraordinarily, extraordinary people doing extraordinary things who offer up insight and information on living life beyond the edges of your comfort zone.

Somewhere between Calgary and Saskatoon, I heard Bill Shapiro, former editor of LIFE magazine and editor of the book, “Other People’s Rejection Letters’ being interviewed by Jian Ghomeshi, one of my favourite CBC hosts. When asked, what made you collect other people’s rejection letters, Bill Shapiro answered that he had received a letter from someone who mentioned they had a file of rejection letters. Bill Shapiro didn’t. And not having any rejection letters wasn’t a good sign.

Rejection letters are about courage. About taking risks. About stepping out there, beyond our comfort zone and leaping. They’re about hopes and dreams and putting ourselves ‘out there’ knowing, someone may not like what we’re doing or saying, and that’s okay. At least we’re doing and saying something ‘out there’ in that place where hopes and dreams come alive.

Bill wasn’t. Out there. Doing and saying enough to get any rejection letters.

Sunshiney walls

It was, he said, a good wake-up call. A turning point of sorts. He decided to collect Other People’s Rejection Letters to better understand those who were willing to take risks, and to awaken his own capacity to do it too.

It struck me, listening to Mr. Shapiro’s responses that I no longer know where my rejection letter file is. It struck me that I might possibly have simply thrown out every rejection letter I ever received, as if, discarding them took away the sting — which, is okay if I continue putting myself out there. Not so good if I used the rejection as an excuse to quit writing, or painting, or any of the things I do to express myself in the world.

And that’s where the real power of the rejection letter comes in. Does it stop me from trying, or do I ignore the opinion of others and continue to persevere, to carry-on bravely, to push forward, to lean into my dreams and keep living them into reality?

Ellie’s new bed

Imagine if an  aspiring Olympian decided with their latest loss to quit racing or playing the game. Imagine if they quit believing they could win.<p>For me, the parallel is writing. I have a book on my laptop waiting for me to continue writing. I have a dream waiting for me to unfold it. Imagine if, I decided because it hasn’t yet found its home, I decided to quit writing it.

Imagine.

It is Sunday and time for a guest blog, except, I didn’t bring my laptop, just my iPad and my folder wtih guest blogs in it isn’t on my iPad…. so… you’ll just have to wait until next week for a guest blog!

In the interim, a Sunday of quiet appreciation. A Sunday filled with gratitude and Love – and a really short blog as it is a quiet day for reflection and grace and ease.

There is a  world of joy living with a grateful heart. Or, to put it in a different frame ofreference as I read at A Course in Miracles this morning, Love is the way to walk in gratitude.

I am walking in Love today. Walking with my heart filled with gratitude, thankful for this day, for the sunlight outside my window, the quiet of this house which is also my home in a city I am learning to enjoy. It isn’t place that makes the difference, it’s being with the one you love, and here is Love.

And it is Love that always makes a difference.

Namaste.

It is Saturday and time to celebrate those special people who are heroes in our midst.

It was 1pm when I left Calgary for Saskatoon yesterday afternoon, later than anticipated but still ample time to make it to Saskatoon so that C.C. and I could go experience Rory Block put on by the Saskatoon Jazz Society at their fabulous venue, The Basement. Because a Rory Block concert is an experience worth having! I hadn’t heard of Rory Block before — and I love the Blues! She was magnificent. And the venue was perfect. Small. Intimate. Close. She chatted with the audience, interspersing the Blues with stories of her life and stories of her heroes like Robert Johnson, Son House and Mississippi John Hurt. Her road to Saskatoon began like mine, except, her’s included a tour bus that broke down and is now on its way to Seattle with all the rest of her equipment and merchandise and only one of her team. Didn’t matter. She didn’t let it get her down. She was magnificent and the evening was pure bliss.

Rory Block and the Saskatoon Jazz Society are heroes.

As C.C. and I sat waiting for the show to begin, we chatted with a woman at the next table (The Basement is set up cabaret style — very cool). Linda has spent her life struggling to make ends meet as a musician. She’s always managed to do it, but, as she told us, if it wasn’t for her adult daughter moving back home to help her out for the past year, she would be starving. Linda told us about the operation to remove a cancerous tumour from her body that put her out of business sometime, a year and a half ago. And then she shared, how while she was in hospital recuperating, friends got together and held a benefit concert on her behalf. “People I don’t even know, who’ve only heard me play, maybe, came and supported me,” she said. And she shook her head and added, “I still can’t believe how many people came and helped. It’s amazing.” That’s when it struck me. Gratitude lies at the heart of making a difference. It is the driving force in a heroes heart.

Linda of the no strings bass guitar playing, you have a hero’s heart.

During intermission, Linda got up to speak to friends and C.C. went to the bar to buy me a glass of wine. When he returned, he had a drink for Linda too. He put it on her table, sat down and never said a word. “That was nice,” I commented. He shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “It’s what her girlfriend bought her earlier. I figured she wouldn’t be able to buy another so, I did.” The lights were dim for the second half of the show when Linda sat down again. She didn’t know where the drink came from, but she was appreciative. And C.C. never said a word.

C.C. is a hero.

Before I was planning on leaving Calgary in the morning, I had tentatively set lunch up with one of the most caring, enthusiastic and energetic people I know working in the homeless sector. Mark Powers was the Manager of Volunteer Services, reporting to me when I worked at the Calgary Drop-In (DI). His ability to continually seek out opportunities to make a difference, to create space for Calgarians to come in and lend a hand and learn about homelessness was inspiring. Now, as Manager of Fund Development, he continues to fight fearlessly and tirelessly on behalf of the people the DI serves. He continues to make it possible for Calgarians to make a difference in the lives of those experiencing homelessness.

Mark Powers is a hero. 

There are heroes everywhere. Have you celebrated a hero in your life today?

And…. just because this is technology and just because I can, here’s Rory Block and her rendition of Robert Johnson’s iconic, Crossroads.

————————————-  And today’s Peace Poem:  War No More

Though there are those who might disagree, to me, a car is but a car… until it doesn’t start.

Then it becomes a point of frustration. An issue generating discord with the speed of a star falling from the sky.

Yesterday, my youngest daughter who has had my car for the past week as she drove to Vancouver with friends and my car is roomier and newer, called and said, “Your car won’t start.”

She’d arrived back the night before and as it was late, we’d agreed to switch cars the next day.

When her call came in, I was in the middle of working on a report. “The bumper cables are in the garage,” I told her. “You’ll have to get Ryan (her boyfriend) to drive you over.”

“Can’t you bring them over?” she asked.

“No,” I replied after taking a deep breath. In the past, I would jump to, jump at, any opportunity to ‘do’ for my daughters. And while I still like to do, I am learning to set boundaries and to allow them space to be competent in their own lives.

She came. Got the cables. Boosted my car and the day moved on.

Until later that afternoon when once again, it wouldn’t start.

She brought it back. I drove to Canadian tire, remember to take the old battery in the garage with me from one of C.C.’s cars that needed to be recycled. I carried it in. (who knew batteries were so heavy?)

“Do you have the warranty card?” the woman at the service counter asked.

“I have the receipt from when we bought it,” I said, hopefully.

“I’m sorry. We really need the warranty card as it’s a government program.”

Ok. Well, why don’t I just buy a new battery (their service department was closed and couldn’t get to my car until the morning. I was hoping a friend could come and help me switch out the batteries. How hard could it be? Seriously?)

“What’s the size of your engine?” she asked.

“Just the right size to fit under the hood,” I smiled. Again. Hopefully.

Her smile said it all. Yup. One of those women. Knows nothing about cars.

“We need to know the size so we can get you the right size battery. What make of Calibre is it?”

“Um….. Blue?”

She smiled. Sort of. Again.

“We could use your registration and the VIN to figure it out.”

YEah!  I know what my registration is! I pick up the unreturnable (I think) battery. It’s still heavy. I walk back to my car. Get my registration. Put the old battery back in the trunk and return to the sales desk.

“You know. Seeing as you’re buying a new battery, we could take the old one back and give you the discount.”

“Sure!” I laughingly reply. “I’ll just run back out to my car and get it!”

She apologizes for the error. I laugh it off. Go, get the battery and lug it back in. I think it’s gained 10 pounds in the interim.

Batteries exchanged. Money paid. A few more laughs shared. Ryan set to come later after work to help me install it, I return to my car. I try to balance the battery on one hip as I search for my keys. Where the heck…?

Not wanting to leave my battery in the parking lot, I lug it back to the service counter where I have left my keys. Back to car, (it’s getting heavier by the minute I swear) I drive home and wait for Ryan.

It’s dark when he arrives. We fumble around trying to remove all the nuts and bolts only to discover this battery is bolted into the frame. You need a special tool.

I park it in the garage. Put the battery charger on it and go to bed. At 7am I’m at the dealership hoping to get it installed ASAP. I’m driving to Saskatoon this morning. I want to get going.

Scratch that. I’m driving to Saskatoon this afternoon. They can’t get to it until later in the morning.

Sigh.

A car is just a car. Until it won’t start.

How I handle it is what will either drive me crazy… or not.

I’m choosing the non-crazy driving route. It is just a car. And the day is no less sunny and beautiful even if it doesn’t start.

The difference is always in my attitude.

I laughed last night. Deep, bellyful laughter that reverberated through the room, lighting upon each of us in shimmering joy.

It was healthy. Fun. Invigorating.

It made a difference.

It began with a comment from one of the four of us gathered for a meeting. We had been talking about the collaborative power of the ‘peace circle’. Howard, one of the Summer of Peace originators, mentioned how each meeting he wanted to work to the Agenda, but the agenda kept taking a backseat to the creative process of being in the space of allowing the peace initiative to appear and evolve through the generative process. We were all in awe of how it happened. Of having been part of such a peaceful and, yes, miraculous, happening.

“But I missed my agenda,” added Howard.

Later, as we talked about what we wanted to create together in our new initiative around “The Essential Journey” one of the attendees teased Howard and said, “Is your middle initial ‘A’ Howard?”

Howard’s jaw dropped. Kerry went still and I looked at him askance. Excuse me?

“For Agenda,” he clarified quickly.

We all breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh good,” I inserted into the silence. “For a moment I thought you meant azzhole and couldn’t believe you’d call Howard that!”

And a huge guffaw erupted out of Howard’s body. His laughter was contagious. We all started laughing, because, truthfully, the A was a bit ambiguous and it could have been completely misconstrued had Ian not clarified his intent.

Later, I received a lovely email from Howard thanking me for my willingness to speak what is in the room, openly and honestly.

Like yesterday’s post about being conscious of my thoughts, I also need to be conscious of what I’m saying. Sometimes, saying what I’m thinking gets me in trouble.

It’s so much better when it gets me into laughter.

Laughter is healing. It energizes my body. It lifts my spirits. Laughter reminds me to not take myself so seriously. To not be so concerned about what others are thinking about me — because really, they’re probably not thinking about me in the first place!  It’s just my ego that would lead me to believe they are, thinking about me, judging me, measuring me against some unknown yardstick I’m not measuring up to when, there is no yardstick to measure up to.

I laughed last night. Deep satisfying laughter that spontaneously ignited feelings of joy. And in laughter’s healing grace I was reminded, we are all connected. And when we connect through laughter, we create more of what we want in the world — feelings of harmony and joy.

Laughter makes a difference.

_________________________________________________

And my Make Peace Happen poem is all about the laughter.

This is where peace becomes.

http://makepeacehappen.me/2012/08/08/this-is-where-peace-becomes/

Sun on a tree makes peace within me

I have decided it’s time I change my thinking around SPAM. No, not the SPAM of meat by-product fame, but rather, the SPAM of internet proliferation polluting my InBox every morning with stupid ads for stupid things I do not need.  (Ooops, I slipped.) I mean, the SPAM that leaves messages for me every morning in my InBox. (whew! That’s better.)

Oh, and while I’m at it, I’m going to make peace with the stupid crow who sits outside my bedroom every morning squawking at the damn squirrel who’s trying to steal food from the birdfeeder, or is it trying to dig up the bulbs, again, that  I just planted.

Oh, and what about that nerdy driver who must wait for me to reach that intersection every morning because for the past week he’s been there three days in a row and each time he’s cut me off and I’ve had to slam on my brakes and…. I know it’s the same guy ’cause I memorized his license plate so he must know it’s me which is why I know he’s doing it on purpose.

And I breathe.

Being angry about life’s little ups and downs over which I sometimes feel helpless takes a lot of energy. And it disturbs my peace of mind.

And I wonder…. is that what leads people to pack weapons into a crowded room and start firing indiscriminately? Is that what causes us to blow gaskets in our minds and steam all over the place? Feeling helpless over the big and small things of life and believing there’s only one way to make a difference?

I know it’s not as simple as that. I know being angry at the stupid crow, I mean, the crow outside my window, is not going to lead me to get a rifle and shoot it, even though I sometimes lie in bed in the morning and imagine doing just that. No. Cancel that thought. I don’t. Really. Though I do think about sneaking outside and blasting it with water streaming from the hose…

But, if all things are connected, and we are all connected, then that man in Wisconsin’s actions are connected to my thinking. And in my thinking are the seeds of discord. And in those seeds, anything can grow.

It’s being conscious of the seeds I’m planting that makes the difference between our connection.

In Wisconsin, a man kills seven people and injures many more, and the people affected open their doors to their community to invite their neighbours in. And in that gesture, understanding, compassion, community, forgiveness and peace are invited in too.

I am not in any way trying to minimize or suggest what he did was acceptable. It was deadly and will have lasting repercussions in the community — which is why I admire the Sikh community’s move to create peace, and not fuel the flames of anger and discord further.

All things are connected. If I follow the thread of my anger about the crow outside my window, where will it lead?

I’m not saying I will invite the crow into my house. No way. But, what I do need to be conscious of are the thoughts I invite to take seed in my mind. Nurturing seeds of discord creates more discord. Being open to the willingness to let those thoughts not take root creates greater opportunity for seeds of harmony to flourish.

Louise Hay, author of You Can Heal Your Life, writes, “It’s only a thought and a thought can be changed.”

Perhaps it’s not about changing my thoughts around the SPAM or the crows or the squirrel or the driver or…. Perhaps it’s learning to simply delete the SPAM without the angry outbursts and expletives. Learning to roll over and bury my head under the pillow when the crow squawks or closing the window or investing in earplugs. Or, simply letting the experience flow free and not giving my angry thoughts room to take root and grow more anger.

There are many ways to make a difference in the world. And always, they begin in my thinking.

I cannot change what happened in Wisconsin, or anywhere else in the world. I can add my prayers and let them ripple out and connect to the prayers of millions of others. I can consciously choose to create harmony throughout my world today by being that which I wish to create more of in the world. Peace, Love and Joy.

Namaste.

Ellie grabs some shade on her birthday walk.

I remember the day we brought her home. A tiny ball of golden fur.  All she wanted more than anything else was to cuddle and be held.

We named her after Ella Fitzgerald but she quickly became Ellie. Sweet. Gentle. Sometimes mischievous. Always loving. Always faithful.

She liked to be where ever I was. She followed me around the house, sitting in my lap, or any available lap of whomever happened to be closest. Ellie liked to be close.

The guide books said to kennel her whenever we weren’t home. Ellie didn’t like being kenneled. I didn’t do it. She was fine. She never chewed anything. Not a shoe, piece of furniture, or book ever fell prey to her teeth. Though she did, and still does, like to get into the garbage.

Ellie is a garbage hound par excellence! Once, she stuck her head through the lid of the bathroom garbage can and when she removed it, the lid came with her. She made us laugh that day, as she has made us laugh almost every day for the past 12 years since that day we brought her home in early September, 2000.

Yesterday was Ellie’s 12th birthday. Happy Birthday Ellie.

We celebrated it as we always do. A nice long walk in the morning. A special treat. Lots of hugs and time together. It’s the least I can do for this wonder pooch who has brought such joy and comfort to our lives.

Ellie has always been there for me, in good times and in bad. She has walked mile after mile by my side as I walked out my blues and confusion. She has sat by me hour after hour as I cried out my fears and frustration. And, in the really dark times, she has hidden with me in the dark, body pressed against me, lending me her strength and warmth.

The Birthday Girl!

When I think of the things that make the biggest different in my life, Ellie is high up on that list. Family, my beloved, friends, Ellie the Wonder Pooch and Marley the Great Cat. And then comes my work, my hobbies, my passions of writing and painting and all the other things I do that hold value in my life.

People and animals are the gifts of life. They bring me joy, happiness, community, companionship, friendship and Love.  Always Love.

Ellie turned 12 years old yesterday.

What a blessing. What a difference she has made in my world.

The first time I met Judy Atkinson was fifteen years ago at a house party where the hostess had invited a woman she knew to come and give the 20 or so guests a drumming lesson. I was intimidated and awed. She was beautiful. Graceful. Vibrant. She sparkled.

Fifteen years later, I met up with Judy again at my first Summer of Peace Calgary 2012 meeting. Once again, I felt intimidated and awed. She was still, beautiful, graceful, vibrant. She still sparkles.

Except, I don’t feel intimidated anymore. That was just my ego anyway and in Judy’s presence there is no room for ego. She is all in. All there. All present. In Judy’s presence, there is only room for Love, peace and joy.

Today, Judy shares her story of how she became a “Messenger of JOY”. How she lives the power and force of drumming to create lasting change, in our hearts and beings and in the world.

Thank you Judy for shining your light here, and throughout the world. Thank you for always drumming up joy! You make a difference.

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When the DRUM calls, Listen!

by Judy Atkinson

Today, I am affectionately known as a “Messenger of JOY”.  Wow, what a great title! My Mom says that I was born happy, and certainly I had a delightful rural upbringing in Northern Alberta.  However, 20 years ago I was not so joyful.

I was a 40-year-old single mom, head and heart spinning with disappointment, sadness and fear, trying to protect and care for my children and also get my feet on the ground after divorce.

BC, (before children), I completed an undergrad degree in Sociology and then took a job to support my husband as he completed his law degree. I was in the highly competitive dog-eat-dog corporate world of sales and marketing and knew I didn’t want to go back there!  After the divorce I knew that I wanted to “Take my Soul to Work”,  to authentically love what I was doing and at the same time make a difference in people’s lives, as I had been doing  in my children’s lives, and for  those who attended my parenting education workshops.  So I enrolled in a Master’s degree in Adult Education.

Half way through this grad degree I found myself at an international business conference in Mexico called Take your Soul to Work!  “Right out of the blue” so they say.   Thank you Universe!  I attended everything that was offered, and mid-week, not even knowing what it was, I attended a drum circle workshop that blew  my mind!  It was simply transformational.  I literally melted into the experience, time stood still, and I experienced heaven on Earth.  It was a real live epiphany which changed my life forever!

It was like a huge magnet attached itself to my heart and dropped me right into the middle of the circle.    It tugged me in and then gently nudged me out at the end, tears of joy streaming down my face.  I knew clearly, without a shred of doubt that this was what I was to do with my career and life from that day forth.   I knew that this was a powerful tool for human transformation, my calling and my new world service.

It made no sense from a head place.  Here I was, a middle class, white woman trying to make a living as a single mom drumming in the corporate world 15 years ago in red neck Calgary!  My friends and family rolled their eyes, but supported me because of the sheer passion pouring out of me and the sparkle they saw in my eyes.

15 years later I am facilitating over 200 drum circles a year all over the province and country.  From corporate to community, team building to cancer work, weddings to funerals, I run a thriving small business giving people a taste of the experience that I had that warm moist night in Mexico.  My drums and I bring joy, hope, love and laughter, release, community, possibility, spirit, healing and connection to thousands of people every year.  I know that what I do makes a difference as people release pent-up stress, feel supported and connected to themselves, to each other and to something bigger…   You’re right Mom, I am a Messenger  of Joy!

My message to you is:  follow that heart tug when you feel it.  It might make no sense at the time.  It might be a huge shove, or a gentle nudge, but listen to it.  Today I realize that the drumbeat is simply the vibration of love.  When the drum, ( Love), calls listen, it is your heart trying to be heard.

I truly hope to join rhythms with you in a drum circle sometime soon!  Bless your heart.
Judy Atkinson, Circles of Rhythm, 403-253-2023, judy@circlesofrhythm   www.circlesofrhythm.com