We drove up the coastal highway yesterday. Picked up our rental car at noon and headed over the Golden Gate Bridge north to wine country. We opted out of taking the main highway and wound our way instead along the coast. Two extra hours of driving, but we had no time table, no must be’s or do’s to dictate our time. It was divine.

Before we left San Francisco we wandered down to Maraket Street to watch the Pride Parade. It was wild. One million people come out to witness the event — in a city of 700,000 that’s pretty spectacular!

The parade iself is one huge spectacle of noise and colour and bodies wearing, or not wearing, rainbow colours and every other colour that suited their fancy. There was a lot of fancy everywhere including one man riding his bicycle wearing nothing other than the suit he was born in. I wondered if he was wearing sunscreen, everywhere.

You needed it yesterday. Sunscreen. The sun shone out of a cloudless sky.The air was warm and silky. The streets were filled with people, all vying for position to get a glimpse of the parade.

There were also the prerequisite protesters. A woman standing on an upturned crate at the corner of Powell and Market Street singing, ‘Jesus Loves You!’. Around her a bevy of people stood waving placards that said things like “Homo sex is a sin.” “Homo’s are a threat to national security.” And around them, another group in a circle, facing inward, yelling out, “We’re homo’s and Jesus loves us too!”

I was curious about the ‘threat to national security’ bit but C.C. suggested I not stop and ask for clarification. I decided to listen to him as an altercation flared up between one man from the group asserting his right to express his sexual orientation and a man wanting to deny that  right. Placards fell, bodies shoved and we moved out of the line of scrimmage.

It was all rather fascinating and as one man said to me as we stood at the edge of the street waiting for the parade to pass-by, ‘It must be very painful to hold such rigid views. Perhaps they forget, we are all part of the rainbow of life. Everyone of us. Maybe a little less black and white and a bit more colour would be helpful.’

I liked that man. We chatted for awhile. He and his wife come to watch the parade every year in support of their son. He’s been to the Calgary Stampede a few times. ‘That’s quite the parade you got up there,’ he said and then added with a laugh. ‘But nothing like this!’

And he was right. It was nothing like this. People wearing long tubular balloons cascading from their backs like jelly fish fronds floating in the water. Men in drag. Men in skimpy swim suits, their bodies painted in rainbow hues. And men wearing nothing but paint. Women too. Their bodies painted in multi-coloured hues, shimmering with glitter and sparkle paint. They rode Harley’s and Hondas and bicycles and trucks and everything conceivable. And not one horse.

Definitely not the Calgary Stampede.

And, with all the paint and glitter, they didn’t need sunscreen.

But I did and I forgot. C.C. had a ball cap. I stood, my face naked to the sun and oohed and aahed and yelled and cheered as people and floats and cheerleaders and almost naked marching bands passed by.

And then, I sat in the open car, the sun and wind streaming down as we drove north along the coast, through rolling hills and curving road towards Sonaoma County.

It was divine. We drove through groves of fagrant treess and lush valleys. Up over hillsides that opened into vistas of ocean glistening out into the horizon. We drove around curves that inspired oohs and aahs and Stop! Just one more photoo.

But I should have been wearing sunscreen.

This morning, my nose is a pretty red and my forehead somewhat coloured too. Perhaps it’s the rainbow in me coming out. Or maybe, it’s just I forgot my new face cream doesn’t contain sunblock.

I’ll be wearing sunscreen today. It will make a difference!

It was a long  day yesterday. We left Calgary on a 7am flight to grab a connector in Vancouver at 9:30. Except… San Francisco was fogged in and our flight was delayed until noon. We boarded at about the same time we would have been arriving in San Fran if we’d been on time. Which, made me smile when we did arrive because the direct flight from Calgary to San Fran arrived in at the same time as we eventually did!

And in the end, it didn’t matter. We had a delightful driver ferry us to our hotel, a quaint B&B style, English mansion — The White Swan. We’re in the heart of it all. And loving it.

As we waited in Vancouver yesterday I watched a small drama unfold between a mother and fathere and their two daughters.  The girls, aged around five and three, were hugging each other and fell over backwards. The youngest hit her head and wasn’t sure how to respond. The eldest rubbed the back of her head, hugged her and told her she was okay. It was very sweet to watch. They were so natural and loving towards each other.

Laughing, they lay on the floor, looking up at the ceiling way above. The father told them to “get up”. The mother said, “they’re fine.” The girls kept playing. Finally, the father walked over, grabbed the arm of the eldest girl and hauled her to her  feet. The youngest quickly stood up, ran to her mother and hid between her legs as did the eldest. The mother looked at the father with a look of disgust and turned her back to him. He stood there looking confused and lost. What happened?

What struck me was how the dynamics of shame and fear played out in that little tableau. How the father felt unheard and while he was unnecessarily rough, it was easy to see how the roles in their family were set. How the children learn to play one parent against another – eventually the father bought both girls some candy…

We teach our children, constantly, how to be in the world. We teach them acts of love. We teach them how to fear. And, we teach them how to feel unsafe being themselves.

When we feel unheard, unseen, unknown, we act out in ways that shore up our fears against that which we fear. In watching the tableau unfold, I was struck by the power of seemingly simple gestures to affect change – in all directions.

Now, C.C. did not witness this drama. He was comfortable reading his book, not worrying about the world around him and all it’s drama. But, just before we were to disembark, I asked him what I should do with the ten dollar food voucher the airline hd given us. “you could find a young kid to give it to,” he suggested.

What a brilliant idea!

I walked over to the food court area and saw a young (late teens) boy buying a sandwich and drink. I offered him the voucher. Seriously, he asked and then quickly took it before I changed my mind.

Always thinking that C.C. He makes a difference in my world.

Blessings to all. San Fran is lovely!

I’m not sure what it is, but it’s been crazy busy the past few days. Perhaps, getting ready to go away for a week. Perhaps, getting ready for a major event Friday night where I won’t be. Perhaps, it’s organizing everything for the excitement of Brett Wilson’s Garden Party where the Calgary Counselling Centre where I’m working is the one three recipients of funding from the Garden Party event for its Eating Disorder programming. Or, perhaps it’s that I’m working with a core group of essential generatives to create a map for the future….

Whatever it is, I’ve been crazy busy.

Which makes me think about the meaning of making a difference.

Part of it has to do with slowing down to become aware, conscious of and flowing with what is going on around me. And when I’m super busy, I don’t take time to breathe and be aware. I simply push into doing.

Not good. Not healthy. Not fulfilling. To be my greatest difference in the world, I must breathe into the moment and simply allow what is to be without trying to make it anything other than what it is.

Take the Summer of Peace Calgary 2012. When we first began meeting several months ago, none of us had any clear vision of what it would look like. We simply had a vision for what could be possible if we all started working together to create Summer of Peace, with an event as the kick-off. And then the idea came to the surface to collaborate with Judy Atkinson and Circles of Rhythm in a Friday night drum circle. And then, the idea floated to the top to invite Calgary’s poet Laureate, Chris DeMeanor, and then…

It was the allowing of the ‘and then’  that created the magic and the wonder of Summer of Peace. It wasn’t ‘the plan’, it was the allowing for the co-creative process to inform each action, and then the next. That’s what made the biggest difference.

To make a difference in our world, we have to let go of believing we know what is needed and stay open and conscious of what is appearing in the moment. It is to let go of our plans, and open up to the unexpected.

It is to be allowing of miracles, expectant of wonder and open to possibility.

Making a difference isn’t a roadmap or a plan. It’s all about staying open and receptive of possibility.

And this morning, while it is currently half past midnight, I know I must arise early and get ready to leave for the airport by 5:30am. C.C. and I are on a 7am flight. it will be fun! I’ve all the time in the world to sleep on the flight. I’ve only got right now to experience the wonder and the possibility of now.

Namaste.

We met to plot the final notes on Drumming Up Peace! last night.  Seven provocateurs huddled in a circle around an oak coffee table in the living room of our leader’s home, to cast a final look at what we’ve created over the past months of weekly gatherings.

These meetings always begin with a ‘grounding’. Kerry Parsons, circle connector, passes around a beautiful crystal wand and invites all of us to share what’s on our hearts, where we’re at, what’s been happening for us since our last meeting. It’s our ‘internal weather report’. A check-in to bring us out of the busy-ness of the day, to check out where we’re at to bring us fully present into the circle.

As I listened to each person speak last night I saw in awe of the wonder and the beauty of the human spirit and our capacity to create.

A few short months ago, Summer of Peace Calgary 2012 was an idea. Now, it’s kicking-off at an event that promises to explode with drums and spoken word and song. Calgary’s poet laureate Chris demeanor will be performing a piece he wrote just for the show, as will spoken word artist Sheri D-Wilson. Amy Wood, an amazing young singer/song-writer will be performing a piece she’s written specifically for the night and Judy Atkinson of Circles of Rhythm will be drumming up the beat of peace throughout the night.

It is an evening not to be missed!

Though I will be missing it.

C.C. and I are off to San Francisco tomorrow morning for a week of fun and laughter, love and bliss together. Three nights in San Fran and three in the wine country at a delightful B&B Sonoma Orchid Inn. We’re staying in the Madronna suite – just the name of it feels romantic!

I am excited.

And sad.

Sad to be missing this event that I’ve helped bring into creation. Sad to not be with my circle.

And yet, I will be there, in spirit. And in spirit, all things happen with grace and ease.

Last night when I got home, I wrote out the poem that began forming while I was sitting in the circle last night (I’ve posted it on my Recover Your Joy blog. The photo background is taken from the airplane as I flew into Vancouver on Friday). And as the muse had her way, I was reminded of how easy it is to make a difference when we let go of our disbelief it is impossible to change the world. It’s not because anything is possible in the limitless possibilities of our dreams. And if we can dream it, we can create it when we move with grace and ease into being present to the miracles that unfold with every breath we take.

Months ago, Kerry Parsons dreamt of creating a summer of peace in Calgary. She invited others to share in her dream, to cast their brilliance on the idea of peace and to co-create an opportunity for peace to make a difference in our world. Friday night, Summer of Peace Calgary 2012 kicks off and in its drumming beat I am reminded that when we engage in peace-making there is no room for war-mongering. When we let go of believing in the impossibility of our dreams coming true, they do.

And, when you have a moment… check out the Peace Academy. I’m teaching there in July — along with a stellar list of other presenters who will be offering up ways and means and possibilities for peace throughout the summer. Do come and be a peace-maker with us!

Yesterday, I met my friend Max at the Passport Office to sign his passport application as his guarantor. Max is off to New York in a couple of weeks to take part in Requiem for a Lost Girl – it is a production being mounted by the amazing Onalea Gilbertson whose original production, Two Bit Oper eh Shun? had its world premiere here in Calgary in the spring of 2010. After two years of hard work preparing the stage for its off-broadway debut, Two Bit has become Requiem and the cast has shifted from being a collaboration of Calgary musicians, artists, and residents of homeless shelters, to a mixed cast from New York, and Calgary.

Max, and his guitar-playing friend John, are two original performers from the Calgary Drop-In who are flying to New York to participate.

As Max and I waited for his turn at the wicket to submit his application, we chatted about this year’s production and the excitement of flying to New York. He’s never been before. Never experienced the craziness of the Big Apple and all it has to offer. He is excited.

“Onalea loves the subway rappers and break-dancers and wants to include some in the show,” he told me. “I’ve decided to write a rap piece and weave The Manifesto into it so that there’s a continuity that makes sense.”

The Manifesto is the original piece Max wrote for Two Bit that weaves the story of Onalea’s friend from her teen years who ran to the streets and was lost. It is a haunting piece. Surreal. Evocative.  Weaving rap into the threads of sadness and hopefulness that The Manifesto evokes will be a challenge.

Max loves the creative challenge. The opportunity to stretch his musical muscles beyond the known into the unknown territory of unexplored notes and harmonies rising up and connecting in new sounds, new melodies, new refrains.

He is excited.

As am I.

I worked with Onalea throughout the making of Two Bit. I watched her stretch and grow and expand her knowing through the divine threads of creativity that wove their way in and out of Two Bit to create a powerful story of a young girl’s life lost to the dark side of the street far too soon for her to find her way back into the light.

I am incredibly proud of my friend Onalea. She has been committed to create this opportunity in New York not just for herself, but for everyone who was involved. She has struggled and pinched pennies and tightened belts and overcome obstacles and navigated choppy waters and skirted obstacles to stay the course. Requiem for a Lost Girl will be performed as part of the New York Musical Theatre Festival July 17 & 18 for three shows. Do check it out, and if you happen to be in New York — GO!!!! You will be amazed. And wowed!

Onalea is amazing.

This is her show. Her moment and as is her nature, she is graciously and lovingly sharing it with those who have made a difference in making it happen. Originally, the plan was that I would join her in New York to help with pre-production and to ensure production moves along without mishap. But Onalea doesn’t need my help. She has grown and expanded. Her original fear of how to handle all the intricacies of working with shelters has evaporated. She’s done it. She’s doing it. She is shining!

“What I want is you to be here to share this,” she told me on the phone over the weekend. “I want you here because you deserve to be here.”

I have debated ‘to go or not to go’. To witness such beauty of expression. To be part of such a shining event would be a gift.

Yet, I know it is not my path.

Over the past several months, as I’ve moved further from ‘shelter life’ into the realm of possibility beyond homelessness, my path is clear. My role in Requiem is different from Two Bit. It is simpler. Help with passport applications. Pay the fees. These are all things I can do with ease.

I love my friend Onalea. Love her amazing heart. Her shining spirit. And to be there for her would be a gift — but not as a paid attendee.

To go and laugh and cry from an audience seat. To cheer her on — now that’s another matter.

Yes. Being there as an observer, supporter, cheerer on-er. That would make a difference. For me. For her. And for Max and John, two men of beautiful spirit who have committed to the long road of travelling to New York to be part of something special, to make something special even better.

Onalea is making a difference.

And the biggest difference I can make for her is to cheer her on and say — You Go Girl! You are amazing!

It was a weekend of bliss. Time with my daughter. Time in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Time to kick-back and just be.

It didn’t matter if it rained, or not. (It did both.)

It didn’t matter if we went to the Art Gallery or not (We didn’t.)

It didn’t matter what the weather or time, I got to spend time with a young woman who constantly amazes me with her beauty, wisdom, heart and soul. And I got to do it in a city I love!

What was different this time though, was my awareness of something that is missing from the streets of Calgary. Didn’t used to be — missing on our streets. In fact, it was the visibility of them that helped spur business and social agencies on towards the creation of the Ten Year Plan to End Homelessness.

In Vancouver, panhandlers are everywhere. People holding signs and asking for money. People sitting with upturned hat by bus stops and subway exits. People lying under bridges sleeping. People lying in open doorways. People lying on sidewalks under cardboard boxes. They are everywhere.

And I felt my heart ache.

It was at one time the same here in Calgary. Panhandlers. People lying on park benches.

And then, people united and created a focus on building a path away from accepting it’s okay to have people, our fellow human beings, our fellow citizens’ panhandling and sleeping on our streets.

It’s not okay.

Not because it is ‘bad’ or makes me fearful, or makes me uncomfortable.

It’s not okay because it speaks to our acceptance of ‘us and them’ thinking. It’s not okay because making it okay means we believe there’s nothing we can do.

There’s lots we can do.

We can create better social assistance programs that help those with mental health issues live in community with dignity. We can provide better ‘basic needs’ funding to help families create well-being so that our youth can grow and thrive in our society.

We can, as they’ve done in Calgary, co-operate between agencies and emergency responders to build an infrastructure that respects the human being and works to provide the chronically homeless housing first solutions that give them the dignity they crave without having to jump through hoops first.

We can change our attitudes.

Recently, the Drop-In where I used to work, announced the purchase of a hotel. Their intent — to house 100+ clients in single room occupancy style accommodation. It’s a ‘pay for service’ model. Which means — these individuals will have jobs. They’ll be working.

What it doesn’t mean is they will not drink, or live their lives like monks. Like you. Like me. Like everyone, they too will be free to sit in their home and have a beer, or simply put their feet up and kick back with friends. Like you, me, everyone, they will have the choice of what to do with their leisure time.

These are not criminals. Nor are they animals. Yet, to read the media stories about how the community responded at the public meetings the DI held with the community, you would think a band of criminals was descending upon the community armed with ill-intentions and weapons of mass destruction.

Not so.

These are human beings like you and me and everyone. These are fellow citizens looking to get along, get by, get on with living their lives as best they can. Sure, they’re learned a lot on the road of hard knocks. They’ve fallen down. Many times. And every time they’ve fallen, the struggle to get back up has grown more daunting. Self-defeatism. Despair. Futility have all set in.

They’re not looking to break the law. Hell. If they were, they’d be taking it into their own hands and demanding justice!

They don’t have that kind of energy.

What each person looking to live in the DIs new facility has is a need to find some space of their own, a community where they feel accepted and part of ‘the whole’, and a bit of dignity to go along with the meager paycheque they earn through doing the jobs you and me and them over there don’t want to do. Jobs that keep the economic engines of our society running. Digging ditches. Pounding hammers. Moving boxes and pallets and rolling bins of products destined for the shelves of the stores where you and I go to buy the things we want because we can.

I saw many panhandlers on the weekend and was saddened. Not just by what is happening in their lives but rather, by one city’s lack of response to a crisis of the human kind.

Wake up Vancouver. You can do better than that! Wake up and take care of those who have fallen on your streets. For in their fall, we are all brought down to street level. And at that level, it’s hard to see blue skies when they break through the rains.

Today’s guest blogger does not need much introduction — if you know me, if you have been reading here, you know how incredibly proud I am of my daughters — they are amazing.

When my daugthers travelled, they both kept a blog. Alexis has intermittently kept hers going — and has started a new one which I shared from a couple of weeks ago — How I survived myself.  This is from her original How I survived myself blog — and she has given me permission to repost it here. It’s about the power of a hug to make a connection, to make a difference.

Thank you Alexis for being a song in my heart that never stops singing the sweet beautiful  notes of love that connect our hearts, forever and a day.

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My Secret Canada

 by Alexis McDonald

The other night on my commute home, I spent the hour long trip talking with a young man visiting here from Mexico City to improve his English. After asking what bus he needed to take, he asked me if I was Canadian. “Yup.” I said casually. “Wow.” He replied with a look of awe. He explained to me he had been here one week and was so amazed by this country. By its beauty, its people, and its order. “My country” he said, as sadness crossed his face, “my country is not like this.”

He went on to tell me about the corruption, the poverty, the fear that robs his countrymen of their joy. I asked him if he planned on staying in Canada. He shook his head. “No, I want to be a journalist. I want to share the stories of my people. I want to open the worlds eyes, how do you say…?” He stopped, searching for the right words, “Bring peace?” I nodded in understanding. “And the food is better there.” He added with a smile.

We spent the rest of the ride talking about Canada, about Mexico, about music (we both agreed on everything but heavy metal), and about snow. He was going to Whistler in the morning. He had fears that his blood might freeze.

“Goodbye Fernando.” I called out as he departed. ‘Good luck with the snowboarding.” And in my heart I wished him luck with the peace too.

As I walked down the safe streets to my warm home with the ocean behind me and snow capped peaks before me, I could see the Canada that he sees.

But I see another Canada too. A secret Canada that Vanoc doesn’t want the world to see.

Sitting in Starbucks the next day I try to write words across the pages of my journal. I am angry. I have just read a story by my mother about a series of events back home in Calgary. A group of individuals, who happen to be homeless, gathered together to volunteer at a charity event. Their help was refused when the coordinator read their addresses as the Drop-In centre. I am angry. I am stunned. I am without words. Does a person lose their right to help when they lose their home? What kind of world is this when ones worth is determined by a street name? What kind of Canada?

The man next to me looks up from the Intro to Buddhism he has been reading and asks if he can ask me a question? I don’t point out that he just did and nod yes.

“Are you Canadian?” He inquires in his broken English. “I am” I say, half expecting “wow” to be his reply. Instead he motions to the street at the man sitting on the pavement with a cardboard sign and an upturned hat set on the ground before him. “Why are there so many homeless?”

Here, the sadness crosses my face,” I wish I knew the answer.” He shakes his head “It just seems like a pretty shitty job.”  The irony of his earnest comment seems to escape him and he goes on, “Maybe he knows something we don’t. He is like a monk. Very quiet. Very still.”

“You mean, maybe he’s just meditating?” I smile.

“It is not like this where I am from. There are no homeless.”

Minoo goes on to tell me that he is from Korea, here, like Fernando, to learn English. He likes it here. But only when it’s raining. It is too quiet in the sun. We sit in silence for a moment looking at the people on the street pass the man praying for change. They walk by him, heads held high, a glance down only to avoid stepping right on him. He is invisible. A secret Canadian.

Minoo breaks the silence “Maybe he is searching too.” I glance from his book to his eyes, “Is that why you’re really here? To find meaning?”

“Your eyes are very brown.” He says, dodging my question. Again he says, “Very brown” as if it is something extraordinary. “Mine are black.” And I look into his dark eyes.

“Life’s got to mean more than just smoking weed and searching for pretty faces in a crowded bar.” He says, a silent pain lacing each word. “I think I’ll go to Australia next.”

“It’s very sunny there.” I point out and he laughs.

“Goodbye, Alexis from Canada.”

“Goodbye Minoo. Goodluck on your search.”

I gather my belongings and head out onto the street. The man is still there. “Hey do you have any change? He says without really looking at me. I stop. I want to say “I see you.” but I don’t have the words. I don’t have change either so instead I offer up the only thing I can think of to give. “I can’t help you in the finance department, but I have a hug if you want one.”

“Pardon?”

“A hug.”

His face breaks into a smile. “Really?” He asks incredulously. “Yeah, I’ll take one.”

And I wrap my arms around his worn coat and for a moment we are both just two Canadians standing heart to heart.

It is Saturday. The day after the ‘really big shew’ and I am content.

It is Saturday. The day I’ve specifically set aside to celebrate heroes.

I am in Vancouver. My daughter performed last night, and she was amazing! She is a hero, or as one of her friends said, ‘a rock star!’

Yesterday, the airport was busy at 7 in the morning. Travellers trying to get ahead of the weekend activities catching early flights to visit family, friends, new places, far away lands. People strode purposefully through the terminal, some wandered as if lost. I flew WestJet — they truly are amazing. I’d checked-in online so had my boarding pass, but dislike intensely dragging a suitcase with me so had one bag to check. The line-up was long and ‘serpenty’. WestJet employees walked throughout the crowd, asking people if they needed help, directing them to that line or this one, keeping the wave of humanity on the move, flowing. What could have been a grumpy, heavy atmosphere was light and airy. Purposeful.

WestJet ground attendants and flight attendants are heroes!

In Vancouver, I took the CanadaLine into the core where Alexis was meeting me at the Yaletown terminal. With each step towards the inner city from the airport, the train car got more and more crowded. In front of me, a young man sat, headset covering his ears, listening to his music. At one stop, an older woman got on, he promptly jumped up and offered her his seat. As I got off the car I stopped to comment, “That was nice of you to that,” I said. And he smiled.

That young man is a hero!

As Alexis and I walked from her apartment to Cardero’s where we were meeting a friend for lunch, we stopped to take a photo by a pretty water feature in a park along the way. A woman walking her dog approached and asked if she could take our photo. I got to hold her dog and Alexis and I laughed as she took the photo. Now…. I’d post it right now except I haven’t downloaded to her computer. Tomorrow!  Stay tuned 🙂

The event where Alexis sang last night was a fundraiser for the Canadian Olympic Sailing Team. Organized by members of the Vancouver Yacht Club, it was a fun event with a good cause. The organizers, those who turned out in support and those who donated auction items, as well as the Yacht Club which staged the event…

You are all heroes!

It was a good day yesterday — a good week, but I’ve left my computer at home and don’t have my file of ‘heroes’ that I compile during the week — so this one is all about in the moment events!

Have a wonderful day. I know I will — we’re off to Granville Island and the the Vancouver Art Gallery. Perfection!