We must be the change

It is just one hummingbird. A tiny green creature of exquisite beauty whose wings vibrate at such speed it can hold its beak in the tip of a flower and sip the nectar in a few seconds.

I am sitting to the side, just three feet from the red flower that has attracted this tiny creature. I am sitting quietly in the garden, not reading, not doing, just being present to the world in that moment. And in that moment, this beautiful bird appears to tease my heart, to awaken my awe, to touch my spirit.

And I am reminded of Nobel Peace Prize recipient, Wangari Maathai’s who passed away last year at the age of 71 after a lifetime of creating change in the world, “I will be a hummingbird” story.

I must do the best I can, said the tiny hummingbird to the forest animals who stood helplessly watching a mighty fire consume their homes. They laughed and mocked the hummingbird as she flew back and forth from the stream, picking up what water she could in the tiny beak and then flying back to douse the fire with it. “You are too small to make a difference to that mighty fire,” they told her. And she kept flying. Back and forth. Back and forth. Picking up water. Dropping water. Doing the best she could do to make a difference.

Sitting on my deck, watching that tiny hummingbird, I am reminded of the need, no the necessity, to do what I can to make a difference in this world. My playing small does not serve the universe, nor does it serve my life. My playing small only keeps me mired in the ennui of not living my life 100% accountable for my experience; 100% in the game of living life in the rapture of now, living it up for all I’m worth.

It is a drive we all share. To experience lives of meaning, purpose, contribution.

To share our gifts so others will be inspired to share theirs.

To light up the world so others can find their way in the dark.

What gifts are you sharing? What light are you shining to illuminate the path for others to follow out of the dark?

Here’s a simple exercise to help you find your answers:

Ask yourself, “What do I not want to be known for when I die?”  Write down your thoughts.

Now, ask yourself, “What do I want to be known for while I am alive?”  Write down your thoughts.

Now, write down one thing you can do today to be known for that which you want to be remembered for. If it’s ‘kind’, write down one kind thing you can do for another today, and then do it.

If you want to be remembered as a writer — write something today and then…. share it. Send it along to others.

If you want to be remembered as a great gardener — go out into your garden, weed it, thin it out. In fact, share some plants from your garden. I recently had a woman share some lilies from her garden. I planted them last night and am in awe of the power of her gift to warm my heart, to connect us, and ultimately, to create more beauty in my garden — and hers.

We all have gifts to share. And I don’t mean the gifts we buy. I mean our internal gifts. Our words. Actions. Thoughts. Deeds. Simple acts of kindness. Gentle words of comfort.

And in those gifts, our difference radiates out into the world in never-ending ripples of peace, hope, love and joy.

Sharing our gifts we create a world of difference because — sometimes that is all we can do to put out the fires of discord. Sometimes, that is the best we can do to create harmony in a world of strife.

A tiny hummingbird visited my garden last night and I am reminded that no matter how big or small, I must do my best to create the change I want to see in the world. And I want to see, to experience, to know more peace, hope, love and joy in this world we share.

And to inspire you… here is a short video of The Hummingbird Story as told by Wangari Maathai.

in the backyard before night fall

After picking my sister, Anne, up from the airport the other night we spent a delightful dinner with my youngest daughter at one of our favourite restaurants. Comfortably full from dinner, we dropped Liseanne off at her condo and returned home to sit in the backyard and enjoy the beautiful evening.

Dusk was settling into night. The stars were beginning to peek out from the velvety blanket above and the quiet hum of traffic was fading into the deepness of the night.

Wrapped in blankets, Anne and I chatted and sipped a glass of wine as we reminisced and laughed about our lives — especially those childhood moments the two of us shared. Being 2 and a half years apart, we were always up to something. As children, getting in trouble was our middle name and always, one would threaten to tattle-tale on the other and we would bribe the other to ‘not tell’. We had one doll that exchanged hands so many, many times neither of us can remember who the real owner was in the first place.

As ‘the youngest’ it was Anne’s and my job to do the dishes. Back then, we didn’t have a dishwasher so the only recourse was to wash them in a sink full of soapy water. I washed. She dried. Or, if we happened to be in the ‘don’t tell’ mode, we exchanged jobs or one would do both while the other looked on and supervised. Our kitchen had a door we could close so nobody was any wiser to which role we were playing. Washer. Dryer. Provocateur. Nobody dared come in any way because washing dishes was our best excuse to do what we loved best. Sing to our hearts’ content. And mostly, the rest of the house avoided hearing us.

Deep in the night

Sitting on the deck with my sister, walking down memory lane, telling tales on each other, I was reminded of those childhood moments where it was just the two of us, a sink full of soapsuds, a stack of dirty dishes, a drying towel and cupboards to fill. It was never a straight line between drying rack and cupboard. There was always room for a few pirouettes, a few notes of “Alberta Bound” or “Scarborough Fair” or any of the many songs we knew, and loved to sing together, as we washed and dried and spun about and lifted glasses high and dipped down low, our voices following our body movements, up and down the scales, in and out of harmonies.

We were awesome we believed. And nobody could tell us any different.

The other night, my sister and I sang together in a different way. But sing together we did. My iPad primed to play my favourite tunes, Anne asked, have you heard… and she named a musician I’d never heard. Thank you, YouTube! There they were. We listened for a bit to a tune, and then moved onto the next. We sang along with the music. We sang without the music. Quietly, I might add. We do have neighbours.

And it didn’t matter. We laughed softly in the night, our voices humming and singing. It didn’t matter the years since those childhood days in the kitchen. There we were again, two conspirators singing our hearts out.

And we were awesome! Nobody can tell us any different!

Music has always made a difference in my life. It is the thread that ties me to my family, to my past, to shared experiences of being just the two of us against the world, to memories of tight spots that a song, a note has lifted me out of, or pulled me away from. Music binds us fast. To the past. To our hearts. To who we are inside. Wild and passionate notes of life springing up to be sung, to be heard, to be shared.

I sat on the deck with my sister and sang in the night and the stars shone more brightly and the world spun more comfortably on its axis. All was in tune. All was as it should be and always is when we share the music of our hearts.

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And here to take you down memory lane, or to create a memory for you, whichever the case may be, is one of our favourites… Simon and Garfunkel’s “Scarborough Fair” set to another classic, The Graduate.

I am shaking things up today — you know, a change is a good as a rest and all that.

Plus, I hadn’t organized a Guest blog for today :)!  Which brings me back to the question — if you are interested in being a guest blogger, the guidelines are really simple and easy. Fame. Fortune. Fans. and all that stuff await you.

Okay. Maybe not fame and fortune, but you’ll find fans and definitely GRATITUDE and a sense of the wonder at the joy of making a difference in another’s life with your words and thoughts on what it means for you, ‘to make a difference’.

Seriously, I’d love to have your submission. It only needs to be 300 to 700 words. Any angle on making a difference that you choose. Whether it’s something you’ve done or experienced. Something you feel or think about making a difference, or a difference you’d like to see in the world. The slate is open, and so is the Sunday Guest Blog — open to your submission.

In the meantime, I thought I’d share a powerful quote from Leonardo da Vinci who said, sometime in his life between 1452-1519 —

“I have been impressed with the urgency of doing. Knowing is not enough; we must apply. Being willing is not enough, we must do.”

To be the difference we want to see in the world, we must do that which we want to see.

To make a difference, we must do.

The desire to make a difference in the world is inherent in all of us. We are born to make a difference. Our very presence makes a difference because in our being present in the world, we change the flow of life around us — in our families, our communities, our schools… everywhere we go, we bring our energy, our knowing, our thoughts, our actions — make them count.

And the Sunday BLog is one easy way to make a difference!

Go ahead. Try it.

Just post me a comment and I’ll email you back.  Or simply email me your desire/post — and I’ll put it up.

Thanks!

Have a beautiful and blessed Sunday.

This is a bit of a different Heroes in our Midst today.

There was a hero. A man whose feats were so unbelievable, he inspired millions of others to get up and ‘do’. To take the challenge. To fight on. To never give up.

He received many awards and rewards for his perseverance, his stamina, his choice to not quit but to forge on, in spite of  the steepness of the road, the darkness of the weather and times. In spite of all that life threw at him, he kept fighting and climbed the highest pinnacle of success he could achieve.

And in the process, millions of others chose to not give in, or give up. Millions of others chose to pick up the gauntlet of making a difference, of being the difference they want to see in the world.

Lance Armstrong was stripped of his medals yesterday. And while it has not been proven in a court of law that he doped to achieve his best, in the court of our shared human condition, it would appear he did.

I don’t know that I wouldn’t have done the same in his position. I don’t know that I wouldn’t have given in to the lure of the drugs that could give me the edge to beat out my opponents, especially knowing my opponents were using and doing the same.

I don’t know.

I do know, what he accomplished through and after his battle with cancer is still remarkable. Inspiring. Exhilarating.

I do know that in his quest to not give into the disease, he inspired millions of others to do the same. And in his drive to use his fame to raise awareness and funds to fight the disease, he achieved huge success. I know people who have taken the Ride to Conquer Cancer because of Lance Armstrong’s inspiration. And I know how powerful that ride was in helping them to fight the disease that was eating away at their life or the life of someone they loved. Whether they lived to tell the tale of beating their disease, or not, their fight was inspired by this man’s drive to not let the disease get him. And in that act, he gave them hope, a sense of purpose, a belief in what they could achieve as long as they didn’t give up.

In the end, it is drugs that helped all of them beat cancer. And I know there’s nothing wrong with that.

For years I saw Lance Armstrong as a super-hero. A larger than life persona who even through his trademark arrogance, accomplished what no other man had ever achieved.

He may not be ‘super’ today, but he is still a hero. Because for me, Lance Armstrong fought a disease and won and he helped millions of others do the same.

Anyone can ride a bike. Not everyone beats cancer. And in life, beating cancer is the greater win.

It is raining this morning. Cool, soothing moisture falling from the sky. “The angels are crying,” I used to tell my daughters when they were little. And when the angels cry, we must dance in the rain to bring out their sunshiney smiles again!

Have you danced in the rain lately? Have you danced?

I found a new blogger this morning — aren’t you in awe of how much amazing goodness there is to read on the web? — Thanks to my friend Diana Schwenk (again) who lead me to Joanna at Momentum of Joy and her blog today, In the Mirror. A delightful ode to not ‘feeling’ old or having to act your age, Joanna encourages all of us to bring out the child within and play with her/him today.

It’s raining this morning. A perfect morning to dance.

Dancing is powerful. There is no destination in the dance. No need to get from point A to B. It’s always about the rhythm, the motion, the emotion of finding the beat and being one with its call to set free, let go, let loose the constraints of the daily grind to grind it out through the rhythm of your heart beating in time.

To dance freely is to not hear the music but to feel it. To let it move you from the inside out. To not be in tune with the notes, but to get between the notes and your thinking mind and fall into step with not being in step with the world but at one with your being present in the world.

I heard a man interviewed on CBC radio yesterday — or a snippet of an interview before I had to get out of the car as I’d reached my destination and needed to be on time for a meeting. He was talking about silence.

“There is no such thing as silence,” he said. “The world vibrates at a certain frequency and because it is always vibrating, there is no such thing as silence. Vibration by its very nature produces sound.”

Can you hear it? The earth’s vibrational hum? Perhaps that is what we do when we move into stillness, into meditation. We still the noise outside to hear the vibrations within. And in our deepened place of hearing, we attune our hearts and bodies with the earth’s pulse and become centered on our natural rhythm within, without being drawn by gravitational pulls into discord and unease.

It is what happens for me when I dance. I let go of thinking I know the beat, and let my body guide me into finding its own rhythm within and between each note. In Gabriel Roth’s five rhythms work, the final aspect of ‘the wave’ is ‘Silence’. You dance freely, moving through Flowing, the feminine energy into Staccato. Sharp, angular motions that rise the crest of the wave into Chaos where the feminine and masculine duke it out in the discordance of letting your body fall through each note. Exhausted, you naturally descend into Lyrical, that place where all is in balance, in the flow, in harmony as your pulse quiets and you find yourself sinking into the gift of Silence.

In Silence, you seek nothing, want nothing, need nothing. In Silence, you simply rest as the body calls you to be present to the space between the notes.

Ah yes. It is raining today.

Time to let go and be childlike in my wonder of life. In my awe of this beautiful, precious gift of my life and your life and life all around me teeming with energy and noise and beauty and harmony and discord and joy and sorrow and all the rainbow of emotions that swirl around and in and under and out and through me. Always.

It is raining today.

Time to dance!

And… this blog is inspired by my friend Glynn at Faith. Fiction. Friends. who irregularly shares his Pleasantly Disturbed Fridays which was inspired by Duane Scott who appears to be on holidays, somewhere… 🙂

See — all things are connected. One idea sparks another and a thought is born and spreads out to become something of wonder to witness and savour and share!  What we think and share makes a difference. Thanks Glynn!

There is a sound to peace rising. It hums sweetly, a gentle murmur of assent as hearts align and spirits take flight to places never before imagined.

There is a feel to peace descending. Buttery softness melting into a river of calm, it flows through and around, over and under, drawing me ever closer to that place where I become One with the Oneness of my being all that I am meant to be in this world of wonder.

I read on a comment at the amazing Julie Goyders, “Wings and Things” blog this morning that set my mind a-wondering….  Victoria wrote in response to Julie’s post, Blogging is writing, “I wonder if the internet will yet become the way to peace between different religions & races.”

What a powerful thought. To use this medium to create more of what we all need in this world. Peace. Love. Harmony and joy.

To use this billions upon billions of bits and bytes of data floating around in cyberspace to create a web of peace that cannot be broken. Cannot be undone. Cannot be destroyed.

Imagine. A world of peace.

Imagine. Peace all around.

Imagine. Peace  In your heart. Your hearth. Your world.

Last night I got inspired once again by our capacity to create what we imagine. Our band of ‘peace angels’ met to talk about upcoming events in Summer of Peace Calgary. Once again, Judy Atkinson of Circles of Rhythm has stepped into the light of bringing peace to the banks of the Bow River. Saturday will be her third annual Drumming on the Bow — and while I can’t be there in the afternoon (we are celebrating my mother’s 90th birthday!), my spirit will be peaceful knowing, the beat of peace is reverberating along the river, out into the streets and homes of everyone in this city.

It was, as it always is, an inspiring evening of connecting into a circle that has one intention — to create peace where ever, however possible. To make peace, in our hearts, our minds, our families, our homes we must first accept — Peace is possible. Peace is within us to create, to be, to live.

There is always peace. It is a choice we make with every act, every word, every thought. It is a question we can ask with all our intention focused on peace in every circumstance in our life — Will this create harmony or discord?

And if the answer is ‘discord’, we get to choose to do otherwise. To take a different path. To drop the angry response. To let go of our weapons of self-defense and move into that place where peace reigns within our hearts so that we can radiate peace with every breath.

Peace is possible. It’s believing it is that makes the difference between accepting what is as what must always be, or knowing, what is, is not forever when we choose to walk away from discord and flow into the peace our hearts yearn to know.

Blessings and peace on your day.

Namaste.

Ellie’s new spot in the garden

Ellie is an attention hog. Okay, I mean pooch, but she is happiest when there are many people in the house, giving her pets and pats and loads of love. Oh, and if you happen to drop a cracker or a piece of cheese…. Bonus!

Last night Ellie got her fill. From my sister and her husband dropping by in the late afternoon, to the five ladies who gathered on the deck for an evening of conversation, Ellie was in the centre of it all. And while I may pretend that’s why I invite people over, the truth is, I love to entertain, to connect with people over a glass of wine, a shared meal and laughter.

It was a spontaneous decision — to invite women over for an evening on the patio. I’d spent the weekend painting an old wicker love seat and two bamboo chairs that had lost any appeal. They’d moved far beyond the ‘distressed look’ into ‘headed for the dump heap despair’ when I decided to give them one last kick at life. Six cans of black spray paint later, and they are good for another season in the garden.

It was a great lesson. In the act of refreshing furniture, I got to sink into the joy of the moment of creation. To simply be present in the act of washing and sanding and painting. No agenda. No need to be anywhere other than right there, in the backyard creating value in something that had appeared to have lost all its purpose.

And in that moment of being present, I discovered something true for me — I had intended to paint all weekend. But, it was so beautiful outside, I didn’t want to spend my time indoors. Hauling all my paints outside was an option — but I had plans for Saturday night and wasn’t inspired to set-up outside, tear down and start all over again on Sunday. Instead, I decided to paint the wicker love seat. It was still painting just not as free-form as on a canvas. That’s when I discovered the joy of simply being in the act of creation. It didn’t matter what I was painting. What mattered was that I was painting. I was putting my body into motion.

In the act of creating, my mind stilled into that quiet place where the world recedes and I am simply in the moment, right where I’m at. Consciously being present to the completeness of the experience, without seeking perfection anywhere other than what was happening all around and within me.

In a monthly newsletter I receive from Laura Day, author of The Circle, she wrote recently, “The idea is not to have a perfect experience when you embody and join energy, it is to have a complete one.”

I had a complete experience yesterday. Alone in the garden with Ellie lying on the grass, I painted and fussed over pillow placement and angles of furniture, seeking to ‘get it just right’. I love that feeling of a ‘job well done’ when completed, my heart sighs with contentment.

Later, when it was time to get ready for my friends, I spent time in the kitchen creating food to share with friends, making sure colours and textures and tastes complemented each other on plates and platters that enhanced the food through their beauty.

My heart was happy. As evening settled into dark, we sat in the glow of candles flickering all around, laughing and sharing stories, and being part of the wonder that happens when women connect in a circle of friendship.

In the completeness of that circle of friends, I experienced perfection. And in that perfection, the difference I felt was in the lightness of my heart imbued with the joy of knowing, I am connected to a world of beauty all around.