I know when I drive to Police HQ to sign a contract for a course I will be teaching in the fall that I have a meeting at 4:30. I am excited. This is work I love. Work I know makes a difference.

I’ll go sign the contract, go home, let Ellie out, go to my meeting and when I get home, go to bed early. A good night’s sleep and I’ll feel better, I tell myself.

I am really tired. Driving a full day, a broken night’s sleep the night before and one the night after have taken a toll. I am tired.

I have an hour between signing the contract and my meeting to grab a quick nap. Ample time for me to restore my equilibrium and energy I tell myself.

I fall asleep.

At 7pm, I wake up.

I do not remember I had a meeting that I have missed.

I am groggy. Disoriented. I take Ellie for a walk. I do not remember my phone. Which is okay because I made a deal with myself that I only use it on walks to take photos. Walks are restorative, me time. Ellie traipses along and I semi-sleep-walk. There are lots of photos to take, but I don’t think about taking them and don’t realize my phone is at home until I get home.

When I remember my meeting it is too late. I am home again and puttering quietly around the house, organizing, unpacking, doing laundry. C.C. phones. We chat and suddenly, in the midst of our conversation, I remember. I had a meeting.

Oh no!

I missed it! We even rescheduled our regular Wednesday night meeting because I couldn’t be there. I even emailed with one of the individual’s involved earlier in the day. I closed my email with, I’ll be there. Looking forward to connecting.

That’s the thing about driving for a full day bookended by two nights of really poor sleep. My mind goes to mush. And once mushy, there’s no way to unmush it except… sleep and time.

I phone. Leave a message. My apologies…..

A friend calls. We chat for a few minutes and they mention forgiving themselves for the past. “It’s not anything specific,” they say. “It’s just, I know I hurt people…”

Self-forgiveness is a daily act of grace, I write later in my journal when I go to bed.

I sleep better.

Brain is not as mushy this morning.

Sleep and time make a difference in the mushiness in  my brain, but even time can’t undo itself. Yesterday is gone, as is the meeting I missed.

I let down three people who mean a lot to me, I owe them an apology.

And for myself, self-forgiveness makes a difference.  My intent was not to break a commitment. My intent was to be there. Mushy-mind syndrome took over and I fell short of my desired outcome.

Begin again.

Always begin again.

Today, I commit to keeping my commitments. To being conscious of what I’m doing, of what I say, of commitments I make and my need to keep them. Today, I commit to being my best and accept that yesterday, that was my best and forgive myself for those moments where my actions did not reflect what I wanted to do, be, have in the world.

And I begin again. I give myself the gift of grace. I forgive myself.

It makes a difference.

.

Sleep and time make a difference.

I am heading east again this morning.  Leaving the sparkling waters and green slopes of Vancouver to return to big sky country.

I love this city.  The greenery, rich verdant hills, flowers andthe water.  Definitely the waters.

But I love Calgary too. Big sky. Wide open spaces.  The Rockies lining the horizon. The prairies rolling away into yesterday far to the east.

My roots are there. Dug into the prairie soils.  Planted deep at the edge of the Rockies.  Most of my adult life has been lived in Calgary.  My family, friends, community is there and I am grateful to be going home.

As always though when I leave this beautiful city I have mixed feelings of joy and sadness, especially now that I leave my eldest daughter here. This is her home. Her city, she says. The prairies have lost her, but I never will. She is always at home in my heart.

It has been a quick trip — but very worthwhile. Time in the sun, by the water, with people I love.

It makes a difference. Getting away, kicking back, spending time walking and talking and just being together.

Today, while at Lonsdale Quay, I bought several peace bracelets from a woman from Tibet. We talked about peace and the need for it in our world. We talked about women and our voices and our need to use them wildly and passionately in our world. And we talked about freedom.

“I have a gift for you,” she said as I paid her for the bracelets. And she disappeared into her stall, came back with a package wrapped up in paper and handed it to me

“This is for you,” she said. “So you can make peace in the world

I opened the package and inside was a beautiful carved amulet with a dove and Peace on Earth carved into it.

“May I give you a hug?” I asked.

She smiled, nodded her head. We gently wrapped our arms around eachother and we stood, two women, making peace.

It made a difference, that hug, her gift, our connection.

He is sitting on the sidewalk, back up against a wall. Older man. Grey beard. Wrinkled face. Red hoodie, jeans, a soiled cap outstretched in his hands. I drop a Tooonie into his cap. Smile, wish him a good day and move along.

My eldest daughter, Alexis, looks at me surprised. “I thought you don’t give to panhandlers anymore,” she comments.

I sigh. “He looked so sad,” I tell her.

“He did, didn’t he? Look really sad.”

Money won’t help his sadness but I didn’t really care. It was all I had to offer.

Later, my cousin’s daughter, Elise, and I are sitting on a bench in Gastown withe my sister Anne who has joined us after work. We’ve been all over. From the west end we took an Aquabus to Granville Island, wandered around, had lunch and then hopped on another Aquabus over to the bottom of Yaletown. We walked up, took Elise for a tour of Vancouver’s amazing Public Library (one of my favourite places) and then walked over to Gastown where Alexis had a meeting and Anne was meeting up with us.

We are sitting on the bench taking a break from walking all over this oh so walkable city. I see Alexis walking towards us, smile and wave and a woman, broken teeth, dirty hair, tired body stops and thinks I’m calling out to her.

“Excuse me ma’am,” she starts and rolls into her planned script of why she needs money. Need to get to Coquitlam. Hoping to spend the night there. Have stuff there. My belongings. So tired. So…. Please can you help?

Alexis has joined us by then and offers the woman a bus ticket.

The woman looks at me and says, “Can’t you just check to see if you have a Toonie please?” (A Toonie is a $2 coin)

I don’t really want to. I don’t really believe her story, in fact, I want to challenge her to tell the truth and then I’ll give her money.

But I do none of that. I find a Toonie in my wallet and give it to her. I remember a man I used to date who was once an alcoholic with a million dollar cocaine habit. “You gotta give to the junkies,” he used to say. “Not getting their fix could lead them to doing something desperate.”

I know he was right.

I give the woman the Toonie and she continues on her way and for a moment, I feel the heaviness of knowing her next step will be to get high once she gets the money. And then, I say a little prayer for her and me. “Bless her. Forgive me.” Whether giving the money was right or wrong, is not the issue. She is a fellow human being in distress. She does not need my criticism, complaints nor condemnation. Along with my courteousness and consideration, she deserves my compassion.

Handing out a Toonie can only be done with compassion.

As it suggests in the little journal I bought yesterday, “One Good Deed A Day” — Kindness is contagious.

There are   lots of panhandlers in Vancouver. If I shift my perspective from seeing them as annoying, pushy, persistent, and see them through eyes of kindness and compassion, I see the human being, the lost soul, the person struggling to make sense of a life that they never dreamed would be theiir’s — lost, addicted, wandering the streets of one of the most beautiful citiies in the world  unable to see the beauty all around.

When I shift my eyes to look through compassion and kindness, I see, they are no different than me, only the circumstances of their lives are different.  More challenging. More dangerous. Less loving and filled with beauty.  Yet, regardless of the circumstances of ourr lives,  we are  all coonnected.. We must  look out for each other..

And sometimes, all I can do to make a difference is share a Toonie and a smile. A kind word and a gentle heart.  All I  can do is be myself and let  them be who they are  in this moment in time  without  my judgments getting in the way  of our connection.

Namaste.

I am sitting in a comfy chair in the Starbucks at Lonsdale Quay in N. Vancouver. The sky is streaked with white wispy clouds. The sun casts a pale lemon yellow light. The air is damp from the rain that fell during the night and I am feeling at ease.

I drove out yesterday with my daughter Alexis and my cousin’s daughter, Elise, who is here visiting from France. At 15 I’m not sure Elise understood the concept of the distance of this country — an 11 hour drive did not equate to sitting in the car for 11 hours to her — like Alexis, she dozed and read and watched a movie on her ipod and oohed and aahed at the scenery.

I am a proud Canadian and this is one vast, beautiful country.

My sister has left for work, her husband has gone over to Gabriola Island to check out their house there and Elise still sleeps. Which explains why I’m aat one of my favourite places this morning. As I drove here, I stopped to let two pedeestrians cross the streets. Surprised, they waved and smiled and crossed. I waved at a driver trying to cross through the intersection to pass in front of me. He waved, smiled and zipped through.

I laughed.

I figure I’m doing my bit to support the image of Albertans as courteous  drivers!

It’s so easy, this making a difference. Be considerate, courteous and compassionate to others on the road of life.

Do not criticize, complain or condemn!

Always live the 3 Cs of making a difference — Celebrate. Create (better). Collaborate.

II am off for a day with Alexis and Elise, wandering Granville Island. The Seawall. The westend. We’ll meet up with my sisster later, walk around Gastown and Robson Street and then dinner.Spending time with people I love always makes a difference!

Hope your day is made different through celebrating, creating and collaborating with those you love, and everyone you meet on this road of life feels your difference as sweet lemony sunshine streaming down upon their face.

Namaste.

I first met Howard Parsons, today’s guest blogger, just a few short months ago when I went to my first Summer of Peace Calgary 2o12 meeting. I immediately knew I had a friend for life and, I understood why Kerry loves him so much. He is straight forward, intent on being his best, a natural teacher and caring and giving. Howie, writes Hopeful Notes from Howie J., every morning — short, to the point actionable ideas on how to live your best life yet. Howie continually strives to create better in the world.

Today, Howie shares his warm, wonderful brilliance with all of us here. Do drop over to Howie’s blog and sign-up to receive his daily notes. They’re powerful and inspiring!

I Have A Dream

by Howard Parsons

I have a dream to bring so much hope and inspiration to the world that the world will be a better place when I leave it.

Do you have a dream? I don’t mean the kind you have at night although they can be informative; I mean a dream for your life that is so big you need help from all sorts of resources to make it happen.

I think every child has a dream for their life. When they play, they make up stuff and play in it with so much attention that it is real to them. Then someone comes along and says “stop that daydreaming, it will get you nowhere.” The child learns to adapt to their surroundings, to follow the rules and play the game of life the way it has been taught by elders.

You can change the world. One person, that’s you, can make a difference wherever you are. You just choose it.

I know one of the challenges you might have is that you will have forgotten your dreams. You will have forgotten how to dream. The day to day shuffle of life with all its responsibilities and energy drains leaves little time to consider having a dram.

Now is the time to pick it up again. It doesn’t matter how old or young you are. You just sit down in a quiet space and ask about your dream. You remember being a fireman or an artist or a singer. These were dreams that were put aside for more practical matters.

Now you have your quiet space to bring your dream alive. It may be a whole new dream. Perhaps it is to participate in world peace or to feed the hungry or shelter those who have none.

Your dream is special. It is unique and precious and you need the time to bring it alive now. Take the time from your busy life and give it a try. Sit down quietly and ask. It may take some practice but I guarantee you the dream will come. It will be crazy and you might think, “How could I do that?” Don’t let the size, texture or complexity get in your way. Dreams are such that they don’t follow the old rules you and I have been living by for so long.

Dreams are precious and you need to nurture your dream. Let it mature as you move into it and start to see how you can make a difference in this world we call home.

As you think like a kid again, your dream becomes real and big and juicy!  It is alive in you and you start to take it out into the world and make it live for those that see for themselves their dream coming out of your dream. Now you have the multiplier effect and what a wow that is!

You are a special person with a dream inside you. I ask you to go in and get it now because the world needs more dreamers. The world needs your dream. Let it come, courageously take it into the world and see what it possible. There are no rules in the dream game. There is only the possibility of a world that will be better off because you have brought your dream to it. That, my friend, will make a difference in your world and the world of many you have not met yet.

I am Howard Parsons, The Moving On Coach working with men and women struggling with meaning and purpose. I am the author of Hopeful Notes from Howiej which is the reality of my dream to bring hope and inspiration to the world.

http://www.hopefulnotesfromhowiej.com

In Greek mythology, a hero was a being of godlike prowess and beneficence who often came to be honored as a divinity. I encountered a lot of these beings last week, especially yesterday.

We needed 14 tickets for the Grandstand at the Stampede last night. The problem was, as I discovered while standing in line talking with the man in front of me, each person was only allowed to purchase 8. I stood in line for an hour, chatting with the couple in front of me — the people behind had someone in another line and it obviously moved faster than ours because they left. When I mentioned I was stymied about the 8 limit, the couple in front offered to buy the extra ones for me. Bonus!  I stood in line for an hour chatting with a delightful couple and, I got all the tickets I needed.

Sean and Elise, you are heroes!

The show was spectacular. And I mean, SPECTACULAR! After years of my eldest being in the show as a Young Canadian, I can be somewhat critical of the extravaganza that is the Grandstand Show. I also wrote and produced the documentary of The Young Canadians for Global National TV six years ago — I’ve seen the inner workings and gyrations of it all. From acrobats spinning in hoops above the heads of the audience, to Paul Brandt singing his heart out from a disc that hung suspended above the audience as he floated out over the heads of the audience gathered on the tarmac, to world champion hoop dancer Dallas Arcand who road in on a giant, metal sculpture of an eagle that came floating in from the sky, the show was Spectacular. And The Young Canadians shone!

Paul Brandt, Dallas Arcand, The Young Canadians of the Calgary Stampede, and all the other performers, you are all heroes.

Bill Avery has executive produced the Grandstand Show for over fifteen years. He inherited the role from his father who was one of the founders of The Young Canadians. Bill’s enthusiasm for his work, his care of the kids who range in age from 8 to 21, his vision and his creative senses are stellar.

Bill Avery,  and all the production team of the Grandstand Show along with all the volunteers like Kate Thrasher, Stu Reid, Jock Osler — you are heroes!

I was a Young Canadian parent for several years. It takes a lot — driving to and from dance and singing classes, rehearsals, sellling programs during the show, doing this, doing that, to ensure your child turns up when needed, has the right stuff to do what it takes to go through the nine months of being a student in the Young Canadians school of performing arts and then, the gruelling five months leading up to the Grandstand Show. It takes and lot and the parents of these youth give a lot.

All the parents and volunteers and helper outters and sitter-byers and supporters and lifter-uppers of the Young Canadian School of Performing Arts, you are heroes.

When Liseanne, my youngest daughter, went out to collect her boyfriend Ryan and a girlfriend, Ashley who were joining us for the evening but couldn’t arrive until later, a couple approached Ryan and Ashley and gave them their tickets to get onto the grounds. “We don’t need them,” they said and handed them the entrance tickets. When I stood outside the grandstand waiting for some friends to arrive so that I could give them their tickets, a woman approached me and asked if I wanted to buy her extra ticket. I didn’t really need it — though we could only purchase standing room only tickets as everything else was sold out. I pondered the opportunity for a moment as she told me the story of her friend who had cancelled at the last minute and now she had one empty seat beside her. What the heck, I decided. It was a good seat and if any of us got tired of standing, we could share it. I paid her (she didn’t want the full amount, just half) and kept waiting. As I waited, another woman approached me and asked if I had a ticket for sale. We’re four people and only have three, she said. I pondered some more and said, “What the heck!”. I obviously bought it so that she and her friends could all have tickets. I sold her the ticket for what I’d paid.

People who give away their tickets, who sell tickets for less than the printed cost, who act ethically and with integrity in ensuring they pass along their largess are heroes!

It was a fun, awe-inspiring, breathtaking spectacle last night. All the horses made it around the track during the Chuckwagon races. Cowboys oozed their manly stuff, cowchicks flit around the grounds and smiles lit the faces of young and old.

And then, the TransAlta fireworks display lit up the night as Paul Brandt sang and The Young Canadians danced and I stood, one of  22,000 people there to witness the spectacular, my heart pounding with pride. I am Canadian. I am a Calgarian. Yahoo!

It was a night like no other at the Greatest Outdoor Show on Earth!

I am late posting this morning. C.C. and I went off to a barbeque/dance/stampede whoop-up that actually wasn’t…. It was last Thursday.  So, we drove the 45 minutes back into the city, went for a lovely dinner on the Mall and came home to both my daughters and some friends sitting on the deck enjoying the night. I did get to bed at a not too undecent hour but I slept in, awoke, and just made it in time for my 7:30am coffee date with a very dear friend.

Back home, take my daughter to drop off her car for servicing, come back, coffee and breakfast for those still at the house, a delightful hour on the deck chatting and spending quality family time, and now, I’m finally here.

But not for long.

C.C. and I are off to pick up Rush tickets for the Grandstand Show tonight at the Stampede. A busy day of this and that and we are on the run.

Which brings me to the importance of spending time with those you love.

Last night, at dinner, we laughed and shared and talked heart to heart. When we came home, we laughed and shared and chattered about life and living and time passing. We shared memories of ‘remember when’, ‘remember who’, ‘remember how’ and connected to what makes our lives so rich.

This morning, more of the same.

It really makes a difference.

To take the time to stop, breathe, connect.

enjoy and treasure.

Stop. Breathe. Connect.

Enjoy and treasure these moments, the people who mean so much and give such meaning to our lives.

It really makes a difference.

May your day be filled with those moments where you are connected in love with those who bring such meaning and richness to your life.

Namaste.

Over at Hopeful Notes from Howie J., life-coach, mentor, all around amazing guy, Howard Parsons shares a tip today on Fear and Patience. How to stop acting out of fear and letting your heart guide the way.

It’s tough, this stopping acting out of fear. It’s tough because our egos don’t like standing still, especially when we don’t know what we’re standing in. Ego doesn’t want to explore the answer to…. How deep is this shite anyway?  It just wants to get the muck off our boots. It just wants to high-tail it outta there into someplace else. And really, it doesn’t care where that other place is, as long as it’ s not the shite you were standing in.

And that’s the rub. Leaping out of one shite pile without knowing where or how or what or why you’re going often lands you in…. yup. You guessed it. Another pile of horse manure, cow dung, elk pellets… You get the picture. Offal by any other name is still awful.

As the saying goes, where ever you go, there you are.

Or, as I like to say, where ever I go, I gotta take me with me. May as well take the best parts, kick the dung off my boots and dance in the rain to clean ’em up pardner! (’cause it’s Stampede time in cow city I’m addin’ in a little western lingo folks! 🙂

So… how does this relate to making a difference? Easy. If you’re standing in horse manure and reacting out of fear, your difference will be kinda stinky.

If you stop, breathe, assess the situation, call for help, even take a moment to search for  diamonds or nuggets of wisdom in the pile, you might find the horse manure isn’t really what you were afraid of. You might find that what you were really fearful of was…..  feeling the feelings of being stuck there, smelling the mess you’re in, discovering the reason you’re in the pile of manure in the first place was because you were doing, once again, what you’ve always done to get yourself into such a mess.

Ego is clever. It likes to trip us up. It likes to convince us it has our ‘best interests’ at heart. But seriously? At the heart of ego is the fear we’ll discover it doesn’t care about our hearts or what’s best for us’, it really only cares about protecting its position as boss, chief, mon capitano, el maestro.

Ego does not like being dumped or ignored. And it particularly does not like being in a pile of horse manure. Because… well…. how the hell did you get there? It wants you to believe if you’d listened to it in the first place you wouldn’t be there, but the truth is, for most of us, listening to ego is what got us there in the first place.

See the vicious circle?

If you don’t… Stop. Breathe. Relax. Breathe again. In. Out. In. Out. Deep, satisfying breaths that rise up from your belly.

Now, ask yourself: “What does my heart want?”

Listen to your heart.

Your heart always knows the way.

And while you’re waiting to hear its beat, start dancing. Whether in cow dung or horse manure, dance.

That’s the other thing ego doesn’t like. Joy.

In fact, it’s particularly sensitive to joy because if you’re dancing for joy, you’re not standing in fear. And fear is really the only emotion ego knows it can control you through.

Anyway, standing in horse manure isn’t all that bad if you’re wearing the right boots. And if you’ve got a shovel, you can easily clear a path out of there, righting what’s upside down, taking out what’s inside out. Working your way out of horse manure rather than leaping from one pile of shite to the next, makes a big difference.

I know.

I’ve stood in many a pile, leaping this way and that, trying to find a path to greener pastures. Until I let my ego stop directing me, until I stopped reacting and calmed my fearful breathing down to deep, steady inhales/exhales, I couldn’t see — the pile of manure ended when I got real clear on my role in getting me into that pile in the first place. Until I stopped running away from my fear of being 100% accountable for my life and moved through courage into being 100% accountable for my life, ego had its way with me.

Now, it’s my heart’s way and I am dancing in the rain, running through wildflowers and laughing when the earth gets kinda mucky. Because in moving through my heart’s calling for me to be all of who I am, in love, joy, harmony and bliss, fear can’t get the better of me!

And when fear isn’t getting the better of anyone, the world gets our best and in our best is the difference we make everyday in every way.