A Solstice Unfurling
Image
8
Time Flows Like Water
Ice forms long slippering islands around the bridge abutments that stand silent and strong in the middle of the river as cars pass over its surface above, heading towards the city centre. Winter’s first blanket of snow has arrived, turning the world pristine white beneath its embrace.
I sit and watch the river flow. Candlelight glowing in the still darkness of morning not yet broken.
It is a week until Christmas Day and the world holds its collective breath, waiting for news to unfold about the latest tentacles of this virus that is holding us captive to its advancements.
I have not yet started my Christmas dinner prep. Place cards. Table centrepiece. Festive boughs. All the ‘beauty fixins’ that will greet our guests and say, “You are so welcome here.”
We will be a smaller than normal crowd. There is less safety in numbers so we adjust, adapt, accept the dictates of these strange times.
And still…
I wait.
Hoping.
Wishing.
Wanting.
To gather. To be together.
To be safe.
I wait. Hesitant.
I want to safeguard my hopes. Protect my spirit from disappointment.
Christmas is one week away. The world awaits good tidings and joy.
Perhaps, rather than waiting I shall step into festive preparation believing in its possibilities, knowing that in the creating, my spirits will be lifted, and in the glow of creative expression and anticipation, I will be safe from disappointment.
Morning has not yet broken through night’s darkness.
Time flows like the river.
Hope rises in the promise of morning light soon to awaken and I awaken from my lethargy as dawn breaks through the looming darkness.
Namaste
Men In Tights
Beaumont the Sheepadoodle has much to say about Grey Cup Sunday. And, as I’m still away, I’m reposting our conversation from Grey Cup Sunday two years ago.
I know… how dare I! 🙂
Apparently, according to Beaumont, it’s the least I can do!
To read the conversation, click HERE
He says Thank-you for coming over to visit! At least somebody cares… sigh… I think that’s another jibe at me!
Beaumont: Don’t think it! Know it! Because of course it is! You’re still away visiting The Littles and I’m still here staring out the window, pining for you, waiting for your return… I sure hope you bring me back something nice!
Beaumont: So, what is it with you humans and having to watch men in tights?
Me: Don’t you mean Men in Black?
Beau: No. That’s a movie. I’m talkin’ about those guys in tights who chase a pig skin.
Me: Oh you mean football. And it’s one word btw. Pigskin.
Beau: Whatever. I must admit though, I do not understand why they’d chase a pig skin and not a pig. Now that would be way more fun!
CLICK HERE to read the rest.
This Is Love
The Trip of Mis-Matched Names
I am sitting at Calgary Airport waiting to board a flight to Vancouver which last night, I was not so sure I’d be able to get on.
All because my Alberta Health Card (hence my vaccination QR code card) has my first two names backwards.
The computer masterminding their online system doesn’t like anomalies so booted me out.
An hour later, I got off the phone with Westjet without any resolution. The attendant on the phone was very nice and as helpful as she could be, but there was nothing she could do.
“I’m sorry,” she said after searching yet another file for a solution. “You’ll just have to go to the airport and hope they let you through.”
Which they did. The check-in agent was amazingly helpful and reassuring. “It’s okay,” he said. “You’ve got a printed QR code for me to verify it’s really you! No problem.”
And it was done.
So now, I sit with my latte in a still quiet airport with an hour and a half to kill.
Much better than having to turn around and go home and try to get it fixed with Alberta Health. Have you ever tried calling their offices?
Yeah. I’ll take Westjet any day.
But then…. I’m going to have to go through the same rigamarole coming back. On second thought… maybe I will attempt to enter the lair of the AB Health phone system!
Beau’s Unspirited Christmas Message
We held our second annual outdoor Christmas Tree decorating extravaganza yesterday — Beau’s nose was out of joint because in the prep and frenzy, his blog wasn’t posted.
So… he took matters into his own paws this morning and penned a long dissertation on what really went down.
He hopes you click THIS LINK and come over to read all about it — and to see the wonderful photos Dustin T. took of the tree!
Here’s one to entice you…
It was a fun afternoon made all the better because of the special people who came and made it so.
Stop What You’re Doing!
“Stop doing what you’re doing to avoid doing what you need to start doing to do the things you want to do.”
Huh?
I can’t see her as I lay beneath a blanket of bath bubbles this morning at 5:00 am. I have been up since 4. Trying to get back to sleep.
Trying didn’t work so I decided to pour myself a bath, while also hoping it was too early for my mother to awaken from ‘the other side’ and come for a visit.
No such luck.
Except, I can’t see her. Only hear her.
And that was her message. The ‘stop avoiding and get doing’ call to action.
And then, the working title of this book I’ve been struggling to write (okay avoiding writing) pops into my mind, “What Her Mother Knew.”
I smile when I see it floating into view.
As a child, the book that most impacted me was “What Katie Did.” It’s the story of an English girl who falls off the roof of her home and is forced to spend her days in a wheelchair. She didn’t let it hold her down. She persevered in her desire to create joy in her life and the lives of everyone around her.
I loved her optimistic attitude. I loved how she overcame obstacles and her stubborn defiance of those who said, “You can’t do that.” Katie did it anyway.
Along with Pollyanna, my second favourite book, and The Parent Trap which my middle sister and I spent days upon days re-enacting, I always believed no matter how dark the day, the sun was still shining behind those grey skies.
When I look back on it now, I understand why those stories meant so much to me. Katie was encumbered with a disability that she did not let destroy her. Pollyanna always saw possibility and in the Parent Trap, twins separated at birth discover their love really is the strongest glue of all.
Growing up, for a whole bunch of reasons and a whole lot of circumstances that I struggled to make sense of, I believed, deep within me, that I was a mistake, unwanted, a constant disappointment, and, that somewhere in the creation of me, the universe got confused and replaced my egg with that of a weirdo. Which meant, I always believed I didn’t fit in or belong in my family circle.
I mean seriously, I always knew I was born one day after the day my mother wanted me to come into this world, and I was a girl. My father lost $20 and a case of beer because of my mistake in gender. All of which meant, I wasn’t wanted.
Of course, those were just my child’s mind creating stories (the date and losing the bet were true btw) to make sense of a world that didn’t make sense to me — and while in the end, those are now just stories, not my truth, those books impacted me and helped me cope. They also helped me define what kind of person I wanted to be in this world.
Which brings me back to my mother’s voice wafting through the candlelight and smell of eucalyptus in the bathroom this morning as I lay soaking in the tub.
The opening of the story wrote itself as I lay there. The outline of its journey became clear.
And… to start doing what I need/want to be doing, I shall be pulling away from writing here in the mornings.
I’ll drop in, I mean you are all part of my story and my journey. But it will be different — I’ll be reposting photos with quotes I’ve written over the years. But long posts — if you find me here doing those — tell me to get doing what I’m avoiding doing.
Thanks!
The Unholy Nature of Glitter-Götterdämmerung
Glitter.
It’s pretty. Sparkly. Festive. Fun!
And it’s toxic to the environment.
It gets everywhere, and I mean everywhere. Not just on your skin and clothes and dog’s fur, but our rivers, lakes, and oceans too.
Microplastics, which glitter is comprised of, litter oceans and have been found lining the stomachs of fish and birds.
And another horrible thing about glitter… if it’s on your wrapping paper, it can’t be recycled. It just adds to the world of garbage pollution already out there.
Scientists say glitter won’t tip the scales on climate change, but, eliminating it from our homes is one small thing we each can do to contribute to not tipping the scales on climate change further into the disaster zone.
Which is why glitter is now off my studio table (and I might be going into withdrawal). But I need to do more to treat my world, this planet we share as sacred, holy space. And to do that, I am beginning with foregoing my annual glitter-fest. Because, when I think about it (which is not at all a pleasant thought) I’ve already contributed to years worth of Glitter- Götterdämmerung.
My awakening to Glitter-Götterdämmerung is happenstance.
I’ve been making ornaments for our 2nd Annual Outdoor Fir Tree Festooning, and, as is my way come this most wonderful time of the year, I’ve been glittering up my creations.
Until it struck me that I might want to check into how much glitter is sprinkled on everything at this most wonderful time of the year. And so, I asked Dr. Google
Dr. Google had lots to say. All of which awoke me to the seriousness of the situation. I was violating one of the five principles I strive to live by – “Do No Harm.”
Because seriously, how much harm is not the issue.
The issue is, glitter harms the environment. Full stop. End of story.
Sure, I could rationalize my use by saying it doesn’t do as much harm as plastic bottles or bags, but that would just be me rationalizing my doing harm.
And so, I am introducing a ‘no new glitter’ rule into our household, which also means my studio.
I say, ‘no new’, because I’ve already created harm with the decorations I created over the weekend. (see the photo above)
When we know better, we do better.
I didn’t think to ponder the question “What about that glitter stuff?” when I first began to create. — My excitement of entering into ‘this most wonderful time of the year’ got the better of me.
Which in and of itself is a cautionary environmental tale.
I can’t/we can’t, the environment can’t afford any of us doing things without first asking the question, “How much am I harming my world, my planet, the air and trees and rivers and earth? How much harm am I doing?”
And then take steps back from the edge.
I’m stepping back, moving once again into living by my principles to create the more of what I want to see in the world — less pollution, healthier rivers, streams, forest, flora and fauna.
Now… what to do with all those viles of glitter I already own is a much larger question I need to investigate. ‘Cause however I dispose of them, I will be creating harm.
And that’s a hard microplastic to swallow.
Namaste
You Have A Story To Tell (a visit from my mother)
I suppose it had to happen.
After taking a break from visiting me while I was in the bath, my mother returned. For one last visit, at least for this year or until I do something, or don’t do something that makes her want to shake me up, as is the case now, she tells me as I lay immersed in hot, bubble-laden water, trying to ignore her presence.
“You can’t ignore spirit,” she says. Her voice is laced with more of her French accent than it was in the past. It’s stronger, more sing-songy too.
“What happened to your Holly Golightly get-up?” I ask, wanting to avoid at all costs, any conversation with my dead mother about spirit. If we never had those conversations in real life, why would we have them now?
In her previous visits, she was always dressed, a la Holly Golightly of Breakfast at Tiffany’s fame, in a red satin cocktail dress, black high heels, bouffant hair sprayed stiff. In one hand she held a martini glass. In the other a long ebony cigarette holder.
“Oh that. She was for you. You always wanted me to be a little more flamboyant than I was. So, I decided in this iteration of my being, I’d at least make myself over into someone you could relate to.”
Surprised, the bubbles wafting up around my hands as I tried, vainly, to vanish this latest apparition of my mother, I sputter and say, “You’re dead. You’re not here. I am alone in the bath.”
“Well, you’re definitely alone in the bath. I am no longer in need of such cleansing. But, I am definitely here. Sort of like a message in a bottle, only this time it’s in a spirit.” And she does that thing I seldom recall hearing her do in life. She giggles.
My mother started appearing, (always while I was in the bath), shortly after she… passed over, as she likes to call it. “The spirit never dies,” she says. “After its human journey, it returns to its eternal state, energy, or as you humans euphemistically call it, Love.”
Originally I wasn’t that surprised to see her. We had a lot of unfinished business and I needed to clean it up to heal.
I thought we were done. Which is why I am surprised to see her. After several attempts to conjure her up earlier this year when it became clear her visits were over, I’d decided she was gone. Forever.
Which was a bit of a relief. I felt very uncomfortable entertaining my mother while I was in the bath. No matter how high I piled on the bubbles, I always felt she could see right through me.
And in spirit form, she always could.
Something I didn’t give her much credit for in life.
I always thought she was so immersed in her own stories of worry and woe, she couldn’t see me, at least not the real me. The one I liked to think I was in the world.
It took many of my adult life years, and hundreds of hours in therapy, to get to a place where my anger and disappointment in what I judged as her inability to be the mother of my dreams, didn’t interfere with my capacity to love her as the mother she was. Human. Flawed. Imperfect. Carrying her own history. Her own schtick.
Just like me.
And then, she died just before her 98th birthday leaving me to deal with my grief that in life, I’d never found the secret to being the kind of daughter to her that my daughters are to me.
“You know you’re doing it again, Louise, ” she says as if reading my mind, which apparently, in spirit form she can, she reminds me.
“What’s that?”
“Well, for one, right now, you’re trying to play innocent. Like you don’t know what I mean when you do.”
I sigh. I am positive she was never this perceptive, nor direct, in real life.
“What you are living right now is not ‘real’ life, Louise. Take it from me. It gets a whole lot more real on this side. In fact, all you get is real over here, ’cause you no longer have to hide behind your smile, or make-up, or pretending you’re anything other than who you are. Yourself. On this side, judgment, criticism, one-upmanship… it all vanishes as spirit claims the purity and love at its essence. It’s quite refreshing actually.”
It is about the longest speech I’ve ever heard her give. Not to mention the deepest.
And with that, she begins to merge with the air around her.
“Quit hiding,” she tells me on a parting breath. “Write the story. You have something to say.”
And with that, she is gone.
I am alone.
Or am I?
Beau’s Guide To Happiness In Life
As many who follow me here know, Beaumont the Sheepadoodle writes a blog, Sundays with Beaumont — okay, paws his way through writing a blog every Sunday.
I know. I know. He can’t really type but as his human conduit to expressing his wisdom and wit (some might call it sarcasm), I do the typing and divining for him.
Yesterday, he shared his list of 10 Things hoomans can do that will really make life better for everyone (not just your four-legged companions!
And while some have already read it, I thought it worth sharing here as well — ’cause not only does his list inspire me to create better and do not harm, it reminds me to savour the people and moments that bring my life so much joy.
I hope it does the same for you too.
1. Get moving!
Get outside. Get into nature. Go for a walk. Garden. Run. Play in the snow. The river. The mud. And don’t forget to take me with you. I like being outdoors. There’s so much out there to explore and it’s just good dawginess to share it!
2. Stop and smell the roses.
Breathe. Smell the air. Heck, smell my fur, even when it’s wet. Bury your face in the sweet, juicy aromas of life. Sure, it can be messy and prickly. But it’s always beautiful and fruitful and full of sweet smells and reminders of how wonderful it is to be alive. Remember, you gotta BREATHE it all in.
3. Show, act, feel, be Love.
Pet me. Rub my belly. Fuss over me. I’m a dawg. That’s what I need and it’s what you need too! Love all over me and know, no matter what, love really is the answer. Try it with the people in your life too. It really works. Why do you think I do it with you?
4. Fill the whole canvas of your life.
Sit. Sprawl. Laze about. Let yourself sink into nothing but the pure joy of doing nothing. Block doorways. Lay in the middle of the room. Take up all the space you need to get comfortable. It’s your life. Your space. Fill it and do it often. Life looks better when you’re stretched out filling the whole canvas of your life.
5. Chase your dreams (and butterflies too).
Chase butterflies. Dragonflies, even bumblebees. You don’t have to catch them. The joy is in the running about, chasing after nature, and feeling the wind against your skin, or fur if you’re me.
6. Let your sillies out.
Dance in the rain. Run barefoot in the grass. Don’t be shy. Don’t tell yourself you’re too old or too proper or too whatever. You’re never ‘too anything’ (grey-haired, no-haired, young, tall, short…) to act silly and free. Kick your shoes off and feel the earth — I’ve never understood why people, and horses for that matter, wear shoes. They’re so distracting.
7. Set yourself free of your secret hurts and pains.
Talk to yourself – which is like… talking to me. Tell yourself all your sorrows, your secrets, your fears, your dreams. It’s okay. No one else can hear you except me and I will always listen and never judge and never tell another soul. Your secrets are mine to keep. Though if you tell them to me I might just chew on them and sit them out… know what I mean? 🙂
8. Let your happy shine, where ever you go!
Greet everyone you meet, even strangers and that barista with the tattoos and piercings and dog collar around their neck, with a big happy smile. And btw, I don’t understand why people wear dog collars. They’re for dogs, people, because we’re special. But I digress. Greet people like you’re really, really happy to see them. Try some wiggles and squirms, lick them even! Or, as you humans like to do, give them a peck on the cheek, but really, really mean it! Be happy to see them. Let your happy shine, where ever you go! Heaven knows, the world needs more wriggles and squirms and happy greetings. And by the way, so do you.
9. Savour every morsel of life (and whatever else is on your plate)
Always, always, clean your plate. Yup. I know. Your parents told you this. Difference is, what you don’t eat, you can give to me, I’m not picky and will eat anything you don’t, and then some! (and that’s how you clean your plate while also savouring every morsel of life) Oh. And no artichokes puhleease. I don’t like the prickles. Which brings me to my final point;
10. Follow your heart (and let me be your guide).
Only consume, buy, eat, do, speak, think, create, the things that create more joy, laughter, love and caring in your life. Be picky! Don’t settle for something just because it’s there. Make your own choices. Make your own path. Make your own waves. Remember, I chose you and you’re the bestest friend a dawg could ever have, which is saying a lot for someone who is not a dawg (that would be you). And you truly are great, especially when you remember to follow your heart. Oh, and let me be your guide.
“And don’t forget to count your blessings every day!” writes Beau, “And make sure you put me at the top of your list! ‘Cause we dawgs are true blessings in your life!”
Dare Boldly 