Snow Falling At Dawn

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Snow Falling At Dawn
Louise Gallagher
 
Sometimes, on mornings like this, 
 when the sky is gloomy grey 
 and snow falls softly
 as the world rests lightly 
 in the lingering tendrils of night's embrace, 
 I stand outside in the still quiet space before the dawn 
 and close my eyes 
 and turn my face up towards the sky 
 to feel
 the cool slick wetness of snow 
 falling against my skin.
  
 I listen to the river flowing
 to the sound of geese stirring
 on the far bank 
 where they rest upon a gravel bar
 throughout the night.
 A quiet honk, a rustle of wings
 and then 
 only the sound of the river flowing.
 In the distance,
 I hear the sibilant hiss of tires
 approaching
 followed by the more gutteral thrum
 as a car crosses over the bridge.
  
 For a moment,
 my mind will stray
 and I will wonder
 about their direction.
 To work? Or coming home?
 Were they at the hospital all night
 saving lives? 
 Tried? Weary? Exhausted?
 Or are they on their way
 fresh faced and eager to greet this day
 where they will serve 
 in a multitude of ways
 those of us who venture out
 only for necessities.
  
 And then, I’ll take a little breath
 say a quiet prayer of gratitude
 for whomever it is crossing the bridge
 and in that prayer
 I will remember all those who have crossed over
 their final bridge
 and all those who will cross over
 on this day that is just beginning
 which will become their last.
  
 Tenderly I hold the silence 
 in the sacred nature
 of my heart
 beating quietly
 in this darkness
 before the dawn
 and let my mind settle
 once again
 into the still quiet spaces
 of morning awakening
 slowly 
 beneath the tender light
 of snow falling at dawn.

Today is my birthday.

It is a day full of gratitude. Grace. Generosity. And above all Love.

My heart is full.

And though the world around me is locking-down in an effort to stem the flow of this virus that is reaching out in ever-widening waves to infect more and more people and cause more and more hardship, gratitude remains at the core of all I feel and know. All I welcome in and all I bring to this day.

I am thankful for my beloved. His heart and kind-spirit. His constancy and Love.

I am grateful for my daughters. For their tender mercies and love that has never faltered even when I have fallen on the road of life and lost my way.

And for my step-son and daughter who remind me always that love can expand in never-ending ripples of joy and laughter in this sacred space of being family.

I am grateful for my sisters who hold my heart and memories with such grace and who share theirs with endless generosity. And for the men in their lives who stand with us in all kinds of weather.

I am grateful for my friends. For those who have been on this path with me for many years and those who have only recently started walking beside me. Your presence illuminates my path, no matter the times.

I am grateful for all of you. For visiting me here. For being part of my journey. For encouraging me and seeing me and acknowledging me on this path.

There are many paths to find joy, contentment, happiness, peace. I am so grateful you are all at the heart of mine.

Namaste.

Snow Falling At Dawn

Let It Be And Love Will Have Its Way

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For several days now, the Beatles iconic hit, Let It Be, has been playing through my mind.

When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be

When I chatted with both my sisters yesterday we talked about how this is our first Christmas without mom. And, though her arthritis had made it too painful for her to make the journey to join us at our Christmas dinner table, she was always present.

My mother loved Christmas. In her 80s, living alone in a one-bedroom apartment, she would spend days decorating it up with boughs and bows, glitter and glitz. Garlands of fir, poinsettias, stars and angels graced every surface.

And always, her small Christmas tree was placed on a table visible from every corner of the living room. And Mary and Joseph and all the animals were placed in the manger in the middle of her sideboard. Of course, just as when I was a child, the baby Jesus would not be amongst them. At least not until Christmas eve when, as if by magic, we’d return home from midnight mass and there he’d be, lying peacefully on the straw, surrounded by his tiny family of Mary, Joseph, the animals and the three Kings.

He was only a small clay infant swaddled in a white cloth but he held such magic for me.

Of course, Santa would also have paid a visit while we were out so after a cursory check to make sure the baby was safely tucked into his place of honour, I’d run off to join my siblings in “The Great Christmas Present Opening Mayhem”.

What I remember most about my mom in those bygone Christmases is how she never sat down when we got home from midnight mass. While the rest of us raced in to check out what had appeared under the tree, she’d head straight to the kitchen to put the finishing touches on ‘Le Réveillon de Noël’, our post-midnight feast. And to wrap some last-minute gifts because, inevitably, my father would have invited friends from church to join in the festivities. And in my mother’s house, no one ever left empty-handed.

While we kids tore into the gift-laden tree, my father would pour drinks and mum would glide in and out of the room carrying platters of mince tarts and deviled eggs and cheeses. By 1am, I’d be yawning and trying desperately to keep my eyes open as the Tourtière was carried in.

And the eating and drinking would get down to business as I sleepily watched the mayhem unfolding around me.

I think it is the mayhem I miss.

The comings and goings, the toing’s and froing’s of getting ready for Christmas throughout the month. And, of course, the staying out of trouble to stay on the ‘good’ side of Santa’s list.

Staying on the ‘good’ side of Santa’s list was a struggle for me as a child. But in December, without my mother’s eagle eyes watching my every move and with my siblings equally as excited about Santa’s visit, (which gave them less opportunity to tattle on me) it seemed easier to stay out of trouble – though as the youngest of four whose nickname was, “The Brat”, getting into trouble came too easily to me. At least, that’s what my mother told me.

But at Christmastime, she was so busy shopping and cooking and decorating and wrapping gifts and volunteering at the church, she didn’t have as much time to notice when I wasn’t behaving ‘like the others’, which was her most frequent request of me.

Even as a child, that one confused me. “How could I be like the others if I was going to be me?” I’d ask her, innocently enough (at least in the beginning) but, as the years went on and her desire for me to ‘be like the others’ remained just as strong, my question became more of a ‘poke’ than innocent curiosity.

Eventually, with my mother’s repeated requests that I just ‘Let it be’ so she could have some peace, I learned to poke less. And though it never meant my mother and I had an easy relationship, it did mean I quit searching for my answers in her and started looking for them in me.

Sometimes, to find our answers we must let grace open our hearts so that we can find peace with the unknown.

The heart always knows.

And sometimes, all the heart wants is for us to “Let It Be” so that Love can have its way.

________________________

And… just in case it’s been a while since you watched or listened to the version of Let It Be from one of my all-time favourite movies, Across the Universe, I’m sharing it here.

Anything is possible…

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Mixed media on watercolour card stock 5 x 7″

My mother came to me while I was in the bath yesterday. At first, she was just a spirit voice. Felt. Heard. Unseen.

And then, there she was, á la Holly Golightly. Chignon high. Chin higher as she laughed and smoked a cigarillo in a long ebony holder and rattled the ice cubes in her martini glass that tinkled just like her laughter as she stretched her neck and looked up through the skylight above the toilet where she was seated.

She had come to set me straight, she said.

“Your Christmas tree has been sitting in your living room unadorned for three days. What gives?”

“We just haven’t gotten around to it,” I reply as I scoop more bubbles into the middle of the bath to cover my body.

“A naked Christmas tree is just like thinking bubbles will hide your body in the bath,” she says before taking a long sip of her martini.

“I wonder why I never drank these in the real world,” she asks of no one in particular. “I quite like them.”  She holds her glass out towards me. “Want to try?” And then she throws back her head and laughs again. “Just kidding!” She winks, something I never, ever saw her do in her entire lifetime, and says, “You see right through me.”

I can’t actually. See right through her. Her body has substance. Form. And her red satin cocktail dress is a killer.

“Do you really want to use the word “killer’ with a ghost Louise?”

Oh right. I forgot. I might not be able to see through her, but she can read my mind.

I sigh. Just like in life. She always said she could.

As if I said it out loud, she replies. “Well, actually, I couldn’t always read your mind but I always knew when something was troubling you. I am your mother after all.”

I’m a bit taken aback by her assertions. Seriously. My mother never seemed to care if anything was troubling me.

Again. She responds as if I spoke out loud. “I always cared Louise. I just was so depressed most of the time, I couldn’t find the words to help you feel better. Hell. I didn’t know how to make myself feel better so how could I help you?”

Can ghosts use the word ‘hell’ I wonder?

My mother laughs, rattles the ice cubes in her martini glass and takes a long drag of her cigarillo. She starts to cough. “Even in the afterlife I still don’t understand why your father smoked. But I do like the effect, don’t you? Very Breakfast at Tiffany’ish of me, don’t you agree?” And she does it again. She winks.

I take a breath. Sink a little lower into the still warm water hoping the bubbles will fill in the empty spaces.

She doesn’t seem to notice. “You know Louise, everything in the world around you is a reflection of the world within you. A naked Christmas tree speaks volumes.”

“Right,” I say (a tad testily) “And what does my undecorated Christmas tree tell you?”

“Beyond the fact you don’t want to use the word naked?”

“Well it feels a little too… intimate in these circumstances.”

“Seriously Louise. Stop trying to hide your body. It’s beautiful because it’s you.”

If I’d been drinking a martini I would have spluttered it out all over the place. My mother never, ever talked about naked bodies. In fact, it often felt like being ashamed of my body was the perfect antidote to getting her approval.

“I can hear you thinking, Louise…”

I sink deeper beneath the water until only my nose and mouth are visible through the bubbles.

“Louise. Stop trying to hide. Maybe in life I had some confused ideas about the body. I’m sorry. Fact is, you should never feel ashamed of your body and you definitely shouldn’t feel ashamed of diving in with your normal joy to celebrate Christmas. You love it so much.”

I decide to ignore the body talk and focus instead on Christmas. “But it’s not the same this year,” I whisper softly from the bath. Okay. I kind of whined but then, when with my mother my teenage self liked to take over. “The world is in such a mess right now. How can I let myself enjoy Christmas when there are so many people hurting in the world and when we can’t celebrate it with those we love?”

“Louise. Not decorating your tree is not going to change what’s happening in anyone else’s world but your own. And if you don’t create joy in your own world, how will you have any joy to share with others?”

“You’re sure you’re my mom, right? I mean. Joy is not a word I remember you ever using when you were here in the flesh.”

“Oh Louise. Lighten up. Joy is the language of the soul and we’re all just a bunch of joyful souls up where I’ve gone.”  She laughs and takes a sip of her martini. “And quite frankly, given that eternity is a long, long time being joyful makes it fly by so much faster. So… back to your naked tree. When are you going to dress it up?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Good. ‘Cause I gotta go. My glass is empty and I’m dying for another martini.” And she laughs so hard a strand of her chignon comes loose. She uses her cigarette holder to tuck it back behind her ear, dries the tears of laughter from her cheeks with one of her gloved hands and says. “Get it? Dying for another martini!” And she winks and is gone leaving only the sound of her ice cubes tinkling like Christmas bells on reindeer and her call to ‘have a good night!’ wafting through the air.

And a memory floats into my mind.

My father never read us ‘Twas The Night Before Christmas’. He knew all the words off by heart. Wide-eyed, I’d sit and listen and wait for the ending when, without fail, he’d give an exaggerated wink and exclaim á la Santa, “And to all a goodnight!”

And I wonder… who was that woman in the red dress sitting on the toilet drinking martinis? could it have been…

And I smile. In dreams anything is possible. Especially when it’s all dressed up in the magic of Christmas twinkling like lights on a tree.

Two Simple Words

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Morning light — photo unfiltered. untouched.
 
 I want to write of gratitude
 of how this year hasn’t been so bad
 how there’s so much good that’s come out of
 the bad
 and how I’ve learned so much and grown
 and found my way clear to living in this moment
 but the darkness outside my window
 seems to linger
 and I feel myself falling
 into its cloying embrace
 hoping it might hold me
 just a little bit longer
 all the while hoping
 it will let me go
 find my way out of the darkness.
  
 And my shoulders slump
 and my body grows tired
 of waiting for the morning light.
  
 I lean back into my chair
 close my eyes
 and try to take a deep breath
 but it’s not very deep
 this morning breath filled with
 the weary and worry of 
 these times
 that seem to grow heavier
 with every news report I read.
  
 And as I sit with eyes closed
 I hear my Auntie Maggie’s voice
 who at 90 lives alone in the city in southern India
 where she and my mother were born.
 She hasn’t been out of her house since March
 her only contact with ‘the outside world’
 her two servants who come daily
 and a neighbour who visits regularly
 and her What’sApp calls
 where she sometimes laughs and sometimes cries
 and always sings me a song from her childhood
 when she and my mother and all their siblings
 lived together in what they called
 their own private Shangri-la.
 Your mama loved to sing, she says
 And I remember and hear her sweet voice singing
 her favourite Christmas song, 
 “Il est né le divin enfant
 Jouez hautbois, résonnez musettes”
  
 And I smile and open my eyes 
 and see
 that in those few moments
 while I sat with eyes closed and spirits flagging
 the sun has broken through the darkness
 and streaked the sky with rosy hues
 that glow and pulse across the horizon
 in undulating waves
 of violet and pink and tiffany blue
 and the trees are dressed in cloaks of rose-brushed gold
 and the river flows deep in the morning glory
 of dawn breaking free of night.
  
 I want to write of gratitude
 and find myself here
 in this moment
 falling
 breathlessly
 into the beauty of light
 bursting through the cracks.
  
 I want to write of gratitude
 but words escape me
 as I breathe into the grace
 that arrives with every breath
 when I let go of what I want
 of what I miss or regret or yearn for
 and let this prayer
 of two simple words
 be all that I can say.
 Thank You.

Across The Grid (a poem to Zoom on)

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 Across The Grid
  ©2020 Louise Gallagher
  
 Across the grid
 of this digital universe
 we momentarily inhabit,
 faces smile and laugh
 brows furrow and foreheads crinkle.

 Sarah, sitting alone 
 in her box in London
 yawns and stretches as dusk settles in.
 She raises her glass 
 to the screen in front of her
 and takes a sip of wine.
 It's not really drinking alone, she hopes,
 when there's a virtual world of people
 right in front of her. 
 In LA, morning sunshine 
 streams through the window
 behind Jarred’s head.
 He wipes the sleep
 from his eyes
 and tries to shake off
 the dream he had last night
 as he takes another sip of coffee.
 While in Julia’s box down-under
 Tomorrow has already arrived.
 She can’t stay long. 
 She's got lots to do today.
  
 Amidst the ebb and flow 
 of conversation tethered 
 to an invisible web of binary code
 spinning around the globe,
 a fluffy black cat’s tail
 flits across the bottom
 of one, one-inch square,
 a brown and white dog
 patters through another
 paying no heed
 to the virtual world 
 of many lives 
 full of thoughts passing through
 unseen
 within each box 
 of constant dimensions
 holding everyone in place.
  
 Ripe with straight-laced consonants 
 and plump vowels rounding out
 the stream of conversation
 time keeps flowing
 past words and images
 cascading and falling
 into the constant flow
 of lives 
 gathered here
 in virtual reality.
 Connected
 yet so far apart.
  
 There is no time in the universe
 for distance
 to keep us apart
 in a locked down world.

On Wednesday evenings, I gather with a group of five other women on Zoom for an hour and a half of writing and sharing.

Facilitated by Ali Grimshaw of the Flashlight Batteries blog, she reads aloud a poem by another author and invites us to write whatever those words inspire.

The poem above was inspired by a poem called Zoom Morning Weather, by Josh Jacobs.

December Woman – She Does The Right Thing – #ShePersisted

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There is a difference between being told, “You can’t do that” and doing it because you want to prove the nay-sayer wrong, and being told, “You can’t do that” and doing it because it’s the right thing to do.

The difference is found in your motivation.

Doing it because you want to prove someone wrong often arrives with an attitude of rebellion and defiance. Rebellion and defiance can be great motivators, as long as they are not driven by the ego’s desire to ‘be right’ rather than ‘do right’.

Doing it because it’s the right thing to do, even when people tell you that you can’t, is grounded in the belief that listening to the fears and limiting beliefs that lay at the heart of other’s beliefs on what can or cannot be done to change the world will only create a world of inaction.

Listening to the things that call your heart alive and doing them because they’re the right thing to do, can transform the world into a better place for everyone. Because, at the cornerstone of doing the right thing is complete faith in the principles of integrity. Fairness for all. Dignity. Trust. Kindness and the transformative power of Love.

Of course, if you set your mind to do something, block out all the nay-sayers and put your head down and work hard, you will most likely do it.

But, if you do not ask yourself questions like ‘Why am I doing this?” or “What’s the cost of doing it ‘my way’?” you risk losing your integrity or causing harm to others and/or the planet because you’re ‘doing it’ is grounded in ego.

When you ask yourself the tough questions, like, “Am I doing this to prove other’s wrong or because I believe it’s the right thing to do?” you create space for integrity, fairness, dignity and kindness to grow.

And when you dig even deeper by asking yourself, “Do I believe it is the right thing to do with all my heart?” you create space for your heart’s awakening.

And when the heart awakens, doing the right thing becomes the thing you not only can do, it becomes the thing you must do.

We can all do the right things. For the sake of humanity and lall ife on this planet we call our home, we must. The world depends on us.

Namaste

November Woman – Believe In Yourself – #ShePersisted

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November Woman – #ShePersisted 2021 Desk Calendar – to view more paintings and quotes from the #ShePersistedSeries please click HERE

My mother often feared for my safety. Not because I was a thrill-seeker or purposefully did ‘dangerous’ things – though I did love to ski fast and swim deep and climb mountains and… okay, drive fast too — but to me, they never felt dangerous. Okay, well, maybe climbing mountains did while I was on the way up or down, but at the top? All danger vanished in the exhilaration of being atop a mountain seeing the beauty and wonder of the world spread out before me.

My mother wanted me to take the safe path. To keep to the well-known trails and to not deviate from what she knew would keep me out of what she perceived to be ‘harm’s way’.

I didn’t like her path. I wanted to create my own.

I’d love to say that I did it with grace and ease. But, the fact is, there were many, many bumps in the road. There were countless bruises and scrapes from falling down and knocking into things I didn’t see because I was walking around with my eyes closed. And, there were mistakes I made again and again because I kept thinking it was someone else’s fault, instead of seeing I was causing my fall because I kept thinking that if a road had a different name, it would be a different journey.

It took me a long time to realize that no matter what road I was on, the one person who was always there with me was me, myself and I. If I didn’t believe in myself, if I lacked confidence in my ability to choose the right path for me, or if I chose to turn a blind eye to the curves ahead or the potholes in my way, it didn’t matter if the road was well-travelled or well-lit. If my eyes were closed, or my heart shut down, or my senses turned off, I was bound to fall down.

Learning to believe in myself, to walk with my eyes and heart wide-open, has been a life-long journey. Learning to trust that I am my best friend and life coach and guide, still takes practice. Learning to listen to my heart, my gut, my intuition and all my senses, to ‘feel’ the world around me is part of learning to navigate this life in my own creative way.

November Woman is a reminder that no matter what path we’re on, if we’re on it because we think it’s easier to ‘just go with the flow’ of other’s choices and ideas, then we’re bound to feel the disappointments and ennui of not living our life to the fullest. She wants us to remember we are not born to live in the shadows of someone else’s light. We are born to shine. Bright. Fierce. Brilliant.

Life is not a guarantee of easy. It’s an invitation to explore paths unknown, to trust in ourselves and to walk with integrity, humility, kindness and Love as our guiding lights.

My mother always wanted to keep me safe.

For me, being safe isn’t about what path I’m on, it’s about trusting myself enough to light every path I’m on with the values she taught be. About the importance of kindness. The goodness of humanity. And above all, the power of Love to transform darkness and light.

Let us all carry belief in ourselves, belief in humanity and belief in the power of Love. Let us all light up the world with loving-kindness and the courage to be ourselves in a world that celebrates our differences and the many paths we take to create a better world for everyone.

October Woman – Be The Change– #ShePersisted

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October Woman #ShePersisted 2021 Desk Calendar – to view more of the series, please click HERE

The moon hangs high in the morning sky above the horizon bruised rose and violet by the sun’s awakening rays.

The air is crisp. The river runs past, its surface gunmetal grey tinted with the soft mauve reflection of the morning sky above. The trees sway in a gentle morning breeze as gracefully as Sufi turning round and round to the soft melodic chants of ancient verses wafting in the air around them.

And the earth keeps spinning.

And we keep breathing and taking, breathing and taking as if the largesse of Mother Earth will go one for eternity.

It can’t.

Go on and on and on.

Not if we keep treating Mother Earth’s gifts as ours to take and plunder and abuse.

We need Mother Earth to survive. She is not just our home. She is the home of every organism, every creature, every sentient and insentient being on this planet.

We must take care of her. We must act like guests on the planet. Not like we own her. Because we don’t. No one and no one thing owns Mother Earth. She is our host and hostess. She is our conduit around the sun every year. Our purveyor of all things wonderful and marvellous in our world.

We do not own Mother Earth.

Instead of taking whatever we want, whenever we want, lets sing a song of gratitude. Let’s give thanks for this wondrous planet that supports all of life without discrimination, without judgment.

Instead of abusing her, let’s change our ways and dig deep into our hearts to become the change we want to see in the world – Sustainability. Longevity. In all life. All things. All ways.

Our very breath depends upon it. And the lives of our grandchildren’s children depend on our changing our ways too.

Now. Forever. And Always.

___________________________________________

I have a limited number of #ShePersisted 2021 Desk Calendars left in my Etsy Shop. To order yours, please click HERE, or message me if you have questions or prefer to send an etransfer. Free Shipping in Canada. Get it in time for Christmas!

Welcome, The Season Of Joy.

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And so we gathered beneath the mighty fir that stands sentinel in our yard. The one where Siddartha sits all year round welcoming everyone to our home.

We stood beneath its sweeping branches that cast welcome shadows on a hot summer day, its deep green branches a welcome respite from the black and grey and white of a prairie winter.

Outdoor gatherings are fun!

We gathered together as families do and laughed and told stories on one another and shared a mug of hot mulled wine and feasted on seasonal delights. We toasted one another and those who could not be with us this year, either because of time and space or because they are gone from these earthly realms forever.

We raised our mugs to Christmases past spent indoors decorating or gathering around a table laden with holiday fare. And together, toasted this year that has challenged each of us to find more creative ways to spend time together. Ways that nurture our well-being yet do not risk our health.

Bundled up against a winter chill, we festooned the fir with stars and bells and homemade decorations and did our best to keep our distance. No hugs. No kisses on cheeks. No sharing of bites of this or that.

It was a different kind of way to welcome in the holiday season, yet, as in all the years past, smiles and laughter filled the air spinning a magical web with the essence of this time of year.

Family and friends gathering together to build memories and share what makes life rich and beautiful.

Connection. Belonging. Joy in one another’s presence. The reminder we do not walk alone. We are all in this together. And, above all, Love.

We decorated the fir tree outside our door yesterday. And the beauty of this special time of year slipped into our hearts and made itself at home for the season.

September Woman – She’s Got Attitude. #ShePersisted

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September Woman – #ShePersisted 2021 Desk Calendar – to view more of the series click HERE

When someone states the obvious, and it’s meant to deride or mock, one of the best responses is to acknowledge it’s true, and move on.

Taking umbrage is the pain of the insecure. It reveals discomfort with being who you are, fiercely, fearlessly, authentically.

As the saying goes, “If ya’ got it. Flaunt it!”

And the transformative power of attitude is not to be denied. There is no need to defend your true self or try to tone it down. Celebrate it. Dance with it. Let it show up bright and shiny in the world. Anyway, acting like you’ve just received a compliment when someone says something as ambiguous as the statement, “You’ve got attitude,” is a much better defence than getting all defensive.

Attitude, like weather, is always present. And while it might feel good to get angry at the wind or to tell the snow in July it’s out of season, the weather will always be what the weather is. Itself.

So too with attitude. It is not to be shirked, nor hidden, nor denied. Especially if its purpose is to propel you on your path to changing the world for the better.

Every morning ask yourself, “What attitude fits me best today?”

Warrioress. Priestess. Defender of the people. Peace-maker. Righteous goddess. Quiet acolyte. Gentle heart. Disciple of Truth. Fierce celebrant of life…

Wear that. Wear it with pride, purpose, passion. You won’t wear it out, though you might just wear out those who would bring you down, or want to spoil your day with unbidden comments designed to stop you in your tracks and keep you from doing whatever it takes to bring your best to the world today.

Because, seriously, the statement “You’ve got attitude,” contains a river of passive-aggressiveness meant to drown out your voice and keep you in your place (that place being where ‘they’ think you ought to be.)

Live your attitude. The world needs you, your voice and your attitude to rise above the fray so that together we can create a better world for everyone.

Namaste

____________________________