My birthday photo today. 72 and I get to choose to not wear make-up!
Another year around the sun, and the emotions are a chaotic, beautiful mess. Joy and weariness co-exist. That’s the whole point, isn’t it? Today, I claim my birthright: unadulterated self-celebration.
Birthdays are a moment of necessary, guilt-free narcissism. We get to hit pause and declare: This is all about me.
But this year’s number – 72 – is different. Seventy-one was the year I finally got clear. I stopped tiptoeing around other people’s visions for my life and stepped fully into my own power. I shed the fear of upsetting someone else’s apple cart and chose to claim ‘the more’ I truly want.
It was a challenging year. We weathered my husband’s health storms, navigating travel with his oxygen and wheelchairs. Yet, I found myself more confident than ever, able to right my own boat in any sea. It was a year of profound firsts: traveling to Europe, (the continent where I spent most of my formative years) with my youngest daughter, discovering Malta (and Maltese hospitality! wow!), and even living on an island.
More than any of those adventures, this past year I finally put down the metaphorical knife I used to fend off intruders to my personal space. I don’t need defense; I need declaration. I claimed my space. Unequivocally.
Here’s to aging, not worrying about whether it’s “graceful” or “fierce.”
Here’s to claiming the right to do it however I damn well please.
There’s only one way to spell ‘frustration,’ but I’ve invented a thousand ways to express it.
For the past week, As I’ve been creating my Make Time for the Sacred Winter Solstice Reflections. I’ve been fighting an epic, soul-crushing war against my laptop.
FRUSTRATION doesn’t cover it. That word is too polite. I was operating on a level of digital rage that involved a primal urge to launch my computer into the Pacific Ocean, or at least see what happened if I put the whole thing in the microwave.
(And yes, I know, it’s not the laptop’s fault. User error is a pandemic whenever I dive into new software. We are all just primates trying to manage a universe of wires.)
But here’s the brutal truth about perseverance: It works.
I was determined to get this course online before Advent started. I missed that deadline by four days and approximately 70 hours of lost sleep, but I PERSEVERED. The kinks are gone, the demons are exorcised, and the tech finally listens.
My course is officially ready.
The Invitation (Where You Come In)
Humans are fascinating creatures: we create complex tools, and then we struggle to use them. This Solstice reflection is a necessary pause from that struggle.
The Make Time for the Sacred Reflections is a beautiful, FREE way to prepare your heart for the return of the light.
Here is exactly what you get when you sign up:
Four Weekly Reflections: Delivered right to your inbox, running from now until the Epiphany on January 6th.
Flexible Access: Each week includes both a written option (to read and journal) and an audio option (for listening on the go).
A Sacred Pause: A simple, guided way to reconnect and reflect during the most chaotic season of the year.
And Bonus content — 4 questions to deepen your experience to prompt journalling should you choose.
A weekly meditation posted every Friday for your to savour over the weekend and into the following week.
This free gift ends January 6th. Release the procrastination. Get your pause now.
A photo of two friends, a husband and wife, hugging, waist-deep in the Mediterranean sea, flits across my social media page.
My mind immediately trips me up, spitting me out of contentment with the speed of a child emptying a bowl of mushed peas onto the floor. “C.C. and you will never do that again,” the harsh, woebegone critic hisses. I remind him he’s not welcome here, but the critic pays no heed. His niggling at my peace is relentless.
C.C. is my husband. His health has been severely compromised by COPD and a year of on-again, off-again pneumonia. With each passing day, the list of ‘Things we’ll never do together again’ grows.
This struggle, watching his health decline while my attitude eroded, is why Dear Me, I Love You, was born. I saw a harshness creeping into my voice and a lack of care: who cares if the soup is slopping onto the tray? He should be thankful I serve him at all! That negativity required a fast attitude adjustment.
Whether life is getting me down or lifting me up, writing these poems grounds me in the moment. Like the automatic joy of children’s laughter, writing urges me to stop peering into the darkness and look up. I’m learning that the true challenge isn’t a lack of Love — Love flows, always, everywhere. The challenge is my attitude.
Life Now, Life Imaginedby Louise Gallagher
I struggle some days
to balance
life now
with life imagined.
How two words
juxtaposed
jammed together
have the power
to redefine me.
I struggle to contain
the roles I inhabit
Lover,
friend,
partner,
co-conspirator
and in all of it, that word.
Caregiver.
The heavier the struggle
the greater the need
to retreat
and find solace
in the one place
that soothes
my confusion
my fear
my anger.
Love.
No matter how
battered and torn
my heart
is all I have
to lean into.
I saw an image on Instagram this morning that really resonated with me. A beautiful butterfly with the caption: “Magic happens when you stop shrinking to fit spaces you’ve outgrown.”
It’s how I look at aging. I’ve outgrown my 50s, 60s, and now, I’m growing and expanding into my 70s, devouring every delicious bite of being this age of empowered living.
Somewhere in my 30s, I realized I was being sold a load of horse-manure by the cosmetic industry. “Anti-aging.” “Anti-vaginal odor.” “Anti-anything” some clever marketer thought women should address in order to stay, reclaim, or feel young again.
It was as if they were whispering (though it often felt like shouting), “Being your age is okay, but looking, smelling, and feeling it? No way! That just means you’re old.”
Well, guess what? I’m in my 70s now. And I have not stopped aging. Shocking, isn’t it? What I have done is stop buying into the anti-aging narrative. There is nothing in it for me to be afraid of aging. Heck, I’ve been doing it every single day of my life. I’m an aging expert. And in my vast repertoire of experience, I’ve learned a thing or two about the anti-aging movement.
Anti-aging is anti-women being themselves. It’s a relentless campaign to convince us that our natural state is a problem to be solved.
Anti-aging is a confidence racket. It’s constructed to make us feel bad about how we look, act, dress, talk, and even smell. The goal isn’t to make us beautiful; it’s to make us insecure.
Anti-aging is a multi-billion dollar industry. I can’t fight the industry, but I can fight back by not buying their horse-manure. My wallet is my weapon.
What about you? Are you done shrinking? Are you ready to claim your right to be your age—with all the grace, sass, and dignity you’ve earned?
Let’s start a revolution. A quiet, powerful, and deeply personal revolution.
Your Call to Action:
Stop playing their game. Look in the mirror today and say, “This is me. This is my magic. Aren’t I magnificent!”
What is one small, rebellious act you’re doing to embrace your age? Maybe it’s ditching the painful heels for a pair of shoes that love your feet. Maybe it’s not hiding the grey or wearing a bold new lipstick that makes you feel powerful or finding your power in opting out of make-up entirely á la Suzanne Sommers. Maybe it’s simply refusing to feel ashamed of a new wrinkle and choosing instead to see each one as a celebration of your life story.
Please do share your story in the comments below. Let’s celebrate our earned wisdom, our hard-won freedom, and the deliciousness of being exactly where we are. Because magic doesn’t happen when we shrink; it happens when we expand.
Why the fear of not having a purpose is holding you back—and how to find freedom in every single act.
We talk a lot about purpose. We talk about finding it, earning it, and living it. But in our obsession with finding a purpose, we often trap ourselves in a constant state of anxiety and comparison. We get stuck in an unhealthy emotional morass, believing others have a grander purpose than we do—or that we have non at all. This leads to a cascade of negative beliefs: I’m not good enough. I don’t make a difference. I’ll never measure up. I don’t matter.
The fear of not having a purpose often propels us into dead-end streets and chaos corners. It compels us to keep searching, to never let our guard down, and to stand vigilant for some grand purpose to float by so we can claim it. We tell ourselves, “I’ll finally matter when I find my purpose!”
What if you don’t have to search for purpose? What if all you need to do is live on purpose?
The Heavy Load of Finding Your Purpose
Countless books have been written about finding your purpose. We often see purpose as “what we do in the service of others,” as if it’s a monumental job description we must earn. Yet, what we do in service is simply a reflection of how we live our lives every day, in alignment with our values, principles, and beliefs.
The other night, while having dinner with my two daughters, we went around the table and shared a unique quality we admired in one another. When it was my turn, both of my daughters said, “You have a unique ability to meet people where they’re at and see the good in them.”
My heart felt so light. Since retiring and moving to a quiet Gulf Island, I’ve struggled with the question, “How do I live my purpose when I’m not ‘out there’ in the world, making a difference?” Hearing my daughters’ words, I realized I am making a difference just by showing up in my world every day with an open and loving heart and mind. By being fully present, I am both living my purpose and living on purpose.
There’s great relief in that acceptance. A feeling of spaciousness and possibility. I’ve accepted that my purpose doesn’t have to be some grandiose idea of healing the sick or solving world poverty. It’s simply to live my best, in every moment of every day, so my ripple is one of love, joy, and harmony. In this act, I gift myself peace of mind, body, and heart. And from that space, living on purpose feels easy, and the world around me feels calm and accepting.
The Lightness of Living on Purpose
One of the biggest differences between having a purpose and living on purpose is that having a purpose is passive, while living on purpose is active.
A purpose can be a goal—a destination to reach. Goals are important, but when they’re the singular focus and not rooted in our values, we can lose sight of our impact on the world. Hyper-focused on attainment, we can believe our goal is all that matters – and everyone else better get out of our way.
Living on purpose, however, demands our full engagement with life. It’s an intentional practice that requires our attention. It’s the realization that everything we do, say, create, and think has a ripple effect.
If you want your ripple to be an invitation to others, you must be conscious of the waves you make.
Living on purpose is not about the things you acquire or the goals you achieve; it’s about how you live your life. Living on purpose illuminates the world all around you. And in that brilliance, your light becomes a beacon of hope for others.
Practical Steps for Living on Purpose
It’s easy to live on purpose when you know the values, principles, and beliefs that guide your every action, word, and thought. Clarity of what matters most will automatically underpin everything you do, creating space for you to live intuitively and intentionally.
Here are three simple, actionable steps to start living your purpose right now:
Clarify Your Values: Your purpose is built on your values. Take some time to identify what matters most to you—things like honesty, compassion, creativity, or courage. Ask yourself, “What do I stand for?” Then, write down a list of five or six values that resonate deeply with you. Ask yourself, “How do I live this? For example: The cashier at the grocery store misses charging you for an item. Do you let them know? If honesty is one of your core values, letting them know is never in doubt.
Knowing your values provides a personal compass for your actions.
Conscious Action: Connect your values to your actions. For example, if a driver cuts you off, you can choose to respond with your value of compassion instead of anger. A simple, “Bless them. Forgive me. Forgive them. Bless me,” can restore your equilibrium far faster than endlessly muttering under your breath. (And yes, ‘forgive me’ is important because if you’re human, you probably had a not-so-nice thought or two about them when they cut you off.) This reinforces the idea that every act becomes an expression of your purpose.
When we live on purpose, our values take centre stage.
Embrace the Ripple Effect: Recognize that every action has a ripple. One word shouted in anger can create shockwaves of unease. One word spoken in kindness can resonate like a single harp string pulled in a room full of harps creating a ripple of harmony.By consistently acting from a place of integrity, your positive influence naturally expands. Focusing on conscious living is far more sustainable and fulfilling than constantly searching for a monumental purpose.
To make a difference, live true to your values, principles and beliefs.
Is there a step that feels most accessible to you today? Please share your thoughts and inspire others to live on purpose.
I watch a windsurfer skimming the water, waves slipping underneath the board, body taut, legs primed, arms grasping the bar. A picture of tenacity, grit, and commitment. Commitment to every wave. To every nuance of the water, riding each roll of the surf like a bronco buster on a bull. Anticipating. Adjusting. Moving with each unpredictable buffet of the wind and eruption of the sea.
Like life, we travel through each day, holding on to what’s dear to us, to what’s important. Anticipating. Adjusting. Moving. Sometimes, we miss a step and fall. We have one or two choices: get back up and carry on, or stay down and let the waves carry us further out into the chaos of not taking charge of our own journey.
Sometimes we simply need the right tool. Or the inner wisdom to know we are strong enough to carry on, even when we feel we have no energy left.
Just as the windsurfer learns from every dip and dive, we too can grow stronger through life’s inevitable challenges. It’s in those moments of choosing to rise that our true power is revealed, often found by tapping into our inner wisdom or discovering the right support. What if we all embraced that spirit, understanding that sometimes the most profound growth happens right after a fall?
What helps you get back up when life knocks you down? Is it a particular tool, a mindset shift, or relying on your inner strength? Share your strategies and support others in our community who might be feeling adrift. Join the conversation below!
I read the news, and a weariness settles deep within. Heavy words line the page, black print against stark white, blurring and tumbling into a wave of dismay that roils through my mind.
“You are not equipped to handle this,” a voice whispers from somewhere deep inside.
Who is?
Turmoil. Angst. Anger. Fear. These are the emotions that dominate the day.
Tariff wars. Gun wars. Drug wars.
So many wars distort my view of the sun, so many words barricade my heart, holding it hostage in despair.
“Stop reading,” the voice insists.
My heart flutters. Can I? Should I?
What if, in stopping, I become blind to the suffering? What if I become numb to the pain? What if I succumb to the lie that I am powerless?
I am adrift, devoid of answers that can calm the turbulent seas. Seas that overturn lifeboats of global treaties and trade routes. Seas full of angry waves rolling across the land, drowning reason, flooding communities and destroying communities, families, lives and so much more.
I feel powerless to shift the mindsets that perpetuate the illusion of ‘us’ versus ‘them.’ Them out there, whose ways are different but no less valid. Them who speak a foreign tongue or worship at a different altar. Them whose histories are etched with the struggle to rise from poverty, flee violence, find safety, only to face more barriers. Them who are, simply, different.
Yet, I am not powerless to keep my mind open, my heart soft, and my back strong.
I am not powerless in the face of injustice, cruelty, chaos.
I choose to stand true to the belief that we are all important, all matter on this big, round ball circling the sun, year after year. Our orbit is the same as theirs. Our planet, one.
I must step away from the relentless scroll and focus on what I, one individual, can do to create calm in a world of chaos.
That is my mission for today. To plant seeds of kindness, to offer a hand, to listen with empathy. To find the small acts of love that ripple outwards.
Tuesday morning, Sun shine. Fluffy white clouds tinged with grey and blue shroud Vancouver Island in the distance. Sea a gently undulating blanket, always in motion. Trees stand tall, branches still, their filigree network of needles pricking the untouchable sky.
In meditation this morning, the invitation was to ‘let your mind dissolve into the clouds’. I struggled with it. Struggled to find the stillness and spaciousness of nothingness. To imagine my mind as dissolvable.
I am attached to my mind and its constant yammerings and yawings. It’s incessant litany of thoughts and ideas tumbling around inside my head telling me, ‘that’s a good idea’. ‘what on earth were you thinking?, ‘you need to do more’, ‘you’re not enough’… and all that jazz.
Stilling the chatter has been a lifelong journey for me. Meditation is my gateway to the stillness, and calm, of letting my mind dissolve into the clouds.
Some mornings, my mind feels busier than others. When I began meditating, I started small. Even 1 minute of sitting in the silence is better than none.
Whether you’re a beginner, or a seasoned meditator, here are four ideas on how you can begin to meditate or to enrich your existing practice:
1. Start Small:
Silencing the mind completely is a lofty goal, especially for beginners. If you’re just beginning, start with just a few minutes of dedicated stillness each day, gradually increasing the duration as you become more comfortable. If like me, you go in and out of your practice, sometimes leaving it for days on end, always begin again and do not judge yourself harshly!
2. Focus on the Breath:
The breath is an anchor to the present moment. Especially as you begin to practice, pay close attention to each breath. In. Out. In. Out. As you progress, focus the sensation of each inhale and exhale, noticing the rise and fall of your chest or belly. When the mind wanders, gently guide it back to the breath. In. Out. In. Out.
Remember not to judge your progress, or the stillness of your mind. Stay, ‘open minded’. Curious. Calm.
Tip: To support your practice, try this counting exercise: inhale for a count of 4, hold for 4, exhale for 4.
3. Engage the Senses:
Connect with your senses. Take a mindful walk in nature, noticing the sights, sounds, smells, and textures around you. Or, sit quietly and savour a cup of tea or coffee, paying attention to the warmth of the mug, the aroma, and the taste.
Exercise:When connecting with your senses, close your eyes and ask yourself: “What do I hear? What do Ifeel against your skin? What do I smell?” Don’t seek the words to describe what your experiencing. Feel it. Don’t name it.
4. Embrace a Creative Outlet:
Engaging in creative activities can quiet the mental chatter and induce a state of flow. There are countless individual ways of experiencing this – painting, writing, dancing, playing music, gardening, or anything that allows you to express yourself and get lost in the process.
As a mixed media artist and as a writer, getting lost in the process of creation has taught me to ‘trust in the process’ . Time disappears, the world around me fades as I become immersed in the pure joy and wonder of allowing my intuition and creative essence to express itself fearlessly.
5. Acceptance and Non-Judgment:
It’s crucial to approach stillness with a gentle, non-judgmental attitude. When thoughts arise (and they will!), acknowledge them without judgment and gently redirect your attention back to your chosen anchor (breath, senses, etc.).
Remember: Meditation is a practice, not a performance. There’s no “right” way to find stillness just as there is no wrong way to begin again.
What about you? What do you do to stop the chatter and open the portal to your heart?
Dive into your own story,” my novel-writing workplan instructs. I hesitate, a knot tightening in my stomach. I get it, truly, but the past has a way of clinging to shadows, doesn’t it?
It reminds me of writing The Dandelion Spirit, the story of my descent and eventual ascent out of the hell of an abusive relationship that almost killed me. Back then, I wanted to skip the messy bits and the downward spiral along with the heartbreak that led to my eventual blooming. But my publisher, wise soul that he is, insisted on context. “Show them the broken pieces,” he urged, “so they can marvel at how you put yourself back together.”
And so I did. Tears flowed, old wounds ached, but through the writing, a strange alchemy occurred. The past, once a monster lurking in the corners of my mind, became a tapestry woven with threads of resilience and hope.
“That was then,” I whispered to myself, my mantra for survival. “This is now. I am safe. I am loved. I am enough.”
Now, facing this new story, the echoes of that past resistance return. My novel, you see, dances with the shadows of my own relationship with my mother – a dance that continued long after she was gone.
To breathe life into my heroine’s journey, to illuminate her triumphs, I must first descend into the darkness of her past, a past mirrored in my own.
It’s a daunting task, this excavation of memory. But perhaps, like those ancient cave paintings, our stories – the light and the shadow – are meant to be shared, to illuminate not just our own paths, but the paths of others who yearn for healing and wholeness.
And so, I dive in. Not to dwell in the pain, but to find the glimmers of resilience, the whispers of hope that have always been there, waiting to be unearthed. Because maybe, just maybe, in the telling of our stories, we find not just healing, but a way to truly live beyond the grief and sorrow, and step into the radiant light of who we were always meant to be.
I’d love to hear from you. What stories are you working to bring to life? How are you navigating the delicate dance between past, present, and future? Share your thoughts and experiences in the comments below – let’s support each other on this journey of storytelling and self-discovery.
By sharing your story, you not only heal yourself but also offer a beacon of hope and inspiration to others. Every story matters. Like a pebble tossed into still water, our stories of courage and triupmph create ripples that expand outwards, merging into waves of shared experience, washing over the world with love, healing, and the promise of a brighter tomorrow.
Six days into the new year and it already feels like a rocky start. I’ve slipped on all levels of my commitment to self-care and fostering calm. It’s as if the moment the calendar flipped to January 1st, some invisible switch was thrown, and the pressure to be better, do better, achieve more, kicked the critter chatter in my mind into high gear as my inner wise woman slipped into reverse.
Yesterday, I succumbed to the siren song of junk food. The rain was coming down in sheets as I drove back from Victoria, the early morning ferry (6:20 am – ouch!) catching up with me. Each mile felt longer, each raindrop a tiny hammer against the windshield. By the time I reached Duncan, the golden arches of self-indulgence were glowing like a beacon of comfort, and the gremlin on my shoulder was whispering promises of salty, greasy satisfaction. Resistance crumbled.
And it’s not just the diet. 10,000 steps? More like 10,000 excuses. Between ferrying C.C. to Seattle and navigating the labyrinth of Canadian customs and residency paperwork, my Fitbit has been gathering dust. The book? Those 1000 words a day are mocking me from the blank page.
I find myself making excuses, defending my actions as if I’m in front of a judge. Why this need to justify? Is it the fear of being judged, of not living up to some impossible standard of “New Year, New Me”? Or is it something deeper, a fear of failing myself, of not being disciplined enough, strong enough to stick to my resolutions?
Perhaps the real struggle isn’t with the self-care itself, but with the expectations I’ve piled upon myself. Maybe calm isn’t something to be achieved, but a state of being, a way of approaching life that I need to rediscover. Maybe it’s time to take off these judgmental glasses and see the world, and myself, with a little more kindness.
Maybe, rather than loading myself up with expectations and then giving my inner critic free rein to criticize my perceived “lack” of progress, commitment, or achievement—obscuring my gratitude like a dark cloud hiding the sun—maybe I need to step fully into gratitude. Maybe I need to choose to celebrate the beauty, wonder, and awe that already exist in my world.
Perhaps counting moments that take my breath away, instead of milestones that constantly raise the bar higher, will help me focus on taking one step at a time towards my goals. And maybe, just maybe, all I need to keep my steps moving gently and calmly forward is to carry gratitude in my heart—gratitude for the journey, for the present moment, and for the abundance that surrounds me.
What about you? What would it look like to silence your inner critic and embrace the gift of this moment?
Dare Boldly 