On decluttering, walking, and my little girl….

Decluttering

It is an interesting period for me, right now ~

The time has come, my heart surgeon has informed Dan and I,

to move ahead with my heart surgery.

I am now waiting to go through for a few more tests

and then we will be given a date.

I have felt all sorts of emotions around the processing of this big news:

relief, conviction, fear, anger, excitement, anticipation, confusion, frustration, deep gratitude….

One of my biggest challenges, though, has simply been around what to do with myself during this time.

I am the sort of person that thrives on expansion in every direction and operating from her extensive lists,

constantly setting new goals and getting things done,

drawing lines through my items accomplished as quickly as I add more new things to do.

This all, I admit, makes me feel productive and useful and alive and a part of things.

Yet, here I am,

suddenly being asked to slow right down,

and take loving care of myself in all ways to prepare for what my body is about to go through ~

My priorities have suddenly become

not adding too many new things to my lists,

long walks and stretching,

eating wholesome foods,

staying calm and grounded by being mindful and meditating,

attending to myself and my family, and letting my family and friends attend to me.

I am also slowly but surely tidying things up at home,

simplifying,

paying attention to many of the little chores and projects that will allow me to feel organized and happier during my recuperation time.

One of those projects involves decluttering my working space, the room that stores all of my many books, paper and art supplies. This is a job that I have been trying to get to for at least two years, as the room has become a chaotic disaster, nothing more than a place to put everything.

I am finding myself moving through this particular task gently and lovingly, working on it a bit each day, combing though books and old pictures, cards, old journals,

making recurring trips to Michael’s for more wicker baskets,

and feeling so re-inspired by all of the wonderful things that I forgot I owned.

As the space begins to transform and stuff gets cleared out I feel noticeably lighter.

And so it strikes me that perhaps, in life,

there may be times of transition,

wherein we feel seriously called to declutter not just our rooms but our life in its entirety.

We must stop, blink as if we are just waking up,

assess our surroundings, reflect on where we are putting our time and energies and ask ourselves,

‘Is this necessary?’

‘Do I even want this anymore?’

‘Is this a good use of my time?’

‘Does this serve me? Does this serve my family?’

‘Is this still a good fit?’

‘Does this still interest me?’

Magically, I am finding that in the distilling, the decluttering, the clearing away,

and the slowing down,

a gentle and bright clarity is undeniably coming.

Surprisingly, underneath all of the stuff and the people and the events and the clutter and the aspirations,

sits

me.

Walking

I was driving by our urban lake one afternoon this week, and heard a tiny voice inside my head say,

‘Walk around the lake.’

Ok,

I thought,

committed to my new plan of slowing down and listening.

After dropping off several bags of used books at George’s school, I returned to the lake and walked its perimeter.

The weather was cold, but the air was still.

It was just me alone with the sounds of my steps, my breath.

I passed a handful of senior citizen couples, we all smiled at each other and said hello,

and one older gentleman deeply engrossed in preparing his fishing line as he sat on a bench,

and, oh yeah,

these guys.

Why hello, Canada Geese.

I see you.

Here

we all are.

Thich Nhat Hanh writes,

Walk wherever you are. Don’t wait for the perfect forest path. Even when you go to the bus stop, make it into a walking meditation. Even if your surroundings are full of noise and agitation, you can still walk in rhythm with your breathing. Even in the commotion of a big city, you can walk with peace, and happiness, and an inner smile. This is what it means to live fully in every moment of every day of your life.

My Little Girl

Our sweet Olivia perfectly engaged in her own walking meditation -this photo taken many years ago by my dear friend Andrea.

On love, love, and love

On love, love and love…

I actually had a long post all written up for today, but have decided to scrap it –

To be honest, I am finding myself in the midst of a deep period of change right now. Outwardly, there is much going on in my life to manage-

and inwardly, I am feeling called to look at things in a new and lighter way.

It is all good and beautiful and perfectly right,

but it is too soon for me to write about it all,

as my thoughts still need time for better definition and clarity.

So,

on this beautiful long weekend I plan to drink many cups of tea, take several long and healing walks, watch a few movies with my family, read and read and then read some more in my most comfortable and inviting chair, perhaps have a glass or two of red wine,

and let the love and life and beauty that surrounds me just soak right in.

I send you all love and hope for this Valentine’s Day,

that you may find your own ways to bask in the love that most surely surrounds you,

whether it be in the extending light and promise of Spring,

family and children,

sustaining friendships,

a loving partnership,

a nurturing relationship with self,

or just a general sense of love and peace all around.

Love, in all ways, is always worth celebrating.

We are
People who need to love, because
Love is the soul’s life,

Love is simply creation’s greatest joy.

Hafiz

First Ever Guest Blog!

My dear friend, Lyndon Penner, and I are each guest-blogging for each other this week. Lyndon has written on the subject of peace, and I have written a piece for his blog, ‘Jadecypress: One Voice Calling out from the Garden’ that fits within his subject matter of nature and gardening. Please visit jadecypress.wordpress.com to find more of Lyndon’s beautiful writings as well as my contribution. Lyndon Penner is a gardener, CBC columnist, environmentalist, author and teacher. It was a both an honour and a joy to collaborate with someone I deeply admire, and whose friendship I treasure.

What could be a better way to build bridges and peace in the world than for two writers who respect and admire each other to come together and collaborate? I am reminded of how CS Lewis and JRR Tolkien used to get together and compare writings and possibilities, and while I wouldn’t dream of comparing myself to these two giants of literature, I like the idea that through the ages, writers have been encouraging and inspiring and supporting one another.
Karen is a dear friend of mine, and I asked her to write a guest post for my blog. To my delight, she agreed and asked if I would write one for hers! I was thrilled to be able to do so for her, but also a little intimidated. Karen’s audience is different than my audience, and could I really write something that would appeal to her followers? I am not a flavor everyone enjoys, and that’s fine with me, but it’s also good for me to get out of my box and write something for a different group of people.
I think it’s so important that whatever we do in life, we encourage and help each other. I am always so happy to see groups of people working together for a common good, rather than to see people with a common dream at odds with one another, which is too often the case.
If you are an artist, and you paint, I think you should find other artists and encourage them in their painting. Talk about your work together. Support and build one another up. If you sing, find other singers and see what you can do together. The same for musicians. Or sculptors. Or ceramic artists. If we all worked together in our respective fields, wouldn’t the world be a better place? I have a friend named Cheryl who does the same thing for a living that I do. We are quite equally matched in terms of skills and expertise, and when I was really down and out Cheryl went through her contacts and found some extra work for me at a time when I really needed it. This is unheard of in many other professions. Chefs do not share recipes. Graphic designers do not share ideas. Yet gardeners often come together to help each other out. I know someone else who does the same work that I do, and she sees me as a threat. She is nice to me in person, but behind my back she would do anything she could to sell me up the river. I feel sorry for this woman and how insecure she is. How much better would life in our world be if we combined our collective talents rather than try to stamp out anyone who might be better than we are?

Winter is a hard time for many of us. Especially prairie dwellers. Even those of us who grew up here in 30 below and are accustomed to the cold do not necessarily enjoy it. There are different kinds of winter souls. There are some who purchase snowmobiles or cross country skis or toboggans or snowboards and just make the most of every minute. I have friends who long for snow so they can get out there and do winter sports. I am not one of those people, but I am envious of them. How, in the long, dark days of January and February (and often into March and April) can we keep the faith and go bravely forward? It is cold outside; often too cold to be outdoors, and many of us begin to feel the effects of short day light and cabin fever. It takes a stalwart and hardy person to live here. As a gardener, winter is especially hard for me because my income is severely reduced and I am usually stressing about money, but never mind that. Winter is hard because we live in a harsh land; a fact often overlooked when we consider the conveniences of “modern living”. Having gardened in the tropics, I now understand the value of winter. Winter gives my soul a period of rest. There are no weeds to pull in February. There is no grass to mow and no harvesting to be done and no insects to contend with. The trees cast long shadows as I sit by the window and at night I can hear their twiggy fingers tapping against the glass. The garden in winter is at rest. The snow is beautiful. It is peaceful. There are so many on the globe who have never seen snow. Here, we see it for so much of the year we take it for granted. The snow covers the ground, and beneath it the perennials and the small creatures are all resting, all asleep and tucked away, waiting the return of spring. Sometimes, I sense their peacefulness as they dwell in their grottoes beneath the snow and earth, and sometimes I am sure I can feel the spirits of bears and skunks and bats as they slumber in forgotten caves and tunnels in the mountain. How full and beautiful our year is because of the rest that winter brings. We have so glorified “busy” in our society that we have forgotten to rest, to be peaceful, to lie down and let the gales sweep over us. Winter reminds us to be still and to await the return of longer days and songbirds, and winter is a good teacher if we allow it to be.

Finally, the last thing I would like to remark upon is how beautiful the world is. It is so very easy to become despairing, to lose hope, to feel lost. With climate change and the tar sands and the corruption of our government (among other things), it can become so tempting to throw in the towel and feel like there is no point in even bothering with trying to make the world a better place. The world is still very much a worthwhile place to be. There are so many reasons to hope. When I speak at universities or gardening conferences, people are always asking me about native plant restoration and things they can do to help the bees. I see young people give up their seat on the bus for an elderly person. I have seen young men gallantly hold open the door for women, and I have seen strangers offer up radiant smiles to me for no other reason than we are passing each other on the street. The sun still rises, and it is lovely. The full moon is as gorgeous as it has ever been, and the stars still shine on. The ocean still offers us the songs of whales and the forests still offer us moss covered rocks to ponder and contemplate. The world is a beautiful and hopeful place, if we want it to be. As you go through your journey this week and this winter, I wish you hope and beauty. I wish you peace and collaborations, and I wish for you the knowledge that you can make a tremendous difference in this world.

On forgiveness, letters new and old, and no more single digits

On Forgiveness

‘The practice of forgiveness is our most important contribution to the healing of the world’ Marianne Williamson

Of course.

If everyone from ex-spouses to kids on playgrounds to leaders of states and religions found it in themselves to forgive each other,

the world would suddenly look very different.

I know,

far easier said than done.

The roots of conflicts are long, twisted and deep,

and it can feel impossibly difficult to get past unimaginable betrayals and hurts of all kinds.

Still,

forgiveness has been on my mind as of late.

Richard Holloway, a Scottish writer, wrote

‘When true forgiveness happens it is one of the most astonishing and liberating of the human experiences’.

Yes.

I get it because

I had a moment like that once. A moment of forgiveness that was utterly astonishing and liberating that caught me completely by surprise.

I am not ready to write about it yet, but in due time, I will.

One day over the Christmas holidays however, I did experience an afternoon of

mini-forgiving,

I don’t even know what else to call it.

It was a very hushed and thoughtful sort of afternoon in Waterton. The weather was frigid and we were hanging out in our cottage, each of us doing our own thing.

Random long-ago events and people kept popping into my mind,

distasteful little snippets of memories that I didn’t even realize were weighing on me…

The teacher that made fun of me in grade school because I wrote too much,

the old boyfriend whose stinging, guilt-inducing words I can still hear,

the friend who lied to me,

the time I lied.

So,

as I remembered the old hurts,

based on my distorted and fuzzy memories,

I did what felt right and quietly and gently just let each one go.

They didn’t know any better and I didn’t know any better.

Binding layers slowly drifting away, fragments of forgiveness released

to dissipate,

a seemingly insignificant exercise but not,

one afternoon’s humble contribution towards the healing of our world.

Letters new and old

Now that I am in the business of card creation and retail,

I have been thinking a lot about the wider context of sending and receiving letters, cards and messages,

especially given that I am also a writer.

My dear friend Charlotte and I used to laugh over the memory that when we were kids I could spend hours in office and stationery stores, whilst she was enamored with drugstores.

Hence, she is now a physician and I am…..well, still smitten with words and paper.

Preparing to write this piece, I looked through just one of the boxes I have that is full to the brim with cards, letters, and notes that I have received over the years,

identifiable scripts of family and friends, pictures the kids have drawn,

even doodles, quotes, and bits and scraps of paper that have for one reason or another captured my attention,

my stashes of paper love,

my inspiration.

This is the recent stuff,

I could dig much deeper to the time of

pre-Dan, pre-kids, pre-this-life-now,

but those particular collections I keep hidden farther away but still kept to be found one day,

when my kids are ready to know the fullness of who I was before them.

For now, though, I am far more captivated by the more recent bits,

Truly,

these are the stories of me and us,

the love-filled evidence that both makes up and fills up my heart.

There is, I believe, such tremendous power in telling people how we feel about them,

and an even greater power in actually taking the time and energy to write our feelings down and let people hold onto and savor our messages,

tangible reminders of support and love.

I am so delighting in this path that I am now on, and I look forward to talking in more expansive ways about the possibilities around sending and receiving all sorts of messages of love and peace,

because I am certain that there’s something in all of that that’s a little more sacred and precious

than we even realize.

No more single digits

This week our George turned 10.

We are undeniably leaving the world of young children and entering the more complicated realms of tweendom and teenager-hood,

and even wedding planning and such!

I am, however, ready for the wild ride.

Truth be told, even despite the more trying days (and there are trying days),

I have never quite gotten over the feeling that

I am the lucky one that gets to mother these three and witness the unfolding of their beautiful lives.

I suspect that I have just as much to learn from them as they do from me.

maybe more.

Mom, today would be your birthday too.

You would be 68.

and I wish, as I have wished a hundred thousand times before, that you were here to guide us and enjoy these kids, as you would have done ever so completely,

but the truth that I have always trusted and known

is that you are.

On balance, gathering, and weathering the cold

Balance

At Dan’s staff party this year, we dined at an Italian restaurant where the champagne flowed freely and endlessly. It was the kind of winter’s evening where the ambiance was dark and intimate, the conversation bubbly and enticing, and the hours lost their definition.

The next morning, however, I woke up with an excruciating headache.

This is something that rarely happens to me anymore,

I am too old for it, I have far too much to do, and it’s simply not worth the toll that it takes on my body.

However, I was able to look at my situation from two angles that felt utterly refreshing,

one being the decision that I would not waste a minute feeling angry at myself or regretful (what’s the point),

and secondly,

I was able to immediately recognize that I had understandably lost my balance,

my footing.

This festive evening had followed a few weeks of relentless work and preparations for Christmas, my business, and events we were hosting. I had often sat at my computer until 11pm and neglected my walking, my yoga, my meditation, regular meals, my peace,

in favor of emails and determinedly charging through my to-do list.

No wonder I had been driven to excess,

to the point where my body severely jolted me back to sanity and the much needed stillness of a day on the couch.

Balance, it seems, has been my lifelong lesson

and my worthiest of pursuits.

When I am comfortably in the flow, everything feels quite smooth and right.

I spend time with my family and friends and regroup with time on my own. I get restorative sleeps and spend enough time moving my body. I eat well but allow myself occasional treats. I work hard but leave time for play. I spend time creating and planning, but also get through the more mundane details of my work. I read and I write, I cook, and I play with my paints and felts. I listen to music and relish in quiet. I give but allow myself to receive. I dream but stay grounded. I am energized by the stimulation of people and culture, coffee shops and bookstores, but then I happily retreat to the hushed quiet of nature. I visit and share, brainstorm and question, but also trust and

I breathe and I breathe and I breathe.

Balance.

My New Year’s wish for you is the manifestation of your own sort of balance, however that may look,

not necessarily found in each hour or day, but in the more general stream of things,

and then loving gentleness with yourself, too, when you inevitably falter,

and begin again.

Gatherings

‘I was thinking back to the first night when we were all cuddled up with the fire going, getting ready to watch a movie and I had such a warm and secure feeling, like you do when you are a child and you are surrounded by people you love. It was such a lovely moment.’

This is an excerpt from the message my aunt wrote me to after our little holiday family reunion in Waterton this week.

Judy summed it up beautifully.

Family in its highest expression is finding that place where we feel safe and nurtured and awash in unconditional love.

My New Year’s wish for you

is that you may find yourself enveloped in moments such as these this year,

held in the very bosom of your tribes,

and beautifully aware of the magical perfection of these times.

I am increasingly convinced that these sorts of gatherings will ultimately be looked upon as the most precious treasures of our lives.

Weathering the Cold

I am NOT a fan of the cold. I have lived in this great white north all of my 42 years, but still I rail against its winters. I curse the biting air, and resent my frozen extremities. I say again and again to Dan, ‘this is not the climate I was meant for.’ I force myself out into the weather, dressed in a ridiculous multitude of layers but I am still not warm.

Dan calls this one, ‘Karen is frozen stiff’

I often will sink into my steaming hot bathtub up to 3 times on particularly frigid days, even just for a few minutes to warm up,

for the day, for the afternoon, for bed.

Yet,

this is where I live,

and there is undeniable beauty in the frost, in the icicles, in the stillness, in the blue tinge, in the low winter’s light that is almost mystical.

And so,

I carefully bundle up once again and head out down the streets and sidewalks as my feet rip-rip-rip on the snow,

and sometimes I am not annoyed,

but am rather captivated and even delighted by the magic of this winter wonderland that many in our world will never get to know.

So,

this third and last New Year’s wish for you is that you may be brave and resilient and tenacious enough to withstand

the snow, the harsh storms, the pounding wind,

and the dark times when hope and comfort falter,

and that you are also able to find the beauty in wherever you are,

and that above all you have a home, a fire, a cup of tea, a soft blanket, a warm meal that eventually and surely

calls you in from the cold to bring you comfort and warm your toes.

Happy, happy New Year my inspiring friends.

The best is yet to come.

On ex-wives and new wives, peace at Christmas, and God only knows….

On ex-wives and new wives

This Christmas Eve, there will be fourteen at our table. Every year, the familial combination is a bit different depending on who’s available,

but this year our little crowd will include

Dan’s parents,

Dan’s sister and her husband,

my brother and his partner,

and our kids, including Alex and her fiance.

Oh, and of course Alex’s mom Glenna and her partner, Steve (yes, I do mean Dan’s ex-wife and her boyfriend).

For many, many years, people would tell me that I should share the story of how our blended family all gets along so well. Interestingly enough though, now that I actually have a platform to write from,

it is a story that seems so fixed and normal to our reality that I even forget to mention it.

There has been an open letter circulating recently, however, that was written by a woman to her ex-husband’s second wife. In it, she expresses her heart-felt gratitude and love towards this woman who loved her daughter as her own. It is a wonderful story of healthy and mutually respectful co-parenting.

After reading this post,

I realized I had some things to say about co-parenting and blended families, too…

When people have asked us, over the years, what our secret to success has been,

each of us (Glenna, Dan, myself, Alex) will point fingers at one or the other and say, ‘It’s all because of her/him/them,’

but the reality is that it has required an investment of trust and acceptance from everybody that has sat at our table at one time or another,

from grandparents to aunts and uncles to cousins and neighbours and friends.

Sabotage can come from any direction, but love coming from every direction can work unusual miracles.

And, if I were to respond to that letter that has been making the rounds and write my own,

from the vantage point of the second wife.

I would say,

Thank you, Glenna, for trusting me with your daughter.

I realize only now, the immensity of your generosity in letting me openly play my part in her life.

Thank you, too, for encouraging her into the arms of my family, and my ways….

Our approaches to parenting have not always been the same, but that never has been an issue,

as we each have always respected and seen the value in each other’s opinions,

and talked through whatever issues have come up until we all agreed.

This is where it started,

but it quickly became so much more because, ultimately, sharing a daughter means sharing a life.

Glenna, time and time again you have brought joy and laughter and hilarity to our birthday parties, our Sunday dinners, our celebrations, our family weekends.

When Alex’s siblings were born, you rushed to the hospital and loved them at first sight. And now, you are their Glenna.

And when my mom was dying, you washed my dishes, ran my errands, comforted me, and held my baby.

These are the sorts of things a person never forgets,

and definitely not the sorts of things a woman generally expects from her husband’s ex-wife. You are so much more than that, and at the same time not that at all. You are simply ‘our Glenna’.

You have been there for all of the important stuff, Glenna, and cheered us all on in equal measure.

Everybody has played a part in making this work,

but you, Glenna, welcomed me into your heart without a moment’s hesitation,

and that paved all of our way.

Peace at Christmas

Some people manage to keep Christmas craziness and chaos at bay,

this is something I have never quite been able to manage.

To be perfectly honest,

I truly and desperately want to find everybody the most perfect gift, wrap with creativity and whimsy, plan and prep marvelous feasts, attend every beautiful affair, make my own cards and send every relative a personal letter complete with recent photos, experiment with fun new cookie recipes as well as make all of the traditional favorites, and still find time to curl up with my family and watch all the holiday favorites whilst drinking home-made cocoa with always real whipped cream,

all this at the same time as starting my own business.

Here’s what I have come to realize that I direly need to accept.

Much of this may only happen in my head,

and that’s ok.

Time to say it again Karen,

that’s ok.

At the very least, I will certainly manage food on the table, a few presents under the tree and happy kids,

and what more could we really want, when this is so much and all I have ever wanted,

anything else is beautiful gravy.

God Only Knows

Alex introduced us to this lovely little piece,

and given that Love Actually is one of our all-time favourite Christmas movies,

and that we are a family that tries to keep believing in magic and possibility,

it does seem like the perfect way to end this year.

Merry Christmas everybody. Thank you for all of the love, all of the comments, all of the encouragement. It has been a beautiful and interesting year and I look so forward to all that is to come. Treasure your homes and your loved ones and yourselves. Together, we can create peace at home.

Our old spruce, my new venture, and gratitude

Our old spruce

This week we said goodbye to the giant old spruce in front of our house.

It was a sudden decision to cut her down.

Dan had heard the tree creaking and cracking early on in the week. We consulted with two different arborists and both recommended, for safety’s sake, taking the tree down as soon as possible. By Friday, all that was left was a massive stump full of numerous decades of rings and a mess of sawdust on our lawn.

We may not often directly reflect upon the presence of the trees around us,

and certainly I have not spent much time over the years being that aware of our lost spruce.

Why would I?

when she has been so steady, and rooted, and constant.

Yet, nothing ever stays the same and everything has a life span. We all know that-

and on Friday morning as Alex and I looked up her for the last time,

I clearly understood that even the strongest and most powerful of trees grows old and weary.

Our friend and neighbour across the street, Lorraine, said it best,

‘Sad. Such an amazing tree, and it lived a great life, watching over our kids as they grew and celebrating at the block parties. Always closest to the action.‘

Another friend and neighbour, Judy, brought up the children’s story The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein,

and it was easy to see the connection,

as our old tree, our protectress, has given us much without ever asking for anything in return.

It is winter, and she leaves a bare and terribly noticeable vacant space,

but in the spring,

we will plant a new tree.

My new venture

Last night, I launched my new project.

To learn more, please check out my Facebook page

or my website.

I have said before that life can be likened to a trail of breadcrumbs.

We may not really know where we are going,

but each crumb, each event, each friend, each moment,

leads us to the next.

And so we ultimately find that where we are going is simply along the road.

For me, it does feel as if everything has lead to this,

and so it just expands and continues,

and I am delighted by the unfoldment.

Gratitude

Many of my friends and family came to see my PeaceCards last night and my new little stationery shop,

and though it was an exciting time to show what had been created and what I had to share,

all of that felt completely secondary to the joy I felt at seeing so many faces that I love.

I was reminded, again, that our relationships and connections are always what matter most,

‘That love is all there is, Is all we know of love.’ Emily Dickinson

What do you do?,wildflower inspiration, and my birthday…..

What do you do?

I have been asked this question 7 gazillion times.

Basically, if I leave the house, someone asks me this question.

Sometimes, all I can do is pause and stare blankly because even though I have been asked this question the aforementioned 7 gazillion times, I still don’t quite know how to answer,

nor have I yet come up a with a satisfactory reply.

What do I do?

Like…..what do I do with my time???

hmmmm…..well I plan meals and buy groceries and pay all of our bills and manage our finances and correspondence and maintain records for Dan’s limited company and put on holidays and family events and go to meetings and take minutes and send e-mails and receive emails and meet with teachers and make appointments and cancel appointments and re-schedule appointments and go to umpteen functions to help Dan represent his firm and do laundry and run up and down the stairs and help my daughter manage her dyslexia and help her with homework and studying and I drive the kids to activities and school and I run errands and sign forms and talk all of my 3 kids through issues that arise and I write a blog and I sometimes do courses online and I write and I write and I write and I read and I read and I did ‘grief recovery’ for a while, and I try to keep us all healthy and active and fit and dressed and organized and calm and happy and I dream and I think and I plan and I clean the kitchen and I make food and I clean the kitchen and I make food and I clean the kitchen and I make food.

Is there a name for that?

I haven’t come up with one, and if I was to start spouting off a list such as this one to my waiting listener it all starts to sound a bit silly and perhaps even a little desperate, and not nearly as impressive as those one word answers that neatly and clearly sum up one’s profession,

like lawyer, doctor, professor, librarian, accountant, or architect.

For a long time, I really struggled with this,

because I am a perfectionist and a high achiever and an academic at heart.

Yet, after having my first baby I left my teaching career

and delved into twelve years of love and grief and family and absolutely consuming domesticity.

And here I sit now, in a bit of a blur,

thinking to myself what just happened?, and

excuse me but how many years did you say have gone by?

Still, for countless significant and beautiful reasons, I do not regret a single moment,

which does not mean to imply that I have not also felt a crisis of identity throughout those years,

or that I have not questioned my worth and contributions, value and purpose, hundreds of times.

Nor has it always mattered that I have been told over and over by my husband and kids that my worth and value are immense and true.

I have often had a hard time believing them,

given that we live in a culture that has a very specific definition of success, and I am surrounded by so many friends and peers who are wondrous examples of that fixed societal definition,

while I have been at home.

Yet,

I have come to my own definition of success whilst being forced to find my worth separate from a label, and I can so clearly see now the shining radiance in so many around me, regardless of what they ‘do’.

True success, I believe, is all about character and has everything to do with how we move through the world, and less to do with what we do in the world.

It’s about integrity, confidence, and generosity,

and it implies kindness and openness and courage,

traits that take time, tears, commitment and a trust in life to develop.

I understand now, too, that every person’s life trajectory is unique and that none of us are really in a place to judge all of the factors and unique circumstances that may land a person on a particular path.

A better, more interesting question to go around asking people might be,

What do you love to do?

Or even just,

What do you love?

Wildflower Inspiration

Check out this lovely little video produced in partnership with Travel Alberta to promote the annual Wildflower festival in Waterton, held every June.

Our wonderful friend, Lyndon, opens up the video, and speaks with such joy and passion about what he loves.…..

My Birthday

Something I LOVE is…..

my birthday. I do.

I love deciding that for a whole day I am not going to wash a dish, or cook, or worry, or hurry.

I love savoring wishes and love and connection from all the people that I love.

and……

I love how excited my kids get, almost as excited as if it was their birthdays.

I love how they jump out of their beds in the morning and hop onto ours with wishes and kisses and surprises,

and,

I love the feeling of treating myself and listening to my whims, and I always think,

We ALL need to do this more of this.

If you happen to bump into me tomorrow,

I will likely be sipping my London Fog in Chapters with Dan and the kids, or I will be perusing the books for an extra long time, or I might be checking out the lovely wares at the Christmas artisan fairs while getting terribly excited about Christmas, or perhaps I will be enjoying a gorgeous dinner out with my family.

How lucky am I?

and,

The best is yet to come…….

On Jian, 365 Days of Wonder, and exciting things ahead….

On Jian

Never has it been my intention to routinely address big news stories –

That is not what this blog means to be about.

Usually, I graze over the news. I want to know what is going on in our world

and I want to be able to speak intelligently to issues,

but I have learned that I cannot fixate on upsetting current events –

Also, I have lived long enough to understand that things are not what they first appear to be, and nothing is fixed,

or black and white.

As well, my energy and focus is better served when it is gently oriented towards my own little corner of the world.

Peace at home.

Occasionally, though, a story feels deeply significant and I am drawn to speak to it.

Or sometimes, a story veritably rocks my little corner of the world, my very perception of the world, and I find myself suddenly obsessing.

So it was when Jian Ghomeshi’s story broke and I read that first Facebook post of his while standing in our kitchen after supper that Sunday night.

For the next few days, I couldn’t even look away so crazy deep was my need to understand. Even as I was reading article after blog after comment after article, I was baffled by my own intense reaction and kept wondering why this was all hitting home so hard.

How could I be so emotionally involved?

How could I possibly be feeling betrayed by someone I didn’t even personally know.

I have had a few conversations with friends about the whole messy unfolding affair since,

and have realized that I have not been the only one really struggling with this –

Now that some time has passed, though, I am ready to share my emerging thoughts…

I have always wanted and needed to believe in the basic goodness of people, and I really don’t think I am alone in this desire.

People crave mentors and heroes and wise and loving leaders.

In this crazy and hard world that so often makes no sense at all,

there is a very deep part of us that fervently looks everywhere for wise guidance and loving leadership.

However,

mentors, if we are lucky enough to find them, come and go,

people we admire die and or leave us,

those that we put on pedestals often come crashing off and down,

and

At the end of the game, pawns and kings go back into the same box. (italian proverb)

Time and time again in my life, I have looked around for that perfect hero/mentor/guide and realized that at the end of the day that

I must be her, and she must be me.

We must all ultimately find that integrity and clarity within or we will forever find ourselves floundering.

Peace at home.

Also,

Thank you, Jian, for re-opening a terribly important conversation around violence.

You ended up releasing a veritable tidal wave of emotionally charged thoughts and opinions, stories and impressions, experiences and perceptions that just won’t stop.

As with a traditional Native American talking circle, you held the stick first and it is now being passed around our giant country-wide circle where all have finally been given a new chance to speak out and be heard.

There was an imbalance of power that is righting itself as each new voice finds its footing, a disconnect that is re-wiring to something a little more truthful and real,

as this circle of conversation only continues to widen and inevitably expands to include the deeply important issues at the very heart of this complex and disturbing story.

This is where the seeds of healing and action are always sown, after all, in the listening and the acknowledging.

365 Days of Wonder

Who here has read Wonder by R.J. Palacio, the beautifully written story of August Pullman?

Auggie was born with a terrible facial abnormality and in an attempt to protect him from the outside world,

his parents have home-schooled him his whole life, but then decide to send him to middle school. The book is narrated by Auggie and those around him. It is a funny, gorgeous, moving story about courage and acceptance.

I first heard about Wonder from a staff member at Olivia’s middle school. Her school loved the book so much that they sought out corporate funding to purchase every student their own hard copy,

and even made a quote from the book their motto for the year,

‘When given the choice between being right or being kind, choose kind.’ W. Dyer

Recently, I saw a follow-up to this book in Chapters called 365 Days of Wonder. I bought it immediately.

365 Days of Wonder is a collection of beautiful precepts or words to live by, inspired by the middle school teacher in Wonder, Mr. Browne, who loves to use quotes in his teaching.

This companion book to Wonder further explores the character of Mr. Browne,

and is the most lovely compilation of daily ‘precepts’ garnered from all sorts of sources

from ancient Egyptian tombstones to fortune cookies to original contributions.

I know that there are countless books out there full of quotes,

and that social media feeds are brimming with positive affirmations and all of this can start to feel old,

but I promise you that this book offers up something fresh and quite special.

Exciting things ahead…..

As a child, November was always my favourite month. My birthday is in November~

artwork by Olivia

In November we can start to feel excited about Christmas in a way whereby all the wonderful possibilities of what the holiday might look like are still far-off and dreamy.

Even snow-falls have a more magical quality in early Winter.

This November feels especially ripe with beautiful promise. At the end of the month I will be revealing a project that has been in the works for over a year,

and I am as giddy as this guy~

artwork by George

On speaking out, our house of Gryffindor, and looking up

On Speaking Out

Two weeks ago, I wrote about dyslexia, a complex issue which we deal with in our household every day.

After writing about it, I noticed a Facebook friend had written a post about her struggles around educating a new crop of teachers about the accommodations that her son requires to be successful.

I shared my article with her, and she shared this fantastic new find with me…..

The author Ben Foss, is identified as having dyslexia himself, and discusses his personal journey and offers wonderful perspective. He writes,

‘Whereas most other books or ‘experts’ will promise a cure for your child, I’m here to say that there is no disease. In the mainstream dyslexics are the minority (1 in 10), but that doesn’t make us less valuable. We just do things a little differently. To use a commercial metaphor, it’s like we’re Macs, whereas the majority of people are PCs. This book – and your mission as a parent – is about moving the model for your child from dyslexia as disease to dyslexia as identity, an identity we can all be proud of.’

His position is brilliant and so accessible.

Last week I spoke about dyslexia in the context of ‘acceptance’, and Foss clearly promotes this sort of attitude as being both necessary and healthy.

Doesn’t this apply to everything? So often,

once we claim something, own it, and speak to it,

its gripping power over us fades away. Isolated in our houses and runaway minds, everything seems bigger and harder and scarier,

but just maybe outside our doors supportive communities are waiting to be formed,

and partnerships and positive alliances are possible.

Though we may fear we are alone in our struggles,

the reality is that there are people everywhere who are going through the very same things.

If dyslexia affects your life or someone close to you, please pick up this book, and feel free to comment or message me your thoughts.

We live in such exciting and interesting times. Technology, connectedness, and advances in education are granting us infinite possibilities to empower every individual to reach her or his fullest potential,

so that we are now poised to create a better world for all,

where no one feels any shame for simply being who they are.

original artwork by Olivia

Fun fact: 35% of American entrepreneurs are dyslexic.

Our House of Gryffindor

There are two stories that have particularly captivated the hearts and imaginations of our household,

and inspired more Halloween costumes than any other,

Wizard of Oz and Harry Potter.

George has been a cute baby munchkin, Olivia has been Dorothy at least twice (maybe 3 times?) as well as the heart-searching Tinman,

and after my mom died I splurged on a pink Glinda the Good Witch costume,

suddenly smitten with the concept of traveling around in a protective and magical bubble.

The famous Harry Potter has had at least as much influence in our house. All six books provided the backdrop to Alex’s childhood. She lived and loved Harry Potter and his adventures with all of her being, and still does,

and George appears to be firmly set on a similar track.

Last year he was the spitting image of Harry, Olivia was Hermione, and Alex and Ry were also from the house of Gryffindor and this year,

our independent and deep-thinking boy has decided to shift to the darker side and emulate Harry’s nemesis, Draco Malfoy. How fun is that?!

Being an English major, I could go on and on about the symbolism and importance of these western world myth-stories, but

let’s just simply say that it’s fun to dress up and step outside of ourselves for a day,

and feel different,

more powerful, magical, and courageous,

why not?

Looking Up

Last week I had a fancy echo stress test on my heart which involved me exercising on a treadmill with the goal of getting my heart rate up as fast as I could get it, and then quickly jumping off whilst maneuvering over the mess of wires that I was hooked up to, and then onto the bed perfectly adjusting my body so that the tech could take pictures before my heart rate slowed down.

This was all a bit worrisome and stressful for me, even though it all ended up being fine,

but it still used up a good day and a half or so in worry time.

Right after the test, we made our way out through the convoluted maze of the hospital and out the doors to find our vehicle,

then Dan pulled us in another direction to check out this view….

Later, George told me that he had noticed that very spot before my test and had even pointed it out to us, but we hadn’t heard or paid any attention to what he was saying.

How do we miss this stuff?

And, what a reminder that this is the sort of comforting beauty that we can find everywhere when we remember to just

look up.

———————————

It has been a difficult week in Canada, and our hearts collective ache,

but there are beautiful stories of love and connection already surfacing, as they always do, from times of tragedy. These small and simple stories of love and decency and kindness are the only way to ever find any sort of sense in it all, as we are pulled again into remembering

who we are and who we want to be~

history of our costumes and why? what we need to be -top 10!

God only knows

A song in honor of creating thing stogether – my project launched SOON!!!!!

	candidkay on Spring Comes
	Karen Westwood on Spring Comes
	Karen Westwood on Spring Comes
	candidkay on Spring Comes
	Anonymous on Spring Comes

	candidkay on Spring Comes
	Karen Westwood on Spring Comes
	Karen Westwood on Spring Comes
	candidkay on Spring Comes
	Anonymous on Spring Comes

Peace at Home Project

Karen Westwood Village: Peace-Building Topics

Uncategorized

On decluttering, walking, and my little girl….

On love, love, and love

First Ever Guest Blog!

On forgiveness, letters new and old, and no more single digits

On balance, gathering, and weathering the cold

On ex-wives and new wives, peace at Christmas, and God only knows….

Our old spruce, my new venture, and gratitude

What do you do?,wildflower inspiration, and my birthday…..

On Jian, 365 Days of Wonder, and exciting things ahead….

On speaking out, our house of Gryffindor, and looking up

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: