#Canada

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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.

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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.

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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,

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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.

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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.

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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.

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Happy, happy New Year my inspiring friends.

The best is yet to come.

 

 

 

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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.

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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.

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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~

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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~

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artwork by George

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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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…..

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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.

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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,

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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,

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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….

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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.

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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!!!!!