#death

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On Robin Williams, a goodbye and our block party

Robin Williams

It may seem that some people have such a strong and vibrant life force that the world can only sustain their blinding brightness for so long.

Consequently, when we suddenly find them gone, too young,
their absence is palpable
so deeply felt was their presence.

When Robin Williams died earlier this week, didn’t the world suddenly feel a little emptier, a little more hollow,
as the hole he left
gaped open?

Robin Williams was known for his comic genius, his unparalleled ability to improvise and his endless and unbounded wit and zaniness.

Yet, one of my favorite movies of all time featured him in a more serious role,
‘What Dreams May Come’. I have actually written about this movie in a previous post.

After news of Williams death, it was easy to imagine him,

wish him into a state of frolicking in a heaven of his own making, as that movie depicts –

completely, wildly, ecstatically and finally free.

Certainly, there is so much to be addressed about mental illness and thankfully this important conversation has been re-opened. My friend Lyndon, for example, has written very eloquently on the topic this week as have so many others.

The new revelation of Williams having been recently diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease is personally heart-wrenching too, as I watched my maternal grandfather struggle with this disease for all of my childhood.

Every time, though, that my thoughts take me back to Williams’ death, and I have pondered speaking to it,
it’s not so much the subject of mental illness that asks for my pen,

it’s laughter.

Robin Williams lived to make people laugh.

In death, I think, he would like nothing better than to be able to remind us to laugh…
Big, consuming, tears-streaming, right from the belly, pure and good, healing beautiful laughter –

wherever and whenever it can be found.

Many of us have read the quote, by French poet Antoine De Saint-Exupery, tweeted by Williams daughter, Zelda, right after his death.
“You – you alone will have the stars as no one else has them … In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky at night … You – only you – will have stars that can laugh.”

And then later she wrote,

‘To those he touched who are sending kind words, know that one of his favorite things in the world was to make you all laugh. As for those who are sending negativity, know that some small, giggling part of him is sending a flock of pigeons to your house to poop on your car. Right after you’ve had it washed. After all, he loved to laugh too.’

And so it is then, his death on one hand a booming call to take care of our hurting brothers and sisters, and to carefully tend to our own pain too,

and on another a reminder to play and laugh and abandon inhibitions.

Could we expect anything less from such a man who was able to take on the most serious of roles but then could effortlessly slip into the shoes of a genie or a nanny,

encompassing the wide spectrum of life~

One who seemed to bear the pain of the world,

but then could just as easily make the very stars laugh.

This beautiful humanity and heart-breaking vulnerability…

It’s in every single one of us.

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A Goodbye

Last night we said goodbye to a family that, for the past 5 weeks, has melded into ours.

For a little while, my kids were her kids and hers were mine.

Both our families have been in Waterton together for the last three summers and with each year the kids’ connection deepens as does our adult friendships.

For our combined brood, It has been the sort of play that can only happen within the freedom of summer.

Suppers of noodles or cereal at 10pm after one last bike ride. Hours of Rainbow Looming. Countless trips to the yogurt place and the gas station for penny candy. Racing to the frigid lake for a quick dunk.

This, to me, has always been why we chose Waterton.

After our friends drove away back to their ‘real’ lives and home, my two burst into tears,

feeling the immediate grief of their departure,

as well as the anxiety regarding the looming school year and the tightly packed schedule to come.

Next year we will meet again, of course, but we all will be one year older,

the same, but different too, as much will have changed.

It always does.

I suggested a walk to cheer my kids up and promised George frozen yogurt smothered with his choice of candy. On our way back to the cabin, they wanted to jump off the dock. They did this wildly and enthusiastically, recovering quickly from their sadness as kids tend to do. It is still summer and they are still free.

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We will miss you, beautiful Howeth family.

Our Block Party

This year marks ten years of block parties on our street. This party has strengthened community bonds in our pretty little neighbourhood like nothing else could have.

Let this be my expression of deep gratitude for this collaborative venture that has proven to all of us here that there is such beauty in this world to be created and found.

This year we have decided to celebrate in a more quiet and intimate way,

and take a year to get to know new neighbours and quietly but surely rejuvenate.

 

 

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on the fourth decade, Deathdays, and Carol’s RADIANT Garden….

The Forties

Though I have always enjoyed friendships with women of all ages, most of my contemporaries have now turned 40.

This is a milestone no matter what we tell ourselves, and is invariably a time to reflect and take stock.

Though aging, per say, has never really bothered me that much, I did find my world a little bit rocked a few years ago on my 40th,

by my own relentless and critical self-assessments of

where I thought I should be at, and what I hadn’t yet accomplished.

As with everything, once I managed to put a halt to the tricky mind games and flip everything in the direction of gratitude and love, it all looked pretty rosy again.

And so it is with my friends too,

once the birthday celebrations are complete,

here is what I am so often noticing about the women that I see and know that are now moving through their fourth decade….

They are far more likely to articulate how they really feel and what they intend and believe, without worrying about how it will be received.

They stand taller, smile more, and open up their hearts and hands more freely.

They have experienced loss, conflict, heart-ache, disappointment and they are thus stronger, wiser and far more beautiful than ever before.

They are less judgmental and less apt to dismiss, disengage, or allow themselves to be disempowered.

They have learned when to say ‘no’ and when to say ‘yes’.

They love their families, their friends, and the world with a passion and intensity that only grows with the passing years.

They are hopeful and are ready for change and adventure.

Many years ago, I heard the Dalai Lama’s surprising and famous quote, ‘The world will be saved by the western woman.’ I remember repeating this idea to Dan, and he whole-heartedly agreed.

So, my radiant girlfriends,  let’s get to it….

We have so many incredible and unprecedented resources at our disposal, and the confidence, understanding and love to move mountains.

It’s time.

Deathdays

This week was the eighth anniversary of my mom’s death. I know that the word ‘deathday’ seems morbid and abrupt, but still I decided to use it,

because we need a word for that day that speaks to the absolute truth of what it is.

In Mexico, of course, they have the  ‘Day of the Dead’ which is a holiday that has spread around the world to many cultures, and continues to gain worldwide popularity.

What a beautiful and healing and necessary concept,

time set aside to stop and remember,

acknowledge,

and celebrate our dead and our ancestors.

I know and have met so many people who have lost someone very close, and then  struggle to create meaning on the anniversaries of the deaths of their beloveds,

often attempting to create their own little rituals or ways of remembering.

On facebook, we see posts all the time on anniversaries of loss –

tributes and photos,

because our hearts desperately yearn to remember and we have no day set aside for our dead.

It can be so easy to sit in a sense of aimlessness on that anniversary, not quite knowing what to do,

or where to focus the emptiness and that need to

cry out,

You are gone, but you will always exist.

It doesn’t matter if it has been a year since the loss, or fifty years,

that yearning to simply acknowledge doesn’t just go away with time.

So, my beautiful mother that I adored heart and soul,

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and all of my grandmothers and grandfathers and aunts and uncles and friends and my dearest mentor,

and my unborn baby too,

you are not here anymore for me to talk to and hug and live out all of  life’s moments with, but

I still see you and hear you and feel you,

and know you.

You are my dead and on this day I am proclaiming

that I love you still.

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 Carol’s Radiant Garden

The ‘ritual’ that has evolved over the last eight years for us to honour and remember mom on the anniversary of her death, June 11,

is the planting of her garden in the planters beside our front steps.

Every year the kids and I choose a ‘theme’ and then let loose in the greenhouse, concerning ourselves less with flower names and care requirements,

and more with colour, feel and thematic appropriateness.

Some of our themes over the years have been

fairy garden, prairie grasses, enchanted forest, and the tropics.

The year Olivia came up with…..sunshine garden!

So, here it is, mom, your newest radiant and love-filled realm….

We all planted it last night after eating pizza and drinking our very best bottle of wine.

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We all most definitely love you still.

 

 

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On Raccoons, Make-up Free Selfies, and ‘Archetypes’

Every week I speak to three subjects: books, ideas, people, products, or innovations that I believe are peace-building, heart-opening, community-celebrating, love-spreading vehicles. Complaining and criticizing are easy traps to fall into, but I am convinced that building up holds far more power and transformative energy.

So, my sweet friends, here goes…Our world is a beautiful village and peace does begin at home.

1) Raccoon Rescue

A few of our neighbours jokingly call me ‘Snow White’ because I have an uncanny ability to attract wildlife.

We have had our share of mice and a few birds in the house over the years, all the cats from miles around seem to favour our yard, one day I came home and found a bat hanging from the window ledge in our kitchen, and for the past few years a mama raccoon has decided to make her nest in our attic.

So, either I am channeling some sort of friendliness to all creatures or we have a lot of accessible openings in our yard and house. To be fair, it is a very old house.

Either way, I have become (a little) less apt to shriek and panic when surprised by a new ‘visitor’.

After dropping Olivia off at school one day a few weeks ago, I returned home and discovered fragments of pink insulation spread out over our driveway. My lovely neighbour Lorraine saw me standing there assessing this surprising situation and came over. We both quickly concluded that Madame Raccoon, industrious and determined as she is, had returned.

Dan and I (13 years together have made us increasingly adept at problem solving) decided that there had to be a peaceful and easy solution to this problem and we would find it. I know that many folks (esp. our friends and family in Toronto) have consistent raccoon issues and might not have ANY patience for our willingness to work with Mrs. Raccoon, but so be it – raccoons are a little less common here.

We knew we needed help though. She was likely creating tons of damage in our attic and we needed her to move on out before she had her babies because that would be a bit of a game changer.

I googled pest control in our city, and called ‘Killer Pest Control’. The name seemed a little harsh but there weren’t a lot of options.

‘Mike’ agreed to help us.

He set up a trap, routinely checked on it, and debriefed us on raccoon behaviour.

When we came home from a weekend away and found our friend trapped, we called Mike and he came right over even though it was a Sunday afternoon. (Fortunately, her trauma may have been lessened by the full can of sardines in her trap). Along with his young daughter, Mike drove our masked mama down to the river bottom a fair distance away and made sure that was safely on her way to a new life.

Mike also phoned me right after the relocation mission to assure me that she was actually surprisingly non-aggressive and seemed content. He also reassured me that we did not need to worry about having a roof full of babies, rather the babies were still most definitely tucked inside her.

If that wasn’t enough, when Mike stopped by a few days later with our bill, he gave me yet another full report and yet more assurances that Ms.Raccoon was most likely doing just fine down by the river.

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Who would have guessed that even people under the guise of startling names like ‘Killer Pest Control’ can be peace-building, collaborative sorts finding creative ways to do their jobs with the very best level of kindness and integrity.

Thanks Mike.

2) Make-up Free Selfies

Many women have had the experience of being nominated to post a make-up free selfie on Facebook recently, myself included. I had immediate qualms, however, and decided against participating.

There are already pictures of me on Facebook sans makeup, I didn’t particularly feel like inviting new comments on my appearance, I didn’t know what this movement was for really, nor did I want to put pressure on anybody else to participate.

Despite my misgivings though,

I felt that the concept did have some merit in a culture obsessed with the perfect image,

but I didn’t think much more about it.

Then, I saw this article in the Globe and Mail and found myself agreeing with every word.

Later on that day, I came across an article from a blog called ‘Your Daisy Dose’, written by Daisy Raphael. Daisy is the daughter of our recently deceased beloved family doctor who died of pancreatic cancer.

Daisy wrote this intelligent piece from the depths of her heart and it is a devastatingly beautiful commentary on why she wouldn’t post a make-up free selfie.

Through her moving description of her father’s experience, she shows us the real face of cancer which has very little to do with make-up free, healthy faces.

Daisy, I truly appreciated hearing about your father’s last year, in all of its wholeness, and not just about the ‘good’ days.

I, too, watched my mom die of cancer and there is nothing glamorous about watching your too-young parent deteriorate before your eyes.

Also, thank you Daisy for having the courage to talk about death and dying. As a culture, we generally seem to be afraid of this subject and so many of us, as a result, are shockingly ill-equipped to deal with it when it happens to us.

Collectively, we are not properly taught how to support those who are grieving either. Telling our stories is an important step in the healing process, though, and I am so grateful for your openness and willingness to be vulnerable.

We desperately need to create more spaces for all of our stories.

Lastly, thank you Daisy for talking about the beautiful moments that invariably accompany watching a beloved one die. When the veil between life and death is thin, it seems that all emotions, and life itself, is amplified.

You described this perfectly.

3) ‘Archetypes’ by Caroline Myss

Long before I understood what the word ‘archetype’ even meant, I loved the idea of there being central themes and recurring common human traits. I was an English major after all. I love symbolism and have been drawn to things like fairy tales and tarot cards since forever.

Don’t we ALL love categorizing ourselves though?

Amost every day on Facebook, it seems, a new quiz can be found that will tell you what rock group, colour, animal, ‘Frozen’ character, or city you are. Today it was ‘Which 80’s cartoon character are you?’ (I got She-Ra, Princess of Power, in case you’re interested).

Generally, we do love this stuff. It is a quick and easy way to gain validation for being the way we are.

It is also affirmation that we are not who we are not.

Often, though, I am mostly annoyed with whatever quiz it is and I often don’t even finish because it never delves deeply  enough and I don’t resonate with most of the choices given. And really,  5 questions to neatly categorize a person!?

These are some of the reasons that I bought Caroline Myss’ book ‘Archetypes’, after hearing her speak in Vancouver last year. In her new book, Myss offers her version of 12 modern day archetypes  as well as a full gallery of further archetypes with which we may identify.  She even has a website whereby you can  –wait for it…..take a quiz and find out which archetype you are. What is refreshing, though, is that the results indicate your top archetypal influences rather than having it all be narrowed down to just one.

To be honest, as I read through Myss’ book, I could relate to elements of most archetypes (except the athlete!) but certainly agreed that certain archetypal influences fuel and motivate me more than others.

To a certain degree, it even gave me more permission to be me.

I yearn to write and create, for example, because I am a ‘creative’ and a ‘seeker’.

Simple as that,

but how often do we stifle our deepest yearnings and talk ourselves out of them? (I have done this for most of my life).

I think that is quite useful and freeing, as well, to be reminded that we are simply all not driven by the same forces.

Furthermore, we need diversity of thought and action.

The world requires  advocates, artists, caregivers, intellectuals, executives, rebels, spiritual seekers, visionaries, and athletes to blossom into fullness. It can even be argued, quite convincingly, that we need ‘fashionistas’.

Collectively and personally, we are melting pots of stories, mythical influences, ancient longings, triumphs and challenges that simply get re-told over and over.

Though there is always the danger of over-labeling which negates the beautiful complexities and limitless potential within us all, we can remember what I deem to be one of the greatest archetypal stories ever re-told,

that of the rising phoenix from the ashes, assuring us that we can and will overcome and transcend (thanks to J.K. Rowling for re-kindling the phoenix image for yet another generation).

Oh yeah, and use our powers for good.