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Spring Comes

dear friends,

I have been quiet for a few months.

It truly has been a winter,  an extended retreat into my home and into myself.

 

As do many women going through perimenopause, I found myself really struggling with related issues and recently underwent a hysterectomy. Christmas left me quite exhausted, then I needed to prepare my body and mind for surgery.

 

This extended time of introversion has been a beautiful gift though.

I am waking up to the understanding that as women we are very much cyclical beings, predictably and elegantly going through our own seasons. For many years, I have been so hard on myself for the times when I am less productive and engaged with the world,

not understanding that it is during these times that can feel so empty that all is in fact getting ready to be born again.

 

Over these last few months, I have thought often about my next steps, and the long and winding path that has brought me here. At times it has felt as if I have been waiting for a decade for something to happen,

and then I realize that in fact everything has happened.

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I have raised three children, I have buried a mother and a step-mother, I have undergone 3 surgeries one of which was quite major,  I have navigated the school system trying to implement alternative & workable programming, I have supported my husband in his busy and intense career, and have begun to sow the seeds of my own.

 

And so here I am now.

 

It feels as if a chapter has ended and a new one is about to begin. Our kids are getting older and I can feel subtle new realities beginning to take shape as life alters in interesting ways,

and this long and winding road now feels as if it has happened in but a moment.

 

In terms of my work, I need to announce a few things.

Most of you know that I have pulled out of my little retail space and am no longer selling stationery.  I will continue to do more workshops but they, too, are evolving into something new. This will be my last blog from WordPress as I am presently collaboratively  building a beautiful new website that I am so excited about, and much of my writing will stream from there.

 

 

Stay tuned friends.                         Spring is on its way.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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travel lessons and coming home

As many of you might be aware, last month we returned from a pretty significant trip (to us). Since coming home from Scotland, I have been mulling over exactly what it is I want to say about our experience. However,  rather than saying anything,

I have been gently lulled away by the events of early summer: a family reunion, some work, obsessively reading the Outlander series, worrying too much about politics etc….and so time has passed and  I have said nothing.

It’s time to write again, though, even though I often resist getting back to my computer. For me, experiences seem to need to simmer and percolate for a while so I can draw out what is actually worth being said.

Perhaps it is the introvert in me that always needs time and space, much of it, to simply make my own sense of things. I have also been thinking lately about the idea,

that sometimes we can honour experiences and events  by not talking about them.

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Nevertheless, here are the golden nuggets from Scotland that are asking to be published, lessons learned both across the waters and after coming home….

People are kind everywhere, people are hurting everywhere

It’s so obvious, but there it is. We have been so tempted as of late, to find way too many differences among us.  However, the more we travel the world, the more that we ultimately realize that throughout time and space, we really are in so many important ways, the same.

We love, we despair, we rejoice, we grieve. We laugh, we reach out, we make ourselves vulnerable,

and, in our own ways, we all hope for a better world.

 

Food is a gift

I am so curious about food, food prepared with delight and love never fails to bring me joy.

Food, to me then, is often what I am most curious about when I travel. How cultures prepare their food, where they find their inspiration, reasons for giving importance to certain foods, particular creative quirks, new ways of combining ingredients, new movements and philosophies  around food –

all of this deeply inspires me.

 

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Breakfast is my favourite meal. How yummy does this look?!?

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Seriously delicious seafood pasta dish at Jamie Oliver

At the tiny and quaint Kilted Lobster, for instance,  we were greeted with absolute hospitality, our kids as well. We truly felt welcomed into their space with open arms, as if it was their honour to feed us. The kids bravely tried an appetizer of delicate pigeon and haggis. Dan and I ordered the special, which was a half lobster with perfect green beans and a glass each of champagne. Simple, lovely perfection.

At the Gardener’s Cottage we celebrated Father’s Day with a brunch of the best meatloaf I have ever eaten served on top of heavenly sweet brioche topped with homemade Hollandaise. When I peeked behind the restaurant/cottage afterwards,

I saw a gorgeous rambling garden, a big wooden work table, a bbq, a true farm to table set-up in the very heart of a city.

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And then at the Glennfinnan House Hotel we ate in the dining room of our Highland inn, feeling as if we were encased in an old world of giant wood-burning fireplaces, plaids, dark wood and rich colours,protected from the driving rain and a sometimes forbidding landscape. We ate smoked fish, sausages, potatoes, porridge,

heartier foods stemming from a landscape where people need warmth and rich sustenance.

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History is so messy, present times are messy

My god, we have not been good to one another.

We forget, sometimes, our brutal and horrific pasts. Gory accounts from medieval times still haunt and shock (just ask my kids). Rivalries and wars, unthinkable crimes, and betrayals among nations are as old as time. Though we cannot use this is an excuse, that events have always been dark and challenging,

we do need to see that we have made some progress and acknowledge how far we have come.

 

We cannot escape ourselves and it is good to be together

We have a tendency to expect much of ourselves on holidays,

that we will see every sight, try every great restaurant, that every experience will be favorable, that we will all be on our best behavior, that we will come home completely rested and renewed.

These unreasonable expectations can create frustration and resentment as well as prevent us from simply being open to what happens. I have always struggled with expecting too much from vacations, and this trip was certainly no exception. However, this time I was able to reach a point where I felt a great deal more acceptance around the idea of simply letting things unfold

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Letting things unfold.

and enjoyed the experience of just being together in a new and beautiful place.

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All over the world, we need green spaces/ beauty

Dan and I often measure the worth of a city according to its green spaces and walkability.

 

                      Beauty and nature heal, restore hope and calm.  

Edinburgh, in particular, is bursting with green spaces and everywhere people are walking and enjoying the precious bits of sunshine that gift this perpetually wet country.

 

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It seemed generally, too, that their gardens, buildings, displays, museums and homes were quite often altars to beauty,

thoughtfully and carefully arranged.

 

Yet perhaps it is also the case that when we are discovering a new place we look up more, we see the beauty that’s right there for us to see.

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Many times in Scotland people said to us ‘we would love to see Canada’ and we would think to ourselves, ‘yes, but do you know how beautiful this place is too?’

 

And so it always is.

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Olivia, inspired, bought tulips for our little kitchen in the apartment we had rented

 

We can always find ourselves, a little more

All those rituals that I learned and lived in my grandmother’s home;

making tender, buttery shortbreads and big, dense fruitcakes at Christmas

constant summer tours of the garden and her yard: her precious roses, lily of the valley

eating rich stews and dumplings for family dinners, savouring sticky toffee pudding while tucked in beside her on the couch

standing in her bedroom excitedly trying on the red plaid kilt she bought for me

drinking sweet milky tea together in her kitchen in the afternoon,

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and of course I would think that teatime is the loveliest and most civilized ritual of all

Parts of me that I thought were me but were grandma, were Scotland, all along.

 

We think back through our mothers if we are women.     Virginia Woolf

 

Yes, and our grandmothers too.

 

 

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and in every church (kirk), I lit two candles

And coming Home is good.

And now, understanding myself more,  I can suddenly see things at home more clearly too.

I look up,

and I see my beautiful kitchen with so much light streaming in and I am inspired  to cook again.

We see our mountains and lakes, too, and are reminded that, my goodness, they are so very magnificent.

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I am reminded, too,  that there is such love here to bask in, from family and friends.

 

And…I have many projects and ideas simmering as I re-work plans and new directions,

but I feel less desperate, less ambitions, less in a hurry, more here, more grateful. Dan tells me he feels the same.

 

Coming home is good.

 

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my spring JOY list….

For a while now, I have been compiling in my head a bit of a Spring Joy list to share with you all.

These are some of the things that are currently inspiring and delighting me:

Yoga Glo:

I love this app. I was introduced to it by a lovely acquaintance over Christmas and I am still quite committed to it. You pay a monthly subscription fee, and then receive access to an enormous library of classes at all levels taught by fantastic and well-respected teachers. I appreciate being able to do quality yoga classes at home and on my own time (though we have lots of wonderful teachers locally too!), and I enjoy being able to explore a wide diversity of styles and approaches.

Cookbooks: Breakfast Love & Salad Love both by David Bez

I love meals in a bowl. Rice and veggies, nuts and seeds, greens and fruit, dressing, all deliciously layered. I love feeling good about what I am eating, and feeling good after I’ve eaten. George has yet to even entertain the idea of his meal in a bowl unless it’s a giant serving of Gorilla Munch, and like most families we sometimes  eat junk because we’re human and get tired, busy and un-inventive, but our kids generally know what real food is and I am happy that they understand that it’s important to feed themselves well.

These two cookbooks make me happy. They offer easy, healthy, pretty combinations of foods that are manageable to create and make eating interesting! In my compulsive way, I am working through the recipes, one by one as I can get to them. Cuz with me, everything’s a project!

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Self-Care: I recently facilitated a two part workshop on self-care, and I ended up learning sooooooo much about this topic. Clearly, we teach what we need to learn and there’s always more to learn and deeper places to delve. I was in awe of the gorgeous wisdom, grace, and love that just oozed out of first our beautiful guest speakers, but then out of the participants. Such beautiful magic can happen when we meaningfully gather to create, talk, and support one another. Stay tuned this summer for news on the fall PeaceCard line-up! Lots of new exciting ideas simmering….

PeaceCards: And so my work is unfolding. Slowly and surely it is beginning to take shape in a way that I always (ok, not always) trusted it would. It is about writing and cards and creativity and workshops and empowering and supporting each other and sending out love and gratitude into the world.
Still not sure this kind of a job has a name, but I am no longer attached to the idea that it needs one!

My kids: Whether it is George’s new habit of very seriously taking a cup of milky tea after school along with his toast that amuses me to not end,

or Olivia’s joyful performance of ‘CandyMan’ in her spring middle school musical,

or Alex managing her first year of teaching grade 1 with such perspective, courage, flexibility and immense dedication,

or our Ryland following his dreams with true heart and soul  – my goodness, these kids fill me up. It just doesn’t get better than watching these beautiful souls blossom and grow.

New Joyful Adventures:

So… nothing quite rejuvenates my spirit,  heart, perspective, and my understanding of where I fit in this world and what it’s all for like….

A GREAT BIG magical ADVENTURE!

We are  going on a trip that I have dreamed of and imagined forever and ever and ever. Finally making it happen is the fulfillment of a promise I made to myself long ago.

It is the very pilgrimage of my heart.

To say that I am excited doesn’t even begin to cover it…….

 

We travel initially, to lose ourselves, and we travel, next, to find ourselves.    Pico Iyer

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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let’s all be curious….

In our house we like to make things.

It can be a bit frustrating, because scattered all about are bits of paper, pens, half-finished projects, supplies for half-finished projects, balls of yarn and knitting needles, books about making things, little models, lego guys and pieces, more scraps of paper, pieces of paper folded up into accordions (that would be Dan, and these are everywhere), journals, more and more books, and……did I say pens.

It is a love-hate relationship I have with all of this stuff that I shove behind closed doors when people come over,

because on one hand I adore that we can all become lost in our own worlds of what to create and do next, but on the other hand I crave order and I yearn to  pair down and simplify.

However.

 

In the end, I know that  ‘making stuff’ wins because it brings us joy and feeds our souls.

And getting lost in a idea or  project can often feel invigorating and peaceful all at once.

 

For many years now, there has been quite a lot of talk about ‘passion’ and finding yours. There is some truth to this pursuit, of course, because who doesn’t want to find, explore and live out their passion for the rest of their days.

But for some, that idea might feel a little unreachable, vague, and confusing.

 

In her new book, ‘Big Magic’, Elizabeth Gilbert talks about this, and I love what she says,

Curiosity is the truth and the way of creative living. Curiosity is the alpha and the omega, the beginning and the end. Furthermore curiosity is accessible to everyone. Passion can seem intimidatingly out of reach at times – a distant tower of flame, accessible only to geniuses and to those who are specially touched by God. But curiosity is a milder, quieter, more welcoming, and more democratic entity. The stakes of curiosity are also far lower than the stakes of passion.

So… may lego guys, multitudes of colored pens and bits of yarn and paper be welcomed in this house.

 

 

A month or two ago, George and I were walking home from school and he said to me,

‘Mom,  I was kind of tired and cranky this morning and didn’t feel like going to school but I’m really glad I went. Had I not gone today, I would not have discovered my passion for sloths. I am even going to work at a sloth sanctuary when I grow up.’

He then proceeded to spend the entire rest of the afternoon and evening researching and sharing with us facts about sloths,

as well as intricately and repeatedly folding, until he had created an origami sloth.

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Now, to be honest, the whole sloth obsession seemed to run its course fairly quickly. George hasn’t mentioned this sloth sanctuary  dream job since that day, and so I feel fairly confident in my statement that I doubt his life will take him in this particular direction of sloth-saving.

 

But. What a perfectly beautiful dream to have for a day. A dream that completely seized him and carried him away into gentle imaginings of future days spent in peaceful and lush green sanctuaries,

                                                                                          then gently dissipated.

 

The very dreaming of it, though,

expanded his reality and sense of possibility.

 

This same kid recently recovered from a two and a half week rather stressful-for-all-of-us bout of painful cornea issues, due to some particularly severe allergies that just exploded due to an early and particularly robust spring. His eyes were unimaginably irritated and sore, and it actually reached the point where I needed to keep him home to stop him from rubbing his eyes to prevent further damage,  and administer eye drops every hour.

 

He missed a lot of school but during  his time at home he

taught himself how to make stop motion videos and launched his own you-tube channel,

built a homemade loom to increase the efficiency of his latest knitting project,

and memorized how to solve the rubic’s cube as well as a 5 by 5 cube.

 

I watched all of this with awe, all the time thinking that it was just beautiful,

all of this creativity that was drawn out by these big stretches of time alone.

From one thing on to the next, without feeling any regret at moving on or having done enough,

just gently following a pull in a new direction.

 

This is pure play and  joyful curiosity.

 

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oh, those lilacs….

Feasting on one’s own life.

 

just because.

 

I wrote this post before the tragic events this week up north. Sending big love and strength to all those affected and facing such tremendous loss and adversity. Events such as this truly require us all to come together as one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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On what it is to be Quiet, Quiet, and What’s Next

What it is to be Quiet

We have largely been living in an extrovert’s world, Susan Cain explains in her popular book ‘Quiet.’

I have recently begun reading ‘Quiet’, and I am intrigued. So much has already been said on the topic of introverts and extroverts, but it is still enlightening to think about where you fit on that wide spectrum.

Cain’s words resonate.

I remember my teachers saying,

‘Karen is shy and quiet. She needs to participate more,

                            come out of her shell.

I grew up thinking that being shy was very much a negative trait. It was also self-fulfilling. Since I had been firmly labeled as ‘shy’ and sensitive from the very start, it seemed way too awkward to just suddenly, out of the blue, start actively participating.

My thoughts were far from empty though, rather,  I was subject to diverse streams of thoughts constantly.

But where and how to even begin expressing all that was in my head? It was easier to stay in my shell,

safe.

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In writing, at least, I could begin to pin my thoughts down and create meaning. Which, I read, is another trait of introverts,

‘Introverts focus on the meaning they make of the events swirling around them; extroverts plunge into the events themselves.

Us introverts often want to ponder and pull at events and ideas and symbols, mull them over, twist it all up into a story, a lesson – find the plot, the outcome, the message, the

what next.

And so, as a child, I required much unstructured time to think and read (how I have always loved to read).

This was how I replenished.

And even though I have grown out of my shyness, because life inevitably forces us out of the wings and onto the stage and being an introvert need have nothing to do with one’s ability to socialize,

for the most part, ALONE is still how I replenish.

In communion with my thoughts, my ideas, my myriad collection of pens and lovely journals, my piles of books, my countless cups of tea,

Bliss.

And after a time and like magic,

I will re-emerge with                       renewed perspective and a full heart.

For, I actually love people,

and savour real connections. Having heartfelt conversations and nurturing the deep relationships in my life are of the utmost importance to me.

I can also mingle, dance, lead or attend a workshop, give a talk, make jokes at a dinner party (and enjoy and be stimulated every minute of it), travel to new places and feel at home on the most crowded of streets…. I love all that stuff~

but then,

I am tired, and need               my quiet time              to process it all.

I am only really understanding now, in my forties, how crucial it is that I

just                  make                   space.

I hesitate, though, to admit to my readers that I am an introvert. It still feels like admitting to a weakness or claiming a trait that will somehow hold me back in life.

Most of us, though, have little parts of our personalities that we wish were different. Maybe we believe we are ‘too emotional’ or just ‘over the top’. Maybe we laugh too much or are too loud or too serious. Maybe we think we are seen as flighty and dreamy or too strict. Or maybe there are even ways that we have been lead to think about ourselves that are not really us at all.

I tell my kids all the time….’You are exactly how I would choose you to be. I would not change a thing…. Because you are you.’

There is such huge empowerment in simply accepting the beautiful essence and expansiveness of who we are. Personality is deeply complicated, and the ways that my introversion is expressed may not at all be the way another’s presents itself. There is such value in examining what feels comfortable for us, what we need to feel balanced, and owning that truly and without apologies.

That is when our real work in this world, I believe, can truly begin.

And that is the whole point.

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My favourite quiet place.

What’s Next

Friends, this is my 49th post. When I began blogging I had no idea what would come of this. I knew, though, that I needed to begin paying real attention to my dreams and the areas that have always pulled at me. Not only was this important in order for me to be  sane and happy,  I also needed to show myself and my kids  that I was capable of taking ownership for making things happen in my own life. That is what I want to model to them.

This is not a job. Some people have figured out how to make a career out of blogging but I, as of yet, have not. However, it is still part of a path that feels very right to me. That I do know. It is not ‘what I do’ but it is certainly one of the things that I do and I have stopped believing that there is some grand and final destination where I will ultimate find ‘my work’. It is all my work. And not only does this writing gift me the precious opportunity to keep developing as a writer,

but I get to write for a real and brilliantly thoughtful, wise and compassionate audience (yes, that’s all of you), experience priceless feedback, and find my own meaning in the everyday.

I also believe with all of my heart that this is an important time in history.

Now, more than ever, we must be brave enough to speak the truths of our own hearts. We must find ways to open up, connect, create peace.

So whatever this is, and however it continues to unfold, I hope that, above all, it encourages you to live with authenticity and heart and live your real story too.

My posting schedule is presently shifting, but expect one more post before Christmas (#50!), and then my blog (perhaps a little re-imagined and renewed) will begin again in January heralding the next 50 posts…..

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On what it is to be brave, how I almost burned the house down, and an invitation

On what it is to be brave,

There have been times in my life when people have told me that I was brave, that I  was strong….when I divorced, when my mom died, when I had my heart surgery.

I didn’t feel particularly strong or brave in any of these instances.

In fact, people’s encouraging words in part frustrated me because it felt like I had no other alternatives. I was simply putting one foot in front of the other and moving through my days, my life, doing my best to work with the hand I had been dealt.

What courage, I thought, is there in that,

not realizing that this ordinary brand of courage, this gentle strength, is momentous in its own quiet but important way.

And ironically, I now hear myself saying and thinking these same words to friends who are struggling with or facing their own life-altering events,

‘You are strong, you are brave.’

And I mean these words. And yet these friends deflect my sentiments in the same way that I once did.

I now realize, though, that it in fact takes tremendous courage to simply move through a life. And when it is done with honesty and open-heartedness, I am in awe.

In such lovely and ordinary ways, we are brave.

For example,

My friend who is terrified of flying still gets on that plane because she cannot deny her yearning to explore and travel the world,

and she who is grieving her spouse or parent does so with authenticity, expressing her tears, her anger, her laughter, despite the fact that our culture does not like to talk about grief.

This woman says what needs to be said in that meeting, what no one else will say, even though her heart feels like it will pound right out of her chest when she begins to speak

or another friend doesn’t speak up, because sometimes it is better to be kind than right.

Another woman says no to joining the committee, despite her overwhelming feelings of guilt and obligation, because she knows it is just too much

and she who is overwhelmed asks for help.

My friend leaves her marriage because it is the best thing, the only thing, for herself and for her kids

while another stays in her marriage for the same reasons.

And this one follows a path that few understand or support, yet with deep determination he keeps doing his art and persists in his vision, his passion,

whilst another takes a job because it will pay the bills and that is the bigger priority.

A  mother I know watches her child walk right into a difficult situation even though it breaks her heart but she knows her child needs to navigate this particular storm on his own,

and this friend uproots and moves away because she knows deep inside that it is the right next step for her, even though it means leaving so much.

Another has the courage and confidence to shine when the moment asks for it, but  also knows when it is time to stand in the background in a supporting role.

This woman shows real and uninhibited exuberance and delight in her daily encounters despite this world that presently seems to favour cynicism and guardedness,

and he who has worked for so long in pursuit of his goal finally reaches the finish line and accepts his rewards with grace, while another friend understands when the time has come to walk away.

My friend who has cancer shares with us all her reasons to smile and describes the cherished places where she finds gratitude and hope, just as she expresses her feelings of helplessness and gripping fear,

and another brave soul silently processes the news of her illness because that is her way.

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We               are            brave.

How I almost burned the house down

My dear life-long friend and I were recently able to get away on a quick and much long-anticipated weekend getaway. I was finally able to see the vacation home that Charlotte and her husband have built along with 3 other couples, a lovely getaway in the mountains.

After arriving Friday evening we awoke Saturday morning eagerly anticipating our day of cafe breaks, walks, and early Christmas shopping. While Charlotte was showering, I went downstairs to put the kettle on for my tea. Mindlessly, as this is one of the most routine behaviours of my daily existence, I filled up the kettle with water and put it on the gas stove. I then grabbed my phone and dialed Dan and the kids to have a quick chat, and see how their night had been.

As I was chatting with Olivia, I began to smell a combination of smoke and burning plastic. I looked over at the stove-top, and noticed that the entire bottom of the ELECTRIC KETTLE, exposed wire and all, was on fire.

Yes, readers , I put an electric kettle on a gas range and almost burned the house down, and not even my house, but my friend’s house that she shares with 3 other families.

As I was throwing bowls of water on top of the stove, I was half-panicking, half-imagining how I would tell everyone what I had done. And as the smoke alarm was going off, I was weakly calling  Charlotte’s name, not really wanting her to come down before I had attempted to peel off the hard pieces of melted kettle off the burners.

The most embarrassing part of this whole story, though, is that neither Charlotte nor Dan were entirely surprised by what I did,

but            they both still love me.

So, if you see me randomly bursting into laughter in the grocery store aisle or while waiting to pick up my kids,

I am probably just remembering what I did.

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Despite the kettle mishap, we did each manage to find beautiful new boots to buy.

An invitation

I have a few projects on the go right now, and often wonder at when and how they should intersect. They inevitably do intertwine, though, and so it feels right to extend an invitation to my readers to my PeaceCard evening slated for an evening in late November.

For at least the last ten years, I have imagined such mini-retreats~ times set aside for honest connection, meaning, and simple and artful play. I know so many of us crave this, and I also know it lacks in many of our lives.

Women have always gathered. My mother and her friends used to gather so often, whether to quilt and craft, or talk and plan. This is women’s play and it is essential to so many of us, to our well-being. To find out what I have dreamed up for this first evening of its kind, please message me for the details.

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On this is all I will say about politics, connection, and last week’s hero

This is all I will say about politics (for now)

I am going to tell you a little secret about me. I am not much of a joiner.

It’s actually hard for me to admit this because it feels somewhat like claiming a lack of commitment which isn’t at all true. I can be fiercely committed and loyal. 

I have always felt, though, that there can sometimes be something slightly dangerous about identifying too much with a particular perspective or stance. If we become too patriotic, too zealous, too enmeshed with a group,

we sometimes end up leaving out other people, other views, other valid ways of being in this world. It can all get       a little too ‘us’ and ‘them’, though often             

that is the place where we feel the safest.

It happens to all of us, and certainly me too. I speak to this but I have been guilty of sitting up on my high horse     a thousand or more times.

Since the beginning of time, though, that is exactly the point where it falls to pieces. We make it all black and white, see things at face value and forget to look harder in the depths for the clarity and understanding beneath. Feelings are hurt, resentments breed,   wars start.

We forget that we ALL have our burdens to bear and for the most part, we all want the same things.

Love.     Connection.     Peace.

I speak to this perhaps because talk of the upcoming election is everywhere. I will not speak up for a specific party here, or speak down to another one. I do, think, however, that the challenge is to really make this about seeking to understand the issues,

identifying the leaders that truly speak to our hearts and minds at this time, and sifting through the rhetoric and the drama and the posturing until we find the place where we are simply most aligned.              Then vote.

Undoubtedly and thankfully, we will forevermore need to gather and form groups and associations and parties and work for positive change and, to be honest,

there is little that moves me more than people working together to create beautiful initiatives in this world, inspired events, important societal or environmental change.

My hope, however,  is that when we form our partnerships and alliances we can always remember that

It’s not about ‘us’ and ‘them’.

It’s always about ALL of us. 

Connection

Recently, I saw a video documenting people who offered up a minute of eye contact to passers by on busy streets. I have seen other versions of this project executed in different ways, but it always ends up being deeply moving to watch people just seeing each other.

It strikes me that if I was, for an entire minute,  to stare into the eyes of someone who I felt I didn’t understand or that I was at odds with,

something  in both of us would inevitably shift.

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Even just imagining it feels a little transformative.

Last week’s hero

Last week, the hero of our story was George.

He had decided that he would agree to have his head shaved for the Terry Fox Run event hosted by his school and he stayed resolute in that decision.

It was a beautiful and ambitious event for a school that is known for celebrating Terry Fox’s legacy. Thousands of kids, teachers and parents came from all over our city to walk together, cheer on the memory of Terry (even his dad was in attendance) and raise money for cancer research.

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When it was time,

George marched up onto the stage with the other brave volunteers and quietly let the stylist shave his hair all the while wearing a sticker announcing that ‘he was running today for Grandma Carol‘.

My beautiful boy who has always had a gorgeous head full of blond hair that I have loved to smell, kiss, ruffle~

afterwards walked back to where we were sitting (a little shakily),

          completely bald.

All at once my heart both broke and grew.

I have long since given up on the idea of finding a one and only hero who always acts in a way that is brave and true and good. Few, if any of us, are capable of that.

But we do get little opportunities, scattered throughout our every days, to have heroic moments.

Yay George, for accepting and rising up to yours.

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