Category: Listen

Poppy Red Sofa

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A velvety poppy red sofa (a love seat to be exact) in a brightly lit open space living room. I squeeze myself in between Grandma and Grandpa. Grandpa is on my right and Grandma on my left. She is closest to the end table dressed with odds and ends, and close enough for her to darn a rip, read the news, coupon clip or sip a small glass of water. I envision myself holding Grandpa’s hand. He is ill and I want to remember his touch. His large weathered soft hand in mine. A hand that built his home in Europe and cottage in Canada. A hand that tended to the soil, untangled necklaces, stitched small pouches and washed dishes. Nestled on the couch together we say very little and feel very much. We know this moment is precious and conversation may spoil the felt exchange. The quiet closeness comforts us. I am at peace here in this memory. I am at peace. I am loved.

My eyes remained closed while folded into my comforter on the third day. My will tries hard to push the symptoms away, but it quickly loses the fight. The second dose has done me in. Exhaustion and nausea invite sadness, dressed up as the satisfaction of giving yourself permission to feel. Depression dances in circles taunting me to a waltz or tango but I am only mesmerized by the music. I fade in and out of mindfulness as the music pulls me in. I conjure up just enough mental fortitude to recall a happy place: 

A velvety poppy red sofa (a love seat to be exact) in a brightly lit open space living room. I’m squeezed in between Grandma and Grandpa. 

The tune once played no longer pulls me in. I hear no invitation to tango or waltz. I envision a soft weathered hand in mine and whisper to myself, “The fourth day will be better.” 

Screaming Is An Option

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Screaming feels like an option. 

I imagine myself running into my backyard, collapsing to my knees and with fists raised in complaint, screaming.

Tears would follow, dripping with the same guttural utterance of my screams. I would tuck my face in my hands and slump forward. My cry to feel alive or at least to revive the life I once had, would have me lower my forehead to the cold damp Earth. Bracing myself with my forearms I would extend my legs and lay prostrate as if to say, “God!” With one unspoken word muttered in my humble posture, I would plead for communion without fear – for the comfort of a family meal indoors, for celebrations with balloons, cake and gifts, and for peace in spite of this mysterious danger lurking in gatherings. 

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Pause the Panic-Loop

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I spotted him. A streak of bright red tucked behind branches. A male cardinal. He was the culprit that interrupted my stream of thoughts. Mind you, it was a necessary interruption. I was caught in an endless loop of worry, anger and panic. You would think that lounging in a kiddie (adult) pool in your backyard in 32 degrees Celsius weather while on holiday would be a relaxing activity. If I were to post a photo, boy would it appear desirable (especially since small pools are sold out and beaches are closed right now.) While my body was submerged in cool water on a hot day, my mind was racing. This pandemic has a way of producing waves of rest and panic, with no in-between. 

I was three days in on a ‘rest phase’ and feeling a bit less overwhelmed with everything when the phone rang. I had just returned from the drug store where, for the first time in fourteen weeks, I took some time to browse. For me, essential shopping meant no time for browsing. It was a matter of quick decisions, sticking to a list and getting the heck out of there. But during this outing I was happy to have purchased a pair of cute floral earrings. This small purchase combined with feeling okay to take some time to browse put me in a ‘slightly normal’ mood. A mood that would only last a few more minutes. 

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Timely Messages

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After five years of writing a blog and filling countless journals, I’ve discovered I am most passionate about unlocking timely messages that encourage, challenge and change my perspective. I’m talking about moments of clarity and self-discovery. This is what I love writing about!

When I happen upon a timely message like spotting light poking through a pinhole, I am fully captivated. I cannot look away because behind that perforated shield is the most sought after treasure. A cache that surpasses wealth and status – hidden, and revealed to the patient, humble and hungry. It’s a treasure of knowledge, making me more conscious of my life choices, beliefs and the recovery or retrieval of my truest self. A refinement of sorts.

When that tiny string of light catches my attention I know that something wonderful is on its way and I must create space for its entry. I simply allow the tiny string of light to increase my curiosity to the point where everything else is dimmed. As my curiosity increases, the light also increases in brightness. The intrigue and comfort of the glow make me vulnerable and open to what will be revealed. At this invitation, I observe, wait and listen…. 

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Self-Care: More Than A Hobby

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Self-care: I’ve heard it often enough to understand that we live in a culture where we keep too busy. Many times ‘we’ don’t even make it on our very own to-do list. Serving the demands of our agendas is more important than slowing down to allow time for introspection. It is much easier to disregard self-care since it doesn’t yield the same reward as a clean kitchen, a mowed lawn, an empty inbox or a home-cooked meal. Self-care is not just putting your name on the to-do list – it’s slowing down enough to listen to what you truly need. It means being vulnerable and not just the one in charge of checking-off a list.  

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Certainty

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Worry, like a string of balloons tethered to your hands carries you far from reality. 

Detached from the earth below, you spend endless hours constructing scenarios that address every “What if?”

You devise multiple plans – solidifying certainty and safety at all costs.

Every situation controlled. Every outcome calculated. Every question answered.

Nothing is unpredictable and everything works in your favour.

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She is Past

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The seal broke releasing the past. 

Its sentence was up and like an uninvited haunting it was making its arrival known. 

Wanting to hide in fear it chased me down. 

Like a child I hid under my blanket pretending that if I couldn’t see her, she couldn’t see me. 

My protective force was faulty. 

I peeled back my cover, slowly exposing my face. 

There on my bed sat Past. 

She was innocent, honest, weathered and bruised, having a lifetime of memories. 

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…but a moment

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My backyard, small but perfect – a place to lounge mid-afternoon during the summer months. Two new turquoise-blue muskoka chairs make backyard lounging perfect. Everyday I would sit with my bare feet touching the grass or crosslegged on the chair studying, reflecting and writing. My studies were often interrupted by my curious little dog playfully pouncing on grasshoppers, a squirrel running along the fence line or flying insects. Butterflies were plenty. They were unlike the buzz or crawl of the other insects. Their descent into my backyard was like royalty, gracefully fluttering to the sound of trumpets and strings. I could not help but stop what I was doing to watch them – moving from blades of grass to flowers until their final ascent up and beyond my yard. I was mesmerized by their beauty and elegance. 

Having lost my grandmother at the beginning of July, I was contemplating the idea that butterflies are a sign from God. Continue reading →

Beneath Waters

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I buried her beneath waters.

A buoyant sail once purposed for adventure, shipwrecked.

Drowned by currents of ‘acceptable norms’ 

She could no longer stay afloat.

She sank. Her beauty. Her purpose. Her destiny. Gone.

She was ‘put in her place’ on the ocean floor.

A vessel repurposed for others. 

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Search For Connection

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I was on a search for connection. I hadn’t had time to grieve the loss of my grandma or soul-search until vacation. Time away is more than indulgence in delicious foods and drinks – it’s an intentional practice of stillness, purging the mind of everything that ‘needs to be done.’ I guess you could say it’s an ‘emptying’ of one thing and a ‘re-filling’ of another. Maybe even a re-calibration. 

My mind is always busy. I am constantly taking stock of every social exchange, looking for ways to be productive and feeling overwhelmed when I don’t have time to get ‘life’ in order. It took a few days of a beach vacation to settle my busy mind. 

It was one late-afternoon in the middle of my vacation, right before the magical hours of sunset. Immersed in warm, salty ocean water, my body relaxed and my mind set at ease, I noticed a child-like hunt for treasure. Wading in the water a short distance away vacationers reached below the surface to the bed of the ocean. Each plunge un-earthed rocks and shells from beneath their toes. Sifting through their findings by holding each rock and shell up to their eyes for approval, the treasure-hunters let go of the less precious ones and kept the best ones close. For those who seemed as if they could afford expensive things these natural treasures appeared to hold great value. Even more than the rocks and shells themselves, it was the child-like hunt for treasure that appeared valuable to them. Maybe only kept for a day by their beach chair, or taken home and placed in a decorative dish, these rocks and shells would become a reminder of sun-kissed skin, salty ocean water, letting-go of less-precious ‘stuff’ and discovering nature’s treasures.

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