Monday, July 16, 2018

Sit in this Moment of Disappearing Time

Sit in this Moment of Disappearing Time

We can sit on the mountain top, we can hide in the forest. We can splash in the waters, we can dance with the breeze.

We can be on a stage, we can sit in a corner, we can be unknown to others or friendly only with ourselves.

We can write volumes of best sellers, paint pictures in the dark.

We can be buried in sadness, or shine on magazine covers.              

We can do many different things, while we are strangers to each other, drop pennies in a box, or fly on the wings of a dove.

Each morning rises to meet our demands, but what we do with it, no one else commands. (Tweet This)

We each get to do what each of us does. And that's why we get to leave behind pieces of us.

It is up to us.

And then we just Follow The Sun for one more time.

How do we sit in this moment of disappearing time? (Tweet This)

As Xavier Rudd asks in these beautiful lyrics, how do you "cherish this moment, cherish this breath"?

Tuesday, July 10, 2018

We're All Missing Something

We're All Missing Something

When I picked up these numbers at a garage sale many years ago, little did I know how much conversation it would trigger.

Folks coming into my office have had such interesting responses:
  • where did you get them? At a garage sale, I think they were house numbers when house numbers were cut in wood.
  • hey! the 3's missing. Yes, that's exactly the point
  • I love the colour! It was very popular in the 50s and 60s. I had a bath tub in this colour in the first house I bought.
  • a little one who was proud that she could add up all the numbers. Bravo, now that's thinking!
  • why do you have it there? Because it's a daily reminder to me.

What do these numbers mean to you?

I see their awkward balancing act and each time it reminds me of a missing piece, the gap in all of us. The way we do our best to stand up straight.

In the stories we tell ourselves based on our memory of things past, in how we halt our own growth, in how we put limits on our courage, in our patterns of fear, in why our dreams seem just outside our reach.

Sometimes that missing 3 feels as large as an ocean, a huge leap, that we learn to ignore. Until one day when we just don't see it anymore.

Why bother? we think to ourselves. This is just the way I am. (Tweet This)

We can learn to ignore most gaps, until the pain gets too much. Until the day arrives when we are brave enough to question, what are we missing? And then that 3 can be the most magnificent thing of your life. The day that you realize that YOU can fill in the gap.

I had a colleague who remarked on these numbers each time he entered my space. He laughed about the missing 3, he moved the numbers around when he was feeling playful. He sat silently and nodded as he stared at the 1-2-4-5. And on his last day with us, he told me this...

I understand, he said. Thanks for the reminder that we're all missing something. 

We are all missing something. What are you prepared to do about it? (Tweet This)

Wednesday, July 4, 2018

Search in the Mirror

...Sometimes the world seems against you
The journey may leave a scar
But scars can heal and reveal just
Where you are.
(from I am Moana) 

Search in the Mirror

We search in the mirror each day. We look for physical changes as time goes on. How often do we pause and reflect on the changes within?

The end of a school year. A farewell of sorts to those moving on, sometimes with sadness, at times with reverence for what they've taught us. Or at least what they were supposed to teach us.

Teams ending, teams starting up. New jobs. Retirement. Travels. Unemployment. Loneliness. Unknowing.

How does each person effect the other? Testing our integrity, our compassion, our growth. What are we willing to give up for recognition, moving up the ladder, security, politeness? Oh, how we resent these lessons. 

How quickly do we recognize what these valuable (although possibly dominating/aggravating/hurtful/negative) people bring to our lives? We are annoyed that we constantly have to accommodate, we don't always have the strength to step out with grace...quietly.

Yes, if we are fortunate we meet people who see the world as we do, who stand in the same beliefs. And that is always a relief, kindred souls tested on the same battlefield. We can turn to each other to talk it out over a coffee and a walk.

But they are rare, as time goes on. We cover up, we mask. We do it well. How many people do you know that you would bare your tender heart to?

Some day do we say, ahh! I fell for it again! I let that kind of personality get under my skin...again.

Or, I admire her resilience. His courage in tackling new things is inspiring.

Which way do we tend to lean?

As Life sends us on our next journey...let us ask the question most important for our tomorrow - What is this experience teaching me about myself? 

The answers are within.

The call isn’t out there at all, it’s inside me. Moana 

Tuesday, June 19, 2018

Walking the Habit

You see the same people week after week. And you hear their stories or you make them up. (Tweet This)

You see the handsome man with an older dog. You see them each winter’s morning. He acknowledging you with a tip of his head, you recognizing them at a distance. Whose ritual was it, you wonder. Man or dog. It was a long way around the lake. And then one day you see him alone and the next time too. And you want to say, sorry about your dog, you must miss him. But you wonder if that is too forward. Because what story has he made up about you when he passes? That you walk too fast and are always alone? Must have no friends?

You see people in funny combinations, are they out on a first date? You’ve done the same thing to see if this man can keep up with you and hold your attention for 6 kilometres. You see one of them turn to the other, but the other’s eyes never stray from the walking path or looking for an escape. Did their online profiles identify who they really are or was it all fabrication? Will you ever see them together again?

Walking the Habit
She is usually wearing pink, her hair is  substantial, blonde messy. You wonder if she has  just stepped out of bed and wound that big floral   scarf around her neck as an afterthought. You never really notice the man with her. He is secondary. All year long she wears pink. What does her closet look like?

There’s a big man, he walks like someone who has lost a great deal of weight recently. Like his knees hurt with every step but still you see him with one new walking companion after another each week and he doesn’t give up. When Spring finally arrived he had removed his long inappropriate coat and my, he had lost so much weight. He was almost slim, although he still walked with uncomfortable knees. Does it hurt badly? you think as you cross each other.

You see the children grow, they start off unstable on their new bikes, they fall behind their older siblings. And then one day, they make it up the entire hill without stopping or whining. They begin to recognize you too, and they wave their little hands when you go by. And you think to yourself, please put your hands back on your handlebars I don’t want to see you fall.

You think about the elderly man you used to see walking slowly and saying his prayers. He used to put his hands together and bow and quietly say Namaste, but you haven’t seen him in so long.

The fast runners go by, you cannot catch their conversations. What a shame. Some call “hello” and “good evening” when it is only 8am, just to make you laugh. Some are constantly recovering from another injury. They have been known to laugh and whine too.

The cycling teams fly by. They look pretty fit and have great thighs when you see them at a certain angle. And you think, ah 40 years ago I would have fallen for those legs. I know they are practising for some event, but they definitely miss out on overhearing the passing conversations or notice the gal dressed in pink.

All this happens before 10am on a Sunday morning. It is a good way to start the day. Then you continue your habit and go have a cheap cup of coffee at McDonalds.

The stories you hear when you walk. (Tweet This)

Do only writers notice the stories that walk by? (Tweet This) 

Habit = Glenmore Reservoir, South West Calgary

Tuesday, June 12, 2018

Box of Favourite Toys

It was a box, just a box. It held nothing that meant anything to me but were the treasures held for decades by someone who used to be close to me. How did I get possession of this box, you ask?

Box of Favourite Toys
A life time ago, I was young and in love. Those feelings I eventually gave away too. But the owner of this box kept adding to it with the loss of each female relative. And then decades passed, these “jewels” were eventually left to me, and ended up with assorted other bits of history that had no story. Glassy, audacious, sparkly, set in garish ornate, old-fashioned brooches and hat-pins. They sat in the equally absurd bronze stained wooden box at the back of my closet, ignored.

The more I’ve read however of cleaning out our loved one’s closets made me consider my own mortality. How could I leave all this stuff for my own children to sift through? How could I leave them with all my junk, incomplete projects, scribbles in notebooks, scraps of fabric and this box of jewelry. How would they know what was important to me and not just filling up my spaces, preventing me from discovering myself. (Tweet This)

You might think, ohmygoodness, but she’s old, surely she should know who she is by now? But guess what, you are ALWAYS learning and growing. I am not the person I was last year, or last week. I have learned and lost and shared and grown some more. And in that passage of time, I’ve discovered that “things” have lesser meaning, because I will leave this world alone without any of my favourite toys. And those who know me best will get to choose which leftover piece of my heart has any value to them. (Tweet This)

And that is why, I have worn the (less!) ugly brooches on my jean jacket, or taken some apart to hang on a chain, have used another to decorate a gift, and given many away. The monetary value might be a little or a lot, I do not know. 
But I like to think that each trinket will arrive on the doorstop of someone who will appreciate its uniqueness. And the story they tell of how it reached them is really none of my business.

Because we all leave this world alone without any of our favourite toys. (Tweet This)