Choices - how to spend the rest of your life?

It does not matter that we are no longer 21, most of us did not even know each other at that stage of our lives. But the shared stories give life to our past and I can understand (albeit just a little) of what choices you made that brought you to this person that you are today. It is only in the sharing that I can get a glimpse of the joy and pain that molded you, and the “why” of our meeting at this point in time. We give and we take and if we are wise, we incorporate what we have taken, to pass on to someone else who will need it someday. Like a wave, we come to land and then step back to reflect.

Many, many (many) years ago I was asked to be Class Valedictorian. My teacher, John A. (Class of ’71) said that I was one of the only students who could describe succinctly, yet poetically what needed to be said. What he did not assess was my ability to stand in front of a crowd and speak. I refused, it is a decision that pops up in my thinking every now and then. What would have happened if I had agreed? As time went on, I realized that that one day was just that, one day, a few hours, a few words. I would have survived, regardless of my shaking knees.

Today, I have a friend who is breaking new ground from her old stories. She has abandoned the parts of herself that no longer serve her well, to become someone more courageous. She is a rolling stone. She is a gypsy. And however long or short this period might be, she has taken the challenge of standing at the podium and is giving the best speech of her life.

Congratulations my friend. I have learned a lot from you.

What choices do you need to make to celebrate the rest of your life?

Good Morning in the Parkade

They walked with the familiarity of non-strangers
leaning in to each other with the rhythm
of their words.

Their laughter comes in waves as we approach
my "hello" a minor interruption in the fluid movement
of their daily dance.

Footsteps behind me interspersed with
the give and take of their parting.

Echoes as their sound disappear.

They leave me in a silent smile.

Guided to Cross

My friend M. and I met the day her family moved into our neighbourhood. Over the following 22 years, we have often reminisced about our meeting. Me, mom to 2 small children, shy and not commonly taken to walking over to a stranger with an out-stretched hand. M, with 2 smaller children, an army brat quite used to packing up and going but still surprised at the behaviour of a stranger, me! From that day onwards, I have truly believed that I was guided to make a connection that has proven to be invaluable over the life of our friendship. We walk, we talk, we eat, we wine, and we grow.

We don’t see each other often, sometimes it seems like months go by without contact and then it is like a simultaneous drawing together (you know, the “hey! I been thinking of you, so glad you called” conversations we have with our favourite people). Some friendships were meant to be, and I give thanks for having the awareness that day so long ago when I crossed the street because... I HAD to, I didn’t know why but I knew that it had to happen. That day, the earth shifted to bring me a friend.

M. brings many things to my life; laughter, deep thought, someone who has seen me at my best and certainly at my worst, who supports, and who speaks the truth.

I share below, one of her gifts to the world. This urban oasis can only be created by a human being with a good soul.

Did you or didn’t you, when intuition told you to step into the unknown? (Click to Tweet)

3 - Woman Intersection

 

3-Woman Intersection #Spokane

at a given moment yesterday
at a 4-way stop
we met.

each on the walk of our day
each on a journey.

strangers but women
been be become
each carrying the parcels of our lives
aware of our differences
knowing our similarities.

we nod smile wink
and carry on
until we meet again

and again
and again.


We meet again, as strangers. (Click to Tweet)

Same person, different face. How do we react?  (Click to Tweet)

Corridor of Free Expression

Someone mentioned to me that she had written on the wall above the photocopier. Nothing too profound, just the code for copies so she didn't have to repeat it many times through the day. The building is coming down you see, as are many others along 17 Ave, making space for the LRT extension.

This got me thinking of all the expressions we could scribble in our spaces, to make it truly our own. Would the gentle draw flowers and write prose and the more angry be prone to armoured tanks? Will we draw smiling faces, write love stories, tape up photos of memories shared?

Perhaps we could start a wave of creativity along the construction route, where for a brief period we could feel the courage to be ourselves. Will our words be more real when we know that they have a terminal date?

As I drive and see the empty lots, see buildings staring back with vacant eyes, see the large orange barrels, I do my best to follow the zig-zag of the freshly painted solid lines. How quickly I have forgotten what stood on that corner, how quickly we have become used to the relocation of a favourite coffee-drinking spot. We search out parking each morning, put on identifying tags; no one wants to end their day with a missing vehicle. Losing our personal space is quite enough for now.

But wherever we go, we take ourselves and the choice is ours - will we pack up our grudges along with our post-it notes and stapler or only bring our ha-ha jokes from our files?