Voices from the Past...SHUT UP!

We are formed in great part by the messages we receive growing up from the people we regard as all-knowing, wise even.  Elders we admire or admired.  I had a great uncle that through my adolescent eyes was bigger than life and everything I ever knew about him seemed "right".  He was not only a big personality, but he was a very large man physically.  He was easily 6' 5" and he  was never an ounce under 300 lbs as long as he was alive. He had big opinions too - conservative ones.

He was my maternal grandmother's brother.  He married a woman that was a good match for him in every way.  She was even tall, but never an ounce overweight. Never!  She was a nurse and he worked hard in some sort of steel mill I recall.  They never had children which for the time was unusual.  One side effect of the no children thing was that they never had to spend their hard earned money on the costly little beasts that they are so their money just accumulated and compounded and by the time they reached retirement they were very very set.

They owned a big old Victorian house that was divided up into 3 apartments and they lived in the largest, poshest main floor of the home, collected rent from the other 2 units and made money that way too.  By the time they reached retirement age, they owned a cottage in Muskoka and a winter place in Florida AND a very cool Airstream travel trailer that they used when they felt the urge.  When my parents first married and I came along, we actually lived in one of the rental units  in the small wing of the house on the ground floor - a one bedroom apartment with a small kitchen, living room and one bathroom.  The wing had it's own porch which I spent hours playing make-believe on and under - my own little wing in a way. the house was on a very large lot, easily 3-4 acres and so the sprawling yard was also a boon to my curious toddler wanderings.

There was a sandbox near a gully and a ravine with woods and a back field that was good for rabbit and pheasant siting...or shooting apparently.  It went on but I never witnessed any of that.  I did dine on pheasant at an early age though. We moved when I was 3 but I will always remember those early years and the opinions I formed of our "landlords".  They kept the house and property in impeccable condition and there were rules regarding not making messes or pinching the peonies or being too noisy on Sunday afternoons when my uncle might be enjoying an afternoon catnap.

By three, I had pretty much figured that "perfectionism" was the goal, untidy yards were bad and there was no other real path in life but to save and accumulate money and possessions.  When I took off to go backpacking in Europe at 19, my great uncle came to the backyard BBQ my parents threw for me to bid me farewell and he handed me some money.  I can't remember how much but likely it was a fifty dollar bill (always more than anyone else would have given me) and he looked me square in the eye and said, "Just remember, a rolling stone gathers no moss."  I recall taking offense to his remark and the rebel in me sloughed it off as something old people say to let you know they kind of disapprove of your choices.  It sure did not stop me from getting on that plane the next day and proceeding to have one of the greatest adventures of my life.  What did he know about rolling stones?  He had never been outside of North America. Pfffttt!

That was when I decided maybe I was not going to follow the expected path or at least not the gospel according to Uncle Ken.  He is likely rolling around in his grave right about now wishing he could try and stop me from heading off on my next great adventure.  I can almost feel his grasp, his huge over-sized hand shaking mine, turning my palm upward, examining it closely and shaking his head in disapproval, unable to find even a trace of moss.

Sorry Uncle.  Not everyone is fond of sitting in one dank damp dark place long enough for fuzzy green shit to grow all over them.

I prefer breathing...and LIVING!

Freedom 55....Day ONE

You have all heard the hype.  It has been going on for years now, although since 2008 less so.  How many people do you know that can really afford to retire at 55?  Hmmm, that's what I thought - not many.  The ones that do seem to manage it, are generally itching to get back at some sort of productive activity before long either because they are bored, or they can't quite live on the money they saved and/or have coming in - at least not the way they are used to living. 

I certainly cannot afford it.  But it did get me to thinking.  All the things that we are putting off until retirement are usually things we will likely enjoy doing more at 55 than we will at 65 or 70.  We are still in fairly good health if we are lucky, we still have energy and many of us do have a bit of cash in the bank by then.  What if, instead of waiting to do some of these things 10 years down the track, we pause for a year and do a bunch of them NOW?

You can see where this is heading, can't you?  Yup, that's my new plan.  I turned 55 in December and since then I have watched one man die at 52 and another come real close in his early 60's and who knows when my number will be up?  What if I never make it to 65?  My bucket list is still pretty full.  Time to start spilling a bit of it.  So here goes, my dear readers - 2013 is going to be my "adult gap year".  I am going to chronicle the adventure here in my blog - all the ups and downs and the fears and joys and with any luck, at the end of 2013, my bucket will have far fewer   dream droplets to spill and I will have fed my soul some, learned some new shit and filed the word regret somewhere in the deep recesses of my brain...just in case my number does come up sooner rather than later.

I called this Day One because although I left my soul-sucking job last Friday, Monday seems like the appropriate day to really begin.  That was the first step.  The job had to go.  It was a mistake from the get-go and all I got out of it was an insulting pay cheque every 2 weeks and 15 lbs of anxiety weight.  Fifteen lbs that I had worked very hard to get rid of 3 years ago.  So today, the  new regimen began.  I dusted off the treadmill, hauled the weights out of the closet, the big exercise ball and the mat and did a good 90 minute workout followed by an 8 oz glass of Vital Greens.  I have 7 weeks to lose at least 10 of those 15 lbs before I grace the beaches in France and Spain in mid April.  

That is the first stop. Marseilles, Barcelona, Sitges, Mojacar.  A virtual trip down memory lane.  These are places I visited 36 years ago.  I have some very fond memories of them and have always wanted to go back.  I will unveil the second stop soon.  For now, I invite you to join me as I plan and plot and slosh around in my bucket.

Stay tuned.

Don't Ask!

I got a note from a friend the other day that said she had noticed I had not been blogging much lately and had not been on Facebook and she was wondering what was up with me.  She was correct.  Not blogging much. Not on social media much. Laying low. Quiet.

I go through periods like this.  Maybe it is time spent building. Times of introspection. Who knows?  Hibernation maybe.  Fucking winter. It did make me aware of the fact a bit - having someone point it out and all.

I wondered if I was losing my mojo a bit.  Nothing was really crying out for comment.  Then again, I have been somewhat preoccupied of late.  Mostly personal stuff I don't really want to share with the world so don't get too excited - not about to share it, but I do miss writing when I am away from it from time to time.  

There is something that keeps rearing it's head - not necessarily an "ugly" head, but a head nonetheless.  It is something that has left me wondering if I was "less than" since my early twenties in fact.  It goes something like this.  It's Friday afternoon.  You are at work.  One of your colleagues asks the question.   "So, whatcha doin this weekend?"  I cringe every time.  Most times I really don't really have any significant plans worthy of a big mention.  I'm not going to some hot club or some sold out concert or heading to my cottage or jetting off to NYC for the weekend, so any answer that springs to mind seems lame and boring and surely not what the questioner was hoping for or expecting.  

I mean, I could say - well, I am thinking I might catch a movie on ROD or go for a power walk or go to The Village Butcher to get farm fresh eggs or change my sheets or read a bit or cook a little or in finer weather, go for an EXTRA LONG power walk or play tennis outside or hike a local trail that I don't do regularly but somehow these answers seem so - dare I say - boring?  I like all those things but I suspect these are not the activities they want to hear about.

Must even my simple days off feel like a competition?  I actually love it when I don't have a "plan".  That is my favourite kind of weekend.  Nothing scheduled. No particular place to go. No engagements.  It's not that I don't like social events - I do, just not every weekend, or every night. I like time to just be.  I like the feeling of no deadlines. No alarm clocks. No obligations.  I have been this way my whole life really.  Even when I was young and "supposed" to be crazy busy and out all the time, I needed a night off now and again.  I know there are people who are so over-scheduled they can barely find time for themselves.  That would be anathema to me. 

WHAT? No time to daydream? No time to be still? No time to reflect?  I just wish people would stop asking me "What are you doing tonight? What are your plans for the evening or weekend?" That way I would not have to feel like such a loser when I say - "not much".  I just don't need to be scheduled every minute of every day or week.  I never did it to my daughter either.  I let her have plenty of free time to herself and made a point of not over-scheduling her life.  Maybe I was wrong but she seems to be very comfortable on her own and content with her own company so maybe it worked.  She does not complain of being bored.  Come to think of it I am not usually bored either.  

Maybe it just takes less to amuse me.  Or a lot more to amuse everyone else.

My Perfect Day - December 27, 2012

A perfect cup of joe

Lazy pajama morning

Someone else to shovel the snow

Leftover Tortierre for lunch

A bit of shopping

My favorite clothing shop gifting me with a new top

Mid-afternoon latte break

Late afternoon drinks and snacks with friends

Couple of pre-dinner Kir Royales

Fabulous daughter cooking my birthday dinner

My favourite musical selections cranking on the stereo

Good hair day

Clothes still fitting miraculously post-holiday feasting

Personalized Google birthday greeting

Surrounded with love

Happy Birthday to me!

2012 Christmas Message

I want to share a message with all of your this Christmas Eve, 2012 that I read on a blog I follow that I felt that was so well said, I could not have said it better myself....

"May you go deeper. May you reach higher. May you fearlessly seize what is good and loving and share it generously with those around you. May you find within yourself those satisfactions you’ve been taught to seek outside of yourself. May you realize how beloved you are, a child of God and a powerful spiritual entity, busy creating what tomorrow will look like for yourself and the rest of us.

May you enter the stillness long enough to know it’s not empty but full to brimming with all the beauty you’ve forgotten about yourself, with wisdom and truth. May you have a holy moment, a revelation that illuminates your connection with this lovely planet, and the oneness of all the life forms that reside upon her. "...Eric Francis

This resonated with me even more so than usual as I have sadly known two young people who committed suicide this year.  These tragic losses of two young men in their late twenties has had a deep and profound impact on me and I can only imagine the pain it has caused those closest to them. 

My heart goes out to any family facing this first holiday season post crisis.

May we all cherish each and every precious moment.

Merry Christmas to all.  

Time to Shift Gears

Could this be the tipping point?  Please tell me it is! The tragedy in Connecticut this morning just has to be a final wake up call.  How many more innocent lives must end before we get it?  

It is like that "meaning of insanity" quote by Albert Einstein.  The one that goes -"the meaning of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result."  How much longer before handguns are banned?  How much longer before humanity stops putting so much emphasis and importance on the acquisition of material things?  How many more days, weeks and years before everyone realizes we are all connected? How many more hearts have to be broken; families torn apart, nations divided before we rise above it all?

Days such as this leave me so depleted.  It's as though I cannot absorb all the grief as there is such an abundance of it swirling around that it threatens to absorb me.  I sit here grateful that just yesterday I was able to embrace and hug my daughter before she left town to go back to university to write a couple more exams.  The lingering energy of that moment will have to sustain me today as I weep for the victims and their families and friends of this senseless crime this morning.

From what I have been reading and learning, we, the human race will have an opportunity for enlightenment or awakening on December 21st.  There are many takes on this phenomena of late and I have kind of bought into one in particular that describes the actual scientific explanation and how there will be a window of about 8 minutes where we will be able to absorb this energy of the shifting planets and if you are open to it, may actually be able to awaken to a higher consciousness - a shift, a new way of thinking and doing that will be for the betterment of individuals as well as the collective.

So pay attention on this day and if new thoughts come to you, you are advised to write them down, no matter how far-fetched or unusual they seem as a way to remember what came to you and then perhaps begin to act on them and make changes to the way you live your life, perhaps live a larger life than the one you are living now.

Based on what happened today, it can't come soon enough.  

My Never-ending Journey

Nothing like a sick day on the sofa to give one pause.  Feeling physically incapable of much at all, the day called for quiet and self-reflection (like I haven't done enough of that in the last 3 years - ugh!).

I rummaged through my collection of books next to my bed knowing I would not choose fiction.  No, today called for some sort of inward journey (again!).  I find when I am in this sort of mood, the book I actually need to be reading usually jumps out at me immediately and today was no exception.  It was time to revisit sections of "Finding Meaning in the Second Half of Life", even though the mere title of the book can sometimes depress me reminding me that I actually really am in the "second half".

It was sort of apropos considering I had just shot off a note to the CEO of Habitat for Humanity to see if he would be interested in talking to me about creating an off shoot of his organization devoted to the interior decorating of the houses they build for the needy.  I figured they should not only provide a roof over the heads of the recipients but why not look nice as well?  It would be such a pleasure to be able to do my work for people who might really appreciate my efforts even it it did mean beg, borrowing and stealing furniture and supplies to do it from generous donors all over the province - I thought the idea had some merit and still do despite his gracious decline of my offer and idea.

Anyway, I digress.  The book.  Back to Dr. James Hollis, PH.D and his incredible contribution to those looking to find meaning in this challenging materialistic world we live in.  I flipped straight to the back of the book as I recall that is the section that had the most impact on me the first 10 times I read it.  Yes, there they were - the 10 questions.  The 10 best questions you will ever ask yourself.  You may  not be able to answer them all at once and truth be known I am still chipping away at some of them myself.  So I thought it might be a good idea to share them with all of you because I doubt many of you out there have this book or have even heard of it, so here goes.....the title of this list could stop you for a good while itself.  Dr. Hollis - I now give you the floor.

Is the Life you are Living too Small for your Soul's Desire?

Consider these questions.  Answer them honestly to yourself or they will prove of no value.  If they hurt a bit, or intimidate a lot, then they are hitting home for you.  Answer them honestly, and you are on the way to the insight that leads to wisdom, the wisdom that leads to change, the change that leads to a larger life, and the larger life that ultimately provides healing because it is the life the gods intended for you.

1.  Where has life in its unfairness, stuck you, fixated you, caused you to circle back and back upon this wounding as a provisional definition and limitation of your possibilities?  Why do you continue to cooperate with the wound, rather than serve something larger, which serves you in return?

2.  Where has life blessed you, given you a gift? And what have you done with that gift? How have you accepted the responsibility that goes with it?

3.  Where are you blocked by fear, stuck, rigid, resistant to change?

4.  What is the fear beneath the fear?  The fear that intimidates you only gains its power from the wiring beneath it, the wiring of history, which leads to a deeper fear, a fear from your past.  This circuitry activates the old message that this fear, this issue, is larger than you, and so you ignore the conscious, empowered adult you have become since then.

5.  Where was your father stuck, and where has that stuck place shown up in your life?  Where was your mother stuck and where has that stuck place shown up in your life?  Are you repeating their lives, their patterns, or tying to overcome them by compensation, or treating the problem in a way that brings harm and further self-alienation?  Is this the legacy you will pass on to your children?

6.  Where do you avoid conflict, the necessary conflict of values, and therefore avoid living in fidelity with who you are?

7.  What ideas, habits, behavioral patterns are holding you back from the large journey of the soul? What secondary gains do you receive by staying mired in the old - security, predictability  validation from others? Are you now tired enough, hurting enough to begin to take the soul's journey on?

8.  Where are you still looking for permission to  live your life?  Do you think that someone else is going to give it to you?  What are you waiting for, someone else to write the script of your life for you?

9.  Where do you need to grow up?  When will this happen?  Do you think someone else will do it for you?

10.  What have you always felt called toward, but feared to do?  Does this possibility still summon you, symbolically if not literally?  What new life wishes to come into being through you?

So, there you have it my dear readers.  I challenge each and every one of you to consider these questions, or some of them at least and see where it takes you.  

Work on them one at a time.  Try to do it before New Year's Eve and then start 2013 with a whole new approach to your life.  

And you thought losing 10 lbs  as your new year's resolution was tough - piece of cake next to this! 

Happy trails!

Home Sweet Home...for Now

Hosting a social occasion in one's home, however humble, is oft reason to quickly pull your place together.  I had been putting off this "pulling together" for weeks since I moved into my new digs in June.  I was exhausted from having moved twice within a year, feeling rather uninspired in the new space and was generally not really excited about the prospect of it since it will likely only be another temporary accommodation before I move again into a more permanent home.

What I failed to realize was that the very off-putting of this task was what was bringing me down more than the seeming futility of it.  Why bother I thought, I will be gone before long.  But this attitude and present state of my home was having a much larger impact on my general state of mind than I realized.  It is not like me to be so accepting of clutter and disarray, so facing it daily was subliminally affecting my usual energy.  It was time to hop to it.

I do tend to dive into these zones of creativity with an almost obsessive compulsive approach.  Ideas fire up in my brain and I become completely focused on the task at hand...a woman on a mission.   I needed to address the entry first.  The tiny box-like space between the first and second door leading to a set of 17 stairs that were a blank hollow echo chamber leading to the living space.  What to do?  Bear in mind that whatever I do, it has to be able to be accomplished quickly, inexpensively and result in something unique and expressive of moi.  

Painting was out of the question time-wise and I did not want the mess of it.  I wanted the stairway to have some personality.  I wanted to draw the eye away from the ugliness of the steps with their aluminum step caps and plain white risers topped with cork flooring.  The banister was equally uninspired in a wood stain with high gloss varathane coating  - ugh!  I need to paint it black at the very least, but again, no time for that.  I started playing with letters in my head.  Turn the steps into a phrase.  Something welcoming...but not "welcome" That would be too banal.    Steps. Stairs. Arrows leading people up. Clever architectural words. The French words for enter, stairway, think, think, think. 

That's when it came to me.  Stairway to heaven.  Ugh, no, how stupid.  Believe me, this place is nice enough, but heaven it is not.  Wait, it does have some merit.  I counted the steps again. Seventeen of them.  GOT IT!  S T A I R W A Y  2  H A V E N (all my homes are havens in a way I thought). I got in the car and went on a search for stick on letters and numbers.  Gotta love Canadian Tire.  This was the result. I had to take the photos in 2 pieces but you get the idea.  

Next was the living room which I had pretty much done but it needed a bit of attention, so I moved a few things around and that took very little time and I was happy with the result.  I used to take myself way too seriously with my decorating.  I was pretty traditional.  The new me is all about fun and colour and if it speaks to me, don't try to over think it.  I go with my gut now and just let feeling dictate more than practicality or even function sometimes.  I want to like looking at it.  That is my new rule of thumb. (Love my Dudeman!)

There was another unaddressed space in the hall leading to the bedrooms from the living room and I had zero budget for a console table but I did have some assorted art that was stacked in my daughter's room with no where to call home and a small demi-lune outdoor table that needed to be protected from the winter.  It was coming inside and it is really a bit too deep for the space, but it works for now and I think the hall looks less like an empty shell now and the vignette I created cost me twenty bucks worth of candles and some elbow grease to clean the table after a summer outside on the deck. (Thanks Cindy for the Cape Breton folk art - I love her!)

I am always re-energized when I like my surroundings.  This recent spurt of creativity was just what I needed heading into the dreary month of November and as we spend so much time inside in the winter months, a necessary balm for any pending S.A.D. that may creep up unexpectedly.  It is even more gratifying having done it for next to nothing.  

Roll Credits

Glass Waterfall Coffee Table: Shelter

Sofa: MGBW, Elte

Raspberry Chair: Shelter

Green Chair: Shelter

Bookcases: Ikea

Kitchen Table and Chairs:  Shelter

Media Stand: Ikea

Carpet: End of the Roll

Floor Mirror: Custom Designed

Stiletto Art: Dudeman, (Nicholas Sinclair)

Floral Framed Photography: Paul Causie

Surveyors Floor Lamp:  Ethan Allen

Gingham Ottoman:  Ethan Allen

Table Lamp and End Table: Home Sense

Accessories: Muskoka Living, Artifacts, Home Sense

Mmmmore, More, More!

There are some foods that have become sought after in my life.  When I say sought after, I am referring to perfection.  The "perfect crab cakes", the "perfect Caesar salad", the "perfect hamburger", the "perfect fish and chips", the "perfect pizza", the "perfect butter tart"....you get the gist.

I find myself in a city or a restaurant and I start to gauge the possibility.  Is this a place that makes all their own food from scratch, or am I getting prepared frozen crap from another source?  Does Dufflet deliver their desserts or is a there a talented young chef slaving away in the kitchen back there cranking out the ultimate flaky pastry or tiramisu with painstaking attention to quality ingredients and just the special unique touch to elevate his/her creation to heavenly status?

Ever since I read Eat Pray Love, I am chomping at the bit to go to Naples and eat that pizza Elizabeth Gilbert became addicted to not caring that every day that passed caused her to gain a pant size.  The gelato too for that matter.  Sometimes you just have to throw caution to the wind and worry about losing the 10 lbs later.

The current winner, historically speaking for the crab cakes was a place in Charleston, South Carolina called Magnolia.  I have attempted a few since then, but so far, they have paled in comparison.  The hamburger is still elusive.  Nothing  has ever even come close to beating my mother's homemade patties that my father would BBQ, leaving them pink in the middle and the fat and juices dripping out of them with every bite.  Now, health regulations manage to ruin every restaurant's attempts to cook them properly - no pink allowed - ugh!

I also have a thing about Italian Sausage.  My father used to work with an Italian guy who made his own sausages.  Once a year he would invite my father to come and join him in a day of sausage making as he had all the equipment necessary and the ingredients would be carefully chosen and mixed to create the most exquisite lean, perfectly seasoned sausages this side of the Atlantic.  My dad liked to really taste the fennel, which in my opinion is what  gives this sausage the unique and delicious punch it needs to reach nirvana status.  The level of spiciness is secondary to this.  I like hot, but some people can't handle that, so even a mild heat with enough fennel will do.  I recently bought some hot ones from a local butcher called Cumbraes, hoping that at long last I had found "the perfect store bought Italian Sausages".  

Tonight when I got home from work, I poured a glass of red and pulled my expensive ($8 for two) Italian treats out of the fridge and set about to cook them.  My plan was to toss a salad to go with my extravagant purchase.  I got distracted by a Skype call with my BFF in Austin while they were sizzling in the pan and by the time they were ready, I was tipsy from my red wine and feeling lazy, so I placed one on a plate and sliced into it (standing at the stove) with the notion I would just taste it first and then make my salad.  I noticed straight away how lean it was - a good sign.  I let it cool just enough so that it was still very warm but not too hot that it would burn the roof of my mouth.  The smell was mouth-watering and the "chew" factor was just right.  I began to taste the fennel, then the hot spicy heat just the right level.  Mmmmm, this was good.  One more bite before I make the salad.  OK, one more.  Alright, I will finish this one sausage and save the second one to have with my salad.  All told, I had cut this delectable tube of magic Mediterranean meat into seven slices of food heaven.  

I became possessed with the kind of hunger for more, reminiscent of my teenage libido.  Screw the salad I decided - tonight I shall dine on sausage and red wine and nothing more.  No arugula,  no tiny sweet cherry tomatoes, no thinly sliced red onion, no shaved parmigiana reggiano or balsamic vinaigrette   Just me, the meat and my wine.  I summoned up my inner cave woman and savoured slice after slice of this savoury succulent meat in a casing.  As I watched my second sausage disappear as quickly as the first one, I regretted only buying two, even though that was already double the amount I would normally ingest.  Each delicious bite like a tiny foodgasm, my taste buds alive with joy and satisfaction.  I was transported, animal-like in my devouring of this pure protein and fat feast.

It was over way too soon.  Another similarity to teenage sex I thought. I splashed what was left of the wine into my glass and retired to the sofa to write this blog, not knowing when I started what I was going to write about, but lo and behold, a little synopsis of my night of fine dining and the end of my search for the "perfect Italian Sausage."  

Aaahhhh!  Got a light?

Just Call me Sir Edmund Hilary

Is everyone around me facing some kind of struggle these days?  That is how it seems.  Here I am up in the night, unable to sleep...again.  I am physically tired, but my mind is wide awake.  I thought perhaps a wee bowl of cereal might do the trick, but I tried that and it just made me crave a piece of cinnamon toast.  I have not had that yet, but if a bit of writing does not send me back to the land of nod, I may crank up the toaster.

Custody battles. Cervical Cancer. Job angst. Aging and dying parents. Aging and dying friends. Separations. Divorces. Money woes. 

Just a few of the dramas going on around me to people I know or care about or love. No wonder I cannot sleep.  Sometimes my own problems pale in comparison.  Most times actually.  A psychic recently told me that my life looks great to others.  She said it as though it was some sort of special gift I had.  But inside she said, I knew the truth.  The truth about my reality.  I got to thinking about what she said and realized that for most of my life, I even believed the hype.  My own hype.  Even I bought into my outward persona.  

The part of me that has been churning on the inside for what seems forever was something I was able keep under control.  At arms length.  Just below the surface.  I knew it was there, but I was stronger.  I could outwit it.  Slap it back down when it got too noisy.  Lately it is getting harder to silence.  What is it she is trying to tell me?  What is it that I don't want to hear?  What is it I fear about her?  

I am not going to answer these questions tonight.  In fact, the thought of trying to answer them is enough to make me want to escape back to sleep.  These inner explorations are exhausting.  I have been on this journey for the better part of three years consciously now and it feels as though I am coming to a culmination point with these last few miles the hardest.  I am so ready to reach the top of this mountain I have been climbing and plant my flag.  But then what?  What will I see on the other side?  Is it all downhill from there?  Or, can I just camp out at the top for a while?  Hang there and enjoy the view until a big wind comes along and knocks me off that perch. 

Has traversing this rocky climb been worth it? Will the view be rewarding enough?  Should I have just been happy with making it to the base camp and then turned back?  The only way of knowing is to make the climb.  Reach the peak.  Or, as the saying goes, will it be lonely at the top?  

One thing I know for sure is that I have always been a sucker for a spectacular view and if I can still have cinnamon toast up there...

...well, that may just be heaven on earth.


"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others." Marianne Williamson

Hugs "R" us

Sitting here in my hotel room in our nation's capital after a perfect late summer day spent with my daughter on the eve of her 18th birthday.  She is attending an evening class and I am alone waiting for her to join me.  A series of flashbacks have been going through my mind all day and as I ponder our journey together as mother and daughter the one thing that stands out in my mind is hugging.

Hugs have been our glue.  Our cure-all.  Our balm.  When she was barely old enough to walk and talk, it was the solution to every fall, every victory, every bad dream. Hugs were like band-aids for us.  Any seeming crisis has always been followed with hugs. We have hugged every morning, every evening and any time in between when we just felt the need.  

When she knew that she would be leaving for Ottawa, she was excited and this great new life and adventure was spread out before her.  It was all positive.  The only thing she stopped to contemplate was "how would she live without our hugs."?  How, indeed.

So, today when I saw her coming toward me in the residence courtyard, I watched as every step she took toward me was like a dance of brisk moving legs and arms that started to reach toward me with the same familiarity that I have witnessed for most of her 18 years, and the sweet tilt in her head and smile on her face that accompanies this intimate ritual between us and it always feels the same.  Warm and heartfelt and connected.  For this moment in time, all is well with the world.  She is safe and secure and loved.

As she gets older and spends more and more time away from me, these are the moments she can carry with her and know that even though they are not as frequent, they will always be waiting for her the next time. 

Happy Birthday baby - here's to many more years of adventure, learning and of course...hugs.

Mom xoxooo

Transitions 101

We grow accustomed to rituals in our lives and then just as we get comfortable with them, something changes.  It is life.  This is possibly one of the strangest Labour Day weekends for me in about 14 years.  

It is the first one without my daughter.  Up until now it was all about new school supplies, lunch bags, clean uniforms, talk of buckling down and getting up early again.  Not this time.  This time she is on her own in another city, no nagging mother reminding her to take her water bottle, her vitamins, straightening some stray hairs in her part.  She has to do it herself now.  

The twists and turns in the last couple of years have been challenging, but this one may actually end up being the biggest challenge of all for me.  It did not hit me until it was here.  We both knew it was on the horizon and we were excited and eager for this transition but it's all talk until you actually embrace for the last time.  When I was driving away, I felt like going back for one more hug.  The the next day I thought I might drive over to her father's for one more as they were not leaving for Ottawa until yesterday.  I thought better of it.  I will be seeing her in a couple of weeks when I visit her up there for her birthday.

Still, that's a long time between hugs.  It's crazy really.  She has been away at camp for as long as six weeks in the past and I was fine with that.  But she was coming home then.  There was a beginning and an end.  I know this is not the same as when she will leave permanently, but it is the step before that and if she chooses to spend summers up there, it is pretty close to the same.

I packed a card for her to open tonight for her first night in residence in her new room.  It is as close to a hug as I figured we could get.  I hope she pulls it out whenever she is feeling homesick, or lonely, or sad or overwhelmed.  Thank goodness for Skype.  At least I will be able to see her face and gauge her moods.  She is and always has been a hopeless liar - I can read her face and know in an instant when she is not being truthful about something despite any claims to the contrary.  She knows it too and she generally just gives in the moment I call her on it. 

Funny how we think of our kids being so dependent on us, but in some ways we are equally dependent on them.  In my new single life, it was she who was often here at the end of the day to listen to me, share meals, walk somewhere together.  I took it for granted.  I realize that now that the place is empty when I get home.  Time to re-acquaint myself with myself.  I don't mind being alone.  Most of the time. 

So, this Labour Day weekend begins a new chapter.  For her.  For me. For her father.  When I dropped her off I asked her to stand in front of his house and pose for a photo.  I have always taken a "first day of school" photo even in recent years when she would roll her eyes and protest, but she indulged me and stood with her computer in her arms across her chest and smiled and I got a shot for the record books.  

Probably the last one on her scholastic journey.  Another milestone.  Another memory.

Carpe diem my sweet girl!

It's Golden and Rare

The silence here is deafening tonight.  The windows are open and I can hear crickets.  They remind me that summer is not over...yet.  I can hear a jet off in the distance, landing or taking off, not sure.  There are traffic sounds out front and pleasant voices in a back yard to the rear of me, but in here, in my kitchen, complete quiet surrounds me. 

Normally I would put some music on.  But not tonight.  As much as I am tempted to break the silence, I am equally loathe to tamper with it.  Everyone is gone.  My girl, the cat, the hairdresser downstairs, even my ex-husband has moved out of town.  The whirlwind that has been my life for the past several months has slowed to a breeze.  A subtle, gentle, unobtrusive whisper. 

Just me, a cup of hot tea and and an empty nest.  There are a few minutes of dusk left, a haze of deep orange on the horizon that can be seen from where I am sitting and just now the sound of the fridge motor.  A car up the alleyway just started its engine, but that is it.  I had been longing for this moment for days.  Peace. Rest. Solitude.  Now it is here and I am not so sure about it.  I hear the voices of friends saying "Oh, they may drive you nuts, but you'll miss them when they are gone."  I will surely miss my girl, the shedding furball and his litter box, not so much. 

I need this right now.  This time to myself.  Time to reflect on yet another transition.  Time to re-group.  Re-focus.  Re-charge.  That's alot of "reeing" going on I realize.  However, this is the reality.  I have been running on empty for a few weeks now. 

Time to re-boot.  Start writing more again.  Pay closer attention to my diet.  Get back to my work-out routine.  Turn ebb into flow.  Regain some balance.  This renewal that has taken place so may times before as we head into September.  Even though my school days are long past, this time of year still conjurs up this feeling.  Fresh starts make sense now, like a packet of brand new Laurentian coloured pencils once did the first day of classes or a pair of new penny loafers or a new lunch box. 

For tonight however, all these plans can wait.  Park themselves, turn off the engine and just listen to this summer night.  Savour the peace and quiet and let the crickets sing me to sleep, and with any luck, let me sleep all the way through the night. 

After the marathon of life I have just run, the chances of that might be pretty good.

Nite all.

She's Ready.

It's official.  She is ready.  My baby is ready to leave the nest.  She just beat me by 99 points.  This is a first.  For her.  For me.  For the record book.  She and I have been playing Scrabble since she was old enough to spell. 

In the early days she was hopeless.  She would play weak 2 and 3 letter words with no concept of strategy on the board and would get so frustrated when I would crush her with 32 point words played off of her lame moves that opened the triple for me.  I did feel a little guilty back in the day about stomping on her like that, but it was my plan.

NO mercy!  Not even when she was 6.  Her father was appalled that I would be so mean.  He would pull me aside and tell me to let her win.  NOPE! No way.  No way was I going to let her think she was winning when she was not.  It was my intention to give her a reality check.  A metaphor for life I figured.  No falsehoods.  No bullshit.  Learn how to win.  Perfect your game.  Too many kids were growing up thinking they were the be all and end all when really they were just average kids.  She was going to know that if she wanted to win, she was going to have to learn the game if she wanted to win.

Tonight all my efforts paid off.  She has won before, but never by such a margin.  She was elated.  Secretly, so was I.   She is smarter than me. Just as strategic, and motivated to win.  This is a good thing.  The next decade will challenge all kids her age.  She is about to head off to first year university next week and she will join the throngs of kids her age who will graduate in 2016.  It won't be easy for them.  The world is changing fast and by that time, who knows what will have transpired in this crazy world.

She will need to be clever and strategic and motivated.  No one will have an easy go of it unless they have a family business they can walk into, or they are the creme de la creme of their crop.  The challenges will lie before them like track hurdles, each one more and more difficult to clear. 

I don't know if our years of Scrabble games will help her all that much...but I reckon they cannot have hurt.

Congrats my sweet girl - you blew me out of the water tonight...and I am still smiling. :)

7 letters - 50 extra points - Pffft! And no, Vexs is NOT the plural of Vex! And you won with losing that challenge too!   Be proud.

Moving on......Again.

The birds chirping in my (at first glance) seedy back alley sound the same as they have in all my homes all my life.  That is re-assuring.  I am sitting here this temperate Sunday morning, sipping tea, all four of my windows open wide to let some fresh air blow through after days of non-stop A/C filling the air listening to this choir of birdsong, backed up with a little traffic whitenoise from the front of the building.  It will do.

I have been in my new humbler abode for 9 days now.  There are still boxes to unpack, closets to organize, pictures to hang, but this morning, I need this.  I need a moment.  Moving is exhausting.  I have moved twice in a year now.  I have too much stuff and not enough storage space.  I now have a treadmill adjacent to my living room, which is also my kitchen and dining room.  House and Home will not be shooting the next issue in my "small" space, that is a given.

Oddly, however, I am OK with it all.  I miss the spectacular view I had in Port Credit, but I sure don't miss the commute into town.  I am saving a good hour a day, time that is precious and now I can re-ignite some "me" time that felt like it had been savagely stripped from me when I started my new job in April.  I sense a bit of normality returning to my  life, whatever that means.  In my case, getting back into some of my fitness routines that seemed to be taking the hit the last couple months.

Weathering some major life changes takes its toll.  New job, moving, selling house, kid heading off to university.  Somehow we manage to "stay calm and carry on".  Stay in the moment.  Stay in the moment.  I repeat this mantra over and over.  It helps to not try to look too far ahead and not looking back is generally a good idea as well.  Have you ever tried it?  Not as easy as it sounds.  But it does work.  That is not to say that I am able to do it all the time.  There are days when I positively suck at it.  It is a practice, like meditation and I am practicing.

My view has now been replaced by a wee oasis.  This apartment has a sizable deck that faces a back alley.  Bamboo walls have been installed on either side for privacy, a new bright green patio umbrella, some tropical plants and flowers, a wall planter full of fresh herbs which were supplemented by the little old Italian woman across the laneway the other day as she gifted me with a handful of basil seedings - all good I say.

It was a sweet welcome.  She has a hole cut out of her frost fence that allows her entry from her backyard into the alley.  She stooped to pass through with her fist full of sweet smelling basilico and asked me if I spoke Italian.  I regretted telling her I did not.  She thought I looked Italian she told me.  That was a first.  She then took me back through the hole in the fence and showed me her garden.  Perfect neat rows of tomatoes, swiss chard, green onions, peppers, nary a weed in sight.  I praised her efforts and thanked her whole-heartedly for her welcome to the neighbourhood and came back and planted the seedlings. 

Come September, I will have lush amounts of fresh basil to add to the countless tomatoes that I have no doubt she will be giving me.

How lucky is that?  The new hood is looking better all the time.

Leafy Life Lesson

Ten minutes ago, a solar eclipse began its process in the sky here in Toronto and other cities along this longitude.  I decided to experience this astronomical event alone, meditating the wonder of such things while I listened to some peaceful music, Reflections of Nature, Zen and the Art of Relaxation.  The sun is low in the sky now, but has not yet set. The lake looks cold and  blue, the sky is clear, a few sailboats linger about before heading in to dock for the night. 

I am continually inspired by nature, the tree canopy below my window, almost full in its fresh lush spring leaf.  I picked a maple leaf off of a tree today, just to hold it and admire its newborn perfection, the perfect points, the almost translucent green delicacy of it.  Year after year, the same trees budding out and forming these stunningly beautiful individual works of art by the millions.  We take them for granted, all these leaves, as they start out so fresh-faced and hopeful before they are battered with wind and rain and the heat of the mid-summer sun and sometimes they war against more than the elements.  They fall victim to insects, or disease and if they are lucky enough to make it to autumn, they begin to darken, dry out and crinkle. 

But just before they eventually fall from their mother branches, most of them gather up the strength for one final show of beauty and resilience.  They wow us with a show of the most spectacular colour, holding on now for dear life.  "Look at me!  Look at me!  It has taken a life time for you to finally notice me!"  And we do.  We notice.  We spend October in awe of these now elder leaves, breathing in the heady smell of ones already fallen, crunching beneath our feet as we pass under the trees that start to drop them.  Brilliant reds, golden yellows, deep oranges. 

Artists paint them, photographers capture them, small children jump and play in the raked piles of them.  Their life has had meaning.  They have brought joy to all those who notice them, to those who appreciate them and they will knowingly return in their next lifetime to do it again.  They fear not the falling.  They accept it as part of the journey.  They were the lucky ones to survive what life dished upon them.  They reached their goal.

If we were to ask these leaves - "Was it worth it?"  Was it worth the strength it took to hang on, to battle the elements, resist the disease, suffer the insects chewing through bits of your perfect symmetry?  I think they would wonder why we would even ask such a question as they softly fluttered to the ground, back to the earth whence they came, on their next journey to feed the earth, knowing another generation of leaves just like them would return again in six months, nourished by these, their fallen ancestors.

"But wait, was it the journey or the destination?", I would want to ask them. "What was the best part?" And they would reply, "without the journey, there is no destination...and a word of advice, their voices would echo as the breeze lifted them, carried them away...the journey goes quickly, don't miss it."