It had been five years since we had crossed the floor of the establishment. The wooshing of the door swept us into the Diner while rock music played and the smell of delicious spices filled the air. Abe's was a locally owned and operated celiac friendly diner with superior food choices. We used to head towards the mountains often with our family of five, and Abe's gave us a sense of food safety, cheery dialogue and delicious delight.
After we ordered our Gluten free brownie for our appetizer and our burgers for the main course, we soon found the owner, Louis, at our table with an exuberant, "I KNEW it was you! As soon as I heard the order for a brownie first, I thought, these are my people, the interesting ones who eat dessert first always, even with younger kids!" We caught up with him and it felt like we were still five years younger, as if no time had passed at all, and we were still considered unique enough for an owner to remember us.
I had been struggling with age related changes; new wrinkles, crinkled skin around the elbows, translucent older hands, eye puffiness and feeling the creak of new pains and chronic illness related aging. I was feeling a bit too old for this world, washed out, irrelevant, with all the large moments behind me. (I know it's maybe laughable for those older than me, but approaching forty with chronic illness has not been a picnic either within this new transition, after three months of varied sickness and a semi bedridden state. I knew I should feel so grateful for all that I have, but the new step into a different phase of life was still a transition I was coming to terms with.)
Louis excitement and genuine interest in us, made us feel a bit hip (if that is a word that is even used anymore!) or at least, memorable. Buffered by his statements, I felt revitalized. Which triggered a question to myself, "What little moments in daily life can you notice to revitalize the magic of BEING?"
Sensory is both my magic and my hardship. Isn't that the way life tends to go? Each moment can be used for good or ill. Bad things can be transformed or redeemed. Goodness can become corrupt or perverted. Life is BOTH/ AND. But sometimes, I can focus my lens too much on what I am doing wrong or all the new lines and bags of my skin, and forget to look into the beauty both around me and in me. This body may not work at optimal and trigger me into phases where I do not feel like my full self, but it is also my vessel in this world. I smile, hug, love and write with this precious vessel of imperfection. Using my senses, I can choose to hold into perspective, the sensory around my day, that gives LIFE.
So, in that vein of thought, without further ado, the moments I have taken notice of since Louis triggered me back into BEING:
* A Million Dreams soaked into the walls as my son gracefully played the tune from the piano in his room. At least once a day, he will sit, sometimes for hours at a time, and just play his heart out. Minutes later, my home is echoing with remnants and reverberations of rhythm and soul. Our company will ask, "Who is playing? That is so beautiful." My heart will swell with joy, that my son, who could never attend piano lessons, attends to the joy in his expression and becomes one with the music.
* Silence and the quiet evening hush is often interrupted by the tiny chomping noises down the hall. It is my cat eating his food at night. It sounds like someone eating corn pops. I will often smile and get tingles of memories from holidaying as a child and eating out of the mini boxed corn pop containers with a dollop of poured milk inside. That sound has tones of water lapping from lakeside days, and towel scratching sun soaked afternoons. Often most of the house is already snoozing, but the cat and I are awake, visiting moments of satisfaction; His in nurturance of the body and mine in nurturance of mindful memories.
* Witnessing my name in an a published book and having a little blurb in another chapter! Thanks Jenna and Jennifer for this amazing opportunity and friendship! LINK HERE. I am going to hopefully gobble up this book this weekend! Woot. I am just so ecstatic for Jenna and Jennifer!
* In the midst of catching up with a friend I had not seen in over four years, the conversation was swiftly changed when she remarked, "Oh, how lovely! I have not heard that sound in such a long time. I absolutely love your husband's laugh. It's so full of joy. You do not get to hear that sound much but it makes my heart happy." I felt proud and happy that my husband not only is admired in his hearty laughter by me, but gets the deserved notice from others and they in turn find some joy.
* The burnt smell of glue gun greeted me as I walked into my eldest son's room as he was creatively making stop motion pieces. My mind stuttered out of the to do list I was compiling in my head and flowed into awe at how brilliant his actions in life can be. (Picture above is his requested Punk birthday we did on the fly!)
* My daughter's laugh is loud in the best possible way. I can hear her joy from across the house. I recently read a quote that stated; "You are so much sunshine to square inch." Walt Whitman. Of course, I sent it to my daughter because it summed her up in a nutshell. She has so many strong emotions, that often I need to step back for a moment to gather my bearings, but sometimes, I forget to just allow the beauty of them to BE different from me.
* My eyes were craving green. In the past I had not had success with green in rooms. Being partial to emerald green, but having darker light, I needed to find a green that filled my constant craving for depth in colour ( I tend to shy away from any cold colour as paint in my home) without being drowned in tones of grey or lime. I woke up one morning deciding to change a few pieces of furniture, but we ended up clearing most of a wall, so I thought, why not try painting green while I'm at it? In one afternoon and evening, I had painted three coats of a colour I randomly picked online called Evergreens, after phoning into my local store, charging it to my convenient hubby's carpenter account, and hoping it worked in my house. (Not the smartest idea but I was in one of my "mad creative moods where there is no reasoning" as my husband likes to describe it as.) I briefly mudded, and put the entire kitchen back to a new arrangement. My dining/ kitchen is my trickiest space in my house due to the multiple pathways and as the Genie in Aladdin states, "Itty, bitty living space." I had always wanted to bring a lounging chair into the kitchen. My husband thought it was unrealistic and slightly indulgent but in the end I won. While not my favourite green, the colour chosen, wasn't icky either, and evokes a feeling of freshness I do not fully get in the rest of my home. I read once that people tend to be the most opposed in their feelings towards green in the home. For myself, this time, I am loving the new beginnings it begets.
* Bella Grace click (And their other publication The Field Guide to Magic which is tough to find here in Canada) is my occasional money indulgence. Sometimes I cringe at the amount I am spending on a magazine which could go toward bills or groceries, but each time I can afford the splurge, it is worth the extra pennies. (I guess I am aging myself in my phrases!) Recently I cozied up on the kitchen lounger I had moved from a room downstairs and read to my husband while he cooked up savoury chili. The aroma of garlic accompanied my voice, as I choked back tears at some of the beautiful words in each article I traversed. My husband would give an occasional thought or chuckle or vocal "hmmmm" and I realized, I did not just invest in a magazine, I invested in a moment, a marriage, an inspiration and a delight.
*My youngest stopped to kiss my forehead as he does each time he enters or leaves any room I am in. This time, as he departed, a mischievous grin crept upon his face as he stated in a deep voice, "And now I must go, I have smart things to do and handsome mirrors to meet. Goodbye fair maiden." And as usual he left me with cheery mirth as my companion. I love hearing his brother and him chuckle and whisper on their almost nightly sleepovers exchanging mattresses in each room.
*Lisette is a mystic, astronomer and guide I met this year who lives on the bottom of my continent while I live near the top. Not being on social media, it is a bit odd that we recently connected. We had a mutual friend who had stated to each of us that we would like each other and simply had to meet. Dear Amy, set up an appointment through Zoom for us. What was supposed to be a half hour official appointment ended up being a four hour chat and an exchange in our talents instead. Both Lisette and Amy had heard about the unusual death of my brother in law in the Autumn and wanted to give support. Lisette told me that due to my Scorpio nature, the next few months would be reliant on friends and family for wage. Frankly, I dreaded that and was hoping it wasn't entirely accurate, but as these things go, it was not in the way I assumed. My husband, a carpenter, ended up getting work, project to project, based on people we knew from that moment onward. I love it when the messages of love, spirit, temperament, environment and personality open up to the dialogue and flow of life. On Friday I get to connect again. In the meantime, Amy, our mutual friend has been editing another project I have in my creative fires, and has given me much to ponder, appreciate, savour and be thankful for. Free time given from a friend is so valuable.
*The times that I have gone up in size, I usually DREAD or try to avoid shopping for bigger clothes. I tell myself it's temporary and to not get comfortable. The problem with this mentality is that I am not only uncomfortable but constantly cranky from tight pants and restrictive fits. Luckily, I re wardrobe our entire family at a consignment store called Platos Closet. We have not bought new items in over a decade unless it is of the personal nature. Thus, wardrobe changes are often fairly cheap. My weight fluctuates regularly, seasonally and in chronic illness phases. I range from a size 6 (the smallest I personally have ever been) to a size 12. Generally I feel my best at a size 7/8. Knowing this, I usually keep clothes from every size, but last Spring I went from a 12 to 7 in three months, and never wanting to go back, I got rid of most of my clothes in hopes of prevention. Gah. I annoy myself. Anyway, my husband took me last month to buy a few fitting outfits in the size 10 I find myself in. I almost cried at the cute outfits that would not fit, and the reflection of the ones that did...but the silver lining was a moment when I saw the employees, some of whom were double my size, rocking outfits and looking far more beautiful than I felt. Suddenly, I took off my sizest lens. I thought, "Hey, at home I may be surrounded by only skinny friends and be the largest one, but out in the world, it's a range...and these girls are incredibly beautiful. Skinny does not mean successful. Skinny does not mean altogether perfect. Skinny does not mean that I am worthy. Cellulite should not define me. It does not mean I do not make wise choices in food or am lazy. It does not mean I have completely fallen off the bandwagon of health." And just like that, my perspective changed to the statement, "I GET to buy new clothes" instead of "I HAVE to buy new clothes." I will probably be writing about this again, as it is my ever struggle, but for now, as I strive on the treadmill and hope for a bit of loss, I am reminding myself not to live in "if only."
*My sister crafted a Gluten free high tea that tasted better than the posh Banff Springs Hotel High Tea. I love freely roaming Banff Springs, but they have nothing on my sister's creations! Holding the little cucumber sandwiches and tasting the delightful orange meringues, my tongue sizzled with sweet and savoury sensory satisfaction.
* Since November we have had a month and half long Influenza, followed a few weeks later by our family getting Covid. My husband had missed a bit of work. I missed three full holidays. It had been three years since we had experienced even a cold ( as far as contagious illness goes! So I supposed it was our turn.) A friend recently learned of a myriad of inner struggles we have had since, and gifted us with a gift card to Costco. I choked up a bit as I struggle with taking and not giving immediately back, but also with the lovely words she accompanied with her gifting. Our fridge was almost empty and I had been creatively serving whatever I had when company came calling. Popcorn and tea mostly topped the list. I also like to show up to people in need or whom are grieving in our community, so often my gifts are from my own pantry, home decor, or gift box I keep with collected discount items for such occasions. We have been semi- rich and we have been semi-poor. I don't think, from the outside looking in, that most people can tell which seasons we are in, with the house the way it is, and the lucky lifestyle we have. What I love about the poor moments, is that they taught me how to be savvy. Even in our richer states, I don't buy new clothes, I still buy on discount or sale or wholesale, and I thrift often. I apply for suiting programs I hear about when I can. I enlist extended family on hunts. Recently, my father knew we were driving the entire winter with bald tires on our one shared vehicle (a van my husband also uses for work. In a rural area that can get to weeks of -20- -30 Celsius vehicles are a MUST and the crazy fuel prices have been incredibly restrictive. ) My dad knew this because we would borrow mom's vehicle at the beginning of the month for our Costco city trip. Thus, he searched, and yesterday we fit our (new to us) cheap winter tires on our vehicle almost in time for Spring. Which means we will definitely be driving on them this summer, but oh how lucky and free we feel to be able to drive out of town without asking our parents permission. Ha!
*Shimmering specks float off our frost covered trees. The dreary fog plays an accompanied symphony on the background of the canvas. I live for sunshine but sun moments can still be found. There is something beautiful to a repressed landscape covered in crystal, snowy white as far as the eye can see. The air is heavy with condensation. Chilled, the fireplaces turn on, the Earl Gray Cream tea is brewed, and globs of raw honey are consumed. These are the days for writing. These are the days for wordy bliss and speculative imaginings. These are the days for transfiguring womb time.
In complete honesty, most of my regular readers probably already notice that I tend to take less pictures in seasons of weight and chronic illness struggle. I am trying to be more active about savouring the good so I have included the few I have taken here. Spring is around the corner. I can feel the hopeful awakening. The earth is getting ready with new shoots under the surface of ice. New beginnings are gestating. Womb time is almost over and the re birth is ready to give, become, and grow. I anticipate, while also reminding myself about the beauty of the remnants in late winter. Cushioning, comfort, weighted belonging, tea and book studies, and blanketed movie nights are wonders too. Whispered conversations with High School besties about vulnerable and intimate topics, just in case a teen ear may be trying to listen, can be just as satisfying as exuberant laughter and raucous joy.
This was our today …
Whatever season you are in literally and figuratively, remind yourself of the simple daily pleasures. Remind yourself that it's ok to BE. You are worthy and worth love simply because you exist.
Love;
Note: My ordinary struggles tend to surround chronic and contagious illness and go hand in hand with mental dips into depression ( influenced also by autistic sensory issues) , existential crisis ( this time aging) and marital issues when both of us have been sick for months and our relationship was not fully up to par. I want to state that I have enjoyed a beautiful existence otherwise, with many, many incredible friendship moments and I KNOW I have a lot. However, that does not negate the true gritty struggle of balancing a condition with recovery of contagious illnesses on top, plus the mental spiral that is real and legitimate. I have not been at my best. But I have hope for another version of myself to emerge from this frazzled cocoon.
Song Choice:
Nicole Mullen and Kathie Lee Gifford created a ten-minute narrative song called The God Who Sees. When I first heard it, I wept. For the next month it was the soundtrack for my treadmill sessions, when I was worried in bed, or on a drive. My family would tease, “I heard mom this morning singing and crying on the treadmill…no wonder she was out of breath later!” The song opens with the biblical story of Hagar and then Nicole begins to sing, “She’s crying in the desert, she’s lost in her despair. She thinks nobody loves her. Hagar thinks nobodies there. But God says, ‘I will be a ring of fire around her, and I will be the glory in her midst. And the power of my presence will bring her to her knees, and I will lift her up again, for I’m the God who sees.” In the music video, near the end, a ring of burning fire, in a setting in Jerusalem, surrounds Nicole. It was both what I would call ‘witchy’ but also incredibly sacred and full of God. The image of God being a ring of fire around me both humbled and empowered my perspective of life. “She’s hoping for a future, praying God will lead her there…” I often wonder if I have more moments left for my future. I have had a beautiful, full existence, but nearing forty, I have often felt I had all the “big” moments already. “David thinks his life is over, and God he doesn’t care. But God says, ‘I will be the rock of your salvation. I’ll hold you up by the strength of my right hand. And the power of my Spirit will free you from your fear. In the hour of your deepest need, you’ll find that I am near. I am here. Because I will be the ring of fire around you. I will be the glory in your midst. And the power of my presence will bring you to your knees, and I will lift you up again for I’m the God who sees.” My spirit felt validated. If David felt that way, and his heart was after God, it was ok for me to feel that way too. Of course, I did not have to hide in the desert from my own son (that would be an ultimate low) but I had my own struggles. I, like Hagar, often hope for a future while also wondering and questioning my worth for such a thing. “She’s crying in the garden. She’s broken in despair. She’s searching for her saviour, but his body isn’t there. Then He says, ‘Mary, glory, glory, halleluiah, I will be the glory in your midst. And every knee will bow to me and every tongue confess, and yes all the world will worship me in all my holiness. And I will be the ring of fire around you and I will be the glory in your midst. And the power of my presence will bring you to your knees, and I will lift you up again for I’m the God who sees…who sees you in your wilderness, sees you in your brokenness, when you’re feeling lonely, in the desert places, in your empty spaces, I’m nearer then you dare believe. Here in the very air you breathe. I am the God who sees You.’”
This post is dedicated to my Dad specifically, but I also made a video to both my parents near this 20th year of their marriage...Mom and Dad: You have been such a romantic example to me, in both the tough and the good times. Cheers to 20 years of Valentines together!"
I recently found this song by Jax, Like My Father in my suggested for a playlist I was making and decided to see what it was. So I clicked on it and while listening my eyes started to get glossy. After finishing the song I knew I had to share it with my parents, as I felt like it was their relationship to a T that I have seen throughout all my life. I showed it to my dad. After a few minutes of being in my room I came out to him listening to it in the kitchen while he was doing dishes. My heart melted and we spent around forty minutes listening to all of the artist's other songs together. My dad was so excited to show mom and both of them got teary when watching the music video.
My mom suggested that I write this post on the song. I agreed that it was a great idea as we all love it deeply. I also thought it would be nice to write it for my amazing dad. So let's get into the song which I also made my own video of my parents to below...
"I want to come home to roses, and dirty little notes on Post-its, and when my hair is turning grey he'll say I'm like a fine wine better with age. I guess I learned it from my parents, that true love starts with friendship. A kiss on the forehead, a date night, fake an apology after a fight."
There have been so many times in my life that I witnessed my dad buying my mom flowers and leaving little notes for her.
My parents always love trying to bug us and make dirty jokes especially my dad. Lots of times when they start kissing my dad will pop his head up and say "kids close your eyes!" We all exclaim "eeewwwww Dad!!" But I like seeing them so in love.
Throughout the years my dad has always said things to my mom like said in the quote above "you're like a fine wine. Better with age." In the quote below "And when my body changes shapes he'll say, ' You look hot today." My mom loves it when he says these things even if she has a hard time believing it.
I want a love like my parents as said in the song. "I guess I learned it from my parents, that true love starts with friendship" They have taught me what true love looks like. And though they did not start out as friends, they became best friends as they were dating and have stayed close even after the hard times.
I want someone who will kiss me on the forehead and has date nights with me like my parents do for each other (even if they don't get enough date nights due to having three kids). I love how this song says "fake an apology after a fight" I remember being taught that in relationships you sometimes have to fake it till you make it and fake apologies. Otherwise you might never say sorry.
"I need a man who's patient and kind, gets out of the car and holds the door. I wanna slow dance in the living room like we're eighteen at senior prom and grow old with someone who makes me feel young. I need a man who loves me like my father loves my mom."
My Dad has shown these (patient and kind) characteristics throughout his life. Not perfectly of course. He is always striving to be better. My dad truly is a kind hearted, sweet man.
When there is fun or romantic music on, I will often see them holding each other close and doing their ridiculous dance moves or swaying side to side. They always look like they are enjoying each other when they dance and I love seeing them be utterly ridiculous (which I hope to be with my future husband). (See video below.)
I feel like my parents keep each other young. My mom keeps the relationship young because of her innocence and her funny childish ways sometimes. And my dad does because of his humour and also his childish ways.
The way my dad loves my mom so deeply and beautifully is something that I've always wanted in a future spouse. "I need a man who loves me like my father loves my mom."
"I wanna road trip in thе summers. I wanna make fun of each other. I wanna rock out to Billy Joel, And flip our kids off when they call us old. He'll accidentally burn our dinner, And let me be the Scrabble winner, And when my body changes shapes, He'll say, "Oh my god, you look hot today."
My parents have gone on many road trips with and without us. I think it's when they get time to talk the most and what a better time to talk then driving around. They have always loved these drives and have taught us to enjoy it just as much (especially in the summer).
There is always non-stop making fun each other in our house. My dad is usually the source of it. It's fun to see my mom and dad make fun each other. They do it a lot and are still in love so that says something haha.
"I wanna rock out to Billy Joel..." We are a very musical family so obviously this is also something that I hope for. Like I said before my parents like to dance together and "rocking out" is definitely something that they "try" to do. 'Try' being the operative word as they do crazy dance moves that are very interesting to watch. I can't wait to freak my kids out with weird dance moves like they do to us.
Now if we ever call them old... oh man...their reactions are always big if they don't laugh. And yes we have been flipped off when us kids have said that they are old but of course this is all fun in games and hilarious as it's very dramatic (*clears throat. Dad*.)
My dad rarely ever burns our dinner. He is the main cook in our house and makes the best meals to nourish our bodies. I luckily took after my dad in the kitchen. I'm totally ok with my husband not loving the kitchen or having a talent in it like my mom....since I'm hoping to do 3/4 of the cooking, but we shall see.
When my dad heard this song for the first time when she says "And let me be the scrabble winner" he exclaimed, "Ha I would never do that!" Which is true, he really wouldn't. My parents are very competitive but it's very funny to see little tantrums (and game boards) being thrown by the ever sore loser.
"And if he lives up to my father, maybe he can teach our daughter, what it takes to love a queen, she should know she's royalty"
I hope my husband lives up to my father; kind, hardworking, gentle, truthful, and most of all faithful to me. I hope my future spouse can teach our daughter what it looks like to love a woman. Just like my dad showed me, by loving my mom, what it looks like to be loved by a man. Treating her like a queen so that she knows she's special and royalty.
"I need a man who loves me like, my father loves my mom."
Thank you dad for being such a great guy who loves my mom and all of us kids so deeply. Thanks to both my dad and my mom who showed us kids what a wonderful relationship looks like and how to treat our future mates. I love you so much.
And to my future husband, I'm so excited what our future holds for us. P.S. I made a video of my parents for Valentines of them below- password: love :
"A man may make a Remark- In itself- a quiet thing That may furnish the Fuse unto a Spark In dormant nature- lain- Let us divide- with skill- Let us discourse- with care- Powder exists in Charcoal- Before it exists in Fire-" - Emily Dickinson
Burn out. A word most of current culture relates to. Yet, we do not understand that our Gingerbread houses are spun out of what we also help create. Perhaps the initial ingredients are out of our hands, but the way we flourish our proverbial homes? We have some sway over the sugar and spice. Why would we choose to coat our doors in sticky ketchup (news outlets/ social media)? Why would we want our doors so stuck with information that we can barely open them up on our own? The home we make can become crumbled bits and pieces, when we try so hard to open the door we partially sealed with our own choices. We shake our own core. It can be tough to taste tantalizing sweet sugar underneath layers of tomato paste.
Let us discourse with care.
Evergreen. A word that expresses everlasting hope. A word that can sing beloved Christmas tunes or evoke the sparkling wonder that children are best at expressing."Welcome home," says the body that is nourished and grounded in BEING. The hand on the door, opening to a place of belonging and safety. The squished give of the mattress as it envelops at night. The light of a lamp reflecting the caring of friends, as the knots of isolation slowly become untied. The wreaths symbolizing the spiral of life. The cliches that bring us joy. The tiny, obscure miracles we forget to see, because we are too caught up in our cerebral worlds to honour the tangibleGiven.Yet, the breaks from ourselves are there, waiting to soothe our unbelief in the Beauty thatIS,patiently waiting to give a little cheer with the words, "Welcome home."
Story. What binds us and breaks us. What heals or destroys. The words we choose can bring hope or disaster. The story we tell, no matter how dark or bright, isOURS to give. The calm inside our chaos is a promise of All that Is."Sharing all our stories of our failures and our glories, even when our hopes got torn, We made it through the storm. And I couldn't ask for more. When I'm down, and I'm lost and I'm tired- When it feels like the whole world is on fire...Even when I feel like a mess, have to take a good look inside me Yes, In the hurts where I find the Holy I guess, I'll never be perfect but I try my best, to remember I'm blessed."- Kelly Clarkson
Charts. Can something so clinical be a balm? How does one reframe a moment? In emotion? In intellect? In spirit? In Body? One piece neglected takes from the whole. Can you smell joy? Can you feel a word? Can spiritbe rooted? Can a bodyconnectto other realms? Can we meet in the middle? ... A room that had housed a familiar mentor was now the territory of a complete stranger. Like clockwork, almost every month, for 16 years I had met a different set of eyes. Next to the seat was an emotions chart.* Inwardly I cringed. I dismissively thought, "Of course, he knows I have Aspergers Syndrome and gave me a feelings chart. Standard textbook." But I looked into his hope filled eyes that wished to help me, and I softened. I tried to be open. It wasn't his fault his eyes were new. As the session proceeded, that chart surprised, claimed, named and comforted. Feelings need direct expression without being in the driver's seat. They are the passengers of our voyages and as such need to be treated with care but not full control. Words are just words without intent or tone. But what if the tone is not the intent? It can get messy. Words are magic and pain. Language is our greatest weapon and healer. "I wrestled. But it wasn't with God; it was with the ideas that obscured him." Sarah Clarkson.
Sad: "Fatigued/ Tired. Miserable. Despair. heartbroken. Devastated. Discouraged, Disappointed. Hopeless. Pain and Hurt. Depressed. Grief and Sorrow. Unhappy." Joyful: "Delighted. Glad- Pleased. Elated. Thrilled. Enthusiastic. Passionate. Appreciation. Thankful. Grateful. Excited. Ecstatic. Happy." Gratitude partially counters sadness, but it is possible to hold both. BOTH/ AND"Do I contradict myself? Very well, I contradict myself. I am large. I contain multitudes."- Walt Whitman.
Snowfall. Flakes can be fluffy, gentle and comforting or a blizzard, sharp and dangerous. The Sparkling white magnifies other colours. Sometimes it blinds. Can you feel a memory? Can loss be amplified by surrounding rushes of joy? The fresh start of a blank canvas or the bleak ending of a previous season? Both/ And? Dancing with ghosts; a gift or a curse? Both/ And? The bough of the branch, heavy with snow, has it's own sort of knowing.
Rooted. Spirit working in the body. Nourishment below the surface. The re making power of love. There are no empty promises here.Rootsare the friends of wounded hearts. We become so much muchier when we can rise rooted. Stumble into the light of Grace. Close your eyes and feel the ground beneath your feet, your foundation of Being is here.
Wounded Healer. "We are not created for disaster nor formed for destruction, and to lament our pain is to honour the beauty God intended and yearn toward it's restoration....The point of our struggle is not to gain some sort of spiritual grit or prove our endurance. We are not asked to become grim warriors in the face of pain; We are asked to be children who will not rest until they know themselves cradled in the arms of a father who begot them for joy...toward hope...onward..."- Sarah Clarkson. The impacting, insightful leaders know that to be a healer, one has to first know what wounds feel like. Grief comes to us all. Each of us has different gifts to give, different ways to interpret, different faith stances, different stories. But we CANbecome wounded healers in the smaller sense of the words. "We would rather God be neatly culpable for the evil that comes upon us, would rather believe that cancer and infant death and abuse and tornadoes are explainable as necessary to the overarching story of the world, than face the kind of ancient, true drama in which God himself weeps at the sight of what he has made, now defiled and destroyed. We are afraid to sit in the wild presence of sorrow, allowing it to whisper to us..."- Sarah Clarkson. Perhaps sorrow is like the candy hearts on a Gingerbread home? Melted little red streaks on the pristine white snow. Grief should not be explained away or a segue into dissertations of hell. Grief is a broken state when God weeps too.
Grace. "When strivings Cease." Because we will never, even the best of us, feel like we are enough. Someone will be better. Someone will have more. Someone will outlast and outlive. You may feel broken, but that is not all thatIS you. Think of the lovely practice of filling broken tea cups with gold. The teacup doesn't fill itself. But it is a vessel for the golden glue to set. Isn't that a relief? With that knowing we can rest a bit...
Tis' The Season. Maybe it's Solstice or Eid or Hanukkah or Christmas or a Stat or just another day... December / January holds many holidays. "Happy Solstice" and "Merry Christmas" and "Happy Holidays" are words that I still can not help but pass onward. I give those I love enough credit to be able to translate the sentiment, even if they do not celebrate that particular holiday. I love the Community episodes remarking on the complexities and ridiculousness of all this. Yes, we want to give others a listening ear and respect, but we can also love what we love and be what we are. In that we become full enough to learn to hear what others love and whom they are. It's pure beauty- hearing different variations of holiday goodwill.
Cheers to Christmas tunes and the feelings of childhood they evoke. Music can transcend. "Come December I confess. I want the tree full of toys and tinsel....I want the elves in the yard, each sentimental card dripping glitter on the floor, I want a roof full of plywood reindeer and a road full of horse drawn sleighs. All those Christmas cliches... I want the gulp and the tear the moment that I hear Andy Williams being played...Not to mention the snow, not to mention the choir. Not to mention the candles in the window and chestnuts roasting on a fire...along a street bathed in twinkling white..as for the songs you hear over and over, I hope you look this one up when it plays, all those Christmas cliches."- Darren Criss
May your Gingerbread homes reflect not only whom you want to be, but whom you already are. May you make the changes you can and apply Grace to the rest. May you find peppermint bliss and spun clouds of respite amongst any grief you may carry. But most of all, may you know, you are worthy because you exist.
Happy Holidays.
P.S. Song Choice: Normally I don't upload private family videos on my blog but I thought my readers may enjoy a clip of our Gingerbread ridiculousness. Sometimes we send out cheesy home made videos to our friends and family. Recently we had two hours to use- thus we gathered some thrown together outfits and did a quick frolic through the song Sweet Gingerbread Man by Sammy Davis Jr. which was on the last Hawkeye episode (excellent Tv series thus far!) We were purposefully ridiculous as usual and we hope it brings you a smile…what do you think…does my husband look like David Hasselhoff with bronzer?? (His words NOT mine!) It was our only way to make a sweet gingerbread man with his halloween monk suit - ha ha. I uploaded the first minute of the video (with a few tweaks to those who already saw it.) I could not upload the full video here (I know you want more.) but the little morsel is enough to get the lyrics" All tasty and tan sweet gingerbread man" into your head. I dare you not to hum that one incessantly...just hopefully it doesn't beget the image of my husband in tights...You're welcome. Ha. Anyway, Enjoy the cheese! Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas to you. May you find some sweet moments of joy and wonder where it is possible...
The song I referenced at the end of my post is found below:
All those Christmas Cliches By Darren Criss ( I loved his new Crissmas album along with Kelly Clarkson's new Christmas record "When Christmas Comes Round again" has been on repeat in my house. How can I not feel like Christmas with the opening to her first song? Wowza. I did not realize what a power house voice she had! Songs 1- 4 &12 are my favourite!):
Kelly Clarkson Christmas Isn't Cancelled (Just You):
And for a slower song that had my eyes a little misty: Merry Christmas to the One I used to know- Kelly Clarkson:
I look up from my computer screen to see the toenail of the moon curving eastward, sitting slightly above the evergreen tree-line across from our home. The deep, dusky blue sky is darkening and twinkle lights from the Christmas tree are highlighted in the window against the sparkling crystals. I am torn between just staring at the window, and trying to write down my thoughts as they happen. So I alternate. Because each dusk is a soulful gift.
It is later in the year for us to put up our Christmas trees due to the events of the last month. Halloween decor is a staple all year in my home, but it mixes perfectly with Christmas and Yule for me. In our province, it usually is already snowing and quite cold, but this year, the season seems to sense that people need more time to be outside. My Spirit feels deep gratitude at the wild ways of nature. Ever surprising. Ever teaching.
November is my birthday month. Like the moon phases in the sky, I have had changing phases in my celebrations (or lack thereof.) I've had a fraught history with birthdays. I love gifts. Both expected and surprising...but I have struggled at being the center of expectation. But after almost 38 years, I have finally reframed my birthday. I view time as a cyclical spiral instead of a linear line. For some reason, I oddly did not apply my overall view to my birthdays. Instead I saw them as one more year behind, and another year trudging towards my inevitable aging and demise. How did I not untie my cares around an important event in the cycle? How did I not see, that my life seasons are cyclical too? The Wheel of the Year speaks to my soul. There is a welcome home in each mark of the season. Each season teaches, gives and begets another aspect of God breathed creation, the wildness of nature, and the pure gifts and hardships of unique time scapes.
Seasons reflect spirituality. Seasons are in friendships where the ebb and flow mimic the ocean tides. I see pictures of myself, in various forms, and I realize that forgetting to honour my seasons... Well, to phrase Bilbo Baggins, "It is no small thing to celebrate a life." AH LIFE! A life! Life, with it's northern lights and explosive volcanoes...beauty and destruction paired and part of the same universe. Complexity and simplicity. Joy and sorrow. We hold mini versions of these diverse landscapes inside our human shells. I am honoured to have this vessel of mine, for however long I do, it can be such a heartbreakingly beautiful world.
While northern lights are a stunning sky painting of awe, so is every sunrise and sunset. The light in my bedroom often will be sifting through my curtains as I wake, and at a certain time, a sun symbol on my wall lights up with the actual sunlight. I often will wait to start my day until I have had a few moments to contemplate on the peace filled symbol. My children say that too often they hear, "Hey guys look, look, look, it's the sun on the sun! It will only be there for a few more minutes. Enjoy it. Savour it." Most of the time they indulge me, sometimes they roll their eyes with a grin and mock me...either way I smile.
Going into this 38th cycle, I wanted to honour a few aspects which have incorporated into this new curve of the spiral:
1. My Professor Vader Bhaer.
I have never been a pet person nor have ever had an animal in my home. Yet now, every morning a black cat leaps on to my bed and purrs over my shoulder. Not only does he leave all my plants and decor alone, but he rubs up against my leg when the pellet litter needs a change, (so my house does not smell as much as I feared) and gives me ample alone time. He loves each of my kids, only meows in the morning if he notices one of us is not up yet (he meows at that door) but otherwise is not very vocal. He rolls into me, stomach up, when I am brushing him and it's adorable. I call him my sweetheart and baby. He is the pet I always hoped to have. He was one of the greatest gifts of my 37th year.
2. Country stuff
It's in my roots, my story, my genetics, and my heart. But some seasons I forget, neglect or am down right embarrassed of my down home roots. This time around, they have given my hope, fuelled inspiration, provided breaks of simple comfort, and given epic freedom. Plus, my guy is still so hot when he dresses up as a cowboy...which he also did when we were dating, just for me. He found a 450 dollar hat, with the label and name still in it, at the thrift store for ten dollars...and let me just say, he ROCKS it. We found boots at another thrift store a couple weeks later that fit him perfectly. Another few hundred dollars worth item marked down to 15 bucks! My house and our whole wardrobes are thrifted or gifted.
I may be a proud thrifter, moonstone wearing, symbol loving, glitter glam, candle lighting, lover of all things sparkly gal...but why limit myself to one genre of BEING?
3.) More hugs.
The tragic day my brother in law died, I was holding our kids, his kids and family so much, that the next day, when I lifted my arm in the way that happens with hugs, I realized it was a strained muscle. My eldest son teased,"It's called hugging mom. I know it's a foreign concept to you beyond our walls." And I realized maybe those muscles need more exercise. Perhaps hugs are not fully the sensory overload I once needed strong boundaries upon? I disliked people pulling me in to their zones, smells, and textures. Sometimes, I still am not prepared or feel the need for space...but I am finding myself pulling more people in to my space willingly, and taking it for the gift of sharing exchange that it is.
4. Sunday Soccer.
Ok, maybe I do not play...sometimes due to weather, I don't even show up as a spectator 'till it's almost over. But I can see the happenings from my window across the field and hear the shouts. I love the community of it. I love seeing normal life participating in team work. I am not a sports person by any means, but I appreciate that sports can bring people together, like many other activities I may not do (like trivia games.) Being a witness to a flexible type of sport, where it's not about competition as much as it community building, allowing the newbies to get the ball and learn, and encourage anyone to join, at any time, at any age...well, that is it's own magic.
5.) My kids jobs.
Honestly, we have been so blessed to find jobs that are safe, secure and within their giftings during this season. Plus, flexible in hours enough to also have school, drivers experience, and home time. This new spiral has been home to many layered phases that are built upon old growth patterns.
37 turns around the wheel. The dawn of 38 is around the next bend. I am grateful for it all. Of course, there are sprinkled memories I wish I could change a bit...but I wouldn't be whom I am today without those hardships...and this is not the perfection we ache for often. This is messy, gritty, painful, emotional yet simple, joyous, chaotically organized, euphoric, stately LIFE. My cup runneth over. Thank you dear World for so many Ace of cups moments. Thank you for the experiences which shape, destroy, protect, take and give. Thank you for shooting stars, grass stains, dandelions, twinkle lights, front porch sitting, Elvis singing, Kelly Clarkson Christmas new tuning, multiple Christmas decorating, mistake making, grace giving moments. Thank you that I do not have to earn love given freely, self improve for the sake of saving myself, or constantly prove I am worthy to exist. Although god knows, I fall into the trap of all the above regularly. But deep down, I know, at my core, that we are all worthy to exist, because here we are.
I'm just glad to be here.
P.S. In full transparency- I’m notoriously terrible at my actual birthday day. I mourn that I don’t know what I want to eat or do or whom I am this ONE day -every.single.year. Any other day and I know exactly what I want! This year I keep my own words in my heart ( and I meant every word ) but I did get my terrible period. I was found staring into a depressive void and suddenly realizing my children were surrounding me in a Little Women style ( that luckily my hubby captured below)
I may have laid on the ground in pain while my family piled blankets on me… and then my daughter joined first and tried to match my facial expressions with hers, which made me laugh a lot- and each of my precious life savers joined in the antics - and immediately my day was salvaged;
Good birthday news: remember Rasby? My thyroid nodule? For 8 years I’ve had to monitor it via ultrasound and finally it has shrunk enough to not warrant concern. I held off biopsies and such cuz I hate medical intervention if not absolutely necessary - and now I’m in the clear for malignancy ! I’m so thankful - the Specialist kept chuckling at me thanking him for some reason - but I’m happy. One less medical anomaly to worry about:) happy birthday to me.
Song Choice: St. Patricks Day- Darren Criss "Here comes the cold, break out the winter clothes and find a love to call your own. You. Into you. Your cheeks the shade of pink and the rest of you in powder blue. Who knows what will be, who knows what we'' bring, but I'll make you this guarantee. See, No way November will see our goodbye. When it comes to December, it's obvious why... Oh we should take a ride tonight around the town and look at all the beautiful houses. Something in the way the blue light on the black night can make you feel more. Everybody it seems to me, just wants to be just like you and me. If our always is all that we gave, then we someday take that away..."
