When It Rains...

Hello again friends, I hope you’ve been well.

The last couple of months have been kind of overwhelming, and not in a bad way. It’s been the kind of overwhelming that pushed me to the edge of emotion, good and bad, enough to leave me grateful for my life at every turn.

At the end of April I began a temporary ‘enhanced placement’ at work. For two months I enjoyed new challenges, the opportunity to grow and the privilege of working in collaboration with great and generous people. I was more tired than usual, working a challenging and hectic 8 hour, 5 day work week while managing to provide most of the care for our son and doghter while my husband worked extremely long days. A feat not uncommon to many hardworking women, and certainly one I was pleased to experience. It was exciting, fulfilling, illuminating. And then it was done.

In the middle of this I took part in the Relay for Life. I was happy to have the opportunity to do my part to support efforts to squash the enemy disease and honour the memory and valiant struggles of so many survivors and victims, including my father-in-law. The night of the Relay I found myself yawning repeatedly, uncontrollably, while chatting with a friend. It took me a few days to realize why - I wasn’t overly tired at that point, it was still early. After some introspection I realized I had been trying desperately to choke back tears, or rather throat aching sobbing. Sure, I was feeling sad about the devastation cancer has indiscriminately delivered to so many good people, but the instinct to purge was coming from a place more complicated. I felt lucky that as a female I had been instructed over my lifetime by a variety of influences that crying is a legitimate way to let go, to empty myself out. I needed to flush out my emotional banks which were stuffed with things that had been piling up for months, and I knew that only tears could provide that kind of cleansing.

In the last two years I have been gratefully overwhelmed by so many things from the torturous birthing of my boy, the unparalleled jubilation of finally meeting him, the damage done to my body, the transition of my husband and myself to dad and mama, the desperation of sleeplessness, the beauty of watching and fostering the growth and development of a vessel of pure instinct and wonder, my reluctant release of him to another caregiver as I returned to work and the rollercoaster ride my job had become. I needed to flush out the excesses of joy, pain, growth and disappointment that had accumulated in my heart stretching back perhaps even as far as before my son was born.

I continued to put the tears off and felt pretty low for a few days, though I believe some of my resolve was lost in the sleeplessness of a home filled with my sick and coughing family – even my dog had kennel cough! Then one day I finally had a rare moment to myself, my son was in bed, my husband was at work, and the movie Marley and Me was on TV. I had read the book and seen the movie already and knew what I was in for, so I kept watching, waiting for the permission I couldn’t give myself. And then I cried. I wept. I sobbed. Then I stopped. I felt pretty good. I had found some peace at last. Time passed and my smile returned with my generally positive resolve.

Two weeks ago my neighbours’ son died. I did not know him, though we met a couple of times. I continued to cry. I saw pictures of him as a boy and could not help but think of my own boy, my own family. I can feel my neighbours’ pain now in a way I could not two years ago.

It occurred to me a while back, after I had my son, that maybe my emotional being had been broken somehow by all of the hormones involved in being pregnant. It seemed that my emotions were stuck in overdrive, on intense mode. Not necessarily over-reactive, but undeniable. I’ve been pretty good at keeping myself emotionally ‘in check’ for most of my life. I guess what I’ve come to realize now is that as much as I always thought I was, I’m just more tuned in now to the rest of the world, to my own feelings, to the experiences and feelings of others. In some ways it’s a more exhausting place to be, but mostly I feel like I’m looking around with clarity and connection, with new eyes, with better vision. I am grateful.

The photo above features my hula hoop loving vessel of instinct and wonder.

Take care my friends:)

Refreshed, Refilled and Ready

Hello my dearies, I hope you are well.

I spent part of the last week with some very special women in a scenario I could not have anticipated, had little to do with organizing yet benefited greatly from. During our time together we spent a day with a speaker who emphasized repeatedly that we do in fact influence all of the things we experience and attract into our lives. Interesting.

For the most part I fully accepted and agreed with the points of our lovely guest speaker. I believe in positivity. I believe we are all connected, that we can and do influence and impact each other continually, often without conscious effort. I understand the value of gratitude and determination. I believe that we can evolve, become more enlightened and foster that growth in others. I believe what my limited understanding tells me of quantum physics, energy transfer and cause and effect.

My mental snag lies with the ‘law of attraction.’ This concept has been a point of contention for me for a few reasons, exacerbated more recently by the very commercialized “Secret” movement. I won’t even get started on how cleverly obnoxious I find the idea of selling self-actualization as a packaged, purchasable item. I’m not so sure that this is what Newton had in mind with his law of universal gravitation, or Einstein with his subsequent theory of general relativity. I’m pretty sure Freud too would scoff at the idea of separating the practice of thinking from the act of doing.

Again, believe me when I say I believe in the power of positive thinking. It is in broadening the argument around this concept that I believe we run into some seriously murky territory.

Proponents of the ‘law of attraction’ suggest that we can attain what we want and/or cure ourselves of whatever ails us through thought and willpower alone. So, are we then saying that we can ensure ourselves the best parking spot or cure depression, cancer and degenerative bone disorders with our thoughts? Should a terminally ill patient forgo any medical interventions, accept that their bad attitude got them there in the first place and simply ‘buck up’ to save themselves? Can a person with a developmental disability will themselves out of poverty and marginalization?

Do people really 'will' or 'think' themselves into physical states of disease? Perhaps, if we acknowledge the generally debilitating effects of stress on the body... but does anyone really will themselves to break a leg or acquire ovarian cancer? Using the same logic, can’t we then argue that a woman who is raped somehow willed it to happen, or that the victims of drunk drivers subconsciously ask to be maimed or killed?

I guess at the end of the day, I feel that when reflecting on or dealing with the things in life that sometimes just plain suck, reliance on the ‘law of attraction’ as an explanation or solution for life circumstances can lead to blaming victims and denying other valid responses or courses of action. My world is just not so black and white.

So, did I subconsciously will the events of the last week to enter my life? I don’t know. What makes more sense to me is that I allowed myself to be open to the possibilities that led to these events and while in the midst kept an open, positive attitude about what I encountered. Maybe in some way this is the very point our guest speaker was making. Either way, I am grateful for the experience and from it feel more refreshed, refilled and ready than I have in a while.

The starfish in the picture above were some of the wonders I encountered while away.

Much love to you.

I'm Back! Again!

Hi my friends, I hope all is well and you have had goodness abound in your lives since my last post... almost an entire year ago! Sheesh! What the heck? Well I've been thinking about it - my nantanaran hiatus - as I took mental steps toward reestablishing, reconnecting, plugging back in.

So, it turns out that when having a baby the first few months are actually the easiest - and yeah, I had a really complicated delivery followed by other relatively minor but ongoing complications with my sweet boy. Regardless of how most little people begin they just get busier and busier as the days go by... and thankfully so! With less and less time for the occasional post here or any of the other little things I wished to do to hang on to "me time" (like keep my eyes open long enough after his bedtime to read a book, paint or catch up with girlfriends) I was, and am always aware that the busyness is good. My boy is curious, investigative, smart, brave and active. For that I am grateful.

That being said, I have been very busy, followed by very tired, coupled with an underlying awareness that I have been pretending and by doing so undermining my own creative efforts and our relationship, the one between you and me, my dear friend and reader. Pretending how? Well, in the same way I do, often, to keep the peace and save face.

When I was a kid I spent some time with the family of a dear auntie of mine. While there I was inadvertently videotaped goofing around in the midst of some kind of family get together. When we sat around to watch the tape later in the week I was somewhat embarrassed by my antics but for some reason completely stunned and mortified by the way I could see people react to me. According to my young and sensitive eye my little silly self was met with distaste.

As a conscious, evolving and self-analyzing adult I can now see that my view was lopsided and really I’d just love to go back and hug my wee self, tell me I am actually pretty cool and don’t need to worry about making up imaginary oppressive opinions to smack myself down with. BUT, the reality is that moment became a pivotal point in my understanding and realization of myself.

Don’t get me wrong folks. I am a strong person with a very individual and particular take on things. You know this if you know me well. My point is that from that day forward I spent much time and energy trying to maintain ‘face,’ trying to protect myself from the pain of judgment and rejection. I have tried too often to please others by in the very least, not offending them.

And this is where I swing this convoluted ramble back to its origin. Though the foundations of my efforts are honest they are almost always skewed by my now nearly subconscious acts of political correctness, my unrealistic and impossible desire to appease everyone, or at least offend no one. My busyness and tiredness coupled by my dishonesty led me to feel disillusioned about communicating with you. I was trying so hard to be polite, I was not being me. SO, my intention at this point is to offer you the most honest version of me I can. Plain and simple, though, for my mother’s sake, I will continue to make effort to curb my sailor’s tongue.

On that note, the picture above is a reflection of how I’m feeling this evening as I watch the election results roll in. But that, my friends, is a discussion for another day.

Much love to you:)