May 21. A momentous day. A day worth noting. Remarking. Celebrating.
A day like any other day, except, this day was 'the day'. Nine years ago today, at 9:14 am. This is the day it all ended and began again. This is the moment that changed, everything. Forever. This is the time when for one moment, time stopped.
And began...
...again.
and between the stopping and the beginning, in between the moments of time passing on, everything changed. Everything shifted.
In between the stopping and the beginning, the past began to unravel. The future began to turn. In a new direction. A different way. Another path.
It was on this morning, nine years ago today, that two police officers walked in and arrested the man who promised to love me, to never hurt me and then who set about hurting me in ways I never could imagine.
It was on this morning, nine years ago today, that life began again filled with the promise of all that I could be when I gave up believing that his abuse was all that I deserved.
I am blessed.
Nine years ago today at 9:14 am I received the miracle of my life.
Nine years ago today I was set free from his abuse. Free to live this one wild and precious life fully alive in the rapture of now.
Nine years ago today, I got my life back and life has never been the same.
I am remembering today. Not the bad times. The pain and sorrow.
No. I am remembering the joy, the freedom, the love I have experienced since that moment at 9:14 am when time stopped...
... and my life began again.
I am grateful.
I am blessed.
I am in Love.
Namaste.
Monday, May 21, 2012
Saturday, May 19, 2012
In the comfort of not moving
It is Saturday. A day of relaxation. Togetherness. Shopping. Errands. going to the market on our list of 'to do's'. Getting dinner ready to share with friends.
C.C. came home last night. He is still travelling back and forth from Saskatoon. Still organizing 'the move'.
But now, it's a move in the opposite direction. Where we had talked about my moving there, we've agreed it makes more sense for him to move his Head Office here, sooner, rather than later.
At least, that's the goal. That's the target, the destination, the view from here.
I am...
relieved.
I was willing, and able to go. Excited about a new adventure. Eager to be together again on a daily basis.
Not moving from here opens different doors, other possibilities.
It gives me time and space and opportunity to settle back into being present without worrying about clearing and packing and shuffling and setting up all over again. It gives me space to create anew. Rather than endings, I see beginnings.
Not moving, physically, gives me room to be okay with being here without feeling urged, or feeling like I must, make being there... okay.
It was a big decision, the decision to move.
It is not a 'big' decision to stay as much as a choice to simply not move. This is home. And for both of us, here is where we want our home to be.
I am...
relieved.
And on this cloudy, moody Saturday morning, I am at ease in this place where I sit at my desk in my office, looking out the window at a world of colour exploding with greenery and pink blossoms. Music plays softly, Olafur Arnalds -- Eulogy for Evolution. It is on my playlist of "Music to write by". Coffee cools in my mug, the motor of the pump in the fishtank hums softly. In the bedroom on the other side of the wall behind me, C.C. sleeps in our bed, Ellie, the wonder pooch, curled up on one side beside him, Marley the great cat on the other.
This is the beginning of my day. Soft, gentle feelings of being at home. Of being at ease and comfortable in my life.
I am grateful and content.
I am at ease.
How's your Saturday?
Here's a little Olafur Arnalds to immerse your day in comfort and grace.
C.C. came home last night. He is still travelling back and forth from Saskatoon. Still organizing 'the move'.
But now, it's a move in the opposite direction. Where we had talked about my moving there, we've agreed it makes more sense for him to move his Head Office here, sooner, rather than later.
At least, that's the goal. That's the target, the destination, the view from here.
I am...
relieved.
I was willing, and able to go. Excited about a new adventure. Eager to be together again on a daily basis.
Not moving from here opens different doors, other possibilities.
It gives me time and space and opportunity to settle back into being present without worrying about clearing and packing and shuffling and setting up all over again. It gives me space to create anew. Rather than endings, I see beginnings.
Not moving, physically, gives me room to be okay with being here without feeling urged, or feeling like I must, make being there... okay.
It was a big decision, the decision to move.
It is not a 'big' decision to stay as much as a choice to simply not move. This is home. And for both of us, here is where we want our home to be.
I am...
relieved.
And on this cloudy, moody Saturday morning, I am at ease in this place where I sit at my desk in my office, looking out the window at a world of colour exploding with greenery and pink blossoms. Music plays softly, Olafur Arnalds -- Eulogy for Evolution. It is on my playlist of "Music to write by". Coffee cools in my mug, the motor of the pump in the fishtank hums softly. In the bedroom on the other side of the wall behind me, C.C. sleeps in our bed, Ellie, the wonder pooch, curled up on one side beside him, Marley the great cat on the other.
This is the beginning of my day. Soft, gentle feelings of being at home. Of being at ease and comfortable in my life.
I am grateful and content.
I am at ease.
How's your Saturday?
Here's a little Olafur Arnalds to immerse your day in comfort and grace.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Summer of Peace Calgary 2012
It is time.
Time to awaken, to rise up, to celebrate.
Time to open our hearts, shift our minds and lift our spirits up!
It is time to put down arms without fearing for our lives and hold out our arms in love for every life on this planet called Earth.
It is time to move away from discord and unease into harmony and joy.
To move beyond self-righteousness into acceptance.
To let go of fearing our differences and embrace what makes our uniqueness in love.
To step beyond fear into the courage to act. In Peace.
It is time.
To think peace. Be peace. Know peace. In our hearts and minds, in our families and communities, in our cities and provinces, states and countries. It is time for peace in our world.
It is time.
We're making time for PEACE here in Calgary. June 22. We'll be pounding the drums. Feeling the beat and heeding the call of Peace.
Inspired by the brilliance of Kerry Parsons whose Centre for Inspired Living has helped thousands of people move beyond conflict, discord and unease into living within harmony, peace and joy, a team of co-creators has woven together a plan to unleash PEACE in Calgary.
"Drumming Up Peace!" will take place Friday, June 22 at 7pm at the Inglewood Community Centre as part of Calgary Community Drum Circles' Friday night meet-up. "Drumming Up Peace" will launch Summer of Peace Calgary 2012 -- with song and dance and drumming and a Declaration of Peace for all to sign and commit to.
Summer of Peace Calgary 2012 is a grassroots movement embedded in the global SHIFT Network that, along with Barbara Marx Hubbard and other evolutionary leaders, is preparing for Birth 2012 -- the conscious evolution of our human species that will unleash our natural creative potential to live cooperatively with peace, sustainability, health and prosperity.
And we're excited.
Peace is possible.
Peace is necessary.
Peace is in the air and our hearts!
Peace is within all of us to give, to make, to extend, to hold onto and hold out.
It only takes one act, one choice, one decision to give peace a chance.
It only takes one move, one shift, one action to set in motion a ripple of peace throughout the world.
What's your ripple?
Will you be an agent of peace?
Will you make your difference be counted in moments of strife, or will you make your difference count in moments of joy?
Will you put down anger to take up harmony?
Will you let go of fear to embrace change?
Will you be a peace destroyer or, a Peace Builder?
We can all make a difference in how we create peace in our lives. Moment by moment we can choose to build every action we take upon our conscious decision to Choose Peace.
Peace is possible when we let go of believing it's impossible.
Peace begins now when we let go of believing it will happen at some distant time when the stars and planets align to make room for peace.
There is room for peace in all our hearts. There is a place for peace, everywhere in the world.
It is time. To make peace, right here, right now.
It is time to shift our planet out of the way of war and turbulence and self-destruction.
It is time to make peace, today, so that we can create harmony for our world tomorrow.
It is time.
Will you act in peace today?
Will you raise your consciousness up to become aware of every step, every word, every action you take and it's ability to destroy, or create peace, love and harmony in your world?
You can. I can. We can. Make peace happen. Now.
Let's do it!
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Happy Mother's Day! (repost from A Year...)
It is Mother's Day. A time to celebrate. A time to give thanks. A time to say, I love you mom.
I was the final note in a quartet of children. The 'baby' of the family, I had my way. I was spoiled, rotten, my siblings would tell you. My mother despaired for me. "How will you ever get by in life if you always do it your way?" she would ask. "Why can't you just listen to me?" she would plead. "Why can't you be like the others?"
My mother and I often fought. We argued about hair and make-up, the shortness of my skirts, the length and colour of my fingernails. We disagreed on most things from the boys I liked to the dreams I held dear. We saw the world through different eyes, from how safe it was, to how beautiful it is. We seldom saw the same colour. She saw blue. I saw cerulean. She saw red. I saw crimson. We seldom heard the same song. She heard a lark singing. I heard an eagle calling.
When I was a little girl, I remember my mother fussing with my hair, straightening my blouse, insisting I dress the same as my older by 2 and a half years sister. I didn't want to dress the same. I didn't care if my blouse was straight. I just wanted to get on with life. To get out into the world and explore. And my mother feared for me.
I used to think it was because she didn't trust me. Didn't believe I knew how to be, out there, out beyond the ties that bound me to the umbilical cord of her love. I thought she didn't want me to grow, to achieve, to become all I wanted to be.
It wasn't until I became a mother that I understood. It wasn't until I struggled to achieve my impossible dream of being there for my daughters in every way they needed me that I saw the truth. It wasn't because my mother didn't trust me or love me that she worried about me so. It was because she never wanted me to be hurt. She never wanted me to fall down. She never wanted me to know the pain she felt, out there, in the world.
My mother wanted to keep me safe. Always. And in her fear she could not hold me forever in her arms, in her fear she would not be able to stop the inevitability of my falls, she knew she had to let me go so that I could fly free. And she did.
Motherhood is an act of courage. Of faith. Of letting go when all you want to do is hold on as tightly as you can to the one you love.
I had no intention of becoming a mother. In fact, according to the doctors, after two ruptured ectopic pregnancies, it wasn't supposed to be physically possible. And then, the miracle of Alexis arrived and eighteen months later, Liseanne followed along, a laughing, squirming bundle of joy and life became a never-ending story of Love. In Love, life unfolded in wonder with every breath they took and every moment of their lives that took my breath away.
I am grateful to my mother. She taught me well to love and let go. To be and let become.
My mother is almost 90 now. Frail. Delicate. A tiny sparrow of a woman, my mother still hears larks singing. She still sees the beauty of a red sunset and she still knows the gifts of love. Her life has not been easy. She has lost her husband and her only son, been distanced from two of her granddaughters through the grief that followed. My mother sits quietly now. She no longer fights back. She no longer cries out for me to 'be careful', 'slow down'. She no longer cautions me to be like the others, to stop doing it my way, to quit making waves.
And now, despite our differences, despite the distance between our perspectives, my mother and I share the same heart. It is kind and caring, soft and gentle. My heart is founded in my mother's love, and I am grateful. For in her heart I have learned to give and receive. In her ways, I have embraced the joy of being kind and caring, soft and gentle. In her love, I have discovered what it means to be a mother.
A mother loves the tiny seed within her womb, nurturing the possibility of life with all her being. A mother gives birth to a child's dreams and schemes, breathing as her child breathes, crying as her child cries, falling as her child falls. A mother watches over her child, holding on with all her heart to their dreams of flight, fearing with all her being the inevitability of their falling, and letting go of holding on in the certainty of their flying free.
In the constant presence of my mother's love, I have learned to fly free, learned to soar high knowing, no matter where I go, my mother's heart will always be the tie that binds me back into the circle of love that connects us.
Mothers are the difference in a world of Love. Happy Mother's Day!
Without our mothers, the Circle Game would never unfold. Enjoy one of my favourite songs-- Joni Mitchell's Circle Game.
I was the final note in a quartet of children. The 'baby' of the family, I had my way. I was spoiled, rotten, my siblings would tell you. My mother despaired for me. "How will you ever get by in life if you always do it your way?" she would ask. "Why can't you just listen to me?" she would plead. "Why can't you be like the others?"
My mother and I often fought. We argued about hair and make-up, the shortness of my skirts, the length and colour of my fingernails. We disagreed on most things from the boys I liked to the dreams I held dear. We saw the world through different eyes, from how safe it was, to how beautiful it is. We seldom saw the same colour. She saw blue. I saw cerulean. She saw red. I saw crimson. We seldom heard the same song. She heard a lark singing. I heard an eagle calling.
When I was a little girl, I remember my mother fussing with my hair, straightening my blouse, insisting I dress the same as my older by 2 and a half years sister. I didn't want to dress the same. I didn't care if my blouse was straight. I just wanted to get on with life. To get out into the world and explore. And my mother feared for me.
I used to think it was because she didn't trust me. Didn't believe I knew how to be, out there, out beyond the ties that bound me to the umbilical cord of her love. I thought she didn't want me to grow, to achieve, to become all I wanted to be.
It wasn't until I became a mother that I understood. It wasn't until I struggled to achieve my impossible dream of being there for my daughters in every way they needed me that I saw the truth. It wasn't because my mother didn't trust me or love me that she worried about me so. It was because she never wanted me to be hurt. She never wanted me to fall down. She never wanted me to know the pain she felt, out there, in the world.
My mother wanted to keep me safe. Always. And in her fear she could not hold me forever in her arms, in her fear she would not be able to stop the inevitability of my falls, she knew she had to let me go so that I could fly free. And she did.
Motherhood is an act of courage. Of faith. Of letting go when all you want to do is hold on as tightly as you can to the one you love.
I had no intention of becoming a mother. In fact, according to the doctors, after two ruptured ectopic pregnancies, it wasn't supposed to be physically possible. And then, the miracle of Alexis arrived and eighteen months later, Liseanne followed along, a laughing, squirming bundle of joy and life became a never-ending story of Love. In Love, life unfolded in wonder with every breath they took and every moment of their lives that took my breath away.
I am grateful to my mother. She taught me well to love and let go. To be and let become.
My mother is almost 90 now. Frail. Delicate. A tiny sparrow of a woman, my mother still hears larks singing. She still sees the beauty of a red sunset and she still knows the gifts of love. Her life has not been easy. She has lost her husband and her only son, been distanced from two of her granddaughters through the grief that followed. My mother sits quietly now. She no longer fights back. She no longer cries out for me to 'be careful', 'slow down'. She no longer cautions me to be like the others, to stop doing it my way, to quit making waves.
And now, despite our differences, despite the distance between our perspectives, my mother and I share the same heart. It is kind and caring, soft and gentle. My heart is founded in my mother's love, and I am grateful. For in her heart I have learned to give and receive. In her ways, I have embraced the joy of being kind and caring, soft and gentle. In her love, I have discovered what it means to be a mother.
A mother loves the tiny seed within her womb, nurturing the possibility of life with all her being. A mother gives birth to a child's dreams and schemes, breathing as her child breathes, crying as her child cries, falling as her child falls. A mother watches over her child, holding on with all her heart to their dreams of flight, fearing with all her being the inevitability of their falling, and letting go of holding on in the certainty of their flying free.
In the constant presence of my mother's love, I have learned to fly free, learned to soar high knowing, no matter where I go, my mother's heart will always be the tie that binds me back into the circle of love that connects us.
Mothers are the difference in a world of Love. Happy Mother's Day!
Without our mothers, the Circle Game would never unfold. Enjoy one of my favourite songs-- Joni Mitchell's Circle Game.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Judgments hurt
Something has changed in how blogger notifies me of comments, and I keep finding comments in my notifications that I thought I'd approved but somehow didn't get posted! My apologies if I seem to be ignoring comments. It's more that I am slow to adapt to Blogger's new ways of doing what they've always done and suddenly changed!
Which, is what got me thinking about inner-speak. When I discovered this morning that there were several comments not posted that I had thought I had posted, my inner voice got busy.
"How rude, Louise."
"Seriously, you are such an.... idiot, fool, incompetent... Pick your favourite word, my inner-judge likes to pick many.
The affirmation for the week in an online "Soul Coaching" course I am taking is, "My evaluation of myself is not who I am."
Hmmm.... it's not?
You mean, I'm not really who my inner critic tells me I am?
That's right! You're not your judgments!
Hallelujah!
Being self-critical does not serve me well. Judging myself as a loser, incompetent, or any host of negative feedback the critic likes to deliver, does not strengthen, nourish or nurture me.
In any self-assessment there is that place where absolute honesty is essential to growth and healing.It feels at times like an oxymoron. Be honest. Be kind. -- what if in my honesty I find myself lacking? Is it kind to point out my areas of lack if I'm being honest?
Don't judge how you judge myself.
When I know I've acted out, being kind means that in my honesty I must name what I've done. It does not mean I have to name myself as less than, or other than, who I am as a human being.
Behaviour and my human essence are separate. Behaviour can be changed, worked on, modified. My human essence is fundamentally 'good'. It is light. It is beauty. It is life.
Where I am in my life is not as important as the judgments I make about where I am, or how I am in my life.
Judgments hurt. Me. Those I judge outside of me. The world around me.
Judgments limit my experience of being all I am meant to to, all I am when I let go of judging how I'm doing and moving into accepting that in this moment, I am doing my best.
When I honour my intention -- to be a kind, caring, loving human being -- and accept that sometimes, my actions turn up on the dark side of the curtain -- I love myself in all my complexity, light and dark, yin and yang, beauty and the beast, shadow. When I let go of judging myself, I step into the sea of healing that is all around me.
I discovered I missed posting some comments on my blog this morning. I didn't intend to miss them. My intention is that I honour the people who connect with me here.
And I do.
My commitment is to continue to do my best, to figure out how to work with Blogger's new way, and to continue to honour those who share their thoughts by posting and commenting and engaging in the conversation.
Thank you everyone who posts a comment. Thank you everyone who reads. I appreciate your presence and your light on my journey.
Namaste.
Which, is what got me thinking about inner-speak. When I discovered this morning that there were several comments not posted that I had thought I had posted, my inner voice got busy.
"How rude, Louise."
"Seriously, you are such an.... idiot, fool, incompetent... Pick your favourite word, my inner-judge likes to pick many.
The affirmation for the week in an online "Soul Coaching" course I am taking is, "My evaluation of myself is not who I am."
Hmmm.... it's not?
You mean, I'm not really who my inner critic tells me I am?
That's right! You're not your judgments!
Hallelujah!
Being self-critical does not serve me well. Judging myself as a loser, incompetent, or any host of negative feedback the critic likes to deliver, does not strengthen, nourish or nurture me.
In any self-assessment there is that place where absolute honesty is essential to growth and healing.It feels at times like an oxymoron. Be honest. Be kind. -- what if in my honesty I find myself lacking? Is it kind to point out my areas of lack if I'm being honest?
Don't judge how you judge myself.
When I know I've acted out, being kind means that in my honesty I must name what I've done. It does not mean I have to name myself as less than, or other than, who I am as a human being.
Behaviour and my human essence are separate. Behaviour can be changed, worked on, modified. My human essence is fundamentally 'good'. It is light. It is beauty. It is life.
Where I am in my life is not as important as the judgments I make about where I am, or how I am in my life.
Judgments hurt. Me. Those I judge outside of me. The world around me.
Judgments limit my experience of being all I am meant to to, all I am when I let go of judging how I'm doing and moving into accepting that in this moment, I am doing my best.
When I honour my intention -- to be a kind, caring, loving human being -- and accept that sometimes, my actions turn up on the dark side of the curtain -- I love myself in all my complexity, light and dark, yin and yang, beauty and the beast, shadow. When I let go of judging myself, I step into the sea of healing that is all around me.
I discovered I missed posting some comments on my blog this morning. I didn't intend to miss them. My intention is that I honour the people who connect with me here.
And I do.
My commitment is to continue to do my best, to figure out how to work with Blogger's new way, and to continue to honour those who share their thoughts by posting and commenting and engaging in the conversation.
Thank you everyone who posts a comment. Thank you everyone who reads. I appreciate your presence and your light on my journey.
Namaste.
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Spinning through time and space. I beat the drum.
 |
| Yesterday's walk. Before the snow. |
It was an amazing two hours of rhythm and beat. Of people joined in a circle creating music that lifted spirits and soothed souls.
It was fabulous!
I have participated in a couple of drum circles before, but never one this large. Over 100 people, ranging in age from below 5 to over 65, were gathered in the community centre in Inglewood, a round building with a tee-pee like roof. "This is Blackfoot land" a woman beside me whispered. "It's sacred."
And I felt it. The sacred nature of the space and the drumming and the people gathered together. Just as I feel it every Wednesday night at meditation with my group. The sacred connection to all that is alive and beautiful and wondrous and Divine about our spiritual essence living out our human presence on this planet called Earth, spinning through time and space, believing all that is, is us, here on earth, spinning through time and space.
Last night, as I sat in the drum circle and closed my eyes and just listened to the beat of the drums, I felt the spinning stop. I felt time and space fall away as I settled into me, into being present, in the moment, right there, right then.
 |
| Ripples of Peace |
It can be challenging in this busy, gotta get it done, get to it, get at 'er world to find that moment of present being, that space where 'the stuff' falls away and we become one with the One, one in the moment of being, here, right now, exactly the way we are, exactly as we are in being here.
I felt it last night. I breathed into it, lived it, embraced it and let it become me and me it. And in my being, it, I knew that this world, this life, this moment is all there is, all I need to be alive and well and living on earth.
I beat the drum last night and in the pounding of my heart, I felt the rhythm of my soul calling me to be at peace, to be at One with being right here, right now where all is well.
This morning, snow falls -- yes, it is May 5 and snow is falling. Ellie sleeps on the floor behind me, C.C. sleeps in our bed a cat on each side (my daughter's cat is visiting). Snow falls in big white fluffy flakes, wet and heavy, it clings to the boughs of the fir tree outside my window. And here, inside, I am warm. I am complete. I am surrounded by love. Peace fills my heart. Joy lifts my spirits. And, harmony fills my soul with eternal bliss.
I beat the drum last night and the beat continues to resonate in my being this morning as I watch snow falling to the ground in the sacred nature of this moment, right now, where I am and all is well.
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