Harmony and peace in Christmas decorating

Last night my daughters and I invited Christmas into our home. It could have been a disaster -- fortunately it wasn't.

There are times when I simply do not feel like being reasonable. The beginning of the process last night was one of them.

The boxes from Christmas are all downstairs. I think it's rankled me all year that they were in a disorderly mess. I was away last January when the girls decided to do something really nice, and pack away the Christmas treasures while I was gone. It was a treat to come home after 10 days away and not have to face the prospect of putting away Christmas. But.... they hadn't really payed close attention to how the items were packed up, and how they were stored in the basement. At the time, I chose to simply appreciate the thought and effort that went into their gift and thanked them for having done something so helpful.

But.... the mess.

It rankled. It burred. It was always there. Now, I'm sure I could have waded through the chaos and created reason out of it, but I had a better reason for leaving it as it was -- I was being stubborn. Plus -- I truly was appreciative of the fact the girls had pitched in and willingly, lovingly put everything away. I didn't want to discourage them from doing it again. Why complain about how they did it? I was grateful for the fact they had done it!

Unfortunately, I let the grating irritation of not having it done my way fester. Last night, it broke through like acid breaking through the vessel that contains it.

Liseanne was busy finishing off an essay for school so Alexis said she'd help me bring everything up. She carried one load up and disappeared. I hadn't realized she was gone until I was three-quarters through carrying everything upstairs. When asked what happened, she replied, "Oh. I forgot I had to make my phone calls."

Hello? Phone calls? What about the boxes?

I kept bringing the gear up and by the end was royally ticked off that she wasn't helping.

Now, I am not known for blowing up. It's not my habit. Not my nature. I'm actually trying to teach myself to express anger in the moment as expressing anger is something I don't do well -- except through silence and withdrawal. So, I thought I'd tell her about how I was feeling. The part of expressing anger I forgot about was the how to do it appropriately. In my haste to get it out and over with, I dumped the final box on the kitchen floor, strode into Alexis' bedroom and began to berate her with my ire.

"I am very angry," I said, my hands on my hips, feet spread apart, chin jutting out. "You said you would help and then disappeared. That wasn't fair."

"I had to make my phone calls to my group from Choices," she replied defensively. "You know that's important."

Now, I hate it when someone takes my righteous anger and douses it with their righteous cause. Never having been adept at expressing anger, or even acknowledging I feel it for that matter, I feel like their excuse means I don't have the right to be angry and thus need to back down.

I wasn't into backing down last night so I forged ahead, heals kicking up as my high horse took off across treacherous ground.

"I don't think that's a good enough excuse. You said you'd help. Where were you?"

"You could have waited for me to finish my calls before bringing up the boxes," my daughter responded. "You were just being stubborn and trying to prove a point."

I was?

Oh. Well, maybe. Possibly.

And that's the challenge with anger and I'm right, You're wrong thinking.

I was right to be annoyed. She had said she'd help and disappeared without a word.

She was right to be defensive. I was over the top in my expression of my anger with her behaviour. And, she had simply become fixated on her need to make the calls and gotten side-tracked with the urgency of her mission to connect with her group from Choices training.

Doesn't make either of us right in how we acted. She resorted to tears and crying. I resorted to hands on hips, riding my high horse with abandon posturing.

In the end, sobriety prevailed. We hugged and made up and the evening carried on filled with love and laughter.

But, in reflecting on the events, I realized how my ire about the mess in the basement had corroded my thinking for almost a year. It had eaten away at my peace of mind.

My anger wasn't all about Alexis' behaviour last night. It was about my not accepting the gift of my daughters help last year -- and letting go of my need to have it done my way. I paid lip service to my acceptance -- and did nothing about cleaning up the mess.

It is my responsibility to clean up my mess -- and if I needed them to pitch in to do the job 'properly', I needed to be clear in my message.

Because I let the issue fester for a year, I acted out my frustration last night. My unconscious overrode my conscious need to have a beautiful, happy, loving experience with my daughters as we spent the evening decorating our home.

For all of us, this is an important event. Alexis had specifically booked time off work so we could do it together. Liseanne has exams all next week and asked if we could do it now so her studies wouldn't interfere. And me -- well both girls know Christmas doesn't enter our home until after my birthday! Because I wanted us to do it together, I let my birthday position ease into Christmas the first week of December.

Had I stayed conscious of what I wanted, I would not have flown so quickly into anger and could instead have settled into what Stephen Covey calls, 'the third alternative'. What was the win/win I could have created?

I could have taken a breath. Got out of my head and into my heart and recognized that I was being stubborn. I could have spent the time in the basement sorting through the boxes and consciously pressed my rankled thinking into harmony and peace by focusing on the gift my daughters gave me last year and what a gift it is to be able to do this together. I could have waited until Alexis was finished with her phone calls and Liseanne had her essay completed. And, I could have accepted the fact Alexis didn't intentionally disappear -- she truly did forget because she has a habit of becoming distracted in the midst of whatever she's doing. I could have made different choices. Whether or not I chose to be annoyed -- I never had the right to be so over the top in my assertion I deserved to express my anger in the way I did.

The question is: Where do you not take responsibility for how you express your anger? Where do you choose discord over your desire to create harmony and peace?

What's your choice?

Last night I had to meet with some community leaders at one of two satellite shelters we run for homeless men. One of the clients, as he walked passed our group where we huddled out of the way of the sign-in desk, stopped to say hello.

"Thanks for coming in to see us," he said. "This shelter is Calgary's answer to affordable housing. I can afford $200 to $300 a month. But there's nothing to rent in that range in Calgary so this is what I get. It's okay, though I'd sure like my own place better."

There's that perspective thing again. I'd never thought of the satellite shelter, or any shelter for that matter, from that particular point of view.

I chatted with a man at the main shelter before I left earlier in the day. "It's not that bad," he said. "I suffer from severe depression. I need a safe place and can't afford anything in Calgary right now. At least I've got this place to stay until I can get back on my feet."

Gratitude in the face of adversity.

Pretty awesome.

It's easy to lose perspective when surrounded by the darkness. It's easy to become negative when the world around you continually reminds you of what a loser you are to be homeless, out of work, down on your luck, addicted, or mentally ill.

One of the artists said to a photographer who had come in to take some photos of his art work the other day that he would never have begun to express himself artistically again if it hadn't been for the shelter and the art program. "What art lets me do is surround myself with beauty," he said. "Chief Dan George once said that it's hard to find the beauty within if around you the world is constantly showing you how ugly you are. When you're homeless, being told you're ugly is a constant litany thrown at you by the outside world, as well as inside you. When I paint, I dip myself into a beautiful space and push away the ugliness around me."

Pretty profound.

Every day there is ugliness in the world. Everyday I have the opportunity to change my perspective. To dip myself into the beautiful space within me and touch the well of my creative spirit. Every day I have the choice of painting a vibrant rainbow coloured world, or a world of foreboding darkness. I can pull beautiful threads of vibrant colour from within me into my tapestry of life. Or I can weave in the doom and gloom of the world around me.

The choice is mine.

I can take the good with the bad and make it a full meal deal. Or, I can spit out the good as I choke on the bad filling me up.

The question is: What's your choice? To fill yourself up on a healthy perspective of life is bountiful, my possibilities are limitless. Or, life is a daily grind of same old, same old filled up with the pessimism of believing, nothing ever changes? What's your choice?

What's your perspective?

Busy times.

Snow flies, settles to the ground. Time flies faster, in every direction away from right now. Within a blink of the eye, it's gone, into the next time, next moment.

I wonder some days where it's gone and then don't have the time to wonder as I fill the moment with what needs to be done, must be accomplished, has to be completed within a given time frame.

Time. Like the limit on my credit card, the closer I get to the deadline, the faster it appears to go.

Perhaps time is on my mind because this Sunday is my birthday. Where did the time go? I look at my daughters at 19 and 21 and wonder how could they be so mature? They didn't arrive on the scene of my life all that long ago. Where did the years fly?

And still time passes. And with it, all hope of getting the moments spent back. Must spend them wisely. Must fill them with the joy of living fearlessly.

Somedays, time is the prison I wear when I limit the expression of my magnificence, my bounty. My world becomes the prison of my perceptions.

When I perceive that I do not have enough time to accomplish all I want - it is my choice to cut back, pare back, realign my perceptions to be less chocker block full of 'must do's' and more filled with want to do's.

My choice how I spend my time.

Today, I was feeling stressed. So much to do. So little time to do it in.

Is that true? Or am I lying to myself by telling myself I have to do it all.

My choice.

Today, I choose to sit back, breathe and relax. Today I take the pressure off and move into that time where the possibilities are limitless and I am inhibited only by my imagination. My point of view determines my outcome. If I take a negative perspective of time, there will never be enough time to change.

In turning around and finding the positive perspective I see a whole new point of view where I can fill my time with meaningful work that makes a difference in my world today.

My time. My choice. My perspective.

The question is: What perceptions do you need to leave behind as time closes in on the end of this year? What do you need to change to shift your perspective from the negative value of not enough to the positive perspective of limitless possibility?

Be back later

Hi! I'm off to a 6:30 am meeting --UGH!

And I'm late.

Be back later this morning.

L

Fear of turning up

Yesterday we held an art show with clients from the shelter where I work. I started the program a year ago and it has had some success helping clients find their creative spirit and to recognize that they can change their lives if they express themselves in a different way.

One of the clients, M., has turned up regularly -- he's incredibly talented but alcohol has taken a toll on his life. He has been working steadily for the past few months getting his art ready for the show. On Saturday when I saw him in the art space busily finishing off one piece, he was excited about the show. Yesterday, he didn't turn up. "I've got the flu," he said, momentarily lifting his head from the table where he rested it. "I'm not coming."

One of his friends, R., who also had works in the show was angry. "I love the guy," he said. "But right now I'm really angry with him. He's not sick. He's drunk."

The show was held in a church that supports the art program . We had about fifty pieces of art to transport to the church and to set up. We needed all the help we could get, but M was not having anything to do with it. The other two artists and myself scurried about getting the job done. We did sell a few of M's pieces, but given the difference in the amount R sold, it would have been much more successful had M been there.

M's not turning up is a pattern. He's done it before. As the pressure for accountability mounts, the fear rises. Sometimes, the fear overwhelms the need to turn up and swamps it with self-defeating behaviours.

Yesterday, M's fear won.

Today is a new day.

I know that fear of turning up. I know the reality of self-sabotage. It hurts the saboteur the most.

As I was speaking with the Minister yesterday about M not being there, she said, "It is what we do to ourselves when we fear our greatness that causes the most pain."

So true.

M feared his success and stayed away. He may have told himself, why bother. He may have said, I'll just have one drink to ease my fear. He may have said, No one will miss me.

I don't know what he told himself but his actions told me a lot.

In the moment, I too shared R's anger. But mostly, I was disappointed. I know how much the show meant to M. I kn0w how hard he'd worked. I know how important his paintings are to him. And I know the incredible vitality of one moment's success and its ability to shift the paradigm of a life lived in defeat to one of hope for a new tomorrow.

And he let himself down. Let himself off the hook of responsibility.

That hurts him.

All I can do is continue to treat him with respect. He is a man who has fallen hard on the road of life. He is a man who has forgotten his greatness.

The show yesterday was a success. For those who attended, their perceptions of homelessness and the people who suffer from it were shifted. For the artists -- their belief in themselves was shifted too. They gained a new perspective of their capabilities, a new appreciation for their ability to make a difference in their own lives.

The question is: Where do you let yourself off the hook of responsibility with the excuse not doing 'it' is the only option? Where do you refuse to fly for fear you'll fall?

Your unique voice

I took a workshop yesterday on mixed media. We used acrylic paints and pressed leaves to create wonderful images that were to become Christmas cards. The instructor had several examples of cards she'd created with detailed instructions on the back as to what to do when, and how to do it to create a card like it.

The woman across from me painstakingly began re-creating one of the instructors pieces. After a few minutes she stopped and asked the instructor, "Am I doing it right?"

The instructor inevitably replied, "There is no right nor wrong way. It's all in what you choose to do."

A furrow of fear appeared upon the woman's face. "But it isn't looking like yours."

"Of course not," replied the instructor. "It's your work. Your creation. It will always look like yours."

The woman was stymied. "You mean I don't have to do it exactly like you?" she asked, consternation clouding her words. Could she believe her?

"Absolutely not. I gave you my examples as a reference point. It's up to you to give the card your own..." She hesitated, searching for the right word, "unique voice," she finally said.

Unique voice.

We all have one. In The Eighth Habit, Stephen Covey implores all of us to find our own unique voice -- and then inspire others to find theirs.

Everyday I have an opportunity to live on purpose. To express my unique voice. To live with significance in each moment. To make each moment a reflection of the significance I create in my life when I purposefully claim my right to be all that I am meant to be.

It is no easy task to live on purpose. It's also not very hard. Living on purpose is simply the decision and the choice to find the gift in each moment I am alive. To see the beauty in the world around me. And then -- to celebrate the joy of everyday living.

When I move through my day with a joyful heart, greeting every circumstance with 'holy indifference' I experience the pure bliss of living in the moment without being attached to the outcome.

I used to have a sign above my computer that read: It is my responsibilty to

Turn Up. Pay Attention. Speak my Truth. Stay Unattached to the Outcome.

The first three are easy. The fourth.... not so simple.

I always want to control what happens to events once I've become involved.

Like painting. I want to control the paint to make it go where I want it to go. Working on my cards yesterday, I let the paint flow. I pushed it around, scraped it, moved it -- and then found the images within the images to create the impressions I desired. I worked in sync with my medium. I turned up. Paid attention to what was happening on the water colour paper before me. I searched for the truth in what I saw and expressed it in my own unique way -- and I stayed unattached to the outcome. I didn't anticipate a beautiful result. I let it happen.

The woman across from me yesterday struggled for awhile trying to make her cards look like the instructors. Finally, she let go. She gave into her frustration and loosened her grip on her brush. As she relaxed into the process a smile began to appear on her face. She let colours blend. Paint flow. Images move of their own volition. She stopped trying to control the outcome and let it happen.
"This is fun!" she cried as she let her brush move paint across the surface of the water colour paper.

From across the table I laughed and agreed. "Yup. It is. I love the free form of the process."

"I've taken hundreds of hours of oil painting classes because I told myself I should know how to paint. And I've never enjoyed it," she told me. "I hated having to do it exactly within the lines. To always follow step by step what the instructor said." With a flourish she affixed a red leaf to her painting. "This is really fun. I'm enjoying myself!"

She had found her unique voice.

The question is: What about you? What's your unique voice? Do you give yourself the grace of letting life happen without controlling the outcome? Are you willing to splash paint outside the lines and let it run with abandon? Are you willing to create a world of difference by celebrating the magnificence of YOU?

Doing nothing

Cold winter air has settled on the city frosting the world with scalloped edges of crisp white pristine snow. Brrr. The mercury dips and I want to go back and curl up in bed.

But the world awaits.

Ellie paces impatiently for her walk. The laundry piles up in anticipation. Light expands across the dull grey sky. Chimneys leak smoke. Snow crunches beneath the tires of cars passing by on the road outside my window. The furnace hums spewing warm air throughout the house.

Winter has arrived on a breath of frigid air, and I want to curl up in bed.

What to do? What to do?

Some mornings are just better designed for lazing about. Tomorrow, I won't have a chance to curl up in bed. The art program I run at the shelter is holding an art show and I have to help set up in the morning.

This afternoon I'm taking an art class. This evening we're out to dinner.

What to do? What to do?

Most mornings decisions are easy because they're simply not necessary. My schedule is laid out like a freshly pressed suit waiting for me to step into my day.

Mornings like today are not so defined. I have choices. There's nothing heavy resting on my mind. No urgent deadline that must be met. I've got options.

Mornings like today are little gifts in an otherwise busy agenda filled with meetings and projects to complete, errands to run and people to see. For this morning, I get to choose to let the errands go. The projects and deadlines can wait. Those who would want to see me are hopefully curled up in their beds savouring the moment.

For me, I'm going back to bed. The morning has arrived and I don't have to leap out into the cold until....

Well, until I must! My choice! My day! What a delightful opportunity to be alive and free!

The question is: Do you allow yourself moments of lazy splendour curled up doing nothing but enjoying the comfort of your bed, and your bedfellow? Are you willing to give yourself the gift of time to do nothing but savour the moment?