A place to call home.

It was a busy Saturday morning. C.C. and I were off to visit friends in the mountains and I wanted to get some chores done before we left. After taking a load of newspapers and cardboard to the recycling depot, I loaded my car with bottles and headed downtown. I knew I was early for the bottle depot and looked on the streets for someone with a cart who might want to take my bottles off my hands. When nobody appeared, I did the next best thing. I went to the homeless shelter where I work and asked a couple of guys I know if they knew anyone interested in a load of bottles. One of the guys, Jack* replied, "I used to collect bottles. It would be nice to have some cash in my pocket."

"I'll drop you off at the Depot with them," I told him.

"You would?" he exclaimed. "Let's go." He tucked his bag under his chair and asked his tablemate to watch his stuff. "No problem," said his friend, Doug*. "It's not like I've got anywhere to go."

I drove Jack to the depot and on the way he told me about his hip surgery the previous year after a fall brought him down. "I had to have a hip replacement, but they left all sorts of bone fragments in. The pain is awful. I can't work. I've applied for government assistance but that's really slow."

I asked him how he ended up at the shelter. "My apartment building got sold and turned into condos. I couldn't find anyplace I could afford so here I am. It's okay. But I'd sure like to get a place of my own."

A place of my own.

It is a common refrain amongst the people we serve. 'I just want a place of my own.' But, in a city of skyrocketing rents and a dearth of rental units, finding that place of your own, a place you can afford is tough.

Before leaving the city on Saturday for the mountains, my eldest daughter and I went looking at apartments for her and her friend to rent. They've checked out the areas of the city they want to live in. They know how much it will take for them to be able to 'make it' every month. Like Jack, they have decided to get a place of their own. A place they can claim as their little space in the world. A place with a door with a key that locks it. A place that is safe and clean and allows them to start building their lives together as they separate physically from the families that have supported them for over twenty years.

It is a natural yearning. To have a place of your own.

And yet, for thousands of people in this city, a place of your own is not a reality. Sure, for some of our clients, it is their addiction that keeps them from meeting their need. For many, however, it is a series of events, of circumstances both personal and societal that have put up roadblocks to their attaining their goal.

Doug, Jack's tablemate, had a place of his own in a senior's building we own. It's subsidized rent and provides minimum support to help individuals maintain their position in the building. But for Doug, his lifeskills, or lack of them, got him into too much trouble. After months of missing the rent, he ended up back at the main shelter. He's been there now for over a year and has lost the belief that he will ever find that place of his own again. "Someday," he tells me whenever we chat. "Someday."

When does someday come? Waiting for someday is like waiting to win the lottery. You can't plan your life around it and if you do, you're not living your life in reality.

It is what I find most tragic about the cycle of homelessness. The ebbing away of initiative. The drying up of the drive to get someplace else other than where you're at.

As Doug said, "It's not like I've got anywhere else to go."

As a shelter, we don't have the capacity, the programs nor the staff to help someone like Doug develop the longterm life skills to make a difference in his own life. At sixty, after a lifetime of flirting in and out of homelessness, Doug's inertia becomes a force to be reckoned with. He sits every day at a table at the front of the room, laughing and reading the paper. Most days, he doesn't leave the building. Most days, he holds onto the table he's at, claiming his one little space in the world as if it is the only space that gives him meaning.

In a place where everyone gets a second and a third and a fourth chance, Doug has lost the will to take a chance on himself. To give himself the chance to make a difference in his own life.

My daughter and her friend are about to take a chance on life. They're about to give themselves a chance to journey into the world, to spread their wings and see how high they can fly free of the nests that have held them safe for so long. It is an awesome journey, an exciting adventure. A step worth taking. A leap worth jumping into. They are looking at their future through open eyes, planning the steps they must take to create the life of their dreams. They're going after what they want, living large. Living life filled with possibility.

Former British Prime Minister, David Lloyd George said, "Don't be afraid to take a big step. You can't cross a chasm in two small jumps."

For Doug and Jack and those who sit at tables day after day in the hopes that the world will somehow change, that answers will somehow appear, the ties that bind them to their pasts keep them from taking a step into the world beyond the doors of the shelter. They keep them fixed on believing baby steps will create the story of their futures.

Every night at the shelter we sleep up to 1100 adult men and women. It's a busy place. A place filled with stories of lives in despair, of lives in turmoil, of lives of people who sit day after day at a table in the corner because they believe they have 'nowhere to go.'

The question is: Where are you sitting? In the possibility of someday arriving with the answers? Or, are you creating your answers as you live in the limitless possibilities of living life beyond your comfort zone? Are you leaping into the void armed with the knowledge that whatever happens, you're prepared for what life offers up because you are a human being doing what it takes to live the life of your dreams?

Dream big. Live large.

“Life is full of beauty. Notice it. Notice the bumble bee, the small child, and the smiling faces. Smell the rain, and feel the wind. Live your life to the fullest potential, and fight for your dreams.” Ashley Smith

It's possible you've never heard of Ashley Smith. She was a single mom who lost her child because of a drug addiction. Four years after her husband died of a stab wound, she was held hostage by Brian Nichols, a man who reportedly had just escaped from jail and killed several people before randomly selecting her as his hostage. While hostage, she read to him from the Bible and gave him some of her stash of meth. Her captor let her go when she told him she wanted to visit her daughter. She called 9-1-1 and he was arrested without incident.

Before the events transpired on that fateful day in June of 05, Ashley Smith had a dream of ending her addiction. Since those events transpired, she has written a book, remarried and is going to school.

We all have dreams. Sometimes, we let them wither on a shelf. Sometimes, we might even take them down and admire them. Hold them up to the light, let them sparkle in the sun before replacing them on the shelf for safe-keeping.

Sometimes, we might even choose to live our dream.

Thoreau wrote, "If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours."

Shoot for the moon. You'll end up amongst the stars.

I have a dream. It is a vision of my life as a full-time writer. I was close to it once. Got scared and backed away. Met a man and took a wrong turn into despair. I've been slowly inching closer to my dream again. Slowly taking steps that move me forward on the continuum of my dreaming.

It's time to leap. Time to embrace my dream with fervour and passion. Time to get real with my reality. To get up close and personal with my ambitions and down and dirty with my resistance to claiming my place in the sun.

As Thoreau suggests, in the act of living our dreams, we live a life beyond our imagination. In the act of writing here every morning, of moving constantly forward in my vision of my life, I am experiencing life beyond my imagination. Life amongst the stars, in the stratosphere of my dreams.

Dream big. Live large.

The question is: What's your dream for your life? Are you living it up every day or letting it wither on a shelf for fear it might fall to pieces?

In giving we receive

Grace defies reason and logic. Love interrupts, if you like, the consequences of your actions, which in my case is very good news indeed, because I've done a lot of stupid stuff. Bono

In my life, I too have done a lot of stupid stuff. My stupidity lessens as I become more aware of my ability to live in grace through every moment of the day by doing less of what hurts me and more of what heals me. In my journey, however, I am humbled by the realization of how little I know about living without fear of the world around me. How little I know about being free. When I stand in love, however, my journey is filled with grace, and the recognition that this is my one wild and passionate life. It's up to me to live it up.

In Greek mythology, the three graces were sisters, Aglaia (Splendor), Euphrosyne (Mirth), and Thalia (Good Cheer). In middle ages iconography, the Graces represented beauty, charity and love. For me today, grace is the state of being where I am in balance. Where I am at ease with my world, at peace in my heart and at rest in my mind, confident in my being my one true self.

In today's hyper-accelerated world, living in grace can be a challenge. Life gets going and I get doing without stopping to breathe the air around me. Mind in forward, I step into my day looking for what needs to get done as I forget about what I'm doing in the moment of my being at one, at peace, at ease with where I'm at.

Recently, I received an email from a woman I've never met. She saw my daughters and me at Choices awhile ago and had to write to tell me of what that brief encounter meant to her. Her words were moving, touching and inspiring. I felt bathed in grace. Surrounded by beauty, charity and love.

In the woman's email, she wrote and told me about her story and how it parallels the story of my journey with Conrad. But I'm not writing to tell you about my story, she wrote, when I heard you'd written a book I bought it "not b/c of what it was about, but b/c I wanted a piece of your understanding of the gift of life."

In her words I am bathed in the Graces. Bathed in the gift of another woman's spirit touching mine and lifting me up. I am reminded that I am a child of the universe, living this one wild and passionate life, fearlessly becoming all that I am meant to be. When I share my joy and laughter with grace and ease, I am living on purpose, doing with intent. "I am a fearless woman sharing my unique gifts to create a world where spirits dance freely in love, joy and harmony."

I asked both my daughters to read this woman's email. "Please know," she writes at the end of her email, "that your spirit has touched my soul." I wanted them to know that their spirits, their love, has touched another and inspired her to live, laugh, love.

I am humbled and I am inspired.

What an amazing gift this woman has given me. In her words I am in awe once again of the human spirit's ability to overcome sorrow and pain. For my daughters, the gift of her words is a soothing balm of confidence, of joy, of love. What her words tell me is that in our journey away from those dark days of pain and sorrow, we have claimed the right to live in joy and laughter. To live in spirited exuberance, alive and dancing, in love with being who we are, in love with where we're at, freely sharing our gifts so that in giving, we receive.

The question is: Are you dancing with joy, sharing your exuberance with the world around you? Or, are you silently standing on the sidelines watching the world dance before you, refusing to receive the wonders around you?

Fear of falling

So, I have this thing about trust. I know I mentioned it before but when it jumps up and hits me in the face, figure I'd better pay attention.

C.C. and I were having a discussion. Alright, it was heated and it had teeth but as neither of us are yellers, it can't be called an argument, right?

Wrong. Silence or Violence -- it is still an argument when two people take sides and refuse to give way for another perspective. Both C.C. and I share the silence mode of arguing -- which gets nowhere fast other than discord.

Thing is, I haven't got a clue about what we were arguing. The inciting incident was lost after about the third stony silence that clearly stated, "I'm pissed. Don't enter my space."

To make matters worse, I have 'all or nothing stinkin' thinking' tendencies. As in, "Fine. This obviously means we have no common ground. Good-bye."

Okay, so while the argument, veiled as a discussion, didn't quite get to there, my thinking definitely did. I suppose in some ways it's like someone saying, "Well, it's not really infidelity if I don't act on my thinking." Duh? Even without the action, it's still 'stinking thinking'. There's no integrity in thinking like a pig.

In this instance my stinking thinking was planning exit strategies -- and I still couldn't remember what the argument was all about!

Which led me to my journal last night. To writing it out so that my head didn't get caught up in thinking itself into tighter and tighter circles.

Now, it's easy to cite the 5,432 things he did to make matters worse. I'm not so liberal with adding up the totality of my accountability.

I knew I had to take ownership of my 100%. I knew I was responsible for everything I said and did -- I just really, really wanted to lay all the blame on him. I mean, it was all his fault. Right?

Wrong. Until I ask myself the questions that make me dig deep into my accountability and add up my steps into the wrong direction to arrive at the total of their mis-direction, I will be acting out of reflex. blaming him for my 100% as well as his and not living with integrity.

I started with the most important questions first -- What do I want in my relationship with C.C.

Closeness. Intimacy. Trust. Love.

Did my behaviour increase closeness, intimacy, trust and love or did it subtract?

Duh. It was mighty cold in them frigid zones below zero where my defenses kept me on Red Alert looking for any means to justify my position, adding up his accountability to 202%.

But.... and my critter mind awakens to the danger of losing control. Yah But he.... and it begins to cite C.C.'s offences without any regard to truth or fact. In the world of protecting my ego, fiction works best.

Back to ground zero. What do I want? What am I creating? Discord or Harmony.

Thing is, discord keeps me stuck in my fears. To create harmony I must step through my barriers, step beyond my comfort zone, surrender my ego and fall into love.

Scary stuff that falling into love. What if I hit rock bottom? What if I don't fly?

And there lay the crux of my discord. My fear of falling was keeping me from taking the leap into love trusting that no matter which direction I go, I will always be okay within me.

In falling into love, I fear letting go of the ground beneath my feet. I fear moving to another place and keep myself in the place I'm at, regardless of how uncomfortable it might be. Talk about self-defeating game!

As Babe Ruth said, "You can't steal second base and keep one foot on first."

I can't fall into love without surrendering the place I'm at. I can't trust without being trusting, without being trustworthy.

I was creating the distrust I was living.

C.C. was acting from where ever he's at. From his discomfort. His fears. His insecurities.

What was I doing?

Well, truth is, exactly the same thing -- in spite of my holier than thou thinking that kept chiming in that I was acting like a mature, caring, loving human being!

And that's the thing about arguments. The details of how we fall into discord evaporate in our desire to hold our ground on where we're at.

For me, being right became way more important than being loving, caring and considerate. Being right protected me from risking being vulnerable -- now that was scary.

In the big picture of our relationship -- I don't have to be right. What I need to be is loving and caring. I need to act with integrity -- not the intent to protect myself just in case I might get hurt.

Scrapes and bruises, bumps and hurts are all part of loving and living with passion. Fearlessly letting go of my fear of scrapes and bruises, bumps and hurts is all part of being a woman of worth, a woman with integrity, a woman who is capable of living life outside her comfort zone, fearlessly experiencing the highs, and the lows, of loving another human being without fear of falling.

The question is: Where do you create discord to protect yourself from being 100% accountable for your actions? Where do you let fear keep you from letting go of where you're at?

Flying over waves

The water was choppy. Whitecaps danced. Waves splashed. Clouds floated like islands. The sun floated amidst them. Hiding. Shining. Hiding. Shining.

I had never driven a SeaDoo before. A.S. offered to give me a lesson. "The water's a bit rough for a first time," he said. "But if you're willing, I don't mind taking you out."

We left the group of thirty or so adults and kids sitting on lawn chairs in a circle on the sand, and waded out to the SeaDoo. The water was icy. Thigh high. Cold. Chilly.

A.S. gave me a quick lesson. We climbed on board with me in front and took off across the waves. At first, I was nervous. Trepidations washed over me. Oh my god, my mind screamed. I'm scared. My right thumb on the gas knob, I pushed gently down. The machine bucked and balked, slewing through the choppy waters.

"It has to get above the waves," A.S. hollered into my ear.

I pressed harder upon the lever with my thumb. The machine leaped forward, and up and onto the water. We began to fly across the waves. Bouncing and rolling, the sound of the engine a constant drone in our ears.

I was terrified and exhilarated all in the same breath. I laughed and screamed and hooted. Water splashed, spray flew up and out in a white foam that sparkled in the air. We zipped over to the other side of the lake. We zoomed into the waves and headed north. I turned the wheel and we began westward, back to the other shore. With a spew of water and wake, we made it back.

I was in heaven.

I have a contract that I created at Choices. "I am a fearless woman." It reminds me of what I want more of in my life. It's the tool I use in moments when I am afraid. When I hesitate to do what's right. When I balk at taking the next step.

I know a lot of fear. Have felt it race through my body at the most inopportune times, impeding me from forward motion. Inhbiting me from taking action. From experiencing life on the edge of reason, on the other side of my comfort zone.

On Saturday, I whispered my contract to myself. Asked, "What would a fearless woman do?" and hit the gas.

It was grand!

The question is: What do you do when you confront your fear? Do you face it down and move into it, leaping over the boundaries of its inhibitions? Or, do you stop dead and let the waters wash over you, drowning you in their need to hold you back?

Gone fishin'

Off to the deep lakes of the interior of BC. Hope everyone has a great long weekend. There's no Internet service where we'll be so I will be gone 'fishin'!

I'll be back invigorated on Tuesday!

Louise

I walk in beauty now.

Something I lost through the debacle with Conrad (see, The Dandelion Spirit for background) was my belief in the mystical elements of life. My spirituality.

On Sunday, while at Choices, I was listening to the the speaker at the Sunday Morning Spiritual Service and the thought raced through my head that I had lost a song. It's a small song. Just four lines. I couldn't remember the words, but I could remember the value that song used to play in my life. I sang it to my daughters when they were young. I sang it to myself when I walked my dog, when I ran, when I went about my day.

I hadn't realized I'd lost that song until Sunday morning. I sat and thought about that loss and struggled to remember the words. Frustrated, I turned my mind back to listening to the speaker. He was asking a question. What do you believe?

What do I believe? I believe the world is a mystical, magical place where miracles take place every moment of every day. I believe there is a Divine Being, a collective consciousness through which we are all connected. I believe I have a purpose on this earth. I believe we all do.

And then the worlds of that song from my past came back to me:

I walk in beauty now.
Beauty lies before me.
Beauty lies above me.
Behind and below me.

Four simple lines that create a world of beauty around me.

Sometimes, we don't know what we've lost until we're reminded of its absence from our lives.

For me, my spirituality is an integral part of who I am. Before Conrad, I embraced my spiritual being and revelled in the wonder and joy of living on this amazing planet called Earth. I felt part of the universe, that big beautiful cosmos filled with shining stars.

And then I lost my sense of wonder. Lost my direction. Myself.

It's been over five years since his arrest and I am reclaiming that part of myself. My spiritual essence that believes in wonder, believes in a Divine Being, believes in a collective consciousness.

I have always struggled with my Christianity. Raised Catholic, God and I were not on very good terms. I wanted Him to like me. I wanted Him to save me, but in my childhood world, God was a giant hand suspended from the heavens waiting to descend forcefully upon my head for the slightest infraction of his rules. He was an all-seeing eye that watched my every move, grading me Good or Bad, forever keeping me in his sights in anticipation of my inevitable falls from grace that would mark me forever on the darkside of the ever-after.

Speaking of religion has always frightened me. Turning up for my beliefs has always intimidated me. What if... someone disagrees? What if.... someone thinks I'm stupid to believe what I believe? What if.... I don't know what I believe?

Happiness cannot be traveled to, owned, earned, worn or consumed. Happiness is the spiritual experience of living every minute with love, grace and gratitude. Denis Waitley

On Sunday, a song came back to me that once upon a time filled my world with beauty. In its reemergence into my mind, I am reminded that this is a wonderful world I live in. It is a place of beauty when I walk with a loving heart filled with gratitude, standing up for what I believe in, turning up for me in all kinds of weather and moving with grace, ease and dignity through my day.

I walk in beauty now.

The question is: How grateful is your heart? How loving is your world? Do you see the beauty all around you?