Wake Up Calls and Other Reminders

If we learn to open our hearts, anyone, including the people who drive us crazy, can be our teacher. Pema Chodron

My mind is skipping around judgment. I am driving back from a meeting when the object of my ire crosses in front of me.

He is an older gentleman. Red puffy ski-jacket unzipped. Big winter galoshes untied. He takes a drag on his cigarette, steps off the curb into the intersection just as the light to 'go' turns green for traffic. He doesn't care. He just starts walking across the street in front of the still stopped traffic.

We wait.

He saunters.

He reaches the other side where I am waiting, steps up and over the curb and collected snow and ice in the gutter onto the sidewalk and continues on his way.

Traffic begins to move.

Fortunately, he didn't saunter so slowly everyone missed the light!  Whew! I mean, how awful would that have been? To actually miss a light!  No way!

I get to another intersection just as the light in front of me turns red. I stop. Bet I could have made it if that man hadn't been so....

I decide to not call him names.

I decide I'd best let it go. See if there's a lesson in it for me.

And there is. I wonder about his children. If he has taught them to obey traffic signals or to ignore them, regardless of the danger.

I think about all the children in the world who do not receive loving guidance. And through all my thinking, I absolutely do not think about judgments. About judging others. About criticising, condemning and complaining.

No way.

I am being constructive here. thinking about the children of the world and what they need.

I'm not judging. I'm just being real honest about what I see.

The light turns green. I wait, watching oncoming traffic until it's safe for me to turn left. There's a gap in the flow of traffic,

Gotta use that gap. I zip through the intersection...

And almost hit a young woman crossing the street.

I slam on my breaks. Where did she come from?  My eyes go moucho wide with alarm.

I wave my hands, asking for forgiveness and scoot through -- there's a car bearing down on me coming through the intersection.

Bless them. Forgive me.

I am shaken. Rattled.

Focussed on another's wrong-doing, I have not been paying attention to my doing.

I almost hit someone.

I carry the guilt and sadness with me, the critter of self-criticism lurks to attention. Yeehaw!  Let's have a field day in the garden of guilt.

No....

Let's have a field day in the garden of forgiveness.

Let's not beat ourselves up. Let's commit to doing better. To paying attention. To letting go of judgment and criticism and 'I can fix the world if you'd just do it my way' thinking.'

Let's be present.

And so I breathed. Bless them. Forgive me.

Yes, I almost hit a woman -- I didn't.

It was a good wake up call.

That man in the intersection is a good teacher.

He reminded me to stay focused on what I'm doing, to pay attention and stay present in the moment with a loving and forgiving heart.

Thank you sir!

What is this thing called Love?

The Path of Love

I played yesterday. Played in the snow. Took my camera. Created photos of hearts.

And it was Fun!

It's all in an effort to explore the question I've posed for myself,  "What does Love mean to me?"

Yesterday, I read this from Andrew Cohen,

When we use the word "love," what exactly are we talking about? Are we referring merely to our unique tastes and preferences? Are we referring to our experience of deep personal bonds and emotional attachments? Or are we referring to our connection to a higher spiritual Truth? When we have an experience of revelation or what is traditionally called enlightenment, we directly taste for ourselves a kind of love that is of a different order altogether. It is a love that is truly eternal and unchanging, a love beside which all other forms of love pale in comparison. Once we have tasted its liberating and all-encompassing depth, our understanding of what love is and what it means changes forever.

Lovescapes in the Snow

Yesterday, more snow covered the ground and the labyrinth I'd created in the front yard was almost covered over.

I decided to re-create it, and in the process of walking it, respond to my question, What is Love?, by drawing myself into the centre of my 'true blue heart'.

It was a wonderful, delightful and playful exercise of intentionality marrying with creativity and whimsy.

Afterwards, I let my heart, and my creative nature run free creating LoveScapes in the Snow...

And, in the process, my understanding, knowing, embracing of 'Love' was enlightened by my path into my 'true blue heart'.

A Heartfelt Repast

I have always imagined letting go to mean 'falling'. What if letting go means flying free? Like zero gravity, what if letting go means lifting off, flying free, soaring into the unknown where I am free to explore all it means to be a loving human being without fear of falling?

What if...

I no longer chose to let gravity define my journey?



What if...

Letting go I fly free.

Transformed by beauty all around

Every moment of my life is a new adventure. Soulseeds

It snowed last night. The wind is blowing this morning, the world is a white woolly blanket. And I am warm inside.

Ellie, the wonder pooch, and I went for a walk in the snow last night. The world was silent, all sound muffled in the weight of snow falling. Halos of light glistened in the dark, prisms of snow danced in their eerie incandesence leading us every forward on our way.

The path is the Way.

We trudged through the snow, Ellie zig-zagging her way down the lane. There is no straight line to anywhere when she is off-leash, and in the quiet of the night, letting her off leash in the lane-way was a safe alternative to going to the off-leash park.

Her joy was infectious. I threw snowballs for her. She chased them and couldn't find them, running back to me to see if maybe I'd tricked her and had thrown her a curve ball. And then she ran back to where she thought she'd last seen the snowball land, always searching for new evidence, new places to run and explore, as laughing, I lobbed snowballs all around her.

The curve in the path is the Way to explore new directions.

I carried my intention of being intentional on my walk last night. Of 'noticing'. The light. The snow. The air. The feelings within me and all around me.

In my 'noticing', I realized that each step is a new step. Each step is informed by the previous, and I am transformed by each step.

It is a learning from my Soul of a Pilgrim retreat at the Abbey of the Arts.

Holding on to letting go, I am transformed by every thing.

I wrote in my journal, Travelling into the unknown, each step transforms me. In the perfection of each step, I discover myself without fear of transformation. Mystery waits in the unknown. Mystery welcomes me into the beauty of the mystery unfolding in each step.

As you journey through your day, ask yourself, "What new adventure is unfolding as I take this step?"

And then, be open to the mystery and the beauty unfolding before and within you.

I walked in the snow last night and was transformed by the beauty all around me.

May your world be transformed in every step you take today.

Namaste.

Letting go now.

The past is for wisdom, the present is for action but for joy the future. Disraeli 

Calgary is one of those interesting climate zones where bright warm, sunshiny temperatures can give way to clouds and snow within moments. Blink and the world is transformed.


In the Soul of a Pilgrim retreat I'm engaged in, we are invited to go through our day noticing and experiencing what is on the surface of things as well as below.


This morning, I worried. 


A friend who normally emails her comments in a project we are engaged in by 6:30am, had not sent anything before 7 even. 


Worry marched in before I had a chance to whisper, Stop. (Like I would have.)


What is beneath the surface of this worry? I wondered.


And I saw the truth.


Last week in the Pilgrim's course, I wrote about a limiting belief I'd unearthed. I do not trust the Universe.


Now that is beyond limiting, it is self-defeating and imposes a world of distrust in everyone, everything and every happening in my world.


Sure, I realized, on the surface, I trust...


On the surface.


Below that? well... let's just say there's this little critter in me whispering, right, they say they love you but what they really mean is, "I love you as long as you do things and act in ways I approve of." "Don't disappoint me." "Who are you kidding? You don't deserve love." and on the critter slithers through my psyche.


"We only see beauty if we practice," writes Christine Valters Paintner, Abbey of the Arts Abbess and guide of the Pilgrim workshop.


I see beauty in my worry. I see the beauty of my limiting belief and I see the beauty within it. For within it, beneath the surface of its limitations is the full and encompassing power of embracing it in Love and knowing, the universe trusts me and in my reflection I am the trust, I become the trust, I have nothing to fear, but fear itself.


Fear is at the base of my worry. Fear of disappointment. Fear of failure. Fear of looking stupid, ridiculous, of being conned, of being misguided, of trusting another for fear they will let me down.


No one can let me down when I trust in the Universe, and gravity, to hold me up.


>I cannot fall down when I trust myself to let go and surrender into Love.


Letting go now.


Snow is falling and the world is transformed in beauty.


namaste.

Joyce Wycoff -- guest blogger

Confidence is key to making a difference in the world.  Confidence in our ideas.  Confidence in our ability to take them into the world. 

Joyce Wycoff, When Confidence Wanes

My beautiful blog sister, Joyce Wycoff, is the guest blogger over at A Year of Making a Difference.

Her post, When Confidence Wanes is replete with solid advice and soul-lifting inspiration.

Do drop in and visit and let her know you did!  You difference counts!

Thanks Joyce for sharing your wisdom and your beauty so generously. You shine!

I Ate My Voice (a poem)

We have to learn to be our own best friends because we fall too easily into the trap of being our own worst enemies.  -- Roderick Thorp 

Roderick Thorp, whose novel, The Detective - Nothing lasts forever was made into the feature film, DieHard starring Bruce Willis, has it right -- I am suspect of falling into the trap of being my own worst enemy.

At lunch the other day with a friend, I had a nibble of Baklava. "Go ahead. Have some. You deserve it." and so, I cheated. And I lost a connection to my best friend -- the one within me who wants only the best for me.

I breathe and begin again.

Always, begin again where I'm at.

I have lost 18 pounds and I am feeling great! Yet, temptation to quit, to cheat, to have one bite lurk within the next spoonful, within every step into the kitchen, every view of TV. I have never been so conscious of how often food and drink appear on TV until I've been on this diet. No wonder we are becoming a nation of eating disordered consciousness. Encouragement to eat more, starve more, diet more, get thinner, let food be the way to happiness, are everywhere!

In honour of my commitment to eat what pleases and nourishes me -- body, mind, spirit and heart, I wrote the following to celebrate my commitment to Always Begin Again -- and celebrate where I'm at. Where I'm at is my journey of being exactly where I am, letting go of those things and thoughts and ideas that do not celebrate where I'm at.

I Ate My Voice

by Louise Gallagher

I ate my voice today

stuffed it down

beneath layers of grilled salmon

and mixed greens

beneath a nibble of dessert

I didn’t want

but chose to eat

anyway

I ate my voice

and was consumed

by sadness

knowing

my voice needed

no, my voice must

rise up

speak up

be heard

I ate my voice

knowing

only I can set it free

but I wanted so desperately

for someone else

to unlock

the recipe

keeping my silence

measured out

in carefully packaged words

that do not ring

true

I wanted someone else

to open

the door

to my voice

I ate my voice today

and I am tired

tired of feasting on my words

never spoken

I am tired of being full

of nothing

but regret

keeping me eating

the truth…

I ate my voice

looking for the perfect

word

or way

to say

I’ve had enough

No thank you

I’m done

eating my words

I’m done

not listening

to me

Speak Up.

Angels are always on our path

 It is her voice I hear first, "I'm going to be passing you on your left," she calls out cheerily from behind me on the path where Ellie and I are walking. And she does, pass me on the left, riding her bike, her body clad from head to toe in a snow suit. It is February. And this is Calgary at the foot of the Rocky Mountains. And while it's not cooold, it is brisk, a balmy 0 degrees Celsius. Add the wind on a bike and definitely snow suit biking weather.

I call out a thank you and Ellie and I continue on our way. We meet her again at the point where the asphalt veers left to meander down the hill to the river below and Ellie and I are veering right to the unbeaten path through the woods skirting the top of the ridge. She is standing looking out at the vista.

It is beautiful.

Crystal clear blue sky.

Snow covered mountains in the distance. Dark fir tree clad hillsides sweeping off into the west. There is no sign of 'city', of population expansion at this point of the trail. Just broad vistas of forest and rolling hills climbing into the Rockies.

We chat for a moment and Ellie and I continue on our path to explore the wonders of the day.

I am feeling happy. Content. A productive morning of writing, a few phone calls to prospective clients and now, freedom to explore the outdoors with my pooch. Does life get any better?

We spend some quality time walking and sitting on the hard cold earth, looking out at the view. The silver strip of frozen river a ribbon of possibility snaking through the valley bottom below.

Ellie doesn't have much time for sitting and meditating in the sun. She wants to get going, get exploring, get in motion.

I stall her with a couple of treats and entreaties to 'be still', lie down. It works for awhile but finally, off we go for more wanderings. And on our way back to the car, there is the woman of the bicycle, standing once again, or possibly still, at the edge of the cliff overlooking the view.

She sees us and calls out, "How wonderful to see you again!" And proceeds to tell me about what she's going to do when she gets home -- stay in her snow suit, sit on the chair in her front yard and enjoy the sunshine.

Except, she's worried about what the neighbours will think. And her husband. He's always telling her she can't just sit around and do nothing. "Do you think that's true?" she asks, before racing forward, into more dialogue. "Maybe you can help me," she says. "My son just moved out and the room he had is now empty. I want to use it for something. It's such a wonderful space but I don't want to turn it into a bedroom again, definitely not. My husband says I should make it into a yoga studio but I don't want a yoga studio at home and I don't know, I have this dresser in the basement. It's beautiful old wood with this gorgeous mirror and..." she pauses momentarily for a breath. "Do you think I should move it up there?"

"Do you want to?" I ask, still not sure why a complete stranger is asking me for decorating advice.

"Well, I love it and it seems such a shame to hide it away and I have all these other pieces of art and antiques." Her eyes snap wide open, her mouth forms a tiny 'O'. "I could turn the room into my art gallery. A place where I go and sit and admire all my beautiful things."

And she climbs onto her bicycle in preparation of riding off. "Oh thank! You've helped me so much. Now I can go sit in the sun and plan how I'm going to do this and.. oh Thank you!" And she was off to sit in the afternoon sun.

Ellie and I stood, bemused expressions on both our faces, watching her ride away. Ellie was somewhat dis-chuffed. The woman had barely acknowledged her presence. What's with that? And I was smiling. What a delightfully insane encounter.

I turned from watching her retreating figure back to admire the view. And that's when I saw it. A patch of untrammeled snow, the only patch around, just at the edge of the ridge where the earth falls away to the river valley below.

I knew what I had to do.

I bid Ellie 'Stay' (who am I kidding?) and walked over to the edge of unmarked snow. I turned around, faced away from the ridge and carefully lay my body down and made a snow angel.

It was divine.

I smiled up at the cerulean sky soaring above me. I laughed out loud.

And wonders of wonders, Ellie stayed still until I stood and walked away, leaving my angel lying in the snow behind me. A reminder that angels are on our path always. Sometimes, they come riding up on a bike, all wrapped up in a brown and red snowsuit.

And always, they come bearing gifts of laughter and joy.

When I got home, I gathered my journal and pen and a blanket. I moved the wrought iron table and chair into the sun on the deck and spent an hour basking in the glow of a February afternoon, enjoying the moment, exactly the way it was meant to be. Exactly the way it was.

Namaste.