tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66972239824259832722024-03-13T08:17:02.079-07:00Between SleepzZzexploring personal creative use while counting sleepsAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05140419514944086638noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6697223982425983272.post-87235663510122278312015-02-08T11:26:00.002-08:002015-02-08T11:32:53.489-08:00Spiritual Hybernation<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am a Canadian girl. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I submitted this poem as an entry that won me this beautiful 'Canadian Girl' piece of art from an amazing Canadian artist. I would like to say that it is one of my most prized possessions, but I am just not that possessive. Let me say this, I treasure this painting for many reasons, but mostly because of the beauty and strength in what it represents to me. This is my definition of a Canadian girl. I wrote it back in 2009.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;">A Canadian Girl is proud to be vulnerable.
For if there i</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">s one single t</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;">hing she feels certain about,
it is the certainty of uncertainty.</span></div>
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A Canadian Girl seeks comfort in change.
For she knows to stay stagnant would deny her of her independence.</div>
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A Canadian Girl is a dreamer.
For she understands the nature of her restlessness.</div>
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A Canadian Girl wanders.
For she has learnt that taking risks satisfies her wondrous yearnings.</div>
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A Canadian Girl reaches out.
For it is in her nature to nurture.</div>
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A Canadian Girl politely declines her label.
For a branding would undermine her integrity.</div>
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A Canadian Girl picks up a 'Timmies' on her way over.
For she knew that you were a 'double double' the first day you met.</div>
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A Canadian Girl will replace her bedhead with her multi-coloured toque.
For she'd prefer to share a pint and a smile than time in the mirror.</div>
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A Canadian Girl knows that carpets will get dirty...and will also get you down a snowy hillside.
For she is playfully realistic.</div>
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A Canadian Girl will grasp a paintbrush in one hand and a hammer in the other.
For her multi-culturalism has lead to great multi-tasking.</div>
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A Canadian Girl appreciates the 'little' things.
For it is her sensitivity which breeds her insight.</div>
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This woman loves her country and all within it
For growing up a Canadian Girl...<br />
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She is Free.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kWEepBWv42Q/VNb3FglyVmI/AAAAAAAABAY/bISaCuD9lQ4/s1600/canadiangirl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kWEepBWv42Q/VNb3FglyVmI/AAAAAAAABAY/bISaCuD9lQ4/s1600/canadiangirl.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'Canadian Girl', A. Shay Hahn</td></tr>
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<span style="line-height: 19.9333343505859px;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 13px;"> </span> </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We are in the midst of a typical Canadian winter. And although I have experienced 40 (or so) winters I still have not grown to enjoy them. Let me just say, they haven't gotten any easier. In fact, as an adult, they get much, much more difficult, especially as a parent. More winter gear can put a screeching halt on even the best thought out plan. I have just recently (and shamefully) succumb to parking the ridiculously over sized bright blue shovel upgrade right next to the front door. A personal 'outting' of convenience for all to see. Winters in Canada aren't cute (practicality wins every time but this could be my age talking). </span></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.9333343505859px;">I haven't worn high heels outdoors for a couple of months now. </span><span style="line-height: 19.9333343505859px;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.9333343505859px;">My footwear must be able to withstand inches of snow and slush and uphold in freezing temperatures. </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19.9333343505859px;">My coat leaves room for layering. I walk around with a toque both indoors and out. I deal with hat head. My winter gear, much like my shovel must be readily available and up for anything, anytime. In the last 48 hours I have had to dig out my car numerous times, push a vehicle out of a snow bank while slipping and sliding to my knees, build not one, but two forts, participate in an intense, no holds barred, snowball war with my eight year old (yes, I won. It's a Canadian thing, don't judge) and I have gone out to shovel the walk and driveway too many times to count. Why the winter inventory of obstacles and the desire to share them you ask? All of this digging out has given me an awful lot of time to think. This past year has had a significant amount of struggles and challenges for me. And believe me, it has taken its toll. One could say that I have been stuck, buried even, within a ' winter' of discontent. It has snowed me in, often paralysing me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Shovelling yourself out of a snowstorm is much like shovelling yourself out of a 'shitstorm'. It's cold and miserable. You often feel alone as you look at the enormous task ahead. Feelings of regret creep in as you argue with yourself about how it wouldn't be this bad had you started shovelling yesterday and just dealt with the snow(shit) as it fell. Cars drive by and splash slush on you. Plows plow you in as you stand sweat covered and proud, shovel in hand, solely bearing witness to the clean driveway and mountain of snow you have compiled as your once great feat turns its back on you in mockery...defeated as the snow continues to fall. <span style="line-height: 19.9333343505859px;">We have surely taken on the disadvantage of ignoring natures signs that the seasons change was upon us. All of nature seems to stop dead in its tracks. </span><span style="line-height: 19.9333343505859px;">The birds have no songs to share. The sleeping trees stand amid the wreckage, winters carrion. But, if you are willing to seek it, there is beauty to be found within winters grasp. The gift of owning a moment within the quiet stillness of a late night winter walk. The blinding inspiration as the sun and snow dance together in a divine moment of truce, creating fields of diamonds. The ease in which we are willing to help a stranger, reminding us that we are not alone. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> When I stop to ponder this past year, I would say that it has been one of the worst of my life. But I would be horrendously wrong. My whole world has been turned upside down and inside out. I have felt completely exposed desperate in panic, longing to hide and isolate from the world in fear that they would see the ugliness in my coping, or lack thereof. I have been quick to judge. I have stopped searching for the beauty. You see, I am positive that God continues to work within me, through me. I <i>have</i> been turned upside down and inside out. I have been forced to plow through and uproot my life in order to cultivate it. I am a work in progress. God longs to till the soil of my life. He continues to uncover the enrichment of my spirit in preparation for the planting of new life which can only be found in new beginnings. I have buried my 'crop' beneath a bitter and frozen winter snow and forgotten about the prosperity that waits stagnant underneath. Working through the harshness of the elements is a necessary life lesson. And just as the seasons change, so must we. One thing remains, in the midst of this 2015 winter season, the 2009 Canadian girl still remains, and she will continue to dig herself into the hope of the next seasons promise.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05140419514944086638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6697223982425983272.post-46795898911812603372014-04-29T20:26:00.000-07:002014-04-29T20:26:02.047-07:00Expressions of Love Oh, but how life can have its way with you. Pitching a variety of gusty challenges from the mound at a hundred miles an hour. Some suggest the secret to success is to take a stance and swing at the good stuff. Make contact, draw or strike, this is life. But what do you do when you always seem to strike out? What happens when you feel you are loosing? What then, when simply showing up isn't enough? When you are sure that you have nothing left and you fear you are drowning, you get right back up on your feet, dust yourself off and make a decision to give it everything you've got. Decide to be all in.<br />
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I have been really struggling and falling back into old destructive patterns at a rapid pace. I found myself frantic, desperately sifting through the tools that I know I can rely on to keep me on track. The things that usually keep me centered and healthy seemed to be just out of reach. I found myself in the eye of a storm of chaos. I was having difficulty seeing outside of this old and unwanted familiar cycle I was being sucked back into. A backdraft of negativity seemed to be closing in on me. I have been praying non-stop. Surrendering, only to surrender again. And it hit me today while I was driving. I glanced over at a grown man smiling and laughing and rolling on the grass with his dog. And just like that, I was drawn into their moment. A stolen glimpse of pure love. And that was it! I knew that my mission for this day was to find expressions of love. Stay on task and dig deep. Expressions of love is love in action and it is EVERYWHERE. Once I shifted my focus and opened my eyes, my heart followed. I saw friends walking and laughing. I witnessed a man watching the sunset. I felt gratitude for the love from a patient friend and time offered to me from my sister. I listened to birds singing and I couldn't help but to laugh as church bells rang in the distance. When it seems like all forces are working against you, love. Love nourishes and feeds our soul. Love is medicine. Open your eyes and see it. Pick it up. Ingest it. Invest it. Trust in it. Believe in it.<br />
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When all else fails look for love. Then allow love into your life. It will flourish and see you through your darkest hour. Love will help you face your fiercest opponents. Live life as though all you have is love and the people you share it with. Make the choice to nourish these relationships and embrace loves wealth. Let that curve ball stare you down, then laugh at its attempted manipulation. You are love. Love is stronger than darkness, stronger than personal will and when you rely on it, you will make contact every time. Know this and you become unsinkable, undefeated. Love, did you leave it on the field today?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05140419514944086638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6697223982425983272.post-24524406161895634052014-03-26T11:47:00.001-07:002014-03-26T15:02:35.251-07:00The Incredible Lightness of Being<p>Life reminded me today of the heaviness of it all. As my prayer list began to swell, I found myself asking the big question, 'why'? Why must life get so heavy? Why do we carry the load of our burdens with us until the weight threatens obliteration? The answer was simple. Must it? When people I care for are hurting, I want to help. I want to fix the problem and take away the hurt, naturally. But our burdens do not make us broken. We each have our own heaviness that we must purge. At forty years old I assumed that growing pains were a thing of the past. But assumptions can be dangerously deceitful.  Perhaps there is something I can do. I have often used the line 'Be the light'. But today it shone upon me a new meaning. Perhaps I can help lighten a persons load. Take away some of the heaviness for them. Offer an honest ear, a smile, a laugh. Go for a walk. Meet for coffee. Don't attempt to fix someone or something that isn't actually broken. Remind the people in your life of the 'lightness' of being. I bet you will discover that your load will also feel a bit lighter.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-G_7Ej5uKu00/UzNN5PGt0eI/AAAAAAAAAKo/802QELETjqA/s1600/IMG_20140326_175733.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-G_7Ej5uKu00/UzNN5PGt0eI/AAAAAAAAAKo/802QELETjqA/s640/IMG_20140326_175733.jpg"> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05140419514944086638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6697223982425983272.post-11420130129722866662014-03-16T00:02:00.000-07:002014-03-16T00:02:56.008-07:00Attic Dwelling<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>'When God closes a door, He opens a window'...</b></div>
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I have heard that phrase a thousand times (okay maybe nine hundred). Heck, I've thrown it out there myself with empathetic pats on the back. It wasn't until recently that I actually understood what this statement meant. And do you know what I did? I opened that window and dove for my life.<br />
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I had been lost, stuck in the same hallway for some time. Now, I was at a point where I wasn't even noticing other doors let alone checking to open them. I had checked out. Huddled in the same 'hallway', in the same corner, staring at the same wall. Stillness. But not the good, peaceful BE'ing kind of stillness. The kind that closes in on you. A frightening hollow stillness that forces your eyes shut. The kind that makes you so afraid, you want to run and hide. But where? The long dark hallway was my space. It's the only place I felt I had come to know. Was there nothing left for me? No more doors? No thing. Fear had taken me by the hand and lead me further and further into my numbness. <br />
But every so often there was a burning, a tingling soft subtle whisper that tugged at my soul...'wake up...Wake Up...WAKE UP!'<br />
And there amid the darkness, the echo of my thoughts create an internal stirring.<br />
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Clinging to nothingness to stay afloat is tricky. It is only a matter of time before you start to sink again. Mere moments before suffocation and panic set in. But sometimes that is all it takes. One moment. One quick glance. One rescue mission. One life 'guard'. <br />
Someone saw the stillness in me. They recognized the calm before my sinking and they reached out for me. They shed some light into the darkness of my corridor. They took my hand and started to walk with me. God plants these people in our lives. These life 'guards', life 'savers' walk among us...they are us! <br />
You and I, we have powers, power. Please, please take this to heart. YOU have the ability to change the very course of a persons life. Take notice. And then take action. Offer an ear, a thought, a hand, a new perspective. Open a window. Be the light.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05140419514944086638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6697223982425983272.post-2399318211126321962014-01-05T15:17:00.001-08:002014-01-05T22:21:37.617-08:00Battle Damage<p>My son was painting his Lego mini figs today and came to me to proudly show me his work. He explained why some of the paint looked scratched and wore off...this particular soldier had battle damage beginning to wear on his armour. I can relate. These past couple of weeks have proven to be some of the most difficult of my life. I fear I am also showing some wear and battle damage. I am tired...completely spent even. Body, mind and soul are drained. I am physically, mentally and emotionally raw. I feel completely turned inside out. My whole being is so drained I can't even fake it. My battle damage is exposed for all to see. This is me. For now. I will wear my scars for some time, for all to see. But if you can look past my wounds, and look deep inside, my eyes will explain what words never could. I am still here. Remember me? I have felt lost. I have been lost. But I am walking my path (I happen to be crawling through some rough terrain at the moment). My eyes will show you that my heart aches, but she still searches for sun. They will remind you that for every ending an opportunity for a new beginning exists.  When you look at my eyes you will see what tired hope looks like. Look closer please. See me. Battle scarred and scared. Staring right back at you. I am not always strong. There is no need to be. Sometimes I am tired and weak. That is why I have asked so many of you for your love and prayers. I have needed an army of love. It works you know. When you feel you are drowning, arm yourself with love. Wear your battle damage for the world to see. Let them see you. For it is in your rising where you will inspire. Your freedom lives within you. It is yours for the taking. Dig deep until you get to the other side. Reach for hands if you must, but don't you quit. Dust yourself off. Find the light that illuminates your path. You are meant to shine. My son set his battle worn soldier up on his special shelf. He is aware that although this soldier appears to be worn and broken, this was an experienced fighter. A soldier that has been to war and back. Someone who had a rough patch...a soldier that would continue his journey. Someone special.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-c273BzuFQwQ/UspIXYT4ZHI/AAAAAAAAAJw/u5T1jC4ZcZE/s1600/IMG_20120708_082227.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-c273BzuFQwQ/UspIXYT4ZHI/AAAAAAAAAJw/u5T1jC4ZcZE/s640/IMG_20120708_082227.jpg"> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05140419514944086638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6697223982425983272.post-19323105567840061562013-11-28T12:57:00.001-08:002013-11-28T14:47:15.654-08:00Some'wear in Canada<p>I'm a relatively low maintenance individual. And yes, I have already been told that the self proclaimed 'low maintenance' women are actually ALWAYS the highest maintenance. I shake that s*%t off. It wouldn't be the first time I've broken the mold. Wanna know what is high maintenance? Winter! <br>
  As a Canadian, I know I am supposed to be in love with the cold. I am supposed to appreciate the seasons. And I do, I really appreciate spring, summer and fall. I have always thought that I needed to participate in a winter sport (ski, snowboard) for me to appreciate it. I ice skate...does that count? <br>
  Winter demands a lot of attention. The house needs to be winterized. The car needs to be winterized. We need to be winterized. My winter wear bin explodes when I unlatch it like the dough from a crescent roll casing. Coats and hats and mitts oh my! <br>
  As far as I'm concerned it's all about the layering...and layering. Tights under pants, thermals under long sleeve shirts under sweaters under coats...wool socks under boot liners under boots...hats and scarves and gloves. Why am I STILL cold??? <br>
  If I could just 'tap out' for the winter I would. Blow that whistle already! I would spend these long dreary winter months fireside with blueberry tea, a stack of books and music. Now <i>that</i> could help make winter a favorite season.<br>
  Someone once told me 'you gotta fake it till you make it'. So, I gear up and I grin and I bear it. Let's be honest, I'm actually not baring anything at all as I transform into a massive sumo wrestler sporting my tightly woven together masterpiece of winter wear...all of winters layers and me...I am Canadian.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-89FwQhDs-68/UpfErKL5LFI/AAAAAAAAAJU/3digZ5ltwMA/s1600/IMG_20130110_203359.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-89FwQhDs-68/UpfErKL5LFI/AAAAAAAAAJU/3digZ5ltwMA/s640/IMG_20130110_203359.jpg"> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05140419514944086638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6697223982425983272.post-25023274769799565672013-11-26T14:41:00.001-08:002013-11-26T18:29:17.788-08:00L ONE ly<p>Have you ever found yourself in a room, surrounded by friendly people and you still felt alone? Loneliness can be a cunning sneak. It will creep up on and invade you when you least expect. There have been times when I have been so overcome by loneliness I have felt paralyzed. Surrounded and wallowing in loneliness, I have found myself wadding in it, staring it dead in the eye, daring it to drown me. I have been overcome waiting with bated breath while loneliness poured itself into the depths of my soul waiting for someone, anyone to come and rescue me. I eventually get tired of waiting and come up for air.</p>
<p>  What causes loneliness? Sometimes you are lonely simply because you feel alone. You are feeling a lack of connection. You are longing for someone to connect with. You yearn for another who understands you. You want someone to SEE you. Sometimes, if you are lucky you meet that person. And then sometimes they leave and you find yourself left standing in that dark pit of lonesome again. Only this time, the once unfriendly waters morph into a non-forgiving sadistic quicksand that consumes every inch of us before we can even think about holding our breath. Yes, I have felt that lonely. Our loneliness for this person can send us on a wild goose chase as we desperately grasp at anything in an attempt to fill that void. We drown in the struggle, knowing deep down that they can never be replaced. This is why it is so important to appreciate the moments we share with the people that we connect with and cherish. We know this already. But life has a way of keeping us busy and ego has a way of tricking us into believing we have time.<br>
Often, our loneliness is nothing but a self inflicted result from isolating ourselves as a defense mechanism. When we are hurt, heartbroken or disappointed we become self preservation architects. We attempt to protect ourselves from cruelties and hardships by separating ourselves from others, from the world. We build walls. We camouflage our hearts into the darkness of stone. We sign a declaration in blood stating that we will cease in making any connections. We want to believe love is for the weak. Constructing walls keeps people out, yes. But these barriers also trap us deep inside and will eventually lead to suffocation.</p>
<p>  The worst type of loneliness, the type that drowns, is the loneliness we suffer when we are missing ourselves. While we are kept distracted, busy with our lives we often wake to find that we haven't a clue who we are or how we got to this state. We wake to the realization that we are living life as imposters. This is the most deadly form of loneliness because it is the most difficult to recognize. We are more likely just to bow down and deal with the hand we were dealt. We feel it is our burden to bear and accept the consequences. If you can relate, it is time to wake yourself from this zombonic state of being. It is time to reconnect. It is time to shake it off. It is time for an adventure!<br>
Waking up, especially to an earth shattering alarm is hard to do. It becomes even harder when you don't know what you are waking to. It is time to stop worrying so much about where we are going and appreciate where we are. Be here now. It is time to rediscover who you are. Look into eyes. Look directly into as many eyes as you can, including your own. Stop being a stranger trapped in a body. Look inside. You are not a stranger. What if you started looking at you and I, you and her, you and that guy over there...together...ONE. I am not alone, and neither are you. There is always going to be you and I if you open your eyes and see...we.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-XJvCVENWiXs/UpVY-cxkQAI/AAAAAAAAAJE/7aFVWMOQh8Y/s1600/20130921_130512.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-XJvCVENWiXs/UpVY-cxkQAI/AAAAAAAAAJE/7aFVWMOQh8Y/s640/20130921_130512.jpg"> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05140419514944086638noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6697223982425983272.post-51020296153590454582013-11-24T19:02:00.001-08:002013-11-25T11:10:01.453-08:00Inside Out<p>How often do you find yourself thinking about things you wished you would have said. Moments, long gone of  words left unsaid. Missed opportunities of times when your opinion, spoken from personal experience, spoken from your heart could have helped someone. Words are a powerful force. They can be used as weapons, for certain. They can also be healers and saviours and protectors. We live in a world of big voices. We live in a world that likes to silence quiet ones. We live among people who will only appreciate your opinion if it matches theirs. Speak your truth anyway. If you have been knocked down, shut up, ignored, quieted, shushed, misunderstood, judged or abandoned, you still have a voice. If you are afraid, shy, trapped behind walls, stuck, pretending or oppressed, you still exist. Your voice belongs to you. Find your voice. The world needs and deserves to hear you. You deserve to be heard. You have a voice, even if you believe no one is listening. Sometimes our voice is all we have left.  Your voice is your gift. Use it. Then keep speaking...I love the sound of your voice.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-QnOXIUJl1yg/UpOedeQknDI/AAAAAAAAAI0/TQyrEARugsw/s1600/IMG_21393157606403.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-QnOXIUJl1yg/UpOedeQknDI/AAAAAAAAAI0/TQyrEARugsw/s640/IMG_21393157606403.jpeg"> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05140419514944086638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6697223982425983272.post-30767388378866183662013-11-22T14:07:00.001-08:002013-11-24T10:58:30.501-08:00Into the Stereo Shell<p>When I was a child I had a space I called my very own in our basement. It was an old door mounted on top of four red milk crates. It had this itchy red curtain that hung from the ceiling and drooped across it so no one could see in and I couldn't see out. I had some chairs up there in my basement fort. Mine was a green vinyl mini lazyboy like recliner. There was also a wooden black rocking chair that sat behind that curtain. It had gold flowers delicately painted on it. When you rocked, it was supposed to play music. The music box had long since broke off of its back leg. I remember running my finger across the metal tube and watching the metal teeth fumble over the bumps that were supposed to create the song. I never did quite figure out what that rocker was trying to say. No one was allowed to sit in that chair. I'm not sure why. I always found it tragic that I hadn't taken the time to listen to it's music before it was too late. I could spend hours behind that curtain. It was a place where I could let my imagination run away with me. I could become anyone or anything.  Right across from my red fort was one of those old record players. You know the ones that look like long console tables? It had huge buttons that challenged my tiny fingers. One year, we got a new stereo and someone took all of the stereo's insides...outside.  One day, I trot downstairs and all of my toys are missing. I turn to this stereo shell and slowly lift the top and peer down to see all of my toys inside this dead music box. I couldn't reach some of them because they were so far down.  Creative idea that, a stereo reborn into a childs toy box. My mom had a pair of blue suede platform heels that I would try on from time to time. I decided to put those friggin things on and clogged my way over to that dead music box and reeeeaaached down in a failed attempt to touch the bottom. Eventually I gave up trying to reach and hiked that disco shoe over the edge and dove myself into that case. I'd swim down to the bottom and shut the lid. It felt good to be around old friends again and I would sing at the top of my lungs. Breathing the air that record player did. I swore I sounded just as good-if not better. My stuffed friends and I  would sail through the ocean or fly through the clouds in my stereo shell.  When our adventure was over, I'd come up for air and run to my phone, you know the ones with the big googly eyes on the front, big red wheels, it made squeaky noises when you pulled it, anyway I would dial up an imaginary friend and we'd chit chat about our day. <br>
  As adults, we often don't have a space to call our own. We forget how to spend time alone, with ourselves. We forget how to use our imaginations. My son reminds me everyday that I can still get lost in my imagination. We are meant to use our imaginations, to play, to dream. We become adults and we think using our imaginations is silly and a waste of time. I don't have a space anymore that is just mine. My son has claimed pretty much every space in our house. But give me a pad of paper and some pencils or a canvas and some paints and I am lost for hours. My livingroom often transforms into a dance floor or a stage.  Sometimes we need to allow our imaginations to carry us away from the reality of our busy lives. Sometimes we need to get lost in ourselves. To be honest, I think it is healthy to play a little everyday. It is important to stay in touch with the child inside. To play, to imagine, to believe, to honour ourselves by keeping in touch with our dreams. Now, I am not suggesting you start walking around talking to imaginary friends. Become a rock star, colour something, don't step on sidewalk cracks, build a fort and then get lost in it, climb a tree.  Stop 'acting' like an adult for a moment. Become carefree and childish.  Use your imagination, set yourself free...allow yourself to just BE.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-sJO6TyaNF3M/UpJMU1PotoI/AAAAAAAAAIk/gqJn2ME8k60/s1600/IMG_49145883823365.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-sJO6TyaNF3M/UpJMU1PotoI/AAAAAAAAAIk/gqJn2ME8k60/s640/IMG_49145883823365.jpeg"> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05140419514944086638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6697223982425983272.post-82735524388618770212013-11-21T12:05:00.001-08:002013-11-21T14:18:05.886-08:00The Curtain Comes Down<p>I have been 'burning the candle at both ends' for some time now. I was sure that I was juggling it all with vigour and grace until...I got sick. It is a challenge to keep burning anything when your body is not well. I feel like I was forced to drop the balls and just stare helplessly at the rubble left underfoot.  I feel like my body is holding me prisoner.  Looking around our house I grimace as I calculate all of the work that needs to get done if we are to be in the new house by Christmas. My mind attempts to mastermind a list of things to do. My ego tells me that I can do all of these things as long as I just push through. I feel landlocked and suffocate as the walls of uncertainty start to close in on me. Then I can't help but wonder, do we keep ourselves so busy, so preoccupied with 'to-do's' because we don't want to have to deal with 'what is' happening in our lives? I know that I am often guilty of living in denial. If I keep myself busy enough I can live within the charade for quite some time. But I know, deep in the depths of my heart that I am denying my soul of living my truth. When I am forced to slow down, even for a moment, there is a constant burning, a longing telling me that I need to wake up.<br>
I have always been a strong advocate for trusting ones intuition. Our intuition is our truth speaking to us. I also know that once we stop listening to that voice of truth, the whisper will eventually fade away until we no longer can hear or recognize it. If we are lucky we get a gentle nudge reminding us that we are still in there. I am making changes everyday to get back to me. To uncover my truths. To live the life I am meant to live. It is hard. I have moments where I just want to put the mask back on and hide. I tell myself 'the show must go on'! But for whom am I performing?  When the curtain comes down, I am left standing alone, game faced and tired. We rob ourselves, and others of so much when we are not living our truth. It takes so much energy to live a lie. And that's what we are doing when we deny our truth. We deny our potential, we hide our gifts, we bury our soul beneath the rubble of our busy lives. How do we find our truth again? I wish I had the answer. I am starting by lifting and throwing away the lies, piece by piece. <br>
Living my truth is going to be difficult. I am a chronic people pleaser. I have always searched desperately for the approval of others. This life change will surely get boo's and hisses from others, and may not be received with a standing ovation. But I do know that this show has long since run its course. I know the charade is over. Every single moment I spend distracting myself now feels like an eternity. I know that when I can no longer stand to look myself in the mirror that there is an urgency to make some changes, to wake up. So, I suppose that in many ways I am indeed burning out. But I also know that if I put my ear to the ground,and listen carefully, I can hear the fire still smoldering deep within the smoke and ashes. I will tend to, and stoke my own rubble until it ignites. Forget the spotlight.  Truth is, I am not a burn out.  A fire lives within me that cannot be smothered. My truth is my light, and I vow that my flames will rise and my fire will shine again as bright as the sun. When you are living your truth, no one can put out your fire, not even you. </p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-APzLOTsyNC8/Uo6A8Qpc0ZI/AAAAAAAAAIU/uOfzdDev0Ec/s1600/20120917_202626.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-APzLOTsyNC8/Uo6A8Qpc0ZI/AAAAAAAAAIU/uOfzdDev0Ec/s640/20120917_202626.jpg"> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05140419514944086638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6697223982425983272.post-47671400721551401322013-11-18T19:40:00.001-08:002013-11-18T20:53:25.474-08:00Hearts Beat the Dealer<p>Have you ever had your heart broken? I have, plenty. My heart has felt so broken I've questioned whether or not it could be fixed.  I have been doing a lot of thinking lately. Maybe too much thought processing. In fact, I've felt pretty darn close to smashing the mirror of self reflection. I found myself wondering why I have felt broken hearted so often. Does that make me a chump? Do I set myself up for disappointment? Am I too open? Am I naive?  When I love, I love hard. When I love, I am in it for the long haul. If my heart loves you, you will stay there forever.  And then my mind stopped me dead in my tracks today.  Is it time to stop loving? Is that the only way to mend a broken heart? Do you have to close and lock your heart in order to protect it?  My observation, my heart beats so I can love. Conclusion, as long as my heart beats I will choose love.<br>
When I had my son, I thought my heart may explode. But it didn't. I am amazed at the amount of love my heart is capable of handling.  Love is lifes fertilizer. Love grows. I realized today that my heart just keeps growing...and growing. It has never diminished in size...even when I have felt heartbroken. I am proud of my heart...for refusing to shrink. My heart has decided to love anyway...even when it is broken. You see, the only way to heal our hearts is with love. Did you get that?  The only way to heal our broken hearts is to LOVE. And I know from experience, the more you love, the faster the heart mends.  Sometimes it is very difficult to love someone who has broken your heart. It takes time. But our hearts can function while they are healing, just as we can. <br>
I have decided that I am going to keep loving anyway. I know the stakes are high. I am very aware of the risks, the odds. I've never been much of a gambler but I decided today, I'm all in.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-_33fFzGYR9c/UoruNXsnD-I/AAAAAAAAAIE/pGULKLlcsxU/s1600/IMG_20131023_205448.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-_33fFzGYR9c/UoruNXsnD-I/AAAAAAAAAIE/pGULKLlcsxU/s640/IMG_20131023_205448.jpg"> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05140419514944086638noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6697223982425983272.post-49874730476770992982013-11-17T13:34:00.001-08:002013-11-17T19:20:15.067-08:00S.O.S.<p>Back in the day, before we were consumed with consuming and hysterically preoccupied, we helped one another. We relied on eachother. Our very existence depended on it. We looked out for one another. We were acutely aware of the needs of the whole. Everyone had a role and they executed their task. Each person zoned into their talents and knew how they could contribute to the whole. Where have we gone wrong? How could the human race descend so far from our real purpose? We have become a direct disheartened and hardened product of our fall from grace.<br>
  Many of us walk around completely unaware of our bottom fed existence. Waking, existing and sleeping soundly in spite of our troubled spirits. We are loosing. Loosing ourselves, loosing eachother, loosing our planet. We are lost. <br>
How do we rediscover ourselves, how do we reintroduce ourselves to one another? One word...help. Help ourselves by helping others. Reach out. Notice eachother again. Find a need, and then fill it. It really is that simple. A good deed is a good deed. And paying it forward is a superb idea. But what if it didn't take someone doing something nice to you, for you to do something nice for another? What if, you just decided to take a look and truly see where you are needed. Decide you can help. We need to relearn how to fill in the gaps and make a connection. We must begin  to work and live together again. Humans were not meant to merely exist. We are meant to thrive, together. We were built to live off of the land, and in return to deposit our energies and knowledge and appreciate this planet for what it provides. We are meant to lift eachother up. To assist others in attaining their goals. It is time to reflect and redefine our needs versus our wants. <br>
  When my son was born, like all mothers, I held him on my heart and I wept. I examined him for hours. I was in awe of his beauty and innocence. I knew in those moments he was untouched by society. I also was very aware that his innocence could not last. I knew I had to share him with the world. I thought at the time that the only thing I had to offer him was love. I know now that just isn't true. Loving him unconditionally is an important gift yes, but I can also show him what kindness and compassion is. The only way to do that is to be that, everyday. To show him how to behave in a world that often forgets how to give. To help him understand that we must be the light that shines into the darkness. I want my son to shine <b>his </b>light.<br>
Offering ourselves to another can be overwhelming and scary.  But it is so important to return to matters of the heart, wholeheartedly.  Are there risks in loving? You bet. What you have to offer may not always be welcome or reciprocated. You also open yourself to being taken advantage of, sure, we are human afterall.  But the core of our being is our spirit. NOW is the time to share our light and illuminate our spirits. Our very survival depends upon igniting that fire. We must quiet our mind and start listening and feeling and acting from our hearts. Start small if you must. Just begin. Be the light. Shine your light so brightly you spark. Ignite your spirit...ignite the world.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-2FZyk7Jtp2Y/Uol9OLlim6I/AAAAAAAAAH0/D2qQ84fzer8/s1600/IMG_20130901_230411.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-2FZyk7Jtp2Y/Uol9OLlim6I/AAAAAAAAAH0/D2qQ84fzer8/s640/IMG_20130901_230411.jpg"> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05140419514944086638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6697223982425983272.post-14223079716655651172013-11-16T22:53:00.001-08:002013-11-17T01:33:23.865-08:00I am a rock<p>I am a rock collector. I have been bringing home rocks ever since I can remember. I find rocks in my pockets, in my nitestand, in purses. And my rock hoarding has been passed down to my son. Now we look for, and collect rocks together. I'm not talking about precious stones either. We can become treasure hunters anytime, anywhere. At the park, in an alley, under a tree, by the river, in a stream...if there are rocks to be found, we find em. We pick them up, feel them, examine them, skip them, throw them...and when we find a special one...we collect them and bring them home. What makes a rock special? Many things! We look at them like we look at clouds.  Shape resemblance...this one has a face, this one's a polar bear. Colour wet, colour dry. Our favorites have surely become heart shaped rocks (We have gifted many a heart shaped rock). <br>
A couple of weeks ago, my son woke out of a deep sleep and stumbled into my room. I happened to be up reading. He reached his hand to me and said 'here momma'. Clasped tightly in his tiny little hand was one of our heart rocks. He turned immediately and crawled right back into bed. Now, I understand that to most, it is just a rock. But this special midnight delivery had a purpose. He was giving me love. His love. Our love. <br>
Rock collecting belongs to us. It is one way we spend time together. We talk with eachother. We listen to one another. We explore. We pile and balance and throw. We use our imaginations. We embrace the opportunity to quiet the noise and just be. Often times when we get home we will draw or print on our rocks. Sometimes we paint them. Some end up in the garden, many are nestled inside. Our interest in rocks has made them special...to us. This is how we spend much of our time out in nature and our rock adventures often lead us toward many other missions. Bugs and leaves and sticks often derail the quest, if only for a moment. We become hunters and gatherers.  Our rock collection proudly declares that we are treasure hunters. Our rocks help us stay grounded and connected. <br>
So if ever you receive a rock gift from us, please don't take offense. You can be sure that the gift is thoughtful and meant for your hands.<br>
A rock standing alone can have very little impact for many. But rocks help us to understand we are capable of building mountains, one pebble at a time.  Our rocks teach us that we can climb those mountains. We can even move them, if we choose...together. I am a rock. I may even be a mountain. But I am no island. No one can stand alone. Not even you.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-iiKt5alk3gc/UoiNYd0U_HI/AAAAAAAAAHk/w4slh78UvdQ/s1600/IMG_39325742796036.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-iiKt5alk3gc/UoiNYd0U_HI/AAAAAAAAAHk/w4slh78UvdQ/s640/IMG_39325742796036.jpeg"> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05140419514944086638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6697223982425983272.post-8816389726713839402013-11-16T14:03:00.001-08:002013-11-16T14:54:28.275-08:00The Giving Tree and Me<p>My son and I filled 6 bags of leaves while raking today at our new house. I was aware of the fact that we had a tree on our front lawn from the get go but it wasn't until her green leaves began to turn orange that I started to really pay attention to her. I have been admiring our front yard beauty for a couple of weeks now.   She has been standing tall and showing off for us ever since.<br>
I made sure to take some time everyday to stop and look and appreciate our little tree as her muted orange leaves changed into beautiful vibrant red. As the sun shone a little less brightly, our tree seemed to be on fire. <br>
When we began our two hour chore I caught myself thinking, how can such a gorgeous tree make such a big mess! But as we raked and bagged, we laughed and talked and took pictures in her fallen leaves. We created memories. I raked away lost in the task thinking sadly, we are sweeping all of her bounty into brown bags. I soon came to the realization that her bounty was not scattered on the ground. Her bounty was hidden entangled underground. <br>
I learned many things today from what began as a measly task. Much like a tree, humans also must change throughout the year. What a wonderful lesson. Just as seasons change so must we. And as our beautiful ever changing tree discarded her colourful leaves, she reminded me that we must also leave things behind, let things go. That our bounty, our worth is also entwined deep within. Even if we feel dormant and fear we are lacking beauty there is growth and healing occuring. I will remember to take notice of our quiet and naked tree throughout the long and cold winter months. More importantly, I will learn to have more patience with myself when I am feeling stripped and unworthy. I will allow our tree to teach me her lessons. I am always changing. For even in the darkest days, there is growth and beauty waiting to be discovered. </p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-eDYrnyEInFA/UofrooSgJLI/AAAAAAAAAHU/G5KgelYCPKg/s1600/20131102_150318.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-eDYrnyEInFA/UofrooSgJLI/AAAAAAAAAHU/G5KgelYCPKg/s640/20131102_150318.jpg"> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05140419514944086638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6697223982425983272.post-67220128358706442072013-11-13T17:39:00.001-08:002013-11-13T17:46:27.623-08:00Tag...you're not it...<p>What drives you? What inspires you? What are your passions? These are questions I ask myself often. As a matter of fact, too often. <br>
  The pursuit of happiness has morphed into the ever rotating whirlwind known as the rat race. So what are you chasing? Your passion? Your dreams? Someone else's? When was the last time you stopped to peruse the pursuit? <br>
  What would happen if we just stopped.  Just stopped running. Stopped chasing. Stopped the huffing and puffing...and...stood...still.  Forget the fear of others passing you by. Forget what we are chasing. Forget what we are running from. Forget the fear of what may be chasing us.  What if we simply let ourselves BE. Stand with yourself. Still. Quiet. <br>
  Take an opportunity to step off of the treadmill.  Quiet the noise pollution that fill us up until we fear we may explode. Listen to the sound of your breath. Hear the beats of your heart. Awaken...inhale...exhale...open your eyes beautiful...free yourself.  If only for the moment.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-YcaYn6obLwU/UoQrcTYjnJI/AAAAAAAAAHE/Pw3fksKxMQc/s1600/IMG_20121116_112633.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-YcaYn6obLwU/UoQrcTYjnJI/AAAAAAAAAHE/Pw3fksKxMQc/s640/IMG_20121116_112633.jpg"> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05140419514944086638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6697223982425983272.post-23979994532714766682013-11-12T18:51:00.001-08:002013-11-12T18:51:31.368-08:00My Life as a Houseboat<p>  I have been lost in a sea of house renovations for a month now. My landlegs shake and wander aimlessly aboard what often seems like a sinking ship. The waves of uncertainty can hit you like a squall. But despite having moments of longing to jump overboard, I have found myself falling in love.  I find myself vowing to go down with the ship.<br>
  When the house was purchased, it was put together. It functioned as a house.  It stood, day after day unnoticed.  We introduced ourselves by getting a massive garbage bin delivered. And I couldn't help but wonder, how on earth are we going to fill this?  This simple house that stood merely existing began to crumble.  And as we began to expose its secrets and uncover its past, I found myself whispering 'It is ok, everything is going to be ok. You will be whole again. I will take care of you'. And with every rusty nail being yanked from it's bones, my mantra became stronger and louder.  Crazy right! Talking to a house! But you see, I wasn't. I wasn't talking to this house.This proclamation that started as a whisper was meant for me.<br>
  This house has become a labour of love.  My labour of love. A new beginning. My new beginning. Every nail being pulled and each wall coming down exposing the beauty that I know exists there.  And as the house came down and the bin overflowed, I could see its vulnerability. But standing proud in all of its rawness I see beauty. I see potential.  And I find myself repeating, 'You are ok. You are beautiful. We will restore and rebuild. We will find a way'. <br>
  It is a very slow process.  So much of the rebuilding depends on the actions and service of others.  And there are many I must depend on. It is difficult and terrifying for me to depend on others. It is one of many of my character defects. I am learning to ask for help. To admit I am not ok. To let others know I can't do this alone.  And slowly but surely, as the walls are exposed help arrives. Willing hands who SEE this 'house' and its beauty in all of its rawness. Beautiful gifts who know its potential. <br>
  If you are ever feeling abandoned, ugly or unworthy I am here to tell you, you are not alone. There are people who want to see you. People who want to see your rawness and beauty, if you will allow them. If you can be brave enough to break down your walls there are treasures to be discovered.  <br>
  Having faith in a process you know nothing about is difficult and challenging. Change is scary.  I too tire of the endless need to be taught lessons through trials. But this is living. We must take time to renovate and restore ourselves.  When we settle we are stagnant. We become old and tired. We begin to rot.  Every single day is a new opportunity for a fresh coat of paint, a new beginning. It is ok to start over.<br>
  Take some time to awaken from your daily routines. Allow yourself the opportunity to look at the horizon.  Don't be too quick to judge what you perceive to be troubled waters.  You never know what secrets lurk behind the walls. You never do know who is waiting to fall in love with what lies beneath the surface.  Be patient...hope floats.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-tlAw3LXIiq0/UoLpMeyxtlI/AAAAAAAAAG0/KWjT3jk6rfc/s1600/IMG_20121109_215418.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-tlAw3LXIiq0/UoLpMeyxtlI/AAAAAAAAAG0/KWjT3jk6rfc/s640/IMG_20121109_215418.jpg"> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05140419514944086638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6697223982425983272.post-36839236632447523732013-11-07T07:59:00.001-08:002013-11-07T13:22:35.947-08:00What do you do for a living?<p> In the past, when someone asked me what I did for a living I would start to squirm a bit. I would politely respond with the answer and more times than not, the individual would walk away disappointed.<br>
When I really think about that question now, it leads me to this one, what do I do to live! To really LIVE! Well, in order to be alive I must eat, sleep, etc...and in order to pay for those things I must wake up, like everyone else and go to work. But my work does not define me. I have never thought that it would. It just never has. What do I need to do to be living? I need to dance and sing and be surrounded by music. I need to create. I need to listen and to surround myself with positive people. I need to connect with nature and animals. But most importantly, for me to be 'living' I need to love.    <br>
  It is very important to me that my family and friends, my loved ones, feel loved. I tell them often. But it is important for me to show them. To make them feel loved, not just to hear me say it. What if I took that a step further. Doesn't everyone deserve to be loved? Everyone has the ability to be loved...everyone CAN be loved. So if a total stranger CAN be loved, why not love them?  </p>
<p> If a person you love suddenly dissappeared, would you have regrets?  Would you wish you had told them you loved them? Would there be things you felt were left unsaid? If you are trully loving the people in your life, if you are showing them love and allowing them to feel your love, being an example of love, then there would never be anything left unsaid because there just wouldn't be a need for words. Humans know love.</p>
<p> When I leave this place, I want to know that I really lived. And if just one person felt my love, my life would be a success. So the question really should be, what do you do for a loving?</p>
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  The world needs to see more of that don't you think? More special. Find someone, anyone TODAY and make them feel special. Allow someone the precious gift to return the favour.  Share your special for all to see. The world needs to be reminded every so often that we are all special. Because every single one of us belongs to the 'WE'.</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-YhV_18IYbZs/UnlFUiGBITI/AAAAAAAAAGU/GWWex7rykQw/s1600/IMG_20120724_223546.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-YhV_18IYbZs/UnlFUiGBITI/AAAAAAAAAGU/GWWex7rykQw/s640/IMG_20120724_223546.jpg"> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05140419514944086638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6697223982425983272.post-36750066801209352372013-09-15T20:18:00.001-07:002013-09-15T20:18:23.452-07:00I Can Do Difficult Things<span style="font-size: x-small;"> I have struggled with my weight since I can remember. At my heaviest, I weighed in at 225 pounds. I labeled myself 'the fat girl'. I felt shame and guilt. I felt like a complete stranger. I felt safe. Yes, you read that right. I hid within myself. I thought that society would not only label me 'fat', but expect nothing from me. My self dialogue would go something like this, "oh, you're just a fat girl, no one expects anything from you. You are worthless and no good. They won't pay any attention to YOU!". I had, in a sense, created my own prison. No one could get in, but I felt like there was no way out. That false sense of security began to smother me. Since my 225 pound weigh in, I have lost a lot of weight, and gained back a lot of weight. I would eat to punish myself. I would eat to comfort myself. I would eat to reward myself. I had developed an emotional relationship with food, and it was TOXIC! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"> Speaking of poison, my negative 'self talker' also led me to believe that I was not capable of achieving goals. She told me I was a quitter. That I had no drive. That I may as well stop dreaming because I was incapable of following through. As a result, I did stop dreaming...I was at a lonely and desperate stand still. But I wasn't alone. God has a way of placing certain people in your life exactly at the moment you need them. And he was working through my coach the day she reached out and asked me a simple question, "How are you". And truly, those three words changed the course of my life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"> In May of this year I accepted a challenge. I signed up for a beachbody challenge. Turbofire to be exact. Was I nervous, you bet. I was down right scared. My negative 'self talker' was on a roll..."what on earth do you think you are doing? You don't have the money for this. You are crazy. You know you never finish anything. You complain everyday that your back hurts, that you are too tired, that life is too difficult, that you are too busy. What a waste!". Too late now...I ordered it...my latest 'failure' was already on its way. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"> And come it did. In a bright blue box stating in huge white letters 'Let's Do This!'. Key word, LET'S! I quickly came to realize that between my turbofire program, my coach, my fellow challenge members and the access to my beachbody account...I had a whole team behind me. The only thing standing in my way was my negative self-talker...the only thing standing in my way, was ME! So I thought I would try something new. I would silence that bossy negative voice in my head. I would ignore her. I would silence her until I could change her mind. And I simply, began. I pressed play. I posted in my challenge group. I became accountable. I listened to my coach. I drank my Shakeology every single day. And then I pressed play again...and again. Today, I finished my first ever beachbody challenge. I, Tina Pelletier the self-proclaimed failure, finished 12 weeks of a challenge! Today, I became a goal achiever. You see, I discovered throughout this journey that it wasn't that I couldn't accomplish my goals. I had learned that I had no idea how to set a goal and I have never felt like I had the support and the means, the map, to follow through and achieve it. Today, I am 28 pounds lighter. Today I feel like I can accomplish ANYTHING that I set out to do. Today, I know how to set a goal and seek out the skills I need in order to see it through. Today, I realize that food is not my friend, but it is also not my enemy. Today, I received another blue box in the mail. Tomorrow, I start Insanity! Insane? Absolutely! But I know now that I can do difficult things.</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05140419514944086638noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6697223982425983272.post-2825149315251672042013-04-23T18:56:00.001-07:002013-04-23T18:56:39.231-07:00Behind the Curtain While driving the other day something was brought to my attention. When I am behind the wheel, I am fully engaged in the task. I am paying attention. I am present. Don't get me wrong, I realize that once in awhile I am on auto-pilot but for the most part I am living in the here and now. I check-in with the status of my vehicle making sure that everything is in order and working properly. Does the vehicle have sufficient gas for the journey, are the lights working, engine running, seat belts on? I will continue to check-in throughout our drive. How's my speed, checking mirrors, how are the kid(s). But more importantly while driving, it is essential that I am aware of, and responding to what is happening outside of my own vehicle and its surroundings. I must pay attention to (in no particular order) the roads (including its potholes the size of craters), construction, pedestrians, bicycles, other vehicles and drivers, the elements, the signals. We must pay attention to the signs. What if, when we were not in our vehicles we decided to enforce the same discipline, engage the same rules? What if we heightened our senses and decided to become more aware of the signs? What would happen if we connected and reacted with others like we do when we are behind the wheel? What if we were fully aware of one another? Paying attention to movements, gestures, looked one another in the eye, made way, worked in harmony. Became present.<br />
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That brought me to thinking about smoke and mirrors. How we present ourselves. How we allow others to see us. How we <em>want</em> others to see us. How we present ourselves to the world. Many of us have not only built walls, we have created an 'alter ego' of sorts. The person that we present to the world, to 'the show'. Kind of like the Wizard in 'The Wizard of Oz'. When Dorothy, the Scarecrow, Tin man and Cowardly Lion get their first glimpse of the Wizard he presents himself as the awe inspiring, larger than life, completely unapproachable great and powerful Wizard of Oz. They are so distracted by his 'show' (smoke and mirrors) that they are completely unaware of their surroundings. It is Toto the dog who finally pulls at the curtain to unveil the real, very human individual who demands they "<em>PAY NO ATTENTION TO THE MAN BEHIND THE CURTAIN</em>!". And well, you know the rest. Turns out it is the man, not the Wizard who has the real gifts to offer.<br />
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What if we allowed others behind the curtain? What if we just tore them down? What if we allowed people in. What if we actually saw one another? What if we came out from behind the curtain?<br />
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If we are not mindful we will find ourselves completely consumed by the attempt to keep our 'alter ego' <em>look at me I have everything together</em> appearance, in order. If we are distracted by the smoke and mirrors we are missing what may really be going on in our lives. If we could kick down those walls and tear down those curtains maybe we could really see one another. We could share our gifts and lift each other up. Perhaps even discover that we already are living over the rainbow.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05140419514944086638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6697223982425983272.post-41641800872437894942013-01-23T12:47:00.001-08:002013-01-23T12:47:35.421-08:00Hot cross buns<p>It is cold! It is -15 cold here in Windsor Ontario.  I am sitting on my couch with two long sleeve shirts on, a wool toque, two pairs of socks, sweat pants and mocassins sipping on spicy hot chocolate.  Jesse and I just returned from iceskating outdoors...brrrrr.  Turns out, I STILL do not appreciate winter.  I LOVE being Canadian.  I HATE being cold.  I am one of those cold hands (and feet) warm heart kinda girls.  My hands are ALWAYS freezing.  Being outside in the cold makes them beyond feeling.  Even my bum is freezing right now!  I should invent a couch with heated seats.  You know, like heated car seats...ahhhhh I can feel it now.  Or maybe I'll just hibernate.  Stay warm friends.</p>
<div class='separator' style='clear: both; text-align: center;'> <a href='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-KfE1bc_JHmk/UQBMZc9wgnI/AAAAAAAAAFI/27RF77mzF1A/s1600/IMG_20130110_203359.jpg' imageanchor='1' style='margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;'> <img border='0' src='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-KfE1bc_JHmk/UQBMZc9wgnI/AAAAAAAAAFI/27RF77mzF1A/s640/IMG_20130110_203359.jpg' /> </a> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05140419514944086638noreply@blogger.com0Walkerville, Windsor42.31354 -83.00928tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6697223982425983272.post-84926085071479838172012-11-01T08:36:00.001-07:002012-11-01T08:36:20.225-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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As I sit here writing to you, I am sipping tea from a mug. But not just any tea, green tea that I bought from a specialty store...I drove there for the sole purpose of buying tea...for myself. Oh, we've only just begun! The special steam billows not from just any mug, the aroma floats from my very own special mug. I bought just one mug...just for me. Why make an event out of such a mundane task you ask? Simple...it makes me feel special. I am sitting here feeling special because I did something for MYSELF that makes me feel that way. Let's face it, if we can't find the time to do special things for ourselves, who else will?<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-z9mbCwA1Kpc/UI6ScPNJaHI/AAAAAAAAAEA/PGgRi8bW1so/s1600/P7210028_01.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-z9mbCwA1Kpc/UI6ScPNJaHI/AAAAAAAAAEA/PGgRi8bW1so/s320/P7210028_01.JPG" width="240" /></a>Allow me to rewind. I am a woman who is also a mother...kind of a double whammy. When I wake up every morning to the sound of the alarm, before my feet have the opportunity to hit the floor, my mind races and is already thinking and focused on someone other than myself. That's right, before I even know how I may be feeling my concern is already focused onto someone else. As many women and moms can surely attest, our days are filled and often over-flowing with putting others first. Our children come first, as do our partners, our neighbours, co-workers, bosses, sisters, mothers, fathers, dogs previous owners Aunt Lucy...you guessed it...you name it...they come first. And after a long day of all of those firsts, who's got time for seconds? Sooooooo, where does that leave us? I have days where I feel I have been left in the gutter...those days when you feel like you have been spit at, stepped on, looked over, tossed aside, chewed, screwed and bbq'd! And our day has only just begun! Then we are expected to pick up the kids and arrive home spat splattered with a smile on our face looking fresh and ready to prepare a fabulous meal while initiating stimulating and pleasant conversation over our neatly and creatively set dinner table. Huh? Some days I feel like I can armour my way through an entire day without even one person looking into my eyes. Days when I long for just one person to look at me and ask me how I am doing...hmmm perhaps not, for I know that there are moments when if asked how I am, the flood gates of tears would surely burst. I fear, at times that I won't get out alive!<br />
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I stopped putting myself first a long time ago. So long ago, in fact, that I don't know how to even do it anymore. That's okay though. Baby steps, right! I am learning how to, at the very least, make sure that I make the list. Not only do others get the best of me, more times than not they get all of me. So I have decided to reincorporate ME back into my life. I have decided to start small because BIG seemed over indulgent and wasteful and made me feel overwhelmed and guilty...really...really? I have decided it is time to start saying yes to myself once in awhile. Make yourself a nice tea in a special mug, buy that vintage wine just because, draw yourself a tub and wrap yourself in a fluffy new housecoat, buy that cute jacket that you've had your eyes on ...just...because. Every single time you say yes to yourself you are telling yourself that you are worth it. Every time I chose to say yes, the more special I feel. And something miraculous is happening...it is working! These acts of kindness towards myself may seem small and silly to some but I am really starting to get to know myself again. That old saying that we teach others how to treat ourselves is so true. I have discovered that others are beginning to take notice of my new found self worth and they want to make me feel special too. This special attention to myself has really opened my eyes. When I do special acts of kindness for myself I am discovering that it is much easier to pay it forward. I no longer have feelings of giving solely out of obligation. In finding more room for me, I have found more room in my heart for others. Say yes to yourself once in awhile. I dare you! I know that you too will discover that you are worth it. Because you are! <br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05140419514944086638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6697223982425983272.post-46957813648992908512012-10-04T08:22:00.000-07:002012-10-04T08:22:09.676-07:00The Sweet Surrender<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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I love music. I have listened to, danced with and sang along to music everyday for as long as I can remember. I can still close my eyes and in an instant be flipping through my mother's record collection. I loved that sound...flip, Fleetwood Mac's Rumors, flip, Van Morrison's Moondance, flip...and the smell of a new record being pulled from its sleeve...how the vellum would stick to the record as you slipped it from its case. I can get lost in the sounds, the words, the meaning, and the dancing...miles and miles of dancing. Music means A LOT to me. So naturally I have a collection of music that has carried me through well, my life.<br />
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It seems that I have passed this appreciation to my son. When I was pregnant with Jess I would blast music in the apartment and dance and sing while I rubbed my belly. Now WE listen to music everyday. Jess and I have living room 'dance party date nights' which include singing at the top of our lungs, daring acrobatics and lots of laughter as we test some 'new moves'. I can retrieve most of my fondest memories in the sound of a single note. Turns out, music has taught me one of <strong>the</strong> most important lessons on parenting...to surrender.<br />
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That's right folks I now proudly wave the universal parenting flag of white. Alright, so some days it is more of a frantic, exhausted and defeated wiggle of the 'giving in' to a hostile take over...I surrender!<br />
Prior to becoming a Mother I was a fanatic when it came to my CD's. Do you remember that Friends episode, 'The one where Joey doesn't share food'? I was like that with my CD's (and my food, but more on that later). No, I will not lend you this CD! You can listen to it here. If you feel the need to peruse my music, handle the CD properly! And DO NOT put the wrong CD in the wrong case...I may ask you to leave.<br />
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The other day Jess and my niece are listening to music and a stack of CD's (not put back in their case) cascades from the shelf...ffffffftttttttt...down they go all over the floor. Now, don't get me wrong, I did sweat a bit and run over to pick them up...but I didn't have to demand they vacate the property. See? Growth. I am now a mom to a sticky fingered, music lovin', five year old AND finger printed music. Jesse has taught me not to sweat the small stuff. It isn't always easy though. In fact, sometimes it's even down right painful. Change=growing pains.<br />
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To surrender means, ' to yield (something) to the possession or power of another'. And to yield is to 'give way'. This does not mean that I always give Jess his way. But it has allowed me to step back. To get outside of myself. To live in the moment. To forget my 'rules'...and well...let love rule.<br />
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My love for Jess was unconditional the moment I discovered I was pregnant. I am still learning to give up power, to 'give way', to yield. Sometimes I have to surrender ten times a day. But each time I do...well, those are the moments of growth. I strive everyday to be a better mom. To master the skill of unconditional surrender. To allow possibility. Oh and how I have discovered, that is where all the good stuff lives...the treasure lies buried within ...the sweet surrender.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05140419514944086638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6697223982425983272.post-37522566071413723482012-09-27T11:33:00.000-07:002012-09-27T11:33:47.784-07:00Will Work for Food<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This September has been a month for new beginnings. My six year old son is finding his place and routine in his grade one class. He had a rough second week at school. Grade one is such an adjustment! Slowly but surely he is feeling more grounded in his new surroundings and routine. He looked up at me last week and said, "I just need to face my fears Momma'. I have been a stay at home mom for the past six years and am now finding myself on uncharted territory as I seek employment for the first time since he was born. I have my resume and cover letter together and have sent out many on-line applications and have just started to hit the streets shaking hands and handing out resumes. I am learning so much from my son. I am so proud of him and once again he is teaching me lessons. I also must face my fears. But what exactly am I afraid of? I know that I am a hard worker and would be an asset to any company. Change doesn't scare me. I am wide open to change. I have had my fair share of life altering 'changes'. New beginnings? I like to think that I have successfully lived through many of those. I have come to the conclusion that what fills me with fear is the blank space that fills the page from 2006 until 'present'. Why do I feel such shame in the fact that I haven't been 'working' for the past six years. I wish that I could type exactly what I have been doing. I would tell potential employers that I am a mother. That my life has been one huge multi-tasking chaotic roller coaster straight out of the gate, but that I have accomplished more in the past six years than I have collectively my whole life(with a smile on my face to boot). I have been accomplishing goals for two people. I would tell them that I have had to deal with a lot of disappointment and fears but I have persevered. I wish that my resume could show a picture of my son and I. That they could see the love between us. The selflessness that parenting takes. The courage it takes to do this alone. I wish that my potential boss could see the house that I've made a home. That they could see on paper how comfortable I can make people feel. That I am a great listener and that being a parent has taught me a great deal of patience and compassion. The blank space on my resume doesn't allow my potential employer to see that I can make quick decisions while staying calm, cool and collected. And that I can deal with the consequences of my decision making. They cannot tell from the words and dates written on the pages of a resume that I have wanted to give up many times but have pulled myself up and told myself that I will never, ever give up. For the past six years I have been busy raising a human being. And by raising I don't just mean providing food and shelter. I have been working hard to actually try and RAISE up my son. I try to let him know everyday how wonderful he is and how his life matters to this world. That he can make a difference. That he is special and wonderful in every way. Talk about a challenge! I wish that my resume could include the fact that I am an optimist who chooses daily to see and focus on the positive. The past years have been filled with non stop action and a tremendous amount of success. Alas, non of these things will show up on my resume, but they are engraved in my heart and written all over my face.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05140419514944086638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6697223982425983272.post-54378630834551984502012-09-22T15:41:00.000-07:002012-09-22T15:41:43.844-07:00Turn the other cheekI am learning everyday. The phrase 'Turn the other cheek' used to confuse me. But I am beginning to wrap my heart around it. I am coming to terms with the idea that not everyone has the same ideals, the same faith, the same moral code. I will be attacked from time to time. I am a recovering people pleaser. If someone says something against me, in the past, I would fight to make it right. But what exactly had I been fighting for? The fear of rejection? The stain on a reputation? The acceptance of someone who can't accept? My foundation is cemented in my faith. Deciding to turn the other cheek strongly reminds me that we are all on our own path. I refuse to throw stones on someone else's walk. I will plant some seed, and walk the path that I have chosen. I pray everyday that it is the path that Christ leads me through. I want my eyes and ears and heart to be open. I want to share my journey with loving hearts who also wander. One of the most difficult lessons of life for me has been that you cannot walk down another's path. I have found myself desperately planting seed, tilling soil, and cutting vines to help the sun shine upon another's walk. I surrender that to God now. Often times faith means closing your eyes and opening your heart. My hand will still reach out to others who also feel that they are lost in hope that they will find some comfort and peace. I wish that I could hold the hand of my enemy as I turn the other cheek. My God wants me that way. There is an enormous wealth of peace in such a simple offering. In the past I considered my inability to deal with confrontation as a sign of weakness. I despised my shaking voice while under attack. But I do have a voice. It is led by my heart which beats to the rhythm of <strong>MY</strong> path. My heart aches, but it still beats. I will turn the other cheek. That is where my sun is.<a data-mce-href="http://tinafrances.wordpress.com/2012/07/08/turn-the-other-cheek/scan0004/" href="http://tinafrances.wordpress.com/2012/07/08/turn-the-other-cheek/scan0004/" rel="attachment wp-att-177"><img alt="" class="aligncenter size-medium wp-image-177" data-mce-src="http://tinafrances.files.wordpress.com/2012/07/scan0004.jpg?w=300" height="295" src="http://tinafrances.files.wordpress.com/2012/07/scan0004.jpg?w=300" title="Surrender" width="300" /></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05140419514944086638noreply@blogger.com0