Support

"And some days I forget what it is to be gentle with myself- how to look at myself with kind eyes and speak to myself with soft words. Forget that I am my home and a temple worthy of worship". Becca Lee. 

Being drawn outside just after dusk by the warm breeze on one of the few remaining nights of summer, I was reminded how much I love the gentle wind. It has a mystical quality for me and a  presence that could only come from knowing her power and the support she offers all of the elements of the earth. The wind makes things come alive and creates an orchestra of rustling leaves. Its gentle contact with everything it touches feels like support, a way of helping to clear away what is no longer needed and awaken the senses of all living things to do the same. It is like a whisper of assurance that it is clearing away the heavy.  The wind allows me to feel my edges and begin to soften them. As I stand there with my eyes closed, feeling the cleansing and clarifying effects, my senses are enlivened with a feeling of empowerment, and with that comes a confidence that I can give this same quality of support to myself.

In the early weeks of the new school year, we are learning all the ways that our students need to be supported and figuring out how we will put those supports in place. At the tender age of four or five, the supports they need vary and most of them are completely unaware of what they are.  Some need the support of routine and predictability. Others need the concrete support of help with getting coats and shoes on and off. Many need the support of a calming environment or presence.  There are those that require visual schedules and reassurance that they will see their loved ones soon. Again others need support finding the playground, turning on the tap, reaching the smart board,  making a friend, locating the gym, asking for help, or choosing an activity.  Whatever it may be, I have yet to have a student that didn't require some form of support even if it is just encouragement to try new things. This support offered is so crucial to their success in and out of school with one of the end goals being, having our students understand and be able to be a support to themselves as well.   The need for external support from a good connection probably never ends but it is like a recipe you use again and again because it supports you in creating the delicious cake each time. This is only one part of the process, you also have to be skilled in being able to carry out the necessary steps to be happy with the result.   We all need to be able to regulate and be mindful of what our mind or body needs for support. Only then can we find what that support will look like for us.  This is why the practice of mindfulness can be so powerful even at a young age. It can make a child understand how to self-regulate through big emotions, and use breathing techniques to support them through frustration or anxiety.  If we are going to be able to support young people in doing this for themselves then we also need to be able to support ourselves as well and model this in our interactions and our own lives. 

 Support is different than self-care as it is not equated with a monetary or material value or commodity. Like so many things that become a trend, there are messages everywhere telling us what we need to care for ourselves.    With support, we don't have to see it as something extra we need to do for ourselves like a practice of caring for something or offering ourselves things to improve or better our performance or lives.   Support is not a separate entity. When we talk about support, it is something we embody and it comes from our deep center, a place we access when we are still and listening in a different way.  We find what we need and that knowledge comes from listening deeply when our mind is balanced with our heart.  In this space, we learn how things feel and get digested by the body instead of our mind sending unknown or unfamiliar messages to the body from the mind. There is no upper case self that needs to be cared for. Support just needs our attention on all the ways we are already being held physically and emotionally beyond the expectations we may have of others or the ones we have of ourselves to provide that support to someone else.   The place we go in nature that makes us feel held, the words or affirmations we speak when faced with a challenge or difficult task when we walk away from an argument or a relationship. The support we give ourselves to be alright with an outcome. We support ourselves with good decisions, surround ourselves with people that feel good, bring calm or feel like a cheer squad.   We support ourselves when we give ourselves permission to cry, mess up, and get angry, when we show ourselves empathy and compassion and when we make room for connection that uplifts. Support is still having that glass of water we need or the long walk after work but not because we are told it is good for us but because we feel into ourselves and listen to what our own body or mind needs.   Support looks like love and acceptance of ourselves too not just others.  It is showing up for ourselves on all the days,  supporting with breath, movement, routines, rituals, celebration, and ceremony.  We support our own healing and growth with intention and practice.  Our support system is our way to help ourselves thrive and the people who are thriving are those who have and are continually creating supports for themselves by just asking the simple question, how can I support myself today, at this moment? What do I need to be supported in my work, and my relationships, and how can I offer this to myself right now?  This small act creates people capable of not only supporting themselves but also those around them.  When we don't know what we need to be supported or look to others to do it all for us, we abandon ourselves. It can start as a small chipping away at our own systems of support when we don't listen to what our bodies need, how we need to express ourselves or show up, knowing what boundaries we need and who we need in our lives to feel supported.  

When we begin the journey of offering support to ourselves for the first time,  we can start with encouraging words or affirmations, start by trusting ourselves, and notice what lifts us up or deflates us. We can incorporate gratitude for the existing things we are already doing that support us like the food we eat that is nourishing to the body, the soft pillow we place under our head for sleep, the healthy routines and connections we have already established, and the restorative practices that we may be able to begin to incorporate a little bit at a time.  then just like the small people in our lives, we can let go of the hand we may be holding that we think is our buoy and like the wind, levy our own power to keep supporting ourselves in what this moment is asking of us now.  

Choosing A Direction

 

“Let the path become where I choose to walk, and not otherwise established." Mary Oliver

I was fourteen years old and visiting New York City for the first time. This day was the tour of the Statue of Liberty.  I started up the stairs in single file with my friends in front and behind and a thousand other tourists following suit.  In the beginning, I was able to see the top of the statue above and the skyline all around but as the stairs narrowed and I headed closer to the top enclosure, I looked back to only see a sea of faces blocking my view of where I had come. When I looked toward the viewing station and the head of the statue, I could only see the people waiting in front. The realization of being stuck in this blind spot settled over me and I filled with panic.  This meant heart racing, breath becoming short and rapid, and thoughts of being trapped escalating.   Forgetting those I had come with or the swarms of people enclosing me,  I began creating a commotion as I started to change directions and move back down the stairs. Being five foot three inches tall, I said excuse me and sorry to the armpits of most that I maneuvered clumsily past.  It felt like I was outside of my body and I don't actually remember reaching the bottom or how long it took for me to come back into it.  I just remember the challenge of changing direction, of being stuck and feeling panicked in this perceived blind spot created by the endless stream of bodies in front and behind and feeling swept into moving forward. This experience could have been chalked up to the realization  I was claustrophobic, and experiencing what a panic attack was but looking back there was also the understanding that at that moment I was stuck in the thought that there were no options after choosing to follow this narrowing path and all opportunities to choose differently were swallowed into the limiting choice I had made of following this focused stairway.

Preparing to get in my kayak recently and launch off into the Nashwaak river, I noticed a large dragonfly that had made itself comfortable on the front of my boat and did not seem phased by the jostling about I was creating by stepping inside.  I was in no hurry so sat and watched this ancient creature that has outlived dinosaurs, studying the details of its delicate double wings and the intricate design of each. This tiny creature has always been a favorite of mine. To me more endearing than the butterfly.  I think if having a spirit animal is a thing, mine would definitely be this winged wonder. The dragonfly is immersed in symbolism.  All around the world, there is agreement that the dragonfly symbolizes transformation and adaptability. It can be seen as a  reminder to shed more light and joy in your life.  If the symbolism is not enough for you too to be in awe of this angelic creature, the fact that dragonflies have nearly three hundred and sixty-degree vision with only one tiny blind spot, directly behind their head or the fact that they can fly in any direction, is sure to catch your attention. Their resilience comes from their ability to choose a direction to fly; back, forward, down, up, left, and right, all the while reaping the reward of finding their prey or the opportunity of nourishment all around them, regardless of which direction they head. The physiological blind spot they have is the place in the visual field that corresponds to the lack of light-detecting photoreceptor cells on the optic disc of the retina.  As a consequence of having no cells detecting light, the corresponding part of the field is invisible. Having a  blind spot, a field not visible to us can impede our ability to see an opportunity or the advantage of choosing a direction to  begin to follow and as a result, the other paths that may converge here but for the dragonfly, this is such a small field of darkness,  it seems inconsequential to their thriving. 

After many conversations with my daughter this week discussing fears and apprehension about choosing the direction or path of the university degree she is working towards, and her thought that she may be limiting her options by engaging in such a focused program, possibly missing out on exploring other passions and maybe, as a result, leaving behind opportunity with one wrong choice, I recognized this narrative as such a common one that people often get drowned in. It can flow into many of the directions and paths we take in life and does not only pertain to choosing a career.   In wanting to be honest with Grace and myself, I reflected on my own experiences of moving in new directions, narrowing my focus of learning on my own path of choosing to become a  teacher.   When   I finished my bachelor of arts degree and started working as a support worker for a non-profit in Fredericton, I was enjoying working with young people and supporting them in difficult situations,  but it became clear that this was not somewhere that I was thriving so I decided to go back to school.  Education seemed like the most relatable field to what my experiences had been working so I chose to enroll in this program. I could have curated the narrative that I chose to be an educator because my grandmother was also a teacher, as she was,  that my passion for this career path was unshakeable and I had no doubts or reservations but this would have been untrue. I have not known many, myself included, who chose a path that worked for them with doubt-free conviction, and when they chose that path that did not mean that this was the end of opportunity but rather it was the step that led to making space for many more, as was the case for me. If I had not chosen to become a teacher, I may not have explored all of my own creative outlets.  It is quite possible that I would not have been led to become a yoga practitioner and instructor which has helped me live with more ease and resilience. I know I would not have been as equipped for my unique path as a parent or been afforded the flexibility with my work-life balance. There will be so many opportunities to use our gifts to serve, grow, and transform in this long life, and not all will pertain to our career.  But for those that do, it is important to consider that for some a career path starts as a passion and helps us create a life, for others the direction we choose starts us on a path of creating a life full of passion. Both begin with choosing a direction and are not limited by the narrowing of focus. Each direction may work and when they don't we can climb down without apology, find our way back into embodying ourselves, and like the dragonfly, adapt, transform, choose another direction to take flight that will nourish our life-giving force and minimize the blind spot that may be dimming our light and making the fields of opportunity invisible to us. Maybe then, our own path can also serve as a reminder to others that the right direction for each of us is one that leads us to the discovery of our light and helps us to embody the joy that lives there.   

Listening

 "You see pain with your eyes, but you sympathize with your ears. Sometimes the greatest way to serve someone is just by listening. Behind every need is a story"  Rick Warren

I could hear singing coming from Maya's room a few moments after hearing her doing her nightly goodnight to the caricature of her favorite Educational Assistant and friend on the wall as she lay in her bed.   As I was brushing my teeth, the song she was singing registered as a result of a familiar chorus," Que sera sera",  lyrics that she has used many times before in a patterned script as her neurodiverse self often does when she really likes a song, dialogue or is working through a feeling or thought that fits with the words.  No sooner had the lyric clicked for me, than she was asking me to join in a duet and so we sang, "When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother what will I be? Will I be pretty? Will I be rich? Here's was she said to me, Que sera, sera, whatever will be will be, the future's not ours to see, Que sera sera." I stayed in the bathroom as we sang, and the lyrics seemed to split easefully between us as I did one part and when I paused she finished the line.  She was giggling throughout and then when her part started to fade, I stopped singing.  I thought I had been listening to her, engaging as she had asked and I  felt good about the moment we shared but it wasn't until she was asleep that I really heard her and what she was actually saying to me if I was really listening.

The Kindergarten year begins in a few short days and as I sifted through what to take with me from years past, things that worked or saw success and things I would leave behind because they either don't make sense anymore or they are tired and don't fit with new philosophies or my own growth as an educator, I was thinking about the concept of whole body listening.   This has been a staple that I have modeled and mentored for many years.  Listening with not only our ears but all of our bodies and senses.  Talking to them about what a listener might look or sound like.  We practice little moments of listening as moving, playing, and socializing are the majority of the skills most needed for our tasks but in those moments of practice, listening gains more collateral with them. They start to see how it makes them feel when someone is whole body listening as they share their show and tell when they offer news about their weekend or their night at home, what made them sad, or happy, or their problem on the playground,  or at the coat rack. When they were proud of the items in their lunch box or just needed to request a hug or a band-aid for their bug bite.  Some even begin to feel empowered to point out when they don't feel someone in the group is listening and they tell them to put their eyes on them or they may say they will wait until one of their classmates stops talking before they share. 

I feel like I have been working on my own listening skills over many years, clearing my own thoughts, and opening my heart and my mind over and over again. Listening to others to learn from them on podcasts and other platforms, asking difficult questions, and listening to heartfelt responses,  and somehow it makes sense that I will be continuing to do so as long as I am a living breathing social being.   Listening is such a complex skill that we all need and yet only we know if we are really able to hear what is being communicated to us.  Sometimes the message is the words spoken, sometimes the message lies behind the words. Sometimes we listen to a message that is difficult to hear but has something to teach us about ourselves. Maybe just in our reaction to the message.  Other times the words are sending a message we need to hear but are not ready for just yet. We often listen to respond to others.  Sometimes the message we need to hear is our own.  We need to listen to our bodies and our hearts.  This kind of listening may help us with an underlying message.  If our bodies are sick, we may need to hear that we are too stressed, or the food we are eating is not nourishing us.  If our hearts are heavy, we may need to hear the grief we have been ignoring or the anger that is lingering from unresolved conflict.    In most cases, listening is beyond the words or phrases being said by others or ourselves.

In the past weeks, I have noticed myself wanting to be listened to. I have wanted to share ideas and solutions I have to recent difficulties and see if they resonate or make sense. I have wanted to voice my concern for injustices and ways others are being excluded or need to be included.  I have wanted to suggest a different way forward or ask for help in realizing a solution to a bigger problem. All of these things related to my own personal life and experiences but realizing for this to happen I needed to risk not being heard and maybe just being alright with formulating and hearing aloud my own needs as words being strung together, spoken or written.  With some, I have chosen carefully what to say and the wording for clarity. With others, I have shared and bared it all with lots of emotion and urgency. And still more, I was calculating what to write or say and who I hoped would hear my message. I can say that with the responses I received I felt very heard.  One dear friend sat across the table from me and didn't move a muscle in her body. Her eyes were on me the entire time and she didn't try to interject or relate to what I was telling her. She was just open-hearted and listened.  Another, humbled me with the time, care, and respect she formulated with her written response to my long convoluted email. Her words were like butter dripping over popcorn and soaking me in the buttery goodness of her sweet soul's intention to make me feel heard and understood.  Another, was very direct and inquisitive, from a person in a position to make a  difference, and a meeting was arranged to talk about needs, solutions, and desires to clarify how they could help.  And still, another, allowed me to essentially rant across the phone lines and then thanked me for offering her insight into the situation I painted with my big brush.   It made me curious as to what I was afraid of in relation to asking for help in the ways I was needing.  Many of us are those do-it-yourselfers who see asking to be heard or listened to as saying I can't do it alone and this makes me flawed somehow and maybe this is not the message we want others to hear.  I can say from repeated experience,  that what others actually hear, is your willingness to ask for what you need,  you valuing what you have to say enough to not to be inhibited by how others may receive your words, and in this, they see you as one of the people brave enough to communicate the core of you, your truth and they will not only listen to you but will offer you the privilege of this same connection by asking you to listen and hear them as well.

Maya inviting me to sing the lyrics of "Que sera sera" a few nights ago was not random.  She had been witnessing and listening to my words, my body language, and my silence that day.  After she fell asleep that night, what I finally heard her saying in those lyrics meant for me, between and beyond them was this, "Mom, it's ok. You don't need to have this all figured out today, tonight, or ever.  We can't see the future, we can't control it, but we can accept that, "whatever will be will be".   

I am reminding myself to listen with the same passion with which I wish to be heard, in the words of Harriet Learner and as I start a new day tomorrow before I lift my head from my pillow, I will place my hands on my head, then my heart and my core and I will listen with compassion for what is meant to be heard and with this same compassion and patience, I will prepare to be open to hearing all that is being said by those around me and then this time, as my husband walks up the driveway after parking the car and Maya stands by the window watching and singing, "Here comes the sun, doo, doo, doo Here comes the sun and I say it's alright doo, doo doo. I will have the pleasure to hear the first time round, Dad is home, my sunshine, and my light and that makes everything alright" and I will smile to myself and to her and we will share in the joy of listening and being heard.

Transitions

 "I am breathing deep and finding peace in the in-betweens" -Morgan Harper Nichols

When he stepped down off the platform from the plane,  his feet landed on solid ground, and he walked briskly towards us, I could feel everyone's collective exhale. Mark's brother, Carl, was finally here in person after seven years of weekend calls, face times, and cards, we got to see his infectious smile and embrace him in a hug. My only task was to document the forty-eight hours he was with us. I started out strong, as one does with five photos at the airport and two or three back at our house as he curled into the sunshine on our back deck and made his way in for a swim.  As I prepared to send a couple of these photos to his family in Vancouver to assure them he had arrived safely, I had a bitter-sweet feeling in the pit of my stomach. Knowing that we would be sending him off now in a couple of sleeps to the next leg of his adventure, I was consciously aware of what a transition this was going to be.

This was only one of the many transitions that seemed to sandwich us all in the in-between.  As we all near the end of summer transition, holidays, possible work hour shifts and locations,  new schools and learning situations or transitional years to new careers, or in the case of our youngest daughter, the continued transition to what I have previously referred to as a transition to life.  This summer I gave myself the role of Captain of the transition ship. Hiring, planning, executing schedules, activities, summer camp opportunities, and learning.  It was a huge transition to learning new things for myself that came with a lot of failures and adjusting our sails in another direction.  Now the transitioning needed to be to something more concrete, structured, and overseen by the village, I had been encouraged to believe in for the past several years of schooling.  For a few weeks now, posting ads for a personal support worker, and approaching both the job training facilities in our area for options, we met many dead ends and roadblocks.  Realizing why this transition was bearing more weight was the reality that there was nothing to catch us on the other side of this leap. Maybe you too are in a transition with a similar feeling. 

A transition is defined as the process or a period of changing from one state or condition to another.  If this is true then a transition lands us between an ending and a beginning. It is a process that may require letting go of one place or thing to open space for a new destination or experience. This must also mean that possibilities live and breathe in transitions. Possibilities to uncover solutions, possibilities for growth, new ideas, and ways of seeing old routines and patterns. Possibilities for new approaches, changing directions, mindfulness, and expansion. Like the temporary tattoo I had recently been gifted, in the transition, we have the ability to try on a new scenario without fully committing to the direction or destination.  This had me contemplating that we are all experiencing or in the process of one transition or another and in which case how we approach this transition can open us to possibilities not yet considered and this is where our life is lived, in the space between real or imagined destinations.  

As the sun transitions further away from the earth right now, we begin to feel the effects of this process with cooling temperatures, changes in the color of the sky, and darkness moving in earlier. The sun going through this transition does not move back or cling to its last position or anticipate its next for the Fall/Winter seasons but just continues to change its axis tilt ever so slightly, each day that presents itself.  We too are transitioning at this time of year to schools,  schedules, seasons, and relationships. Some of us are even transitioning from one plane of consciousness, thought, or opinion to another.  

One place that continues to challenge me to more fully understand and become comfortable with transitions is my yoga practice.  We are often focused on our mat, on the next pose, our mind may begin to create stories about how challenging it may be or whether we will succeed or fail. These poses become the destination we are seeking like in life.  However, the real practice and benefit of yoga comes when we bring our attention to the process, the transitions. When we can see the transitions on or off the mat as the journey, we can see how each pose or life step we take or do not, supports the next pose or in life, the next destination.  Journeying with this presence brings awareness that it's not about the shapes we can make or where the next step takes us. The fluidity, flow, and movement that happens throughout are actually as important or more so. It has the power to actually change, or improve the destination with this kind of presence of mind.  If we are living in this middle space, the between, then we can create a space here for things to become part of a destination that others may not ever have had the courage to dream possible, remembering that possibilities get lost when we are only destination driven.   If we stay focused on destinations, we can risk being swallowed by the fear of them and the limitations of seeing them through the eyes of those who have transitioned here before.  I often think of the example of the "back to school" when I think of a transition and listening to experts discuss this previously, the idea of there being no "back to" anything when transitioning makes so much sense. There is only going towards something new and taking the present moments with new students and new eyes in possible new directions and towards new destinations.  Children's days are jammed with transitions and as adults, parents, and teachers, it is our role to model ease and presence within the changes for them.  As well as offering an understanding that we don't have to go back to rigid scheduling, activities that don't feel right, rushing and being destination driven.  We can stay longer in the in-betweens, model mindful movement throughout our days and create schedules that support, flow and question or even challenge where we are headed, what we did before, and why. We can check in with how everyone is feeling about moving on, and protect the energy here in the middle, in the present. This is where quality of life is created. 

Like a good book, we can rush through all of the chapters to arrive and see how it ends or we can devour each word, contemplate phrases, develop images of characters, and hang in the sweetness of this space as we move through. We know we will arrive at the end of the book but let's arrive with all of the elements, emotions, and energy of life we breathed into the story with the help of the author. 

As for my own transitions. Carl is gone now and we are lingering here until everyone is ready to move on.  We are stretching out the experience and the feels.  For my other transitions and maybe for your own we can repeat the mantra at the beginning of my writing today to let go gently of the destinations, those given but not supported. Maybe there is some part of the process you are in that needs you to hold out hope for an easeful transition and just maybe you will also be part of creating a destination maybe not yet imagined by someone else.  For now, let's linger here where the fullness of life is. Moving, flowing, breathing, and adjusting our axis like the sun, a little more each day.

Birthday Reflection

"Those who find gratitude in the little things, find humility in the big things."  Lidia Logorio

 In preparation for the big day ahead, time and care were taken in braiding tiny braids tied with string all over my head. When unraveled my hair fell in tight waves just beyond my shoulders. Anticipation of friends from school and my current neighborhood, as well as a few that have kept in touch from my old home in Marysville, grows heavy.  When everyone has finally arrived, we head out on the back patio armed with the ghettoblaster prepared to play a mix of pop and 80s top hits.  The dance moves emerged as they do from a not-yet self-conscious teen, as my ten-year-old self extrapolates her best moves from square dancing learned in school, the new hitchhiker dance which ends up being a lot of thumb wagging and not much else and mostly endless hopping and jumping reminiscent of the Irish Rovers watched religiously on Sunday nights.  The dancing flare or uninhibited movement I am trying on is captured in a still frame in my mind that and when  I see it now, I am transported to my tenth birthday party like it was yesterday and at the same time, a lifetime ago.  

In a few days from writing this, I will celebrate my fifty-third birthday.  Fifty-three times around the sun, 27,856.800 minutes of living, adding another 365 days.   There may indeed be some dancing again, without any more advanced moves you can be assured but it remains a truth that I still feel the same exuberance for being alive and finding my way here to celebrate again.  The big party celebrations for birthdays were not the majority of the year's experience for me so maybe this is why this one stands out.   Birthdays have held no less important as the years pass but they have become something more sacred to share and reflect on.  I am sure, regardless of how much someone enjoys a party,  they can never be as invested in someone else's mortality so I like to sink into this solo. 

Ross Gay gave himself an invitation on his birthday to write, by hand, a daily delight. This collection spanning one year became a compilation of his favorite, titled, The Book of Delights.  Thank you Heidi Robbins for sharing this.    I have yet to read the book but was inspired by the idea, to go back to my own gratitude journal from the past year and select only one of the five items I list each night to create a year's life list.  It became a much more daunting task than I had anticipated. Some days there were only one or two-word descriptions; hot baths, podcasts, full moon, thrift finds, yoga Nidra, silence, tea advent, doing nothing, love, rest, replenish, snowy walk, cinnamon buns, foot rubs, my people. Other times, there was such detail that the words and memory came to land softly somewhere close like; getting lost in a book on a hammock, a sublime cup of tea with a heart-to-heart chat, sunshine with warmth still invested on a fall day, an amazing sunrise on a cool morning run, candles and conversation starters over supper, a laugh with my daughter about a pumpkin carving episode, a dear friends kind words and invested presence, a dragonfly lingering on the edge of my kayak.   I started to notice themes evolving in my list, places my attention continued to hug, and the people and things I wanted to savor.

The walks that scattered the pages to Odell, the Woodlot, the park by my house, walks with family, and friends, good talk walks, windy walks and walks sorting out thoughts, feelings, and next steps.  Oh, and the food that came off the pages with fall soups, market samosas and street pad thai, greek meals, pumpkin chocolate chip cookies, homemade pies with seasonal berries, Milda's pizza, vegan poutine from Dee's Quiet Cafe Food Truck, homemade cauliflower alfredo sauce,  and banana ice cream made by Grace are only a few of the edible delights enjoyed. Then there were the people; the students, the colleagues, the family, friends, strangers, and fur babies.  Their acts of kindness, their time, help, love, commitment, and presence.   

The word yoga was probably mentioned most days with the teaching of a class, a notable instructor, practice, mentor, meditation, thought or clarity that came with making space in my body. Besides walking I was grateful for all the ways I moved my body, especially after a previous year's injury, like biking, dancing, and swimming. Activities infused with passions like painting, writing, cooking, knitting, gardening, reading, and resting all waited to grace the list too.  Big events were few when I looked back and personal milestones were noteworthy but sparse as well. 

After this exercise of extracting one item from each day for the visual of my year,  I was struck by the fact that none of my worries, fears, concerns, or constraints were noted here. Neither was the heavy life news, the complaints, or supposed problems to solve.  I was not naive enough to think that there would ever be a year without them but recorded this way, my life looked more like a string of "tiny beautiful things", taken from the title of Cheryl Strayed book by the same name, that lived alongside and within all the other realities.   These were the things that may have been harder to find but so much more sound in creating a memorable year, a peaceful life.   The year I wanted to remember and take with me was marked by things I cared for and about. The many ways that grace found its way into my life and all the ordinary things that cut through illusion to bring light and understanding that life could be happening in this place and in these things, experiences, and people.  There is also such humility when light shines here.  We let so many things cloud our perception and perspective of how a life can be lived and loved even in the dimmer-shaded times that are part of our full experience. 

Feeling ever nostalgic for the past versions of me that have continued to witness and celebrate all of the tiny beautiful things, I am drawn to the lyrics of the Joni Mitchell song, she recently sang again at 73 years old after a brain tumor.  "Well something's lost but something's gained in living every day. I've looked at life from both sides now. From win and lose and still somehow. It's life's illusions I recall. I really don't know life at all". What I hear in this beautiful lyric is that the journey we are all on as we gather the years of life each time we pass the sun will always be full of the tiny beautiful things for us to bear witness to and experience in this human body we have through our senses and awareness. We will look at them through many lenses before we see the truth of them and over and over again we will be humbled by this life and the gift that it is.

I can't leave a birthday reflection without a wish for both you and me.  My wish is this, may our gratitude for all of the tiny beautiful things hold us, and may equanimity be our practice for all of the ways life unfolds.     

Shared Space

 "Pull up a chair, take a taste, come join us. Life is so endlessly delicious." Ruth Reichl

We found ourselves sharing space in the treehouse setting of our Airbnb.  My eyes startled open to the sound of a hooting owl during a moment of stillness on the deck.  Birds swooped into the hanging feeder full of dried corn, numerous chipmunks and squirrels scurried around the outdoor eating space, and butterflies settled on the wildflowers that reached the upper deck.   It was clear that we were not only in a  shared space with each other but it was as if the trees were whispering a welcome, the squirrels inviting us to adopt their playful nature, and the birds let us know they too belonged right here. This presence allowed us to witness how gently we can all exist on the earth together.  

Every year, my husband Mark and I trepidatiously embark on a two-night three-day getaway to a place where we can reconnect, be in the outdoors and share time and space together without interruption. This year we found ourselves at a beautiful hideaway just outside Fundy National Park in Alma.  Set high on a hill was a sacred oasis of comfort, luxury, and shared space with the natural world.  Even though we go with some hesitation, as only lifetime caregivers may relate, we ease into this time with no expectations and full appreciation for what a gift this is.   Time to share meals, conversation, laughter, bike rides, hikes, swims, and ease into the comfort of being able to be real and present with our hopes and intentions, a shared space that can't be taken for granted.  

If you live in this area you are sure to have visited the local pub/ coffee shop in Alma, situated near the end of the main street in a building that used to be a local church.  I am guessing that this is why the name  The Holy Whale was birthed.   This place became our touchstone over the few days we were there, swooping in for a quick Buddha Bear coffee for my husband, Mark, and then back later after full days of play, for Kombucha on the patio bar stools.  Coming back later in the day, we spotted a couple who had been there since our coffee heist and were still enjoying their time lingering on the patio and chatting. We shared a laugh about when I had left earlier and tried to get into a vehicle that was not my own but the same color as mine.   This happens to me regularly and I like to think I am not alone.   We settled on the bar stools in the corner close to the door and while Mark was getting our drink, I noticed a woman alone next to me having a glass of wine.  Being out of touch with sharing space with strangers in the last few years, I suppose I was closed to really seeing her and kept averting my eyes in the other direction to give her the space I assumed she wanted.   When Mark returned, she was finishing up her drink and was attempting to get down off of her very high stool, graciously.  Both the person sitting on the other side of her and my husband reached out to help steady her and the stool.  Just as she was about to embark, the waiter arrived with another drink for her which he proceeded to tell her was from the couple that I identified as the ones I shared a laugh with.   Both parties automatically began to help her get situated back on her stool while she thanked them and chuckled about what happens when you get older.  The opening was there now for conversation and it was clear she was happy to engage.  A moment later, a young man approached her calling her "Nana" and she proudly introduced him as her grandson who was visiting from Spain.  She had a good laugh about him coming to retrieve her from the bar and how her family was always worrying and looking out for her now at "her age".   He was seemingly unconvinced about the drink being a gift from a stranger so everyone on our side of the stools, corroborated her story.  He easefully joined the conversation and we learned of how he had been supposed to visit a week earlier but had been ill with possible appendicitis.  He shared that he had lived his whole life to this point in Spain and his mom had been from the area but had met his father in Newfoundland and his work took him to Spain so she followed as well and has been a teacher there ever since.   A short time-lapse and his father arrived at the establishment to retrieve now his son and his mother-in-law.   We also learned that his wife was with her sister in Moncton for the day and the father/son duo was enlisted to keep a close eye on Nana.   Still jovial and taking it all in stride, Nana said she used to roam this area as a young girl searching for cute boys but had been living in Ottawa for the past twenty-five years and her daughter, a teacher like her sister, had just retired from teaching in Ottawa and asked her mother if she wanted to move back with her.  She was from a much smaller area called Beaverbrook and was hopeful about seeing her old family home now that she was here to live.   The person who had graciously assisted Nana, as we will call her, was enjoying a homemade pretzel and complimenting the waiter/chef with his partner while sharing a few smiles as he shared space with us and the stories he could hear being offered.  Opening to the entire shared space, there was a group at a table who had been hiking together all day and sharing uncontrollable laughs about the foibles of their day, another read a book and took in their surroundings.   We lingered much longer than we had intended watching those coming in and out of the doors as well as those who decided to sit and join us on the patio.   It occurred to us how much we missed this type of interaction with strangers and how easy it is with people that are vacationing and have left their agendas at home.   

It had me contemplating how important shared space is and how deprived we have been for some time.  Even within our families, we are often looking for ways to give each other more space within our homes, in our experiences and endeavors but not as much time is given to how we will connect and share within the space we have in the present.  Even though this can be part of healthy boundaries that can often be necessary to create separate spaces,   I can't help thinking about people who lived in tribes, colonies, family farms, and small tight-knit communities and not wonder if they had something that we may be drifting away from altogether. When we think of shared space, there are airports, planes, busses, classrooms, hospitals, libraries, restaurants, concerts, parks, playgrounds, hiking trails, and beaches to name a few. Places we gather for leisure or with agenda. These spaces can be where we recognize our belonging to something greater than ourselves or where we feel more separate and isolated.  The energy that is exchanged in these spaces, no one is impervious to.   I think the analogy of this local pub as a mini civilization just makes sense.   All of the travelers or strangers drifted into one place.  We were intergenerational, varying genders and relationship identities, from different places in the world, with little to no shared experience, and yet, here we were, sharing a moment, a drink, a laugh, a space without any judgments, staying open to receive each other with respect, understanding, and grace as though we all equally belong right here, right now, as we did.  The now that brings a presence to all things and with that presence empathy, compassion, and a universal sense of belonging to something bigger than ourselves.  

My husband and I were definitely in need of some time to share space with each other but it also became clear that we needed to share space with others as well.   We needed to interweave our stories and lives with others, to be with those who are also traveling the larger shared space of the world we are traveling and experiencing and to which we are all deserving to belong.   

What if we could go through more of our days like a traveler on vacation who leaves that agenda at home? And what if we could remain open to people in all of the shared spaces we find ourselves in knowing that we all belong here and to each other?  That we don't just belong but need each other to exist. And as the expressions go, let's keep extending those tables, opening those doors, and sharing those spaces with all of life's weary travelers.  

Free

 

“Where ever you go, there you are."  Jon Kabat-Zinn

What makes you feel free? When I think of the word free, descriptions like vast, spacious, boundless, untethered, and open come to mind.  The opposite of free conjures words like constricted, constrained, stuck, not aligned, imbalanced, landlocked and controlled.  When we experience a longing to feel free when we are young, we are often looking to feel free to be, do or act in a particular way.   As we grow older we often feel free differently and are looking to be free from something, whether it is a responsibility or circumstance.

Spending a week in a seaside town a short distance from home, I relished seeing and feeling the many aspects of the ocean. The sea breeze at night while I slept, the salt on my skin after a swim, and the icy cold of the Atlantic that invigorates every aspect of my being from a plunge or a lingering swim. When I sit and stare out at the vastness, I truly feel a sense of being free. The ocean seems to whisper about possibilities and opportunities of the unknown from its shores. It would be meaningless for me to argue with justifications of restraints and reasons this may not be true. As the waves lap the shore and invite in the grains of sand, I can witness the emptiness of those unspoken words. I too know I am as free as my next, thought, action, or wish.  As I stay a little longer, I witness with compassion the parts of me that have tightened against the unknown and I release a little. I am free to look to the horizon without knowing what is just in front of me and this feels like freedom.

This same little seaside town is also becoming known for the large population of deer that roam freely about. Every morning we see them waking in the yard of our cottage and every evening grazing on grass and plants nearby.  The spotted fawns are plentiful right now and are still close to their moms while branching out periodically to test their freedom with more space and distance around them.  These gentle creatures are everywhere. The beauty of these majestic beings and the freedom and grace with which they move throughout their days, cannot be debated regardless of how the town may be feeling about their presence. 

I have been off from my job since the beginning of summer but going on vacation where you leave behind your home,  your environment, your circumstance, and the triggers that go along with these things, have me thinking about being free and what it really means. Free by definition means to not be under the control or in the power of another or able to act or be done as one wishes. It is times like vacation when we have free moments, days, or weeks, that being free becomes so meaningful. The difficulty in noticing this kind of freedom may be in understanding how often we do not feel truly free in our lives. If we ask ourselves when was the last time we actually were able to act or do as we wished, I wonder what would come up for most?   I think many of us would have to be honest with ourselves about how much we have interfered with our own opportunities to feel free in any of life's circumstances. Even when given the wide open space of the ocean, the release of other's expectations, or the duty of care and responsibilities in jobs and family for many of us, we would still have the constraints, boundaries, and blocks we create in our minds that inhibit our ability to feel free.

Looking back at the various phases of our lives, we may tell ourselves stories that right now is not the time because of x,y,z or that being free will come with more financial security, time, vacations, and when our children grow up, or when we are retired. These times often arrive all too swiftly and then we have other reasons we are constricted. Now we believe we are too old for that, too tired, or convince ourselves that there is something else always in the way of what we are wishing to do in whatever way we choose to rationalize or defend.   What if all of these stories are just ways of protecting ourselves from a different longing?  A way not to be disappointed by the reality of the experience. What if we have forgotten the real allure of being free?   We seem to take our constraints, real or imagined into every new situation without realizing we are even free to challenge while also being gentle with ourselves.  Being free gives us room to slow down, let go, forgive, and serve. When we experience freedom from our limiting beliefs, freedom from our inner critic,  from the stories told to us, and by ourselves, there is more aliveness there. 

I recently finished reading the book, Midnight Library by  Matt Haig,   where the woman was able to visit an endless variety of lives that she may have lived as they all existed based on one different choice she had made.   The current life she had been living was one she was feeling choiceless in and not free   She had attempted to take her life and was now given this opportunity to choose one of the lives she visited to stay in.   This common narrative of many books where they show you other options and then you end up choosing the one where you began, is very familiar but the one difference with this one, is that by choosing the one she was in, she was also choosing the unknown over the known.  She was choosing to be free to experience whatever should arrive in the life she chose and being reminded that it was indeed the life of her choosing, she felt free. 

Maybe this is how we can experience freedom in our lives regardless of vacations or vastness or spaciousness of time. Perhaps it is in witnessing the ways we become our own prisoners of our thoughts, how we disempower ourselves by being locked into the barriers that are self-created, and how we withhold compassion from ourselves for our missteps and misguided inner dialogues.   If we can realize that what we want for ourselves is really what is best for everyone else as well and resolve to make the choices that are ours to make. I will leave you with the words of a wellness coach I listened to recently, " Find what it is you want to do and do a version of it even on your busiest day because you are allowed to close the door on non-negotiables for yourself."  And this sounds like being free to me.