Sunday Scribblings

I'm finally doing a Sunday Scribbling. This week's topic is 'Google Magic.' I'm kind of ashamed to admit to you all that I am a Google addict. I am Google mad. A while ago I wrote a Sunday Scribblings post about Googling exes. I admit that I don't Google people very often, but I do Google just about everything else.

I live in two places. One is the middle of nowhere and the other is a fantasy land where I have enough money to buy whatever I want. In the last week I have used Google to look for the perfect: boots, scents, flower delivery, and flights, books of poetry, silver jewellery-making courses, and much MUCH more. I have also looked up recipes, song lyrics, quotations using the word 'audacious,' Laini's name to see if I could buy her book in the UK, what houses look like north of Lakefield, Ontario (for my book) and most recently I Googled 'Sunday Scribblings.' (It is mentioned 313,000 times!!!!!)

And so for my own health and that of my relationship I will not be doing any more Googling in the next 24 hours. But I am under no illusions that I won't be participating in my addiction again soon. I think I need help.

Words to Live By!!

"No matter how upside-down it all may temporarily appear, we will have no fear because we know this secret: Life is crazily in love with us—wildly and innocently in love with us. The universe always gives us exactly what we need, exactly when we need it." - Rob Brezsny

Each Life Has its Place

"Each life has its place." - Indigo Girls' song - "Virginia Woolf"

I have had the most unusual day. Usually I get up early, do some exercise and have some breakfast with Mark and then I go off to work. On my days off we try to sleep in a little and then we either work here or we go off and have an adventure. This week, though, Mark is stewarding his show and I am on my own on my day off. So today I got up, had breakfast and went for a walk. I walked to work and back. I think I walked more than 10 miles.

It was a stunning day. No matter what mood I am in when I begin walking along the cliffs I am usually shaken into one of gentle awe. When I started walking it was still becoming morning. As I moved farther up away from the sea the clouds began to shift and break up until it seemed like it was just me under a vast expanse of sky. The beginning of a walk like that always starts out well. I felt strong and virtuous and healthy. By the last three miles I was feeling sore and tired and finished. The miles in between were a combination of all of those feelings filled in with a soundtrack provided by my trusty Shuffle.

When I got home I stumbled into the shower and then to the couch where I set up camp with a big glass of water, a fried egg sandwich, my pillow and the movie 'The Hours.' I hadn't seen it before and for two hours I allowed myself to feel drained and moved and inspired. If you haven't seen it it's sort-of about Virginia Woolf but it is basically about women's lives. Sigh. A very estrogen filled day. Any time spent with Virginia Woolf creates the need in me to write. So I am writing.

It's been a crazy week. I was so up and then so down and then so lifted back up again. I have been overwhelmed with my life and disappointed in myself. Finally when I was walking today I felt back in control again. I know what the problem is. I haven't been writing. I haven't been listening. I haven't been recording things as they go by. It took a day off and time alone to let me hear that voice again. Why do I keep forgetting the answer when it is so simple? I'm off now to show up at the page. I'm off now to write. I'll let you know how it goes.

thank you.

I was so nervous to write my last post. It kind of felt like walking out of a changing room into a public place wearing my underwear. I am a firm believer in being honest on my blog as I think that that honesty is what is creating the kind of friendships I never thought I could make 'on-line.' But there is a line of sharing that sometimes feels scary. How much do you want to be naked? How much do we want to share?

But you made it safe. You met me more than half way. You made me feel so much better and so much stronger. I wanted to get out my Wonder Woman belt (yes, I own one) and use your words to make a force-field around myself so that I could ignore any other unkind remarks. I wanted to print all of those comments out so that I could carry them around with me and read them whenever the chocolate beckons.

You have made me believe in my good stuff again. Thank you.

another rough post

Here I am again sitting at my computer NOT writing for Sunday Scribblings and apologizing for not being here (or at other people's sites) more this week. Actually, I feel like this post is sort-of going to be Sunday Scribblings-y because this week's prompt is to write about something you'd never thought you'd be writing about and I am about to write about something deeply embarrassing. There are a few things that I was sure that I would never write about. One is sex. I know that my parents and other family members read this and besides that I think I am kind-of shy and defensive when it comes to sharing that part of my life. There are things that are too personal to share.

The other thing I never thought I would share is a really embarrassing story. Even now I wonder if I won't post this or whether I will go back and delete it in a day or two. Last night I went to an Ann Summers party. My friend hosted it. It's kind of like a filthy tupperware party. I was actually really excited to go because there are a FEW things that aren't trashy in their catalogue. I am also really trying to have more confidence in myself and my appearance. (Besides, I was intrigued to see their.... merchandise up close without having to go to a store.)

I need to write this very small so that I feel less nervous telling the story. They were passing a pair of sexy knickers around and one of my coworkers was sitting on the floor beside me. She and another friend were commenting on how huge they were. As she passed them to me she said, "There you go, these are about your size." I said, "Thanks a lot, weren't you just saying how huge they were?!" And she said to the other friend that she hadn't realized that I could hear her. I felt sick for the rest of the party.

So today I'm feeling rubbish and crap and the sick thing about my hardwiring is that all I want to do is eat my weight in chocolate. I have lost 30 lbs in the past year or so. I have been getting up early every single day for the past few weeks to work out. I have signed up for a half marathon - and all of that confidence can be completely destroyed with one off-hand remark. I wish I was the kind of person who could get furious and use it to keep strong but instead I am the kind of person who feels shattered and thrown off course.

All I want in the world is to never have to think about my weight ever again.

ahhh Autumn.

"Autumn... asks that we prepare for the future - that we be wise in the ways of garnering and keeping. But it also asks that we learn to let go - to acknowledge the beauty of sparseness." - B.W. Overstreet

I have always been an autumn baby. Perhaps it is because I was born in October, but unlike most people who moan about the end of summer, I begin to feel a different sort of excitement in my body when the days begin to cool. My season is arriving. My time is coming. I feel bewitched by the feelings that come with the fall.

I could never understand why January the first was created as the beginning of the new year. The beginning of September always felt like that sort of time to me. Although nature was beginning to get ready for a season of rest and replenishment, autumn always brought new beginnings and a heightened feeling of things to do. With the heat of the summer gone, people always seemed to have more energy to get on with things. Like the grasshopper that played all summer, most people get to September and think about all of the things that they need to still get done. Students and teachers go back to school, holidays are over, farmers work hard to get crops in and fields emptied (or planted) before the snow flies; museums, summer camps, and other seasonal places begin to wind down for their winter rest. It always felt to me like this would be the right time to get on with the business of new resolutions.

Part of my love for this time of year comes from my love of new stationary. Last year I was walking by a Woolworths and I swear to you that I could smell that they had just put the new school supplies out. New pens and empty books and clean pencil cases and packages of lined paper beckoned me through the doors. Everything is new and clean and fresh in September. There are back-to-school clothes and supplies and sales. You can finally put your feet back into socks and shoes. My cozy fleece and sweatshirts are whispering to me from the top of my closet. I can't wait to put them on.

So unlike the cold, sometimes harsh and stark resolutions that are made in January, autumn allows us to make gentler ones. We can look at the bounty that is surrounding us, snuggle into layers of warmth, and feel alive with the nip in the air. We can easily see where we have come from and where we want to be as the nights close in.

We can finally exhale.

As soon as I have published this post I am going to sit down with a new pencil and a clean page and take stock of where I am and how I am doing. I am going to write a fresh 'Want List' and set myself some goals to see me through until the end of the year. Then I am going to try to enjoy my favorite season to the best of my ability - beginning with a cozy supper, a warm sweater and an early night.

xo

P.S. The painting is "Ydelnesse" by Keith Henderson

Sunday Scribblings - Fortune Cookie

This week's prompt at Sunday Scribblings is "Fortune Cookie." This brings up all kinds of lovely memories for me. I used to love fortune cookies so much that I bought a huge bag of them from the bulk food store and kept them in my car. Whenever I had a passenger (which was a lot!) I would make sure that they took one and read their fortune. Most people thought I was a bit crazy. But then I was also the girl with a massive sunglasses collection who made people put on a pair as soon as they got into my car. (My huge silver Elton John glittery ones were the most popular.) They don't do fortune cookies if you get Chinese takeaway in the UK, so I haven't had my fortune told for a long time.

The last time someone told my fortune they didn't say a word about living in another country so I discounted most of the things that they said. The time before that a friend's boyfriend claimed to be a palm reader. He took one look at my palm, shook his head and refused to tell me what was there. He acted like I was going to die the next day. The time before that I went to see a proper 'psychic.' That was a more believable experience. He talked about other things - how I had a beautiful aura and about my past lives. Apparently I was a bit of a hell raiser in most of them. I wonder if that explains why I can be quite timid at times in this life. Interesting.

But back to the cookie. I think that they are an untapped resource in our quest for love, satisfaction and enlightenment. After all, most of the time when you eat fortune cookies you are with a group of people. How many times have you opened one to find that it is the same fortune as another person you are with? I think that the next time I am going to have fortune cookies I will make my own. I will make my own and fill them with laughter and wishes and joy and possibilities. Some people believe in fate and others believe that we make our own fate. This way they can both be right!!

Fortune Cookie Recipe
taken from here.

Fortune cookies can be tricky to make - it's important to make sure that the cookie batter is spread out evenly on the baking sheet. Instead of using the back of a wooden spoon to spread the batter, it's better to gently tilt the baking sheet back and forth as needed. Wearing cotton gloves makes it easier to handle and shape the hot cookies. This fortune cookie recipe makes about 10 cookies.

INGREDIENTS:

• 2 large egg whites
• 1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 1/2 teaspoon pure almond extract
• 3 tablespoons vegetable oil
• 8 tablespoons all-purpose flour
• 1 1/2 teaspoons cornstarch
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 8 tablespoons granulated sugar
• 3 teaspoons water

PREPARATION:

1. Write fortunes on pieces of paper that are 3 1/2 inches long and 1/2 inch wide. Preheat oven to 300 degrees Fahrenheit. Grease 2 9-X-13 inch baking sheets.

2. In a medium bowl, lightly beat the egg white, vanilla extract, almond extract and vegetable oil until frothy, but not stiff.

3. Sift the flour, cornstarch, salt and sugar into a separate bowl. Stir the water into the flour mixture.

4. Add the flour into the egg white mixture and stir until you have a smooth batter. The batter should not be runny, but should drop easily off a wooden spoon.

5. Place level tablespoons of batter onto the cookie sheet, spacing them at least 3 inches apart. Gently tilt the baking sheet back and forth and from side to side so that each tablespoon of batter forms into a circle 4 inches in diameter.

6. Bake until the outer 1/2-inch of each cookie turns golden brown and they are easy to remove from the baking sheet with a spatula (14 - 15 minutes).

7. Working quickly, remove the cookie with a spatula and flip it over in your hand. Place a fortune in the middle of a cookie. To form the fortune cookie shape, fold the cookie in half, then gently pull the edges downward over the rim of a glass, wooden spoon or the edge of a muffin tin. Place the finished cookie in the cup of the muffin tin so that it keeps its shape. Continue with the rest of the cookies.

Poetry Thursday - Time

When I read this week's Poetry Thursday prompt I had two poems come into my head. Interestingly enough I was transported to the two ends of my education. I remembered a poem that I learned as a song when I was small and a poem that I had to dissect line by line and word by word in university.

The dissected poem was The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. I remember thinking what a fabulous name for a poem that was. On first reading I hated the poem. In fact, on first reading in university I hated most of the poems I had to read. I was thoroughly pissed off about having to rip them apart at the seams trying to understand every little nuance. I was idealistic and romantic. I wanted to let poetry, "drip from our tongues like honey." (Dead Poets Society) But I found that as I learned more and more about the poems, I liked them more and more. I liked knowing the references and understanding the era in which they were written. This was one of the poems that struck me. By the time we finished studying it, I could read it and hear the swishing of the gowns, the fading, the passage of time. I loved it because I understood it.

The second poem that came to my head was My Grandfather's Clock. The funny thing about this one was when we learned it in primary school, we didn't study it at all. We learned it as a song. Looking it up today I realized that we only learned the good-parts version. No tearing this poem apart to learn and understand. No looking to see what the poet was doing with the passage of time. Instead we sang exactly two verses and two choruses. We ignored the parts about servants and about him properly dying. As far as our young lives were concerned he got married and that was as far as it got. Oh sure in the chorus he died, but we were too preoccupied enjoying the 'tick tock tick tock' to pay any attention. It's funny how things change as you get older!

If you'd like to know what happened to the grandfather, you can follow the link I've provided. If you only want the 'good parts version,' here it is:

My Grandfather's Clock
by Henry Clay Work

My grandfather's clock was too large for the shelf,
So it stood ninety years on the floor.
It was taller by half, than the old man himself,
Though it weighed not a pennyweight more.
It was bought on the morn of the day that he was born,
And was always his treasure and pride.
Chorus:
But it stopped short, never to go again,
When the old man died.
Ninety years without slumbering, tick, tock, tick, tock,
His life seconds numbering, tick, tock, tick, tock,
It stopped short never to go again,
When the old man died.

2. In watching its pendulum swing to and fro,
Many hours had he spent while a boy;
And in childhood and manhood, the clock seemed to know,
And to share both his grief and his joy,
For it struck twenty-four when he entered at the door,
With a blooming and beautiful bride.
Chorus:

excavation.

It's a quiet morning. I can hear some traffic outside my window and it sounds like it has been raining. Last night we went out with a dear friend who is now sleeping on our living room floor. Mark is still sleeping beside me and I am alone with my laptop listening to the world.

Once again I have been lurking through the pages of other people's blogs. I haven't been leaving many comments or writing much of my own stuff. I'm not sure why. I'm feeling a bit shy and a bit edgy. I feel like every time I write it sounds like the same old thing. I am constantly writing about wanting more, needing to change, needing to become all of myself. This morning I think I am bored of myself.

Living in the UK for the first time I couldn't put my finger on what was so fundamentally different about it. I knew when I walked on the cliffs near where I live that it felt different. I finally figured out that there is a real history here. (I wrote about the difference between North America and the UK here.) The people here have a real sense of things being 'done' a certain way. They are blessed with thousands of years of history. No matter where you go in the UK it feels like someone else has been there before. They are forever having some treasure being dug up that has worked its way up from where it was dropped hundreds of years ago. That's a lot of good reasons to continue to sift through the dirt.

(I paused here for a walk down to the sea. I needed to think about where this was going.)

But is it worth it - the digging I mean - is it worth the dozens of deep empty holes? The dirt under your fingernails? Would it be easier to sit cross-legged on top of the earth and let the sleeping treasures lay where they are? Are they better off lying there in the dark? Would I be able to enjoy the wind on my face knowing that there was so much more to uncover under the layers? Am I happier learning about myself? Am I better off making leaps of faith and understanding even though I am often thrown back five steps shortly after making them? Would I be better off to just get on with my life on the surface? Should I stop digging?

For me there is no question. I can't help it. I am on a journey. Trying to figure it all out is a part of who I am. After reading this yesterday I have decided that I must continue in my excavation.

A quest, it seems to me, stems from the intuitive belief that the key to our wholeness lies in the expression of what we've glimpsed in ourselves but not yet touched. A quest is connected to the you that reaches beyond itself to the thread that connects one human being to another." - Geneen Roth

I am not on a dig it seems. I am on a quest. I like that a lot better.

Big is scary.

I know I haven't been posting again this week. After last week's Sunday Scribblings post I got really nervous. I mean, after you post something all big and bold and brash like that it's really difficult to:

a) write something ordinary again
b) live up to the post
and c) write something else when all you want to do is go on about what you were already on about.

So I wasn't able to do Poetry Thursday and I can NOT seem to post anything for Sunday Scribblings. (Although I do have a great Pigeon story for it when I can focus!!)

The day after I wrote this:

"Who else can I still be? I can be as big and wide and grand as I need to be. I can stop trying stay small and nervous. I can begin to live out to my own edges, to make big brave decisions and to not be so afraid of what I might find at the outer reaches of me. I can shift focus from my navel to my fingertips. I can be everything. I just have to be brave."

I got up in the morning and looked at myself in the mirror. What I saw there frightened me. It frightened me because I could feel a stirring deep in my belly. I could feel the stirrings of change. I could feel strong and bold growing up inside of me. Later that morning I received this in the post from the uncomparable Andrea. When I opened it up I was frightened all over again. I was frightened because the beads on this baby are BIG! I usually wear small necklaces so that I don't draw attention to my boobs (HA! I laugh writing that because it sounds ridiculous. These girls don't need anything extra to draw attention to them!!!!) But it seemed appropriate that on this day I got my first piece of BIG jewelry. I put it on immediately even though I was just cleaning the bathroom. I felt fantastic.

But writing about being brave and living out to your edges is easy. Living with that notion is bloody painful at times. I started out on a BIG high and then had an uncomfortable conversation with a coworker that made me feel like crap. (That's not only crap but it's very small crap.) And somehow I felt like I had taken ten steps backwards past where I had been on Sunday. I was back feeling small and scared and sorry for myself. WHY do we let other people dictate how and who we are? WHY do we let other people's stuff create stuff for us? And how was I to get back to feeling brave and bold and okay with TAKING UP SPACE??!

So here I sit one week later wondering what I can do to continue to be as much of myself as I can be. I wonder how to continue to embrace being Brave and BOLD and ALIVE in my own skin. If anyone would like to join me on my quest to find and be okay with our outer edges, I would love to have you. Here are a couple of things that have helped me this week. If anyone has any other suggestions, I would appreciate them heartily.

1. I have been reading some books by Geneen Roth about changing my relationship with my body and with food. I cannot tell you how much I love these books. If you have any body issues at all - she's your girl!

2. I bought an apron today. I bought it so that when I decide to be creative I will already have 'the outfit.' It reads, "You love me cos I'm gorgeous."

3. I've been looking into flights to visit some of my new and fabulous friends across the pond.

4. I am about to take myself to bed early. (It's harder to be your best self when you are tired, anxious and cranky.)

sweet dreams xo

They're REAL!!!

I've shamelessly stolen this photo from Madeleine's site. She and her three fabulous kids (you can just see the top of their heads in this photo!) and Susannah came to my little village for drinks last week. It felt so normal, so much like we'd known each other for years. I loved it!!! Yes, bloggers, Madeleine & Susannah do not just live in your computers. They are real! I've hugged them! (And yes, I have finally posted a picture with me in it.)

If someone had told me a year ago that by now I would have met people on line who I could consider friends, I would have told them that they were crazy. If someone had told me that I would be meeting amazing women and making strong connections through the internet, I would have laughed. In fact, some people I know are still quite skeptical about the whole thing. But I admit to you now that I am a computer nerd. And through this computer I have met people who have changed and are changing my life. I can't WAIT to meet more of you all as soon as I can.

Sunday Scribblings #20 - "Who Else Can I Still Be?"

I am large - I contain multitudes. - Walt Whitman

When I first started thinking about what to write for today's prompt I went over a list of all of the things I still wanted to be - or that I think I might want to be - and pondered those things for awhile. I think I want to be a published writer, a mother (erm...) a wife, healthy, I'd like to be a world traveler, a better friend, an inspiration, a home owner, a dual citizen... my list grew and grew until I realized that I was spending too much time making my list.

Who else could I still be? What else could I still be? I've spent enough time in the past little while navel-gazing and wondering and thinking about what I want am who I am and who I intend to be when I grow up that I know the answers to most of these questions. I know already. I KNOW! So the question begs to be asked - then why aren't I DOING something about it? I know what needs to be done to get every single one of my dreams to come true. I know how much grit and determination and drive and WORK I need to be doing. I know how to be thin, I know how to be a better person, I know how to be a published writer. I have 40,000 books on my shelves to help me along the way. Every single deepest desire of my heart is possible. I know that. I can do it. If what you focus on appears in your life. Why aren't I shifting focus?

Laziness? No, I have come to know that I am not lazy. I am selectively lazy and I think that is an entirely different animal. Tiredness? Yes, I am often pooped at the end of the day but that is just an excuse. There are a lot of people a lot more tired than me getting on with the business of their dreams. Fear? Yes. I do sometimes think that I am afraid of what I might find when I get there. What if I do get thin and then I am just the same old me? What if I do get published and nothing really changes? What if people love me less because I am successful? I know what Now feels like. I can deal with Now quite easily. If I work towards Then I might not be able to handle it when I get there. I might be vulnerable Then, and that's really scary.

But it is all just more crap. More excuses. More not moving forward. I'd really like to go back in time and watch to see the exact place and moment in our lives where we learn that we need to be afraid. I would like to go back and smack the first person who made me feel small.

So I think that I am going to answer the question of 'who else I could still be' with the Walt Whitman quote at the top of this page: "I am large - I contain multitudes." And the one I used at the top of this post as well... Who else can I still be? I can be as big and wide and grand as I need to be. I can stop trying stay small and nervous. I can begin to live out to my own edges, to make big brave decisions and to not be so afraid of what I might find at the outer reaches of me. I can shift focus from my navel to my fingertips. I can be everything. I just have to be brave.

(Oh, and 40,000 books might have been a slight exaggeration!) For more Sunday Scribblings go here.

Caution: Changing Priorities

On Monday I had the day off. Mark and I drove to Plymouth. It's about 45 minutes away. I love driving to Plymouth but I don't love Plymouth. It lacks the character of the other places we go in the UK. It was bombed heavily during the war and when they rebuilt it it was designed by 60s designers. It's ugly. They are trying very hard to regenerate it, but it's still ugly in places.

Still, a day out is a day out so I was loving the never-ending sunshine, uninterrupted time with my honey, the chance to people watch, and the opportunity to buy things from shops instead of from the internet! As it is summer, everywhere around us is crowded. Plymouth was no exception and we got stuck in some traffic jams. One-way systems are probably good for traffic flow when there isn't much, but on Monday we just seemed to sit a lot.

As we sat and waited at one intersection I noticed a traffic sign. It was bright red with white letters and it said: "Caution Changing Priorities." I have no idea what it means in a traffic jam, but it made me laugh out loud. I wished I could steal it and wear it around my neck! In the past few months I have changed so much. I am beginning to see small twinkling lights at the end of some of my tunnels. But in the process of moving towards these lights I have had to change some of the ways that I am thinking.

I think I have learned that in order to stop emotionally eating and in order to get outside and do some exercise and in order to be in love equally my priorities have had to change. We spend so much of our lives trying to be good and make other people happy. We try very hard not to be selfish or to appear self-absorbed. But in trying to be 'good' to everyone else we end up beating the hell out of ourselves. We ignore our own needs. We eat when we should be crying, we sit when we should be dancing, and we bite our tongues and swallow the words that would allow us to feel our own integrity. The saddest part of all of this is that by ignoring ourselves we make ourselves miserable and so we also fail at making everyone else around us happy. We become bitchy and tight and pinched. We sigh like martyrs and shut down the sparkling, full sides of ourselves. Eventually we forget.

So I would like to market a line of necklaces. They will be bright red pendants that read: 'Caution Changing Priorities.' We could put them on as a symbol to ourselves and to others that we are beginning to pay attention to ourselves. It would let people know that we were about to let go; about to begin to put ourselves and our needs before the needs of everyone else. We could smile and gently tell them that by taking care of ourselves that we are going to be much better mothers/ daughters/ sisters/ lovers/ partners, because we are going to be happier, more relaxed, and more in tune with who we are. We are not going to forget them, we are going to adore them - because we can finally adore ourselves.

"Caution: Changing Priorities..." It could be a revolution!

It's Already Broken.

"I am larger and much better than I thought. I did not think I held so much goodness." - Walt Whitman (This quote has very little to do with this post - I just LOVE it and wanted to share!!)

A funny thing has been happening to me lately. I have been starting books and then putting them down in the middle. I had to force myself to finish a couple. The most recent was 'Secret Life of Bees.' Somewhere around the middle I knew that things were going to get stressful and I stopped reading it. (I forced a finish - FABULOUS book!!!) It even happened with 'Eat Pray Love.' I read it right up to nearly the end and then I just stopped reading it for some reason. Any psychoanalysts out there? What's going on in my brain?

But this week I read a book and I devoured every page. I bought it because I am completely fed up with worrying about my weight and yet I am still eating too much. What I found was not a book just about food issues. It was a book about body issues, friendship issues, boundary issues. She talks about living life so that you are more aware of yourself and the world around you. I cannot recommend it highly enough!

One of the chapters that I loved the most was called, "Remind Yourself that it is Already Broken." It is a concept that I have already been trying to work with for the past little while. Roughly translated it means that if you look at everything in your life as temporary you will begin to live differently. Everything and everyone in your life won't be there forever. Things get lost or broken or stolen or they fade and fall apart. People move away, get lost, get broken, and sometimes they die. We take everything and everyone so much for granted. Seeing everything in your life as already broken:

"...helps you fully appreciate what you've got while you have it. Instead of protecting it, being worried about losing it, or spending your time and energy devising ways to keep it safe forever, you place your attention and love right square in this moment, and you luxuriate in every last bit of it." - Geneen Roth

This is what I am going to try to work with today and what I wish for you - moments of pure appreciation. xo

Sunday Scribblings - Who Else Might I Have Been?

This week's prompt for Sunday Scribblings is, "Who Else Might I Have Been?"

I can trace my life right now back through so many decisions. I've played the game of wondering where this part of my life started. If I hadn't come to England the first time I wouldn't be here with Mark. But I can go farther. If I hadn't stopped going to camp the year I did I would never have worked at the museum and met the boy who I had the dysfunctional relationship with. It was this relationship that helped to ruin a friendship. The friend and I were going to go to England together. When university, the relationship and the friendship were all over, I decided to get away to England without her. Without her I knew I couldn't live in London alone. I chose a tiny hotel in the middle of nowhere. All roads, all decisions, all movements from the time I was 19 conspired together to bring me here. I have to believe it was fate.

What would have happened if I had kept on going to camp? What would have happened if I had dumped that boyfriend's sorry ass when I first knew I should? What would have happened if I had been too afraid to move to England for the first, second, and third times? I don't know. Maybe I'd be a teacher now, and living in Ontario. Maybe I'd be married and having babies. Maybe I would be heading towards a Principalship, driving a VW and enjoying my summer vacation in Mexico. Maybe I would have done Outdoor Rec at university and I'd still be camping. Maybe I would have gone on to get my Phd and become a Professor. The possibilities are endless.

Who else might I have been? All of those lives might have been wonderful. Would I have been happy? Or would my decisions still have eventually led me to Mark? It's hard to say. But I often tell him that in the next life, he has to come and find me. It was a lot of work this time.

Warning: a very grumpy post.

I was all set to write a wonderful, empowered blog post tonight. Mark met me after work and I went on my first 8ish mile run after work. The sun was shining, the sea was glinting and I was running! I was thinking about you all as I ran up a long hill, listening to Deb Talan's song, "Big Strong Girl." I thought about how far I had come in the last few years, and I was all excited to be 'in training.'

A few miles in I felt a funny twinge in my knee. Stupidly, I ignored it. I ran a bit, walked a bit, and ran a bit more. Then we walked up a big hill and when we were on the flat again we started running and the funny twinge came back but this time there was a definite 'poing.' That time I stopped. Duh. Little miss listen to her body should have listened the first time. I told Mark to run ahead of me and I would meet him at the beach but as I walked home it hurt more and more until I was seriously limping and now I am sitting with a bag of frozen peas on my knee.

GRRRrrrroooOOOOOooooowwwWWWWWWWlllllLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL. All of this bloody training and I'm sitting here with 10 weeks to go until my run with a damaged knee. (There's swearing in my head right now but I will spare you the naughty words.) I'm not a very happy camper at all. Damnit. (Ooops, okay, ONE swear word is okay...) Sigh. Sorry for the unhappiness. Especially when it's my own darn fault.

Please tell me something nice...

Poetry Thursday

I have been fairly bad at posting Poetry Thursday entries lately. (In fact, I have just realized now that I am even a full week behind... sorry.) I think I am overwhelmed by all of the creativity that I am either trying to produce or that I feel like I want to produce or whatever. I worry sometimes that I am not blogging interestingly enough or that I am not blogging enough, but then when I am blogging I worry that I should be spending more time listening to my characters and Writing, but then when I am Writing I worry that I should be spending time sifting through the other things in my life's In Box. I can never just be in the middle of something, I always feel like I need to be worrying about all of the other things I have in the pan. I would really really love to know how to stop worrying full stop. Hmmm... yet another thing to put on my to-do list. Grrrrrr....

So I just can't seem to face writing any poetry right now. I suppose I could write a poem about not being able to write a poem. Or I could write a poem out of my to-do lists... One of my favorite poems ever is by William Carlos Williams. It's basically a fridge note. It's a good food poem so here it is:

This is Just To Say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

But I also have my first ever poem that I ever memorized. It captures a family mealtime perfectly. It's by Dennis Lee and I think it's called:

Tricking

When they bring me a plate
Full of stuff that I hate
Like spinach and turnips and guck.
I sit very straight
and I look at the plate
and I quietly say to it: "Yuck!"

Little kids bawl,
cause I used to be small
and throw it all over the tray.
But now I am three
and much more like me
so I "Yuck!" 'til they take it away.

But sometimes my Dad
gets terrifically mad
and he says, "Don't you drink from that cup!"
But he can't say it right,
cause he's not very bright.
So I trick him and drink it all up.

Then he gets up and roars
and he stomps on the floor
and he hollers, "I warn you, don't eat!"
He counts up to ten
and I trick him again,
and I practically finish my meat.

Then I start on the guck,
and my Daddy goes, "Yuck!"
and scrunches his eyes 'til they hurt.
So I shovel it in
and he grins a big grin
and then we have dessert!

another month gone!

"Once you’ve overcome inertia, it’s much easier to keep going." - Steve Pavlina

Can you believe that tomorrow is August!? I am flabbergasted and astounded that this year has gone by so quickly. That old cliche about life going faster and faster as you get older scares me. If life is moving this quickly in my thirties, what sort of speed will it go in my forties?? Urk!

I feel like I need to do something to mark the passage of time a little better. I feel like the weeks are rolling by and I have no real record of my days. I tried keeping a daily Gratitude Journal, but anything that I have to do before bed goes by the wayside eventually. I used to be an evening person - an owl - but in this third decade of my life I have realized that I am definitely a lark. I've been getting up at 6am to run (yes, me!!) and I have found that if I can write before lunch I get a lot more done. So perhaps a morning memorial to my days is a good plan.

A few days ago Jamie at Starshyne Productions wrote about keeping a Spell/ Prayer/ Magic book. I absolutely love this idea! I love it because it is very open in its brief. As someone who writes a lot, sometimes writing for personal pleasure outside of Getting Something Done is difficult. This book lets me free of that stress because I don't have to even put words in if I don't want to! So I am copying her (thanks Jamie!) and I am going to create my very own 'Spells and Prayers and Magic' book. And as tomorrow is August first, I am going to try to keep it up for a whole month. A month, says Steve Pavlina, is long enough to see how something is going without committing to anything forever. So I'd like to see where I will be after a month of spells and prayers and magic. Sounds intriguing doesn't it?

And hopefully September first won't sneak up on me so quickly.

Sunday Scribblings #18 - My 2 Cents

This week's Sunday Scribblings prompt is, "My 2 Cents." I wasn't sure what to write about because I am not feeling particularly full of beans tonight. But then I started read through some of the posts this week and I realized what I would like to give my 2 cents about.

A few months ago I sent out a question. I realized that there were lots of sites for artists but not very many (that I had found) for writers. So I asked if anyone would be interested in participating in something. I wanted to call it, "Sunday Scribblings" because there wasn't much going on in blog-land on the weekend. Laini quickly answered and said that she would like to help me do it. (In hindsight - thank GOODNESS!!) So between us we cooked up the site.

As our first week approached we emailed back and forth wondering if anyone would be interested. We thought we'd be lucky to have twenty people participate and instead thirty-three people answered the call. The site grew quickly and by week five we already had eighty or more people coming most weeks. It's been overwhelming at times, but the prompts have always been accepted, delays in linking have been humored, and a real community has been created.

It's that community that prompted me to write this post today. Many times over the past few months I have found myself shaking my head in heady emotion. People have responded to the prompts with bravery and honesty and clarity and strength. I am constantly inspired by the writers in this group. Sharing the kind of depth of experience that most people hide from each other, people have opened their lives and their hearts. Every week I am jealous of someone's writing skill and of someone else's ideas. Every week I wish I could go and visit someone for a cup of tea or a glass of wine. Every week I am humbled by someone else's experiences.

My hope for this site was that we could inspire someone to begin to write. I wanted to read what other people had to say. I also selfishly wanted an excuse to write every week. Along the way Sunday Scribblings has taken on a life of its own. Friends and connections have been made, stories have been told, and words have been strung together in many ways. I get excited when I go to a new site and see the Sunday Scribblings link. What more could we do? Where else can we go? What piece of writing could be started here on a Sunday morning? The possibilities, I hope, are endless.

P.S. Having read the comments already left, I need to make it clear that I didn't write this post for thanks or for any accolades. I don't want you to think I was fishing. I wrote it because of how much I am enjoying all of this.... but thank you for enjoying it right back!!

P.P.S. Crazy, amazing news! Yahoo Picks has chosen Sunday Scribblings as their pick of the day!!

it's TOO HOT!!

I found these pictures in a newspaper and they made me grin so I thought I would share them with you. I just love that the zookeepers are making huge popsicles for the animals. Political views aside, it's nice to know that the animals are being taken care of in this heat!! (I think that the tiger looks particularly happy with his treat!) xo

Sunday Scribblings #17: "Thief!"

I've been struggling to write something for this topic until I realized that the reason I am struggling is because I am conspiring with a thief of my own!

I've not been reading any blogs or phoning anyone. I owe my brother and several friends a proper email. My house is quite shocking in its mess. My laundry is piling up. I can see my regular life being neglected. I was trying to write about a time when I have either been a thief (except for bar-stuff, the list is remarkably short) or been with a thief (again a short list!) but I just can't seem to focus.

The reason for all of this is that I have had a book enter my brain. I have written before about accepting book ideas from the universe. Well, some time ago I accepted a wonderful idea. I heard it whispered in my ear and I wrote it down in one of my notebooks. I left it to percolate and found that I thought about it a lot more than some of the others. I mentioned it to Mark last week but told him that I was thinking about starting to write a different book because I didn't feel like I was a good enough writer yet to do this idea justice. (Oooh, I am a textbook case, aren't I?!) He shook his head and told me not to wait and that I should just start. After all, the first attempt is only a rough draft, right? It doesn't have to be good right away.

Well, I mulled over that for a few days. In fact, I started making notes for a different book entirely. I ignored the advice and the whispers and went on with my days. (Why do we have such angst about being 'good'??) And then a few days ago the thieves completely entered my brain. It started with a name. I got the full name of a character. I knew immediately who she was. I wasn't sure about the name and tried to change it to something different. She stubbornly stayed strong. So I wrote her name down. From there my pen hasn't really stopped moving. She has told me her whole story. So has her next door neighbor, her landlord, her ex-lover, and a whole cast of other people who inhabit her world. They have stolen me and my time away. I have found myself scribbling when I should be working, being resentful when I am asked to do something else, and desperate for a pen when another voice begins to whisper in my ear.

I'm scared. I know what this means. This has happened to me twice before. This thief will continue to steal my time. There is a real love-hate thing going on here. I love this moment. I love knowing that if I just sit down at the page, a book will begin to emerge. But I hate it as well. I hate that I will question my ability, my talent, and my use of time. I will always either want to be writing or be dreading it. I will hear the voices in my head and I either won't know how to tell their story or I won't be able to get it down quickly enough. This is a jealous and demanding thief. But I am afraid I have no choice.

For more Sunday Scribblings that have stuck to the topic much better, go here!

Poetry Thursday

This Week's Poetry Thursday topic is... Sex.

Now, I am not a prude, but I am not very brave. So I would like to share my favorite all-time sex poems with you, but I will make you go somewhere else to read them. I found them in high school when my teacher read 'Carrots' to us. They are absolutely hilarious - I can't wait to hear what you think!!

I had to do some searching to find this poetry on the web, but another blogger has posted them before, so here they are. (scroll down a little bit on her post to find them. They are called, 'The Sex Lives of Vegetables' by Lorna Crozier.)

a bunch of good stuff.

It's been a funny blogging week! I keep on thinking, "ooh, that would make a great blog post!" Then I go about my day and when I get to my computer I can't remember a thing. Sigh. There's a heat wave here this week so maybe the heat is frying out my memory systems. So as I have nothing intelligent to say, I will share the intelligence of others.

Things I wish I had said/ done/ written this week:

1) This post by the remarkable Liz.

2) "When you act out of fear, your fears come true" - David Bayles & Ted Orland

3) "Just get up and do your thing and speak your truth. It's as simple as that." - Lamar Harrington

4) And two quotes by my constant favorite, Clarissa Pinkola Estes:

"Like wolf pups, women need a similar initiation, one which teaches that the inner and outer worlds are not happy-go-lucky places. Many women do not even have the basic teaching about predators that a wolf woman gives her pups, such as: if it's threatening and bigger than you, flee; if it's weaker, see what you want to do; if it's sick, leave it alone; if it has quills, poison, fangs, or razor claws, back up and go in the other direction; if it smells nice but is wrapped around metal jaws, walk on by."

and

"We find lingering evidence of [the Wild Woman] archetype in the images and symbols found in stories, literature, poetry, painting, and religion. It would appear that its glow, its voice, and its fragrance are meant to cause us to be raised up from contemplating the shit on our tails to occasionally traveling in the company of the stars."

(That quote is one of my all time favorites. Since I read it the first time, it's become like a refrain in my life's song. It pops up in my head a lot when I am feeling stuck or sorry for myself. When it appears in my head I realize that I must be contemplating the shit again... time to look at things differently. Funny... it's been poking its nose in this week.)

5) "We do not grow absolutely. Chronologically. We sometimes grow in one dimension and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cell, constellations." - Anais Nin.

6) And last but not least: This past week saw so much bravery and courage from Jamie at Starshyne Productions. YAY to her for leaving a job that didn't fit and moving farther into the realm of following her dreams! If you don't read her blog yet, do go there and have a look. If you read back only a few posts you will watch this brave woman make that leap! Thank you for the inspiration Jamie!!!

Hope that you have a wonderful day wherever you are. xoox

The Long way Around

I'm in love with a song! Sometimes songs hit me really hard. I end up listening to them over and over, drinking them in. I feel the way about songs the way I feel about books. Both of them have the potential to make me feel less lonely or less weird.

I may be behind the times over here, but I am completely loving the Dixie Chicks' new song. Sometimes I wish I could have come out of high school and married the guy I was in love with and gotten an ordinary job and gotten on with the business of kids & dogs. I am not commenting on whether or not those choices are right or wrong. For some people, that path was the best one. For me it wasn't. Or at least I don't think it was. I followed a slightly different path, and I am still doing things differently.

So this is the song I am loving right now!

Taking the Long way 'Round
by The Dixie Chicks

My friends from high school
Married their high school boyfriends
Moved into houses
In the same ZIP codes where their parents lived

But I
I could never follow
No I
I could never follow

I hit the highway
In a pink RV with stars on the ceiling
Lived like a gypsy
Six strong hands on the steering wheel

I've been a long time gone now
Maybe someday, someday I'm gonna settle down
But I've always found my way somehow

By takin' the long way
Takin' the long way around
Takin' the long way
Takin' the long way around

I met the queen of whatever
Drank with the Irish and smoked with the hippies
Moved with the shakers
Wouldn't kiss all the asses that they told me to

No I
I could never follow
No I
I could never follow

It's been two long years now
Since the top of the world came crashing down
And I'm gettin' it back on the road now

But I'm takin' the long way
Takin' the long way around
I'm takin' the long way
Takin' the long way around

Oh, I just take my time I won't lay down
And take the long way 'round

Well, I fought with a stranger and I met myself
I opened my mouth and I heard myself
It can get pretty lonely when you show yourself
Guess I could have made it easier on myself

But I
I could never follow
No I
I could never follow

Well I never seem to do it like anybody else
Maybe someday, someday I'm gonna settle down
If you ever want to find me I can still be found

Takin' the long way
Takin' the long way around
Takin' the long way
Takin' the long way around

Sunday Scribblings #16: "With Baggage"

If I could use one phrase to describe myself in the past I would have said, 'pack rat.' I have posted before about my love of stuff. I used to be a lot worse. Papers of all kinds, quotes, books, mugs, jewelry, more books, and memorabilia - lots of memorabilia - still stuff the corners of the closet (and the shelves) in my old room in my parent's house. It's not that I love the stuff exactly. I think I am addicted to memories. I don't keep anything that doesn't matter to me.

So when I was packing up to move to the UK for the first time, I was in a bit of a state. I was moving with no money, no plans, no place to live and no final date. I didn't know what job I would be doing or where I would be doing it. Packing just one bag was a difficult job. Going off into the wild blue yonder was such a stretch for me. I knew that I would need comfort. Even in the middle of the deepest darkest adventures, I think that people need touchstones. When you can only pack one bag, how much of it needs to be necessary things and how much of it can be nostalgia?

So I left for England with a densely packed knapsack and ended up (after three nights in a London hotel booked by my Mom!) moving to the coast. I realized quite quickly that I am not a backpacker. I needed to live in a place for awhile to get to know it. So I unpacked my bag. Nine months later my friend Jayne came and we travelled around the UK. I packed up and we went on a wonderful adventure. We hunted for Puffins on Orkney and played Pooh Sticks in the Hundred Acre Wood. We stalked Shakespeare's house, did some stupid things in Edinburgh and marvelled at the architecture in Bath. And every time we stopped I emptied my bag of something. The more you move around carrying baggage, the lighter you want it to be. As my first trip came to an end, I returned home much lighter than when I left.

Several trips back and forth later, I am now living in that same little village I started in. Except for my laptop (my pride and joy,) pretty much everything I own could still be packed into a couple of suitcases. I travel much lighter these days. In fact, if it's possible, I carry-on. I don't know that I have changed that much, I just realized somewhere along the line that it is much easier on the back, the legs, and the soul to travel light. I still have that cache of memories and treasures (and books - never forget the books) stowed away in my childhood closet, but the grown-up me has decided not to add much to that pile. Baggage, you see, is really really heavy. Travelling light is the only way to go.


For more Sunday Scribblings, go here.

A rant.

If I could change one thing about myself it would not be my weight or my height or my foot size. If I could change one thing about myself it would be my ability to follow through with my decisions. Sometimes I am a very determined person. Give me a deadline and I can get my writing done. Give me a darn good reason for something and I can do it. No problem. The trouble begins when I sit down and make vague but grand decisions.

I can not tell you how many times I have said to myself, "From now on I will..." or "Starting tomorrow..." and NOT DONE IT. I'm getting fairly tired of the whole process to be honest. Which switch in my brain do I have to switch? Which magical thought do I have to think? How do I become one of those people whose stories you read in magazines saying, "One day I had had enough and..." or "A light bulb went off and I realized..." I have been changing light bulbs and having epiphanies for years; YEARS do you hear me? So what is different about me? I don't lack determination, I just can't seem to decide which decisions to use it on.

Sigh. And so I sit here, writing it all and thinking it all AGAIN. I'm bored of it and I am bored of me talking about it. I'm fed up with NOT following through with the good stuff. Why can I not just NOT eat things when I know that they are bad for me? Why can I not just get my sorry ass outside to exercise more regularly? Why can I not do these and other things that are good for me? Am I not wired properly? Does anyone know where that switch is?

dipping my toes back in!

"God turns you from one feeling to another
and teaches by means of opposites,
so that you have two wings to fly, not one."
- ­ Rumi

Hello there! I am finally back!!

My trip home was full-to-bursting with family and friends and food! I truly had a wonderful time. A week flew by! And I am determined that someday soon I will have enough money to be able to afford to fly in a more intelligent way. I spent about 3 days travelling in the end, and the flights were only about 7 hours each... travelling is really about 'hurry up and wait.' I love the getting there, but the journey is exhausting!!

It's strange - I have been back for a couple of days but I have been really hesitating coming back on here. I have no idea why. I feel like somehow I need to have something to SAY, which is rubbish really. I felt this way at the very beginning of my blogging journey. I hesitated for a long long time before finally starting. I feel the same way now - nervous and unsure. I have felt cocooned in my trip home. I went through a wide range of emotions in the past two weeks. I was deeply torn in many ways. I spent time yearning for a chance to live in Canada again. My dream is to have a house on a lake near my family. I want to be able to watch my niece and my friend's daughter grow up. I want to spend more time with family and friends. I want to be back in the arms of my support system.

But then I also found myself longing for England (and Mark!) I love our lifestyle here. We completely play by our own rules. If I hadn't moved to the UK with Mark I have no doubt that I would be teaching and probably still not writing. Instead I am writing and helping to create something. We are following our dreams, however difficult those paths are. We live in our little flat by the sea. Sigh. I think that I need to realize that being torn is going to be a part of my life. We'll figure it all out someday.

I am looking forward to getting back in touch. Now that I have dipped my toes back into blogging, I remember how much I like it! YAY! I think I am BACK!!

xo

See you soon!

For the past few days I have been working my way through the book, 'The Alchemist' by Paulo Coelho. I am reading it for my books group. I admit to beginning to read with a bit of a chip on my shoulder. I don't like to read or watch things with too much hype. I wanted to be the only person in the world who hadn't seen Titanic because I didn't want to give in to the hype. I almost didn't read any of the Harry Potter books for the same reason. I kind-of felt this way about this book. I have found that when there is a great deal of hoopla about something I get disappointed when I do see or read it.

Luckily I admit to enjoying this book very much. It's a sweet story with wonderful lessons. Interestingly it is a very simple phrase that has been coming back to me again and again. I had to go back through the book to find it. Usually when I read I either fold down the corners of pages or put in bookmarks or write softly in pencil beside passages that hit me. This was so small that it didn't register until I had read past it.

The boy and the alchemist are riding across the desert having a conversation about alchemists. The boy asks about some of them and why they didn't succeed in their quest.

"They were looking only for gold," his companion answered. "They were seeking the treasure of their destiny without wanting actually to live out their destiny."

That passage just resonated for me. I think that I have been guilty of this for the past little while. So worried about money and the lack of it, I have been looking towards what will happen when we finally have more of it. I have been missing the fact that the journey - the process - is more important that what I am going to get at the end. By thinking in this way I am stifling any creativity and process that might actually create something that might be saleable. No one is going to buy a book written by a stress-case. It will be forced and unnatural and won't fill them up. People will buy books written by someone who is living in the centre of her experience. People will respond to writing that is about life, not about the paycheck that it will bring.

I am off in a couple of hours for a trip HOME. I am doing a one-week flying visit to Canada. It is going to be a crucial rejeuventation for me. Canada. Sigh. I won't be posting very much. I am going to be filling the well, the heart, the belly and the soul. I'll be hugging my loved ones close and meeting new loved ones and eating lots and lots of my Mom's cooking! I'll be back next week - filled up and ready to post much more often. In the meantime, love to you all. Keep safe and well and take care of you.

xo

Sunday Scribblings #13 - Music

The prompt for this week's Sunday Scribblings is "Music." I don't know what I want to write about it. I think I had an idea when I first read the prompt but then Laini suggested that we try to go deeper than our first reaction.

I initially thought about the music I used to listen to as a teenager. Mark and I caught the last little bit of a program on T.V. called "The Top 50 Albums that You Must Own." It was a lovely walk down memory lane. I own a lot of them, but I was a real Canadian music freak when I was a teenager. I spent a lot of money on concerts in a small venue called "Artspace" in my youth. I loved supporting new bands before they were famous. I felt helpful!

But then I was supposed to go deeper. So I thought about my problematic relationship with music. I don't like to play it loudly - unless I am in my car and then I play it and sing as loud as I can. I used to collect CDs but I rarely listened to them. I didn't always feel comfortable playing the music that I needed to hear so that other people could hear it. For some reason for me listening to music is a very personal experience. I feel deeply freed by the invention of the ipod. Now I can play whatever I want, whenever I want and no one else needs to know.

But then I want to go deeper even than that. If I go back as far as I can my first memories of music were warm, fuzzy ones. I've mentioned before that I lived at a summer camp. Well for the first six years of my life all music was played on guitars and sung in groups. Whether it was just my family sat around a campfire or a group of counsellors and campers singing silly action songs, or a church service deep in the woods, music was about love and joy and being silly together.

So the deeper I think about music the happier I get. That's interesting! I had a really difficult time writing this, and despite my happy musical-beginnings I still don't like to listen to music with other people. So I know that there is more here. I need to go deeper. I think I'll have to look at this some more in another post when the writing is easier.

P.S. I also thought about this in an earlier post about my own personal soundtrack. I created one - if you haven't done this already, what would be on your own personal soundtrack?

Poetry Thursday

* Before I say anything else I need to warn people from my Canadian world that this post is about Mark D. I've never written about him before but he's been in my thoughts a lot over the past few weeks so I thought I needed to honour those thoughts.

Once again, I have worked out a Poetry Thursday entry without reading the instructions first! I am home sick from work. I have some sort of bug so I am sipping tea and watching Oprah. (Funny - no matter which country I am in the sick day is the same - but I sure am missing saltine crackers.)

I have written a poem for Poetry Thursday this week. I haven't written a poem in years but I started scribbling in my notebook yesterday and this is what came out. I feel the need to explain a little. When my Mom was pregnant one of her best friends was also pregnant at the same time. They gave birth three days apart. We shared a playpen - one little blonde head, one little dark one - and grew up close friends. We went to camp together, trained as camp counsellors together, both soon had little brothers (he had two!) and went off to university.

One morning before seven our phone rang. My Dad is a minister so the phone ringing that early often means something bad has happened. I can only vaguely remember what happened next, but my Mom came into my bedroom and told me that my friend had committed suicide. There are no words to describe what happens to you when you hear those words. A part of me shut down in that moment. Mutual friends came to stay with us and all of them asked me how I was. Everyone knew how close we had been but I couldn't cope with those questions. If we had been so close, how could I not have known? Could I have done something? I shut down for many years. I couldn't let myself be sad - I didn't deserve to be sad.

It began to come out years later and eventually I was broken enough and brave enough to go and see a counsellor. We sat and coloured and talked and I finally cried and began to heal enough to think about him again. His Mom and I can finally talk about him a little. And I can finally write about him. So this poem is about all of that. It's here just as I wrote it so forgive the roughness -


When you died
we were twenty.
Two souls -
three days apart.
Salt and pepper
light and dark
girl and boy.

It doesn't get easier -

It gets harder
because some days
I don't think of you at all
and then when I do
I remember.

Where is the line?
The one that you crossed.
The one between
sadness and darkness?
Why couldn't you see
the way back?

I miss you.

There is a hole inside of me
where you used to be
It is surrounded by questions
that you can't answer.

You've missed a lot
you know.
I've danced alone at two weddings
and you're an uncle now.
I'm an aunt, too.
Or do you know that already?

Please
come back.
Explain it all to me.

Two souls.
Three days apart.
But one will be twenty forever
and one never will be again.

Sunday Scribblings #12 - Bed

"When in doubt, take a nap." - Sarah Ban Breathnach

P.S. I had the most wonderfully-connectedy- luscious (and hot) afternoon with some bloggie sisters - check out the pictures Susannah posted!!

I live in amazement when it comes to blogging. No matter where a post starts in my head, it never ends up where I think it will go! This Sunday Scribblings is supposed to be about 'Bed.' I meant to scan just the bed part of the picture and write a story about the girl who owned the bed. But now I just can't seem to get my act together.

I must admit that I co-started Sunday Scribblings as a means to make myself write some fiction. Instead I have used it as a means to look at my life in ways that I haven't before. I have used it as a way to get to know myself and for you to get to know me better. I think I have learned something about myself. Fiction is really not my thing right now. I love to write and I love having written a novel and I love the novel ideas that come into my head. But right now for some reason I just can't fiction. Who knows. It's easier to walk across the river if you don't fight the current right?!

This page is something out of my Illustrated Discovery Journal. I talk about this book a lot and I think I will talk about it more in the future as it really does tell me a lot about myself. It's something Sarah Ban Breathnach talks about in her book 'Simple Abundance.' Basically I go through magazines and anything that catches my eye for any reason I cut out and add to the book. Looking back through the pages I find that I am surprised by the insights I come to about myself. It's like reading a letter from my soul.

But what does this have to do with bed? Well, nothing except that as soon as I sat down to write about bed I thought of this picture. this is my second dream bed. My first dream bed is in my Illustrated Journal that lives under my bed in Canada so you'll have to wait to see it. But I think that this one (indeed this whole page!) says a lot about me. I think you can tell a lot about a person by looking at where they sleep. Right now I sleep in a big bed with white linens. The bed was a hand-me-down so we didn't pick it and Mark picked the linen - so really my bed says almost nothing about me. (Unless you look at the well-loved stuffed dog that lives on my pillow, the four half empty bottles of water on my bedside table, the fairy lights that are wound around the ugly headboard and the selection of various inspiring books by women writers on the floor!) So the bed in this picture should tell you something about who I would like to be.

I would secretly like to have a whimsical life. I would like to stop being practical and afraid and a worrier. I would like to sleep in a bed that makes me smile when I look at it. I would like to have a magical doorway in my house out to a magical garden. I would like to have a funny quirky 'Wendy-house' to write in. (That's what they call the little houses like the one in the picture in the UK.) I would like to be surrounded by friends and flowers and family and faerie-dust. And more than anything I would like to do nothing for income but write.

And yes, I got all of that from the topic of 'bed'. Sheesh.

Poetry Thursday

For this week's Poetry Thursday I have decided to post a link to the poem that I have up in a place of honour on my bulletin board. I've been very girlie/ woman-y lately so I thought that this poem was timely. It's called "Imagine a Woman" and you can find it in it's entirety here.

the measure of a woman

I've just been over to Susannah's site and she has some great headers with Marilyn on them. She inspired me to share this picture. I have been holding on to this for a really long time. It is an ancient Nike ad. I remember the first time I saw it in a magazine. I ripped it out carefully and put it in a big book. Over the years I have found and loved it over and over again.

I'm not sure why I loved Marilyn. I went through a real phase when I was younger. I read all of the books I could find on her. I loved how beautiful and fragile she was. Sometimes growing up the images I found of women were all about being tough and ballsy and in a world of strong role models I think I found her femininity and curves reassuring.

And now as I get older and learn more about the world I appreciate that femininity even more. I often think that somewhere along the line while women were trying so hard to be equal to men many of them forgot that equal doesn't mean the same. Learning to embrace being a woman is something that has taken me a long long time to get to. I wish I had started this journey earlier. I think it is going to be amazing.

an enormous question

"If anything at all were possible, how would you live your life?" - Christiane Northrop

I've been a bad blogger again. I even missed Sunday Scribblings this week - ME! - I just haven't had time. I've been overwhelmed by work and other work and being an auntie and the feelings that that has brought up (gleep!) Does anyone else look at their life sometimes and just shake their head in amazement?

I've been thinking a lot lately about choices and changes. We always look at new babies and see all of this potential and amazingness there. Why do grown people not see that about themselves? At what point in our lives do we lose that sense of anything being possible? Why do we live by a set of limits that make no sense to us? When do we become afraid to be everything we want to be? How can we get that back?

And how can we help new little ones (and other not-so-little ones) keep faith in themselves and their dreams? Whew - that's such a big question isn't it?! xo

My New Niece!!! and Poetry Thursday

This poem has been running through my head (of course it's Shel again!!)

I Won't Hatch!

Oh, I am a chickie who lives in an egg.
but I will not hatch, I will not hatch.
The hens they all cackle, the roosters all beg,
But I will not hatch, I will not hatch.
For I hear all the talk of pollution and more
As the people all shout and the airplanes roar.
So I'm staying in here
where it's safe
and it's warm.
And
I WILL NOT HATCH!

Shel Silverstein

The reason it's been in my head is that my brother and sister- in- law seem to have waited extra-long for their daughter to arrive. She didn't seem to want to be born. But after some nagging and assistance yesterday, SHE'S HERE!! I am an aunt for the very first time!! Her name is Helen and I am just itching to get home to see her!! Three weeks and counting!!

P.S. I have permission to show her off - here she is, all new and wrinkley!!

A race for life.

"What it gets down to is: how do you want to spend your time on earth?" - Meredith Monk

Well, I DID IT!! I completed the 5K 'Race for Life.' It took me about 39 minutes. I admit to doing some walking - up the hill that we had to do twice!! It was such an amazing experience. It was incredibly, scorchingly hot, and there were 5000 women doing it. I had a few moments of concern for my ability to finish the race when I was walking towards the venue. I was following all of these women with messages about who they were running for on their backs. I got all teary and goose-bumpy as I read about people's loved ones and people's struggles. I felt the emotion of the day all around me. It was difficult keeping focused. BUT I DID IT!! (Here is a rare photo of me. I am the one on the left - the one who seems to have lost her eyes somewhere along the route!!)

Three years ago if someone had told me I would be running a 5k (or training for a half marathon) or that I would have finished and sent off a manuscript, I would have laughed and looked down, bit my lip and known full well that it would never happen. I have had a very strange vision of myself. Like I said in an earlier post, I am good at controlling some parts of my life and not others.

In the past little while, however, I have felt like things were changing. I can trace its roots back a few years, but it is only in the past few months that I have really been feeling the effects. I have heard a grumbling - a roar, a growl - deep in my insides. I know almost at a cellular level that there is so much more to me than I have been allowing so far. I have been clenching - holding back huge parts of myself - worrying about so many things. I have been stuck seeing myself as a fat, stuck, struggling writer, and have not allowed myself to see that I am so much more than that. Lately I have sensed that curtain being pulled back a little. I can see my life on the other side. Every time I have gotten a peek I have stumbled back a few steps and had to make my way back there again. Each time I've gotten a little bit stronger. Each time I've gotten a little bit braver. The growing pains have been enormous. I've wondered if it was all worth it.

But this weekend I pushed myself past one of those perceived boundaries. I CAN be strong and fit and healthy. Why not? As I finished the miles I could hear the growl becoming louder and louder. On Saturday I sat down and drew this tulip - pushing past my creative fear for the first time in a long long time. Today I officially started in a permanent job. Saturday I talked to a wonderful new friend for hours. Tonight I spoke to another inspiring friend for the first time. I can feel my life shifting in profound ways.

So when I was drawing this I was pulled to use these words of Liz's to go with it. It captures the way I want to be right now - softly, honestly, and gently continuing to grow and change and be strong - and finding the beauty that is in there. GGgggggggrrrrrroooooooooowwwwwwlllllllllllll!!!!!

Sunday Scribblings #10 - ... earliest memory

I can't believe it is the 10th week of Sunday Scribblings already. Time sure flies!

No matter how hard I try I can't decide on my first memory. I have an amazing memory for things that happened after I was about 7 or 8 but the things that happened when I was really little are a bit fuzzy. I think that the problem is that I don't know if they really are my memories or if they have been taken from pictures or stories that other people have told. I don't remember very much about living at the camp. I am terribly sad about that, because I am sure that every memory would be interesting.

I can remember climbing up my "step-up cupboard." My room had a closet with lots of shelves that I could use as steps to get up to the top. I loved it! I also remember falling and scraping all of the skin off of my knee on our front step. I remember running up the steps to my Mom and getting her to "fix it." But I think that my clearest earliest memory that I know is simply a memory was from when I was about four. I went to a Nursery School near where we lived, but my Dad or Mom drove me to school every day. I remember being at school at the far end of the room (it was green, I think) and looking over towards the door. My Dad had come in and he was holding something in his hands. From that distance I thought he was holding a huge hamburger. ( That part of the memory always makes me laugh - even then I had a thing for hamburgers!!) But as it turned out, he was holding a turtle! He had found it on the road and had brought it in to show the kids at the school before he let it go somewhere safer.

My funniest earliest memory was from my last day of school before we moved away from the camp. I must have been in Kindergarten by then, because my memory of this classroom is red, not green. On the side chalkboard, there was a cardboard cut-out of a shoe for each student. The shoe had yarn laces and your name in big black letters. If you could prove to the teacher that you could tie your shoes, you could have your shoe moved up to the chalkboard at the front of the room. Well, I remember sitting behind my bedroom door on my last day of school, determined not to go until I could tie my shoes. And yes, the tenacious little madam that I was was able to figure it out in time to get my shoe put at the front of the room before I had to leave that school. What a kid!

I think I need to channel her spirit to help me get other things in my life done!!

What are your earliest memories?

control issues

"When it is obvious that the goals cannot be reached, don't adjust the goals, adjust the action steps." - Confucious

This morning I posted a poem by Shel Silverstein about running the world. I feel like I need to write a little bit more about my reasons for choosing it. Last night Mark made some funny comment about me being 'in control.' My response to what he'd said shocked me. I said something to the effect of, "No. I pretend to be in control, I want to be in control, but in fact I am completely not in control." It doesn't sound like anything written here, but it hit me really really hard.

I am a bit of a control freak. I am a real worrier. I'm the girl who needs to be at the airport 4 hours early. Not only that but I usually know which desk I need to go to for check in. I have to check that the doors are locked before I go to bed, and I drive Mark crazy asking what we are going to have for dinner hours (sometimes a whole day) before any normal person would want to know. I need to know what's going on. I need to feel like I am in control.

But there's more to the story. If I need control so badly, why is it that I can't stick to a healthy eating plan? Why is it so darn hard to get up in the morning and go for a run? Why can't I sit at a desk and get some writing done? Why do I put off doing laundry until it is climbing out of the hamper? Why does it take me so long to respond to email? What is wrong with me??

Why do we pick and choose the things that we can control? Why can we make ourselves do some things and not others? Why are we so hard on ourselves over the small things we aren't doing when we are doing so many other things well? How can we learn to be gentle with ourselves without adding even more stress? How can I learn to be more in control of the important things and to let the other things go?

Sigh. Sorry, another big question!

P.S. Further to my "I'd like to move it, move it" post - my Race is on Sunday! Wish me luck!!

Poetry Thursday

I haven't read the instructions for this week yet, but this is the poem that has been in my head today. I am in a Shel Silvertein kind-of place, and this poem is about where my brain is too. I am working through some 'control' stuff. This makes me smile about it.

“God says to me with kind of a smile,
"Hey how would you like to be God awhile
And steer the world?"
"Okay," says I, "I'll give it a try.
Where do I set?
How much do I get?
What time is lunch?
When can I quit?"
"Gimme back that wheel," says God,
"I don't think you're quite ready yet."”

-Shel Silverstein

P.S. I just went to Poetry Thursday and realized that the instruction this week was to find a poem you could read out loud. So I went on line and found this one by Robert Service. It's truly a fun read. This is the first stanza. If you don't know the poem, go here. It's well worth a read!!

There are strange things done in the midnight sun

By the men who moil for gold;

The Arctic trails have their secret tales

That would make your blood run cold;

The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,

But the queerest they ever did see

Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge

I cremated Sam McGee.