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Posts by Linda Hunter:
Yours, Mine, OURS
March 29th, 2015Who decided that accumulation of the ‘most’ wins. What if our success was measured by having the least amount of stuff, rather than the max. What if we considered it a triumph to have the smallest home on the block instead of the largest. What if owning was less cool than loaning. What if that childhood lesson in sharing stayed with us. What if you took only what you actually need and shared everything you already have. What if ‘community’ were the currency that people banked, instead of money.
I have often wondered about the concept of ‘owning’ and the fact that we like to attach to things, to call them ‘mine’, to identify items by their belonging. We focus on how much we have as though the more we acquire, the more we have achieved and the more significant our lives. And while many might argue that ownership brings with it a sense of pride, the feeling that we have somehow done it right and done it well, I think it also breeds a different kind of feeling; a feeling of lack that leads to a comparison between scarcity and abundance, a place of envy and greed, where ‘enough’ is never really ‘enough’.
What happens to all this ‘stuff’ we acquire is that we become emotional about it, we want more or better or bigger; we are only ever temporarily satisfied. The more something costs or the more difficult it is to attain, the more tightly we hold on; our grip is in direct proportion to what it took to finally get it and own it. The tighter the grip, the harder it is to soften your hold, and to offer that item up for others, to share, to enjoy, to borrow, to hold, to have, or to keep. Rather than recognizing it for what it is, a ‘thing’, we attach emotion to it. The closer we bring it to us, the further from others it becomes; we become guarded and reluctant to share it; we feel the need to keep it near. We fear what might happen if we take it out of our sight and out of our space. We think about the hard-earned money that it took to acquire it, and that we deserve to have it. We longed for it, then worked hard to get it and now we work even harder to keep it.
If we were more honest with ourselves, many of us might admit that we already have everything we need, and so much more. What if we had a shift in thinking, and loosened our grip. What if we started to consider everything as belonging to all, part of a larger community of things, and freed ourselves of the attachment, and the longing. Perhaps if we focused on need instead of want, we could let more of what we have go; to those who need it, who are living with less or living with different, who might benefit from it now , who could return it to us later.
What if we simply found a way to fill their need with what we have, knowing it might make something easier for someone else, saving them time, money, energy. What if we gave away more than we gathered, fought the feeling and found the freedom of loaning what is ours, rather than owning what is mine. Imagine what we could accomplish if we pooled our resources, and made as much as possible, communal. We could share much more than the community rink, the neighbourhood swimming pool, and the city bike path.
What if we then extended our understanding and our willingness to share, beyond our table and our townhouse, knowing that no man is an island and all life is connected. We could move beyond those who share our bloodline and our border and begin to see everything as ‘ours’ and nothing as ‘mine’ or ‘yours’. We wouldn’t need to make the beach private, buy an island, own a mountain, or restrict airspace. We could leave the shells on the beach, the wood in the forest, the art in the gallery, and we could learn to hold something without having it and to share our gifts with grace.
Photography credit: Andrew Chambers Photography (andrew.chambers@live.ca)
Fact or FICTION
March 18th, 2015We are all a product of the messages we hear, the information we take in, the underlying tale. We learn from others ”don’t go to the edge, save your money, the world is tough, you are great with animals, people cannot be trusted, you should go to university, we are not as rich as they are, you are so talented, acting is not a real job, you look unwell, it’s dangerous to travel, you need to be thinner, you are not good at math , you are beautiful, it’s a dog eat dog world, first is best, God is good.”
And for the most part, their messages come from a place of love, they want to save us from ourselves, and while they don’t mean to stand in our way, they don’t realize that the words stick, we start to believe them. The more that that they are heard, the truer they sound; we begin to trust that their truth is ours. And when it is not them, it is television, Facebook, magazines, music lyrics, and movies. Powerful stories are told about the state of the world, the worst of humankind, why the best is being offered, today, on special, just for you. We tend to believe what is said, what is written, what is on the screen. And then we take what we are told, what we hear, what we believe, and we begin to write our own story, based on facts that could actually be fictional. What you hear is not necessarily THE truth; it is the storyteller’s version of THEIR truth.
And, the story you are now sharing with the world, your truth or someone else’s? That tale you are telling yourself, is it really yours or have you just been repeating it for so long, that even you have started to believe it. The great and wonderful thing about being an author, of your own story and your own life, is that you can make edits, change direction, create a new ending, tell a different story all together. You are in charge of the words, the actions, the plot and in many cases, even the ending. And even if you can’t change all the facts, you can decide how they are delivered, in upper or lower case letters, in a quiet short story or in movie format on a much larger screen. And while you can’t control how it is interpreted, you can decide if the version you are currently telling is fact or fiction, the truth or a version of it, worth sharing, a bestseller, or something you prefer to hide on the back shelf. You can be a ghostwriter, never revealing who you are, or you can write an autobiography, full of details and facts, a history that cannot be altered. It is in fact yours to tell, so perhaps the first thing to do is check the information you are about to include in the ‘story of your life’. Check the research, make sure it is real, true, factual, or at least represents the story you are willing to share with the world. Decide how to present it, what it looks like, how the cover will be designed, how the content will read, what the ending might look like. It is completely 100% up to you what you write, how much you tell, and how honest you want to be, how little you want to reveal. Put it out there and let the reader decide how it is heard, you are only in charge of how it is told.
Once you have had a chance to sift through what is coming in and to apply your own filter to what is going out, now you need to check yourself, when you start to judge others, and think you know their story. What you are hearing from others, interpreting to suit your vision of reality, are you sure that it’s real, are you really seeing them and knowing them, or are you judging them by the cover, looking at what’s in front without reaching in a little further. Start looking a little harder, start reading between the lines. What we see is not only what is in front of us but also what is in our mind’s eye, and what ‘they’ want us to see; you do not know their truth, it may look like fact and be a clever piece of fiction.
That beautiful girl next to you at the market, is hiding her secret, behind the latest fashion, and a face full of fresh, she goes home to an empty room and an empty heart. That man you so admire for his prowess at work, and his endearing smile, hides insecurity and falsehoods, old hurt behind a new suit. That girlfriend, who reads like a success story, is hiding her fears and her downfall. That child, who is running in the park, is fighting a losing battle with illness. That doctor was last in his class, that taxi driver is keeping seven people fed, and that woman who isn’t at the meeting, does care about the cause, but is too busy caring for her dying father.
Assume nothing, question everything, listen loudly, speak softly, believe some of what you see, tell only what you can, be the author as well as the storyteller.
Photography credit: Andrew Chambers Photography (andrew.chambers@live.ca)
Life after DEATH
February 28th, 2015What if time were not on your side? What if you were running out of months, weeks days? What if your number was up, and you were not long for the planet? Would you reflect and regret, wish for something different; to have seen more, done more, been more? Would you have wanted to live a different truth?
Many are currently quietly fighting battles for which there is no victory, other than peace. Many are living lives that are not full but diminished by illness or by suffering. Some have been told of their fate, some are waiting on the news, still others have no idea what is coming. Some have embraced it as a gift, learning and living more in their last days than all the days before, some are resigned, some have accepted, many are walking a path of grace.
For anyone who has this day and perhaps more in store, we may want to take a look at the life we are living, and use this precious time, to do what we need to do – live the life we were are meant to live.
Years ago, I participated in an exercise that changed things for me. I was in my early twenties, lots of time, plenty of promise. I was asked to write my obituary, not an easy task; to imagine that day, that final day, and what my life might represent as I faced my end. The idea was to imagine the life you want to live, and to write down how you might like to be remembered, what legacy you would leave, what contribution to the world you would make along the journey. Then, once you had written it, and were happy with this life you led, the idea was to go out and live it; by looking forward and reaching back, you could pave the way.
At some point, it will be too late to go back, to do or undo. Time and space, and age and health will determine what we are able, no matter what we dream. Perhaps today, if you are in good health and have a vibrant spirit, you can live the life you imagine, long before the story is written about you, you can actually WRITE your own story, starting now.
And while the journey is often filled with challenge, for the most part, we stand in our own way. We doubt that we are able, believe we not worthy, talk ourselves out of what is possible, and into what is probable. We pile our reasons high enough to cast a shadow on our dreams, and we walk a path that is most traveled, fearing what we don’t know, can’t imagine, are not sure of. We leave it all for later, believe there will be another time, when we are more comfortable, better suited, have enough money, time, energy, inspiration; when it feels right.
Well, time is running out, whether you know it, believe it, or acknowledge it. Every day, the chance to live the life, YOUR life, the one you are meant to live, is slipping away. It is not about how much you accomplish or earn, where you travel, what you own, the degrees or accolades you accumulate, how many know your face, listen to you talk, or show up at the end to wish you well. It’s about living the life, you and only you were meant to live, the real and authentic one that was gifted to you at birth. It is not about proving you lived a big life, a great life, a loud life; it’s about knowing you lived the right life, the right life for you.
For me, many years have passed and I have now lived on the planet longer than I will remain. My obituary has changed with me and with time and it now simply reads, “I walked this earth. I tread lightly. I loved deeply.”
Photography credit: Andrew Chambers Photography (andrew.chambers@live.ca)
Fast FORWARD
February 12th, 2015What is it about the future that we are convinced will be better than now, than this very moment? Why are we always reaching beyond our grasp; do we imagine the future is more hopeful, holds more promise or more possibility? Do we realize that all of those future moments that we once wished upon, have already come and gone and have been our present, and become our past; today is last week’s future. Is it what you dreamed?
On Monday morning, the news shows are already predicting the upcoming weekend weather. By Wednesday, friends are sharing their plans, wishing the remaining three days away until Saturday arrives; living for what is yet to come. In our most difficult times we can be heard saying “as soon as this is over” or “I just have to get through this” or we can hear ourselves lamenting, “I need a break, need to get away, need a vacation”. For many, their happy place is in the distance; a cool calm forest, a warm beach, a sun filled destination. It’s a place where they can relax, a future with no deadlines, no worries, a sense of calm, a place of peace, a sigh of relief. It’s as though there is a place in that future moment where they can create some space, catch their breath, find a moment for themselves, where they can think beyond their present thoughts, put it all together, where there will be more quiet, more calm, less to concern themselves with.
The problem with this thinking is that we are never able to find refuge in the present, that future moment becomes the next present moment, and once again we are looking forward, into a future moment. What we need to understand is that it’s not a place to get to; it’s a place to be. We can find that quiet place, anytime we want to, it’s within us, and it’s always available. We have to trust that when we need it most, it will appear. We can call it up and take a moment, separate ourselves from what’ is going on outside of us, and go within. What if we learned to stop what we are doing, for the moment, to simply close our eyes ,unplug, turn off, shut down, if only for a moment. What if we could turn inward, find that destination inside ourselves; we could travel there, anytime we need a safe and still place to be, to hide, to stay. What if we carved out own sun filled destination, a place of peace in the present rather than in a dream of the future. What if instead of waiting for a Saturday stroll, we pulled the car over on the way home today, walked the beach or the trail this afternoon, or simply sat by the edge of the park right now. What if we didn’t wait to get through it, but found a way to be in it, to surrender to it, to live it and to add some calm right now, in this moment, where we are. What if we didn’t wish it away but wished instead for courage, strength and grace in the moment, took a breath or a few and then moved forward. What if we understood that all we truly have is this very moment, and that we can determine how that moment is spent, and that living for a future moment last week or yesterday, brought us here to this one, right now, this is that future, right now, where we are standing, the one we were thinking about, dreaming of, wishing for, not so long ago.
The problem with waiting to get through something or over something or for things to slow down, change, get better or get different is that it may be a very long time before any of that happens. And even with change, the next thing that’s just around the corner may be harder, sadder, even more difficult. So, we find ourselves in ‘waiting and wishing’ mode. And in the meantime, we are no longer in the moment, nor are we able to summon what we need in that moment; asylum, shelter, grace.
If we could just breathe a little longer, stand still in our own shadow, quietly, not thinking about the next thing, but being in this thing, if only for a short time, it might be enough. We might learn to summon it anytime; to get good at it, find a way to have it on tap, close by, within earshot and heartshot and we could call it up. We could start to string these ’being present’ moments together; allowing us to live today without wishing for another. Then the weekend might not be what we need in order to escape what we have, but would in fact be, just the present moment, once it arrived. Perhaps then, we could embrace a future that no longer holds any power, and instead holds only promise.
Photo credit: Andrew Chambers Photography (andrew.chambers@live.ca)
The Measure of a Man
January 30th, 2015What if you didn’t open the report card? What if instead, you relied upon their actions, on what you see before you, on what you know to be true? Would you know how your child is doing in school, at home, in life, in the world?
We need school teachers; those who lift us up from where we are lying, who impart information and wisdom , who cause a shift in perspective, who teach us what we need to know and what we don’t want to hear. We need teachers who reach out to a part of us that is inaccessible, hardened to the news, who cause us to open, to awaken, to move onward.
I am not convinced, however, that we need the report cards.
I never quite understood why report cards are so valued, considered so important. Dreaded by many who don’t want to disappoint parents, report cards reflect if you are on par, how much effort has been made, how smart you are, how far you have come, what’s needed in order to ‘improve’. They reflect how you measure up, if you are like the rest, on track; ready for moving up or moving on. Celebrated by those who hold the highest letter grade, the best report cards somehow show you have learned it well, are smarter than the rest, better in some way, achieved, ready for the next phase. Report cards are meant to show and measure progress.
When our children were small, I didn’t need a report card to tell me what they knew or how they were progressing. I knew that our daughter understood the story we were reading, the message in the movie, how to measure wet and dry ingredients for baking cookies. I recognized that one son couldn’t put the letters or sounds together, that he understood the concept of equality and justice, and that his frustration was difficult to manage but would later be seen as a sign of strength. We knew that our other son who hardly spoke, knew the words, but was selective; preferring to say only what was meaningful, which meant being quiet much of the time. We knew they could write because they created ‘thank you’ cards when appropriate, found the right groceries on the shelves, and recognized their name on the gift. We knew they understood math, when they saw their height on the door frame, ran out of extra money, knew what time it was when the sun went down. They could read numbers from delivering newspapers, understood train timetables from traveling, and discovered that one pair doesn’t last when you are away for a whole month. We knew they understood; the value of friendship, what World War II meant to their grandfather, how to be compassionate when a sibling was in a cast. They learned about sharing at the dinner table, about abundance from the garden, about scarcity from the food bank, about animals from watching pets live and die. They figured out what it means to be first in line, last in the race, and the middle child. They figured out what bullying is, what kindness is, what sorrow is. They knew how to make a muffin, make a mess, make a difference. They learned about the world from going there, about science from building and biking. They figured out what to wear by putting their hands out the window and their feet in the puddle. They found out about honesty when things went missing, about love when someone died, about commitment when the team wasn’t winning. They learned about sharing when they were hungry, about fear at the top of the slide, about physics while riding a skateboard. They understood that they grew taller with time, more knowing with experience, more enlightened as they opened up.
What I believe might be a more accurate measure of who our children are, is the way in which they walk their journey, interact with those with whom they share the road, and what they offer up to others along the way.
My thought is that we keep the teachers and throw away the report cards. That we replace the reports with rapport, with a conversation that is meaningful, with an open and honest look at the progress of a person. I don’t remember what my children’s grades were in grade seven English, Math or Geography. But I know they write me beautiful messages, can cook with the right amount of curry, and know exactly in what part of the world, their next plane is landing. I know they walk a gentle and meaningful path in this world, are heart centred and spirit fed, and they measure their own worth, without input or grades but by sentiment and service. They are lifelong learners, figuring out what matters most, what’s worthy of their time, what no longer serves them; they are making their mark.
Photo credit: Andrew Chambers Photography (andrew.chambers@live.ca)
No Substitute for HAPPINESS… or is there?
January 15th, 2015What is it about the state of HAPPINESS that has it in such high demand? Parents often wish only for their children to “be happy’ while the world and the web are filled with ideas and strategies around searching for and finding our bliss. Some suggest that we may be able to create a world of fulfillment, that we may even have control over our own happiness; invite luck, work hard, aim high, be the best, have more, be more, do more. Still others, with a different view, teach us to merely enjoy small pleasures, the simple things in life and that by going within we can intend it, create it, and manifest it. Either way, it is apparently within our own means to find and maintain it; worthy of a lifetime of searching, because the alternative, being without it, should somehow leave us feeling ‘less than’.
I think we have it all wrong, it’s an impossible quest. While I agree that happiness is a beautiful thing, the preferred state, worth finding and keeping when we can, I also think it is fleeting, difficult to maintain continuously or at a high level, and tenuous; anything can happen to us at any time, and happiness can leave us more swiftly than it came. We have created an expectation that we ‘deserve’ to be happy, that it is an ideal within our grasp, and that feeling less than joyous means that something must be wrong; with us, with the way we are living, with our current state of being, with the choices we are making. And once we fall from a state of happiness, we are encouraged to spend time, energy, and effort, searching for it once again, as though our current state, whatever it may be, is somewhat less than perfect.
We have grown uncomfortable with that uneasy feeling that lies between the last and the next bout of happiness. And while we live in hope of joy returning at some point, we can never really be certain; that it will come again, that it will stay, that it won’t forsake us. Arriving usually from the outside, it stops in for a short visit or sometimes settles down for a longer stay but is impossible to maintain in any permanent state as it is completely dependent on circumstance and criteria.
For if it were possible, would we not be saying that when suffering, sadness, and darkness find us, that happiness can remain alongside, or push out those new unwanted feelings entirely. Surely, this cannot be the case. When our state becomes one of grief or suffering, when we are depressive, or feeling the world’s overwhelm, weighed down by worry, how can we possibly feel happy? And would it not be healthier and better, to in fact, honour that new state, regardless of how painful, so that we can work through it, rather than stuff it down or ignore it’s pangs. All emotions serve us in some capacity and rarely does it help to stifle what is true and present, for what we desire or wish for the future, even when it hurts, regardless of how unwelcome.
What I believe might serve us better than happiness, is PEACE. Peace can be with us continuously and maintain a steadfast state. What is remarkable about peace is that it can withstand the test of time, can live in a place that is happy or not, in darkness and in light; it can accompany us in our worst of times. Subject to criteria or circumstance, happiness ebbs and flows, but peace is not contingent; it is a constant, an unwavering companion, with us always, available at all times, in our moments of greatest need. When we suffer, are lonely or alone, are without and overcome, overwhelmed and underneath, ill or even dying, it may be impossible to be happy. But it IS possible to be at peace. Even in despair, we can lean in and surrender to what is, accept that which is going on in and around us, provide a calm and serene place of spirit. We can fall to our knees; find a safe place to land. A sense of peace allows us to be still and vulnerable, to take on what we encounter and to find a way to accept it, walk alongside it, pave a path of grace. It allows us to remain grounded, comfortable in our own skin, on an even keel, neither up nor down, but sitting still, in a good place, or just ‘in place.’ Not dependent, peace does not arrive or leave, but can sit quietly, forever present, able to take on whatever comes our way.
Imagine what we might do for our children if we could raise them with a sense of peace, heart centered and spirit fed. What if we told them this truth; that there may be hard times, difficult, gut wrenching, sad, lonely and empty times, heart aching, bone weary, lower than low times, but that, with a sense of peace, feeling surrounded and held, that they can handle it, regardless of the outcome. What if we told them this truth; this may be as good as it gets, the road may be longer than they have the strength to step, the journey may be painful, harder than they anticipate, frightening and difficult, but that, with a sense of peace, they can not only accept it and endure it, but can eventually find a place of serenity in their steps and perhaps even gratitude for the lessons and the learning; a place of wisdom and welcome for the gifts.
We cannot save our children from the planet, from truth, from sadness or heartache, from darkness or their destiny. But in a world that is ripe with conflict, chaos, hurt and hurry we can reframe the answers, show them a way to peace, a place where they can relax their opposition, simply say ‘yes’ to whatever is coming, has arrived, has stayed, won’t leave. We can take the pressure off their ‘finding happiness’ and we can help them find a way to shine a light on the moment, open their minds to possibility, and lean into a shift in perspective. Rather than argue what cannot be altered, we can help them surrender, to be ‘present’ to what is present, to embrace rather than resist, to pull strength from faith or fact, and to wade in, knowing that they can weather the storm, able to face rather than fear.
Photo credit: Andrew Chambers Photography (andrew.chambers@live.ca)
less is MORE
January 1st, 2015At the beginning of a new year, we often experience that ‘fresh start’ feeling. We reflect on our mistakes of the past, the goals we didn’t meet, the dreams we didn’t fulfill. We determine to make it a year that includes more; more to do, more to accomplish, more to change, more to have, more trips to take, more money to make, a life that is bigger and better.
What if instead of making lists and grand plans and trying to be ‘so much more’ this time around, we took a kinder, gentler, quieter approach. What if instead of preparing a strategy or game plan for the next 12 months, we simply used this year as an opportunity to become more aware, more mindful, making decisions in the present, as we moved along, each step of the way. What if we took the pressure off, just kept things simple and tried to improve in small ways, every step of the way; be more about goodness than the goods. What if we were more forgiving of ourselves and others, and just did the best we can, with what we know, and what we already have. What if we looked inward, in our hearts and in our homes and instead of adding to the pile, we adjusted to the whole of what we already have in our lives.
What if we decided to be more conscious in our decision making, took time to weigh it up before moving forward. What if we didn’t buy it as soon as we saw it, but instead we waited, to see if we really need it, can afford it, have room for it, want to look after it. What if we worried less about what others think, and gave it some real thought, our own thought and then made up our own mind. What if we looked around and decided; it’s good enough, we have enough, we are enough. What if new didn’t mean better, it just meant new. What if you turned off your TV, your Facebook, your online news source; you wouldn’t know what you were missing, and you would look within and could be without, or with what you have already.
What if, this year, we were less concerned about what we owned and what we had, and more concerned about what we loaned and what we shared. What if we didn’t attach to our attachments, if we looked at the larger picture, the greater need, our ability to help and provide for others? What if we looked at the common good? What if the only currency we used was ‘community’? What if we found ways to provide support instead of stature?
Instead of adding; to our list, to our square footage, to our debt, to our bank account, to our stuff, to our heavy hearts, to our accomplishments, to our stress, to our guilt, to our closets, to our load, to the pile, why don’t we instead, decide to give away: things we no longer need, time we have to spare, that which doesn’t serve us, extra money we can share, food we’ve grown, lessons we’ve learned, love we have.
This year, why don’t we simply decide, that less really is MORE
Photo credit: Andrew Chambers Photography
Christmas…opening my present
December 17th, 2014This Christmas, we will celebrate as we always do; with food and friendship and family. We will open our doors and our hearts and invite the spirit of the season to join us as we share our offerings and our table. We’ll be grateful and reflect on our blessings; we are together, we are here, we are home.
And this year, once again, while we won’t be opening gifts, I will be opening my present…the present. This year I am going to make every effort, to stay in the moment, each individual moment, and to be fully awake and conscious in that moment, focused on the present; not distracted, not looking forward, not reaching back.
I am going to plan as I always do, for the extra people, and the special activities and events that come with this very busy time of year. I will think about bringing in extra provisions, baking some delicious foods, and stocking up on firewood and candles, treats and trimmings and I will look forward to impromptu visits and opportunities for community connections.
But I am going to try harder to slow right down, to stay calm amid the chaos, to see what’s just in front of me, rather than looking down the road. I am going to try and not anticipate the next menu, the next activity, the next day. I am going to make an effort to stay in the here and now, concentrate on the feelings that are being felt right now, on the conversations being spoken now, on the music and the moment, right now.
I am going to listen intently to the stories, relax into the Christmas movies, accept what is not done, what may not happen, what was forgotten or what can’t be changed. I am going to work on acceptance, rather than anticipation, on staying grounded and grateful, in this moment of time, where I am and with whom I am with, knowing that this moment is all I really have for sure. I am going to sink down into what it feels like to be Christmas, that warm and wonderful feeling of peace, that is all about leaving behind what doesn’t serve me, and leaning into what does; living and loving in the present.
Hush…
December 11th, 2014In a world that is most often ‘plugged in’ and ‘turned on’, it may be difficult to imagine a space that invites silence in, that sits quietly waiting for you, that welcomes no sound at all. It is in that space however, where we learn to listen best; to hear the voice, the message, and to sit with stillness, without distraction, and in peace. Every chance you get, lean into that hush, that serene place of ‘still’ and it will reward you; with clarity, with calm, with reverence, and then a readiness to step forward, back into the noise, where we most live and love.
Sounds lovely doesn’t it; inviting, rewarding, worth seeking out? If that’s true, why are so few choosing it, making room for it, working toward it? I think it is this very silence, the stillness and the clarity, we most fear. I don’t think we want to hear the voice, heed the message, sit in stillness. I think if we are truthful, we much prefer the distraction, the business, the louder noises drowning out the quieter one, the nagging one, the one that begs to be heard. I am not convinced that clarity and calm are our preference. In fact, while we talk about how much we yearn for it, I think we are secretly pleased to wade through life’s noise, with a vision of serenity far in the distance, close enough to feel its presence but far enough away to feel elusive and remain unattainable.
As long as we have no time, no space, then we can put it off, listen later, forgive ourselves for taking more time. If we don’t hear it then we can continue to deny that which is our truth. What would it mean if we stopped long enough to listen, stood still enough to really hear that message, to let it penetrate our thoughts, to feel the weight of our wonder? Would it mean we would have to follow our own advice, do something, take action, create a plan, make a move? What would be our excuse for not listening, for not following the instructions of our heart, the directions we are being led with? Are we in fact, afraid that if we did slow down long enough to hear the message, we might have to do something with it, recognize that we are not doing what we need or are meant to be doing. We would have to admit that we have not been hearing all along what our hearts desire is, what it is we truly want. It would mean we would have to face our fears, our vulnerability, that we might have to make a change; in direction, in desire, in the status quo, in our life. We might have to pick a new path, head down a different road, be uncomfortable in order to welcome real comfort.
While we say we want peace, some calm, more quiet, what is true is that our full lives serve us. All of the space and time are taken up by daily life, by our long ‘to do’ lists, and by the many obligations that we feel we must fulfill. We consider it a luxury, even a waste, to slow down, to take time for ourselves, to push other things aside and to create space for something else to move in.
Here’s what I know; that we can put it off forever, we can pretend it isn’t there; we can distract ourselves for hours and years. In the end, however, if we fail to hear the voice, receive the message, heed the lesson, we will feel it forever. In our heavy heart, in our nagging headache, in our weary body, in our sadness, in our smaller life than anticipated and in a less than rich existence. We will leave our true purpose behind, while in our quiet despair, we live a life that is mostly doing, and much less being. We will know it in our soul, that we could have served our truth and we will die without singing the entire song.
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In July 2014, I was honoured to speak at a www.younlimited.com luncheon in Victoria, BC and to introduce a Silent Lunch to those in attendance. This is a clip of my speak ‘Getting Quiet’ that I gave before and after we enjoyed some quite time at our shared tables. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g29JXsbng6M
Bring on the BIRTHDAY!
November 28th, 2014What is it about growing older, having yet another birthday, reaching ‘a certain age’ that many in our society do not want to acknowledge, welcome, celebrate, honour or remember? We don’t want people to ask us our age, or which birthday we are celebrating, or what number we are on. We live in an age where youth is where it’s at; looking forward with everything ahead of you, the possibilities abound, and you can do anything, be anything and all of it with vitality, energy and wellness. We teach them they have a life ahead of them, to dream, to plan, that anything is possible, that being young is where you want to be, that there are more advantages than disadvantages.
For those of us on the other hand, for whom our time on the planet is edging closer to sunset than sunrise, few seem to want to acknowledge that time is running out. Well I am there, at a place where I am older now than the years I have left, comfortable in my own skin, accepting of the wrinkles and a few age spots, with a little extra weight and a little less energy, feeling grounded and grateful, experienced, a little wiser than before, and a lot more ‘awake’, aligned, alive, and tuned in. More than ever before in my life, I am “wired for wonderful”.
Here’s what I know; that we are so much more fortunate than those who have already left this earth, we have more moments; this one, right now, for sure. We have more time to be and to do, more opportunities to ‘get it right’ to say what needs to be said, to walk the paths that are yet untraveled, to love and learn and to let go of what doesn’t matter or hold meaning any longer. We get to celebrate being; being, alone or with people we care about, with the sun on our face and sand under our feet, listening to birds, feeling, tasting, touching. We are lucky to have another chance, another sunrise, another sunset, perhaps another year, among friends, in the land of the living, buoyed by the memories of those who are no longer sharing our light. We can still make a difference, make a memory, be of service, forgive, find peace.
I recognize that not all the change is welcome and that for many, the struggle is difficult to manage, that suffering and sorrow joins the journey and that the process of moving forward is often tethered to the past. We know our bodies may fail us, our minds may dull, and that we may never be quite as good again as we are right now, in this exact moment. When does it change from being young enough to look forward to being old and only able to look back?
What if we were to lean into a different definition of ageing and start feeling more at home with growing old, attach more goodness to it? My 85 year old mother walks and talks more slowly, takes longer to make decisions, can do fewer things faster, and needs more rest in between. But how lucky are we that she is still here to make us laugh, to tell the stories of a time we cannot know and will soon be forgotten, to add a richness that comes with living long and a wisdom that sheds light in a different direction and causes us to pause. She adds another layer to our lives, a different dimension than the young ones bring. She knows more, understands more, and with the weight of a ticking clock, wastes less time or energy on what’s not important. She says yes more than no, understands death is closer than birth and remains grateful for the quality of her time here.
My father used to say ‘you can sleep when you’re dead”, and that he was going to use up every moment; working full time until almost 81, driving his car, enjoying his family. He wasn’t bothered about growing old, age was just a number, and in fact, until the leukemia diagnosis, he had his sights set on turning 100. Granted, ageing for men, is a much different experience than it is for women, both inwardly and outwardly in a world dominated by ‘youth’ and outer beauty, but he was right – we have an opportunity to be present while we are still present here on earth.
So while my body and the photographs show a timeline, I continue to grow grateful for every day that I can walk on a planet where so many footsteps have previously made their way, where so many wonderful humans have shared this space. And while I am clearly closer to my end than my beginning, being here is better than not being here, and living and loving will always beat leaving, and while I remain at peace with the idea that my time will come, I am having a blast while I am still upright and looking forward to blowing out the next round of candles!
*This blog post is dedicated to the past and to the present; to the memory of my Dad who died ten years ago tomorrow and to the moments I gratefully share with my wonderful friend Carolyne Taylor who was born 50 years ago today.
