• Attention Please

    • July 17, 2010 5:26 am

    Dearest Readers,

    Much of my family has gathered together here in Montreal for the birth of my eldest sister’s first child. It’s a monumental event for all of us. First baby of the first born. First baby out of four women. First boy. We’re all a little mental right now. In a good way.

    My mother arrived on the scene yesterday and with her brought baby pictures of my sister and me, her first two children, born 19 months apart. My older sister and I were very close and it was just us two until #3 came along two and a half years later. Many of the photographs show us hugging or sitting closely or playing together.

    One picture is a wintry scene, taken in the Yukon in December 1973 when I was just two years old. Every Christmas we would head into the bush to find a tree for decorating. My father would chop it down and we’d haul it back to the house for trimming. This became a ritual that involved a number of families. I remember it fondly.

    At least I thought I did. In the picture my sister is eating snow and looking quite content. I look… distressed. The caption on the back, written by my mother, says, “Celia is not too happy, in fact disliked the whole outing intensely.”

    When the caption was read out loud I responded, “Story of my life.” My sister’s partner said, “Really?”

    Really. I was not a very happy kid. I was a miserable teenager. In my twenties I tried to be happy but never really succeeded. So, yes, I really did dislike the whole outing intensely. The “outing” being life in general.

    When did it change? When I hit rock bottom at age 27. I began to walk the Healing Path, which involved getting serious about a Spiritual Practice. Only this devotion to Higher Guidance has brought me what I never had my whole life but sought desperately to find: Peace.

    And believe me, some days are better than others. When I’m overtired, as I was yesterday, that little girl, miserable and in distress, comes right back to front and centre stage, demanding attention. And so I must give it to her. I must honour her needs. After all, we were all babies once.

    Inspiring Message of the Day: When I am miserable and in distress it is usually because one or some of my needs are not being met. I will go Within and find out what I need and then I will honour that need, as I would a crying child.

    The Least Possible Effort

    • July 16, 2010 2:21 pm

    Dearest Readers,

    The baby is only a day old and already I’m exhausted. Imagine how the mother feels!

    Inspiring Message of the Day: When fatigue is great I will resist the temptation to push myself. I will “do the minimum” and trust that it’s enough.

    Introducing…

    • July 15, 2010 3:52 pm

    Dearest Readers,

    I’ve just spent the last twenty hours with my sister and her partner assisting them with the birth of their first child. I’m officially knackered and totally blown away.

    With a little less than two hours of sleep I don’t have a lot of words to offer you today but honestly, what words could possibly do justice to this extraordinary, everyday miracle?

    As my sister likes to say to her man, “We made a brand new person from scratch, baby.”

    Inspiring Message of the Day: It’s a boy!

    Wisdom of the Ages

    • July 14, 2010 8:37 am

    Dearest Readers,

    Today I am going to do a play reading at a Seniors’ Residence in Westmount, the chi-chi Anglophone section of Montreal. The reading is part of a program sponsored by the Playwrights Guild of Canada and the Canada Council for the Arts, which allows community audiences access to playwrights and their work and provides the playwright with a decent honorarium. It’s a great gig.

    This particular venue is a place I hold very dear to my heart because I used to work there. Each week on a Monday night I would spend an hour with the residents reading a play. Actually, they would read the play and I would facilitate. As in, “Mildred, would you read Juliet? And Harold, would you now read Romeo?”

    It was a joy to listen to these elders read characters from Shakespeare to Tennessee Williams. I kept the position for over 2 years and it opened the door to another job I landed at a nursing home. For awhile I thought I might give up life in the theatre to serve the elderly. I was good at it and found it very fulfilling. Then I got a gig at Stratford. That changed everything.

    This morning, as I was trying to choose what to read to the residents I was struck (not for the first time — I’ve had to select excerpts before for a similar gig) by the challenging nature of my work. I write about characters who have experienced trauma and are in the process of finding the Way Out. Maybe not the best subject matter for afternoon tea with the old folks.

    And yet “old folks” have lived a long time. They’ve seen a lot of things. My brain says, “Oh no, this will shock them,” but am I not underestimating their experience? At the same time I would like them to enjoy themselves. I don’t want the experience to be too dark. So the passages I ended up choosing are both (somewhat) challenging and uplifting.

    What I remember most about spending time with the elderly is that they have a lot to teach me. I may be going in there to give them a reading but I’m pretty convinced I’m going to come out of there with a learning.

    Inspiring Message of the Day: When I look at an old person do I see the whole life or do I simply see the “old”? Today I will stay open to learning something from an elder.

    Real Belief

    • July 13, 2010 7:59 am

    Dearest Readers,

    In 1997 I began working on a play called cityzenjive about a rock ‘n’ roll couple whose marriage is breaking up because of addiction and grief. It’s a surreal play with sparse settings, cryptic dialogue and characters named Doggerel, Trade and The Bobber. I wrote it while I was wrestling with my own addiction and grief issues, which, at the time, necessitated answering a deeper call to explore the Spiritual Life.

    At one point in the play, Earle, the addict-husband is having a conversation with Real, the father of his wife Doggerel. They get to talking about having faith and hope and Earle is basically saying he can’t since their two kids were murdered in a school massacre.

    Here is an excerpt of their conversation:

    real

    Doggerel and I have been experimenting with the notion of turning the tragic into the triumphant. Imagine that everything that happens is ultimately for the good. Even the blackest and most sinister. Iā€™m not a religious sort of fellow, Earle. But I like this idea that out of the horror is good forced. Therefore the occurrence.

    earle

    Yeah, well all that keep-trying jazz donā€™t-ever-give-up itā€™s-worth-it-to-fight shite is just not my religion. Itā€™s like, Iā€™m telling you, if I ever got my legs cut off or something man and had to be in a wheelchair? I wouldnā€™t join the handicapped basketball team, you know what Iā€™m sayinā€™? And thereā€™s guys that would. But Iā€™m glad as hell there is guys out there like that ā€˜cause it means I donā€™t have to be. And itā€™s fine to me, okay? I live with it perfect. Nothinā€™s missinā€™. I donā€™t feel the need to fight.

    real

    Did you once?

    earle

    Iā€™m livinā€™ selfish. Thatā€™s what you think.

    real

    I think you would find the strength to live in that wheelchair, son.

    —

    At one point yesterday when I was feeling particularly sorry for myself and focusing solely on how this burn has limited my lifestyle I remembered that conversation I’d written all those years ago. I see it now as a dialogue between the two sides of the person I was at that time. I so wanted to believe in the inherent Good of Higher Guidance and yet I was stuck in the despair of the Old BS (belief system: negative).

    So there I was standing on the street overwhelmed by It All and letting the dark thoughts have their way with me. You know exactly what I did, Dearest Readers. Yuppers. I prayed. Help me. I’m f&#ked. And you also know what happened next. A miracle.

    Out of the corner of my eye I saw a woman I know slip into a nearby shop. This woman just happens to be a Mystic. She just happens to be someone I used to visit with at the very beginning of my Healing Journey for strength and solidarity. Uh-huh. Yeah. I followed her into the shop.

    Our encounter was intense, which was to be expected. This woman lives on a plane which is not entirely of this Earth. Meeting her gaze zapped me right back into Right Thinking sending the Old BS flying and giving me the strength I needed to to move forward.

    To live in the proverbial wheelchair.

    Inspiring Message of the Day: I will continue to shift my thinking from the negative to the positive. I will continue to look for and see the Good in everything that happens.

    Burn After Reading

    • July 12, 2010 8:49 am

    Dearest Readers,

    When I started this blog last year I told myself I was going to commit to posting six days a week for one year. This morning I went back to the old blog site to check the start date. I had a feeling the one-year anniversary was coming soon.

    When I clicked on the first post I saw that it is dated September 21, 2009, later than I’d imagined. When I read the Inspiring Message of the Day I thought, “How apropos.”

    Here is what it says:

    “When something happens to me that I do not like, that feels like cruel and unusual punishment, I will see it as an opportunity for growth. I will use it to change the world, be of service, help others. I will thank the person/place/thing that gave me the lesson, for he/she/it is my greatest teacher.”

    Last week, when I was in New York City hanging out with with my good friend at Bryant Park, the boiling hot tea I’d just purchased got knocked off the table and splashed all over my leg. I’ve been walking around with a second degree burn on my thigh the size and shape of Eurasia ever since.

    Reading the above statement is a good reminder. Pain is one of the quickest ways to head into Why ME? territory and believe me, I know how to hold a pity-party and invite all my friends to come. This burn is giving me the opportunity to put my money where my mouth is.

    How can I use this incident to grow and to be of service? Already it has offered me ample opportunity to practice letting go, an area of spiritual practice where there is always room for improvement. The service part is slightly more challenging as I’m somewhat limited in my physical ability but I am doing my best to be of use to my pregnant sister and her partner in whatever way I am able.

    Primarily, the teaching seems to be about mindfulness (watch what I’m doing, be present, be careful) and non-judgment (practice compassion for those who are suffering). If there is a more clear and obvious answer as to why this happened I haven’t been given it yet.

    When I was praying and meditating on that very question I heard only this: More will be revealed. I’m trusting that and doing that letting-go-thing while I wait.

    Oh, and thank-you burn for the teaching.

    Inspiring Message of the Day: Today I will put my money where my mouth is and practice what I preach. I will uphold the faith I have in a Benevolent and Loving Power and trust that I am here to learn, let go and trust.

    Be of Use

    • July 10, 2010 6:00 am

    Dearest Readers,

    There’s nothing like helping another person to build one’s sense of self-worth and usefulness. When all else fails, being of service to someone else will inevitably bring success.

    Last night I was at a gathering and as soon as I got there I regretted going. I was uncomfortable and felt I didn’t belong. What the heck am I doing here?

    Experience tells me that there’s a reason. I could easily have left. But I trusted that if I stayed I would find out why I’d gone there in the first place. And I did.

    But first I needed to become willing to be of use. Instead of “what am I doing here”, which is all about Celia, I changed the question. How can I be of use?

    I ended up speaking with a young woman who was struggling with some life issues. She was on the edge of something, experiencing high anxiety, and trusted me enough to share her story. I was able to be a listener and a supporter, giving her the reassurance and validation she needed in that moment.

    We parted ways. Her energy had totally shifted. And so had mine.

    Inspiring Message of the Day: The more I am healed, the more I am able to help others experience healing. When I find myself back in a self-centered place I will remember that being of use will bring me Freedom and Purpose.

    Summer Lessons

    • July 9, 2010 12:43 pm

    Dearest Readers,

    When I was a kid growing up in Toronto after we left the wilds of theĀ Yukon my sisters and I would spend a chunk of the summertime takingĀ swimming lessons at the local pool. My mother was pretty good atĀ keeping us active throughout the months of July and August andĀ swimming lessons were just one of the many activities we took part inĀ while on hiatus from school.

    We lived in Cabbagetown and the nearest lessons were offered at JarvisĀ Collegiate Institute, which was about a fifteen-minute walk from ourĀ house. My sisters and I later attended high school at Jarvis (though IĀ got kicked out for skipping too many classes –that’s another blog)Ā but as kids it was still just the nearest local pool.

    Every day for a portion of the summer we’d walk in the heat of the city to good ol’ JCI where we’d head inside to theĀ airless, windowless pool area. There, shut off from the summer sun, we would learn howĀ to perform and perfect all the strokes (front, back, breast and side), tread water and give mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. We’d learnĀ the flutter kick, the scissor kick and the whip-kick, how to scull and bob and how to pull a body to shore.

    It was a heckuvalot of learning and I canā€™t say it thrilled me to death. I used to dread swimming lessons most days. And yet there were things that I loved. I loved the rescue jump (still do), leaping fast into the water withoutĀ letting the head become submerged.Ā I liked head- and foot-first surface dives and the dead-man’s float. And I liked going to the corner store afterward and buying a popsicle for a dime.

    At the end of the summer, we’d get a badge and as the years went by we’d get higher and higher honours, moving from the colours (yellow was pretty beginner, white was getting up there) to the levels (I, II, III etc.) to the Bronze Medallion series. From there you could take more lessons and become a lifeguard. I never made it that far. At some point, I stopped being willing (probably around the same time I got kicked out of school).

    This morning I went for a swim in a friendā€™s backyard pool in a West Island suburb of Montreal. I thought to myself, ā€œIā€™ll do 100 laps!ā€ I ended up doing 50. I may be an overachiever but at least Iā€™ve learned when to quit.

    As I swam each lap I was brought back to the swimming lessons Iā€™d taken as a child. When I did the front-crawl I remembered to keep my elbows high. When I did the breast-stroke I remembered the scissor-kick is more economical than the frog kick. It was impossible to swim without these teachings working throughout my body.

    When I mentioned this experience to my eldest sister, with whom I walked those hot city blocks a hundred times and with whom I shared a gazillion lessons, she said, ā€œMe too!ā€ For her, swimming has a meditative quality now because she becomes totally focused on the form. ā€œIā€™m constantly adjusting,ā€ she said, ā€œMaking the corrections, aligning my body, whatever it is. It takes me to another place.ā€

    How interesting (but not that surprising) that she and I have the same experience. When we swim as adults we are brought back to the lessons of our childhood.

    I suppose thatā€™s what learning is all about!

    Inspiring Message of the Day: When I have to learn something new it may not be immediately clear to me how the lesson will inform my experience. The real learning may not happen for many years. I will embrace learning today knowing the pay-off may be a way off šŸ™‚

    Last Travel Day

    • July 8, 2010 12:04 pm

    Dearest Readers,

    From this seat in the departure lounge of Gate A6 at LaGuardia airport I can see a strip of cloudy blue sky out the small, high windows and not much else. This section of LGA doesn’t get a lot of points for interior design but I’m not complaining. I’m just glad I made it this far.

    After a full month, the road-trip portion of my travels comes to an end with this afternoon’s flight. I have gathered enough stories for a hundred campfires. I have experienced humanity in all its suffering and all its glory. I have walked a little piece of the Earth with Courage and Love as my steadfast guides. What an incredible trip.

    Though I am not heading home to the Yukon today I am heading “home” to Montreal to stay with my sister until she delivers her baby. Apart from a year in Ireland in ’95 I spent a whole decade living in Montreal between 1990 and Ā 2001. Each time I return to MTL she welcomes me back with open arms. Elle dit, “Bienvenue, ma chĆ©re.”

    What I have learned in this last month is a lot. Each day something new, each moment an opportunity to return to Be-ing. This is why I love to travel! Traveling opens the mind and heightens Awareness. The challenges arising from the travel experience force me to focus, BOOM, into the Now. Always. Right. Now.

    Admittedly, I do not do this perfectly. But as I always say, mindfulness is a practice. It’s not a goal we achieve and then we’re done. We do our best and our best is good enough.

    But hey, there’s nothing like a 32-day road-trip to make our best even better.

    Inspiring Message of the Day: What if I brought the Focus and Faith I rely on when I travel into my daily living experience? Today I will BOOM bring myself back into Be-ing as though I were in unfamiliar surroundings and had to do so for survival.

    Day 31 – NYC

    • July 7, 2010 11:10 am

    Dearest Readers,

    Sometimes it’s a pleasure to experience the Healing Path in action, to see how much we’ve changed and witness the devoted work we’ve been doing on ourselves paying off. I got that chance yesterday.

    On an escalator going up (how’s that for a metaphor) a man began to speak to me. His clothes were dirty and, like a snail, he seemed to be carrying all he owned in the world along with him.

    Probably because I gave him a great, big, fearless smile he was soon flirting with me and jokingly saying he was coming with me wherever I happened to be going. He was acting as if he’d just fallen in love.

    Not long ago I would have taken my great big smile back and closed my heart, shutting the door on his advances to protect myself from something “bad” happening. I would have turned cold and made that man re-think his behaviour. I would have allowed shame to rule the situation.

    Not anymore.

    What I have learned is that no one can take away my power unless I willingly give it to them. That man could have made me feel small and vulnerable had I let him. Repeat: had I let him.

    How about I don’t let him? How about I stay open and laugh right along with him? How about I hold my power and stand firm in it? How about continuing to smile that fearless smile?

    Now I’m not suggesting leaving ourselves open to harm. Those of you who read the blog I posted last week about purposefully avoiding a potentially abusive situation know that empowering ourselves also means protecting ourselves. But if the situation is harmless and our safety is assured, a fearless smile and an unguarded attitude makes the world a better place.

    That man and I parted ways, smiling fearlessly and laughing joyfully. We’d reached the top together.

    Inspiring Message of the Day: I will open my heart and embrace my fellow human. I will smile fearlessly and welcome the harmless stranger. I will hold my Power while performing these actions knowing that no one can take It from me unless I give it away.