• Animal Love

    • December 18, 2009 8:38 am

    Dearest Readers,

    Being self-employed is challenging sometimes but it has its rewards, too. I get to stay in my PJ’s all day (but I don’t — well… sometimes I do), I am free to do things like take a nap if I need one, run out and get groceries or meet a friend for tea. I also get to interview caribou.

    That last one was my Christmas bonus. Some people get a few extra dollars, I got to have a love-in with a caribou cow name Boo.

    As some of you know, I took on a contract to create a 30-minute live/video performance on behalf of the Yukon for the 2010 Olympics in Vancouver. Our show will be performed at BC Place Stadium on February 20th. We open for the Stereophonics so get your tickets now!

    Early on in the process of creating this spectacle I decided to take a Rick Mercer approach and interview locals in the search for the quintessential word describing what it means to be a Yukoner, what it means to live in this magnificent place.

    The answers have been surprising and powerful. Yukoners of all different ages and backgrounds have shared the essence of their experience of living here and its been a privilege to be on the other end of the microphone.

    But no Yukoner yet has been as loving and affectionate toward me as Boo. She nuzzled and bumped me so fervently I was knocked to the ground. She buried her head (watch out for those antlers!) in my lap and if those front legs could have hugged me no doubt they would have been wrapped around me in a full embrace. It was heaven.

    Never mind the food I had in my pocket, she was in love! And so was I.

    Thank you to Krista and Marie at the Yukon Wildlife Preserve for allowing us to come and shoot the footage. What a wonderful place we have here. A vast, open space where rescued, injured or orphaned animals can recuperate, many of them eventually returning to the wild.

    And I won’t tell you what Boo’s word was. It’s our secret.

    Inspiring Message of the Day: Look to the animal for inspiration. What quality do you most admire? Wisdom? Tenderness? Ferocity? Love without judgment? May we seek to better embody these qualities ourselves.

    Future-Tripping

    • December 17, 2009 10:30 am

    Dearest Readers,

    Today’s post might be a bit of a meditation practice in itself. To breathe, to be here now, with each word as I type it. I’m buzzing with anticipation for the day ahead, which involves shooting a segment of video for the show I’m presently creating. I need to slow down my thinking.

    Blog entries about the practice of being present in my life come often, don’t they? They can never come often enough. It is a daily practice. Actually, it’s a moment-to-moment practice because the mind is always moving forward and the remembering must be constant.

    That’s almost what being present is: remembering. “The power of now” and “being here now” and “living in the moment” are ideals. When I teach yoga I say, “The nature of the mind is to think.” The mind thinks, that’s what it does. In order to step back from the thinking mind I must remember to return to the experience of now.

    So that is what I’ve been doing since I woke up. My mind is future-tripping big time to the arrival of the videographer, to our drive out of town, to the shoot, to the drive back, and on and on. I’m living out the day in my head and forgetting where I am.

    And so I must engage in the active effort to remember that I am not there yet, I am here. I must return to this moment, the only one there is. This is certainly challenging because it feels like I have to do it every single second but the practice is worth the reward. For I am then in my life, the only one I really have, the one that is unfolding here and now in reality.

    Inspiring Message of the Day: The life that plays out in my head is a fantasy. It is not real. I will continue, throughout the day, to actively remember to be in my real life as it unfolds in the present moment. I will step out of the thinking mind and experience the now.

    Kind of…

    • December 16, 2009 10:24 am

    Dearest Readers,

    Lately I’ve been provoked by Internet challenges. Slowness, no connection, you name it. Depending on how I’m doing personally, my response to this kind of situation is either to shrug it off or to feel my blood actually boiling with frustration.

    What I have trouble remembering (but am very grateful when I do) is the idea that problems with computers and other electronic devices are, in fact, an opportunity for me to practice the art of letting go.

    If something is not working, walk away. Why is this so difficult? Why do we insist on trying to make something work when it is clearly not going to happen?

    It’s the old “my way or the highway” syndrome. I want what I want and I want it now. Trouble is, there isn’t much serenity to be had with this kind of thinking/behaviour.

    The other day, a friend and I were talking about the saying that goes “Would you rather be right or would you rather be happy?” My friend said she’d heard a gal say that she didn’t “get” the expression for a long time because, well, she was right.

    That’s the problem. We think we’re right.

    When that same maxim was taught to me it was presented a little differently. I heard it this way: “Would you rather be right or would you rather be kind?”

    This was an easier question to answer. Happiness is elusive. And letting someone/something else be right doesn’t necessarily bring it on. But being kind? Somewhat simpler, infinitely more rewarding.

    When I’m having technical difficulties and my anger is brewing I am definitely in the “my way or the highway” mode. The thing is wrong and I am right. I should be getting my way.

    So how can I put the above saying into practice? How can I be “kind” when the opponent is a computer or an electronic device? Refraining from throwing it across the room is not exactly kind but it’s a good start.

    I can also look at the fact that it’s not helping matters to force my hand. It’s not changing the situation. In fact, it’s making it worse.

    The hardest thing in the world might be to walk away, shut it down, or leave it alone, but by doing so I’m affirming my willingness to surrender. I do not have to be right. I do not have to get my way. I can let go.

    It’s being kind. To myself.

    Inspiring Message of the Day: Honestly, I would rather be right. But being right has never made me a better person. Nor has it brought me any peace. Being kind has taught me humility and infused me with dignity.

    Bear With Me

    • December 15, 2009 8:16 am

    Dearest Readers,

    When I was a child I had a Steiff Teddy Bear. I didn’t know it was a Steiff, which is a high-quality, German brand of plush toys, until much later in life when it would have meant something to me to own so swish a toy. As a girl, however, it was simply a bear that I loved.

    I also had a tiny little bear named Baby Growl-y. I don’t even know how to spell it. Did I come up with the name? My mother would know.

    When I got a little older, not yet old enough to think teddy bears were un-cool, still on that threshold between childhood and youth, I acquired Charles, a giant, white teddy bear.

    Charles was a Christmas present. I remember sneaking downstairs in the early morning before anyone else was awake to have a sneak-peek at the presents. I saw the bear, unwrapped, sitting up, alert and ready for love. I knew he couldn’t possibly be for me. I was too old. Surely he was for one of my younger sisters. Oh, heartbreak!

    Later, when the whole family was gathered around the tree to open presents and my father picked up that bear and said my name, I leapt for joy and hugged his softness to my little budding body. He was mine! And Charles seemed an appropriate name for he was a very proper bear.

    For some reason my mother continued to buy me bears right up until a few short years ago when I had to tell her to stop. She knows I have a love of bears, all bears, one might even say the Bear is my Totem Animal, but I’ve outgrown the stuffed bear, no matter how adorable.

    Or have I?

    Yesterday, because of some healing work I’ve been doing, I felt a deep connection to the little girl that I was all those years ago. That small child who was innocent and free, loving and hopeful. The girl I was before the harshness of the world made itself known to me. The girl who didn’t yet know shame.

    That little girl could receive the tender hugs of a teddy bear. She needed them.

    So, for her, I bought a gift. A giant, pink, plush teddy pig. Or would it be a piggy bear? Either way, it’s darn cute. And very huggable. Just what a little girl needs at Christmas time.

    Inspiring Message of the Day: We need hugs. We need tenderness. Sometimes we can receive these things from people but other times we need the soft and all-embracing love of a child’s toy to give us that comfort.

    Suck it Up

    • December 14, 2009 8:04 am

    Dearest Readers,

    I vacuumed the apartment yesterday. I could write this as the Inspiring Message of the Day and leave it at that. No kidding. When I vacuum it’s a miracle.

    Organization and neatness are important to me. I like order. The apartment in which I live is fairly spare and everything has its place. My work desk can often be a mess but it doesn’t last. After a couple of days I’ll stack papers and clear off unwanted business.

    But vacuuming? I’ll put it off forever. For some reason cleanliness is less important to me than tidiness. The place will look immaculate because of its orderliness but upon closer inspection you’ll often see that the dust bunnies have turned into full-grown rabbits.

    It’s a blessing that I have to travel a lot for work not because I get to see the world but because I’m forced to vacuum for the housesitter. This excuse brings great relief. “I have to vacuum! Thank GOD.”

    Too bad I’m not going to be around to enjoy it. By the time I get back the place is ready for another pass with the hoover and I’m counting the days until my next trip.

    What’s that all about? How can I love a tidy house but not care about a clean one?

    Lazy. There aren’t too many areas in my life where laziness still reigns but this is definitely one of them. But I’m hopeful. Change is possible. I have often visioned myself vacuuming the place once a week. Hmmm…. maybe I’ll start saving up for a cleaning lady.

    For now, the dust rabbits are gone and the cat no longer has to cautiously round corners fearing an attack by one of them. I’ve got two months before I leave town again. That’s about the time it takes for them to become full-grown.

    Inspiring Message of the Day: If you leave the vacuuming of the house long enough it will actually feel like a victory when you do it.

    What Goes Up…

    • December 12, 2009 8:56 am

    Dearest Readers,

    I posted a new video to YouTube this morning. Here is the story for you:

    Once upon a time there was a little girl with a fiery temper and a wondering spirit.

    In springtime, in the year she would turn 8 years old, she moved with her family from a small town in the far north to a big city in the southeast.

    From one day to the next, the little girl’s world became very big. And the relative safety she had known and only known was now replaced by the possibility of danger.

    The danger of strangers.

    Bad men, lost men, who snatch little girls and hurt them, rip their innocence away, use and abuse them. This was the danger of a grown-up world, a world of fear and of hatred, of judgment and of pain. The little girl came to know this world, this danger, first hand. And it changed her.

    So the little girl grew up (because she had to) and lived in the world with a wounded heart.

    Harder and harder she developed her shell and scared and more scared she became her heart getting smaller and smaller but you could not see it shrinking oh no for she had become an actress extraordinaire.

    An actress in the drama of her own life.

    And the drama was dark as dark can be. For she began to seek refuge in the Destroyer, the destructive abyss, the kiss of death.

    The kiss of the highest of highs brought on by the lowest of lows. The kiss of bad men, lost men, to whom she’d now willingly give her heart, using and abusing, confusing pleasure and pain.

    But the little girl kept growing (because she had to) and miraculously her wondering spirit grew, too.

    It grew stronger and stronger, weakening her shell, cracking it open, easing her wound, healing it, and carrying her because she could not carry herself alone.

    And as her spirit lifted and soared she became a traveler, roaming the earth far and wide, encountering people and stories and writing stories of her own.

    On one particular journey she found herself in a little village by the Sea.

    She decided to go for a walk and because her spirits now had high high hopes, she liked to climb high high up on her walks.

    So she chose the most difficult route. And she climbed and she scrambled up the hardest, most challenging path and just by the skin of her teeth made it to the top.

    But now she had to get back down.

    “Surely there had to be an easier way back down,” thought the little girl (who was now a woman). But she could not find one and so she continued on, trusting that eventually she would discover a simpler way back down to the road.

    Soon she came upon a fence.

    “A-ha”, she said. “If someone built a fence all the way up here, they had to have begun to build the fence all the way down there.”

    And so she followed the fence down the hill.

    This proved to be an excellent idea until she hit the patch of gorse. Gorse is a yellow-flowered shrub that grows in dense patches as tall as the tallest man and as thick as a bear’s coat. Gorse leaves form spines, needle-like spikes, sharp and menacing.

    “I must get down to the flat,” said the little girl (who was now an anxious woman), and she began to make her way through the gorse patch, weaving and threading between the shrubs.

    Soon the gorse became so thick that she was forced to the ground, where the bush was thin enough to form a crawl space.

    She lay on her back, completely surrounded by spiked branches, the flowers creating a soft yellow glow around her.

    To continue on seemed impossible. Yet she had made so much progress, she had come so far down the hill, that to go back up seemed like defeat.

    “Perhaps defeat is not so bad,” she thought. “Perhaps defeat is better than being torn to shreds by the spikes.”

    So she crawled back up. Through and through the gorse patch until she was out, back where she’d started, back at the top of the hill.

    She walked on. Soon she saw a grove of trees. “Trees are easier than gorse,” she thought, and entered the thicket.

    There before her was a path. A wide-open tunnel of trees shadowy green switching back and forth all the way down to the road.

    The little girl (who was now a very grateful woman) knew from her life experience that sometimes we have to go all the way down to the bottom to find our way back to the top.

    But what she had not known and what she learned on that day is that sometimes we have to go all the way back up to the top to get down to the bottom.

    Inspiring Message of the Day: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p06YDmi1jwc

    Power Up

    • December 11, 2009 10:16 am

    Dearest Readers,

    Yesterday the power went off. The computer screen flickered for a moment and I thought it might just be a “brown out” but it continued to stutter and finally went black. The lights went out, the fridge stopped humming, all was quiet.

    Whenever the power goes out I am reminded how much we rely on electricity to function in our daily lives. Can’t send an email, can’t write a document, can’t call anyone, can’t make a hot meal, no hot water. When the power goes off we are forced to re-think our next steps. How can I do what needs to be done unplugged?

    In 1997, I was living in Montreal. That was the winter of the famous Ice Storm. It was everything you heard it was and more. The city was under siege by ice.

    I saw telephone poles bent in half from the weight of the ice, bowing and broken trees, cars stopped in the middle of the road, abandoned by their owners, unable to drive any further. The city was in darkness. It felt like the apocalypse.

    Except, in our little apartment, we had power. For some reason the block on which I lived did not succumb to the blackout. We were one of the few lucky spots in the city that had heat, light and all the comforts of home.

    We felt guilty (and grateful) for our good fortune so we decided we ought to be living in the dark, too. We conserved heat and kept the lights off most of the time. We called the emergency hotline and offered our place as a refuge but were told most people were already looked after.

    When the power went off yesterday I wondered how long. Would it come back in less than an hour? It usually does. What if it didn’t? Could this be something bigger? Would it be days? It’s cold outside. How would we keep warm?

    Unable to do anything much, I went to lie down and have a rest. The power came on half an hour later and I got up, relieved, and resumed my work.

    But something had changed. I was newly aware of my good fortune. There’s nothing like a power outage to build gratitude. I have so much. It’s so easy to take it for granted! Flip the switch and it’s on and Bob’s your uncle.

    People in Montreal and the surrounding communities survived that Ice Storm. Resiliency, generosity, charity, and community prevailed. There were people without power for weeks and weeks but time passed and they got it back and everyone made it work. It was not the end of the world.

    The moment of panic I felt with yesterday’s blackout was followed by some pretty serious self-talk generated by that kind of big-picture thinking. “In the moment I am always okay. This too shall pass. All will be well.”

    Looking at the big picture is not simply seeing the bright side of things, although that helps. It is a way to remind ourselves that nothing is the end of the world.

    Inspiring Message of the Day: Electricity is a power that makes things easier but it is not the Ultimate Power. If I trust the Ultimate Power in times of crisis then my fear has no sway.

    Cope or Hope

    • December 10, 2009 9:54 am

    Dearest Readers,

    I’ve written before that December seems like the quickest month in the calendar. It’s already the 10th and wasn’t it just the 1st?

    Yesterday I was with a group of people and someone brought up coping during the holiday season. One person did not quite hear what was said and asked, “Hoping? Did you say “hoping” during the holiday season?” “Coping!” the other shouted back.

    It was an interesting mistake to make. Coping vs. hoping during the holiday season. Which one are you?

    Being self-employed and far away from my family and choosing to stay home this year has put me in a kind of detached state around this season of cheer/jeer. If there weren’t decorations in the stores and if people didn’t keep bringing it up I probably wouldn’t even know it was Christmas. I’d just be doing my work and then, “Oh, it’s the 25th?”, make my dinner and go to bed with the cat.

    Admittedly, I have had a few moments of feeling that excitement that can come with the advent of the season and I am making some celebratory plans so I guess I am more in the hoping camp.

    Mostly what I am doing, to the best of my ability, is giving where I am able. Whether it is time, food, money, what have you, being of service is not only a good way to get out of myself and build my self-esteem, it’s the time of year when it seems to be the most needed.

    I know how difficult it can be to give when we’re in that coping place. Giving when I’m feeling hope is easy but how can I give anything when just I don’t have anything to give? Sometimes we need to be receivers. Sometimes we need to let people give to us.

    That said, I know that when I need to feel better there is almost no better way than to give of myself in some capacity. Giving is one of the quickest ways to get out of that fearful place. Somehow giving opens the heart and frees us from whatever it is that is binding us to fear.

    Finding the balance between giving and receiving is challenging and I don’t do it perfectly. I really need to check in with myself often. If I give here, am I going to send myself over the edge? Do I need to say no? Will saying yes make me feel better despite my reservations? Is saying yes just what I need right now?

    These questions are paramount to self-care. We can’t give what we don’t have but when we give we receive. Making sure I am clear on what my own needs are first will help me to serve the needs of others most effectively.

    Inspiring Message of the Day: I will use this holiday season to practice giving in ways that both attend to my own needs and allow me to be of service where it is truly needed.

    Imagine

    • December 9, 2009 6:48 am

    Dearest Readers,

    Yesterday, December the 8th, is a day I always remember for two reasons: It is both the day my father was born and the day that John Lennon was shot and killed.

    It’s been 29 years since Mark Chapman put four bullets in Lennon’s back. Almost three decades. My father, incidentally, just turned 67.

    Like those in the generation before me who remember where they were when JFK was assassinated I remember where I was when John Lennon died. I was only nine years old but I knew who he was and I knew who the Beatles were. My parents had Beatles’ records and I liked their songs, particularly Penny Lane and When I’m Sixty-Four.

    It was a school day and the story was spreading around the schoolyard. I’m sure none of us really knew or understood the implications of what had just happened but we knew it was big. It was only later, as a young adult, that I was able to feel the real sadness of it and grieve the loss of such a great artist and activist.

    John Lennon was not a perfect man. His defects of character and his shortcomings as a father, his drug use, his egotism have all been well-documented. But he was a man who spoke for Peace and Love. In my mind, this makes him a kind of saint.

    His message is still being sounded nearly thirty years on. His song Imagine, ranked “the third greatest song of all time” by Rolling Stone Magazine, is a most inspiring call to action.

    Imagine all the people
    Living for today

    Imagine all the people
    Living life in peace

    Imagine all the people
    Sharing all the world

    John Lennon was a dreamer. The world living “as one” is still a dream. It’s not the reality we live in. But could it be? Is it possible? If not, why not? What stops us from letting go of our differences, from accepting each other exactly as we are?

    Fear. Plain and simple. It’s fear.

    I can’t make World Peace happen by myself but I can practice peace in my own life. I can let go of judgmental thinking, I can accept other people’s beliefs that aren’t the same as mine, I can be compassionate and kind, understanding and generous.

    This call to action is a high one. We are caught up in our own lives. Change is difficult. But imagine every single one of us making peace a priority in our own lives. Wouldn’t that change the world?

    Inspiring Message of the Day: You can kill the messenger but the message doesn’t die. I will work for peace in my own life knowing that it will transform me and could so transform the world.

    The Tufa is Now

    • December 8, 2009 8:24 am

    Dearest Readers,

    For the last six summers my father has come up to the Yukon to visit me and together with an old friend of his (and one of his own prodigy) we have paddled one of the many splendid rivers in this Territory.

    One year, we paddled the Coal, a challenging river in a secluded part of the Yukon wild; gorgeous mountains, rocky canyons, lush green.

    On one stretch of the Coal you will find yourself in the Coal River Springs Territorial Park. If you then bushwhack into the wall of trees beyond a certain stretch of the riverbank you will discover the tufa, a natural phenomena of terraced limestone created by cool springs.

    Now, as I mentioned, this is a remote wilderness area. There are no park wardens or guides. No signs. Finding the tufa is about guessing. My dad’s friend had a vague idea of where they were, having been to see them years before, but other than his distant memory we were totally winging it.

    In order to get to the section of bush where the tufa might be, we had to line the boats upstream. This involved walking along a rocky shore and hauling the boats against the current. My father and I had inappropriate footwear. We were not having fun.

    Next, we had to scour through mosquito-thick bush and swampy underfoot. Could they be over there? No. How about here? Uh-uh. You get the idea. No map, no directions, no fun.

    I was, by this point, extremely irritable. “This f&%#ing tufa better be worth it,” I said to myself.

    But what if it wasn’t? What if this whole deal was going to be nothing but a big ol’ disappointment? What if the tufa sucked?

    In that moment I knew I had to change my tune. Because if the tufa weren’t worth it I was going to be really peed off. It would all have been for naught and I would be in a bad mood for the next five days.

    I realized then that I was actually living out that old cliché that says, “It’s the journey not the destination.” It wasn’t about getting to the tufa at all. It was about being where I was while getting to the tufa.

    After collectively almost giving up more than a few times we heard a shout from deep within the forest. Someone had found the springs.

    We explored the area, fragile and beautiful, like a forgotten paradise. We filled our containers and drank the mineral-rich water running down from the hills. We marveled at the clear pools of turquoise and the shelves of coral-like limestone.

    The tufa were worth it.

    But if they hadn’t been worth it? It would not have mattered. Because I shifted my thinking and made the journey the destination.

    Whenever I find myself trying to get somewhere, to the end of something, be it a job or a place or a time, I remember the tufa.

    And I remind myself: “The tufa is now.”

    Inspiring Message of the Day: Can I be in my life today? Am I able to let go of what is to come and be here now? I will practice staying in today by remembering that my life is only ever happening right now.