A Visit From My Christmas Spirit

  

At such a joyous time of year,

My Christmas spirit's in low gear -

I'm putting too much octane

In my tank of busyness;

Instead of looking 'round to see

The beauty that's surrounding me,

My eyes keep looking inward

Focusing on my own mess.

The Spirit, longing to impart

Its gift of hope to lift my heart,

I seem to have wrapped up and left

beneath the Christmas tree;

This precious gift that can't be bought

Should not be left to afterthought,

But opened first and shared a lot

With friends and family. 

As I pay it more attention,

Pause, and take time for reflection,

It is growing, speeding up,

Approaching second gear;

I'm heeding now its hopeful voice,

Speaking of a wiser choice:

To take each moment that I'm given

And spend it well this year.

          "If I could make you smile,

            For just a little while,

            It would give me such a lift

            To help you find

            Your forward shift

            That would be the perfect gift,

            One that we could open together,

            No ribbon to untie."

The Battle Cry

The Battle Cry

Remembrance Day is happening this weekend, and there are solemn services and acts taking place throughout this week.  Each year, while I stand at the cenotaph, I think of the mindset of those veterans who saw so many horrors, horrors that are still happening in many countries around the world; and I offer sincere prayers of thanks for the freedoms we have inherited, thanks to their sacrifice.  I tried to imagine what might have gone through their young minds and hearts as they heard the battle cry, and I wrote this cautionary poem for them,  a reminder that calls to action are happening daily for each of us.  Let us honour their memory and their sacrifice by stepping forward to help, lest we forget, and answer, "Not today". 

               Not Today

Two soldiers heard the battle cry,

Their blood grew cold within;

One thought of home, of loved ones dear;

The other, love that had not been,

Of chances that had passed him by

While he said, "Not today."

He thought of works he meant to do,

Of things he meant to say,

To his parents and his relatives

 To friends, moved far away,

And he regretted now his words,

"I'll work on that, but not today."

Each hour, the battle cries are heard

By soldiers, just like you and I,

When those in need call out our name,

Do we march forth, or not reply;

If we forget, we may regret

The race we have not won,

The love we've left un-nurtured,

The good we've left undone,

The choice is ours to make each day,

When cries fall on our ears,

When those in need, the marginalized,

Voice their hopes and fears;

As we listen, young and old,

Let's not let our hearts grow cold,

Don't tell them, "Not today".

A bag of Le Geyt Premium Bird Seed  -

 A banquet in my hand; Formulated by Elizabeth Le Geyt in 2012 in celebration of her 40 years of writing her bird column in the Ottawa Citizen, It was a fitting take-away gift handed out at her memorial service last week.  Elizabeth was an amazing lady, who embodied passion and wisdom in an active love for the environment.  Over her generous lifetime of 103 years, she shared these seeds eagerly, with her children and grandchildren, her  readers and fellow bird enthusiasts, and with her neighbours;

I knew Elizabeth originally as our next-door neighbour and friend on Martin Lane.  I loved her voice, her musical British accent - it brought every conversation to a more intense level of attention.  In those early years, I also learned to admire her in other ways; I recognized that her sophisticated British accent encased a brave and generous individual, a mother like my own,  and that her heart was subject to the same emotional ups and downs, as she raised her family of five boys.

Her love of nature in all its forms (except perhaps for bird-chasing cats!) was infectious, and we learned so much just being around her on walks down Kelly lane or playing about in their yard.  She was also an avid reader, encouraging us children to read as well - She generously shared her library of children's adventure books  with our family of seven children, who didn't have money for books in those days. 

Fast forward to 2014, and she and her son Michael co-authored a book themselves , "Bird Lady -  a lifelong love affair with birds".  The book title says it all - her life really was an inspiring love story, an adventure - one that she is, I'm sure, continuing to experience.   

A planter passed this way one day,

And scattered seeds about,

The birds flew in with shouts of glee,

To check the banquet out.

Some they ate, and some they dropped,

Upon the welcoming earth;

Plants grew up, their seeds  formed well,

Eager for rebirth.

Those tiny birds can tell us much;

To share,  for who knows when,

The planter will return,

To gather seeds to spread again.

A Pause In Nature

I love the Fall season, when Mother Nature takes a deep breath, a pause, and calls, "Break Time!"  Then she gathers up all of the stresses of the rest of the year and lets them all go in one glorious coloured exhalation.  

 Those stresses may have been in the form of uplifting growth experiences, or the weighty regrets of our individual unique gifts that have been left un-added to life's beauty;  Add in the fears created by world events and it's no wonder that our posture becomes less than erect and our gait slower .  Then along comes Nature with her reminder to be patient with ourselves,  that the year is maturing, and so are we, as day by day we release our own amazing colours into the world, both in our speech and in our actions.

  In this season of thanksgiving, as  Autumn colours swirl around us, Let's take her lead, and exhale - just let it all go;  A humble, quiet walk can be just what the doctor ordered:

A Humble Walk, A Silent Talk

I contemplated God's beauty

As I walked in the woods;

I breathed in His peace,

And it did my heart good.

In this green sanctuary,

In soft, quiet mood,

I lowered my head,

And it did my heart good.

How many have passed here,

And paused where I stood?

I greeted their presence,

And it did my heart good.

My spirit watched humbly

As leaves gently fell,

And covered my footsteps

'Till no one could tell

That one Fall afternoon

I had come to these woods,

I had partaken peace;

It had done my heart good.

Gentleness - Don't You Just Love It!

Gentleness - Don't you just love it?

Children are the most honest critics, aren't they?  They are able to sense the true character of those they interact with; They are attracted to playfulness and gentleness, especially when they find those qualities in surprising people or creatures, like a great big friendly giant or a fierce monster who just needs someone to pull a thorn out of its paw!

Throughout my life, I have been blessed to have so many family members, teachers  and friends who exemplify those positive qualities, despite the thorns that have caused them pain.

 Their presence  surrounds others with comfort and encouragement as we all struggle to share our gifts with the world.  They are the ones that we miss the most when they are no longer with us, those  faces graced by warm gentle smiles and mischievous twinkling eyes.

 Fear and disappointment will always be there, knocking  at our door, wanting to take over our agendas and drown our inspirations, placing the blame squarely on others.   It is up to us to choose how we answer those knocks; whether we open up to let  intolerance in with its negative view of others and of ourselves, or do we take a breath and wait  a few extra minutes for the chime of  gentleness to ring.  

  I hope that gentleness and good humour will win out in the battle for my attitude and that I will be courageous enough to pull out as many thorns as I can.   Tweezers up!

Apologies to Dylan Thomas:

Let me go gently

As I walk through this life,

Adding no harshness,

Bringing no strife;

When fear walks in boldly,

Disguised as my friend,

Carrying  anger

As it tries to pretend

That it came to protect me,

That I need to strike out,

Then, let me strike fear instead,

Turn it about,

And catch it off guard

With a warm, gentle smile,

Replacing its gloom

With the hope of a child.

No Ordinary Thing!

No Ordinary Thing!

No matter how many times I watch a child jumping in a puddle, skipping rope, playing hide -and-seek, or swinging, I am amazed at how beautiful these ordinary actions are, and how powerful their ripple effects can be;  I automatically stop and smile when I witness their play; a positive ripple, created out of thin air, with the power to change my mood.

  Children love to give gifts - pictures they have drawn, an original dance routine, notes and stories that they have written and ones that their voices create, in the form of songs or jokes.  They have an inner desire to share their gifts.  Over time, that desire becomes either stronger or weaker depending on their sense of freedom to share.  They notice our actions as much as our words, so Let us set an example for them; grab hold of our own inner child and jump into life's puddle with enthusiasm and courage as we share our own gifts:

It was something ordinary,

But a treasure that I'll save;

It clothed the extraordinary,

Music turned into a story;

A child's sweet gift she gave;

She sang a song about a dream;

No sooner did she start,

Than the simple little melody,

Very unexpectedly,

Reached right into my heart;

I was, once again, that little child,

Swinging in a  tree,

Seeing colours in its bark,

Then, piling leaves up in the park,   

And it delighted me!

She looked at me with hopeful eyes

As she laughed the final note;

No other would be quite like this,

Signed and given with a kiss;

A lump formed in my throat;

It was something unexpected,

On an ordinary day,

But, to touch a heart  and make it sing

Is no simple ordinary thing -

It's a miracle at play!

Who Am I – In Twenty Minutes?!

I’d love to introduce myself, but I don’t know who I am – yet!   It’s life’s great mystery, isn’t it?    Every moment that I’m alive changes me – so, I guess I’m a work in progress.  If you ask me who I am twenty minutes from now, I will have grown and fulfilled twenty more minutes of my life by finishing this ‘rant’, and it will have changed my mind set – I will not be the same person.  I will be twenty minutes older; the world will be twenty minutes older, and whatever I have invested in that time will remain with this world. 

With every breath we take, we have the potential for meaningful thought – that is a wonderful gift; our symphony, to direct in whatever way we choose.  Sometimes a beautiful piece of music takes me on a trip to inspiration land, and voila! – my thoughts have been lifted to new levels.

 Every one of us is our own student, teacher, our own scholar; Our subject matter can be as simple as noticing, observing, and learning from the actions of a house fly or a spider, a petal opening on a blossom; or as complex as picking up a book of philosophy and letting our minds absorb whatever rings true to us in that media.  Graduation day is actually broken down into graduation minutes. None of us knows how many ‘twenty minutes’ we will have left to grow and change and become; I’d like to introduce myself – just wait twenty minutes!

I'm a wondrous work in progress,

A conundrum to be sure;

When I wake up every morning,

When my thoughts are still a blur,

Before I even raise my head,

And start to take thoughts in,

Life turns a brand new page for me,

A chance to write a melody,

Then offers me the pen;

The words I write

Might help or heal,

Might change a life,

But then,

I'm still a work in progress,

I won't know till I begin.

I smiled at someone today - I smiled that smile forever.

We are never really ready to say goodbye to our loved ones -

 How do we cope with the shock that sets in when someone we care deeply about dies too early or unexpectedly?

  We go to our cupboard and pull out the warmest coat that we can find; sewn with love by a wonderful supporting group of family and friends.  That garment may be frayed at the neck and arms from being worn so often, and it may be missing a few strands of our favourite colours; but the Creator looks on it and repairs it each time a thread breaks.

  His repair kit includes our  every smile and kind gesture.   If you want to know what eternity is, look no further than your smile; The kindness in your eyes and the breadth of your smile is the most precious gift we can offer; Once it is given, it doesn't just go away, it is an irreplaceable stitch that is woven into the fabric of that coat - for eternity.

 Those who go to the cupboard can be sure of finding it there - waiting to do what only a familiar, favourite coat can do - warm our souls, wrap us in its arms tightly, and remind us that our loved one's smiles and kindnesses are part of its fabric forever.

When my heart is numb,

My mind a blur,

And I've pushed away the memories  there,

I reach into my trembling heart,

And feel a warmth come over me,

For I find that smile still shining clear.

Within that smile,

 I see those eyes,

And I hear a voice that calls to me,

"All the love I've given you

Is yours for all eternity."

Life's Relay Race

I have attended two funerals this week, each for a beautiful lady who I'm sure wondered to the end if she had run her race well; whether the love pressed into the  baton that she carried would find the hands of her loved ones, and be passed on to the next runner, and the next.  As I stared into the candle that I held at this morning's service, my thoughts were suddenly hijacked by my sixteen year old self:

As a grade eleven student, very small in stature, and clutching a miniscule piece of self-confidence, I somehow found myself in the school's track and field relay race. As I stood there, waiting for the baton to be slipped into my hand, my mind suddenly went completely blank; all of my focus was in the present - preparing to run with all that was in me.  As I tore down the track, I looked up to see my mother's face watching from the sidelines, pride and worry battling for first place in her emotions.  I don't remember finishing the race, or anything of the outcome - I just remember someone saying, "Did you see what you did?"  To this day, I don't know whether I did well, or if I totally blew it, and rather than destroying the fragile hope that I held onto,  I have avoided finding out.

We all have traumatic events in our past that have had dramatic ripple effects on our lives and our accomplishments; We too are left questioning how we have lived our lives, where we could have done better.  Rather than running our race reliving or regretting the past, let's seize the present moment, grab that baton of hope, and give life's relay race all we've got.  I know that's the advice that these two ladies would want to pass on.

Canada Day - 150 Reasons to Dream!

A man is only as rich as his dreams,

Only as happy as those dreams fulfilled,

In the giving of self

To a world that is waiting;

Its children, its helpless, its aged and hurting,

For the hope that only his dreams can build.

A country is only as rich as its dreams,

Only as wealthy

As the hope that it feeds

To its children, its homeless, its helpless,

Its peoples;

Dear Canada, thank you for planting these seeds.

That this world  will be made up of countries with dreams,

Fed richly with freedom till each dream comes true,

For our children, our aged, our homeless, our helpless,

A world filled with hope,

That is my dream for you.

Who Is My Father?

We expect our dads to be towers of strength, guides and mentors,  but what we really want most from them is a huge heart-felt Dad-hug on a regular basis - for them to tell us they love us.   We need them to accept and love us when we succeed and also when we fail.  We want them to join us in our laughter and play, and to put an arm around us  when we cry bitter tears,  understanding that they are both a part of who we are, necessary for our growth.   On the flip-side, our fathers need those same gifts given back to them as they struggle and succeed, or falter, in their attempts to raise their family.

Who Is My Father?

A hand strong and calloused,

That held onto mine,

A face, rough and wrinkled

With love in each line;

Eyes glinting laughter -

The laugh of a boy,

Who still could find wonder

In small bits of joy.

This life's complicated,

And at times, it's unfair,

And he shed humble tears

When he tripped on despair;

But what joy he created

When he strummed out a song!

He sang out his problems,

And coaxed us along.

With a mind that loved learning,

He  tried hard to guide,

As he  watched my young footsteps

And Followed  with pride.

A heart seeking God,

He laid his soul bare

As he prayed for his family -

A father's tough prayer.

Who is my father?

He's all of these things,

Kept close in my memory;

He still makes my heart sing!

As Green As It Gets!

"That's as green as it's going to get!"   An exasperated cry from our Grandson made us laugh at the time - a good wake-me-up that jolted us out of the serious impatience that we felt one day while sitting behind a slow mover at the starting line of a downtown traffic light.  Why do we insist on treating life as a race, having to get to our goals at the expense of the beauty that passes us by along the way?

  'The goal is the journey'  is an expression that one of our dear friends  used to use at the conclusion of her e-mails;  It always made me stop and re-think the goals that I had planned for that particular day - to give my to-do list a thorough review, to make sure that I was going to be living the day rather than just getting through it.   That difference meant that I made sure to leave some precious time for a creative process of some sort - something that would add a smile, a drop of encouragement, some beauty to the world.  I didn't forget the value of a love-filled baking session as one of those processes either;  It seemed like the perfect work of art on days when sunshine and smiles were at a premium.

  Heading into another week sprinkled with lots of raindrops, and with the grass and garden waiting patiently,  I decided to entice some poetic sunshine to come forth - That's as green as it's going to get today!

After The Rain

After the rain,

There will be light,

And a breeze to lift

The robin's flight;

After the rain,

The sun will shout

 With welcome warmth,

"Come out!  Come out!"

"Shake out your smile,

Add yours to mine,

Let's have some fun -

It's gardening time!"

At My Mother's Knee

Some memories never fade away,

And that's as it should be,

When they take me back to happy times

And quiet moments  when I'd  find

Myself at Mother's knee.

Special secrets I would share,

Secret hurts and fears,

Nothing seemed too silly there,

With soothing words and hugs to spare,

She'd wipe away my tears.

I'd place my head upon her lap

And feel her hands' caressing,

What peace I felt as I knelt there ,

 Her fingers in my tousled hair,

Receiving mother's blessing.

She'd wrap me in her mother's care,

My smile was her reward;

No one could resist her grin

And soon the giggles would begin,

Good humour was restored.

Those special moments live in me

In love they have been set,

All those lovely memories

Bring me often to my knees

I feel her softness yet.

I close my eyes and hear her voice,

So musical and mild;

No greater gift could ever be,

Than hearing my mom pray for me,

Now I pray for you, my child.

Spreading Laughter!

World  laughter day is coming up soon - this Sunday  May 7th, and boy, couldn't we all use some laughter!

 The first celebration was on January 10, 1998, in Mumbai, India, and was arranged by Dr. Madan Kataria, founder of the worldwide laughter yoga movement.   

Laughter Yoga says: Laughter is a positive and powerful emotion that has all the ingredients required for individuals to change themselves and to change the world in a peaceful and positive way.  The day is now celebrated worldwide.

When life becomes just too heavy for us to bear, it's time to bring in the carrier cousins  to help lift our load:

Singing is a first cousin to laughter.  To prove that point, here's a little ditty that the Thousand Islanders Chorus  shared with our Walker House singing workshop group;  Apart from being a good singing exercise,  it acts as a laughter booster:

            'laughter is contagious

            and it's advantageous,

            Ho! ho! ho! ho!

            Ho! ho! ho! ho!

            Ho! ho! ho! ho!

            Ho! ho! ho! ho!

            Ho!

After a repetition or two, I could never get to the last 'ho!'  without laughing - totally infected, I was!

I have long known that music and singing  are carriers - They can spread laughter, joy, inspiration, and  tears; They are right up there with all of the most powerful and positive infections - their germs spread rapidly, even to our feet, causing them to dance - hopefully at appropriate moments.  Wherever their infection  spreads, life takes on brighter colours - how good is that!

Whether those two cousins nudge us to tears or laughter, our bodies and spirits reap positive benefits. 

You go carriers - Please do make me laugh!

The colour of sunshine!

 This was the title of one of the pieces of music that I was listening to as I did my Tai Chi routine this morning.  I find the slow meditative pace of this exercise to be a time of deep and creative thought, and of heartfelt prayer.

Though I can't see the colour of sunshine, or the substance of prayer, I know that both are powerful communicators, and can lift our hearts and spirits.  As the sun draws warm colours from everything it touches, and gives back life-giving food to mankind and the earth, I believe that prayer, though invisible to the human eye, is viewed as a beautiful, powerful rainbow of hope by the soul which, as it is lifted, shares its own amazing colours, adding to the brightness and warmth in the world.

The colour of sunshine

Depends on its diet,

If it drinks from the ocean,

Or a lake laying quiet,

Then it puts on bright blue,

With a sparkle of green,

And its hair sometimes gleams

With a hint of marine.

While crossing a meadow,

It bounces off flowers,

It feeds on red clover,

And sends back rose showers;

It picks up blue tips

From the bluegrass, I'm told,

And to compliment dandelions

Dons its bright gold.

The colour of prayer

Depends on its diet,

If it drinks caring thoughts

From a soul that is quiet,

Then it puts on bright blue

As it soars high above,

And returns, dressed in gold,

As it echoes God's love.

Nice Ta Meetcha!   - The Power Of A Biscuit!

That's it!  I've Had it!   Time to bake biscuits!

Enough of all of these doom and gloom forecasts, whether political or weather-related;  It's time to bake  some love into some biscuits. Whatever form your biscuits take, whatever your 'knead' may be - let's sit down with a nice cup of tea and take a healing time-out  - calories be darned!

Each time that I recreate my mother-in-law, Joan's wonderful shortbread biscuit recipe, I find myself adding something extra to the mix that might make it even more delicious.  So far the ingredients are coming from Toronto, B.C., Ontario, Quebec, Indonesia, and the U.S.   How exotic is that! 

As I lovingly work the ingredients into small crumbs, on their way to the final mix, I am aware of the dependence of each of them on the others in order to form. These ingredients had never met before today - stayed in their separate cupboards, but once introduced and the more I let them combine and work together, the finer they have become.  My trained ear is hearing them as they compliment each other at great length, with 'Nice ta meetchas' happening all around!

I have now come full circle, contemplating world issues again, but through the lens of a biscuit baker.  We are all part of this wonderful recipe called mankind, and whether we admit it or not, we are all dependent on each other in order to get from crumb to delicious biscuit, to reach our full potential;

 We each have something to offer that no one else can give, but we can't find out what that something is until we start coming out of our cupboards and offering our 'nice ta meetcha's.

 Ah, the zen of the biscuit - may its force be with you!

The Chain

The Chain

I believe that we are being born anew every day - given another chance.

Who we are,  our essence or spirit, is in the process of becoming with each breath that we take;

our spirit does not require a diet of huge achievements - it is constantly feeding off of our attitude,  It grows more beautiful with every positive thought and accomplishment, every smiling link that we add to the whole.   With each act of kindness, we are strengthening our link in the chain of life, and feeding it the energy that it needs, to be strong for all of the other links - our parents, children, grandchildren, brothers and sisters, friends - all those that we hold in our hearts and who count on us.

 When the seas get rough, we can secure our vessels with that wonderful supporting chain:

Hold onto the chain,

In the midst of your pain,

Trust in the strength of each link;

Though doubts may obscure it,

Have faith and be sure, it's

Stronger by far than you think.

With great love they speak,

Each voice so unique,

Timeless, they're born yet again,

These links built of love,

Drawing strength from above,

Hand in hand forming the chain.

The Colour Of Sunshine

The colour of sunshine!

 This was the title of one of the pieces of music that I was listening to as I did my Tai Chi routine this morning.  I find the slow meditative pace of this exercise to be a time of deep and creative thought, and of heartfelt prayer.

Though I can't see the colour of sunshine, or the substance of prayer, I know that both have the power to lift my heart and spirit.  As the sun draws warm colours from everything it touches, and gives back life-giving food to mankind and the earth, I believe that prayer, though invisible to the human eye, is viewed as a beautiful, powerful rainbow of hope by the soul which, as it is lifted, shares its own amazing colours, adding to the brightness and warmth in the world.

The colour of sunshine

Depends on its diet;

If it drinks from the ocean,

Or a lake laying quiet,

Then it puts on bright blue,

With a sparkle of green,

And its hair sometimes gleams

With a hint of marine.

While crossing a meadow,

It bounces off flowers,

It feeds on red clover,

And sends back rose showers;

It picks up blue tips

From the bluegrass, I'm told,

And to compliment dandelions

Dons its bright gold.

The colour of prayer

Depends on its diet;

If it drinks caring thoughts

From a soul that is quiet,

Then it puts on bright blue

As it soars high above,

And returns, dressed in gold,

As it echoes God's love.

Much Ado About My To Do List

Much Ado About My To Do List

It seems the 'Bard' and Dickens were up to no good last night - they put their heads together and decided that 3 am was the perfect time for a creative session.  No need to inform Edie about the time change, "she loves laying awake at that hour anyway, and it will give her a different program to tune into other than Worriers Anonymous!" -  annoying pair, but they were right:

These two spirits took me on a journey back in time, somewhat like Scrooge's Christmas Eve experience, to a small house on the banks of the Rideau River.  The program that I tuned into was a series of vignettes that featured a poor family of 7 children and two young parents and the intangibles that fed the imagination and ignited the wonder in this little child's heart:   the smell of my mother's delicious 'meals for the masses', her tears as we tickled her into laughter, or as she hugged our hurts away; the dancing eyes of my father as he shared one of his jokes, and quipped Jimmy Durante's "I've got a million of 'em!"  There, vying for room on the well-worn couch, sat an eager group of children passing from lap to lap, members of the newest litter of kittens and afterwards, not so eagerly, passing the buck about who's turn it was to change the newspaper in their box!  Another scene unfolded of the family gathered in the living room, sharing in total silliness; in jokes and games and in the exuberant singing of familiar songs with Dad on guitar and mouth organ, the leader of our band.

  I was completely wrapped up in childhood when the Bard interrupted my reverie by proffering  this line from his 'Julius Caesar':  'The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones.'  Ok - that was negative, or maybe it was meant as an optimistic warning, a reminder to act now rather than judge now;  the power of the good memories we make each day, may be all that is needed to prevent one of our loved ones, or a stranger that our words or actions have touched, from going down those 'evil' paths.

So, as this New Year unfolds, my 'to do' list will be topped by:  'Judge less and make more good memories'.  May they live long after I'm gone and hopefully my loved ones will be able to repeat Dad's line, "I've got a million of 'em!"