My Friend And I

At Christmas time, it is good to remember that the most precious gifts are the ones that we share with family and dear friends - the gifts of priceless memories:

My Friend And I

We built a fort,

My friend and I,

With leaves and twigs,

Branches and moss;

The rain came down,

But not on us,

Save for a tiny drop or two

That found a hole in our friendly nest.

We shared a snack,

My friend and I,

Discovered apples,

Tart and sweet;

We ate them up,

Our banquet neat,

Save for a tiny bite or two,

And those we shared with a chipmunk guest!

We headed home,

My friend and I,

And gathered treasures

On our way,

The sun went down,

The sky went dark,

Save for a brilliant star or two,

That shone on two friends, richly blessed.

Now, thoughts of forts

Have come to rest,

And pleasant dreams

Are what is left;

The secret joys,

Of two small boys,

And, save for a memory lapse or two,

That world still fills my treasure chest!

Stepping Into Peace

It's December, and the Christmas rush is upon us; There are wonderful celebrations to plan and attend, a tree to put up and decorate, a house to clean and decorate, and cookies to bake and decorate!  Sometimes it is hard to find the peace that is supposed to be the main focus of the season.  When I find myself starting to go under in the waves of too much stress, I try to remember to take a step back and find the quiet.

To let go of stress and step into peace is like stepping into a sturdy canoe in the wee hours of the morning and letting yourself  follow the shoreline of a river; not in any rush to reach a destination, but just enjoying the quiet conversation of your surroundings, and being grateful to the river for allowing you to ride along in its sparkling currents.

For a brief time, you and your thoughts are taking an intimate journey together, leaving all of your baggage, including your shoes, behind on the shore.

Finding My Smile

The gentle movements of a Tai Chi session this morning had me

Watching the flow of my hands,

And once again, I felt there the wooden caress of a paddle;

I was stepping into my mental canoe,

Slipping away on daydreams

Of early morning escapes

Beside a gentle river bank,

Feeling the solitude as I float downstream across flat water,

Free of man-made sounds in their various forms;

I close my eyes,

Enjoying the rocking of the canoe,

trusting the gentle movement of the river

 to carry me along wherever it is going;

I feel again the water washing around my toes as I invite some of it aboard with every stroke of my paddle;

My memory took a deep breath and there it was: the wonderful atmosphere;

Smells of algae, fish, flowers,

And the sounds of nature; frogs, birds, and various forms of flying tag-a-longs who found it amusing to play tag on my hat and hide-and-seek around my ankles - taking the occasional nibble;

I grabbed hold of that spiritual oar of freedom,

Gave it a mental pull,

-  And I smiled.

My hands, now resting,

Palms up,  in peace.

Whether your 'peace escape' is in a mental canoe, a quiet chapel, or laying in the arms of a frosty but all-accepting snow angel, may you find your own way to step into peace, find your smile, and leave your heavy baggage behind on the shore.

Wishing you all peace this Christmas and far beyond.

Passing The Torch

This Remembrance Day is especially poignant, as it celebrates the 100th Anniversary of the 1st World War.  In reflecting on the sacrifices made for the freedoms that we enjoy, I am reminded that the hands of those brave men still reach out today, passing the torch to all of us, to hold  high and spread its light:

Passing The Torch

When day falls down

With setting sun,

Look back, look back,

What have we done?

The torch was passed

To you and I;

"Don't falter now!"

We hear their cry,

"Be not afraid,

Stand straight and tall,

And do not heed

The  tempter's  call

To turn your back,

To walk away,

Or put off for

Another day,

The work that waits,

That pulls your heart,

And hopes that you

Will do your part";

To each of us

A bit of light

Is  given as a seed,

It glows and grows

With every gift

We give to one in need;                 "

The torch is ours

To hold on high,

Let's  spread its light

Across the sky!

Inspiration, Respiration, Whatever - Just Breathe!

In today's world of increasing tensions, we have forgotten how to breathe - to breathe deeply of life's beauty, and to truly comprehend what that beauty means.   We are constantly shallow breathing, gulping at the problems and troubles that surround us, until our poor lungs give up waiting for the healthy air they need in order to open up, and we lose consciousness or awareness.

There is beauty to inhale everywhere we look, if we are focused on seeing it; those beautiful coloured leaves flying through the air, a little bird sitting on a branch singing with all its might;  I am looking down now at the crocheted throw on my lap - each stitch the work of our niece's loving hands;  I let myself breathe in the sound of her infectious laugh.  The act of sorting out the negatives to leave room for those pieces of positive is an essential breathing exercise.   I am even deep breathing the sight of that squirrel who is now running off with our last tomato!

Each season brings its own unique gifts, as do we all; Note to self:  breath in all of their beauty before they move on - at least that's the advice a little violet gave me:

Miss Violet's Wisdom

One bright Spring day,  while gardening,

Amidst my flowering throng,

Pulling weeds,

Planting seeds,

I sang a cheery song;

A bumble bee said, "Pardon Me,

You're picking from my row!   

Move on, move on,

Just get along,

And don't forget your hoe!"

A tiny violet touched my hand,

And said, "For goodness sake!

That bee was rude,

 Such attitude -

He always wants to take;

I love your song,

 I'll nod along;

Why not put down the rake?"

And since the sun was very hot,

I sat down for a break;

"Why all the fuss?", Miss Violet said,

"And why your worried brow?

Don't you see the beauty

That's all around you now?

And, don't you know how lovely

Are the smiles you strew about,

Those cheerful flowers from deep inside,

Are the prettiest, no doubt.

When you think your garden's messy,

That your efforts are in vain,

Remember why you planted it,

What you hoped to gain,

You're a part of life's great chorus,

So smile, and sing again!"

Michaelangelo and A Little Girl

Inspired by the image and sound bite of the Gatineau man hanging tightly to the hand of his daughter who was being swept up in last Friday's tornado - refusing to let go of her, I was reminded of Michelangelo's famous painting, The Creation of Adam.  It depicts the finger of God reaching to give life to Adam - Not quite touching - imparting the spark of life.  So many messages can and have been interpreted in this  powerful image;  I chose to see in it the creation of God's great love for man - His never letting go of us.   We have a Father who is constantly reaching out for us, and when we happen to lose our grip at times, He reaches even further and bridges the gap when we call out to Him.

We build our bridges,

Strong and wide

To take us to

The other side

Of the space between

The here and there,

An abyss unknown

And fraught with care;

Don't look down!  I cried;

Please don't let go,

I am so small,

So afraid that

I will fall;

I need some help

To cross this path

My faltering pace,

Guide with your grace,

The strongest bridge of all;

I'm reaching for

Your hand, Father,

As you reach out

For mine;

You calm the waters,

Cruel and wild,

You bridge the gap

And guide your child,

Across a bridge divine.

Nan Is Going Crazy!

I don't always have the answers to our grandchildren's  questions, or the energy to join in their requests of  'Let's play!', but the little child in me is still delighted when I am invited;  It's a beautiful thing to be included in their world, to be looked up to and believed in.   We could all benefit from putting their gift of total acceptance to work, believing in ourselves.   They will pick up on our positive attitude and build on that example of self-confidence, a valuable gift that keeps on giving.

Nan Is Going Crazy!

"Paint my fingers,

Paint my toes,

Wrap me up

In whacky clothes!"

I'm not sure,

You don't suppose

Nan might be going crazy?!

She's on the floor,

She's off the wall,

I hope she knows

That she could fall?

She doesn't act adult at all,

She's certainly not lazy!

Pop was laughing,

Now, he's not,

He's heading for

A safer spot,

Too much energy

She's got,

She's going oopsy-daisy!

He doesn't know

It's just in fun -

Pop is dialling

911!

Hold on  Pop,

Our Nan is back,

Safely on the adult track,

No danger of a heart attack -

Our playmate isn't crazy!

Someone once said, "It's the start that stops most of us."    That has certainly been the case for me lately; I find that my great intentions at the start of each day end up somewhere between full-stop and the back of the distraction line.   Focus Edie focus!  For all of you trying to share your own artistic or writing gifts with others, I encourage you to just start with one word, one line, one doodle at a time.   In my case, I worked out my frustrations by writing a literary doodle, a little poem that you can probably relate to:

A Literary Lull

Hello page -

It's me again,

I've had another coffee;

But all it did was make me shake,

No inspiration in its wake,

No powerful ripples for me;

So, I'm back

To think and sigh,

Heavy head and heavy heart,

Filled with words that won't leave home,

Hanging on, afraid to roam,

Lest faults they might impart;

For words have power

To hurt or heal,

And that is no small matter,

And so, in matters literary,

Some re-write is necessary,

But first -  I need to start!

Step 1 - Eat The Frog!

Step 1 - Eat the frog!

 I have a beautiful little Friendship Book, given to me when we first moved to Prescott by a lovely neighbour who took one of those meaningful first steps; Elizabeth and her husband, Michael came over to welcome us to the neighbourhood.  Little did she realize that reading one excerpt from that little book each day has become part of my morning ritual - It gives me a boost from sleep to smile.  I especially love its one reference to an old piece of folk wisdom that states, "If the first thing you do each day is eat a frog, then nothing worse will happen for the rest of the day."  How many of the things that we fear are as scary as that?

We will never know how far our unique ripples will flow until we take that first step into the stream each day, and carry our own personal frog to higher ground.

One Tiny Step

The first tiny step

Is the one that will lead,

That will start your whole process of growing;

It's the one to encourage,

As it breaks from its bonds

And carries us into unknowing;

Though the road be unclear,

The tools not too near,

They will come to your hand

By and by,

If you say to that step,

"I give you permission

To drive my life forward, to try";

For each tiny step

Has the power to move,

To make ripples of hope

In life's stream;

You may fall off the track,

But, at least looking back,

You'll be further ahead

Than you've been!

Lament For Friendship

Life is always both unpredictable and precious, and friendship is to be cherished.  It saddens me to see and hear the damage to the very special friendship that we have held with our neighbours to the South.  Let us pray that respect and healing will gain the upper hand.

Lament For Friendship

 What a sad thing,

When friends fall out,

And lose togetherness,

Becoming less;

When our common goals and aspirations

Become frayed - torn at the edges,

When talk is for show,

Fleeting bravado,

That weakens our bonds,

Leaves us struggling to cope,

Grasping at hope;

Why plant seeds of doubt,

What's this fear all about?

And what thanks do we send

To our struggling earth  mother,

As we feign to defend

Each from the other;

What do we gain

By inflicting pain;

In the glare of  'beware!',

How do we repair?

'Neath the weight of our words,

Our hearts long for peace,

For hurts to be healed,

For struggle to cease;

Then, let our falling out be ended,

And hands of friendship be extended;  

Around this world, our common home,

Let's build a wall of toleration,

Made up of every tribe and nation's

Hands joined together in respect and love;

That would be a wall

That we could all get behind.

For Dad - A Father's Lullaby

With Fathers' Day approaching, I tried to put myself into the mindset of  today's young men who are trying to be strong husbands and role models for their children in the midst of so much change in society.

  I was extremely lucky to be blessed with a father who gifted me with many tender memories.   Most of those memories are happy musical ones, but one is a very poignant one:  The occasion was the celebration of life for my brother-in-law, Gary; That was the day Dad's flood gates overflowed, overpowered by waters that were just too heavy.  As I watched him trying to hide his tears, I felt such immense love for him - I wanted to tell him that men are allowed to cry, that fathers are allowed to cry; Tears act as a release valve for all of us when the flood waters of stress threaten to overwhelm us.

 I hope dad knows how much influence his tears had on me, both the ones that came from heartache and those that rolled down his cheeks as he indulged in wonderful belly laughs.

I wish all of you fathers a Happy Fathers' Day - Kleenex is optional!

When night falls hard upon your dreams,

And wakes you from your sleep,

And you contemplate the echoes,

For the meaning that runs deep;

When your ship of hope has run aground,

On fears you can't get past;

When you cry aloud for rescue,

From troubles that hold fast,

Then lay your burden down awhile,

And fill your lungs with air,

And when you take it up again,

Know that He'll be there;

A loving guide to clear away

Each rock along your stumbling way,

Who understands the load you bear,

And listens to your father's prayer;

Father help us all to heal, to  look beyond our pain,

To let go of hurt, and prejudice and to let love start again;

let us speak tender words to each other,

 And let our song somehow

Soothe the hearts of those who are crying,

For the world needs a lullaby

 Right about now.

Happy Mothers' Day - Why Worry?

Mothers' Day is coming up on Sunday, and there are wonderful tributes flowing from all sorts of media - mothers are the inspiration behind some of the most beautiful songs and poems.

 I decided to address one of the down-to-earth feelings that we all share as members of this human race, and one that mothers are particularly susceptible to - worrying!  

Sometimes, when we can't seem to get a handle on our problems or get past the bad feelings that pull us down, it can be helpful to write it all out - perhaps in the form of a poem?   And, perhaps in the process, we can have a good hearty laugh at what's bothering us - after all, it can't write back, and I'm not letting it touch my keyboard!

Why Worry?

"Worry, my old friend,

Where've you been?

Where've you been?

It's been minutes since

I've seen your sorry face!

Worry, where'd you go?

For it seems

I've missed you so,

That I couldn't cope

With happy thoughts

That tried to take your place!"

So, worry came back, knocking

At my door,

At my door,

Just when I thought

I simply couldn't

Worry anymore,

"I can see that you've

Been working out,

How wonderful!

How wonderful!

I almost fell asleep

In pleasant dreams,

But, I was worried

That a whole night's sleep

Without you,

Yes, without you,

Would leave my life a bore,

Livened only by my snore!"

Homeless Minstrels

“I like to inspire people who are still struggling like I was,” said Arcand, seated at a piano in Ambrose Place, “from being on the street, sleeping outside, going to shelters. Because I love people. I play for people."

These are the words of an Edmonton homeless man, Ryan Arcand, whose spontaneous piano performance was posted on the internet where it went viral;  He died in March.   He had been living in a supportive housing complex for a few months while struggling with a developmental disability, trauma, and mental illness which threw him into the downward spiral of addictions.  Piano was his one positive coping tool, and he was happy that his talent got acknowledged - a rare thing for people who are marginalized.            exerpted from Global News report, March 7, 2018

Homelessness is about more than not having a roof over our heads; mental health issues leave many feeling truly lost and homeless.  It is difficult to know how to respond to these issues effectively; where and how to help.  As human beings, we all , from time to time, jump to quick conclusions about others; We can be very  quick to judge our fellow man without knowing all of the facts.  I wrote the following piece in hopes of bringing the issue into the limelight and possibly generating some positive action.   

Inspired by his selflessness and humble brilliance, I wrote this piece,

 for Ryan:

An enigma stood,

Guitar in hand,

A  homeless minstrel on the street;

With  music playing in his head,

Words and chords came pouring out;

They formed without his knowing

Where the song was going,

What his final note would be,

Who would meet his eyes and see

The dream that he was sowing;

At home within his song he dwelt,

And welcomed in whoever came;

His door was never locked or barred;

Though rains came down and times were hard;

Lost in his own reverie,

He played his spirituality,

Free from ego, free from shame;

We met his eyes and urged him on,

And, listening to his gift of song,

Marvelled at his spirit free,

Winced at his humility;

Touched by tinges of remorse,

That pulled our hearts with gentle force, 

We checked our judgement at his door,

And  gaily clapped along;

A song is given each of us,

Placed into our care;

We cannot fully comprehend

The power of each note that we send

Into a world that needs to see

That we are all one family,

That each voice adds its colour to

One symphony we share..

The Calm Before The Storm

'The calm before the storm' is a well-known idiom that carries some pretty depressing baggage with it.  It tends to serve up foreboding and a sense of doom.   It has many cousins that carry similar gloomy messages:  'Just wait, this beautiful weather can't last.',  'We're going to pay for all of this good weather.' 'Don't get used to it, it's only March.'   etc. etc.

Why can't we just embrace outpourings of happiness, love, good weather, whatever positives that  happen to come our way, and not feel guilty,  or be apprehensive that bad things will surely follow - and while we're at it, why not be the authors of some happiness?

A Calm In The Storm

There is a calm before each storm,

Or so we've come to think,

And isn't it an awful shame

We let our spirits sink;

Before our souls have time to rest,

To  bask awhile in gentleness,

Thoughts break in of what might come,

When soft turns harsh, when calm is done;

Why waste the balm of healing scents

And healing sounds, when worries stop;

Why let unquiet walk with us,

And wait for some great shoe to drop;

Let's wrap our arms around it tight,

Embrace the calm - soak in its light,

Bid our hearts to see the good,

And shout our thanks, for well we should;

Enjoy this day - this gift we've got,

For night may come, or it may not;

Let calm surround us every day,

And when despair gets in our way,

Then tiny acts of love perform,

And be the calm that quells the storm.

The Dream Train

'I was trying to daydream, but my mind kept wandering.'   - Steven Wright

A recent issue of 'Discovery' magazine had an interesting article in it about the overlooked importance of daydreaming - who knew?  Apparently, it is when our minds are given the freedom to explore and  travel to wherever the moment takes it, that revelations occur; when a completely unrelated dream can lead us to look at a problem in a whole new way.  For all of you fellow daydream travellers out there - all aboard!

            The Dream Train

There's a train that comes by often,

A muse who calls to me,

"Come hop aboard, forget your work,

Let's see what we can see!"

"No ticket will be needed,

No carry-on", says she;

”Only thoughts will be collected,

And dreams can travel free."

It picks  me up at random,

While my mind is caught off guard,

Floating on a piece of  music,

Or wandering  through the yard.

It leaves at no particular time

And often takes detours,

There's food for thought in the dining car,

Where imagination stirs;

Travelling in my private car,

Alone, I ride along,

Oblivious to the outside world,

Lost in my own song,

         

So quiet is the engine,

You can miss time passing through,

Till you wake -  the ride is over,

And a dream steps off with you!

Mental Health Issues affect everyone, and it is so important to support all of the initiatives that are breaking down the harmful stigmas that are keeping people from recognizing symptoms and seeking help.  Laughter and humour can be powerful coping tools for all of us, as can the act of nurturing:

Talking To My Plants

I talk and talk and pour it out;

The philodendron's all worn out!

 The poor hibiscus is in a state,

The aloe plant can hardly wait

For me to rest my vocal glands,

The prayer plant just threw up her hands!

                   -------------

She's talking to her plants again,

She offers them a drink,

They're very good at listening

When she's deep into a think;

They never interrupt her,

When her mind's on the attack;

They welcome her encouragement

And try to give some back;

They share a secret nature knows;

Life is a giving wheel,

To nurture beauty where one goes

Leads our hearts to heal,

One more circle,

One more time,

It's our turn at the wheel.

In Johnstown,Ontario, just East of Prescott, there stands a strong 60 ft. tower, a former windmill and now a heritage lighthouse.  It was the site of the historic Battle Of The Windmill (1838), fought between approximately 250 insurgents called Patriot Hunters, from the United States who were sympathetic to the 1837 Rebellions in Canada, and local militia and British soldiers.

 A group of citizens called "The Friends Of Windmill Point" was formed in 1996, their mission to ensure that this impressive tower and its grounds are kept in good shape and open to the public during the Summer months, both as a resource to educate about the area's history and to share its beautiful vista.  I have been impressed by the number of people from all over the world who come to this site to view the beautiful St. Lawrence from the top windows of the tower, and to learn its story.

 On July 1st 2017, to mark Canada's 150th birthday, the FOW installed a symbolic light at the top of the lighthouse; When it was decommissioned some forty some years ago, its light had been extinguished.  As a recent member of  the FOW,  I wrote the following poem, a tribute to its strong, nurturing character:

The Windmill Lighthouse

I have folded my arms

They are gone, long ago,

And my eyes have been closed

To the travellers below;

I still gaze over water,

And watch in my way,

As below my strong tower

Parents stop, children play;

Their harmless mock battles

Remind me today

Of those others who died,

And oft times I pray

For the lives of the men,

Who surrounded my tower,

Could they not feel my sorrow,

Could they not feel me cower?

I cried when my walls

Were a refuge for men

Who came not in peace,

But misguided intent.

Now, I witness your struggles

As you pass by each day

And I silently cheer

When you choose the right way.

For years I've been waiting

Where your forefathers stood,

Now, once more I will shine out -

A symbol for good.

Feel The Sun - Be The Sun!

The sun is still up there, just wanting some quiet time and has closed its curtains for a much needed break.  It doesn't mean to offend us by this gesture; perhaps it is just setting an example and giving us some protected space to take our own time for reflection. 

 I try to help the sun out by creating my own small bits of sunshine, for myself and for my fellow life travellers;  some of my favourite attempts come from a paint box of words.  I try to steer away from the depressing colours of complaints, and those that create poor images of myself and others. The words that paint harmful gossip, and inspire only uncomfortable laughter will slowly but surely turn all of the other beautiful colours to a muddy grey - best to avoid!

In the grand scheme of things, we each have the potential to create sunshine by just being honest with ourselves, appreciating and sharing ourselves with others, complete with all of the faults that make us who we are.  The best way to turn a grey day into a sunny one is to take ourselves less seriously - to laugh at ourselves and to share in the humble humour of our humanness: (say that 3 times fast!).

Miss Patient!

Miss patient was a person

With a problem and a pain;

She went to see a doctor,

And she asked him to explain;

“I have a list of symptoms,

Though I don’t like to complain;

I wrote a few things down for you

To try and make it plain:

I’ve a pimple on my elbow,

A cracking in my knee,

And a funny sort of  popping sound

That really bothers me,

A ringing in my ears, a tingling in my thumb,

I can’t put my finger on it,

‘Cause my finger’s feeling numb!"

The doctor was quite patient

As he diagnosed her pain;

"The answer is not easy,

But, I'll keep it short and plain -

It seems to me, Miss Patient,

You've a hyperactive brain!"

Happy New Year!

For myself, this year is starting off like every other 'New Year' - I am filled with longing for the world to somehow cast off its destructive attitudes and give us all the gift of hope;  for world leaders to  look to the welfare of its neediest citizens.   As I listen to news reports, that doesn't seem very likely;  Big media tends to focus most of its energy in highlighting all of the worst that mankind is capable of.   Small town media, on the other hand, brings us that hope in the form of uplifting stories that it prints of caring people who make a positive difference,  and of events that lift us all as individuals and members of a community.   Let's all aspire to love and to hope:

The Loom

The peddlers of woe

Are bending their bows,

Filling their quivers with fears;

The weavers of doom

Are  warping their looms

With  the delicate threads of our tears;

They add warp and weft

With fingers so deft,

Creating their coats of despair,

While we shiver and wait

In our uncertain state

For a glimmer of hope to appear.

Those peddlers know well

That fear and woe sells,

Though it takes a sad toll on the soul;

What a price we all pay

When  greed leads the way,

But there could be an alternate goal;

Let us pick up our shields

Where they lie in the fields

Of our dreams and our hopes for tomorrow,

And fend off the foe,

Tell those merchants of woe

That we don't want their weapons of sorrow.

What a beautiful garment

We all could create,

One incredibly vast in its scope;

Strong and divine,

To enfold all mankind,

On a loom strung with love, filled with hope.

   Love is our shield

And hope is our loom