Some interesting facts that I gleaned from our friend, Google:

- Doodling can provide a respite from the things that are stressing you. Letting your mind wander through doodling is a way to break negative thought patterns, and getting creative is believed to calm the part of the brain linked to anxiety.

- doodling is an effective means of remembering information, stirring up new ideas and focusing a frazzled mind. 

- doodling helps in alerting your mind and helps in improving focus & concentration.

- Doodling, or drawing simple images, can have numerous benefits for those with ADHD, including: Improved focus.

And I thought I was just having fun! 

What's a Doodle!
 
I drew a tiny circle
As I waited for my brain
To shift from neutral into gear
And turn back on again;
My doodle kept on growing,
One circle at a time,
And I let it lead me further
down its happy doodle line;
It was really looking fine!
 
I put a little music on
And let it have its say,
As off I went in sweet content,
A-doodling all the way;
It didn't matter where my pen
Decided it would go,
I switched from forward to reverse
And wandered to and fro;
I just let it flow;
 
How wondrous was my doodle,
These lines that stretched my smile;
Just one more circle,
 then I'll stop,
Or maybe pause awhile;
Lost in time, I'll let my heart
Relax in peace replenished;
With such a wondrous dose of joy,
My stress has been diminished—
And, like the paths our lives take,
A doodle's never truly finished!

 

Some memories are kept in a secure car on life's train; others are just passing through.  As we shuffle the cars, let's always be the smiling conductor!

The Memory Station

If I forget to tell you
What it is I just forgot,
Please don't think
That I don't care,
Or that my memory's shot;
My thoughts are simply racing
Around a busy track,
And may have missed
A stop or two,
Or have fallen
Through a crack,
But not to worry,
I'll keep pulling
Memories from  my pack
Till what it was
That I forgot,
Remembers to come back!

 This poem speaks to my nostalgic longing to step into a meadow of childhood hope once more:

Back To The Meadow

 Oh, how I miss those childhood days,

Where oft on lazy summer days,

I wandered through the colours,

Picking daisies as I passed,

Counting petals, one by one,

The last one sighing, "We are done—

He loves me not, alas!"

 

Meet me in the meadow,

Where the nodding daisies dance,

Where the butterflies and buzzing bees,

Dodge around the watchful trees,

Soaring now above the tips

Of those snow-white landing strips,

Endowed with elegance;

 

Meet me in the meadow,

When the morning dew has past,

And all the flowers have been infused

With moisture dropped in rainbow hues;

When buttercups and clover sweet

Greet my touch and heed my feet,

That move along too fast;

 

Meet me in the meadow

And bring your cares along,

Let them come into perspective,

They are only an elective,

Let childhood joy replace your care,

Let nature's scents flow through your hair,

And healing memories be strong.

 

 

                Hopefulness

Let me walk today in hopefulness,

And open my gifts with glee,

Let hearty laughter

Tickle my toes,

And wash off the hurt     

Of yesterday's woes.

Setting my spirit free;

 

Let me paint a picture of playfulness,

A visual song of joy;

Let my soul create

A work so bright,

From a hopeful palette

Filled with light,

That fear cannot destroy;

 

Let me greet each day with gratefulness,

For it offers a brand new start;

With my ears attuned

To the wonder of sound,

A smile on my lips

To prepare the ground,

For the words of a hopeful heart;

 

Like the little birds playing o'er fields of grain,

Falling, then touching, and rising again,

Let us offer glad thanks

For the golden expanse,

That beckons us all

To create our own dance,

Not sit on the sidelines of hopefulness.

 

You know that isolation is getting to you when you start looking at mice as kindred spirits!

As I was meditating my way through some Tai Chi movements this morning, I happened to notice a mousetrap set in the corner of the room, and my mind suddenly headed off on a nostalgia trip.   It took me back to some of my early artistic endeavours; children's pictures that included  some of these wee folk dressed up in quaint costumes; happy little pictures, of happy little creatures, in happy little settings.

In this time of isolation, when our individual personal environments are drastically reduced, when our tactile interaction with those we love is interrupted,  I am reminded that we all share a larger family home:  Nature waits, with its arms wide open, to welcome our long-overdue attention and appreciation, and to give back happiness in return - we need look no further than the small, simple things.

  A Mousey Meditation!

As I sat, meditating,

And searching for light,

An ominous mouse trap

Came into my sight;

Off in a corner,

Of my humble house,

Sitting there, waiting

For some little mouse

To come, uninvited,

And fall for the trap;

I winced as I thought of him

Caught with a snap!

Perhaps that wee creature

Was watching me too,

Waiting nearby,

And seeing right through

My frustrated efforts,

As I tried too hard

To find life's deep meaning;

He'd catch me off guard;

Keeping it simple,

He'd gobble the cheese,

And leave with a 'thank you!'

As bold as you please,

Wishing me luck,

As I seemed to be stuck,

Caught in my own mousetrap! 

  Keep it simple -  gobble the love, leave pride in the trap!

Isolation Blues!

Isolation Blues!

These days, we're all singing the Isolation blues in our own unique ways; some of us are feeling very out of tune and trying hard to reach those positive high notes;  For some of us, we are finding the verses getting annoyingly repetitious!

Please forgive the musical irony - It comes after listening to the many wonderful concerts, at so many levels that are being generously offered by musicians, artists and athletes, both locally and around the world to raise money to help our fellow countrymen during this time of crisis.

All of us want to contribute whatever talents we have, to express our love and thanks to all of the front line workers putting themselves at risk every day, and to help the less fortunate.   Giving back in whatever way we can,  particularly the act of sacrificing closeness with our family and friends, makes us all part of this wonderful 'Team Canada'.   

As I was breathing deeply, and letting go of the stress for awhile, I wrote a simple little poem that expresses a desire for peaceful happy times.  It also encompasses gratitude for the silver lining in all of this down time - a chance to really look and listen to each other, to our children and grandchildren, and to appreciate the really important elements of life.

What if?

What if there was no war to fear,

No hurtful words

To wound the ear,

No vain attempt

To have it all,

No selfish smirks

When others fall;

What if we gathered smiles and flowers,

If loving acts

Were our super powers;

If we rose each day

In gratitude,

Spreading smiles

In happy mood;

If we, like children, saw the world,

One tiny wonder

At a time,

With curiosity

Unfurled,

Each challenge,

But a tree to climb;

What if we saw our work as play,

And laughed,

As little children do;

While giving love

In simple ways,

Needing just to hear,

 "Me too!"

Then, let us lay our troubles down,

And take some time,

Be still awhile,

Take our cue

From little ones,

Paint rainbows,

And share a smile!

You can't think of St. Patrick's Day without thinking of wonderful Irish music!   I want to pay tribute and thank all of the musicians, singers, and song-writers who have left us such a wonderful legacy of song and dance, and to all of those still writing and keeping those musical spirits alive and laughing for us.

Some of my favourite musical memories were the many times over the years we were entertained by  Mervin Kelly and his friends in the Celts group, and by my Uncle Jimmy and my father who would entertain us at family events, at the Metcalfe Farmers' Market,  and would occasionally sit in with Mervin's group.  For all of you musical Irish spirits out there:

Paddy Smiled

Old Paddy made a sorry sight,

His clothes had had their day,

But, he brought the fiddle to his chin,

And Oh, could Paddy play!

The bow, it jumped and danced along,

The notes freed from their staff,

And as others clapped and sang along,

Oh, did Paddy laugh!

His laughter took him back again,

To life in County Clare,

To friends around the table,

To family over there;

He turned those memories into song,

A tear plucked every string,

Then, all went quiet in that room,

For oh, could Paddy sing!

Then up he hopped

From where he sat,

And stepped out toe and heel,

Folks jumped up to join right in,         

As Paddy played a reel;

The room was filled with gaiety,

Hearts lifted for awhile,

Strangers now became his friends,

And oh, did Paddy smile!

Every sharing touches a life,

A hard times smile shines the furthest!

A Coat Of Many Colours  

               

The world's population is growing by immense proportions, and it is easy to fall into a negative frame of mind as we wonder how we can ever handle the  stewardship of this home of ours, called Earth.  We can either look at this growth  with fear, focusing on man's negative effect on the planet,  or we can look at it in hope as we recognize the unique beauty and potential in each life. 

The homeless person on the street may not live up to our perceived notion of what a contributing member of society should be; his language and appearance may offend, but as we all know, appearances can be deceiving;  We may never be able to see the many beautiful coloured threads that have come unravelled in that person's life, but the gift of a smile and a kind word may provide the first stitch that will start his or her coat to mending;

Though God's creation is vast, each of us is a priceless thread in His great tapestry, and though blue is my favourite colour, if God used only blue threads, what a boring canvass that would be.

 If we let fear of losing what we perceive to be ours by divine or earned  right take precedence, and try to block all others from our door, it is like trying to keep the sky from changing colour;  we would be the losers in the end;

Past The Blue

It's my blue sky,

So pure and blue,

There's nothing else

That shines so true,

I hope it lasts forever!

A bit of red

Is creeping in,

Changing blue

To violet  hue;

But never mind,

I like it fine,

It really looks quite clever;

Some yellow hues

Have joined the red,

And turned to

Brilliant gold instead;

I didn't think I'd like it but

It really is outstanding!

And when it touches

My blue sky,

A green so bright

Lights up the sky

And makes a scene enchanting;

That sky that I

Perceived as blue,

Was so much more

Than my small view,

Its beauty has a depth so vast,

A sea forever changing;

Every life contributes

A thread of priceless hue,

Unraveled lives we chance may meet,

Without them we are not complete;

Each time we add them to our blue,

God says, "Yes, that's brilliant!"

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!

Me And My Ski Poles!

Me And My Ski Poles!

Walking with ski poles ?  No way - I'm not going to have people looking at me like I'm weird!

But, here I am, a convert.    After being introduced to the concept by the good folks at Walker House (and my husband) I checked it out on the net -  According to write-ups about it, 'The logic is simple:  Normal walking utilizes muscles in the lower half of the body while pole walking is a whole-body activity that uses muscles in the back, arms, shoulders and neck.'   After reading about all of its other benefits,  I invested in a pair of brand new shiny ski poles and headed down to the waterfront  the next day to join up with the 'Chicks With Sticks' group.   With a little guidance in adjusting the height of the sticks and some advice on how to use them properly, I was off!   Now, I try to get out on my own as many days as possible for a 'ski' down the highways and bi-ways of Prescott.   On one of my walks, I was feeling just a little self-conscious as I veered to the left to pass a middle-aged man out walking his dog:

   "Doing a bit of urban poling, eh?"   he remarked.   Urban poling?   Why.... yes!  That's exactly what I was doing - not just out walking with a pair of ski poles;  I suddenly felt very trendy, indeed!  

     I must remember that phrase for a time in the future when my trendy ski poles get replaced by a  very necessary cane(s).   Getting feeble?  Not I - I'll simply be out urban poling!

As for the psychological and spiritual benefits:

I'm off

With my poles

For a walk

And a think;

With a bottle

Of water

For these lips

To drink,

I'll gather new thoughts

For this old brain

To link

To the people I pass

And the wonders

That wink

At my deep contemplation;

I'll treasure each link

In the chain of my think,

I'll sweat with the small stuff

And feel my cares

Shrink!

Digging Out My Wings!

Digging out my Wings!

'Angels Watching Over Me' - I pulled out Amy Grant's CD this morning, and was listening to it as I went about cleaning the dishes, and thinking about cleaning the rest of the house.  Here I am, an hour later,  still thinking about it  - the song and the cleaning!  The whole subject of angels walks the fine line between hope and skepticism.  A very wise and beautiful aunt recently sent me a card telling me that she has become more aware of her own guardian angel watching over her and inspiring her with encouragement, wisdom, and an awareness of God's loving protection as she struggles with the challenges both physically and intellectually of her aging body.  She sent the message to encourage me and mine to not give up hope - to know that we are each much loved and worth so much more than our human minds can fathom. 

Rather than making ourselves and others sick with gloom and doom thoughts, worries about loved ones or about  the sorry state of the world, I have been reminded, once again, to pull up my attitude.   We are not alone, and we are really not in charge, no matter how many gurus give us the opposite message.   Rather, we are precious children all, big and small,  short and tall, and we all need help when we stumble and fall. 

Whether you believe in angels or not, the truth is that without hope, this life has no meaning, so we should welcome its messengers, whatever form they take:  angels, friends, or strangers with kind smiles and actions, who carry it with them and pass it on to us.

I usually grope, eyes half open, towards that first cup of coffee to start my engine each morning - Perhaps I should be reaching first for the hands of my Guardian Angel - hands that have been given a very busy task list, watching over me!   In gratitude, there is no reason that I can't put on my own small wings of hope and lighten someone else's journey today. 

 Pass it on - halos are optional!

"I Don't Know How To Love Him."

 

"I don't know how to love Him."

For me, that line, sung by Mary Magdalene, and later by Judas,  in the rock opera, 'Jesus Christ Superstar' was a wake-up call.

 It is our tradition at this time of the year, just before the celebration of Easter, to take out our recording of that rock opera and spend some quiet time just listening.   Each time that we do,  My husband and I are transported back to the year 1973.  There, in the living room of our small home in Osgoode, we gathered with a group of good friends and shared an idea that was inspired by a project that my father-in-law's church in Montreal had very successfully taken on.  A group of young people there had put on a slide and light presentation using the music from the original recording.

 Why couldn't we?

 With the support of our Parish Priest and members of  St. Brigid's Church - which ranged from hesitant at first to completely enthusiastic by its completion, we shared, debated, and grew with the project.  Through the cold Winter months we met in a warm atmosphere of excitement and camaraderie as we delved into the Easter story and all of the deep meanings and ramifications of that 'story' as they were presented in the Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice musical.

 Our idea was to immerse the audience in a richer experience with lighting effects and slides, bringing a visual dimension to the music, to provoke deeper thought.  We gathered and perused hundreds of pictures of everyday objects and people, which, viewed in the light of the music,  became not ordinary, but extraordinary!  We even created some of our own with shadow pictures (I'm thinking Tommy Kelly with a makeshift crown of thorns and a robe).  We were challenged both intellectually and spiritually to confront the interpretation of the 'truths' as put forth in the original production.  On Good Friday, we were nervous but ready.  There was no need to worry - All of the controversial aspects of the production were forgotten in an atmosphere of surprisingly deep reflection.

After Jesus spoke his final words:  "It is finished.   Father, into your hands I commend my Spirit."

there was complete silence, and then a beautiful musical interlude. With a spectre ball casting starlight about the darkened church, no one wanted to move or speak - It was truly a powerful unspoken prayer - one in which we each asked of ourselves:  "How do I love Him?"

A Magnificent Obsession!

Magnificent Obsession!

I thought that working on puzzles was supposed to be good for your brain?  That was my intention (honest!) when I pushed the go button on the Jigsaw Puzzle site.  Now I feel like the fellow in my  'Computer Games' poem (from "How To Wash A Puddle").  'I've been sitting here at least an hour,'   Make that an hour and a half, then two hours!  Talk about an obsession taking hold!  You know you're in trouble when you start looking at beautiful scenery around you, and you start picturing it in puzzle pieces!   It's given my 3 a.m. wake-up sessions a whole other reason to worry - putting together a puzzle in my mind does not make for a good sleep potion.   I'd try counting sheep, but then, I'd be dismantling them into their various parts before they got over the proverbial fence.  Help!   

Time is so precious - I should be putting it into one of the many really worthwhile obsessions.  I don't know how many of you have read the book called, 'The Magnificent Obsession';  It was written many years ago, in 1929 actually,  by Lloyd C. Douglas (Douglas was also the author of 'The Robe' among many other books that were made into inspiring movies).   The theme of the book is the 'pay it forward' concept.  The main character has a life-altering experience:  He is saved from drowning  at the expense of the life of a much-loved doctor:  He leaves his life of frivolity, and is inspired to become a physician, saving the lives of many others, to pay back the sacrifice that was made for him.

How does this relate to my 'puzzle' dilemma?  The world holds many tempting distractions that keep us from having the  time or interest to accomplish things that will pay forward and make a positive difference in the lives of others.  When the time comes for the big picture to finally be revealed to us, may I have turned my puzzle pieces into small acts of kindness in appreciation for all of the pieces, big and small that others have given to me, that have helped me to make sense of  this amazing puzzle called life. 

Living life fully, by giving, is truly a Magnificent Obsession -  Onwards!

Merry Christmas!

Nan, I love you - You're the best!

This whole 'rant' began to take form after my recent 3 a.m. TV viewing of 'It's a Wonderful Life'.  Through my bleary eyes, I watched and blubbered as the message of the tremendous ripples created by every life, unfolded and enfolded me:

I have two notes that I carry in my pocket;  one is a list with my children's names on it, the other is a little note from one of my granddaughters that reads, 'Nan, your the best'.  There is no greater compliment and nothing that warms the heart and says thank-you like those simple words - Honest words of love that come straight from an innocent heart.

 When I think that I have screwed up and wasted my time - that the efforts that I have made to try and contribute something positive to the world have been small and insignificant, I put my hand into my pocket and feel the love that emanates from those two well-worn notes, and I am reminded of what our bottom line in life should always be: growing love, in whatever directions our lives takes us.

The Advent calendar is running out, together with those yummy daily chocolates!  May I suggest that we make up a special 'pocket box' for the remainder of the season: In the days left before the celebration of the birth of Christ, let us place notes in His 'pocket' - notes that say, 'I love you - You're the best!'  and sign our names to them.  On Christmas morning, we can be sure that He will reach into His pocket, and feel those notes - notes well-worn by the love of His hands, as he has taken them out and read them every day - Better than chocolate!

 

Merry Christmas!

Drop That Rock!

Drop That Rock!

Why are you hanging on to that hard old rock? 

Why not jump into my beautiful canoe!

To be fear-bound is like being stranded on a hard, unforgiving, cold and dismal rock, in the middle of a beautiful sea.  Fish and birds are dipping and diving and singing all around, but you cannot join their voices or play because you are afraid to fall off of the rock.   Your fingers are cracked and bleeding from hanging on so tightly, your eyes are closed shut against the light, and your voice is non-existent - it has been crying out for help for so long that it no longer has any sound. 

So why not loosen your grip, one finger at a time, and let those fingers feel the water - The water is healing and warm, and hope begins to dawn.   There is a beautiful canoe a few feet from the rock - complete with paddles!  Hope grows a little stronger; the wind calms, and a light current pushes the canoe closer and closer - You step into the water and feel its energy surround you; the canoe is at your side - hope wins - as you step in.

In my little meditation, the rock and canoe represent our spirit's struggle to stay locked up or to go, to give up or to flow.
I love the following quote from one of my little 'Friendship' books (a very helpful paddle),   "It is true that there is an ebb and flow, but the sea remains the sea."(Vincent Van Gogh) 'You might have good days and bad but, just like the sea, you will always be you.  And that is wonderful.'

'Be brave, Humphrey!'  It's time to let go of that stress-o-matic clump of woe!  Grab your paddle, whether it's in the form of a good friend, a pen, dancing shoes, guitar, something that represents hope to you, and watch your ripples start to flow - step away from the rock and find your song! 

 

Off With Her Hat!

 

Life is a highway,

Crossing hills and streams,

But it’s often on a detour

That we realize our dreams.

 

On the highway, there is loud noise, fast decisions to be made, and frustration at slow or reckless drivers - so much impatience for the sake of a one-to-five minute interval of time, saved or lost.  We are all fellow travelers on life's highway, each in need of and deserving of, a hearty dose of  B.O.D. (benefit of the doubt).

Lately, my head has been longing for quiet drives down beautiful country roads and lanes, where nothing is asked but just to let go, throw off the hat and to slow down and breathe. 

 ‘Take me home, country roads, to the place I belong'.   John Denver has been gone 15 years but I find myself right back where I belong every time I turn on his music and listen to his thoughtful lyrics.  Many times it's the stereo in my head playing, and that amazing sound system doesn't drain any power source; it just seems to replace negatives and add positive charges - How good is that?!  (love this 'Jane expression'!)

So, when one of  life's detours off of its busy highway comes along, the delay  may initially be frustrating but, given time, we may hear its voice speaking or singing in a calm reassuring manner:  ‘Why not have a look around since we’re now committed to each other?’

A highway is not always the surest, and certainly not the most peaceful way to a destination - and we occasionally need to follow our heart's GPS: perhaps a trip down a beautiful old side road is actually the route we were looking for all along.  As I fly (make that flutter) along on life’s bi-ways, letting my hat fly off,  that cool, peaceful breeze of tolerance feels wonderfully refreshing!