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!

Dad, Just Being Himself!

Dad -  Just being himself!

 

Is that you Dad? 

As I sat here thinking about my dad, I suddenly heard, 'Ah, How's my little darling dumpling?' and a warmth filled my heart.

This silly little nickname that our dad had given us girls, always made us smile and feel loved, no matter what antics we had been up to or how intense our squabbling; We were still ok - we all knew how much dad loved dumplings!  Just hearing it in my head has caused me to smile once more, and to reflect on how difficult it must have been for him to pull out funny one-liners or to soothe us with his songs, on days when life was far from easy, but gifts like those make wonderful, uplifting memories.  They are a powerful healing potion for bruised and battered egos that are determined to hang on with all of their might to hurts that were suffered over the years.

One of the most important and difficult jobs that a Dad has to do is to love himself for all that he is and in spite of his faults, to open himself up to being vulnerable and then letting others see him for who he is, with all of his spots.    It sets a humble example for his children who need someone to accept them as individuals with their own endless potential - potential that they will feel encouraged to develop, because they are loved unconditionally for who they are.   Children need parents who are strong, in many ways, when they are coping with life's storms,  and there is great strength in humility, in kindness, and in being able to maintain a good sense of humour -  wonderful weight-lifting tools that Dad used daily!

   I believe that our loved ones are never really gone from us, and it's always a wonderful affirmation when they tap us on the shoulder or whisper in our ear, and remind us of their presence:

"When lightening charges

With its sword of light,

And cuts a wound

In the peace of night,

And shakes you awake

With a thundering quake,

Just close your eyes

And hold on tight.

When the sky grows grey

And opens its taps,

And shouts so loud

That the clouds collapse,

You needn't fear,

For I'm always near,

I'll be holding your hand

When the thunder claps!"

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!

The Skeptics' Dilemma

The Skeptics' Dilemma

 

Skeptics come, and skeptics go,

Their mantra being, "It 'ain't so!"

But deep within their hearts they know

That doubt alone is not enough,

That they are made of sacred stuff,

So, on they search for what rings true.

 

Truth is silent, so to speak,

If what is 'so' is what they seek,

Their minds must then in silence meek,

Submit themselves to spiritual realm,

And wrestle God who holds the helm,

And calms the storms that we create.

 

Drop anchor in this sea of doubt,

When our ship of life gets tossed about,

And our spirits writhe and scream and shout;

The rock of faith that lies below

Will aid the seekers of the 'so',

Will hold us firm, and calm our sea.

 

And so, it goes, in our to's and fro's,

In our hope-filled highs, and our let-down lows,

In bursts of light and in dark shadows;

Doubts abound; we're bound to have them,

Searching waters we can't fathom,

We lose our grip on our preciousness.

 

We all are seekers of the 'so',

Searching for the deeper flow,

Hoping that someday we'll know.

Perhaps it's not so complicated,

Doubt is highly overrated,

Truth and love are 'so' related,

Then so be it, for it is so.

A Knock Knock Symphony!

 

A Knock  Knock  Symphony!

Knock, knock, who's there?

I'm listening to our neighbourhood symphony this morning – Ah! the quiet! – just the birds, the soft rustling of  leaves ….. and a human woodpecker somewhere in the background, shingling his roof - hammering his heart out! 

 

An actual woodpecker, possibly sensing the competitive power of that human bird’s pounding, started up his own version of  'Hammer Time';  He was ramping up to warp speed - a woodpecker can peck up to 20 pecks per second – 'Take that, you human!'

 He stopped briefly to check on the competition and to stare pityingly at the poor fool who didn’t know enough to use his head; He was getting absolutely no food coming out of the boards on that roof that he was working away at - " an arm with a stick? Ridiculous!  not nearly as effective as a good old noggin knockin'!"

"Wait - What's this?  His mate just handed him a tall drink of something and a bag full of food!  Perhaps the stick pounding thing was a mating call?  Where's my mate?  Someone get me a stick!"

 

"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!