Tag: life
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Turning the ship
My husband Graeme was a clever man. Both as an intellect and as a contemplative. While we both taught mindfulness, he used to claim that I was the ‘better’ mindfulness practitioner. In all reality, he was like an anchor for me. He had an uncanny way of putting things into perspective, whenever I became lost.…
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Do our expectations get in the way?
I can remember being a smug teenager who constantly reminded my mother that if she was going to place expectations on me, she was only setting herself up for disappointment. I have no idea where I got the confidence to make such an assertion and at such a young age; however, it was not far…
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Lost and found
For quite some time now, I have been inspired by a beautiful poem written by David Wagoner called “Lost”. This past week I discovered that Wagoner based his poem on a traditional teaching given by Indigenous elders in the Pacific Northwest (U.S.A.). The story goes that a child asks an elder what to do if…
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This is to mother you
This past weekend, my daughter was complaining about a sore back. In her complaint, she asked me to make a doctor’s appointment for her. To which I reminded her that she was nearly twenty two and perhaps it was time that she makes her own doctor’s appointment. She laughed and replied that she was tired…
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Re-emergence
Many years ago, a dear friend of mine happened across what she called ‘the day of the frogs’ . She had been over for an evening of soap making and had just moved into the area. When she left to drive home, she was a bit unsure of directions, so I made her promise me…
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The epiphany of awe
I am what some might call a prairie chick. Well, maybe I am a hen now. And yes, I know it isn’t exactly PC to relate myself to a bird- the poor chickens 😉What I mean by this statement is that I was raised on the Canadian Prairie. For those of you living in Canada…
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The cure for apathy
Watching the news this past week should have come with a trigger warning. Just as I was settling down to a Friday night of relaxing TV, live news coverage rolled in. Rather than feeling an ease into the weekend, the politics of our day activated a sense of shock, disgust, anger and ultimately a sadness…
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Home is where the heart is
Whenever I think of the phrase ‘home is where the heart is’, I see a handstitched needlepoint in a wooden frame hanging on a wall in my grandmother’s house. The word ‘home’, almost like a beating heart, yearningly calling us all in for some of her warm, soft love. Perhaps, this is what Maya Angelou…
My Silent Place 