Last day of October

My dear lovely Gint, fellow writer, fellow artist,

We have journeyed together through the month of October and succeeded in posting many interesting thoughts along the way. We did not do it every day as planned, but that in itself is cause for congratulations! I will explain.

There were times during this lovely month of October, when spoiled by the deliciously mild weather, that I arrived at my computer at the end of the day, exhausted. My eyes would literally fail me by the last few lines of certain blogs. I dreaded opening my laptop the following morning for fear of what I had written the night before. But thankfully, my sleepy self didn't fail me too badly.

So why should we be commended for not keeping to our challenge, you might ask. Well, my dear Gint, I see it like this: Life is bigger than our ambitions. Love whether self love or altruistic love should sometimes take precedence over our commitments. And that's what we did.

Yet, to our love of writing, we will return. It is a constant in my life. It unburdens my heart, diffuses my confusion, expresses my awe. It is playful, joyful and deep. Writing is who I am.

So, Gint, let's have coffee anyway. Let's celebrate being writers and above all being human.

Love,

Mary

Do it anyway!

I love when I can do something for nothing, something that is born of another realm beyond myself. Sometimes, it can be silly like jumping up to touch high branches as I jog along. Sometimes, it can be serious like accompanying a loved one to court. I don't know why I am doing these things. I don't feel compelled or obliged. I am just following an energy that flows through me.

I expect nothing. But I get so much back.

Whatever this urge is, it puts me in alignment and takes my thoughts away from my habitual patterns to something more like not thinking, something more like oneness.

Surprised by Fall

I looked down the street that was boarded with trees at different stages of maturity, all coniferous. A breeze arose. In that instant, the leaves took flight from the place they were born and where they had lived all the months since the early spring. In one great sweep they became a swirling creature of color. This brown, yellow, red and orange arch fell gracefully to the ground as another one took its place in the air. A little further up the street, another tree released its own flurry of color like a responding dance partner.

I stayed immobile for a while as a question formed in my mind, "who is this for?"

Then, " where is the bride?" "Where are the guests?"

I already heard the music. A wild mystical party was happening there before my eyes.

Magical Touch

I gave Andy a massage today. She was in pain. She's been in pain for a while now. She was sitting outside our kids' school on a bench. She couldn't laugh or breath deeply. Last week, she couldn't move her neck. I tried to touch her back a week ago and she screamed. At least I knew to touch her very gently.

There was a spot beside her shoulder blade and it was as if I could see a ball of energy stuck there. I rubbed it very gently. I rubbed around it. I rubbed a little deeper. She was moaning and groaning with pleasure. I felt energy rise in my own body and focused it into hers to help disperse the knots she had accumulated.

"No body ever does this for me," she muttered.

I know the feelings she is experiencing, how like magic a touch can release a brick load of stress and fear that is stored in our bodies. I wonder why someone else's touch is so much more efficient and pleasurable than our own.

I also realize that being the toucher is a beautiful sensation, that is evokes feelings of affection and connection to the person I am touching.

I spontaneously bent down and hugged her cheek to my cheek. And a very comfortable easy intimacy developed in such a public place.

I'm a One Man Woman (well, one at a time)!

When my first marriage broke up, I believe I was manic depressive. The whole world of this Irish Catholic girl was pulled from under my feet by my ex's infidelity. I did the usually grieving process, denial, anger, acceptance for about six years! I was twenty six years old and had two very young children. We attempted to save the relationship with therapy and an exotic holiday. But it was beyond salvaging.

I do admit that it was falling in love again that finally broke me away from this very toxic relationship. Years after our breakup, I still felt my ex was watching me and judging me. I felt his anger and it scared me until I began to heal myself.

I was determined to join the group "Divorced Catholics for Celibacy"! But that idea only lasted a few days. I was living in Paris after all!

Now, the French say that you get married because of lack of experience, you divorce because of lack of patience and you remarry because of lack of memory! But I have to say that my second marriage was completely different from my first. It was more grounded, more peaceful and richer in quality. But it too has come to an end after many attempts at saving it. My family and friends have been very patient with all our on's and off's. They have given up all commentary!

Where do I stand now? I have been very down on love and then up again. I have philosophized about it, generalized about it, researched it and now I am trying to trust it wherever it leads.

As I was chatting online one day this week, I noticed a quotation beside the chat box. It said, "for those of you who have given up on love, trust life just a little bit" (Maya Angelou)

If I can say one thing about my own experiences with monogamy is this: Stop taking it so seriously!

The Cherries and the Pie

My writing teacher used to say that if you can't think of anything to write about, to write about the fact that you don't have anything to write about.

Maybe the reason for this blankness is that I am doubting myself these days. (Yeah right, "these days", when do I not doubt myself?) Okay then, I'm having different doubts than usual! Great a new one! I am doubting that I will get to do everything I want to do before I die. I am doubting the image I have of myself in my head. I am doubting my urge to keep trying to do new things.

Then an image pops into my head, well two images, one from the past and one from the present. The one from the past is of a little boy from my home town, who was bullied very day as a kid. I only learned of this recently. It turns out that my own sister was bullied by the same person and I never knew. It makes me sad for them and everyone who is bullied, the fear, anxiety and pain they were subject to. How small and vulnerable they must have felt.

The other image is of my nieces, nephews and my own children dancing in sequence in my house this evening, smiling and laughing. And doing the routine quite well. I felt privileged to be a part of this scene and was drawn in even more because of the imprint in my mind of the image of the skinny little red head who was been bullied every day, perhaps as I passed him by.

I vowed to be more conscious of all the children around me and to fill each exchange with more vigilance, more care and of course, my favourite, more love.

In the end, what does it matter what I do or don't do, how I look or don't look to myself or others, what I write or don't write? They are only the cherries on the pie. The pie is awareness and love.

Do less. Play more.

I love being alone, doing my own thing. I like being in my own company. I have a great time with myself. If the world was made of Marys I'd never be bored.

But I'd probably never grow very much either.

What others help me to see sometimes are the parts of me that I don't like.

My four year old did this to me today.

I was very pleased with myself at the start of the day. Everything was in divine order according to the sacred laws of the Mary mind. Then at the last minute before walking out the door to take the kids to school, Aoife put the breaks on. I walked out to the car and started it, turned it around in the driveway and finally send my nine year old into the house to get the little brat.

About five minutes later he emerged saying he couldn't find her. I went in and searched for another five minutes. At this point we were already then minutes late. Finally, I stood very still in her bedroom and listened. I heard her breathing and followed the very faint sound. She was hiding behind her bed. Well, I was so angry with her, mostly because she had refused to answer me.

She was just playing a prank on me. But I was already stressed, so I didn't appreciate it.

I do tend to do too much for my kids. This situation is just my own behavior biting me in the ass! The antidote is to try to do less for the kids but play more with them.

Well, I'm going with that anyway!

Healing my Heart

Sometimes my heart hurts and I'm not sure why. I think it's because of someone who has hurt me or someone I miss. But, today, I am thinking, that it's just a sore spot on my heart and someone reminds me it's there. They don't even know they're doing it, most of the time. I should thank them for pointing it out!

So today, I wished for my heart to be healed, healed from all abuse and neglect it suffered by me and others. It is my supreme wish of the day, above all else - being a writer, having stuff, getting rid of all my worries.

The reason for this is very simple. I believe anyone who knows how to truly love selflessly with all of their heart is the most accomplished, the happiest, the wealthiest person in existence.

Now maybe my wish cannot be granted in a day. But maybe remembering my wish everyday will help me to fix those sore spots!

The Seeds of Happiness

Inside our minds are the seeds of goodness and happiness. It is like we were intended to be everything our heart desires us to be.

But like the seed, these intentions need the right conditions to grow - light, nutrition, healthy soil. The soil of our mind is sometimes too loose for our seeds to take root. Sometimes too tight and the roots are choked. Yet how often have we seen a plant growing through concrete?

The light and nutrition are our daily habits, how we treat our bodies and our minds. They give us clarity and energy.

The circumstances we find ourselves in, are potentially the spark that can change any of these conditions. In essence our relationships give us the opportunity to be more loving to ourselves and others. Love is the key to unlocking these seeds.

Knowing that the seeds of happiness are inside us, not outside gives us back our power to take control.

If the deer embryo is intent for beauty, grace, skill, speed, strength, and some would say "perfection", then why not man?

Will you?

Will you always take care of me?

Will you hold and comfort me?

When I’m old and grey

Will you love me anyway?

When I’m batty as can be

Will you still respect me?

Will you floss all of my teeth?

Will you keep me clean and neat?

Will you take me into to sun?

Will you be there when the day is done?

When I’m dying, fading away

Will you tell me it will be okay?

And I know that it will be

As long as I know that you love me.

Reconcilliation

When an ancient wind blows gently through my mind,

it calls me away from the usual patterns of thought

away from the carnal world,

whose weight has been stealing away my youth.

It leads me to another place between the trees above the rooftops,

a dazzling place of cloud and golden light.

It sways me softly 'til I let go.

The glimpse of it haunts me,

and leaves my world so hollow and grey.

This longing was with me since childish days,

when I yearned to go home, to be lost in the sky and the air.

To at last be free,

to float on beauty.

I searched the days and nights

I tried so hard to realign my life

adjusting time, chasing pleasure, ignoring pain

Forcing and pushing and disciplining

I did not cry

I did not protest

but I started to lie

To tell myself stories to ease the wound

of a sin that did not belong to me

Now the tears flow

and make way for the peace

I watch them evaporate into the light and the air

I seat myself on the throne of love

and dissolve into the all.

A Beautiful Moment

I had a beautiful moment today.

Sitting with my dogs in the park, my kids playing happily. I was watching a man run up and down the hill with his dog. Then they lost my attention and it went to the trees.

Against he backdrop of a pure blue sky, were some silver birch already naked, some maples with red, yellow, orange and even some green leaves. Of course a few evergreens, some pine and some cedar, were dispersed throughout the scene.

I had been thinking about the future, plans and dreams, while mesmerized by the high jinks of the man and his dog. But in this moment, I decided to let it all go.

In the next second, a wind picked up and blew everything as if in celebration. Or perhaps it came to take all my worries way. Every tree waved at me, every branch blew me kisses.

And I smiled.

Touch

Humans of our time store a lot of tension in our bodies. We disrespect the natural rhythms. We overeat, overwork and are filled with all sorts of chemicals. Now more than ever, we need touch.

Touch reconnects us with our true self. It liberates us. It takes away some of that stress. It opens us up to new possibilities and gives us renewed confidence.

As an energy worker, I discovered that there is no such thing as negative energy. There is energy that feels heavy and dense but that doesn't make it bad. It has taken on this form because it has been blocked. Usually because of a belief we hold that doesn't suit us. One such belief is that I am only valuable because of what I do. This belief causes us to overdo it. We are rarely valued for doing nothing in our culture. In fact, this non activity usually generates jealousy or contempt in those around us.

As Tommy Tiernan says, "a no loitering law is basically a law against doing nothing".

So what I am proposing is to take some time to do nothing. Then while you're doing nothing, you could value yourself for all that you do and all that you don't do. Then let someone touch you or you touch someone, or both.

You'll feel happier. I promise.

First Run

There he stood in her doorway, tee-shirt tucked into belted jeans, with Birkenstocks and woollen socks on his feet. The sun gleamed down on his balding head. Soon his sweat would drip mercilessly down onto his “John Lennon” frames, as he boasted on splurging on a haircut at the barbers that day.

She contemplated that although they were the same age, he spoke like he was from another time. He was an intellectual mechanic, a professor in overalls. He was poised, had self control, his words, well measured, his gestures, precise.

With eager smile he stood before her, ready for a run.

She stared at the sight an instant then politely inquired, “So you’re standing me up?”

“No why do you ask?”

“Because you don’t have your runners on”, she offered but held back on the question that must have been written across her forehead, “you’re not thinking of running dressed like that?”

“Oh, I don’t believe in them”, he casually replied. “You can do anything in these things”. He lifted his right foot to show off his brown “St Francis” type sandals. “I got them a few years back. They offered me the Velcro type, but it’s not my style, I’m more retro”.

“No shit”, she thought.

She tried to reason with herself, “I didn’t have all the right gear the first time I ran”. The horrified side of her brain screamed “but I didn’t look like a dork”. “Shut up, Mary, you’re being shallow. You didn’t ask him to come with you for the way he dresses”. “Fuckin’ good job you didn’t” the evil side of her personality replied.

But she liked him. He reminded her of how she used to be. “Slightly retarded” the evil side of her whispered. The thudding of feet, the strain and pain of the beginning of a jog finally shut the dark side of Mary up. Her final comment being “fuck this is hard, why do I do this again?” And she was gone.

Running

I sweep aside thoughts of my half finished bedroom, the leaky tap and untidy house.

I strip naked of my dress pants, leather shoes, pushup bra and silky knickers.

I don comfortable cotton ones, a contraption that immobilizes my breasts, white running socks, a black hoodie, black track pants, a bright pink sweat shirt and the two items that always come along- a beloved pair of well worn runners and my lucky running cap.

No need for sunglasses, the sky is grey.

I strap the dog leash around my waist, stretch up high, bend down low and declare:

“I’m going for a run”

I growl and show my muscles to smiling kids who know I’ve been cranky since I woke up.

And out the door I go.

The dog pulls me toward a bush to relieve himself and I feel the cold penetrate the outer layer of my body.

I assure myself it won’t last.

I break into a run – a slow run.

I check my form - shoulders down, chest up, the core guiding my way.

The dog pulls again. He has his usual peeing grounds.

I hug myself, still cold as I wait.

He knows now that we stop no more.

I leave the houses, roads and cars behind and enter into trees, wild vegetation and pathways carpeted brown, red, yellow, mostly maple leaves.

The rhythm of my breath plays along with the rhythm of my feet hitting the muddy earth.

Warmth spreads outwards.

I feel moisture on my neck.

I ascend a hill towards the grey Humber river, that flows from my left to my right, slowly towards Lake Ontario, adorned along its way by trees whose names I do not know.

I take it in with a deep breath as I smile enjoying the movement of my body, as the dog pants along beside me.

A bulldog is off leash on the path ahead. We meet this animal regularly and the dogs don’t like each other.

The man notices me stopped in the distance with my sitting brown and white Aussie by my side.

“Viens ici” he calls. He black and white canine doesn’t move, his glare intent on Shep.

The man reattaches the leash and we approach.

I greet him. Our dogs growl at each other. Mine struggles to get to his. I pull him back. We pass them but my finger is throbbing after the exchange.

We resume our run. The pain quickly dissipates as we approach the expanse ahead. There is just one ray of sunlight illuminating a boat in the middle of the panoramic water. Golden sparkles surround it.

I contemplate the sight and imagine myself on the boat, bobbing in the beauty.

I take it with me as I turn back, my return journey.

I look down to see how my companion is doing and find his tongue hanging out the right side of his mouth. The pink flesh flapping around never fails to make me chuckle. I notice I am not tired, not out of breath, nothing is compressing my heart as it used to in the early days of running when every step held some kind of suffering. I used to dream of this day. I feel victorious.

No fishermen line the riverbank today. Old flowers lie where someone drowned. There is a new graffiti in bright blue, white and black. A pigeon hides under the bridge cooing. Trees have been cut down, so I see more of the river. Their stumps showing freshly cut insides.

My thoughts wander to my kids, my finances, my friends, my issues. Numerous solutions come. I leave them all, I let them be, choosing none for now, attaching to no thing, no body, no concept, no philosophy.

I approach the hill, my finish line. There is no question I will not stop. I tilt slightly forward, feeling the stretch at the back of my calves and maintain my pace. I focus, intent on climbing without tiring. No other thoughts obstruct me.

At the top, I stop and walk the rest of the way home, without having to catch my breath.

In the shower I stretch, allowing the water to take the sweat from my scalp, all the way down to my toes. I close my eyes and feel every drop as it pours over my skin. I am only aware of words in my mind.

Water

Sound

Light

Beautiful white machine of flesh, muscle, bone, blood, tendon...

I am aware of shoulders, breasts, hips, toes.

I smell of fruit and lavender.

It all stops and I fold my hair in a Dora the Explorer towel that smells a little of my baby girl.

Then I take a bright blue one and erase the droplets from my skin.

It is warm enough to stand naked as I brush hair, teeth, floss, moisturize.

I pick khaki pants, a black sweatshirt, pokadot socks, a white silk bra, brown cotton undies and brown sneakers.

I face the day. Where do I begin? How can I keep this focus, this feeling, this energy?

I take my brown leather bound journal and my purple ink pen. I lie on my belly on my white and baby blue quilt in my half finished bedroom. And as my children laugh and roughhouse below, I write it all down.

Walking in Dreams

It's a beautiful thing to take a walk at 6 am. The stars are still out and I can find systems at a glance. At the moment it's a bit cold but nice and dry. So the walk I take during the final hour of darkness is very pleasant.

I should probably run but I am enjoying taking my time. This morning I didn't bother getting dressed. I just put a coat over my pajamas and donned my worn out running shoes. I snuck out the back door, hoping no one would be woken by "the silence of someone trying to be silent" (Stolen from John Irving, A Widow for a Year).

The streets are different. There is an empty peaceful vibe like I can hear the residents sleeping, like I am walking through their dreams.

I do meet some people, not many. Some smell of cigarettes or perfume. I'm sure their breaths smell like coffee. But they don't want to greet me, they don't want to make any contact with me and that suits me fine. Even the rare dog walker changes direction when they see me coming, or else I change mine.

We are shadows in a dream not wanting to be noticed. A part of us still wants to sleep. So we go quietly on.

I pass houses decorated for halloween or fall. I pass expensive townhouses, fancy sprawling monster homes, but I am more interested in the small bungalows. They are on the extinction list. Many of them are full of character with elaborate gardens. Rare is the one that isn't well kept. They speak to me of goodness, diligence, and simplicity but also of warmth, comfort and clarity.

I see windows of apartments alight. I see objects like statues and paintings that are unfamiliar. I wonder where these neighbours came from. I wonder how much hidden talent lurks in the dark places of my hood waiting for an opportunity to show itself and enlighten all.

When I am about five minutes from home and freshly ground coffee, yogurt with cereal and fruit, I find a sky that has turned dark blue. Some days I turn a corner and it is infused with an orange that fills everything and takes all my thoughts away. They are the days I want to stay there and honor the dawn.

Cousins!

My nephews come to sleep over sometimes. There is a little extra noise in the house but it's beautiful noise because it's happy. I try to encourage outdoor stuff because my nine year old son, who knows more about computers than I do, is constantly showing them videos and games. Some of the videos have a lot of beeps on them so it's easy to tell that they are not age appropriate. I usually yell my warnings at Shane and he changes the video until he thinks I'm not paying attention.

Today I let him have it for overloading the smoothy maker. He did the same thing last night and the poor machine was smoking! Later, I served sliced fruit and Shane served up the peanut butter to go with the apple slices. But he served half the pot. I raised my voice again "maybe you'll understand when you're paying for the food!!!"

When I was clearing up the table, my oldest nephew said "but Mary, there's so much peanut butter left, is it going to go to waste?" He lovely face was frowning.

Although I reassured him that I would make Shane eat it another day, I was touched by his concern. He and Shane are the best friends in the world but in this respect, they are so different.

The most magical part about having my nephews over, apart from watching them have so much fun, is when they are all sleeping. One on the top bunk, Shane below and the younger one on a mattress on the floor, one daughter in my bed and the older one in her own. They are all fed, teeth brushed, and completely tuckered out with fun. I feel full of goodness, content, complete.

Thank God for technology

So the pioneers came to North America and we celebrate Thanksgiving. The pioneers were probably shitting it when they came to this vast untamed wilderness where the winters are insane.

Every summer when the weather is gloriously pleasant, my mother says"this is why we came to Canada. Every winter when the deep freeze is more pleasant than outside our door, I say, "remind me why we live here!" Nowadays, we have cars, central air, snow boots, thermal underwear and jackets that make us look like Michelin men. We also have planes and boats and trains who kindly bring us everything we need to eat from warmer climates. And still I complain.

For anyone who has never experienced this cold, let me tell you that it not only burns your skin but it penetrates your bones.

What were those pioneers thinking? One winter here, back in the day, I would have taken my chances on the next boat back to Europe.

There's only one thing I don't understand. Why didn't they celebrate thanksgiving in Spring?

They must have said, "Thanks be to God, we got through another winter!"

Baby don't hurt me!

Jealousy and possessiveness happen when some of us are in love. I might venture to say that they are sometimes a by-product of a romantic relationship. But I strongly believe that they are not love. They are the opposite to love - fear.

If I am insecure because of relationships you had in the past, or I flip out because of someone flirting with you, or I think I am the only one capable of loving you, then I am not loving, I am controlling and arrogant. If I love you, I set you free. My jealousy might stem from a fear of living alone or being alone. Or it could have something to do with my low self-esteem. I might think you're going to leave me because that person who is paying attention to you, is somehow "better" than me.

Although I do believe that monogamy is a good thing to uphold, it does not earn me ownership of a person. Monogamy whether recognized by church, state or just the two people involved, is a contract. And a contract can be broken at anytime. I have, at all times complete ownership of my body, mind and heart. Just because I love you or loved you once does not mean that I sign myself over to slavery.

A healthy monogamy should be a contract that is always being discussed and revised as time goes on. At the beginning, I might say "I choose to be with you on a regular basis and I request exclusivity." My partner chooses and agrees or disagrees.

Essential Love is unconditional, love trusts, love bears all, love rejoices in good, love is selfless, love wishes for the good of the other. Love conquers all. Love never ends.

Trying to figure it out

I was very afraid when I witness what happened to our city during the G20 summit last summer. It made a crack in my sense of trust of the authorities.

I taught my children to respect the police, the law, the government. And I felt betrayed by all. We may never get to know the whole story of why such heavy handed tactics were used, why they created such drama in our peaceful streets, why the went out of their way, with our money, to disrupt a maximum of lives that week, why they arrested so many people because of maybe one hundred black block, if there were even that many.

Why are they so afraid of the black block, who are essential a non violent group? The word violence was misused over and over in relation to the protesters but the only violence that was used was by the police. The correct word would be vandalism. Yes, they vandalize property to make a point, it is a symbolic action. I am not advocating this action, I am explaining that the black block pose no threat to people, only to property. Their logic is that our property (our planet) is being vandalized by the members of the G8/G20 and the corporations that they represent.

My conclusion is that there are at least two different ways of thinking about this. There's the "you fuck with me and I'll fuck with you" attitude. Or there's "let's try to figure this out" attitude.

The police and the black block fit in the same category.

I usually try to fit into the second category although, last summer, my fear, anger and despair, drove me more into the first. I actually cut my hair because of what happened to the women who were arrested. I cut it myself. I wanted to somehow cut something away from me that linked me in anyway to the way my sisters were treated. Again, it was symbolic. I am not one to throw a brick through a window. I would like to raise my children peacefully without a criminal record, thank you very much. But hearing that young women were threatened with gang rape, were strip searched and sexually abused, not even provided with proper sanitary equipment during the 24 hours they were held, was too much for me to take, without doing something.

As a young man who is very close to me, who was threatened, insulted, searched, gassed and fired at during the Toronto protests, said, "I will never be the same. I was shaken to my core".

Me too.

The Greatest of all these is Love

I think that most people will agree that the greatest human virtue is the ability to love. But really what is love broken down to its purest part? It is empathy or compassion. It is the ability to be with someone in joy or in pain. The ability to sit with them in hell or soar with them to the heavens.

One would think that the joy is easy, but not always. If I don't know joy within myself, I can't share it with someone else. So my self-love and the enjoyment I take from my life is actually beneficial to all those I touch. Because joy is infectious.

Pain is sometimes more difficult to embrace. My own pain sits somewhere at the back of my mind, I love to ignore it. Then I meet someone who is suffering so I just want to ignore her. I am too busy pursuing my own happiness. But if I stop and hold her for a while, I take the opportunity to develop love in myself. All emotional pain is a gift, an occasion when I can decide to open my heart and mind more or close it up.

How can I understand the suffering of another if I have never suffered? Holding another through their healing gives me the opportunity to heal myself, to cultivate love. So that then I can soar so much higher.

Where happiness hides

What are we all trying to do anyway? Where are we all going? What are we running after?

Well-being? Love? Happiness?

What if we just stopped for a while and found well-being, love and happiness inside. Or in contemplation of a body of water, a tree swaying in the wind, the eyes of our beloved? The source of all lasting happiness is hidden in these types of experiences. This is my daily bread. This is the nourishment of my soul. This is my prayer, my meditation. This is how I give glory to all that is. This is my religion.

I remember being very sad when my son was just a few months old. The words of a friend came to mind. "When you are experiencing a painful emotion focus on something uplifting for twenty one seconds. This exercise will raise you up."

So I did it. I looked at my baby boy who instantly smiled at me. The more I looked at him, the more he smiled and giggled. I ended up being infected by his joy. It didn't completely erase the pain but it came pretty close.

I find myself by a lake on a mild day, with nothing to do but enjoy the sensations of summer, observing the patterns in the water, allowing myself to be hypnotized by them. These are the patterns of life, they are the music that is written in my soul. They take me back to who I am, and I become drunk on the sensations of the moment.

Without the sustenance of these eternal moments I am only a part of what I can be. With them I am more relaxed, more patient, more focused, more loving. Isn't that what religion is all about, making us better, more whole?

Reach out confidently

I was a single parent of two children for three years, living in Versailles, far from my family and all I grew up with. I worked full time, had my kids in two activities each and took drama classes myself. I had so many friends that I was sometimes worn out. We had great parties, with an abundance of good food, good wine and the best champagne in the world, music and dancing. My closest friends would never do anything without including my children and me -excursions to the theatre, movies, swimming pool, or a game of dodgeball in the park.

Was I lonely? Sometimes.

I was lonely when I had problems I couldn't share with them, like money problems. Money was a bit of a taboo and still is to a certain extent. Self esteem is wrapped up in money or spending power. So there were only about two people I would ask for help with money and it always took a great effort from me to do this.

There was another occasion when I felt lonely. On days like Mother's day or Easter Sunday or Christmas day or even most Sundays at lunchtime. People would typically arrive by car to the building where we lived. They would ascend the stairs to the different residences, laden down with flowers, desert or other packages. They were visiting their parents or aunts or cousins. This sight tugged at my heart, my family being in Canada.

But the worst isolation was to feel alone with my children, with their pain, with their rage, with what I perceived to be the injustice that was done to them. I was twenty eight years old when my single parenthood status began. That was very young to deal with an abusive unfaithful husband, a divorce, and two small children in the mix, not to mention finances.

I know it's not the worst thing that can happen but it was hard to carry all that alone, or what felt like alone.

There is no absolute cure for loneliness because it is most often in our own minds that we are alone. My mother used to say "a problem shared is a problem halved". So, that's my cure!

Rise the Knowledge

Life can be harsh and cruel and a lot of it is actually legal and socially acceptable, like verbal abuse, isolation and greed. Some is illegal, yet the perpetrators are not brought to justice because of connections they have or power they hold.

On the other end of the spectrum, there are people who are taken care of to the point that their power is taken away. They are prisoners in a gilded cage.

Most of us in the developed world, fall somewhere in the middle. And this is a healthy place to be but we all dream of riches, being pampered, having all the material things we desire. We are distracted, seduced by the dream that we can have it all, while our fellow humans are maintained in the bondage of poverty, injustice and ignorance.

We, in the middle, are perhaps as free as a human can be at this point in time.

We are free to marry whom we choose. We can keep our children with us and raise them as we wish. We have the right to food, education, medicare, religious practice. We have access to employment in whatever field we choose. We have access to technology. We can vote. We have freedom of speech. We are relatively safe. War is a distant thing. Most humans in the world are not so fortunate.

And what are we doing with our freedom? What can we do with our freedom?

Firstly we can decide who we choose to be. Am I someone who takes responsibility only for myself? Or am I someone who considers the bigger picture? When, I look back, do I see destruction or do I see improvement?

Do I vote to have more money in my pocket? Or do I vote to improve the environment or to empower others?

Are my children going to be happier with a bigger inheritance or a better planet?

There is no political party that represents me. I believe in people. I believe that people are leading themselves off track by forgetting what's important at the moment.

We may be deceived now, we may suffer injustice, but it will not last.

"Tiocfaidh ar la"

"Our day will come"

A Red Headed Brother

When I lived in Paris, I encountered young people who did some time for drugs or petty crimes and when they were released, had no one to help them out. So they lived on the streets, and begged outside my local supermarket.

One such person was a red headed twenty year old with a baby face. He reminded me of my brother who was living an ocean away. So naturally, I wanted to help him. This usually took the form of a sandwich, a drink or, at easter, some chocolates.

The group of three or four buddies greeted me by name and a hug every time we met. They were warm but respectful. They didn't even ask for anything. They accepted what I offered. Occasionally, I gave them a coin if I was short on time. If I had time, I would chat with them and ask them questions about their past, their families, their plans. They still had hopes and dreams even though they were at such a low.

Several months had passed without a chance encounter. Then, one day, around Christmas time, I came upon my friendly red head. When I approached him, and was at about two feet from his face, I noticed that his dilated eyes were distant. He looked right through me. There was no light, no smile, no recognition in him. He asked me for spare change as he stumbled over his own feet. It saddened me.

The next time I met him, he was sober. I told him I had seen him and that he hadn't recognized me, and asked him, "Why do you drink?

His reply stayed with me because I could think of no argument to counter it. "I drink because it's cold living on the street."

Something told me that the cold he was referring to, was not just the temperature.

Do what you love

Imagine we could really influence the reality of our bodies, our lives, our planet and all we have to do is exactly what we all want to do, with all our being, all the time - love!

Everyday Buddhist practitioners cultivate compassion in meditation. They send love into the furthest reaches of the universe, starting with their own bodies. Recently, scientists are coming close to proving that this practice actually has an influence on physical reality.

Nowadays, the belief that we can have an effect on our bodies with positive thoughts is widely accepted as true. So, to take that belief to the next level wouldn’t be a big stretch.

My question is what are we waiting for to put it into practice?

And, what have we got to lose?

For sure, there are the survival duties to perform, or the responsibilities to our loved ones. But as Kahlil Gibran says, “If you cannot work with love but only with distaste, it is better that you should leave your work.”

Often families are not what we expect and we are not carved out of a model of the perfection ourselves. So we may not live up to each other’s ideas and so we shouldn’t. Sometimes, help, hospitality and affection comes from friends or even strangers when we need it.

It would be better for me to leave the care of a relative to a neighbour, who would be delighted to be of service, rather than do it with a reluctant heart.

We need to exercise more caution with the words “should” and “have to”. When we use these words, often we are giving away our power.

Everything we do is a choice. There are some choices that have become so ingrained in us that we don’t see them as choices anymore. But they are, and the great thing about choices is that we can change them.

Sometimes these words are used as excuses that maintain us at an acceptable level of self pity. “I have to do this job even though I hate it, because I have to pay the bills.” How about choosing to do this job because I choose to pay my bills? Or, choosing to spend my lunch break looking for another job. Or, taking on a room mate so they can share the bills. Or, doing what I love whatever the cost?

“If we are not here to do, what you and I want to do, and go forever crazy with it, why the hell we are even here?” (Gogol Bordello)

So, what do you choose to do or not do?

Who do you love?

The family I grew up with for the most part are "normal" in their attitudes towards sexual orientation. There is little or no homophobia in us. But it is not true for everyone. Now because we have so many in our family it is statistically impossible that there are no homosexuals in our midst. Yet to date no one has come out. Normally I would say that it's none of our business. But today after hearing the news of so many teens who are killing themselves because of bullying or intolerance, I believe it is everyone's business.

It is everyone's business to check the negative programming in themselves that it's okay to joke about being gay. It's everyone's business to speak up if someone is making a homophobic remark or slur. It is everyone's business to make sure that children are comfortable with talking about and exploring their sexual orientation.

We need to ask the question. Do I love my children or family members unconditionally or only if they are heterosexual?

Each person has to do their own work on themselves to undo the prejudice, the judgements, the discomfort. Imagine you're the one who's different from the norm. If you're heterosexual, imagine being gay is the norm. How would you feel if you were threatened, ridiculed, and even beaten because of something you can do nothing about.

Can you control who you love? Who you fall in love with? I can't and I'm not sure I'd want to. My heart opens up and teaches me so much when I fall in love. The world becomes altered in my perception. Even if my heart ends up in shatters, I learn, I grow, I experience, I live.

How can I say it's different for a woman who loves another woman or a man who loves another man?

In a way, I would like to be gay so that I could say to my nieces, my nephews and my family, "Look, I'm gay. I'm fine. I'm happy." But I can't because the truth is, that as beautiful and wonderful women are, I am attracted to men. There's nothing I can do about it. Sometimes I wish there was!