Just A Place I Used To Be

Just A Place I Used To Be

hold on

When did it happen? Somewhere, seemingly in the night, while I lay sleeping, life shifted.

It changed from this epic journey I was on where everything was possible, to a journey I had been on. Like a roller coaster ride, I boarded it, so excited and full of excitement and then suddenly we were climbing the biggest hill, pausing at the top, taking in the view and then whizzing around the track, laughing, gasping, holding on for dear life, barely able to scan ahead to see what was coming next. And then, suddenly you could feel it begin to lose its momentum and the ups and downs began to lessen and level out. The curves were not as tight and the speed was lost and you knew you were heading for the platform where the ride ends.

How we would wish for one more big thrill. But no matter how hard we wished, the ride was coming to an end.

I woke up one morning and the way I looked at things was different. Nothing had happened, there had not been some big epiphany, nor had I made a monumental choice, it was just different. Once where I would look at something and it felt like a someday possibility, things now remind me that part is over. There is a sadness all mixed up in my go to it attitude and joy of life. Read more

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What is REAL?

What is REAL?

rabbit

I have never seen the world as it is. I freely admit that.

I don’t ever remember any time of knowing where I did not completely understand that I was different. I have always understood that how I see things and the way I think about them, is NOT how other people do. I had two choices, to forget who I was, or not. Except it is never as simple as that. Choosing to hold on to me came at a bigger cost. It meant I would probably always be on my own at best, and at worst, I would be the one that others directed all their personal angst at. I would make myself a life-long target.

It might have been different if being me was about going quietly on my way but being me is loud and full of laughter and excitement and enthusiasm. It is compassion spilt all over everywhere and tears . . . tons and tons of tears . . . sometimes in sorrow but also in pure joy and love. I love people with loud exclamations. I fight for the people I love and I fight for those that no-one loves. I never sit down and keep my mouth shut. I see everything. And everything means something to me. I scream for people to see the elephant. I draw chalk outlines and colour it in so that everyone has to be able to see it. I call people liars when they refuse to see it.

I have never learned how to hide what I am under a bushel. Read more

The Art of Joy.

The Art of Joy.

Malipiece

You have to appreciate this picture with me.

I have recently started colouring, blaming my daughter Tina who gave me a colouring book and crayons for Christmas and unleashed the monster. Then I joined a couple of the groups on Facebook and it was kind of like baptism by a dunk in the deepest ocean . . . while holding a heavy rock .. . . . duct taped to your hands.  Suddenly my life was everything colouring and the passion and intensity of people driven to colour every day, in every way, endlessly, over and over, buying and consuming all things colourful rip tided me way out into the deep beyond all rescue.  My life was taken over by the raging river of nonstop posting on my Facebook.  My phone sounded like it was having an epileptic attack with all the dinging to notify me of another post.

I couldn’t even see anything my friends or family posted on my feeds.

Best week of my life.

(kidding)

And most of the work is exceptional and beautiful beyond what you could imagine possible with a coloured pencil and those that are not quite up to that standard are just beginners who will nail it and surpass their teachers in no time.

I spent a lot of time researching, as is my way, and learning about the terms and the supplies etc. I always figure, if I suck at colouring, I can impress them with how they make those prisma coloured pencils or which paper is the best to use and why. I am never sure if people are impressed with what I have to say or just that any human being can talk that fast and for so long without breathing.

I will take what adoration I can get. Read more

Going Home

Going Home

home

This year I returned to Canada. I had been going back once, twice a year, for awhile but once my mother in law became ill, and our daughter here was having problems, we found ourselves landlocked for almost 3 years.

Moving to a new country set off an emotional conflict within. Where is home? I am living here in Australia but am not connected to it or people in the way I was once connected to Canada. Yet, I am no longer in Canada and people move on without me and I have been making my own journey that has led me far from what was once so familiar.

I felt guilt that returning to Canada leaves me with more and more apprehension while returning to Australia feels more and more like a home coming. I felt that on the very first journey here. It was like my soul had come home to a place where it belonged. I had never truly felt “at home” anywhere, but one visit to Australia changed that. It was the feeling, a generalized, non specific feeling not attached to anything, or even logic.  It just occupied my heart and nurtured it in a way I had never known before.  I felt my soul letting out a long and deep sigh.  I settled in, and I never wanted to leave. Read more

Reflection 2015

Reflection 2015

learned

“One thing I have learned with certainty is not to stand in connection with those who diminish me. This is particularly difficult when family is involved, because we have a vested interest in perpetuating the family system for all kinds of different reasons. I don’t believe one should endure abuse no matter how attached they are to an idea of family. There are many families (read: soulpod) waiting for us just outside our habitual awareness. We are not responsible for those who diminish us. We really have to get that. We can be compassionate and we can certainly understand where their abusiveness comes from, but understanding the origins does not mean we have to endure it. It’s not our cross to bear.” Jeff Brown

We live our lives and reach out to those around us that we feel a connection with. Sometimes that connection comes from a sense of duty, sometimes it is from a shared activity, sometimes we are moved by compassion. There are times when we share interests with people or just connect on a number of levels and enjoy their company. In addition to all of those, we often make extended efforts with members of our own family because the loss of family can seem so alien to everything we know and have been taught. Families are supposed to be forever. They are the ones that are always supposed to have your backs. Read more

I Used To Have A Brother

I Used To Have A Brother

had a brother

How long does it take a heart to give up

I was sitting yesterday watching the baby rabbits play and remembered that I had a brother. It was the strangest thing.

I said it to myself and kept repeating, “I have a brother.” I think I was waiting for there to be some emotional response. Sadness? Curiousity? Anger?

I tried to feel something … anything.

Nothing came.

I have a brother. I have a blue dress. I have a guitar. The grass is green. 2 + 2 = 4 . Facts that mean nothing. Read more