Today marks a day of remembrance in the States of all of those in the military who have sacrificed their lives for freedom. A tradition since the end of the Civil war.
In recent years their numbers grow daily.
When tragedy strikes and civilians lose their lives in any circumstance, it seems appropriate to remember them on this day as well.
Honoring the memory of each individual means living the most honorable, love-filled life one possibly can, expressing gratitude for each day as it unfolds . . . .
Monday, May 30, 2011
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Time Allows Healing
Twenty two months have passed since I last saw my mother and soon it will be two years.
One year ago today I was hiking the Seven Sisters in England and wrote about this experience on my return; however, I was unable to post in my blog on the ten month anniversary of her death.
This had been the first time I did not write here on the fifteenth of the month.
Each of those first twelve months it was important for me to do so, as that gesture enabled healing to occur.
In spite of moments of sadness, I now feel at peace.
In fact, I have a new mantra that assists my inner journey to that place where I am most comfortable . . . Peace, love, joy . . . the sea is calm.
One year ago today I was hiking the Seven Sisters in England and wrote about this experience on my return; however, I was unable to post in my blog on the ten month anniversary of her death.
This had been the first time I did not write here on the fifteenth of the month.
Each of those first twelve months it was important for me to do so, as that gesture enabled healing to occur.
In spite of moments of sadness, I now feel at peace.
In fact, I have a new mantra that assists my inner journey to that place where I am most comfortable . . . Peace, love, joy . . . the sea is calm.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Mothers
Sunday is Mother's Day in this part of the world, at least it is one day set aside each year to celebrate one's mother.
For men, there is also Father's Day in June to return the favour!
There are probably as many different types of mothers as there are women on this planet.
Unfortunately, not all are the nurturers one hopes would conjure warm and fuzzy feelings at the mere thought of them.
All are human to be sure, with the frailties that state of being brings.
Some women have been fortunate to have had an excellent role model in their own childhood, and they become 'naturals' it seems in the realm of motherhood.
Others become parents accidentally and are ill-prepared for the lifelong task.
Most fall somewhere between the two extremes.
Those who embrace the role passionately, usually thirst for knowledge and spend countless hours learning all they can with respect to raising children.
When there are past unresolved childhood issues, these can surface, most at a subconscious level, as mothers guide or merely observe their boys and girls as they enter each stage of development.
Opportunities for personal growth are afforded when this happens, or conversely unconscious inner turmoil can create trauma influencing parenting decisions affecting their children.
Now that I am a mature woman with adult children of my own, I recognize that my mother was an individual who did her best with what she knew while raising me and my siblings.
In her elder years before her death, my mother's youthful personality came to light after years of being submerged while caring for others.
She was of a generation of women who believed caregiver was mostly synonymous with martyr.
Fortunately I learned the fallacy of this belief, although not before experiencing some of its negative consequences.
Self-caring is what enables one to be a healthy caregiver.
Whatever type of mother one has/had, the most important reason to celebrate Mother's Day is to express gratitude for the woman who brought a life into this world &/or the woman who parented that individual, you!
For men, there is also Father's Day in June to return the favour!
There are probably as many different types of mothers as there are women on this planet.
Unfortunately, not all are the nurturers one hopes would conjure warm and fuzzy feelings at the mere thought of them.
All are human to be sure, with the frailties that state of being brings.
Some women have been fortunate to have had an excellent role model in their own childhood, and they become 'naturals' it seems in the realm of motherhood.
Others become parents accidentally and are ill-prepared for the lifelong task.
Most fall somewhere between the two extremes.
Those who embrace the role passionately, usually thirst for knowledge and spend countless hours learning all they can with respect to raising children.
When there are past unresolved childhood issues, these can surface, most at a subconscious level, as mothers guide or merely observe their boys and girls as they enter each stage of development.
Opportunities for personal growth are afforded when this happens, or conversely unconscious inner turmoil can create trauma influencing parenting decisions affecting their children.
Now that I am a mature woman with adult children of my own, I recognize that my mother was an individual who did her best with what she knew while raising me and my siblings.
In her elder years before her death, my mother's youthful personality came to light after years of being submerged while caring for others.
She was of a generation of women who believed caregiver was mostly synonymous with martyr.
Fortunately I learned the fallacy of this belief, although not before experiencing some of its negative consequences.
Self-caring is what enables one to be a healthy caregiver.
Whatever type of mother one has/had, the most important reason to celebrate Mother's Day is to express gratitude for the woman who brought a life into this world &/or the woman who parented that individual, you!
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Devastation South of My Border
With all of the grief that my American friends are experiencing in the states, I want to acknowledge these losses.
My heart goes out to you. My prayers are with all of you.
Many tragedies are occurring worldwide. All are important and deserve our reflection and assistance in whatever way we are able to do that.
Balancing all of this devastation is the excitement and happiness of The Royal Wedding about to take place Friday in London, England.
The global community needs to balance tears with laughter, just as each of us benefit from doing this individually.
When directly in the midst of horror it is impossible to find this balance ourselves, and it is the responsibility of each one of us to provide comfort and support to others even if only in the gesture of sending positive, healing thoughts . . . .
My heart goes out to you. My prayers are with all of you.
Many tragedies are occurring worldwide. All are important and deserve our reflection and assistance in whatever way we are able to do that.
Balancing all of this devastation is the excitement and happiness of The Royal Wedding about to take place Friday in London, England.
The global community needs to balance tears with laughter, just as each of us benefit from doing this individually.
When directly in the midst of horror it is impossible to find this balance ourselves, and it is the responsibility of each one of us to provide comfort and support to others even if only in the gesture of sending positive, healing thoughts . . . .
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
April Snow Showers as Easter Approaches
Disheartening that it snowed here yesterday.
Of course, that is nothing compared to the devastating losses incurred from a bombardment of tornadoes in North Carolina and across several states recently.
Everything in this life is relative and fleeting.
Unpredictable to say the least!
In this part of the world, the rhyme 'April showers bring May flowers' is replaced with 'April snow showers bring . . . . '
Uncertainty or at least delayed growth.
Embracing each moment while treasuring one another seems the most uplifting course to take as Easter approaches.
The anticipation of resurrected life that this time of year signifies, be it through our Lord as a Christian or spring renewal as a naturalist, brings a hopeful attitude to all, which creates a certainty that life will unfold as it is intended and the cycle will continue . . . .
Of course, that is nothing compared to the devastating losses incurred from a bombardment of tornadoes in North Carolina and across several states recently.
Everything in this life is relative and fleeting.
Unpredictable to say the least!
In this part of the world, the rhyme 'April showers bring May flowers' is replaced with 'April snow showers bring . . . . '
Uncertainty or at least delayed growth.
Embracing each moment while treasuring one another seems the most uplifting course to take as Easter approaches.
The anticipation of resurrected life that this time of year signifies, be it through our Lord as a Christian or spring renewal as a naturalist, brings a hopeful attitude to all, which creates a certainty that life will unfold as it is intended and the cycle will continue . . . .
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Spring Fever, Mud Hikes, Air Strikes
First day of Spring according to the Vernal Equinox, although the temperature is off the mark.
Not long from now, the air, as it warms, will carry all of the sweet scents of this season.
Unlike yesterday, when my mud hike through the Rouge Valley, although sunny, was accompanied by a very cold wind chill.
My group encountered ice-covered trails mixed with mud-covered ice boulders, and bogs of thick muddy clay forests to negotiate.
As I navigated an outdoor obstacle course, our allied forces with UN sanction were conducting air strikes to implement a no-fly zone over Libya.
More lives will be lost in the quest to ultimately stop the genocide the Libyan dictator is perpetrating on his own people.
Quite the opposite from the peaceful revolution scenario that unfolded not too long ago in Egypt.
And then of course, there is the grave situation in Japan.
When I absorb the grief in this world, I become like a sponge, and I can no longer function normally. The heaviness of it all weighs me down.
Laughter does not come easily, nor does sleep.
My body, mind and emotions are exhausted. Restlessness stirs me to find healing.
It is time to seek the sea, sand and sun which will enable me to transition from winter to spring.
As smooth grains of sand caress my feet while soothing waves serenade my soul and warm sunlight bathes my being, I will listen to the inner voice that can only be heard in the stillness.
Not long from now, the air, as it warms, will carry all of the sweet scents of this season.
Unlike yesterday, when my mud hike through the Rouge Valley, although sunny, was accompanied by a very cold wind chill.
My group encountered ice-covered trails mixed with mud-covered ice boulders, and bogs of thick muddy clay forests to negotiate.
As I navigated an outdoor obstacle course, our allied forces with UN sanction were conducting air strikes to implement a no-fly zone over Libya.
More lives will be lost in the quest to ultimately stop the genocide the Libyan dictator is perpetrating on his own people.
Quite the opposite from the peaceful revolution scenario that unfolded not too long ago in Egypt.
And then of course, there is the grave situation in Japan.
When I absorb the grief in this world, I become like a sponge, and I can no longer function normally. The heaviness of it all weighs me down.
Laughter does not come easily, nor does sleep.
My body, mind and emotions are exhausted. Restlessness stirs me to find healing.
It is time to seek the sea, sand and sun which will enable me to transition from winter to spring.
As smooth grains of sand caress my feet while soothing waves serenade my soul and warm sunlight bathes my being, I will listen to the inner voice that can only be heard in the stillness.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Sexual Assault Exemplifies Human Tragedy
For a few days I have been digesting the frightening reality of the brutal sexual assault on Lara Logan that took place in Egypt recently.
As I listened to a local news anchor reporting this story, my first gut reaction was tears.
I cried for this young woman's pain and her traumatic journey to recovery that she must now endure.
I cried for all women everywhere. I cried for men. I cried for the human race.
I have watched this reporter on '60 minutes'. Her beautiful spirit shone through her professionalism.
She, along with too many women to count, is now scarred for the rest of her life. The scars may not be visible, but rather hidden, influencing her behaviour in perhaps subtle ways.
She is now a survivor of 'war'. Just as veterans suffer with post traumatic stress, she will be changed forever. Hopefully, she will learn to overcome the most debilitating of these after-effects.
Far too long in this world, women have been viewed as expendable objects.
Our struggle as women to become 'human beings' in the eyes of men, so that we could vote and have legal rights as they do, rather than be seen as their 'property', is well documented throughout history.
We have come far, especially in North America, yet have so much further to go.
Sometimes I fear we are our own worst enemies. Our competitiveness with one another at times overshadows our common human goal.
There are countless ways women undermine themselves by 'selling' themselves sexually in the media and in society.
"The oldest 'profession' in the world" is how prostitution is portrayed to attempt to justify its existence.
Women who 'buy' into this myth are perpetuating the very idea that female bodies are objects to be bought and sold, rather than celebrated and honoured.
Men who value women as the 'closest to God they will get here on earth', must be crying as well.
These men do not use or abuse, but rather respect and at times revere women. They embody the spirit of love.
The plight of women is highlighted when a high profile person is victimized.
I pray that with God's help Lara Logan will heal, enabling her to be a 'strong' voice in the future to affect positive change for us all.
The world will then be a little better place after this tragedy than before it.
As I listened to a local news anchor reporting this story, my first gut reaction was tears.
I cried for this young woman's pain and her traumatic journey to recovery that she must now endure.
I cried for all women everywhere. I cried for men. I cried for the human race.
I have watched this reporter on '60 minutes'. Her beautiful spirit shone through her professionalism.
She, along with too many women to count, is now scarred for the rest of her life. The scars may not be visible, but rather hidden, influencing her behaviour in perhaps subtle ways.
She is now a survivor of 'war'. Just as veterans suffer with post traumatic stress, she will be changed forever. Hopefully, she will learn to overcome the most debilitating of these after-effects.
Far too long in this world, women have been viewed as expendable objects.
Our struggle as women to become 'human beings' in the eyes of men, so that we could vote and have legal rights as they do, rather than be seen as their 'property', is well documented throughout history.
We have come far, especially in North America, yet have so much further to go.
Sometimes I fear we are our own worst enemies. Our competitiveness with one another at times overshadows our common human goal.
There are countless ways women undermine themselves by 'selling' themselves sexually in the media and in society.
"The oldest 'profession' in the world" is how prostitution is portrayed to attempt to justify its existence.
Women who 'buy' into this myth are perpetuating the very idea that female bodies are objects to be bought and sold, rather than celebrated and honoured.
Men who value women as the 'closest to God they will get here on earth', must be crying as well.
These men do not use or abuse, but rather respect and at times revere women. They embody the spirit of love.
The plight of women is highlighted when a high profile person is victimized.
I pray that with God's help Lara Logan will heal, enabling her to be a 'strong' voice in the future to affect positive change for us all.
The world will then be a little better place after this tragedy than before it.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Memories
Not eighteen months, one month shy, no more in fact. Nineteen now.
It actually took me a while to recall the exact number of months since my mother's death.
Must be a sign of healing.
I will remember the significance of the fifteenth each month of every year.
The number 15 is imprinted on my soul and in my mind and heart.
That date will be the one I set aside each month to honour my mother's memory.
Not that I don't think of her at other times.
She is a part of me and my daughters, my siblings, my nephews and nieces, and my grandnephew.
In each of them I see a different aspect of her.
In myself I feel her heartbeat.
Her eyes peer back at me every time I see my reflection and when I look into my eldest daughter's face.
Last summer in Vancouver I saw her in my elderly aunts, two of her sisters.
I enjoyed laughing and sharing with them while they appreciated my visits.
We ventured to some of their favourite spots, and now they are in my treasured memories along with my Mom.
I am very glad I made that trip when I did.
'Timing is everything'.
The eldest sister is now suffering with the after-effects of a fall which broke her hip just before Christmas. She will not be able to go home, as she requires nursing care.
I must call to keep abreast of her progress. There is a dread to do so, as I am not ready for more grief to bear.
As February 15th approaches each year, the day before will conjure memories of love in my childhood home, when my Dad would bring the largest, 'mushiest' valentine he could find to my Mom, along with red roses and chocolates we all could share.
Words of endearment and nicknames graced their cards to each other.
My Dad was a passionate man who showed his love for my mother.
He never needed reminding of important 'couple' dates as many men do.
I have so very many memories of happy, loving times as both a child and an adult.
As I move forward in my own life, many more memories are yet to be made
It actually took me a while to recall the exact number of months since my mother's death.
Must be a sign of healing.
I will remember the significance of the fifteenth each month of every year.
The number 15 is imprinted on my soul and in my mind and heart.
That date will be the one I set aside each month to honour my mother's memory.
Not that I don't think of her at other times.
She is a part of me and my daughters, my siblings, my nephews and nieces, and my grandnephew.
In each of them I see a different aspect of her.
In myself I feel her heartbeat.
Her eyes peer back at me every time I see my reflection and when I look into my eldest daughter's face.
Last summer in Vancouver I saw her in my elderly aunts, two of her sisters.
I enjoyed laughing and sharing with them while they appreciated my visits.
We ventured to some of their favourite spots, and now they are in my treasured memories along with my Mom.
I am very glad I made that trip when I did.
'Timing is everything'.
The eldest sister is now suffering with the after-effects of a fall which broke her hip just before Christmas. She will not be able to go home, as she requires nursing care.
I must call to keep abreast of her progress. There is a dread to do so, as I am not ready for more grief to bear.
As February 15th approaches each year, the day before will conjure memories of love in my childhood home, when my Dad would bring the largest, 'mushiest' valentine he could find to my Mom, along with red roses and chocolates we all could share.
Words of endearment and nicknames graced their cards to each other.
My Dad was a passionate man who showed his love for my mother.
He never needed reminding of important 'couple' dates as many men do.
I have so very many memories of happy, loving times as both a child and an adult.
As I move forward in my own life, many more memories are yet to be made
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Ten Thousand Strong in Toronto
Watching a sombre solid sea of blue, led by red RCMP, all marching proudly in our city, gave me pause.
The finest from across North America gathered in solidarity to honour one of their own.
During the ten thousand strong procession down University Avenue, the only sounds I heard were footsteps and hoofs on pavement.
The above freezing temperature today allowed drizzle to fall from gray sky.
A metaphor to weeping souls holding heads high.
Ryan Russell, a Toronto police sergeant, fallen in the line of duty while protecting our citizens, provided the opportunity for multitudes to join together at his funeral to pay tribute.
It is as if all of his comrades from sea to sea and south of our border, have given us all permission to grieve our human tragedy.
Not only this particular horrible loss, but also all of past devastating events.
Humanity needs this chance to grieve and heal in unison.
Seasoned journalists have stated that they have never seen anything like this before.
With all of the violent disasters occurring in our world, from both natural and human means, our souls crave comfort in the company of fellow beings.
Thank you and God bless us all.
The finest from across North America gathered in solidarity to honour one of their own.
During the ten thousand strong procession down University Avenue, the only sounds I heard were footsteps and hoofs on pavement.
The above freezing temperature today allowed drizzle to fall from gray sky.
A metaphor to weeping souls holding heads high.
Ryan Russell, a Toronto police sergeant, fallen in the line of duty while protecting our citizens, provided the opportunity for multitudes to join together at his funeral to pay tribute.
It is as if all of his comrades from sea to sea and south of our border, have given us all permission to grieve our human tragedy.
Not only this particular horrible loss, but also all of past devastating events.
Humanity needs this chance to grieve and heal in unison.
Seasoned journalists have stated that they have never seen anything like this before.
With all of the violent disasters occurring in our world, from both natural and human means, our souls crave comfort in the company of fellow beings.
Thank you and God bless us all.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Roots Unfold
Eighteen months Mom, and the first one of 2011 without you here.
Another Saturday blizzard outside my window.
I would rather be watching and writing than walking today.
Now that a new year has dawned, I am seriously searching for my earthly 'home'.
Recently, an acquaintance suggested the reason I enjoy being among trees is that I want 'roots'.
Not long ago, another individual queried of me if I live for my 'children'.
I know I would die for them.
I prefer to think I live for myself, not anyone else, although I would enjoy a partner to share this life.
Some of my most memorable and happy times occurred when I was part of a couple with children.
It is feasible that just as my ancestors are my genetic 'roots', my daughters are as well.
They do 'ground' me on this earthly planet.
It is a wonderful feeling to be appreciated by them. That I know.
Now that the astrological signs are in jeopardy of shifting along with the 'magnetic' pole, even my 'air' status might turn to 'earth' !!
Although many astronomers and astrologers seem to concur that the 'signs' will remain as they are. Their readings might be adjusted. That is all.
When I try to make things happen 'my' way, I seem to end where I began, and the dance starts all over again.
The dizziness of it throws me off balance.
Little wonder I feel the need for 'roots'.
With patience, as my life unfolds I will know where I belong.
Another Saturday blizzard outside my window.
I would rather be watching and writing than walking today.
Now that a new year has dawned, I am seriously searching for my earthly 'home'.
Recently, an acquaintance suggested the reason I enjoy being among trees is that I want 'roots'.
Not long ago, another individual queried of me if I live for my 'children'.
I know I would die for them.
I prefer to think I live for myself, not anyone else, although I would enjoy a partner to share this life.
Some of my most memorable and happy times occurred when I was part of a couple with children.
It is feasible that just as my ancestors are my genetic 'roots', my daughters are as well.
They do 'ground' me on this earthly planet.
It is a wonderful feeling to be appreciated by them. That I know.
Now that the astrological signs are in jeopardy of shifting along with the 'magnetic' pole, even my 'air' status might turn to 'earth' !!
Although many astronomers and astrologers seem to concur that the 'signs' will remain as they are. Their readings might be adjusted. That is all.
When I try to make things happen 'my' way, I seem to end where I began, and the dance starts all over again.
The dizziness of it throws me off balance.
Little wonder I feel the need for 'roots'.
With patience, as my life unfolds I will know where I belong.
Monday, January 10, 2011
World Grief
Born on 9/11, nine year old Christina no longer graces this planet, along with several others who lost their lives to violence this past Saturday.
While I was viewing a blizzard of snow from my 'sunroom', the unspeakable horror of unstoppable gunfire, along with heroism, was unfolding in Arizona.
I am told that America is in mourning today. Anyone in the world who values the sanctity of life is grieving as well.
We are all connected in this universe. The actions of one or two influence the world in unseen ways.
Negative actions are publicized more than positive thoughts.
When inexplicable acts are perpetrated by 'seemingly normal-looking' people, we can only look inward to find the 'peace' that these individuals were obviously lacking.
It is inside our spiritual core that we will find the 'light' of love and the strength of hope and faith to carry on when 'worldly' craziness surrounds us .
While I was viewing a blizzard of snow from my 'sunroom', the unspeakable horror of unstoppable gunfire, along with heroism, was unfolding in Arizona.
I am told that America is in mourning today. Anyone in the world who values the sanctity of life is grieving as well.
We are all connected in this universe. The actions of one or two influence the world in unseen ways.
Negative actions are publicized more than positive thoughts.
When inexplicable acts are perpetrated by 'seemingly normal-looking' people, we can only look inward to find the 'peace' that these individuals were obviously lacking.
It is inside our spiritual core that we will find the 'light' of love and the strength of hope and faith to carry on when 'worldly' craziness surrounds us .
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