Reflections

Kites to boats

The children’s choir is learning a song about the moon kite from Malaysia. I had prepared an outline of the moon kite and encouraged the children to colour it, and perhaps search for examples on Google for colourful ideas. Last week one of my 7 year old singers brought me this lovely origami boat. He said that he was searching for moon kites and found a video on how to make origami boats.

At first I puzzled as to how a search for a moon kite would end up with this young singer folding an origami boat for me, but then I thought about my searches. How often do I open up my computer to find information on a topic, and end up discovering something totally different?

Knowing this child, I am sure he studied each new discovery carefully before venturing on to the next. Perhaps this week he will go back to the original search and find an example of a moon kite. Or maybe he will go down another totally different path.

Are my searches, and journeys in life, more like meandering through a labyrinth, or like going down the rabbit hole?

Breakwater chat

Normally I start walking, and just follow my feet, or take the direction with the fewest number of people, but today I had a strong desire to revisit the breakwater. Toffee used to take me there frequently on our walks. He loved to go in the direction of the ocean, and I usually followed his lead. I haven’t to the breakwater since before Toffee died.

It was early so there weren’t people out walking yet. I came upon a gentleman who was walking slowly and steadily using his walker. We exchanged a few pleasant comments about the weather, then I wished him a good day and kept walking to the lighthouse at the far end of the breakwater.

On my way back I stopped to chat further with this man. He told me that he walked on the breakwater every morning, just as he and his wife had done for decades. She passed away 6 months ago. “We had a very good life together,” he said with a smile. We talked about summers that they spent in Kaslo, near the town where I grew up. As we said good-bye, he stated that “life is good. There are always new adventures, new things to experience.”

Hands of Time

Thanksgiving morning I decided to go for a long walk. I had no meetings or work scheduled, so the only thing limiting my time was my bladder. I followed my feet, and ended up walking along the shoreline on the far side of the harbour.

Abby was irresistibly cute. She was trying so hard to be an obedient Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, but friendly excitement and obedience are often polar opposites! We became quick friends, and her owner was eager to engage in conversation. She told me about the sun lighting up a huge sculpture further west. I told her about my recent discovery about the “Golden hour”. She asked me if I had seen “The Hands of Time” sculpture. I said that I had never heard of it. Although this lady knew there must be other sculptures, the hands carving the canoe paddle was the only one that she had seen.

We back-tracked several meters and climbed some rocks and saw this amazing sculpture. Of course I had to do some research, and discovered that in 2012, an artist was commissioned to create artwork as a way to celebrate the 150 year anniversary of the city.

The Hands of Time consists of 12 bronze sculptures that depict life-size hands, varying in age, culture and gender, but engaged in activities symbolic of Victoria’s past. They were installed in the spring of 2013.
(James Bay Beacon, 2016)

This week I have been on a mission to find all 12 sculptures. In what has turned out to be a bit of scavenger hunt, I have given myself motivation to get out walking every day. So far I have discovered 10, and intend to find the other two in the days or weeks ahead.

What was really very special about that day was finding joy in sharing and learning from a complete stranger.

Lurking

It was a simple question, but I was unable to answer. It took all my strength to compose myself and still there was no way I could bring myself to voice his name.

I have worked to erase him from my memory for years. Thanksgiving weekend, 21 years ago we were able to escape and venture out on our own, to live in a cute little 100 year old home. My children and I celebrated that Thanksgiving with sincere thanks, enjoying peace and quiet, feasting in safety on a Rotisserie chicken from Safeway.

He tore my life apart, preying on me and my children when we were most vulnerable. There are parts of us that none of us will ever be able to get back, and trust and innocence that is gone forever.

Many months after we moved out my girls quietly went through all our old photos, tearing his head out of each one of them. Sometime after they finished tossing his images, I threw all the photos out. I wish it could be that simple. I wish the memories and horrors could be thrown out like trash.

We moved away from that town, started a new life, made friends, and each day I hoped that by ignoring my feelings and getting super busy with life and work, that the memories and feelings would go away.

Well, that didn’t work. When I’m least prepared, and also when I am as prepared as I can be to block them, something triggers those awful memories. They seem to be lurking deep down inside just waiting for an unguarded moment.

My Story

The quote below says a lot. (I was surprised to find that the credit for this quote goes to Harley Davidson, but after some research I have found that many positive, encouraging quotes and sayings are credited to the Harley Davidson company.)

Did you ever watch the movie, “The Runaway Bride”? Maggie (Julia Roberts) reveals that her choice of breakfast eggs changes with each relationship. She doesn’t even know what she prefers, but always answers according to the taste of her current lover.

I began paying attention to that concept in some of my previous relationships, realizing that it is important to stay true to myself. The quickest way to get me to end a relationship is to start telling me what I want, what I need to change! So, right now I’m single, and figuring out the next chapters in my story….holding my own pen.

“When writing the story of your life, don’t let anyone else hold the pen.”
Harley Davidson quote

Waiting for life to begin

On my way home the other day, I asked myself, “Why are you still waiting for life to begin?” I had no answer.

Tidy piles of notepads, greeting cards, sketch pads and boxes of pens and pencils are stored in many cupboards and on shelves around the house. Blank sheets of manuscript paper are waiting for me to transcribe those melodies and songs that keep churning around in my head. They are waiting for the day when my life is in order, and I can start doing what I imagined I would be doing as an adult. Instead, one urgent project after another fills every minute of my days.

This is the year I am working on semi-retiring, whatever that means. So far it has involved a major shift from working 12 hour days to actual work only 2-5 hours a day, but still no time to really start living.

I can blame the pandemic, and my hesitancy to get out and face crowds of people, but someday I’ll have to admit that what started out as a 2-week or 2-month inconvenience has grown into 2 1/2 years of uncertainty, and it is not just going to magically go away.

How much longer will I be waiting for my real life to begin?

Labyrinth

This labyrinth was designed and planted in 2013 when I worked at this church. The lovely hibiscus, Rose of Sharon, in the centre behind the labyrinth was moved from the front entrance and is now thriving. Even though the place is now quite secluded and quiet, when I still lived there it was wide open and visible from the street. For that reason, I never walked it.

“A structure with many connected paths or passages in which it is hard to find your way” is one definition. But now labyrinths like this in the photo are created for meditation and a way for spiritual renewal, rather than traps for catching monsters and evil spirits as in the ancient days.

There is a labyrinth near where I live now. I have not walked it, nor even really looked at it closely. The thought of trying to do something for spiritual renewal while random strangers watch is not appealing to me.

But more than that, simply quieting my mind for more than a few seconds is not easy.

Several years ago I played for many Taize services at a church. For one hour a few people gathered, listened to a short reading, sang chant-like choruses over and over, and spent time in silence. It was part of my job — if it wasn’t I probably would not have continued to attend.

…my stomach is growling…can they hear it?….that’s so embarrassing…does he just breathe heavily, or is he asleep…how many more minutes?…should I start playing again?…no, it’s not time…what should I get for dinner?…yes, I’m so hungry, my stomach is getting louder…

My father attended the Taize service once. He told me that it was a very strange hour, and not something he would try again. Although he was a very quiet man, sitting still and not feeling that he had accomplished anything felt like wasted time. For someone raised to always be doing something, I agreed with him. At least I did 9 years ago.

Maybe it’s time to try again to quiet my mind.

Breathing after Fiona

“All good!” was the message from my daughter early this morning. With tears starting to form after hearing this welcome news, I took a deep breath. It felt like it been hours since I had taken a deep breath.

She and her fiancé have survived post-hurricane Fiona only a few weeks after moving to the east coast. The storm isn’t over yet, but they made it through the night. They have avoided telling me about the damage outside. The scenarios playing through my mind all night are hopefully not true. In my mind all the trees had toppled because of all the rain and strong winds. I’ll wait to hear the details when the storm has passed through later today.

Neighbours brought over a care package of hot coffee and treats; others checked in via text message. This is the way people used to be in the old days—taking care of each other, and welcoming practical strangers into their homes and lives. I am thankful that my baby chose to live in that small community where people are so kind.

That should be enough to stop the high level of anxiety and worry that a mother feels. Maybe someday I’ll learn to trust that my children will be okay even when they move so far away. And I’ll be able to breathe even while waiting for the news.

Dad’s roses

After years of working long hours 12 months each year, my father retired at a relatively young age. He was 55 when my brother was diagnosed with terminal cancer, and decided to retire in order to spend more time with my brother, and with mom.

My mother struggled so much after losing her son to cancer at the young age of 27. She basically stopped living, and never recovered the energy that she once had. Dad then took over the responsibility of everything that mom could no longer do — gardening, Christmas celebration, birthday celebrations, engaging with the rest of us. For over 30 years he lovingly took care of mom, worked full-time volunteering, and continued to learn.

One of dad’s new passions was growing roses. He wanted to do it right, and knew that he didn’t have any expertise in gardening, so he signed up for a workshop on growing roses.

Dad’s last visit 2 months before he died. We spent some time in the rose gardens at the Legislature buildings.

A few days ago I arrived at my mom’s house to give my sister a week break from caring for mom. Tending the garden is a way I can get outside while still allowing mom to see that she is not alone. I try to remember the instructions that my father had passed on to me about how and where to cut the stems to stop the rose bushes from growing wild and I definitely would benefit from a refresher course!

These two roses pictured above were hiding behind others already in full bloom, but somehow they jumped out at me. They are another way to remind mom of the care and love of dad.

10 minutes of gratitude

Spend 10 minutes writing down things you are grateful for.

(suggestion from Inner Pathways Counselling)

Sunsets
Clouds
Children
My family
Friends
Gardens
a friendly smile from a stranger
music to help me through the difficult days
good food
coffee in the morning
life’s experiences
memories
Mountains
Birds singing

curiousity
family video calls
safety
freedom
health
ability to learn
fresh, clean air
clean, running water
warm showers
electricity
mobility
intelligence