Hit the Pause Button

As I do my part and stay home during this global COVID pandemic I'm reading alot from a variety of sources and making my own conclusions as a sovereign being on this planet.

Regardless what my, or anyone else's view is - was is it a bat that started this virus? was it planned? Isolate the population or herd immunity? In the big picture, does it really matter? Here we are and what'll you do with this time. Could be a curse or a gift. I'm choosing to look at the wonderful things happening from the Universe hitting the Pause button on humanity.

Fantastic things are happening. I believe the animals are rejoicing. Or perhaps they don't even notice because they're not focused on us! And mother earth is getting a much-needed deep breath as our air clears and the hum of human bees is silenced. Sitting outside is magnificent. I hear the stillness only interrupted by a myriad of bird song - and the odd neighbour mowing their lawn.

I see kindness and compassion for those who's lives have been up-ended. People becoming aware and looking out for each other on a mass scale. The whole world is in this - they are no different than I. As a collective, our hearts are opening.

My heart goes out to those who have had their worlds rocked, not just by covid but by natural disasters, family illness, accidents and life itself that continues daily. Our challenges bring us opportunities to experience being a human on this planet. It's just not always pretty but inevitably shows the preciousness of life itself.

I've been fortunate as there's been little disruption in my life, and what has been disrupted is good. The isolation has meant I'm doing my job from the comfort of my sanctuary. I've been wanting a change but didn't see it coming this way. I'm grateful for the opportunity to test the waters. Not having to continuously rush, it's so much easier to settle into the Now as it really doesn't matter what day or what time it is.

I feel more peaceful inside amidst the external chaos.

And maybe that's the takeaway. Practice living now. Enjoy those around you, reach out to others. Be kind. Breathe in the air and relish existence.

Hello 2020

In anticipation of the new year I'm finding myself affected in a profound way. Maybe because of the numeric aspect, afterall my number is 22 - not necessarily lucky, more like significant. And in terms of numerology 2020 is 22. I'm trusting in the Universe for significant and beyond...

And the number sounds so futuristic for a gal born in the 1960s. Weren't we supposed to be flying around like the Jetson's by now? 

But it's on a grander scale. It's more an aging thing. And what a gift it truly is to age.

The first few years after 50 were uncomfortable. I resisted being what I perceived as old. Things - specifically my body shape - were changing. Ugh! Gravity is a bitch but thankfully menopause ends... 

Now on the downside to 60, I feel differently and I'm grateful for every year that number grows. Beyond my own experiences, I've watched many struggle and suffer with aches, pains, illnesses and death within families, friends. The paradox of that sorrow is through that grief I have been able to find joy and gratitude in simply being alive.

Everything is precious and time is a commodity that not even the rich can buy However they can purchase regenerative IV treatments. How do you think the Royal family is so long lived? I've found balance. My sense of humour has improved. Why take it all so seriously? Yet another paradox - the things that should be taken seriously are. Soul has replaced many aspects of ego and the need to be right. okay, still working on that...  I'm learning to be truly present, understand what love really is and take great delight in observing life happen. It's a magnificent unfolding story.

I told my grandson I wanted to be at his 50th birthday party. That would make me 99. Game on!

It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighbourhood

It's Saturday. I'm home and loving it. Working the grind, the Monday to Friday slavitude, can be tiring so I'm grateful to be able to allow my day to unfold with the rhythm of my heart.

I have a few errands to run and I like to get out and take care of business so I can hunker down at home for the afternoon. Plus I'm outta weed...

Being a list person, I make a plan. Bank, groceries, dispensary. I live in a smallish city so I'm fortunate that the 3 stops will get me back home in just over an hour. I love the area where I've spent the lion's share of my 55 years on the planet. My first stop at the bank is to open an RRSP account so I can lessen the amount of tax I seem to owe the government every year in spite of the thousands I've already handed over. I'd rather do that and get the deduction and keep my money rather than having more tax taken off my diminishing pay cheque. The process is easy - the bank teller is knowledgeable and asks me all the right questions to ensure I'm opening the right kind of account. Within 15 minutes I'm done and onto the next stop. Woohoo.

Begin a vegan can be a bit challenging for groceries. There are 3 stores within my area that supply the foods I eat and I know where to go for the cheapest price for the various products. Today I'm stopping at Whole Foods, an absolutely beautiful shopping experience. The energy in this store generated from the fresh organic foods and generally happy people make it a high vibrational atmosphere.

My last stop is the dispensary. I'm not a drinker (I'd fill a few blogs to explain why... lol) but I do enjoy a puff. I'm grateful for the convenience and guidance a dispensary provides. I'm not advocating chronic smoking however it beats the hell outta meeting some teenager in an alley. If I can go to a liquor store to buy booze, why can't I purchase a mind-altering substance of a different kind in a regulated manner. That's a whole other argument which seems to be playing out and moving forward.

I'm a member at Trees - a premier dispensary in our area. As the legalities get worked out in Canada, Trees is positioning themselves to be a frontrunner in the distribution following all current laws, displaying proper permits, well-paid knowledgeable staff, and environmentally-conscious. They even have a recycling program for their packaging giving 10% off when you bring back the plastic sleeves.

There's no other customers when I arrive so I start chatting with the two fellas behind the counter both of whom I've seen several times before. They're upbeat and talking about how spectacular their walk to work was this morning and how it's Spring and the birds are back. I'm delighted that these 'young guys' are in tune with nature (though they're probably late 20s-30ish). The one guy starts talking about his experience living in Edmonton where the magpies responded to him playing his didgeridoo. He made friends with them and they mimicked each other's sounds back and forth. They noticed his routine and would wait for him to come home from work and play with them. After a few months he had up to sixty birds singing with him. He said he loved communicating with birds and knew several different calls, and proceeded to perform them. It was a magical exchange and it filled my heart. Beautiful people. I have faith that all will be well in this world with the millenials. I finished my transaction and was about to leave when the guy with the dreadlocks (it is a dispensary after all...) told me to hold on. He went over to a jar and grabbed a pre-rolled J, handed it to me and said thanks for chatting with us. My heart wells. He goes on to say what a great customer I am, always happy and smiling when I come in and they're genuinely glad to see me. I'm moved to tears by the kind words and the gesture. Ahhh you're gonna make me cry, I say. All three guys in the store then say goodbye calling me by my name.

I walk out to my vehicle feeling so blissful in my world. Grateful to be alive and surrounded by beautiful souls.

However it does occur to me when you're on a first name basis with the weed guys I might be too good of a customer!

Happy 420

I am a Grown-Up

A few weeks ago my son fixed up my bike for me. I've got a somewhat derelict of a two-wheeler complete with fenders and a rat-trap though the upper hinge portion is long gone (that's why they invented bungi cords!).  Originally I borrowed the bike from a co-worker who's ex-wife had left it behind. That was over 8 years ago and that machine just morphed into mine. The memory foam seat is well worn with my butt impression.

L'il Black, as I fondly call her, was dormant for a few years. She stayed at my mother's place 2 hours north of my home for 2 years as I didn't have a vehicle to bring her back. I finally did and again she sat...

My son (handsome and handy) pumped up the tires, oiled & adjusted the chain, tightened the spokes and checked the brake cables. I was off.

I had forgotten the utter sense of freedom and joy my soul felt gliding along the pathways. I was elated. I'd found a place where I paradoxically lost myself in how alive I was.

L'il Black and I have subsequently spent many hours together exploring the extensive trail system in the beautiful city where I reside. My goal, for years now, has been to cycle to work roughly 10 km into the city about 35 minutes along the scenic cycling route sans car traffic. A rejuvenating ride indeed.

Last weekend I thought I'd explore one of the other cycle routes and headed north with 3 water bottles strapped to the rack on the back fender. I had my bike helmet on the handle bars...  here's where the disconnect between me and other people begins... In our area it is a law (of sorts) to wear a helmet. I do not like to wear a helmet, or a hat of any kind really. Not just cause it wrecks my hair but it's not comfortable, I get hot, yada, yada, yada. Basically I hate stuff on my head.

So I'm blissfully riding along a trail. A pack of riders pass by me decked out in spandex gear and aerodynamic helmets complete with the fancy shoes that fit in the toe clips. All male and from what I can tell roughly my age group (50+). One of the jackaroos chuckles to his buddy as he passes by "good place for the helmet".  I realize it's meant for me and my ego bubbles up and I holler "thanks for your comments". I am incensed. The group veers off to a coffee house and I continue along the bike path playing the interaction over and over again in my mind wishing I'd thought of some wittier response or even the ego's favourite... fuck off! For the next 15 minutes I can't quell the voice and I ride harder in an effort to switch my focus and release the energy.

Why does his comment irritate me so deeply?  This is why:

I am a Grown-Up. 

To refine it further I am a sovereign being fully capable of assessing a situation and taking appropriate action to ensure my safety.

I'm fed up with the North American attitude of safety-ing ourselves to death in an effort to circumvent any possibility of something not nice happening.  Don't get me wrong, just as the saying goes there is a time and a place, similarly where there is a need measures will be taken.

I've successfully ridden a bike for over 50 years and will continue to enjoy the breeze in my hair as I connect with myself and my world on my faithful steed.

Hello said a small voice

I got home today, sat down at my beloved HP window to the world, and my gmail was open to a facebook notification from last April.

What the what?  How does my email open itself up?

Last spring I took an online writing course. It was wonderful. However I'm shy at my core (some people find that one hard to believe) and wasn't much at the participation aspect of the course.

I finally got brave and wrote a little ditty to post on the class wall and the instructor commented. And that's what email my computer met me with this afternoon.

I haven’t written in months and perhaps this was a nudge to blog?  I don’t know. But here it is.

Spirit you are so cool...

Hello said a small voice from the back.

Slowly they turned, expecting to see someone but what they saw was a golden light emanating from a spot on the ground. It grew and as the light grew so did the sound. But it wasn’t words… it was music, like a choir singing, or was it?
No one really knew. What they did know was how they felt.
Warm and joyful. Elated and content at the same time. Smiles formed on their faces as tears welled in their eyes. Held in this space for an immeasurable length of time, seemingly cradled in an energetic bubble of love.
As quickly as it started, the sound silenced and the light dimmed, and they could see her.
You came they said.
Yes said the small voice, I found you all.

I do belong. 

The Necessity of Sadness

I recently read a blog of my all-time favouritest writer ever Jenny Lawson aka The Bloggess. And she is.
http://thebloggess.com/2016/05/31/sometimes-the-darkness-can-be-beautiful-but-sometimes-its-a-real-bitch-depends-i-guess/
I love her bold, brave honesty; she writes succinctly - with humour - about depression, darkness and the shadows. So many of us deal with situations, stress and emotions that qualify our participation in those categories whether we are awake to it or not.

Hi Jenny,
You don't know me ... yet  hehehe (in a good way of course)

I love you. Thank you for being so courageous and sharing your experiences which ultimately helps the masses and that, my Spiritual Warrior Sister, whether you know you are or not, is raising consciousness on this fabulous planet we live on.

Bless you.

This is a drawing by Jenny as well.
She reeks of creativity!

My own spiritual journey - amplified over the past 4 years - has led me to understand more deeply the nature of reality and this earthwalk we humans are on. A big part in how one weathers the experience is acceptance and letting go of things (people, experiences, behaviours). Two simple statements but complex at the root and takes much practice to alter the programming we've worn for as long as we can remember.

Although we can't make the darkness go away - it's a necessary component of the equation - by learning and understanding What's Really Going On (aka consciousness) it somehow it makes it just a little easier to ride out the waves, relax and enjoy the ride!

So if you want to explore What's Really Going On, The Untethered Soul is an awesome book. Only 180 pages, short chapters, easy to comprehend. Super cool concepts about this human experience.

And Jenny. Read Jenny Lawson's blog The Bloggess  (link above).
She's not about consciousness per se, just Real and damn funny.

You'll love her too.

Save the Apples

I have a fabulously abundant apple tree in my backyard. And it's old too. You can tell by the bark (no offense to those humans over 50 like me cause pretty much you can tell a human is old by their bark).
Each summer I give a couple of boxes of apples to the food bank and that makes me feel really good. I have an incredible peach tree too that I share the bounty with the neighbour who works at a seniors home. He says they like fresh fruit with their breakfast. That makes me feel really good too and I could go on about how important it is for seniors to have fresh fruit however this blog is about saving the apples.

Under the apple tree is a rock patio. I don't want to call it a gravel patio as the rock I picked out is much prettier than gravel. More ovally stones in brown and white tones... and much easier on bare feet - gravel can really hurt! Anyway as the apples ripen, they regularly fall off the tree either from the squirrels running amuk amidst the branches or the occasional blustery day. The problem is when the apples hit the ground from 20 ft up they're bruised, split and non-edible. And they're perfectly good apples or at least were. I hate to see such bounty go to waste especially when there's people who would love to be chowing down on an apple. Serve the masses healthy food I say! Let's be honest, humanity would be a lot better off if we all stopped consuming hordes of crap.

I've tried a number of gimmicks including draping netting between a few chairs to catch the apples. My son took a pic and sent it to his siblings so they could all laugh at their crazy mother. And I did save a number of apples; made navigating around my backyard treacherous though.

So I come home from work today and find my son working on his car in the driveway. We chat for a bit and my gaze is drawn to a handful of bruised apples strewn about the rocks.

Me   I have a new plan, I announce.
The boy   Better than the chairs and the netting?
Me   I know you guys laughed at me.
The boy   At least it wasn't to your face.
Me   My new plan, I pause, is to lay some foam pads on the ground so when the apples drop they won't bruise.
I remind him about feeding the homeless.
The boy   Mom, he says in his most understanding voice, I don't think our backyard would look that great with a bunch of foam pads covering the patio.
Me   It wouldn't be for long I say. Just a month or so...
The boy   I have a better idea.
And my eldest child unveils a brilliant scheme.
The boy   Move the trampoline under the tree. It has a net around it too so they won't bounce off.
Mom, we can Save the Apples.

Love that boy.