Lost & Found

Lost and found. When was the last time you lost something valuable to you? I'm not talking about misplacing keys or your credit card, although these can be anxiety inducing events, I'm talking about something precious and irreplaceable. The feeling of dis ease, the sinking feeling that the lost item may be gone forever, it causes a restlessness that is disquieting and persistent, like a dull tooth or headache, not debilitating however near impossible to ignore. The practice of retracing steps, going back in time to the last time you and your item were in the same place, this sometimes works to retrieve the item from lost and place it back into the found category. When searching there may be attached a feeling of desperation, as in what will I do without this item, I miss it and want it back and I cannot rest until I find it. Separation anxiety ensues and there is a heightened feeling of despair when the search is fruitless and reunion appears to be out of reach. As time goes by, you think of the item and the loss and while you have survived without it, there is still a sadness and longing for the item when it crosses your mind that it is gone, forever. Sigh...the same feeling happens when the soul slips unnoticed into the lost category and no search party is sent to retrieve it. The ache is dull and may not demand our full attention and yet it is real and worthy of search and rescue, far more so than any material item could ever be. What if there is a search and rescue team, looking for you, calling you home, wanting you to know that you are the precious one, the apple of someone's eye, that there is unrest until you feel found, until the team holds you securely in their arms? This is Grace, and it is Amazing. 

Blurry Vision

Today I went to the pond. It is a place I go to pray and meditate after a good workout at the gym. I go to the gym to take the edge off, it clears my mind and is like prep work for my soul. Between the gym and the pond, there is a roadway and as I walk from one to the other, I like to practice my balance abilities by tight rope like walking on top of a curb. Two weekends ago I got some exceptional coaching from a friend and she mentioned a tight rope image that appeared as we spoke. There it was, a glaringly obvious representation of the struggle I had been having, the doing and the being part of my existence. I live in my body and yet, without my soul getting the love and attention it needs, there is really no point to being here. This relestness is always an indication to me that I am out of balance and must recalibrate. Time is short and my attention seems to be leaving off from interest in distractions...the question I heard posed recently is "is what I'm doing an investment in my soul?". I watched today, at the end of my mediatation, a seagull as he took flight. He flew in the direction of the sun and I could not follow him with my eyes and I wondered, how can he fly in that direction and still see? As I looked down, I saw on the pond, the reflection of a bird in flight and I followed this blurred watery version of the real thing until he landed...maybe my eyes have been on what isn't real for a long time, maybe my vision has been blurred and maybe now I know the difference between real and fuzzy pseudo...The Light, it shines Truth on all things, including blurry vision. This ones for you Allyson Woodrooffe, love Linda

Dancing Eyes

Laughter. It is so underrated by some. Listen to the conversations around you, the seriousness of tone, the heaviness of presence, the lack of inclination to go towards the Light. Last night I was in exceptional company, with lots of laughter. The personalities in the room were large and each person gathered had their own brand of wit. There was something spectacular about the interplay in the group and the eruption into laughter or in one instance, a sardonic grin with a small chuckle that spread like wildfire, one stick person at a time until we were all laughing. This morning, I recall the feeling and I have laughed out loud countless times already today. World peace? It ain't gonna happen and when it does, it will be a sign of the beginning of the end of this life as we know it. I remember a line from Voltaire "God is playing to an audience that is afraid to laugh"...ah, how true this is. If God likes to play and laugh, and I believe this to be true, than perhaps taking ourselves too seriously is part of the joke? Laugh a little, cry a little, laugh while you are crying, there is room for all of this and so much more. I like to look for signs of life, signs of laughter in eyes, that's when I know that I am in good company. Dancing eyes never lie. 

No. On a train ride to Toronto last weekend I had the pleasure of being seated next to a near 90 year old woman. We spoke of many things and at one point I asked "to what do you attribute your longevity." Her reply was the word no and she explained "there is one extra letter in yes compared to no. If you say no you can always say yes later...yes is a commitment". The same adage applies to salt, you can't take it out after you have added too much...it could ruin a meal. This makes me think of the no that comes repeatedly and vehemently from human two year olds as they assert themselves when adults attempt to impose upon them. It goes something like "eat your peas, they are good for you". This is the beginning of the breaking of the word and will behind the word no. We are creatures of conformity, not naturally, no is far more natural than yes, it happens gradually to please another, and symptoms of pain, disease, depression, physical ailments and long suffering insecurities are the evidence of having said yes when what we really wanted to say is NO. In coaching, there is an introduction to the concept of no, imagine, having to teach others this God given right, in a free country? Biblically, Matthew 5:37 tells us "But let your statement be, 'Yes, yes' or 'No, no', anything beyond these is of evil." How many times has yes gotta YOU into trouble? 

Cockroaches

Scurrying into darkness

Cockroaches are defined as: any numerous chiefly nocturnal insects; some are domestic pests

The word cockroach curls my lip; the thought of even a one, makes me feel disgust. The thought of a room full makes me uneasy and queasy. I know that when bright light enters a dark cockroach infested room, they scuttle and scurry to find the cover of darkness, where they can again feel at ease to do whatever it is cockroaches do.

All manner of human hidden things are like cockroaches

This brings me to lies: lies of omission, manipulation, rationalization, gossip, and all manner of human hidden things that are like cockroaches of the soul, dark and ugly, hidden from sight with insidiousness as their companion of doom and gloom. 

The lies seem to serve: sometimes they are told for the purpose of stolen pleasure, justification for speaking cruelty out of a sense of selfishness and entitlement, or perhaps, jealousy? You name it, we all have our masquerading "reasons"  for allowing cockroaches, the pleasures of the flesh, into our lives. Temporary pleasure is the allure, and giving into the pleasure means that we compromise our integrity and walk with hidden guilt and soul crushing shame. You may be able to hide the truth from others but you and I, we can never fully escape the knowing that niggles at our being, the one that says, "You, I see you and what you have done: I will make you feel dis ease until you speak the truth out loud."

Truth kills pestilence with The Light

Then, there is the light, the dawning of day. As light splinters across the floor in intensity growing rays, the cockroaches flee, perhaps as gradually as the light rays appear? a withdrawal for fear of being seen. They are creatures of the night. The light scatters them and they must find darkened corners and cracks for protection.

Lies are like this, they cannot stand the Light nor can they survive it. Truth makes us free, and kills the pestilence that causes soul infection. 

Far worse...

On Sept 10th my husband and I sat in our basement, feet away from the furnace room that also houses the sump pump. My husband followed his instincts and asked me to check the room, he could hear the pump working overtime and with the storm outside, a flood was a possibility. The sump pump was spewing water joined by the drain, and water began filling the finished living area. I write with joy in my heart because we had the precious gift of time. As a family, we began moving our furniture and other items out of the way as the water poured in filling up the carpet and walls. A quick call to our insurance company TD Meloche Monnex, yielded an equally quick response and we had a restoration crew here within hours of the event, vacuuming out the water logged carpets and installing fans to dry the wet, and the storm, it stopped, giving us a reprieve. No sign of wreckage is evident from the outside of our home since damaged carpet and walls were removed from our driveway, as though it had never happened, the flood I mean. Others in my neighbourhood have not faired as well and each time I pass their homes with the debris piled high I am reminded to be grateful, to have compassion for the plight of others, to remain faithful and trusting that this to shall pass and there are far worse situations than a minor flood that our insurance miraculously has completely covered...I pray for those who are in true peril, whose lives are in jeopardy from evil forces or illness, God be with them this day. 

Drained & Flooded

In August I attended part two of a four part Leadership program. On the last day of the retreat, I was assigned to the Water Pod. Upon my return home, I learned that our pool had drained itself of water. I didn't know it at the time, that this draining was a metaphor, a foreshadowing of what was to come. On retreat, I got filled up and my re entry into family, friends and the familiar of life appeared smooth at first and than I saw it, the pain everywhere, in the bodies, minds, eyes of those around me. A sense of overwhelm hit and I scrambled in my heart with what I could do to allievate the pain, be a resource for the suffering, make myself available for their refilling, healing, heart wholeness. This is when it happened, the slow and steady draining of me, emptied out as a drink offering. In church, I heard about the importance of being filled up in order to be poured out, there must be this balance between the two. In coaching, everyone is naturally creative resourceful and whole~taking care of self is essential to be an effective coach, taking care of others is discouraged in favour of knowing that each of us has the internal strength to tap into (yes, water metaphors abound) for our own well being, the coach guides the client to the well, for the fullness of their being. This week, the flood gates opened and many homes on my street and in the city got their fill, sewer systems overloaded and basements taking on the excess water...oddly enough, as our basement filled with water our pool refilled and the water has remained. Remaining buoyant is the exciting challenge and my natural response. It does not require huge effort on my part to stay uplifted in times of difficulty in fact I thanked God for the blessing of the flood, His plan is always perfect. The crack in my foundation showed up yesterday and I flooded myself with a short lived pity party, a little too much alcohol and quite the headache this morning. Lesson? While I know everything happens for a reason, I must give myself permission to acknowledge that some things are a real pain in the butt, that emptied pools cost money and flooded basements interrupt business and life and I'm not completely ok with it. Even Jesus cried over the death of his good friend Lazarus, knowing that it caused loved ones pain and also knowing that He would raise Lazarus from the dead. It would be a lie to pretend that the disruption isn't disruptive, because it is and yet, I'm still okay, alive and well and awaiting what is next in the way of metaphors and their playful sometimes painful way of teaching me, teaching me many a lesson. Drained, filled up, blessed always, I float on the Lilly Pad of life and grin with anticipation of next. I dedicate this to my fellow Water Lillies, Resilient Gina, Effervescent Jane, Huge Hearted E'Stephie, and Smiley go get em and win em over Marcy! Ribbit 

Hearts & Factory Settings

Returning hearts to their factory setting. I love children, dogs and the elderly, because when left to their own devices, their natural inclinations, they are completely 100% themselves. Kids have huge hearts, they see and know things based on observation and instinct and when they trust someone, it is with abandon. Dogs are the same, the love is real and forthcoming and so is the honest to goodness reaction they have when threatened and sensing danger. The elderly, when free, don't really give a damn about offending, they have paid their dues and tell "it" like "it" is so to speak, a brand of honesty that can be trusted. I'm in the in between of life, a child no more and while I feel no where near to being elderly, I do like and enjoy the options available to both age groups and I live them, daily, more and more. My work on this earth is to be a soul tour guide, to be with others as they find their way home, back to their heart and their original factory setting. I have found my heart on my return trip home and it is glorious. The path I travel has room for more, I welcome fellow travellers.

Touch With Your Eyes

Oh, how I wanted to touch

Touch with your eyes: this message was neatedly typed and posted on little stands in front of magnificent art on display in a gallery in Sausalito. Oh, how I wanted to touch, feel the work, experience it with my hands and I'm not the only one, thus the notes. This gentle reminder for guests in the store held in it the knowing that while eyes do not break things, touching sometimes does, and when something breaks, there is a price to pay.

Ownership is permission to touch

I played with the word attraction and realized that within the word, is action. When attracted, it feels normal, natural, compelling even to act, follow through on the attraction. I did not touch, I resisted the urge, the precious items in the gallery were not mine and I was not buying them, I did not own them and would not be owning them~ownership is permission to touch. Deprived of hands on feeling, I used my sight to drink in the beauty of the artistry and in a quiet corner I wept, filled up with the experience of knowing that these amazing artists had this incredible ability to see the world a certain way and capture it whimsically so that those who observe the finished work can experience what they see, feel, love in life.

People are like fine art

Love is crafted

It is unpopular to say that I belong to my husband, that he is mine and I am his, that we have paid for ownership of one another in marriage and yet, this is the gift of permission to touch. This ownership, it is not slavery, it is abiding love. I touch others, with my eyes, my ears, my heart, sometimes with permission, my hands~it is intimate and close and loving and by no means sexual in nature. People are like fine art, crafted by Hands Unseen. Learning the when where and how of handling with care can take a life time, some blood sweat and tears and maybe this is the masterpiece that we create for others to see.