Looking for somewhere to belong

Looking for somewhere to belong

Can be a dangerous thing
A frightening place to be 
When we have no idea

Where we belong
And where we do not
Belong

Who we are and who we are not
Because then

We open ourselves 
To be swayed 
This way and that
Going with the wind
Even when we know 
We should turn back
Even when we feel too exposed

Over exposed to the elements
When we are tossed 
To and fro
This way and that
Because we have no idea

Where to go
Who to trust
Who knows who we are

And who we are not
That’s when it's dangerous for us
To raise our heads
To be seen above the crowd
Because that’s when 
We expose ourselves
Expose our vulnerable sides
Reveal our fragile sides
To those who will use that vulnerability

Abuse our fragility

For their gain 
Not ours
They will exploit us
Use us
Thrust us out to the wolves
And hang back in the shadows 
While we lick our wounds
Never offering to help us
Unless they have gained

Unless they have profited from our loss
That’s why it's important

So important

To know where we belong
By knowing who we are
By standing in our own strength
By doing for the good of all 
Which helps us

To be us and us alone

Not them

Those over there
Looking for somewhere to belong
Without knowing who we are
Is a dangerous thing
A lonely thing
A frightening thing
Because we emit our fear
Like honey to the bees
To the wrong people

Swarming

Waiting

Lusting

For us to make them strong
Present their agenda
And be their fall person

Their fall people

If we are not careful

If we are constantly

Looking for somewhere to belong

Taking anything

Accepting anyone

Who makes us feel whole

Without realizing

Only we can make us whole

And only then can we find and know

Where we belong

Always when we are called to help others

Sometimes we are called to support in ways we never dreamed we were capable of supporting. Never knew we had the strength to support. Sometimes we are given trials ourselves so that when the time comes we know how to be strong to those who may be weak when we are called. Those who need strength to get through periods in their lives they never dreamed they would have to face. But we have already faced.

And sometimes when we are called in such a way, we are being called to address issues unresolved within ourselves. Issues we thought we had addressed but have not. Issues that we have suppressed and never discussed or talked about. Because we think if we bury them deep enough and clever enough, no one will know the hurt and vulnerability we still carry. No one will feel our pain because we have learned how to conceal and pretend  so well we falsely believe we are healed. Believe we can mask the truth. Not realizing nothing is hidden. Nothing is suppressed. All things come to the surface eventually – sometimes quicker than others. Sometimes much later in our lives when we are strong enough to understand in time all is revealed.

And when that time comes, those emotions and feelings burst to the surface because they can be contained no more. When it is time for us to heal by helping others to heal, there is nothing that can stop the volcano before it erupts. Nothing that can contain the broken seal.

And when we are called in this way, we are usually called from the least likely source. From someone we may have caused angst in the past. Someone we thought we would never receive a call for help from. But that person comes back in forms least expected to use us to help heal others. To help us to heal. To bring closure to situations and circumstances that could not be healed in any other way. Sometimes coming from a world parallel to ours. A world we do not quite understand and question whether it exists but we know the call is from them. That it is coming through us from them. From a world we cannot touch but know is there. 

And sometimes that calling can bring us to our knees as we grapple with trying to remain steadfast and strong to help the person who needs help the most. Particularly when we realize we are making way for us to receive the greatest healing of our lives. To allow us to address the issues we have suppressed. So we can experience the emotions we have buried. So we can know empathy and compassion on a level that could not have come in any other way. So we can forgive and love all at the same time.  

Sometimes when we are called to stand in support of others, to be a pillar of strength for others, to be an angel in disguise, we realize always when we are called to help others, we are really called to help ourselves. Namaste.

Finding and reconnecting with beautiful things

There is a place for beautiful things in our lives. A place that lifts our souls and brings us joy. A place where the light comes in to help us to shine bright on our own. That place is a sacred space that we create on our own, through our own individuality and passion. That place is at our core and needs to be filled with beautiful things that mean the most to us.

Beautiful things are not necessarily material. They come with the sound of beautiful music. Music that lifts our soul. Music that resonates deep within us. Moves us. Fills us with passion and life. Beautiful music is individual to each one of us and changes according to where we are in our lives. What may be beautiful to me may not be beautiful to you. When I am feeling down and burdened, I often put on my earphones and allow myself to be swept away by a beautiful and lilting piece of music to another place and time. A place and time when life was beautiful to ground me to know that whatever is happening will pass as the song I am listening to will end. Everything has a place and time and everything ends at some point to allow us to move to the next stage of our lives. Ave Maria one of my favourite songs. Taking me on a journey. Barbra Streisand reminding me there are no mistakes, only lessons to be learned. Beyonce letting me know the importance of making my mark so others will know I was here when my time to depart comes.

Beautiful things also include stopping and taking the time to really see and appreciate nature. Bending down as I did yesterday to really look at a beautiful white/ pink rose that is blooming in my garden. Proudly displaying itself as I walk the pathway to my home. As I start to mount the steps, there is this delicate rose in its perfection. Petals like little pieces of velvet - delicate. Smell like an intoxicant. Colour, pure. And unadulterated. Inhaling the freshness of the rose grounding me to the stages of life – birth, growth and death. The cycle of life where there is living and trial inbetween.

Beautiful things also can mean reading a passage from our favourite authors. Maya Angelou telling us about the beauty of who we are. The strength of who we are by letting us know despite defeat in our lives, we may not allow ourselves to be defeated. Instead to know regardless of what happens, still I rise. Seducing me with her use of language. Allowing me to float and regain my passion. My romantic notion about life.  Lifting my soul. Allowing me to escape to a reality where there is no good or evil. Just beauty. Just uplifting words. Allowing me to remember there is beauty in everything,. Even in our challenge because it is the challenge that is forcing us to rethink what we are doing and where we are. Reading an uplifting passage transforms into a beautiful thing because it makes our heart sing and our spirit soar.

Beautiful things come in many different ways and many of them are free and cost us nothing except a shift in our consciousness to that which fills us with passion, forgiveness, grace, and possibility. That which allows us to reconnect with our authentic selves without having to sell ourselves to be that we are not. Beautiful things come when we allow ourselves to accept who we are and what we want because they ground us back to the basis of who we are and who we are not.

When our world seems to be spiralling out of control, it is the Universe whispering to us to stop, to find and reconnect with the beautiful things in our lives – those things that bring us peace, love and grace. Those things that fill us with passion. Those things that make our hearts sing and our spirit soar – the love in our lives – our families, a piece of art, a passage from one of our favourite authors, the voice of one of our best singers, a prayer, the perfection of a rose, a walk in nature. Only we know what the beautiful things are in our lives and reconnect with them when all else seems to be ugly in our lives that we will be free. Because it is the ugly that is asking us to remember the beautiful. The Yin Yang of life.

There is a place for beautiful things in our lives. A place that lifts our souls and brings us joy. That place resides within all of us. Deep within all of us and is accessible to us all when we are ready and willing to let go of the ugly to allow the beautiful to rise. When we let go of the ugly and make room for the beautiful to rise. When we see through the ugly for the beauty it brings. It is then that we make way for our hearts to sing and our spirits to soar because what we discover is that there is beauty in everything. Namaste.

Words left unspoken

Words left unspoken

Hanging in the air

Waiting for us to capture

Bring them close and near

Words left unspoken

Those words

We wish we had spoken

Shared

Said

Asked for acceptance

Forgiveness

Peace

Love

Compassion

Words left unspoken

Putting them off

To tomorrow

Tomorrow

That never comes

Words left unspoken

Leaving us gutted

Feeling spent

And sad

Guilt ridden even

That we never said

What we needed to say

Had to say

Were meant to say

To mend the bridges

Cross the road

Extend a hand

Words left unspoken

To say

I understand

I love

I accept

Words left unspoken

Never to meet the ears

Of the ones

Who needed them the most

Because 

It is too late

The time has come and gone

Leaving us 

Exhausted

Tired

Full of remorse

Words left unspoken

A gulf between

Here and now

There and gone

Sending shivers through us

When we hear

The one we needed to speak to

Extend a hand to

Ask for forgiveness

Is gone

From this world

To the next

Leaving us to wonder

Did they know

That we still cared

Did they know

That they had a profound effect on our lives

Did they go with regret

The same regret

That we carry deep in our hearts

The regret that will travel with us

From this world to the next

Words left unspoken

Hanging in the air

Suspended between this world and the next

We can’t capture them

And give them to the one who needed them the most

The one

Who is us

Left broken

That we did not cross over

Did not take heed

That there is no tomorrow

Because

Tomorrow never comes

Words left unspoken

Reminding us

What we have to do

We need to do now

In this moment

Because that’s all we have

All the time promised

Is in this moment

This present

This gift of time

Words left unspoken

Harder than the words spoken

Even when they hurt

Because at least

We’ve spoken

And there is no regret

Words left unspoken

Suspended in the air

Waiting for us to capture them

And bring them here

In the now

To the present

Before it is too late

Before we realize

There is no tomorrow

Tomorrow never comes

Words left unspoken

Pain

Remorse

Regret

Be inspired. Be grateful

My first Monday morning without my baby girl Mysty- blue, my little furball. My little rabbit. And I have to admit it is really hard to know I am beginning another day, another week without her little beautiful face.

We buried our little girl, Mysty- Blue, on Saturday morning under the blazing winter sun that felt more like Spring than Winter. We put her little body in the ground and I was afraid to touch her thinking she would not feel the same. Thinking somehow she would have hardened too much, but I felt compelled to do so. To touch her one last time before we covered her. And when I did, I was glad I had. She still felt like my soft Mysty. I almost expected for her to jump up and come back to us. Watching closely to make sure she was not breathing. Her eyes still open, staring back at me like my girl who loved to look me in the eye.

We put her little zebra print bed in so she could lie on it in comfort and so she could have something from us with her as she began her journey from this world to the next. We covered her in hay first and then each of us took a turn to cover her with soil. Dust to Dust. Sad to let her physical being go even though I knew her spirit had left long ago.

After our little ceremony, my daughter cut a white rose from the same bush in our garden as my husband had cut one for me the day before and placed it on top of the mound of soil. They all walked away but I could not. Not just yet. I could not turn my back on my baby girl who had brought me so much joy in a very short time. I stood with her for a while. Telling her how much I love her and will miss her. Telling her to be free. And then I stood in silence and allowed the song of the birds, the whispers of life going on to surround me. To fill me. To uplift me. To remind me this chapter in my life was over in the physical but would always remain in spirit. To remind me that life goes on.

And then I looked up as a little yellow butterfly fluttered out of the Golden shower tree and flew right past me and up in the air. Up. Up. Up in front of my vision as if it was Mysty telling me it’s okay mommy I am now free. Free to go so you can go too. I felt her little spirit all through me with that yellow butterfly who stayed with me until I was ready to walk away. Fluttering around me. Staying near until I walked away and then it flew away.

I walked to her house and looked in. Looked at where she had spent the last few months of her life – all cleaned out now. All her treats and things gone just like her and a tear come to my eye. And then a well of emotions came out of me as I knew my girl was gone and would not be back any more. I walked from her house to our porch and unbeknownst to me, my husband was waiting with arms open wide. I fell into his arms and sobbed while he stroked me. Grateful for having a man who understands how much even a pet’s death can hurt, can devastate.

We held each other for a long time. Grieving for words not spoken. For things left unsaid. For life marching on even in the face of death.

Later, my daughter and I bought a little rabbit statute and a bird ornament that says, “Be inspired.  Be Grateful”  to put where Mysty-blue was laid to rest so that each morning when I open the windows in my bathroom and look out, I will see her resting place beneath my Buddha with love and peace. Reminding me that life is very short and it can change in an instant. To live each day as if it is my last. To truly live. To be inspired by and to be grateful for every second, every minute, every hour of each day that I am living and breathing. Namaste.

Farewell to my beautiful Mysty-Blue

When death comes, there is nothing we can do about it. We can’t stop it, alter it, delay it or prevent it. When it comes, it is time regardless of whether we are ready or not. We can cry. We can ask why. We can think it unfair. That it is evil and mean. We can become bitter and stop living but if we do then we are inviting death in for ourselves. Because when we stop living, all that is left is for us to die.

Death is humbling and can bring us to our knees. Sending even our greatest hopes and dreams to a place of darkness and fear.

I write this from a place of sadness. A place of regret and guilt. A place of not understanding the why. We adopted our beautiful Mysty-Blue, our beloved rabbit from the SPCA on May 26, 2013 for our daughter’s 10^th birthday and she was so happy to have Mysty. So happy when I took her to the SPCA under the guise of seeing this new rabbit they had in as she had been begging us to get her a rabbit. Not letting her know I had been there during my lunch break and had already adopted the rabbit. I hadn’t intended to adopt her. All I had intended was to go to see her but once I got there and held her in my arms and she looked me in the eye, my heart melted and there was no way I could leave her there. I had to give her a home. So I walked out with adoption papers in my hand.

And when I picked our daughter up from school I took her to see if the two bonded. She held the little rabbit in her arms and when I told her the rabbit was hers all she could say was thank you Mommy, thank you so much. Her eyes wet with tears.

We brought our rabbit home. Trying to think of a name for her.  Our daughter sitting on the porch with her on a grey and misty day until the name came to her. Mysty- Blue because she was grey and matched the grey day.  The name stuck as it suited our beautiful girl with eyes painted like she had on permanent eye liner and mascara. Laughing at her long ears that seemed bigger than her.

Only to discover as the weeks went by that her ears were big because she was to more than double in size.  Growing too large for the hutch we bought her. My husband converted our daughter’s old play house into Mysty’s house – a little pink and white Bermuda cottage of her own, complete with ramps and stairs so she could sit and look out of her windows. To see the outdoors when she had to be confined to her house while we were out. So she could stretch out and hop freely around. So she could have room to be a rabbit.

Every morning I would go out to feed Mysty and to clean out her cage. And every morning when I unlatched the gate on our porch, she would hear me and jump up on her ledge filling her window to let me know she knew I was coming. And every morning when I opened her door, she would reach her beautiful face outside to kiss me on the lips. We would share that special moment together. Drinking each other in.  Then I would take her out of the house and hold her in my arms and snuggle my face into her soft and beautiful fur. She would wiggle herself until she felt safe in my arms and I would walk across the yard with her snuggled in my arms and let her jump onto the porch where she would have her morning treats while I cleaned her cage.

Our morning ritual. Sacred and special. A memory now. Reality no more.

On Thursday because of the rain I did not go out to feed her or snuggle with her. My husband did instead. The entire day I felt off. Like something was wrong. I felt despondent. Ill. But could not put my finger on the why. Distracted. Lacking in inspiration. I came home feeling so tired like all of the life had been sucked out of me. So I told my husband I was going to bed. That I needed to rest.  I went to bed under the sound of the pounding rain. Closing my eyes. Shutting out the grim feeling of the day.

Yesterday morning I opened the gate and there was no Mysty in the window. As I walked over to her house, no Mysty jumped up into the window.  I called her name. No response. No Mysty in the window. My heart raced. My hands shook. My mouth dry. I looked in the window and saw her lying on the ground. Her face away from the window. I called her name. No movement. No response.

I opened the door and called her name. Knowing there would be no response because I could feel she was no longer there. That her spirit had gone though her body remained. Still I did not want to believe what I knew to be true. So I kept calling her name hoping for a miracle.

I dropped everything and ran across the wet grass. Tears streaming down my face. I frantically telephoned my husband needing to speak to him before I spoke to the children. But got his voice mail. I needed confirmation that my Mysty was dead. So I rushed into the children’s room telling them I thought Mysty had died. Asking my son to come with me to check. My daughter crying and screaming. Trying to come out of the house half dressed. I told her to get dressed as I ran with my son to Mysty’s house.

We opened the door and she had not moved. Still in the position she was when I left. He said, “She’s dead mommy.”

My daughter running across the grass in her school socks and no shoes hearing my son tell me the news and she cried harder. I could not comprehend what was happening so I screamed at her to go and put on shoes.

They went back into the house and I called my husband again. This time I got him and I broke down as soon as I heard his voice, my touchstone in the midst of the storm, and told him Mysty had died. The sobbing uncontrollable. The dam finally broken. I could not stop the pain I felt. The loss of my morning kiss, my morning snuggle. My baby girl Mysty-Blue.

I told him he needed to come to get her out before the flies came. I could not touch her. Not when death had taken her from me. Had called her home.

I had to leave the house with her still in her house all alone. Riddled with guilt for not being with her the day before. For not being there when she died. Hoping she did not suffer. Hoping she knew she was loved.

We got to the car and there on the window was a white rose my husband had picked from our garden and placed on the windshield with a note of love. A note he had left before he knew our rabbit was gone. A note and a rose as if he knew before he left I would need his love.

When death comes there is no stopping it. No preventing it. It comes when it is time. I just hope our Mysty is free now. Free to hop all over rabbit heaven whatever that may be and know she was truly loved.

Farewell to our beautiful Mysty-Blue. We will miss you but are grateful for the eight months we had you in our lives. Hop bunny. Hop freely across the grass with love and light and grace. You are free now. No more confinement. No more captivity. Love. Birth. Life. Death. All one in the same. Namaste my Mysty-Blue forever etched in our hearts.

I absolutely love being a mother

I absolutely love being a mother. It is one of the most rewarding roles I have ever taken on in my life as well as one of the most challenging. Wanting to give my children as much rope as I can so they can fly while at the same time keeping a hold of the rope so they know they are loved no matter what. Trying to find that delicate balance of holding on while letting go. Of knowing my children are here to live their lives. Not mine.

I look into their eyes sometimes and am mesmerized by what I see, by what I feel. I look at their bodies and am surprised by how much they are growing and maturing, becoming adults very quickly. I listen to their words and am proud of their depth and breadth of life.

I was reminded of this the other night when my family went out for dinner to celebrate my husband’s birthday. Sometimes I found myself having an out of body experience – looking on my family with pride from a position outside of us.

To watch and listen to my son and daughter – their quick wit, mature sense of humor and ability to deliver one liners without changing their expressions is so interesting to watch. And then seeing them sometimes reverting back to that place of need – that place between child and adult is so fascinating. So exhilarating to know they have their whole lives still ahead of them if that is what the Divine has in store for them.

Their recollection of events and information they have picked up along the way and being able to relay their understanding and comprehension of it with such conviction and passion made my heart sing. Listening to them having their own opinions about life and what they have learned is heartwarming because I know they are becoming their own people able to stand on their own two feet. Individuals sprung from the same DNA but using it according to their own will.

I loved listening to them, not as their mother, but as an individual sometimes just so I could hear them from an outsider’s perspective and be able to not judge so I could let them go. Let them explore who they are and what they want without my influence. Guiding them but not directing them. As Khalil Gibran says we are the vessels through which they come.

I love watching my children interacting with each other. The love and respect they have for each other is a beautiful thing to witness because they have a bond that I had always hoped for when we decided to have more than one child. Allaying my fears that one child would feel more loved than the other. Watching them together lets me know they both know they are loved in their own special way. And in turn they are able to love each other so deeply and openly.

To be honest I was afraid to have another child after our son because I feared I would not be able to love another in the way I fell in love with him when he was born. But love has a funny way of splitting itself while remaining whole at the same time when it comes to motherhood and children. As it did and does for me right now.

The love I have for my children is unlike any love I have ever known. It is an instinctual love full of pride and reverence. It is a love that comes from my core and expands with each child. It is pure and absolutely unadulterated.

I never wanted to be a mother because I was afraid I would leave my children before they were ready as my mother did with me when I suddenly became a motherless daughter at the age of 13. But what I realize more than anything now that I am a mother is my mother leaving me so abruptly and unexpectedly, though heartbreaking at the time and still to some extent now, was preparing me to become the caring and compassionate mother I am today for my children.

Her death taught me to never take anything for granted. To be present for my children. To love them unconditionally and to let them know all the time how much I love them and how much they mean to me so if I have to leave them suddenly and move on to the next world, they will know they were loved and will continue to carry my love with them no matter where they go.

To teach them that a life filled with love is much greater than a life without love.  To show them to live as fully as they can and as compassionately as they can because tomorrow is promised to no one. Lessons I would never have learned had I not become a mother. That’s why I love being a mother because by becoming a mother I know so much more about love, compassion, faith, forgiveness, trust and letting go while holding on without strangling.

In gratitude to my children for choosing me as their mother and to my husband for choosing me as his partner allowing us to be the growing and loving family we are today. Namaste