Category Archives: life

The fireflies at the windows

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We are rapidly approaching the last of the “firsts” since we lost my mom almost a year ago.  I stumbled blindly through my birthday last year, which was three weeks to the day after she passed.  We muddled through the rest of the birthdays in our immediate family, except for one still to come, and celebrated mom’s birthday by having her celebration of life on that same day.

Valentine’s Day will be a quiet one for me this year.  After my dad died, mom and I made a pact to be each others Valentine.  Even after I was married, mom and I had a standing ‘date night’ on February 14th because my now ex-husband always had to work at the restaurant.  She and I would go out for a nice dinner and always gave each other either a lovely arrangement of flowers or a cry-inducing Hallmark card full of sentiment that we both honestly meant.

My youngest nephews’ 12th birthday will be the last of the firsts.  That will be an odd feeling.  But it got me thinking about all of the other milestones, the new ‘firsts’, my parents may see from where they are, but will not be able to physically participate in.  This is the calendar year that my brother will turn fifty.  I’m sure nobody in our family ever thought that momentous day would come and neither of our parents will be here to help him celebrate and embarrass him with untold stories of his youth.

They will miss my oldest nephew, in just over a year, getting his G-1 (the Canadian version of the Learner’s Permit) and creating a new crop of grey hair on the heads of my brother and sister-in-law.  They will miss both of their grandchildren deciding on what field of study they wish to pursue and their subsequent University years and future careers.  And they will not be here if the Gods decide to shine favorably and allow me to fall in love again, the right way this time with the person who deserves my heart.  (although I know my mom will be doing her best to send that person my way)

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I know in my heart that both of my parents wouldn’t miss any of these events.  They will be those dancing specks of light we see at dusk, hovering by the window to watch our lives move forward.  It would just be so much nicer if they were standing right beside us to share in all of the new firsts yet to come.

 

 

 

 

 

Grab the eraser, the blueprint is changing again

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“We must be willing to get rid of the life we planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.” ~ Joseph Campbell

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We are all designers and if I have learned anything in my 45 years on this revolving orb of surprises it is that life never goes according to our intricately drawn plans.  Maybe it is the shifting tides or global warming or an ill-timed sneeze in the wrong direction that erased the lines we had drawn on our personal architecture but the structure of our life always ends up being different from what we had originally anticipated.

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Somewhere between concept and construction, the lines of communication are interrupted and life continues with one plan while we are left scratching our heads looking at the original drawings and wondering what happened.  Life is never exactly what we imagined.   And if yours is I applaud you and you can stop reading because this will have no bearing on your perfect life.

Adapting to change is something we are all too familiar with – the capability to shift our focus and rebuild a few walls to maintain the structural integrity of our lives is of key importance.  The giant eraser of fate can remove one small line in the rendering of our life and change the bones of the entire skeleton of our reality but it is how we learn to live the life that was meant for us that makes us successful.  Being able to leave the old drawings behind and start building again based on the updated sketch is what life is really about.

Maybe those blueprints we so carefully drew helped to build the foundation of our life but I’m willing to bet a little something called fate is going to fill in the rest of the lines for us.

How close is your life now to what you thought it would be?

A non-felonious state of mind

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“There are two types of people in the world.  Those who waste time staring at a closed door and those who find a window.” ~ Phil Dunphy, Modern Family

~~

I love watching Modern Family and as soon as I heard this quote I immediately thought of my dad.  It wasn’t because he was the eternal optimist, although he was.  It was because he took this quote to a whole new level of reality about twenty-five years ago.

My dad sold real estate and he was regarded by many in his field to be one of the best.  The man could sell ice cubes to Polar Bears.  So when a family of five decided they wanted to purchase a cottage in Muskoka, my dad went out of his way to find the perfect place.  He had heard of a property that was being listed, but not yet officially on the market, and he knew it would be their Utopia.  The lake frontage was stunning, the view was incredible and the neighborhood had the promise of only increasing in value.

They ventured en masse to see the property and, because it had not been officially listed, they were unable to access the cottage itself….until my dad spotted the open window.   He would never be able to convince the family of the charm that cottage possessed unless they were able to see the entire property, inside and out.  The wheels in his head began to turn and his eyes finally fell on the youngest of the three children.  With sufficient cajoling and a little effort, the couples’ youngest son was boosted up and sent through the open bathroom window.  Moments later he appeared at the front door to, just as illegally, let the rest of the family enter what would eventually become their family cottage.

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That closed door meant nothing to my dad.  It only took a few moments for him to realize that portal was not his only option.  If he had let himself be constrained by his perceived reality, that cottage would never have been bought by this family.  His perseverance and willingness to think outside of that boxed-in door led him to that open window, the sale of a beautiful cottage and the happiness of a family.

As it turns out, that relatively innocent “break and enter” would have much more of an impact on me, when years later their daughter and I would meet while working in the same pub and become best friends.

You are never stuck in a situation because the door seems to be closed.  And although you think that door may be the only way in or out, look for that open window.  It’s there somewhere.

Willie, may the odds be ever in your favor

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Superbowl Sunday has arrived!  The culmination of seventeen glorious weeks of watching the pigskin, followed by Playoffs and now it’s time for the Big Show!!  Even the groundhogs get a reprieve this year and get to watch the game in the comfort of their burrows without being dragged into the daylight until tomorrow.

Ah, Groundhog Day – that magical morning when we put our faith in an abundantly nourished, rotund mass of fur to predict the arrival of Spring.  This over-sized rodent is depended upon to prognosticate to the best of his ability and tell us, by virtue of seeing or not seeing his shadow, when we can expect the return of Spring.

Last year my post about this auspicious day focused more on the history and process of Willie’s predilection for weather.  This year I thought I would look at things from the perspective of poor Wiarton Willie (the Canadian version of Punxsutawney Phil).  First, he is rudely roused from his winter-long slumber to come out of his burrow and predict something even educated meteorologists cannot agree on.  Second, when he finally does make his appearance, he is greeted by a bemused but somewhat urgent crowd as they try to keep themselves warm enough to endure the period-costumed pomp and circumstance.

I am inclined to guess that Willie’s urge to get back into his cave has nothing to do with seeing his shadow.  I don’t know about you but, if I awoke to large crowd focused solely on me, I would be in one Hell of a hurry to bury myself back under my nest of blankets, shadow or not.  I feel somewhat sorry for Willie.  After being forced from his snug home out into an artic-like morning, the New England Patriots are probably not the only ones with deflated balls.

Given the success rate of these whiskered weather forecasters, the only prediction I would really take to heart is perhaps Willie’s prophecy about Superbowl 49.  Enjoy the game Willie and good luck with the madding crowd on Monday!

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Here’s to grit in my eyes

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Dear Mr. Sandman,

This is a difficult, yet necessary, letter under the circumstances.

While I respect the fact that your position among the Counsel of Legendary Figures (COLF) may be on a lower rung of the power ladder, I must respectfully submit this letter to share my disappointment in your abilities of late.

I have been seemingly self-sufficient when it comes to nodding off after my head has initially hit the pillow.  I know you are busy with others who have difficulty finding that evasive snooze-zone so I have learned to manage that on my own.  What I fail to understand is how you neglect my needs after I have come back into full consciousness and am wide awake at 2:30 in the morning.

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I am a relatively patient person and have been using my time creatively to come up with story lines and blog post ideas while I wait for your arrival, but to no avail.  You have been a repeat offender when it comes to being a no-show and I am beginning to take it a little personally.  I mean, come on man, it’s just a little sprinkling of magical sand for goodness sake.  Surely you can swing by and drop some of that precious powder on my eyes so I can find that whimsical dream world once again after waiting for several hours.

I certainly don’t want this to sound like a threat but, I can only imagine how displeased the COLF would be to find that you have been slacking in your duties and misrepresenting such a prestigious mythical body of great legendary figures.  I’m sure Santa Claus, Cupid and the Tooth Fairy would be slightly easier to deal with but Mother Nature has been a real bitch lately!  (Even Father Time cannot keep up with her shenanigans)

So, for the sake of fairness, I shall refrain from sending a copy of this letter to the COLF in hopes that we can come to an agreement.  I shall eagerly await your attendance the next time I find myself staring at my ceiling in the wee hours.

Come on, Sandy, just a little sprinkle.

With the utmost respect,

Susan

 

 

 

Dancing with the dead

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The aroma of braised beef, compliments of her trip to the local butcher, and potatoes from her garden permeated her nose as the stew continued to boil on the old-fashioned wood stove.  The atmosphere was serene, as it always was here, and the fading sun began to cast shadows across the graveyard.

Cille Choirill

The jagged streaks of light began to play tricks in the looming darkness and she could feel a presence lingering just on the edge of the shadows.  The rolling hills on the other side of the cottage had already been swallowed by the darkness and she knew the night was laying in wait.

The pot continued to simmer as she poured herself a glass of wine.  In her mind, she mulled over the conversations that saturated her ears during her trip into town.  Surely the words she heard were meant to be out of her range but they settled on her like a scratchy, wool blanket and she tried to shrug them off.

“Crazy, she is, living in that place all alone.”

“She must be out of her mind, being so secluded, especially in that place.”

But if they only knew the truth.  She would never be alone, especially after the sun had been absorbed by the horizon and the eyes of the sky looked favorably upon her.   The night was her favorite time.  She took another sip of wine and spooned the beef medley into a bowl.  With her wine in one hand and dinner in the other, she pushed open the screen door and sat on the porch to eat.

The last remnants of the day slowly faded into the black of night and she ate her meal with only the kitchen light tracing her outline from behind.  She had just taken a sip of wine when the first orb appeared.  Its dim light caught her off guard since it appeared so close to her porch.  The spirits were timid, by nature, and they usually stayed closer to their grave markers but this one seemed overly curious.

The others appeared slowly, as if they were performing a show meant only for her.  They moved cautiously at first but, realizing she was the only audience member once again, they began to move with the pattern of the wind.   She could no longer eat.  She felt transported by the energy and left her chair to join them in the yard.

With her arms held high like a child with reckless abandon, she danced with the combination of all the souls who had gone before her.  She felt their very essence as she moved through them like the wind moved through the trees.  She thrived on their energy as they blossomed with hers and the dance continued until the rising of the sun soothed the night into a restful sleep and the blankets of their gravestones once again shielded them from the day.

She would sleep fitfully, waiting until the dance began again.

~~

Written for the Grammar Ghoul Challenge #18 – using the word “stew” and the picture shown above.

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Who’s hiding behind your walls?

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Today I have contributed a post at Stories That Must Not Die.  It is a brief synopsis of alcoholism and growing up with two parents who were haunted by that very beast.  Click here to read the story.  My post here was prompted by the post at STMND combined with a conversation I had yesterday.

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There are moments that sneak up on you and make you realize how much a life growing up with two alcoholic parents has insidiously ingrained itself into your way of being.  My endearing character traits and my flaws are directly related to the life I lived as a teenager and a young adult.  If you read my post, you’ll understand that ours was a very loving home but I grew up much more quickly than I should have and learned, very young, how to build walls around myself.  I created a hard outer shell to keep myself soft and emotional on the inside but tough on the outside.

It was during a very interesting conversation with a male friend yesterday that the subject of dating came up, specifically dating websites and the basic instincts of humans regarding the laws of attraction.  He had taken a rudimentary stab at what qualities I would say I look for in a man and he was off the mark, but he was also guessing from a man’s perspective on what he thinks a woman would want based on the opposite of what a man would want.

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I had all-but forgotten about the primal instincts of men and I am not saying that in a negative way.  In my quest to protect myself and build my walls, I had potentially buried the softer, more feminine side of myself and let the tomboy be the dominant, protective personality.  It was how a teenage mind dealt with a difficult situation and potentially how I have removed myself from the desirable end of the dating pool. That simple awareness was like an awakening.  It is a rare but divine twist of fate that can take an outside force and use it to help you discover an inner truth.

Our conversation really opened my eyes.  I will never try to be someone I am not just to go on a date but perhaps that little girl inside of me is a part of who I really am and I just never gave her a chance.  I built my walls so high that she had no choice but to peer over them and wonder what was on the other side.

Walls are only effective if you know who you are protecting and who the real enemy is and, in this case, I became my own worst enemy.  I may have protected myself from a big part of who I was really meant to be but at least there is still time to find her and give her a chance.

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Removing the obstacles – a lesson in housekeeping

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clutter

I would never describe myself as a minimalist.  I do love some of the comforts I have afforded myself.  But the bits of collected stuff that seemed to have congested my life have been eradicated, tossed, vanquished.

I live in a small home that suits my needs and the needs of my dog.  We have a vast amount of space outside and ample room inside to be quite comfortable.  I have never been one to have rooms just for the sake of having rooms.  Our life is simple, our life is comfortable and our life is manageable.

The largest room in our 600-square-foot home is the kitchen.  This is why I chose this house.  I remember standing on very high snow banks to peer into the windows before I began renting.  As soon as I saw the kitchen, I knew this was meant to be my home.  My kitchen is my haven.  I love to bake and I love to cook.  And even though I am currently cooking for one, creating food is a passion and not just a necessity.  When I finally bought this home from my landlord, my renovation money was easily focused on the kitchen.

Over the years the clutter began to accumulate but, it wasn’t just the physical pieces that had been stashed into the corners, it was the collected bits of memories and regrets that had also been piling up in the invisible spaces in my house.  These piles of intangible things had been standing between me and the life I was willing to move towards.  It took a small dumpster and a great deal of courage to rid myself of the physical and mental obstacles in my life and be able to live free of the clutter that had been threatening to topple over and bury me under its weight.

After a few hundred dollars and several hours of intense labor, I was finally free of the clutter – all of the clutter.  The physical reminders of a life that had failed and the mental reminders of things that were never meant to be were finally gone.  For the first time in a long time, I felt free.  I truly felt that the life I wanted now had a way to find me without having to circumvent all of the barriers I had created.

A little Spring cleaning can go a very long way and it can eventually clear the path that you were meant to follow.

 

 

 

 

I want that prescription just for the side effects

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I was wasting more precious moments of my life on Facebook when I came across a friend’s status – it read:  “Why do medications always have side effects like ‘stomach bleeding’ and ‘suicidal thoughts’? Why not ‘invisibility’ or ‘spontaneous orgasms’?”  It makes me laugh every time I read it.

I have never been a pill-popper.  Even when I am sick, I will only take pills if my symptoms are at Defcon 2 and I have no alternative.  It seems every commercial for any “wonder drug” spends more time touting the ill-effects of the drug rather than the benefits.

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It makes me happy that I am not a fan of taking over the counter or prescription medications without serious deliberation.  Unless, of course, the side effects become much more beneficial.  🙂

 

If I lived in Boston, I would say Buddha is ‘wicked smaht’

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I’m sure we can all recall the many times in our childhood we were told to treat people the way we would like to be treated.   Do unto others.  It made a great deal of sense, it still does, and made us all (hopefully) more socially responsible and more polite human beings.

But somewhere along the path of treating others with respect and courtesy we may have drained our personal well of kindness and empathy and saved very little compassion for ourselves.  We spend so much time worrying about how we treat others that we fail to treat ourselves with the same dignity that we would impart to a stranger.

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 It is instinctual to be concerned for others, to help those who need our help, but how often do we reflect on our own needs and drink from our own well of compassion?  We need our own help just as much as others may count on us for support.  There is a vast difference between wallowing in self-pity and allowing yourself a few moments to feel the pain of what is bothering you, to process it and to understand that giving yourself time to heal is, not just okay but, a necessity.

We need to do unto ourselves and give the same common courtesy to ourselves that we were taught to give others.  To do anything less would be a grave injustice. As Buddha so wisely says, it would make us incomplete.  Denying ourselves that level of self-compassion makes us unworthy of being able to understand the message behind the emotion and renders us unable to truly share the gift of empathy.

It is better to give than to receive.  But it is acceptable and necessary to give to ourselves as well as give to others.  Compassion is not something you can only share with those around you.  Compassion is meant to encompass everyone, including you.