Category Archives: Beauty

Door # 2,0,1,5?

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Only dreams give birth to change  … Sarah Ban Breathnach

There are years that ask questions and years that answer.  Zora Neale HurstonIMG_8658

What does 2015 hold? Like the North African doors that call me to enter, the New Year is inviting me to step through and discover the beauty that awaits. And not seen in the picture is the garbage that was scattered throughout much of the land … Life is not pristine, I will encounter garbage in 2015. But does that keep me from dreaming? (Sometimes -yes) As I think ahead to the plans, dreams and goals I have (I focus on themes instead of resolutions, less binding.) I am aware that the Trust issue is a big factor in my life. I do not know what will happen, life has taught me that not all dreams and hopes will materialize, no matter how reverent my outlook on life is.  A poster above my son’s bed said: I don’t know what the future holds, but I know WHO holds the future.   I am challenged to place my trust in God. Too often I feel I have to do it all myself …

I am also aware that the Becoming is important for me … becoming more of the person I want to be, have potential to be, becoming aware of the Sacred in the daily, aware that I have choices in the doors I open and close, aware that no one can make me more miserable than I can myself.  Aware that even though my grand-daughter, all of 8 years old, tells me that my legs jiggle when I swim, I will continue to swim.  My isn’t she becoming?

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Many women today feel a sadness we cannot name. Though we accomplish much of what we set out to do, we sense something is missing in our lives and—fruitlessly—search out there for the answers. What’s often wrong is that we are disconnected from an authentic sense of self.  Emily Hancock.

I am also aware that being a woman in the western world, I have many more opportunites than the veiled women I met in North Africa and I am grateful for that. The doors that open in some cultures are much smaller, and often closed or difficult to push open. They may not even be aware that things could be different. I pray that I will knock on doors, even when I am intimidated by their size.IMG_7091

As you go through the door of 2015, begin this new year by trusting your inner, authentic self, and trust that there is a loving Source, a sower of dreams … May this year provide some answers, and may you enjoy the  journey of the question. In the end, I wish to become more authentic, more trusting, more connected to myself and my God, and more becoming.

It’s only when we truly know and understand that we have a limited time on earth—and that we have no way of knowing when our time is up—that we will begin to live each day to the fullest as if it was the only one we had.                      Elizabeth Kübler-Ross

Pictures taken in North Africa by J Faire

Decemberings from North Africa

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This is the land of the Nativity Card look alike, and I am closer to the bread and olive oil world that the baby Jesus entered, than when I hang stockings by the mantle in the winter wonderland of the Rocky Mountains. But there is little evidence that the major holiday of the western world is upon us.

So why does it not feel like Christmas? And what is Christmas supposed to feel like?

Here in North Africa, near the edge of the Sahara, the mother part of me desires to recreate the atmosphere that my daughter grew up with, on the Canadian prairies, so I can give my IMG_0066grandkids a sense of what “Christmas is about.” So Ernest Saves Christmas-our family movie from 25 years ago and the Cabbage Patch Christmas album, even older, have journeyed with me to share in this sandy land. I have brought ornaments to glitter and glue, chocolate chips for the baking. I brought my own wrapping paper. A part of me wants to do the something old, something new, something borrowed from this culture and the something blue comes naturally post grief. Throw in my daughter hosting a  community Christmas party, and the age old dilemma of Christmas Martha (Stewart) versus Christmas Mary (who ponders everything in her heart) takes shape … and I fall into the trap of performing.

And is it something I need to do in order for Christmas to happen? Ann Voskamp’s words challenge me … to become a space for God.  Immanuel-God with us … in order for that to happen, I have to make room in my crowded life for that filling, that presence.

It is only three days till Christmas, and my 5 year old grandson asks if we could please, please open one of those presents that magically appeared under the tree last night. I have forgotten how hard it is for children to wait for the day to open gifts. I feel my own impatience with waiting for the gift of fulfillment.  And I ponder again the concept of becoming a place for God.  Making a space for beauty, life, and joy to enter. May it be so.

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Gifts of time and love are surely the basic ingredients of a truly merry Christmas. – Peg Bracken

Christmas is not as much about opening our presents as opening our hearts. – Janice Maeditere

 

Travel Tips from A Broad

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The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page. ** SaintAugustineIMG_2383

Trains, planes and automobiles … all in a day, plus bumping carry-ons over cobblestone streets. A privilege to be reading pages from the book of Four Great Cities of Eastern Europe: Dubrovnik, Budapest, Prague and Vienna. The destination is only a part of the journey. Four weeks of travel and what have I learned:

Communication, communication, communication.

The barrier of language,

The connection of smiles,

but precise words can direct you to the correct train platform.

A face tells a story. (Be in charge of its cover.)

Titles are deceiving, and customer service does not guarantee anything,

Information desks may or may not dispense accurate information.

Travel with a friend is joy doubled.  IMG_2706

Be prepared, travel light.

(Prepared for what?)

Be prepared to be flexible, and always have tissue in your bag.

Judgements over differences can arise quickly,

Open travellers practice seeing the world with the eyes of the heart,

Culture bleeds into opinions, even when we feel we are open-minded.

There are countless ways of living life, the wise traveller practices

Giving up the need to be right.

Smiling faces at arrival gates dissipate travel weariness. (Especially if they are grandchildren)

“This world is not my home, I’m just a passing through.” (And I want to pass through as much of it as I can.)

The 3 minute egg versus the 5 minute egg:  “Would you like a 3 minute egg or a 5 minute?” The blank look on my face gave evidence that I did not understand my Austrian host’s question, so she repeated it. I opted for the 5 minute, egg … we are called to breakfast 6 min later, with a boiled egg in a white egg cup, a white plate for bread, a white bowl for fruit. Cheese, meat and jam set on the table alongside fresh squeezed orange juice. We began, and as I approached my 5 minute egg my host corrected my angle of attack with an expression of horror. (There is in an egg cup for a purpose.) When I confess that we usually shell our 8 minute eggs in Canada, I am informed that 8 minute eggs are eaten only at Easter. I like to think that I carry the hope of Easter all year round, perhaps that explains my egg eating habits?  With an outer smile and an inner grimace I recognize there are numerous ways of getting egg on one’s face.

Perhaps travel cannot prevent bigotry, but by demonstrating that all peoples cry, laugh, eat, worry, and die, it can introduce the idea that if we try and understand each other, we may even become friends. **

Maya Angelou

**Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/topics/topic_travel.html

Food Drives … Us All

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And when she got there, the cupboard was (not)bareIMG_7499

Things I learned while collecting for the local food bank …
Not to be confused as scientific research.

1. Kraft Dinners: the #1 stale-dated item donated. (I confess my own guilt to giving items that I thought I’d use, but didn’t)  Does best before date honestly apply to Kraft Dinner?

2. Good Weather is a bonus for the door to door walkers! (Volunteers collected 30,000 pounds in our town of 18,000.)

3. Dogs greeted me more often than people, 85% of homes I went to had dogs, 50% of those had more than one. Perhaps their bark was worse than their bite, but I was very thankful for any barrier between myself and them. I don’t think any dog food was collected, but cranberry sauce and left over stuffing mix were.

4. How to catch an escaping Chihuahua dog – as the owner put her phone down to get her food donation.

5. Betty’s friend just had her breast removed. (Not knowing either of them, I don’t know that I needed to know that)

6. Austin, age 7, claimed he could whistle-but apparently not, however, he was impressed with my whistle. He also claimed the white truck parked on the road was his, and that he was working with his grandpa. Grandpa did not come to the door, but Austin’s friend contributed four cheese string snacks to the food drive.

7. Teens in charge of the house will donate a can of sardines.

8. Hot dogs are better Hot. (Note to volunteers, go early for complementary food.)

9. I know which houses to return to for the Halloween collection. They look like fun.

10. Top benefits: Satisfaction of Volunteering, renewed awareness that Many small contributions make a BIG difference.IMG_7455

I was not sure how to interpret the above sign, but when a large dog echoed this greeting, I applied it to my immediate situation, and vacated the doorstep.

Things I learned while writing this blog: World Food Day is Oct 16 and was started in 1945.

Consider these Canadian figures from – HungerCount 2013:

36.4% of those turning to food banks are children and youth

4.3% of adults helped are over age 65

11.3% of people assisted are Aboriginal

50% of households helped receive social assistance

11.5% have income from current or recent employment

16.4% receive disability-related income supports

8% of food banks ran out of food during the survey period

50% of food banks needed to cut back on the amount of food provided to each household

Many modern countries experience both hunger and food waste on a large scale. Last month I attended a film that featured Jen Rustemeyer and Grant Baldwin, a Vancouver couple and their concern about the amount of wasted food. Their award winning film Just Eat It, documents their challenge to live six months on waste/outdated food.    Below is the link to the movie trailer – absolutely worth the click to preview, less than 2 min.


None of the above information is intended to induce guilt, in fact I had a snack while typing.

Not Set in Stone …

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BUT CAST IN BRONZE
IMG_0471Does the clay speak back to the potter?

You bet your wrought iron she does!!
(She likes to think of it in terms of having conversations)
And has she been struck by lightning?                                                                                                                                                              Not yet, but she is considering a weathervane as an early warning device.

This past weekend, I discovered that my new hometown boasts Western Canada’s first and largest artistic bronze foundry. Studio West is located in what looks initially like a small building, but then you see add-on, to add-on, like the little house that added a bedroom with each new baby. Karen Begg, the grand-daughter and daughter of the original founders, was my tour guide. She explained their success story of steady growth and right time expansion. Their humble bronze pour beginning in a Calgary garage had the neighbours talking.
Karen’s passion for the creative process is evident in the stain of the hands, the caress of the finished products, the excitement in her voice as she shares the history, the process, and the Canada to Europe locations of their finished IMG_6732pieces. From concept to larger than life, she provides the short version of how to create a lasting monument.  The quality of their works have garnered numerous awards, five of their pieces have been unveiled by the Queen.
It is Karen’s explanation of the Lost Wax foundry process that intrigues me. In a nutshell, they cover the original sculpture with rubber, then a layer of hot wax is poured over top, cooled, and then the outer  mould is crafted from the same material used in the space shuttle tiles.  The wax is lost-or melted out. Space the wax occupied, becomes bronze. Experience has taught them to make a small model before the full size. The final statue is poured in sections approximately 325-500 lbs at a time. Pieces are welded together, after which smoothing out the joints and fine detailing takes place … always going back to the original model as their guide. (Note-this does not happen overnight.)

IMG_1134In the back room, we met a pair of one hundred year old dogs,  to be refinished and given a new home.
“What turns the parts of the statues golden?” one of our group asks.She replies, “when they are loved, see the tips of the nose, and tops of heads.”          I wonder  if I develop any golden character when I am brushed up close and personal with people.

So many comparisons to ancient words … about, a Creator that has crafted artistic works, being made in His image, always going back to the original, the potter’s hands.
I forgot to ask Karen if any of her monuments ever talked back to her …. or were struck by lightning.

An interesting book I recently discovered is: Conversations With Monuments in Winnipeg                    by Kathleen Francis. Photography and thoughts around some of Winnipeg’s bronze characters.

Studio West Bronze Foundry & Art Gallery – Galleries West

The Inch Worm

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Downsizing of Dreams

My life moves ahead in Fits and Starts 

I am the Inch Worm

  Folding in half for each step ahead

    Vulnerable, easily squished

      But I am not the Inch Worm

        Because I have Skin

          A backbone that aches

            Pain lets me know

              That I am alive

                I taste Joy in this

                  Velvet Morning

                    Pink Skies give Way

                      To a Brand New Day

                        To Inch Ahead.

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Hope is definitely not the same thing as optimism. It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.

Vaclav Havel-Czech Playwright and President

Snow-shaker, Ice-breaker

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This is only September but …
Postcard Christmas snow burdens the branches IMG_6312
pristine heaviness
Silence of snow
insulates the earth,
muffles the birds
Invites me
to withdraw from the world
As outside it piles heavy on unprepared trees
Branches about to break,
Like humans under the weight of worry.
Be a snow-shaker, when you can …

Crazy … Sunday I was picnicking with friends in 25 degree weather, and
Monday morning it snowed, and snowed for three days and three nights … the branches sagged till they met earth.
Tuesday on my walk I delighted to see the branches spring back with a light shaking … it was kind of fun. That evening Mayor Nenshi of Calgary was on the news asking people to give branches a gentle shake, to reduce the burden on the trees. Trees full of leaves, each catching more snow to add to the weight.
Wednesday Armed with a three-prong rake I went out, hooked higher branches, shook and released. This was play in the snow for me. This also became my version of the current ice-bucket challenge as heaps of snow dumped on me as I moved from tree to tree. Satisfaction as the branches lifted off the ground, back into the air. It struck me how helpless the branches were, totally dependant on someone to relieve them in this dilemma.
Thursday I met a new neighbour, who had witnessed my snow fun, she had also tried some shaking.
By Friday, most of the snow had melted and I wondered if it had made any significant difference-even though I saw an immediate change-but maybe they wouldn’t have broken, and maybe it would all have been okay, and maybe I did prevent a few broken limbs … and maybe it does not matter if I know. All appeared back to normal.

In my life I have had both snow shakers,IMG_6362 and ice breakers, people that chipped away the cold, shook me out of the doldrums and lifted the spirits. I am eternally grateful for those people.
And now I have the privilege to play it forward, for others weighed down.

Worry weighs us down, a cheerful word picks us up. Prov 12:28 The Message

An anxious heart weighs a man(woman too) down, but a kind word cheers him(her) up. NIV

Pick Me Up, I’m Falling Again

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IMG_5699Autumn is the mellower season, and what we lose in flowers we more than gain in fruits.”
― Samuel Butler
Is it just me, or does fall come more quickly every year?
The overachiever tree along my bike path turned yellow a week ago and by now has dropped most of his leaves, unaware that the world is not quite ready for its glory. The back to school busses have increased the local traffic, but at least a few tired moms smile with the return of school structure.
Thankfully I haven’t seen the geese heading in the other direction, I might have to shoot them.
When I lived in Australia for two years, I realized that I actually missed the distinct changes of season. It was hard to complain when every day was near paradise. The Ozzie’s lame lament about their cold was spitting in the wind. The first winter proved to match temperatures with the prairie summer I had left behind. My school teacher sister had been reluctant to miss summer to visit me down under in the cold season, only to discover that an Australian winter was similar to a Canadian prairies’ summer.
I think each passing fall makes me realize I am truly more in the autumn of life than spring or summer. I have matured into foliage.IMG_5640
Having grandkids could be considered one of the qualifications. Instead of begrudging autumn’s arrival, lamenting the lost long summer days, I want to choose to embrace the season’s gifts. I enjoy the settled peace of September. Fall brings it’s own new beginnings … unlike the artificial New Year, where I feel coerced into resolutions of new direction.
Fall transitions naturally … the change in weather invites me to try something new, read a book, try a course, dust off my hobbies. I stopped at the Michael’s craft store on a cloudy day this week, and with forecasts of single digit for next week, I bought a knitting book! Not any knitting mind you, but arm knitting, it’s a loose weave, where the upper limbs turn into a kind of giant cat’s cradle game. She must be going bonkers, I was thinking of myself, as the negative voices in my head chastise me for starting something new again, that I might not finish. And I talk back, it is better to start ten things with enthusiasm, perhaps finish one of them, than not start at all. Much of the enjoyment comes from the possibilities of the dream, I could envision lovely scarves.

DSC_0962I recognize an unspoken longing that perhaps this next season will meet expectations, that desires be met, and I realize This is Life. Live it as it is, where it is, in this moment, in this season. I cannot go backwards in time … I don’t know what lies ahead, but I have this day. I choose to make the most of it.

All photos by Jocelyn

Silence & Sacred Idleness

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Work is not always required …there is such a thing as sacred idleness, the cultivation of which is now fearfully neglected.

George MacDonald
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Silence is scary … I am left with my own thoughts. The voices in my head.
I think one of the reasons technology does well is that few people want to be alone with their thoughts. In fact it’s difficult to get the peace and quiet to be in that space. Being (Over)busy, has become the accepted hallmark of value and approval.
But when something desperate or traumatic happens in life, be it a big or small desperation, the necessity of silence and the need to address the inner voices becomes inescapable. At that time I have the power to stifle the voices, to run from them, or to ask them – what is it I really need to learn from you?
Being alone with my thoughts … I confess to not minding my own company … I value times of silence. A dear sister and I expressed the mixed fear and delight of becoming these eccentric mature ladies-didn’t want to say old. I would be vividly odd, and she would be cerebrally offbeat, and strangely enough we think it would be ok. It’s the freedom to not care what others think anymore, and the urgent desire to listen to and give voice to that too long silenced inner self. One of my favourite images comes from a U2 song line …
she is running to stand still.
Be still and know that I am God ….IMG_5687
Those were the words that came to me many years ago, in the middle of a snow storm … My daughter Kristen and I were speaking at a Mother Daughter retreat … and I was contemplating the busyness of life, a possible new career direction, or a decrease of same. Options weighed on my mind as I took a short walk in a Nov snow storm and came to a clearing in the woods … in that small magical space, snow whirled all around me and here I was …. Calm and Silent, as though I was in the eye of the storm. The silence spoke powerful peace into my soul … and the ancient words came to mind …. Be STILL and KNOW that I am God. How could I know? I’d been so busy running, flapping on the spot … the way I see the ravens in a strong wind … flapping before they soar.
At that moment I knew I could not take on one more thing, as good as it was.
I often remember what the silence of the snowstorm did for my soul.
No longer do I apologize for my time to sit by the river, to absorb the beauty, to let the chaos of mind seep out of my body.
Although it’s been a tad hard to buck the norm, I have never regretted a moment of Sacred Idleness . IMG_7562_2

Silence does not exist in our lives merely for its own sake.
It is ordered by something else. …
Silence is the strength of our interior life.
Silence enters into the very core of our moral being.

Thomas Merton
from his book No Man is an Island

Tribute Tarries

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(Photo by Joel Krahn, African River tributaries)

Like a river that flowed and reached into dry corners
she spread her love and acceptance
Beneath Martha she hid her Mary soul
But that woman, she knew how to clean ….
She opened both her well vacuumed home and her heart …
Her brother said, her walls always had a window,
a window that had been recently cleaned …
She loved, she accepted, she cared, she stayed in touch …
All spokes led to the mamma … the hub of the family.
I don’t think she ever missed a game.
She was loyal, caring, kind
Her faith always practical
Thank you for being my friend.

The initial message of her passing came via email … and said that she “had gone to her eternal rest.” One thing I know about my friend, she wouldn’t want to be in eternal rest. She was an active person. I don’t think rest is what Heaven’s about. I used to wonder about eternity … if it was going to be forever anyways, I saw no rush to get there. But after I had two term deposits, my perspective changed. Randy Alcorn’s book, Heaven, paints a phenomenal picture of experience and beauty, an exciting future he believes will greet us upon arrival. He is convinced that we continue on in our creativity, and work in the eternal future. Somehow, I don’t think my friend will be vacuuming her days away.

IMG_6150While kayaking last week, heavy with thoughts of my friend’s life, and the upcoming funeral, I saw the most exquisite flowers, unlike any I had ever seen before, what made them so unique? They were underwater. I have seen enough seaweed and lily pads, to know this was exceptional … I kayaked over the clear blue green mountain lake waters again, to be sure my eyes had not deceived … yes, there a few feet below the water glass top, tiny yellow and white flowers smiled up at me … the water dimmed their colours, but they truly were blooming where planted. What a picture of hope for me … under the ocean of grief new flowers can bloom.
The reason I like Sudoku is that there are nine squares, nine numbers fill those squares, only one way to do it. Simple, clean, no deep mystery.
Grief is not like that.
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Emily Dickinson says:
On subjects of which we know nothing, we both believe and disbelieve a hundred times an Hour, which keeps Believing nimble.