Category Archives: Nature

What are you waiting for?

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Summer is not waiting for me to catch up, I must catch her. This is the only summer of 2016, realize how precious and fleeting she is. Hold her hand, dance in her flower meadows … laugh with a child, blow bubbles, sprinkle in the water, dip your toes in and get wet. Don’t waste a single moment. When the heart is light, this advice is easy to take, when the heart is heavy, laughing and dancing seem far away.

But I have discovered that as I choose to smile, to dance to dawdle … to breathe in the mountain air,IMG_1541 something happens to me …  a revitalization, a realization that life still has much beauty to unfold. When beauty asks me to dance, I should get off the couch.

Beauty is found everywhere, it is ours for the viewing, ours for participating in. It has a way of enlarging the soul. I was talking to my 92 year old mother, who enjoys the view of two large poplar trees from her deck, that and her flower pots are what make her smile on a summer day as she sits in the sunshine. And then she will say, before you know it, the snow will be coming. Oh yes, so for this day I ask you the question Mary Oliver has in her poem …

The Summer Day

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?IMG_0375
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

—Mary Oliver

Breathe in the prayer of summertime and exhale joy … Happy Summer!

IMG_8990“So you must match time’s swiftness with your speed in using it, and you must drink quickly as though from a rapid stream that will not always flow.” 

― Seneca, On the Shortness of Life

Kayaking photo by Catherine-thanks.

Of Boogie Boards and Mermaids

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The cure for anything is salt water – sweat, tears, or the sea.             Isak Dinesen

IMG_2157In three days time, I will be on the coast of North Africa. For thousands of years this land has intrigued and invited people to take part in the rituals and magic of life by the sea. Remains of ancient Roman villas, public baths and libraries remind me that others have walked those places before me. Their footsteps have all washed away, as will mine. But while I am in that space, while I am in any space I want to live and breathe the energy it gifts to those who are open.

I connect with Jill Davis’ line about the waves of the sea help me get back to me.

My grandchildren explore unmarked ruins, dip their toes into clear waters of the Mediterranean and barbecue hot dogs along blonde sandy shores. There is a sense of infinity as cerulean blue of sky and water blend into each other. Earth meets sky as thoughts of infinity and divinity merge together on the distant horizon … The land of hopes, dreams and mosaic memories.

And my bags are packed to the gills. Last summer I bought boogie boards for the grandchildren’s visit to my Canadian home, but we experienced end-of-summer-snow and warm campfires. Now the crazy thought to take the boards to North Africa had entered my head, and after a request for life jackets came from across the ocean, my decision was made. Even though my grandchildren live by the sea, my son-in-law could not find life jackets in the local stores. We may be over safetied here in Canada, but they are definitely under the mark. This just meant a second checked in bag … There are times I try to travel light, with only one checked in bag, but when considering gifts for the grandkids and their safety … some of the reasoning went by the sea side.IMG_2250

Certain things make me feel small – mountains and oceans are definitely in that category – especially oceans as they seem to have no beginning or end. Their vastness, can be calm or unrelenting. They not only make me feel small, but they give me a sense of the bigger picture, and my place in it. And the reality that all the trivial daily fussing is not worth its energy. There is a much grander scale of life beyond the routine. There is also an infusion of sacred in the ordinary. Mother Theresa said: We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop.

I can hardly wait to stand by the sea, to feel the water on my toes.

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Mermaid image by: quotesville.com

Jocelyn is the author of Who is Talking Out of My Head, Grief as an Out-of-Body Experience

Learning to Live the Loss

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IMG_1410If there were a day to strike from the calendar—Feb 27 would be that day for me—a day three of the most beautiful young people on the planet departed, eleven years ago. Every day in the news, I hear of events that would make others wish to erase another day.

As I type, a reminder pops up in the corner of my computer screen- A day to get through. A month ago I typed those words on this day. Now it asks me if I want to close or snooze—could erase be an option?

I find that the dread of a day can be worse than the day itself. As I was writing in my journal the day before, I decided music should be a part of this preparation. “All right, God—you can select the songs.” I put the setting to random. I never know what will play, usually a mixture of spiritual, folk, John Fogarty, Christmas carols, and my foreign language lessons. I had the sneaky suspicion I was trying to put God to the music test,  just to see if He was listening.

The first song takes me back to when my now-in-heaven-daughter was thirteen. This was a signature song for her that year. Through the register vents Twyla Paris would sing: God is in control, we will choose to remember and never be shaken, there is no power above or below. Oh-oh-oh God is in control. That is a great start. I could not have picked better.

The next song is from the Christmas album given by that same daughter her last Christmas, and Sue Chick sings … Heaven comes down, the hearts of men rise … do we dare take a chance … and the heart longs for more. Then Steve Bell tells me that Into the darkness we must go, gone, gone is the light.

And I notice increased number of age spots on the hand that holds the pen. I sit there thinking this is kind of silly and any moment the Arabic lesson would come through. I was interrupted by a call from the florist for a delivery. But, song after song encouraged me. At song 14, I thought perhaps I should get on with my day. Johnny Reid finishes the set of fifteen with I left my hometown years ago … to let all this love surround me. I would have said, to let all this beauty surround me. And I realize Love and Beauty often feel synonymous. Both are heavenly gifts. I contemplate the power of the words, and the themes of love, loss and suffering … songwriters capture the struggles we have. Music soothes and inspires, it reminds me that I am not in control, I am not alone on the journey, and I must continue. Sauntering in sacredness is an option.

I sent my sister-in-law a thank you for the flowers, she responded with an email about an image she had of new green shoots coming forth. Later that afternoon, I went for a walk … and found a likeness of her vision:IMG_1961

Never before have I seen shoots in February. These green and burgundy shoots brimmed with hope of new life. For this day, I head to the mountains, to contemplate the gifts of the journey … and to sit in the beauty, this is what I left my hometown for.

From John O’Donohue’s book Beauty, a poem by Dietrich Boenhoffer:

The Unfilled Gap

Nothing can fill the gap                                                                                                  When we are away from those we love and it would be                                    Wrong to try to find anything                                                                                      

Since leaving the gap unfilled preserves the bond between                                   Us. It is nonsense to say that God fills the gap.                                                           

He does not fill it but keeps it empty, so that our communion                          With another may be kept alive even at the cost of pain.

Summertime Blues (the cure)

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We unlearn desire. Quietly, over time, we succumb to the dependable script of the expected life and become masters of the middle way … after a while we no longer even notice the pathways off to the side … John O’Donohue (Beauty)

“The summer is almost over,” my 91 year old mother declares with authority on our weekly Sunday IMG_4182phone call. I already know her next line: “Before you know it, it’s going to snow. It will be Christmas.”

A writing course had occupied my spring and when I hit “Submit” for my final paper on June 30, I also hit “Break Free” for the summer … and here she states the truth: Summer is Short.

In Canada it is very short, and also the reason it is full of outdoor activity. Canadians know its brevity. As if to verify my mother’s words the picture of last September’s snow came to mind. For the sake of the course, I had put off my summer and now my days were numbered.

Three days ago I picked up a friend from the airport, who is returning to be in the presence of an aunt in the final stages of cancer. The struggle was closing in. Last summer, another dear friend lost the battle with a heart issue, her family motherless before the end of August.

Oh the summertime blues. The life time blues … it comes and it goes. Life, breath, beauty, flowers, illness and departure; like the river current moving toward a final destiny.

My own grandchildren come to visit in a week. I have been anticipating this time for what seems ages, and before I write my next blog that moment-in-the-sun will have passed.

The elusive speedy nature has me either lamenting or rejoicing.

So what will I do now that the summer is almost over? … I plan to enjoy every remaining moment as much as I can. It begins with cleaning off of my small patio, setting up the deck water fountain, planting the flowers I got on the end of the season sale.

I want to build good memories that will warm those cold winter days. I want to connect with nature as much as I can. Listen to the music. Enjoy the richness with those that cross my path. There is only one summer of 2015. I want to smell the flowers.

Above all else, I want to practice gratitude.

IMG_4084That gratitude that started July first, where in a moment of unprecedented Canadian patriotism, I joined a small town crowd for the raising of the flag, the singing of Oh Canada, the picture taking with two handsome red-suited mounties. To quote my mother: “I am so thankful for the country that we live in.” She is thankful; she has health care, she feels looked after. She feels safe. My only on-the-planet daughter lives in a region where recent terrorism has taken a deadly toll.

Below a black squirrel hops across the traffic filled street, only mindful that he needs to live in this summer moment, oblivious to the cars that will soon sweep his path … he pauses in the middle of the street, I think he winks at me and scurries to his destination. My pot of recently planted petunias smile at me in shades of blue-lavender. A dahlia from a friend adds the exclamation mark.

Life like summer is brief.  Gratitude precedes the joy … The thunder heads will roll in, we had hail on Saturday, but for this moment, this brief spell, I want to Be in The Beauty, the beauty of a summer morning ripe with anticipation.

It’s The Climb

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It’s about The Climb

Sunday afternoon with the promise of poutine to follow, I invited two international University of Calgary students to join me for a little walk. They come from Africa and want to experience as much of Canada as possible, on their meagre student budget. I can show them sections of the nearby Rocky Mountains. This particular hike, I did almost two years ago, and thought it to be fairly easy. Early on, the 27 year old from Malawi slightly short of breath states, we need to pace ourselves, and take time to enjoy the scenery. We come to a fork in the road.IMG_3298

They suggest the easy option, but I had read the reviews: the more difficult is the more scenic route. Since I am buying the poutine, they agree to go left. They have each had an intense year of studies, are here for the long haul, unable to return home, but thankful for technology which connects them to loved ones in Malawi and Zimbabwe. Our in-depth conversations have been labelled as DRDs—Deep Reality Discourses … we talk about life, the expectations of women in their countries, to be bearing children at this stage of life and the singleness issue. We talk about cultural differences, the loss of fathers for each of them, we always venture into spirituality. I love these DRDs.

And then we spot them … the wild orchids.IMG_3352

I take many photos, another hiker passes us, and I point them out to her. She and I marvel at their intricacy. My students admire them, but do not appreciate the rarity of the sighting. The hiker informs us of an owl nesting in a rocky opening at the top of the hike. She continues her way down and we continue our climb. We dip our hands in the mountain stream, drink of its water, the younger woman expresses her desire to spend a day with her journal next to the sound of a mountain waterfall. We marvel at the aqua green colour of the lake, and search for the great grey owl that appeared to have been waiting for us.IMG_4011

After the promised poutine rated as the best west of Montreal, (La Belle Patate) we return back to our normal lives,  feeling a slight connection to Miley Cyrus in knowing that there’s always gonna be another mountain and it ain’t how fast we get there, it’s The Climb. At the end of the day, students returned, I marvel at the beauty of the day, the gift of the orchids, the owls and that I could keep pace with these two young women.  I hope to return soon.

IMG_3995“I will not die an unlived life.

I will not live in fear
of falling or catching fire.
I choose to inhabit my days,
to allow my living to open me,

to make me less afraid,
more accessible;
to loosen my heart
until it becomes a wing,
a torch, a promise.
I choose to risk my significance,
to live so that which came to me as seed
goes to the next as blossom,
and that which came to me as blossom,
goes on as fruit.”

–Dawna Markova
― Dawna Markova, I Will Not Die an Unlived Life: Reclaiming Purpose and Passion

The Climb, sung by Miley Cyrus, written byJessi Alexander, Jon Mabe.

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.

Deadheading

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The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience.
Emily Dickinson

Deadheading begins with the head?
Earl Grey tea warms as I sit cozy on my balcony, Sarah Ban Breathnach’s book,IMG_5586 Simple Abundance, invigorates as hardy petunia’s smile at me, potted in shades of purple, pink, and white. I reach out to pick off the done blossoms. Sarah writes about her search for wholeness in the everyday epiphanies, the mystical in the mundane. This day she speaks of changing our clothes, our style, in order to keep the creativity alive. Not that out of date clothes are the factor, but the idea to allow the inner authentic self, to be expressed. Letting the inner child out is not a new concept, but is shed like a garment outgrown, in my need to be responsible, frugal, productive. A continuous mini-war goes on inside my head, how much I do for my own self nurturing … versus the belief that it is selfish to do so. “Selfish” is a very bad word in religious circles, it carries heavy judgment … But its judgement has come into question for me.
Many times I quote a favourite fridge magnet—Take my Advice I’m not Using It … at times it comes back to bite me. I do recognize the importance of others taking care of themselves, while hesitant to apply that to myself for fear of being “selfish.” It has been a continual balancing act … lately I’ve come to think of it less in terms of a rigid balance scale, and more as an ever moving line, a wave, a slow dance that responds to the music of life. Why am I trying to contain myself when I see all around me evidence that the creator is abundantly lavish in creativity, in beauty, in breaking His own rules.
The dried blossoms drop to the floor, are picked up by the wind, and carried away.

I see beauty and music as universal soul therapists. Fifty shades of sunsets clamour for attention. A week ago my sister came to visit; as I saw the sky IMG_6065change colours I said “We need to go right now!” After a quick drive to a higher ridge, we inhaled the the majestic mountain background, with ominous thunderheads to the south, a phenomenal lightning show, ecstatic, electric beauty that was available for all to see, but we were alone in the viewing.
Sometimes we need to go now, or we miss the moment.

Last weekend, sisters joined under and over the rain tarp as showers and sunshine competed, in a Rocky Mountain setting, while the Canmore Folk Festival provided music to set toes a tapping, and bodies swaying. It was a deadheading of the soul.
Words sung by Blues singer Guy Davis still ring in my ears “Had my old shoes on, got new shoes now, had my old clothes on, I got new clothes now and I feel like dancing.” The power house lines for me: “Was thinking my old thoughts, well I’m thinking some new thoughts now, and I feel like dancing.”
Warning—Deadheading leads to dancing.

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Difficult times have helped me to understand better than before how infinitely rich and beautiful life is in every way and that so many things that one goes worrying about are of no importance whatsoever.
Isak Dinesen