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Missing: You Don’t Know What You’ve Got ’til it’s Gone

I miss singing. I had no idea this would ever be something I would miss. But, now that it’s practically illegal (who actually comes up with this shit?!?!), I miss it so much.

It’s not even the signing I miss as much as the unity/unison I could experience through it. I’m not a singer by any stretch, not really even in the shower, but I used to sing every week at church with about a thousand other people, maybe more. There is something about signing in praise and worship, it’s called heart coherence, that feels amazing.

I don’t think I could specifically say “I think I’m missing the feeling of coherence,” if I wasn’t intentionally conscious of my mental, emotional and spiritual state. I don’t think it’s one of those immediately obvious things you know you are missing, like food on the other hand––you know when you are missing food because your stomach likes to remind you with a very noticeable grumble. No, this is more like a deep yearning of the soul kind of missing; aching to create unity and harmony with other people. I know I can do that each time I meditate, and I still do that, but I guess I’m just missing the whole experience of it: the crowds, the music, the singing, feeling God right there in the midst of us.

I’m sure, because of my somewhat rebellious nature, that part of this also has to do with the simple fact that we’ve been “told” not to sing, so naturally that’s what I want to do. “Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.” “What? What curtain? What man? Where? I wanna see!” It’s like, “No singing!” “Do, Re, Me, Fa, So…. what were you saying?”

So, I have decided that, in addition to the personal growth things I am focusing on during meditation, I am going to set aside special time, even if it’s just a few minutes while I’m drifting off to sleep, to visualize and really feel and experience what it would be like to be singing at church again. And I am going to do this everyday until we’re physically “allowed” to again.

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Haircut

I got my haircut yesterday––yes, I know, I’m a rebel. Or maybe the person who cut my hair is a rebel. Maybe we both are. Personally, I see nothing criminal about getting a haircut, but the way things are going these days, people are being treated like criminals for a heck of a lot less; just for daring to breathe freely while buying groceries, for example.

But anyway, that’s not what this post is about. Because I went and got my bootleg haircut, my eight-year-old daughter wanted one too. And, because you can’t just go out and get a haircut these day, she wanted me to do it.

Aside from the haircut I gave my two-year-old sister when I was four, and maybe the infamous self-directed bangs that seem to be a rite of passage for all teenage girls, I have never cut hair. What I can appreciate here in this situation is my daughters complete confidence in my ability to give her what she wants. I told her I have basically zero experience in cutting hair and that I had to first see if I even still had the pair of old hairstyling shears which, despite the fact that I never cut hair, I do still have. (Ask me where they came from, I couldn’t really tell you; probably my dad because he seems to think it’s important to be prepared for every situation with items that you would rarely use otherwise––thanks Dad!) Nonetheless, none of these minor attempts to discourage the idea that I should be the one to cut her hair deterred my daughter.

I watched a few videos about how to layer hair and how to cut curly hair, etc. I know a thing or two about taking care of curly hair thanks to my own curls, but I never cut my own hair. However, we are in extraordinary circumstances and I’m sure many people have resorted to experimenting with things they never would have otherwise. One of the beautiful things about this is that I am learning that I am capable of so much more than I have given myself credit for.

So I cut the girls hair. I did it. I decided not to go too short so that we’d have room to get it fixed if I totally botched it. But guess what? It turned out very well! If I had a day-job I wouldn’t be quitting it, as the saying goes. But, my daughter trusted me with her look and I did something new because of it. After I cut it, we washed her hair and I showed her how to properly care for curly hair––because up to this point she would just brush it into a frizz. We washed it with special shampoo to clean it up, then washed it with conditioner to help smooth the frizz. I showed her that a more delicate, smooth towel, or even an old t-shirt to squeeze out the excess water will reduce frizz. We put in a special curl cream and then diffused it. I showed her a whole new routine; it was time just for the two of us. And she gets to go back to school with a “new look” after the Christmas break.

Sometimes, being a mom can feel like a thankless job. But moments like this make me realize how much she values me, my input and the little things I can do to care for her. And that is a gift.

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The Best Thing

The best thing just happened to me. Maybe not the best thing EVER, but definitely amazing for the times we are living in.

There is a smaller-than-average Walmart near my house. Now I know many people are saying “stop giving Walmart your money” and other such stuff. But the truth is, during this whole “pandemic” I have not had any issues at this little Walmart; most people are just there to get what they need and get out. People don’t mess with you if your mask or scarf isn’t suffocating you to their liking, or scold you for walking the “wrong way” in the aisles, mostly people living their lives, just like me.

Today, I went to pick up a few things for New Years Eve, and a few things to carry us into the first week of January so I wouldn’t have to make a big shopping trip right away. Of course, I ended up putting a lot more than I planned into my basket and it was a bit of a balancing act getting over to the checkout. I had a full basket on one arm and a handful of chips in the other when one of my boxes of crackers fell to the floor in a busy intersection of the store (thankfully not many people around). And as I’m thinking to myself “How am I going to make this work?” an older gentleman who saw it happen, walks over, picks it and places it back into my basket. There was a bit of gracious chit chat along with smiles and thank yous muffled by my “mandatory” scarf, but it was an otherwise normal, friendly pre-scamdemic interaction.

Then, at the checkout, because I had loaded so much stuff into my basket, I had to tell the friendly cashier that I may have bitten off more than I can chew because I only had so much cash with me. He was super patient and friendly, chatting with me the whole time, and I did end up having to leave some stuff behind. As I was sorting through what was more essential and what I could leave behind, looking for the last item that would bring my total under the amount of cash I had, he says, “Don’t worry, if you have $75 I’ll cover the rest.” The rest was $1.82, not a huge amount, but he did that for me and it was amazing. Understand, it’s not because I don’t have the money, I had just left my wallet at home. It was amazing because kindness seems to be a rarity these days, and I said as much to him. His small act of kindness, along with the other gentleman who helped me with my full basket, made that shopping trip an amazing experience.

I used to really enjoy doing the grocery shopping, now it’s a source of stress to go out and see all the people subjected to this forced masking and ridiculous rules about what is essential and what is not (according to who???), people shaming each other for tiny infractions––things that, under normal circumstances, would not be considered infractions at all, like breathing air with your face uncovered, for example. But today, I got to experience the kindness of ordinary strangers and it made my day.

I was so tickled by the whole experience that I smiled all the way home. One lady who had to stop for me at the stop sign signalled me to cross, a bit exasperatedly at first, but because I could not get the grin off my face as I walked by she cracked a big smile too. And others smiled and nodded from their vehicles, neighbours passing on the sidewalk returned my big smile and said hello. It was one of those moments when the clouds part and the sun shines and literally everything feels right in the world. Just amazing! Thank you so much kind people! Thank you God. Thank you Universe. Thank you, thank you, thank you for that amazing experience!

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Signs

Do you believe in signs and communication from the other side, the afterlife, the spiritual realm? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a ghost or had one speak to me, but I do think there are ways that sometimes our loved ones reach out and communicate with us. Probably it’s not even reserved for those who have passed away, but also for those people that we have a soul connection to.

This Christmas, I was really being reminded of my grandma and the warm, loving presence she always was (is) in my life. Though I may not physically have her in my life anymore, it seems as though the universe conspired to send me little hints of her, this year especially. First, there was the box of Cadbury chocolate covered cookie fingers someone had gifted to my husband; then, there was the homemade Christmas candy that my grandma always used to make. I thought about trying to get the recipe for it this year, and my aunt gifted me some, out of the blue; I hadn’t even mentioned to her that I’d been thinking of the recipe. And then, my dad gave me a beautiful red poinsettia for Christmas––my grandma always had to have a bright red poinsettia for Christmas, always, sometimes more than one.

A couple of years ago, I made a point of starting some of the traditions that made Christmas special for me with our kids. I commissioned some stockings that were similar to the ones that she always gave to us kids filled them with licorice allsorts, candy canes, mandarin oranges and Hershey’s kisses. This year I got everything but the kisses––as we all know, it’s been a weird year and I’ve been to the stores as little as possible, so I may have missed a few things.

Anyway, I really felt like she was saying Hi to me this year. My grandma never imposed, she just always had a way of being there, a constant comfort. Her place was where I went anytime I needed to decompress, let my hair down or just be in good company. I think of her often and, with all those signs, I felt like she really wanted me to know that she was thinking of me too; a constant comfort, just as always.

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Grandma

I was close to my grandma. Growing up, my sister and cousins and I spent many long summer days on her farm. When we moved to the city and my parents were in the process of splitting up, she came in to the city and brought us out to the farm every weekend for months. Later, when I had my driver’s license and lived on my own, and she lived in town, I’d often pack up for the weekend and go out to visit Grandma. We played lots of canasta, other card games too, but mostly canasta; she was always ready to play the rubber, (that’s what we called the tie-breaker game), and so was I.

My grandma was a woman of few words, and she didn’t mince the ones she spoke either. She often had these great, quippy responses that we called “zingers.” Example:

  • Grandma’s friend: Hello Alma, how are you?
  • Grandma: I’m all right.
  • Friend: You look good.
  • Grandma: Well, good-looking people always do all right!

Grandma had a way of expressing herself without coming across judgmental; she wasn’t judgmental––unless it was all going on in her head, but I couldn’t tell. She knew a lot but never ever was a know-it-all. I think she tucked a lot away in her heart, kept her deepest thoughts just between herself and God. She was just a brilliant woman.

I don’t think I ever saw her cry; she was always jolly. But, having lost two children, both at young ages, I know she knew heartache too. Maybe she was what people would call stoic, I think she anchored herself and pulled strength from her Lord and saviour, Jesus Christ. As long as I knew her, she woke up every morning, had half a banana and some bran flakes and read her Bible. Maybe the breakfast changed, but I don’t think the Bible reading ever faltered. We sang Rock of Ages at her funeral; she had told one of us cousins that it was her favourite hymn.

My grandpa passed away, about 20 years before her, he had been ill for some time––Parkinson’s, so I know she was ready to say goodbye, maybe that’s why she didn’t cry. Maybe she did cry, later on when no one but God could see her. I don’t think she was “hiding it” so much as that was just the way she was. She laid her hand on top of his at the viewing, and I just felt like she was saying “I’ll see you when I get there.” (His headstone reads, “I will meet you in the morning.”)

It’s going on six years since she passed away. It was early in the morning on Friday, February 13, 2015. I have always liked Friday the 13th. I know some people are superstitious, but it has never felt like bad luck to me. I was fortunate to have seen her and said goodbye the afternoon before, along with two of my girls, and two of my aunts. (I say fortunate because now in 2020, lots of older people are dying alone since no one will let their family members in to see them because of this “pandemic”–– the injustice of it all is sickening.) She passed away peacefully in her sleep and we got to say “I love you” to each other before she left.

Her health had declined significantly in her last 5 years, and I think it had finally come to a point where death was a welcome relief for her. She had said to me years before that, maybe 15 years earlier or so, that she was ready whenever the Good Lord wanted to take her. Not that she wanted to die, just that she was totally at peace with it.

I have nothing but good memories of her. She taught me my first card game at just 5 or 6 years old––it was Skip-Bo, “Come here,” she said, “I’m gonna teach you a game.”

I miss her. Especially at Christmas time and other holidays. Grandma’s house was always the gathering place. Easter, Mother’s Day, Thanksgiving, her birthday, and Christmas. And anytime in between–-she always said, “sure, come on over,” anytime I called her up to see if I could come out to spend a night or two. I remember her laugh. I remember she always had this wonderfully mischievous look on her face and a smile she just couldn’t contain whenever she was trying to get away with something in a card game or a silly joke that she may have been trying to keep to herself. I remember many sunny days climbing trees at the farm, eating as many crab apples as we desired, picking kohlrabi fresh from the garden; family gatherings, and the legendary “Liverball” (maybe that’s another story for another time).

I am SO LUCKY to have had her in my life. A person like her is a game changer, for sure.

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It’s Just a Phase

Please tell me it’s just a phase. Logic tells me it’s just a phase, but long days and short years feel otherwise; my kids are bickering all the time! Ok, maybe not all the time, but let’s say 95% of their waking time together in our house. Again, I could have a biased point of view here, (insert eye-roll), but nevertheless, it feels non-stop.

Does anyone else notice this: there’s three of them and when all three of them are together it’s non-stop bickering, but when there’s only two of them it’s quite nice. Is this like an odd-number thing? If there were four of them would it be different? Maybe, but I’m not planning to find out!

How do I make it stop? Can I make it stop? Maybe what’s more important is, what can I learn from this situation? One of the factors that played into wanting lots of kids, (I have four in total, but the oldest does not fall into this bickering squad), was because I am fascinated by learning about people, their personalities, what makes them tick, what they like and dislike, everything. I love getting to know people; I’ll be getting to know these kids all my life.

Life has a way of giving you exactly what you need. A dear friend of mine told me something along the lines of “You either marry or give birth to what you need to work on.” (I think it was something a friend said to her so sorry I’m not quoting the source, kudos to you, Wise Person, whoever you are!) Not to say you have to work on the people in your life, but rather that they reflect back to you your own issues that need attention. Couple that with the very real reality that it’s also your responsibility to help shape the children you choose to raise into conscious adults that can make wise choices for themselves and society, and you can see why most of us are in for an eye-opener when we take on the task of raising children.

We are having lots of talks about kindness lately. Lots of reminders that each day and each argument is an opportunity to practice kindness and patience. Almost constant reminders that each of us is responsible for our own choices, not the choices of others, and that we always have the choice to choose kindness––sometimes I fail at this, too. I’m still a work in progress, and these days I have plenty of opportunities to practice patience!

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Control

So 2020 is almost over, and this year has been a real ride. It’s not over yet and I’m sure there are still many more surprises to come as we have basically entered a decade of challenges; challenges to the systems that are no longer working and/or serving us; challenges to the way we do things and the challenges that go along with adapting to new ways of doing things. And most of all, challenges to the way we think, feel, grow and change.

Many people are still choosing to live in the consciousness of fear and the invisible killer virus that isn’t really killing more people than would already die in an average year. But for most people that would even be reading this blog, many of us have realized this is all about control, or rather fear of the loss of control by those who currently possess it and an ever unquenchable thirst for more.

The one question that has been on my mind lately is “What is this need for control?” Why are there people who want to know everything about everything we do? What is this weird need/desire for them to reach in and have access to literally every facet of our lives? Why do they want to know about all our little habits and nuances to be able to market to us more efficiently and control our every movement for profit that can’t be taken with them when they die anyway? What happened to raising up people who would believe in themselves and who would subsequently do better and be better for society?

This need/desire to be in control has created problems that require evermore elaborate “solutions”, like the helicopter parent that has to forever be present because the need to control every circumstance has stifled the growth that would otherwise have superseded the need for control in the first place.

I once worked for someone who I noticed would become much more micro-managerial whenever they were more stressed about some issue that they had no control over––the seeming loss of control in one area would cause them to grasp for control in other areas, making things very uncomfortable, often creating more senseless work for others in their environment. Isn’t it interesting that our need for control causes us to grasp tighter thereby causing more havoc that we then feel also needs to be controlled?

It’s not new, but I found this need most recently in myself during a healing session for a rather intense pain in my arm. What was I not wanting to let go of? What was I trying to hold so tightly in my grip that it was causing pain in my physical body? (Thank you, Body, for that awareness. Thank you for bringing this to my attention so I could now let it go along with the pain it was causing.)

The thing is, control is an illusion anyway. Trying to hang on to it is like grasping play-dough in your fist, the tighter you squeeze, the more it oozes out of every little crack. How much more fun and creativity can we enjoy and express when we just allow it to flow and begin to take form and shape on its own?

The paradox is that the more we let go the more “control” we have. It’s the point where control makes way for surrender and surrender makes way for flow and flow makes way for ease. What else is possible when we give up the need for control?

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Grief

I’m not sure exactly when I realized that grief was for more than just mourning the loss of people who are no longer in our lives. It was probably after I’d had what we, as BodyTalkers, call a Big Four Shift, (more about that in future posts). It was such a big shift in my thinking and perspective, and I had to process a really heavy sadness; I was grieving.

It was then I realized that we can grieve identities, old ways of thinking, and missed opportunities, real or perceived, (also known as regret). We grieve the loss of familiar patterns. You could even say that our physical bodies grieve the loss of the familiar chemical patterns they’ve grown used to, produced by the emotions we are used to experiencing on a regular basis*.

In its natural healthy state, grief serves a great purpose for us. It helps us to let go of attachments to what is no longer serving us. The problem is, though, that grief can be very uncomfortable and we seem to be caught up in the idea of trying to always feel happy and positive. Instead, we can learn to feel the things that are uncomfortable and know that not only is it normal, but it is actually essential to our growth. It is essential to let go of what no longer serves us.

Pureed carrots are great for babies, but can you imagine eating that forever?! It’s nice to have your parents drive you around, but it’s also nice to have the freedom to drive yourself around, too, even if the initial process of learning how to drive feels foreign and requires all your attention. These types of growth and changes are typically the kind we are motivated and excited to do.

But what about the growth and change that life expects of us? The kind that allows us to step into the destiny we came here to live? The types of growth and challenges that life nudges us into, situations that make us uncomfortable, that are even painful, sometimes gut-wrenching heart-break. The saying goes, “What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.” Some of us die a slow death, though, never being able to fully let go. A healthy processing of grief makes us stronger when we feel all the feels and then let go. I love how William Lee Rand says it: “One could even say that the purpose of life is to grow and develop.”

And, this is not something we do once. We are continually asked to let go. Life continues to challenge us. I have learned to ask, what am I needing to let go of here? What can I grow into here? There are times when I’ve been at the lowest of lows. There are still times, when I dip low. And when I realize I’m there, I also realize how alive I am, and that, even though I’m in the depths, it feels so amazing to know that I feel this way simply because I can feel, because I’m here having this experience. And then I remember that I’m learning. I’m letting go and I’m growing.

*for more about this, see the book Becoming Supernatural by Dr. Joe Dispenza

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Gratitude

I was already having a great day. I’d had a morning zoom meeting that went really well and left me feeling very encouraged. I had a series of productive meetings and calls after that. It was a beautiful, albeit cold, day and I was planning a delicious dinner.

I had just picked up my youngest from preschool and while the older two were off somewhere else in the house, I had a quiet moment to sit with my little one in my lap while she finished off her veggies from her afternoon snack.

I held her and watched her while she quickly and quietly chomped each of her carrot sticks. It was a very mundane moment, but I was only feeling how lucky I was to be holding her in that moment and just enjoying her presence, and being fully present with her. I wasn’t thinking about anything else. I wasn’t rushing around to get dinner made, or running through a mental list of all the things I still had to do that evening. I was just being, and so was she.

In moments like those, it feels like everything that I can possibly feel grateful for is converging all at once and it’s so big. How is it possible that I am here? That we are here, having this experience? And the very reality that I am here having this experience is enough to feel immensely grateful.

If life has taught me anything, it’s that I am so grateful that I have the capacity to feel and to experience life. Even when those those feelings and experiences are heavy and difficult and I wonder, in the moment, if I’ll ever come out of it. In those moments, I go back to gratitude for the simple fact that I can feel it and experience it. And even more gratitude for knowing that I have always lived to see the other side of grief.

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Social Media

A few weeks ago, I deleted the Facebook app from my phone. I wouldn’t say I was a person who obsessively checked my phone, mostly just at night before going to bed, or to respond to messages. The problem was that the stuff I was reading/seeing was just too “charged”.

I haven’t deleted the Instagram app yet, but I barely check it any more. I just don’t care about the likes. Facebook in particular was starting to have this really “slimy” feel to it. Now that I’ve taken a few steps back from Facebook, it has a totally different feel to it––I feel almost repulsed by it. It’s kind of like when I used to smoke and so the cloud of smoke in the club (a long time ago when indoor smoking was still a thing) and I didn’t really notice the smell of it on my clothes, until I didn’t smoke anymore. Now I realize how gross it smells.

I have had SO MUCH more peace in my life since I got rid of that app. I haven’t completely dismantled my online profile yet, (though I intend to as I do not wish to be complicit in the censorship taking place on the bigger platforms that seem to think it’s okay to tell everyone what to think). But, wow, what a difference it makes to not be fed the fear-mongering on a daily basis. And that’s what it’s called, a social media “feed”, interesting. What is nourishing you?

It feels like I’ve broken through chains. Isn’t it amazing that your thought life and what you are feeding your spirit and soul can have such an effect on your outlook and mindset?

I have gone back to reading more books again, actual books, like the kind made of paper. There really is a difference–I suspect the blue light effect has something to do with that, too. I have been listening to more podcasts and faith-boosting teachings. I feel stronger mentally and spiritually, and I have more energy too. It just feels like I can breathe again.