Category: 100 Days

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Friends

What does it mean to be friends with someone? Do you have to like the same things? Do stuff together? Agree on everything?

It’s hard to imagine a time more trying on friendships than 2020. Even close family members fell apart and went separate way. Friends we maybe thought we’d have for life suddenly seem so different and we find ourselves really coming to terms with which friendships are worth the effort of maintaining.

What do you do when things are otherwise amicable but one half of the friendship decides that the other half’s views are too different? The old, it’s not you, it’s me cliche formerly often used in romantic breakup comes to mind. Which, according to how things go these days, even that is a thing of the past; unfortunately “ghosting” is more common these days, and friendships can suffer breakups just like romantic relationships. But we don’t seem to talk about this much as a society, do we?

What does it look like when friends break up? When a romance breaks up one of the big questions is who keeps the friends? When friends breakup nobody does. And how do you know when it’s time to say goodbye? Often, it happens naturally and the friends drift apart. Sometimes you have a falling out, which can be very painful. Occasionally, one half decides to break it off rather abruptly with no explanation. But, how often do we ever sit down and have a conversation about where things our going with our friendships?

What would it look like if we were more intentional about our relationships? Not just the familial ones or the romantic ones, but the ones we call friendships, too? Have you ever had a conversation with a friend when it just became obvious to one or both of you that the friendship probably couldn’t last much longer without major efforts on one or both part? And, if it comes to this point, how do you decide if it’s worth it? If it’s at this point, is it worth it?

In our throw-away society, there’s a lot of potential for missed opportunities to really grow, and even shine, on the other side of difficult conversations. Too often we end the relationship because we convince ourselves that comfort is more valuable than the growth that is experienced on the other side of discomfort.

It may be that the friendship has run its course and we have received all that we were able to from that relationship. Even when this is the case, it’s still something to grieve. Something to appreciate. It is ok to mourn the loss of a friendship, even if it was dying of natural causes, and we need to give ourselves permission to do so. Grief, when taken with a healthy dose of gratitude, serves us in letting go and having appreciation for what was, and is no longer.

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Making Bracelets

I made my first semi-precious gemstone bracelet while at my very first BodyTalk course almost exactly three years ago. I actually made two bracelets that weekend while at the course; the instructor had a large selection of beads.

Until then I never paid much attention to rocks. I accompanied my sister to a rock show in the spring before that course and just kind of thought to myself, “what is the big deal?” I did find myself drawn to the malachite stones, but I just couldn’t bring myself to spend ten bucks on a little rock, “What’s the point? It’s just going to sit there and collect dust on my dresser. Rocks are silly.” I was telling myself whatever I needed to to not buy into this rock craze. “Some people fall for this kind of thing, but not me. Nonsense.” (I did end up leaving that rock show with one of those Himalayan salt lamps. I had a good reason though: my baby suffered from terrible eczema at the time and I was willing to try anything to make her atmosphere even a little bit better. But I don’t need rocks for myself, ridiculous!)

So when I found myself in front of that vast selection of rock beads at the BodyTalk course the next winter, I was still trying to play it cool, kind of. I wasn’t really planning to make anything, I was just going to hang around and chat on our break. The other participant in our small class, was really into it and asked if she could make a bracelet. And I found myself again drawn to the malachite, and I said so out loud. “So go ahead and make one” said the hostess; she was generous and let us go through her selection and make whatever bracelets we wanted at just the cost of the beads. What the heck, why not? After all, I was here for transformation wasn’t I? (Why was I so resistant to the rocks?)

I sat down, and before I knew it I was making a bracelet. I didn’t have anything specific in mind, I just let my intuition guide me and I made two beautiful bracelets over the course of that weekend; I also made one for my daughter, V, who at the time was 5 and would be having a birthday soon.

I love those bracelets and wore them almost exclusively for a whole year. Then a friend gifted me a beautiful bracelet almost exactly a year after that. She told me the lady she bought it from said the bracelet was called “Energia del Universo”, or energy of the universe. Wow! I wore that often too, until one day it got caught on something as I was unloading groceries and it broke, exploding all over the ugly floor of my dark garage. I managed to rescue most of the beads, I think all of the important ones that represented the planets and I have to add in a few other beads and spacers to make it complete again.

That same summer when my universe bracelet broke, I bought a beautiful Throat Chakra bracelet, with blue lace agate and crackle quartz and a dangle that said Laugh. That bracelet broke one day, too. I managed to find all the pieces and put it back together again, even though shortly after fixing it the dangle mysteriously got caught on something and catapulted somewhere in my bedroom––I still think I’ll find it again when the timing it right. That bracelet broke again not long after I fixed it. I was down in my basement beating the punching bag while wearing it and my other two first bracelets that I had made. The throat chakra bracelet was the only one that broke. I found out later that, at the time when it broke, a dear friend of mine was having a severe allergic reaction in the middle of a parking lot––she had lost her voice in more ways than one; the throat chakra is all about communication.

I have never had one of the bracelets that I’ve made fall apart or break, until today. I was wearing one that I made recently, within the last month. It was beautiful with Red Garnet and Red Tiger’s Eye, Amethyst and Rhodonite. But, earlier today I had been thinking that I should maybe remake it; it was a touch too small, I didn’t quite like the way it fit but I wasn’t really willing to take it apart because I wasn’t sure how to give it a better fit without fundamentally changing the pattern, which I liked very much. However, life was telling me it needed a change because it fell apart when I took it off. I managed to find all the pieces so tomorrow I will have to take a look at it. Red Garnet is about self-confidence and finding life’s purpose, issues that are staring me in the face these days as I am making lots of moves toward my dreams. Bold moves that I would not have dared to do before, but I’m stepping out in faith and not even my fear can stop me now.

Maybe at first I didn’t want to lend any truth or consideration that rocks could have their own properties and purposed because I didn’t know how to reconcile that with the religious teachings I’d been exposed to. But as I listen to the guidance of Holy Spirit, I am reminded of how all of creation sings God’s praises, and reminded of how very specific the instructions as to which stones should be laid into the breastplate of the High Priest in the Old Testament. As I have learned to open up to my intuition, I have developed a real joy of working with the beads and following the promptings I get to use certain stones or colours and specific combinations. Some people enjoy bracelets made of only one type of stone, that’s fine. I enjoy making a symphony of stones that are suited to the purpose they are to serve and the frequency they are to carry for the wearer.

I have made lots of bracelets now, since those first two. I have made plenty as custom orders or ones that I have premade and sold. I know that each of the stones have their own properties and always work intuitively with them. I love to do this for clients, too. When someone orders a custom bracelet for a specific purpose or person. I love to get feedback from people, like the client who was feeling a lot of anxiety and persecution, telling me that she feels so much calmer since wearing the bracelet I made for her. Or the lady from my dad’s work who wanted a bracelet to bring her good luck and good fortune for when she plays cards with her friends sending him a picture wearing the bracelet with her winnings in front of her, to name a few. I’m not a pro, I don’t have all the properties of all the stones memorized, I just follow my heart and put all my love into each of the bracelets as I make them and I truly believe the wearer of each one feels that as they wear them. I like knowing that each time they put on a bracelet I made, they are wearing a little piece of joy around their wrist.

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I Don’t Get It

I just can’t reconcile it in my mind. I can’t get the logic to line up: Why do so many people seem to be okay with the incredible violations to their rights and freedoms right now?

Why do so many people seem to think it’s ok to force another person to wear a mask over their face, when just a few years ago here in Canada, they were trying to ban burkas and other religious face coverings. Now suddenly everyone is supposed to wear them and just be okay with that? Why aren’t more women questioning this? I honestly wonder. So many women here in the Western world used to be appalled at the lack of freedom and rights of women in the muslim world––having to always be covered in public and yet here they are just willingly submitting to the same thing now.

Why do so many people seem to be willing to subject themselves to a very controversial, experimental injection without even really knowing what’s in it or what are the possible long term effects?

Do people just not understand or realize what they are giving up? Are people too tired to be responsible for themselves and their decisions? Maybe being a virtual robot won’t be so bad? I mean, I don’t want to end my life, but I certainly don’t want to live in a box not being allowed to make any decisions for myself. I want to choose for myself. I want to make my own choices. Why is that even considered a selfish thing? I’m not hurting anyone. I just want to live in peace. I just want to live my life. It seems like these people who are going along with this narrative just want someone else to live their lives.

I don’t have answers this time, I mean, I do, but I don’t. I get it that many people feel too overwhelmed and hopeless and maybe they feel like making decisions for themselves it just too stressful and too much work. Maybe it feels hard because they are scared to make the wrong choice––this to me is more an issue of being out of touch with Self. And yes, I understand that looking at yourself isn’t easy, but it is worth it.

I truly believe if more people were more in touch with their Self; tuned into and listening to the internal wisdom that is innate within all of us; if we could slow down and stop blocking it out with constant distraction and entertainment, we wouldn’t be in this mess right now. I truly believe that, as more people learn who to love and forgive themselves, this world will become a better place.

Until then, I just don’t get it.

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The Liver Ball

One of our favorite things to do at Grandma’s, which was more of an indoor game, something we played in the basement, was the Liver Ball game! The Liver Ball was a big, beach ball-sized rubber ball with a Mickey Mouse face on it. The game basically consisted of trying not to get touched by the Liver Ball, kind of like dodgeball but no teams, just wild chaos of desperately trying not to let the Liver Ball touch you.

Why was it called the Liver Ball? Who knows? Maybe because back then (1980s/90s) it was much more common for people to still have liver and onions for supper every now and then and everyone knows this is a kids worst dinnertime nightmare. Once we asked the aunts/uncles/older cousins, why it was called the Liver Ball and I think the story we got was because one time Grandma was in the kitchen preparing supper and a piece of raw liver fell on the ball! Told to us in the most hideous, spookiest of voices to be sure. I’m sure it was just a tall tale but it was enough to satisfy our need for a sense of adventure and disgust! The most thrilling of times to play Liverball was when my older cousin Chad would play, he was the only boy amongst us cousins; he was older, bigger and merciless. He would whip that Liverball around and you had better all run. There was no escaping and there was plenty of gleeful shrieking as we all scattered!

When Grandma moved away from the farm, (Grandpa had been sick with Parkinson’s for a while and it was just time to move into town to be closer to where he could have full time care), we had a big fire in the back yard; there was always a “burn pile” for stuff that didn’t go in the compost. All the stuff that wasn’t going with Grandma to her house in town, stuff that couldn’t be sold or given away, went to the burn pile. I suppose the most likely thing is that the Liverball went to the burn pile, but nobody remembers throwing it in there, or at least they didn’t admit to it. And since nobody knew what had happened to it, some decided to keep the legend of the Liverball alive by telling the kids it was stored in the crawl space under Grandma’s new condo… It wasn’t, though, we decided to put that rumor to rest one day by actually opening up the crawl space. For now, it’s another wonderful memory of the awesome childhood I enjoyed at Grandma’s farm, one of the best places on Earth!

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Summers at Grandma’s Farm

My summers at Grandma’s farm are some of my most cherished memories. I loved spending all day outside running around the yard with my sister and/or cousins.

I know memory is malleable so my memory of Grandma’s farm is always sunny. I suppose by law of averages it had to have been raining at least once or twice while I was there but I have no memory of that, just pure sunshine and happy days.

At Grandma’s farm there was a sandbox, which I don’t think we ever played in, but we used to walked around balancing on the narrow edges. There was a large, squeaky swing set that had one of those two-seater see-saw swings. My cousin called it the pee-pee squeezer because when you got going high enough the angle of the swinging poles met the metal of the seesaw poles and, if you were sitting close enough, well you can imagine!

My grandma had a very large garden that she would weed early in the mornings, she was always barefoot in the garden––I remember my her telling me about how she loved to run around barefoot, even though her father had spent good money to make sure all the kids had shoes, (she grew up in the Great Depression); I still remember the look on her face as she told me, I could tell she was reliving the joy of those barefoot moments while also appreciating the sacrifices her father had made to provide shoes. I mean, wow, it was a beautiful moment and I treasure that she shared it with me. She rarely spoke of her childhood or her past. She was very good at living in the moment.

There was also a long row of crab apple trees all along one side of the garden and my sister and/or cousins and I could spend all day outside, climbing those trees and eating as many apples as we wanted. We would pull kholrabi out of the garden and take it inside for Grandma to peel it for us so we could walk around eating it like a lollipop, holding it by the stem and chomping the crunchy turnip.

The big door to the garage was always open and inside the garage there was a freezer/fridge. The fridge was always full of Grandma’s cannings and yummy pickles, as well as spooky things like head cheese––I was going to say this is spooky for kids, but let’s face it, even for adults it’s spooky; some people love it though, weirdos! BUT… The best part of that freezer/fridge was the other side, the freezer side that was always fully stocked with Freezies, Revel-O’s and Drumstiks! There was no limit to how many we could eat. We could go back to that freezer again and again if we wanted to. Even though you’d think a kid would take advantage of that, I would say we still ate way more fresh carrots, kholrabis and apples, etc than we ever did freezies. I believe the wisdom of being connected to nature like that and eating fresh from the ground kept those nasty sugar cravings in check. Unfortunately, due to commercial farming and other unsustainable practices, I don’t think a lot of our food has the same nutritional content nowadays as it once did.

There were a couple of tricycles at Grandma’s farm, a big one and a small one, also a few of pairs of old roller-skates and skipping ropes; sometimes we would tie the skipping ropes to the pole supports in the basement and then whip around them on rollerskates. There was no shortage of things to do at Grandma’s farm, it was never boring. Actually, the phrase “I’m bored” probably only ever came out of my mouth once in my life, maybe twice; my mom always said “only boring people get bored.” It’s true.

When I imagine Heaven, it looks a lot like summers at Grandma’s farm.

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Little Things

Anyone who has lived through the year 2020, and now moving in to 2021, knows what I’m talking about when I say sometimes you need a little encouragement. And this morning, God gave me a little sign that filled me with gratitude and hope.

Yesterday afternoon, when I went to pick up my youngest from school, I suddenly found myself thinking about some new friends we had made just over a year ago at the local YMCA. It gets very cold during winter here we live so when our kids would have their Saturday morning swimming lessons, my husband and I would relax in the hot tub. We met some really great people there whose kids were in the same swimming classes as our kids and one weekend we had them all over for tacos––my husband and I love to host people, enjoy the company and share the joy of authentic Mexican food. We had a great time, but it wasn’t very long after that they decided to basically shut down the whole world for the “pandemic”; we were not able to continue cultivating that new friendship.

Yesterday afternoon, I found myself wondering if I would ever see those people again. Would we ever see a world again in which we are “allowed” to go to the gym again, “allowed” make new friends again?

I had a moment, I refuse to break, mind you, but I had a moment of nostalgia; of missing “the way things were”. One of those moments when your heart sinks just a little and you long for different times and you know that if you stay on that path and continue it could lead to darker places. It was fleeting.

Then, this morning, when I sat down to do my morning devotions and prayer, I saw quickly the name of the person I had been thinking about yesterday pop up on my Telegram. It was amazing! It was like a wink from God, a little nudge that said “I’m here and I’m listening. I care even about the little things and I care enough to show you.” What are the chances that I don’t think about that person for months and then their name pops up within less than 24 hours?!

I took a moment to say Hi and send blessings to my friend. And I took a moment to praise God and thank Him for taking care to show me His love even in the little things.

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Writing My Story

I have recently begun a writing workshop, a 7-day book writing challenge by Hay House. I have been meaning to start writing my story since last fall as part of a business program I had committed to. But every time I determined to do it I would inevitably have all kinds of other things to do; my procrastination pattern I mentioned in a previous post was trying to rear its ugly head.

After Day One of the writing challenge, my story is pouring out of me. I have only begun to dictate bits and pieces in my Notes app as they come to me, but this is more than I have done, ever.

Four days before the writing challenge started, I wrote down my goals for this year; one of those goals was to write my story. One week before writing down my goals, I registered for the Hay House writing challenge–something a dear friend sent to me. And exactly one month before that, I made my commitment to write a blog post everyday for 100 days. This is the physics of progress, as one of my mentors would say. I’m biting off pieces that I can chew. I’m taking action and as my mentor always says, action breeds clarity, clarity breeds awareness, and awareness breeds certainty. Each step I take brings me closer to what I want. Each action I take brings me more clarity. And because I’ve set my intention, (and written it down to make it real), more opportunities keep flowing to me. Everytime I make another move that I know is congruent with where I want to go, my story becomes more and more clear to me. For the longest time, I didn’t think I even had a story, not one anybody would be interested in anyway. I was much too ordinary and insignificant to have a story. How many of you feel this way?

There are parts of my story that I am not looking forward to writing. I know it will be therapeutic, and it’s necessary for my growth and healing. There are things that, had I known then what I know now, I would have done differently. But, it is finally time to talk about those things, because I suspect that many of us have those things that we feel we can’t talk about. No matter how big or small, significant or insignificant they seem in our own eyes or in the eyes of others, we all have those moments that we wish we could undo, or do better; the coveted do-over. If I can talk about my stuff, I can empower you to talk about your stuff; to forgive yourself and learn to know and love yourself so that you too can empower others to know and love themselves and we can have a world full of people who truly love themselves.

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Conversations

I enjoy conversations, especially the deep ones; philosophical ones, existential ones; conversations about consciousness and the meaning behind the reason.

I mentioned in my previous post, that I’d rather be alone reading or thinking about something deep that to be in a superficial conversation. Don’t get me wrong, I can do the superficial conversation thing, and even enjoy it, but it’s not my preference. I also realize that you don’t just jump into those deep conversations with most people; you have to kind of feel it out first. Some people are afraid to go there, some people have no idea where there even is.

I’m thinking of particular person that I can’t even say the work “Reiki” around. Many people have at least heard of Reiki, are a little bit curious about it, or have even tried it. But when I say this word or even the word energy around her, it’s like I can almost see her floating out of her body. No joke, she completely goes somewhere else. So we talk about other things, the weather, her grown kids, her health issues that began seemingly out of nowhere and will likely “force” her to retire early; from a consciousness perspective, I can see other things going on here, but she can’t hear that, so I just listen.

One time, I had a booth at a trade show and got to talking with the pleasant couple across the aisle from me when we had down time. Mostly he was at their booth, so we talked more, but occasionally she would come around with their little one and bring food. He had been asking about my energy work and practice when his wife joined us, and I was about to tell a story that had something to do with a woman and her pregnancy (this was a long time ago, so I can’t remember the story, it’s not really relevant other than how it affected the energy). She was hanging on to my words, I could see the interest, she wanted to know all about it, but I got to a certain point and the energy in front of him was suddenly as if a huge iron gate had just slammed down, “Whatever you’re about to say, DON’T.” I could tell his wife was waiting for me to tell the story, but I pretended to get distracted and trail off and the energy instantly lifted. The interesting thing was, I don’t really know if he was conscious of any of that. I’m not really sure that he was even aware that it happened; to this day, I wonder. In any case, it was not a conversation that was meant to happen at that moment. I will never forget how tangible that energy was.

This isn’t really the kind of thing I can tell people, though, because unless they are also aware of energy, they will either think I’m full of it; believe that they are impervious, or worry that I am reading their minds, (which I am not, just reading the energy). It’s also why I don’t enjoy the superficial conversations as much, I’d much rather be exploring the energy behind what people are saying.

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Slacking

I’ve been slacking in my posts. I know what this is. I’m not lazy; it’s my procrastination pattern. I tend to put off important things, for a number of reasons: fear of being really good at it and then having the responsibility of having to be even better; fear of not being good at all and then become a laughing stock (of who? of what? I don’t know but I guess this is probably a more common fear than we fool ourselves into believing when the fear is pushing at us); needing the pressure of a tighter deadline to motivate me and push me––there’s something about accomplishing under pressure that I really enjoy, and I do always come through. So why am I slacking?

I have a number of things I want to say. Deep things. I’m not really one to have a lot of superficial conversations. They bore me, and I’d rather be alone reading or thinking about something deep than be in a superficial conversation. So, I haven’t really been slacking, I’ve been putting it off because I want to introduce myself a little. And so I can get used to the way I think and how it comes out in my writing style. It always makes so much sense in my head and my hope is that I can translate that energy into words that makes sense for the reader as well.

The very fact that I’m attempting to apologize for and explain my slacking should tell you, at least, that I am aware of it and working on it. I will get better. And because I may have very few, if any, readers at this point, (unless you’ve found this blog by accident because I have not put it out there or promoted it in any way yet), this is mostly reassurance for myself. I’m recognizing my patterns, I am aware of my fears and hesitations and because I know myself, I know I’m moving forward.

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Sweat

I decided that sweat was what was missing, at this point in time, to help pull me up out of my Funk. This morning I would do a more vigorous workout and listen to some *music that motivates me.

A slight speed-walk/jog to get warmed up, squats, with and without the bar, lunges, without weights for now, jumping-jacks, push-ups and stretches. Ok, maybe it sounds easy, but I’ve been mostly just walking for the last 8 months or so, maybe more. Yeesh! Lazy!

I mean, don’t get me wrong, walking is very beneficial, and some would say better than running which is very hard on your joints. But, it’s also very soft energy, too much time thinking, not enough doing, at least for me. However, in the interest of knowing and honouring myself, I recognize there was a period of time in which that is what I needed; I slowed down and took time. Something I actually had to learn the hard way, as I will eventually explain in a later post.

This morning, after my more vigorous workout, I do feel more motivated. This is even my second post for the day. Which, I need to do because I have quite a few days of slacking with no posts to make up for.

Because of certain things I have learned about myself, through years of observation, (yes, you can observe yourself and I believe one should––don’t just go blindly through life never thinking about what and why you do what you do), and through examination of my LifePrintOS profile, I knew this “sweat” approach would help me. I have a good amount of motivational performance energy in my LifePrint under a High Achiever archetype so I am very goal-oriented.

Walking is a great exercise and it’s calmer softer energy plays to my “Connector” energies in my LifePrint by giving me time alone to connect with myself and move my body while doing so. However, I now knew it was time to get motivation going by tapping into my “Optimizer” energy, the one that likes to get the maximum benefit for the minimum effort. Playing to my goal-oriented High Achiever archetype, I knew I could do this by working up a sweat. In this case, the “sweat” was the goal. And tomorrow morning I’ll know if I hit the other target if I realize it’s hard to sit down––I like knowing I put in a good effort and the sore muscles are confirmation; I said sore muscles, not injuries, let’s be clear. Considering that my legs feel a bit like jelly when I go down the stairs I think there’s a good chance I achieved.

It is very good to have this kind of information from LifePrint because I can use it to my advantage and also look at how certain situations might be a “disadvantage” or rather, I can know where my susceptibilities are and look at how to turn it around by using other energies in my LifePrint to compliment and make up for the perceived disadvantages. And this, of course, lights up my achiever reward centres too because one of my other major “goals” is to know myself. To know what makes me tick, what lights me up, what motivates me, what I need to watch for and how to bolster my susceptibilities.

Time to get the motivation flowing, so for now, I work up a sweat in the mornings, before anyone else gets up. I start the day achieving and it makes way for more achievements.

*There was a period of time when I was running a lot; it doesn’t agree with my body, but I enjoy it SO MUCH! This is a list I made to motivate me through the first 10K race I ever signed up for. The original list was a little different as I have since added and subtracted from it, but this it what keeps my going when I do still occasionally go for a run.