Destiny will place my footprints on paths that I am meant to travel on my life journey. Although I will not know where the trail will take me, the paths must be travelled, leading me into uncertain horizons.....

Thought For The Day:
Christmas has come and gone and I am on the cusp of another new year - a whole new beginning - a new beginning that I actually get every day when I awaken. But, as the new year approaches, my new beginning takes on a grander scale and it is up to me, individually,  as to how I will handle this chance for a new start. I will keep looking bravely ahead and walk, unwavering, into the uncertain horizon. I will not forget the problems and joys of the past year, as they are an integral part of me. But there are new adventures to be had and I will continue to move forward along the paths through what has been, and will continue to be, my personal odyssey - an epic journey that only I am meant to take.    

Until we feel the spirit of Christmas, there is no Christmas.....

Reflections of Christmas

by Beverlee Blampied (c)

Each Christmas I remember
The ones of long ago
I see our home decorated and adorned
Overflowing stockings hanging in a row
Each Christmas has found me 
Dreaming of the days that used to be
With presents hidden everywhere
For all my family
Family presents opened first -
So excited, my children felt that they would burst
Then Santa's gifts were the next to go
Tearing off the wrapping and the bow
Each Christmas I remember
The fragrance in the air
Of roasting turkey and mince pies
The smell of Christmas cookies
Baked with tender care
I love the smell of the Christmas season
Along with all the lights
The evergreen tree so fragrant
All part of  a larger reason
Each Christmas now finds me longing
For the Christmases of my past
So I can jump back into 'motherhood' 
As long as my memories last
Each Christmas now I must remind myself
That though it is a time for family love and fun
It is also a time to give my heart
To each and everyone
Time for me to reshape my soul, my roots, my skies
Freely, like a rich and lavish sun
Time to replenish the unbreakable ties
Of mother, daughter and son
As there is so much more to Christmas
Than candlelight, food and cheer -
It's the spirit of sweet friendships 
That can brighten all my year
It's thoughtfulness and kindness
It's hope, reborn again
For peace, for understanding
For good will toward all men
Christmas is for giving
And for showing that I care
For honouring one another other
With my simple gifts I share
As I hope each gift will be treasured
Knowing that it is not the size or the price
That determines the extent of love
And my willing sacrifice
As whether the gift was large or small
Each gift shares in part
The message of true Christmas joy
When given from my heart
Christmas is forever
Not for just one day -
For loving, sharing, and giving
Are not to be put away
I must keep Christmas memorable
Filled with truth and hope and peace
That the memories might live forever
And my true family will never cease
And when I can not find my way
I need only light a memory flame
To celebrate with the special people in my life
And I can share our Christmas journies again..... 

Along the paths of my life journey I have discovered that the mind will continue to replay what the heart can not delete - my grandchildren will forever be a part of my mind and my heart.....

Child Of My Child

By Beverlee Blampied (c)

Little episodes tickle my memory
Observing all the things that you do
Flutters of happiness occur in my soul
As I really take notice of you
Your smiles bridge the years between us
And I can be young once more
Rediscovering the world through your eyes 
You open the future's door
I gaze in awe at familiar features
Made new again in you each day
As you offer me the promise of tomorrow
And the hopes of dreams that will stay
You fill in the little bits and pieces
That I missed during the parenting 'bend'
As you have the time to listen
And I now have the time to spend
So these moments spent now with you
Are gifts - a profound treasure
Locked lovingly forever in my heart
The true memories by which I can measure                                           
Through you I can see the future
Through me you will know the past
But in the present we will love one another
For as long as these moments can last

Our destiny is made known silently.....

Thought for the day:
Silence is something that we can actually hear. In the sounds of silence - Imagine, See, Listen, Live -  and the words will come and look after themselves.

We must allow ourselves to be who we really are and not lose ourselves in the visions of others,  in order to do what we need to do, to have what we truly want.....

The Game of Life

For as long as she could remember, she had had a nagging feeling that something was 'wrong', something was different about her. She remembered feeling it clearly in childhood, and that it intensified considerably throughout her adolescence and early youth. When she looked back on her adolescence, her memories were surrounded by a grey fog, and tinged with sadness. Many times she remembered she convinced herself that she must have just 'wanted' to be different, that there was nothing at all wrong with her. But, it was like her mind was listening to a symphony of beautiful music with just a few notes off key. It was hard to put her finger on it, but she knew that something in her life was out of tune.

Over the years, on the countless occasions that she had struggled with some major hardships in her  life, she often felt as if someone had tied a brick around her heart and was daring her to swim. The slow suffocation and strangulation of despair would descend on her, like a parachute gracefully landing. She could often see it coming, and would try to brace herself. Other times, it fell upon her quicker than a swift kick in the stomach. It was not enough to tell herself to just snap out of it, although she literally wanted to, and tried her hardest to, but she was up against an evil enemy, and the enemy often won. The enemy became her best friend, her one constant friend and eventually she didn't know any better.

Looking back, she could now see that she had unwittingly transgressed the laws of her own true nature, or stress to be who she was not, and then came in conflict with herself. Her soul wept loudly as she struggled against a paradigm that was not her own. Her difficulty was in perceiving, understanding thoughts, actions, words and deeds from her own paradigm of being, thinking, sensing. She was at times deafened by the silence of her lone singularity, caught in the sorrows of her sensibilities - daring to expect more from a world that often fell short of her idealized values.

She had always struggled with her place of value in her family and consequently its echo in the other parts of her life. When the life script contradicted or devalued who she really was, and she did not stand up for herself - then the enemy took its grip. She colluded, allowing herself to be a helpless victim of the unspoken scripts of the past. The enemy continued to resurface under pressure: stress, illness, a crisis or sets of negative circumstances. She often carried  her heavy stone up a winding path, to the very top of the mountain but invariably, whenever she reached the top, it rolled back down again. It seemed that every time she soared on the wind, there was an immediate plummet into the prison that was her dark mind. And she never knew how long or severe her sentence was going to be. In floods of endless tears she often asked herself if that was all there was to life, and, more often than not, she was convinced that that was life, unfair yet the best it could get, and to ask for it to be more would have been ungrateful. The constant guilt that she felt from these feelings would hang off her shoulders. The enemy would taunt her about the 'shoulds' and 'should nots' of how she must feel - servings of guilt and self-doubt - a recipe for disaster. She could not shut down her mind, no matter how hard she tried and sleep would become a luxury.

Now, again, she had reached a pivotal point, lost in the tunnels of ongoing and irreversible family conflict. Much reading, counselling and meditation had pointed out, and made her aware - verified - that she had tried her best. She was not to blame. And now she had a choice - she could continue to break down and give in, knowing that she would repeatedly watch her stone roll down the mountain, or she could choose to triumph - survive her destiny, live another day, and, despite the circumstances,  win the battle of perception. 

The journey to her freedom has been a marathon event and she knows she will never qualify for the 100 metre sprint! There will still be bad times and hurt emotions. But she has discovered that she can compete equally in the game of life. She need no longer be disabled. She can become more of herself, not less. And so she has decided that she will no longer fall from the height of expectations, without a star of light and hope or inspiration that this need not be. She will no longer feel abandoned, unable to look at the next day for fear of repetition. She will no longer lose her sense of self. She will unhook from identification with her pain and fear of silence. She will free her soul. 

She has now stepped out of the shadows of disempowering stories, and transcended paradigms of perception to re-create new ways of seeing, being. She has stepped away from those who had chosen to not share her journey - as they have lost touch and can no longer see who they are, let alone who she is. She is now consciously listening to her soul within, dancing to its rhythm with passion. She has allowed herself to listen to the healing processes within her darkness: signals that tell her to stop, re-think, change, listen to the music of her soul and start afresh, follow what she loves. She is allowing the tides of change and has stopped crashing against old waves. And she can breathe again.....

Our words are the camera that determine our reality.....

Thought For The Day:
It has been said that thoughts and words rule our world. Why, then, is it never possible to share what we want to say - all our thoughts - honestly, frankly, unveiled, uncensored - without the risk of being misunderstood?

To my teenage granddaughter - congrats on turning 13 Rhianne Kayley.....

HAPPY 13TH BIRTHDAY

Written by Beverlee Blampied (c)

Today you have become a teenager

It's a day you've been waiting for

13 years old you are now

Growing up well -  very loved and adored

Live each and every moment -  be the best that you can be

For the character of your makeup is the one thing that will last

At home, at school, or wherever you are

Guide and guard yourself with care, as life happens so fast

Hope you have a very special birthday

May all of your dreams come true

And may the start of these special teenage years

Bring much fun and happiness to you

In life every story has an ending - in a story every ending is a new beginning.....

New Beginnings

She noticed that it was beginning to get dark earlier these days. It was only mid November yet there was an icy coolness in the air as the sky began to darken.  But she was feeling a little warm, - perhaps from the anxiety and nervousness in the pit of her stomach. In a few minutes he would be there. She couldn't believe that it was actually happening, felt like she was part of a made-for-TV movie. But some part of her had obviously clued in, because, while it all seemed remote and unreal, she was literally shaking with nervous energy.

She had put on her 'little black dress' under which was her new black-lace underwear. She had perfectly plucked her eyebrows, painted her finger and toe nails a nice cherry red and had had her hair cut in a fresh, yet somewhat funky, hair style. She looked in the mirror and liked what she saw. Maybe because she was excited or maybe because she was more comfortable with herself in middle-age. She was a bit larger than she wanted to be - than what he would remember her being - but there was something still strongly feminine about her new curves. Her eyes were dark and purposeful. Her lips were softly lined and sensual. She looked and felt like a woman who had seen things, knew things, experienced things. A  woman who could be trusted. She was the best she could be and now all she had to do was wait.

She had invited him for dinner ten days ago, when they had discovered each other again and renewed their acquaintance during a lunch break at the business conference they were both attending in the city. It was now many years after they had gone their separate ways  - he to Vancouver, she to Toronto - after ending their casual dating relationship, both of them in search of careers, and not then prepared to take on the responsibilities of a more permanent relationship. He had readily accepted her invite.

The meal was cooked. The house was clean and arranged just so. She sat on the love seat by the window, awaiting his arrival. She pictured him pulling up in the driveway. Wondered if he was nervous too. She thought how wonderful it would be if he could actually accept her as she was now - and this time maybe really learn to love her - and how extraordinary that would be. She thought that the good thing about falling in love when you are middle-aged is that you wouldn't have to always be asking your partner if they'll still love you when you are old and grey. You are already old and grey! She thought that to have somebody love her now would feel even better than winning the lottery. 

She heard a car door shut and peeked out to see, in the soft dusky light, a figure walking up the front pathway. She felt her whole body clench - not a good feeling - fear - like a spasm. Fortunately it passed quickly and she went to the front door, only pausing for a minute before opening it. She watched him walk towards her and smile as he approached the door. She couldn't help smiling back as she took him all in - the grey tweed jacket, the khaki pants, the black T-shirt. The strong, manly neck. The flecks of silver in his hair. His smile didn't change at all. His eyes were filled with warmth as he took her face in his hands and kissed her. 

At dinner they talked and laughed. He liked her cooking. He liked being with her. There was no need for words. .

She knew that there were few moments in life that alter you - few moments that act as a curtain between then and now. The past and the future. Few moments that were better in real life than in memory . She realized that this night was one of those moments.  She knew that pleasure can be fleeting and that love is uncertain. But at this exact moment she was happier than she had been in a very long time and she was suddenly certain that in this moment was a chance for a new beginning - a beginning that had eluded her, until now. 

  

That which is real, never changes.....

Remembering When

She knew that almost everyone had had it happen at some point in their lives. A past love would move on. A past love would marry another. A past love would be nothing more than a distant memory. But she never thought that it would happen to her - or that she would be phased by what once was. She never thought that the day would really come when she would never again look into his eyes. She never thought that she would pick up the phone and then hesitate to call his number. She never imagined that every song about a lost love would be able to bring a tear to her eyes and his face to her mind. Actually, she never thought that he would ever really belong to someone else.

She never thought it would happen - but it did. She had recently found out that the one she had loved so completely, for so many years, was about to marry another. He had found happiness in a soul other than hers. He had found someone else to complete him, while here she sat, missing him - his eyes, his face, his smile. She could see that smile, the smile that she still saw in her dreams so many nights.  And she couldn't help but wonder, why only now, now that he was no longer within her reach, did it burden her so much?

She didn't even know the past anymore. She didn't even know why the relationship had gone so wrong. Was it something she had done wrong? Where had they fallen apart? When had he lost faith in her and she in him? When did the roses wilt and fade away?

Even though the years had passed them both by - a phone call here, a chance meeting there - she knew that, no matter what, he would always have a piece of her heart. Not a day had passed that she didn't miss him - and she couldn't help but wonder if he missed her too. Did she ever cross his mind? Did he miss her voice in his ear?

And as these thoughts ran through her tangled mind, and she wiped the tears from her cheeks, she had to admit to herself that she knew he would not be happier with her. They had outgrown each other long before they had parted ways. He now had another life - one entirely separate from the one he knew with her and she with him. She, too, was now another person from the one with whom he had shared his love. He had found his own strength without her. He now loved another. Yet, for just another moment, she wished that she could look into the depths of his eyes, just one more time, and feel what she had once felt with him.

She had always thought that they would circle back around each other, and yet, fate had another hand to deal her. So why was it that she was only plagued by this when hearing that he was now lost forever? Why hadn't it bothered her when she was looking into his eyes attempting to explain why she hadn't called him back the last time he had phoned her? Why were emotions such a blessing at times and such a curse at others?

The one thing she would take from this sudden pain now was his memory; every smile seemed brighter, every touch more tender, every glance more filled with  longing - they seemed happier in her memory than she was sure they really had been. In memory they laughed more, touched more, felt more. But now her ultimate realization was that although their love may have faded away in reality, in her memory and in her heart, it still burned so brightly that she would never remember him with anything other than adoration. She also wished him nothing but ultimate happiness. No matter how much it pained her now, she wanted more for him than she could ever imagine wanting for herself.  

There are things we did in life that we wish we hadn't, and things we didn't do that we wish we had.....

Thought for the day:
Each and every one of us leaves a footprint on the world. Our footprints are a record that we were here , and they leave an insight into who we were and what we did. Our choice is in only what kind of footprint to leave.  

Whether the outcome is positive or negative, there is nothing as powerful as the truth.....

Footprints
By Beverlee Blampied (c)

A trackless railway
Secluded, stripped, abandoned
Illusory in its imprints
Its indentations of footprints
Intersecting in sections
With the phantom of past steps
And yet always the glints of stimuli
Suspended in words
In rows, in times, in places
But often the placement of footprints
Misplaced - misunderstood
While blindly searching the sky 
For signs of understanding
In denial of the price to be paid
For signing the clouds
With words of truth

Lest we forget.....

On the 11th hour       Of the 11th day             Of the 11th month

We will remember

Each of us is like no other.....

My  Personal Life Story

We all have a life story. My life story is my personal account of all the important events and experiences that have contributed to my becoming who I am today. Because my life story explains how I became who I am it plays a significant role in shaping the way I define and perceive myself.

Throughout my life journey, I have accumulated an endless number of experiences, positive and negative, the majority of which I will later have no memory or recollection. My brain cannot possibly store a detailed account of every waking minute of every day that I am alive - it must filter and prioritize in order to decide which experiences to preserve and which to discard. For this reason, my personal life story - my self narrative - consists of events that I deem important and to which I ascribe a particular meaning and that meaning is therefore highly subjective - if someone else was asked to select the most significant events from my life, they would possibly create a narrative that differs significantly from the ones I have written about.

When I compose my personal narratives (be they fiction or fact) I get to decide which events are important enough to write about. There are many ways to tell a story - even the same story. I can add anecdotes that reveal strength, I can highlight my successes and accomplishments and/or I can convey my setbacks in terms of what I learned from them.  I get to connect the dots and draw my own conclusions and, in this way, I am empowered to determine how I want to define myself, which in turn shapes my hopes and expectations for my future. 

But it is not just all about me. My hope is that each reader of my personal story (stories) - which is always a work in progress - will find a little of themselves in my words, and that in seeking to better understand myself through relating my journey, I will have given others the opportunity to better understand themselves as well.

We must set aside a certain time in each day to nourish our souls.....

Nature's Healing
By Beverlee Blampied (c)

On a cool and crisp fall day 
In step with nature's harmony
I amble through the nearby ravine -
As the bright sun shines down
Coating me with its warm rays
I communicate with nature all around
Underfoot, snap, crackle, pop
Is the crunching sound
Of my walking through dry leaves

This nature walk has no material cost

Instead, in mental dividends, it pays

As my troubles are quietly tossed 

And carried peacefully away

It's awesome how much better I feel
After allowing nature's beauty in -

A small respite for my sanity

From life's daily caustic din

In the very point of time, all of time is there.....

Thought for the day:
Each moment of my life contains all the properties of my entire life - each breath I take and each beat of my heart comes only once. I am actually the centre of a figure eight - and all that has been or that will ever be, passes through me, so I must remember, and remain aware, that every moment is permeated with meaning and purpose . 

There is no right way to say goodbye to a departed loved one.....

Renewed Connection

On the day of her mother's funeral, her legs and feet were numb from the cold as she made her way to the funeral home. She had booked a meeting with the funeral director for ten o'clock and arrived just as he came out of his wood-panelled office. He was quiet and sombre-faced, dressed in the regulation black suit, white shirt and black tie -  the typical undertaker wardrobe. He was soon to discover that nothing about her mother's two p.m. afternoon funeral was going to be typical. 

She waited, tense in her straight-backed chair, for him to consider her request. She knew it was an unusual one, but knew, also, that it must be answered. It was what her mother wanted, and she must honour her mother's request. As must he. She assured him that her mother's instructions were very clear. She watched him read her mother's letter to her, as he wet his lips, but she knew he would agree - after all, customer satisfaction was his bread and butter.  She handed him the zippered garment bag - the  purple dress had been freshly pressed; the red hat was in the hat box; the patent leather shoes were wrapped in white tissue paper.  She informed him that the one hundred pots of daffodils would arrive by noon and were to be placed down both sides of the centre aisle and circled around her mother's coffin, and a sole daffodil was to be placed in her hands. 

After the service was over, she knelt at the open casket. In the twenty-four hours since she had last seen it, her mother's face had changed. The essence of her mother had departed, leaving the death mask behind. She whispered in her mother's ear that she was sorry that she didn't get to know her better - said she had honestly tried. She waited  a few moments, half expecting a response. There was none. The mask remained intact, hiding the secrets they shared. She consoled herself with the effect her mother's outfit had had on all who had stood at her coffin.

The room was empty when she stood  up and reached for the tote she had brought with her. She removed her mother's handbag from the tote and leaned over her still body. She positioned the purse below her folded hands, slid the straps under her left hand, and pulled it through. She knew very well that her mother would never have left her house without her handbag. Inside the purse she had placed her brush and comb, her lipstick, and her change purse. She also added a black velvet box containing a letter that she had written to her mother - her long overdue words of love and farewell, full of truths that had never been spoken and now never would be - but she knew in her heart that they had both forgiven each other and that her mother could now, with all the requested necessities she had provided, continue on the last leg of her journey. "There you go, Mom " she whispered, touching her stiff, cold hands. "You are all set. There is nothing more that I can do for you." She stood still for a moment, then backed away, slowly turned and walked out of the funeral parlour room. 

The great tests of life reveal our character.....

Letting Go and Moving On

As we travel the paths of our life journey, we find out how strong we are, not through our successes, but in the moments of uncertainty that life inevitably puts in our way. Negative events - death, divorce, illness, job loss, relationship fractures - can come crashing into our world at any moment and sometimes without any warning. We then come face to face with having to make some necessary life changes. Should I move or not? Should I stay or should I go? Should I forgive or forget? The 'shoulds' then  become a deep internal craving as we try to process what we think would be the best outcome for our life.

The problem in doing this is that we often hold onto what no longer works - we often place our footprints on the same rocky path. But when we continue to hold on to something that will hurt our potential to be happy, and will thereby hurt our health, we have to look closely at why we are choosing to not move on.

Life is a balance of holding on and letting go. We might want to make the right choices but how do we know when it is truly time to let go and move on? Careers, relationships, even places we live have an expiration date. Sometimes we  hold on to things that aren't working out of fear that we won't find something better. Perhaps our greatest fear, then, is of the unknown, which is possibly why we hold on and try to manipulate our situations to try to control our surroundings. But the outcome is always the same - more pain, immense frustration, and a huge amount of guilt and blame. 

Staying in situations that are toxic to our well-being - situations that no longer serve us, will not bring happiness and meaning to our life. We need to initiate change, take a step forward and let go. There are numerous questions we can ask ourselves that will help us to make the right choice for us alone, and then be able to move on and create a solid life plan: Do my thoughts go to memories more than to the present? Do I feel alone, unheard or disrespected? Do I cry more than I laugh or love? Does the situation I'm in cause me more pain than joy? Have I stopped hoping and expecting things to get better? Am I exhausted emotionally, spiritually and physically? Do I force a smile to mask my pain? Have I lost who I am? Have I sacrificed my core beliefs and values?  Have I expected, hoped and pleaded for the person, place or situation to change? 

If we thoroughly, seriously, and honestly reflect on our answers to these questions we can choose to change the course of our path, place our footprints on an alternate route, and then move forward, trust our future and let our journey guide us to new happiness.      

Each persons life is a story that is telling itself in the living.....

The Need For Storytelling

There was a time when people gathered together around their kitchen tables, on their  porches, in front of bonfires - wherever and whenever a gathering was possible - and stories were told, again and again, renewed with each telling. Unfortunately, somewhere along the way, this art of storytelling has been lost. In our very busy, active and often work consumed world, our time to meet with others is often limited and so verbally passing on our stories to each other is not always possible.

Every story has a beginning, a few obstacles, some hope, and a future, and by sharing these stages of our lives - by writing our stories - we can learn and continue to grow. Our stories are powerful and can be incredible, sad, beautiful, breathtaking or heartbreaking, but whatever they reveal they can take us deeper into the lives of our family and friends and even beyond. Meaningful sharing is the foundation for the caring relationships we all long for in our life. Our stories - our experiences - and our perception of those experiences - can open the hearts of others, as their walls go down, helping them to see themselves, and even ourselves, in light of the stories that define us. 

Some of our stories  might surprise us, some might move us and some might even confront us, but, throughout it all, our life - related to others through the written word - will challenge us to listen to each other and ultimately share in the narrative of our life as we, the writer, has experienced it.   

By writing our stories - our memoirs - we safeguard our personal histories and, at the same time, we leave a personal record for our family. And, in this way, through reflection and documentation, we continue to share our life with them.

One of our goals along our life journey should be to encompass ourselves with people who respect us and treat us well.....

Thought for the day:
People who truly love and care about me will like me just the way I am. This is not because they are blind to my shortcomings, but because they so clearly see my soul and my shortcomings then dim in comparison. I am thankful for these people within my life journey who are willing to let me be imperfect..... 

Every event has its course and its purpose....

Dream Truths

Snuggled in the corner of the comfortable couch she stared out the large picture window at the night sky, at the moon and the stars. She closed her eyes to listen to the night sounds, the wind as it whispered through the trees, and felt herself drifting into sleep.

Her 'dream' thoughts took her to a place - a bookstore - where she had a part-time job. She saw herself in the small but well-stocked store, comfy chairs set out for browsing readers. She looked different. She wore a wide silver bracelet, many rings. Her salt and pepper colour hair was styled in a chic sort of way and her clothes were a kind of 'Joe Fresh' cool. She was helping a middle-aged customer with finding something gripping to read. She worked in the store several days a week and spent the rest of her time volunteering, writing, and simply puttering around her home. She awoke with a start from her fantasy, trying to hold on to the message that the dream was relaying to her. She sat upright and flung the quilt from her shoulders.

The past few years had had their share of hardship and unkindness and she had worked very hard to rid herself of the negative events and painful memories. She had finally uncluttered her emotions and had begun to feel wonderfully free. She was confused now, though, with the nagging pull that her dream had awakened in her. Some thought in the back of her mind made her wonder if there was still some purging needed before she could freely enter the next phase of her life.

And so she began to think about all of the unnecessary clutter in her home. There was so much of it and the notion of getting rid of it all - of downsizing (which she needed to do if she was to put in motion her desire to move to a small town and 'start over') - aggravated and discouraged her.  It would be so much work, but it needed to be done if she was to clear a path for her new journey.

She decided to give things away. There was a second-hand furniture store she had always liked to browse in and she made a deal with the owner to take away - for free - all of the large items she did not want to move with her. Neighbours in her sub-division took all her pantry staples - her Arvinder Indian Spices, her Maple Syrup jars, her home-made cranberry sauce, her canned goods, her jars of pickles. She packed and put aside everything else she didn't need to use daily.  

The de-cluttering process had prepared her way to place new footprints along her life journey.  She had seen so many people take the bull by the horns and it was now her time to do the same. From this moment on she would live her life in the moment - enjoying the best of each day - and existing in an environment that would meet her needs in a fulfilling way. And so she embarked on her new path, allowing herself to make decisions that were for and about herself. The next stage of her life was set to begin. She sat again in the corner of her couch - this time, though, picturing herself walking into the bookstore, unknotting her scarf, sliding out of her coat, and walking the aisles as she searched for something she knew she would find.....    

   

Relationships are not genetic.....

Thought for the day:

Sometimes we have to let go of people with whom we have a biological connection - not because we don't care, but because they don't. Letting go means coming to the realization that some people will remain a part of our history but will no longer be a part of our destiny

Along our life journey we, if mindful, can finally learn that saying no is the ultimate in self-care.....

Worthiness

By Beverlee Blampied (c)

When I become worthy
In your eyes again
Will you still be worthy in mine?
With methodical planning
And devious ploys
You chose to defeat and malign
Deep in thought each day
Since you tossed me away
I've now had time to discover
What is really true
I now see you
Without the obstacles
I now see the uncovered you -
So I ask you
With totally candid concern
What makes you worthy of me?
I finally believe 
That there no longer is
A reason for us to be
When you forgive
What you think I've done
Remember then your own guilt
And that we can now never 
Mend the broken bond
Behind the false walls that you've built
With your continued absence in my life
My strength has genuinely grown
As your maliciousness continues
To make me aware and strong
So if and when you decide
I am worthy again
Sing silently your humble song..... 

Each breath we take and each beat of our heart comes only once.....

Torn Threads

The footprints of her life have travelled many a journey - the most arduous of which has been the tangled webs of the torn threads of her family. But there was a time, not so long ago, when she never could have imagined being permanently estranged - being apart - from her siblings and their families. However, the events that had transpired within the past few years had caused irreversible damage.  Throughout the turmoil she had tried with everything in her to maintain the sibling relationship, as all throughout her family existence she felt that adult siblings should have the ability to resolve conflicts and avoid estrangements by engaging in effective and reciprocal communication and by relying on the neutral bond of siblings. Thus, her many requests for reconnection and finally the issuing of an olive branch. But, unfortunately her attempts met constant rejection and the resulting estrangement has now destroyed an entire family. There is a great divide within the family unit. New parameters were issued. The ties were severed. 

Sibling relationships were the longest threads in her life and the tug from those threads was what has brought her on her journey today. Today isn't the first time she has left her home in the darkness of the early morning 'wake-up'. Several times in the past two weeks she had reached the Go Train Station just as the sun had peeked through the clouds, but her emotions had got the better of her before the train arrived and she had slowly retraced her footsteps home. 

Today, though, is different - today she will follow through on her journey to visit with her critically ill sister. The estrangement with her sisters had been the fuel that had burned her soul, but she had become whole again, after much hard work and soul searching. Fortunately life's lessons had given her the ability to survive the estrangement. She had learned how to stop conforming to her siblings model of who they thought she should be and how they thought she should live her life, and, through it all, she had discovered her true self - who she really was - liked who she saw in the mirror, and had finally found peace.  She was no longer going to let  fearful emotions destroy this peace. She realized, though, that she needed to weave her way through the tangled web and touch the family thread again - she needed to see her sister one more time. 

They had reached their senior years. Time was running out like the sands in a draining hourglass. The barriers across the paths they had shared had not been removed. Although forgiveness and reconnection were no longer viable options for her, she still needed - wanted - to let her sister know that no matter the issues that had torn them apart, she is willing to put away the memories of the hurt, the rage, the resentment, the unstitched gashes - all the bad feelings - for this visit. She sincerely wants to wish her sister peace within her heart and mind and much strength throughout her physical recovery. She needs her to know that although life for herself and her sister has turned down a path that leads nowhere, the torn threads are just that - torn - but the actual family tie can never be broken.

And so she will enter the door to her sister's hospital room, reaching out one more time.....

The ripple effect of the words that we share has a greater power than we could ever possibly imagine.....

Thought for the day:
Every conscious thought that we have, every word that we utter and every intersection of those words with our world, be it verbal or written, leaves an imprint that in some way surrounds each of us and stays with us forever.

Sometimes people around you won't understand your journey. They don't have to - it's not their journey..... 

The Peace of Freedom

She made her decision without thinking - that is, without consciously thinking. The real surprise to her, though, was not really what she did with that decision but was in how she felt afterwards. She was shocked, of course. But not at all guilty. In fact, she actually felt simple relief and full of peace, when the very least she should have felt after walking away from her forty-two year marriage was shock. She had not mentioned a word to anyone - family or friends - even herself, by way of apologies or excuses. 

She wasn't sure why or why now. But, as she placed her house keys in the blue pottery dish on the foyer table and closed the door of her dignified home behind her, she supposed that the years of emotional neglect, submissive servitude and submerged identity, instead of the promised life full of colour and interest and the richness of love and loving had finally taken their toll. By the time she had reached seventy years old, she couldn't help feeling both cheated and empty.

And so, without a backward glance, she clutched her purse closely and pulled her small suitcase on wheels and began her walk to freedom. Not to have the faintest idea of where she would go, what she might do - or become - was a perfectly new and intensely liberating experience. She now felt as excited as the young girl she once was as she started her journey and was actually happy enough to run. Far away from the neat suburbs of stately tree-lined avenues. Far away from her smug middle-class security. Far away from her sou-destroying marriage..... 

We each make our choices and who can truly say which choice is right or wrong.....

Regrets - I Have A Few

I have often  heard, and often used the phrase “No regrets!”. Yet, as alluring as a living without regrets philosophy sounds, it’s not always so easy to live up to! I regret missed opportunities. I regret things that made me feel dumb. I regret getting into bad relationships, or making mistakes in  past relationships, be they familial and/or personal. I regret losing my family due to walls that they chose to build instead of bridges that they should have walked over. I regret that they issued consequences that resulted in discontinued sibling relationships.  I regret not telling someone I loved them more before they died. I regret not spending my time more wisely and accomplishing more. I regret procrastinating, not forming better habits, eating too many caramels, not yet writing the novel I have always wanted to write, not reading all the books I plan to read, not learning a new language, and, most importantly, not experiencing every moment to the fullest. 

Sometimes my regret can be all consuming - I regret the choices I made, because I worry that I should have made other choices. I think I should have done something better, but didn’t. Years ago, I should have chosen a better husband, but didn’t. I should have taken that more exciting but risky job, but didn’t. I should have been more disciplined, but was not.

I regret these choices, which are in the past and can’t be changed, because I compare them to an ideal path along my life journey that I think I should have taken. I have an idea in my head of what could have been, if only I had made a different choice.

The problem is, of course,  that I can't change those choices. So I keep comparing the unchangeable choices I actually made, to an ideal. A fantasy. My choices can’t be changed, and they will never be as good as the ideal. The unchangeable choices I made will always be worse.  I have a hard time not thinking about a bad choice because of how it conflicts with my self-identity. I have this idea of who I am: I'm a good person. I'm smart,  competent, and good-hearted. I make the best choices I can, of course, because I'm a good person. And even if I have moments of self-doubt and periods of a bad self-image, I still think that I am basically a good person. And so when someone else attacks my identity — insults my competence, misunderstands me, calls me a liar, says that my word means nothing — it hurts! I get angry and defensive. And I can’t stop thinking about these offenses.

When I believe I have made a mistake, this also is an attack on my self-identity. I made a bad choice - why can’t I have been a better person and made a better choice? This bad choice conflicts with my idea that I am a good person. And so the problem spins around and around in my head, without resolution. There’s no way to solve this problem, because the bad choice can’t be changed and I can’t resolve the conflict with my self-identity. It is so hard to let go of regret and in trying to find a way to let it go I now realize that I have compared my past choices to an ideal and I therefore have an ideal that conflicts with the idea of those bad choices These ideals are not reality but are instead my fantasy of how I'd like reality to go. They’re made up, and not helpful and these ideals continually cause me anguish. So I have now had to learn to let go of the ideal and finally embrace reality.

The choices I made in the past are over and done with, and I can't change them. But, in fact there’s some good in the choices, if I choose to see it. Being able to make a choice at all is an amazing thing, as is being alive and learning from my experiences. And I can now be satisfied with my choices and see them as “good enough” instead of always hoping for the perfect choices. Some choices will be great, some won’t be perfect, and I can now embrace the entire range of choices I make. I am not actually always good, and in fact my identity can encompass a whole range: I am sometimes good, sometimes not, and sometimes somewhere in between. I make mistakes, I do good things, I care, I am sometimes selfish, I am honest, I sometimes am not totally honest. I am all of it, and so making a bad choice isn’t in conflict with that more flexible and realistic self-identity. It is actually a part of it.

This is all easier said than done, but when I find myself obsessing over past choices, I can  now recognize that I'm falling into this pattern, realize that there’s some ideal I'm comparing my choices and myself to, and  then let go of these perfect ideals and embrace a wider range of reality.

This is a constant practice, but it helps me to not look for perfection, not constantly review my past, but instead to find satisfaction in what I've done and focus on what I am doing now. Regrets are a part of  life, whether I want them or not. But by looking into the cause of my regrets, and embracing the wide range of reality, I can now learn to be satisfied with my choices, happier with the past and happier in the present moment.

And that is a choice I won’t regret.