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the graveyard told stories of everyone’s lives.

Windsurfers.
by the Strumbellas

The window looked out to the lake
The walls smelled of a 100 years of hard days
The windsurfer stayed in my mind
Watching them surf as the hours passed by
Who would have thought I’d be hoping to get back now
Who would have thought I’d be hoping to get back no

We walked in the night past the pines
The graveyard told stories of everyone’s lives
We walked in the night past the pines
And every day I still go back to that time

The library smelled of old books
A closet was filled with the things that we took
The roads were all covered in stone
We wear our bare feet when we made our way home
And who would have thought I’d be hoping to get back now
Who would have thought I’d be hoping to get back no

We walked in the night past the pines
The graveyard told stories of everyone’s lives
We walked in the night past the pines
And every day I still go back to that time

My brother looked out to the city and he smiled
My brother looked out to the city and he smile

We walked in the night past the pines
The graveyard told stories of everyone’s lives
We walked in the night past the pines
And every day I still go back to that time
And every day I still go back to that time

Songwriters: DRURY JEREMY / HEMBREY JONATHAN / JAMES DARRYL / RITCHIE ISABEL CUNNINGHAM / RITTER DAVID / WARD SIMON ALEXANDER

Windsurfers lyrics © Domino Publishing Co. Ltd., Domino Publishing Company Usa, Isabel Ritchie Music, S. WARD LTD., DGJJ INC., JONATHAN HEMBREY MUSIC, UNGUARDED MOMENT PUBLISHING, HOME STATE PUBLISHING, JEREMY DRURY MUSIC INC.


The graveyard told stories of everyone’s lives…

This line reminded me of another – in Elizabeth Gilbert’s book, Big Magic. We are all walking repositories of buried treasure. I think it was her that also talked about cemeteries being the most valuable land because they are filled with dreams left unfulfilled.

It all makes me think about the number of stories that go to the grave. And how important it is for us to write them down.

the story of Joy.

Tucked in my wallet I have: a ticket stub for a movie. a dime. and a picture of Gram and I.

I kept them to remember how I felt that night, so I would have the courage to keep going.

I was eight or nine months pregnant with Thatcher. Mom and Dad were in Toronto visiting; it must have been during Christmas holidays. I didn’t want to fly home that winter because I was worried that I might go into labour early (they live 4 – 5 hours away from a major city centre with a hospital).

With my parents at home with Tate (who was 1 at the time), we decided to duck out and see a movie. We hadn’t gone in over a year. We went to see Joy. We knew little about it and thought we might be able to stay awake long enough to see the whole thing.

If you haven’t seen it yet, the movie is based on the true story of Joy Mangano. A very successful entrepreneur who owns over 100 patents for various inventions and is known for her work on the Home Shopping Network.

Joy was a single mom who had a creative and inventive mind. As a kid, she loved coming up with ideas and making them come to life through paper and prototypes. Joy’s biggest cheerleader and supporter in life was her grandma, Mimi. They had such a close relationship. Mimi often told her that she was destined for great things.

In the movie, Joy invents a new mop. She knows that she has a great idea and has to overcome many obstacles to become successful. And in the middle of it all, her grandma dies.

Now picture me. 8 or 9 months pregnant, with my big round belly, sitting in the middle of a movie theatre. It’s been just over a year since my Grandma Lainie died. At this point, I still can’t talk about her without crying. Now I’m watching someone on screen lose their grandma, their biggest cheerleader in life. It hit too close to home.

You know that feeling when your throat constricts and burns when you try not to cry? You hold your breath, just trying to keep it together. That was me. I knew that if I started, it would become a sob. A messy, loud sob in the middle of a movie theatre.

I missed my Gram. I grew up with a woman who made me feel like I could do anything. And she would want me to be happy. She would want me to go for it.

Why was I still in a job that I didn’t enjoy? Why did I keep pushing myself to live a life that wasn’t me?

I was done.

When I walked out of the theatre that night, I told myself that I would do my own thing. I decided that my career as an educator was over. I didn’t know what I would do, but life was too short. I would figure it out and she would want me to.

That was in 2015.

Today is January 15, 2019. It’s officially my last day of work. Last week I submitted my resignation.

It was as easy as an e-form and picking out my last date. An entire career ended with a few blanks to fill in and a quick phone call. Such a weird way to end such a big part of my life.

I worked so hard to become a teacher. I have two degrees and my Masters in Education. I did my Masters degree while teaching. Teach during the day and then classes and assignments at night.

I became a curriculum consultant for a school board – facilitating learning for teachers and principals. I have my qualifications to be an elementary school principal if I wanted to. I knew it wasn’t for me, but I was interested in learning more about leadership.

I have a math specialist. I taught the Math Specialist Additional Qualification course for the Elementary Teacher’s Federation of Ontario for two years.

I chose to leave a job with an incredible pension. benefits. and job security.

And it’s scary. Who leaves a career like that?

Apparently me.

I was afraid to tell my parents. I didn’t want to upset them or for them to worry about me. Even this morning I was picturing them having to explain to others what I’m up to these days. I don’t want them to feel embarrassed having to tell people what I’ve done.

And there are days where I’m worried that I won’t figure it out and that I might put our family in a difficult situation financially.

And yet I know that I need to pursue something different.

I want our kids to grow up seeing a mom who loves what she does. I want them to be brave enough to do work that is meaningful to them and not worry about the expectations or views of others. And I want them to have a mom who is happy.

For the first time in my life, I am unemployed. I’ve had my own paycheck since I was 12 years old. This is new territory for me.

And this decision wasn’t made lightly. I’ve sat in on webinars about my pension. We have a rental property. I have been making and selling things for a year now. I host workshops and have lots of other ideas I want to explore. I know we’ll be fine.

It’s been a long time in the making. I’ve known since 2009 that I needed to do something different. I can read it in my notebooks…

And I am so thankful for Eric. My husband is my biggest supporter and the one who has helped me feel brave enough to do it. You’re an educated person, Lainie. You will figure it out. We’ll be fine. I love him.

I don’t know exactly what I’m going to do, but I’ll get there (which is so not me). I’ve always had my life mapped out with career goals and expected milestones. School. Job. Marriage. Children. I wanted to make my family proud of my accomplishments. And I feel like I’m starting over. I am trying to picture this all as one big adventure.

I am writing a book that I want to publish. I have two publishers in mind. The book launch in already planned in my head. I have 419 pages sitting in Google docs and a clear bin in our bedroom that I call My Book. I keep tucking pieces inside.

I want to create e-courses and do workshops. I want to create things that will make a difference in other people’s lives. It probably sounds cheesy and I’m okay with that. I want to do good and I feel like I can finally start.

Here’s to new things. Here’s to Joy.


Gram once told me that I need to write my own book. I will and I’ll dedicate it to her.

you have to notice when the universe is cheering you on.

I love Tina Roth Eisenberg.

She’s the founder of Tattly, Creative Mornings, and multiple other companies.

She’s creative. She thinks big picture and sees the beauty in every day things.

I just watched her DO Lecture. If you want to watch it, just click on the image above.

Here’s what stood out to me from her talk…



I’m good at extending trust to other humans… just not good at trusting my own heart. In the last few years, I’ve been coming home to myself.

Becoming an entrepreneur is a spiritual journey.

living this superhero life.

I knew in my heart of hearts that eventually I needed to give in to this flow of life. I was simply terrified of the consequences.

Crisis takes place when the old has not died and the new has still not been born. – Bertolt Brecht

My heart got through to my brain.

It’s up to me how I handle this. How I flip the situation…

I couldn’t point to the North Star.

Stupid Capricorn me, I just didn’t ask for help. I felt like I was hanging on for dear life.

Stop trying to do it on your own. Get help.

We think of our work as a community.

Companies have energy like we do. Everything filters through us.

What you nurture, grows.

If I’m not rooted, my business is not rooted.

The more connected I got to my heart, the more I worked on myself, the more energy started flowing through me…

A business is like an expression of spirit and heart.

They need to see me adding light.

Take care of your gentle hearts so you can give into the flow of life.

Pay attention to those full body yes-es.

Notice when the universe is cheering you on.


“…the two films idea of your life. There are two stories you can tell.
One that is safe and full of regret.
And one that is risky and full of pride and joy.”
(from the intro to the talk)


The DO Lectures…

It takes place on the far edge of West Wales. And, yet, it attracts some of the most progressive minds on the planet. For many who attend, and indeed, who speak, it proves to be a life-changing set of 3 days. The talks are filmed and then made available to the world for Free. They attract a global audience each day to a cowshed. It’s a network to help others reach their potential. That is why we do the do.

How Beautiful They Go…

“How pleasant to walk over beds of these fresh, crisp, and rustling fallen leaves….
How beautiful they go to their graves!”

—Thoreau, October 12, 1853


Thoreau, our great chronicler of the seasons, wrote a lot about the falling leaves in October, noting all the different colors and hues. Their colors aside, he thought, like many things in nature, they could teach us something about accepting our own internal seasons, and our mortality.

October 22, 1853:

Consider what a vast crop is thus annually shed upon the earth. This, more than any mere grain or seed, is the great harvest of the year. This annual decay and death, this dying by inches…. The year’s great crop. They teach us how to die.

October — Harvest Time — was also a month for Thoreau to contemplate his “harvest of thought.”

On October 24, he writes, “My eye is educated to discover anything on the ground…. It is probably wholesomer to look at the ground much than at the heavens.”

***

[Update: 4PM: I had no idea that Thoreau actually collected his thoughts on fall in the 1862 essay, “Autumnal Tints.” See this piece, “Revisiting the Splendor of Thoreau’s ‘Autumnal Tints,’ 150 Years Later.” This is one of the amazing things about reading Thoreau’s journal before you read the published work — he pilfered so much from his daily writing that you know exactly where sentences and sections come from, and it’s fascinating to see how he changed them.]


The writing above is directly quoted from a post by Austin Kleon.  You can read the entire post here: The Leaves.  I wanted to hold onto it somewhere because there is so much to think about…

  • the life cycle of leaves and how through their death, it creates life for another.
  • the idea of nature and its relation to our internal seasons
  • annual decay and death.  I wonder if we experience this in our lives annually.  I don’t mean actual decay or death, but more metaphorically?  Are there things that are slowly disintegrating or coming to an end?  And do we even realize it?
  • love the term, “Harvest of Thought.”  Lots to play with there.
  • “It is probably wholesomer to look at the ground much than at the heavens.”  How often are we looking and planning ahead, rather than paying attention to right now?  I know I do.
  • Autumnal Tints.  Ugh.  Love the language. So good.
  • “he pilfered so much from his daily writing…”  I need to get back to a daily writing practice.

 

 

 

 

my enneagram numbers.

I look an enneagram test and these were my results:

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

3

5

6

7

4

3

4

1

3

The enneagram numbers are across the top column, from type 1 to 9.  The numbers beneath were my scores based on the survey I filled out.


My top numbers:

Type 4: The Artist: Intuitive and Reserved (*my highest score)
Type 3: The Motivator: Adaptable and Success-oriented
Type 2: The Helper: Caring and Nurturing


The Romantic (Enneagram Type Four)

Romantics have sensitive feelings and are warm and perceptive.

How to Get Along with Me:

  • Give me plenty of compliments. They mean a lot to me.
  • Be a supportive friend or partner. Help me to learn to love and value myself.
  • Respect me for my special gifts of intuition and vision.
  • Though I don’t always want to be cheered up when I’m feeling melancholy, I sometimes like to have someone lighten me up a little.
  • Don’t tell me I’m too sensitive or that I’m overreacting

What I Like About Being a Four:

  • my ability to find meaning in life and to experience feeling at a deep level
  • my ability to establish warm connections with people
  • admiring what is noble, truthful, and beautiful in life
  • my creativity, intuition, and sense of humor
  • being unique and being seen as unique by others
  • having aesthetic sensibilities
  • being able to easily pick up the feelings of people around me

What’s Hard About Being a Four:

  • experiencing dark moods of emptiness and despair
  • feelings of self-hatred and shame; believing I don’t deserve to be loved
  • feeling guilty when I disappoint people
  • feeling hurt or attacked when someone misundertands me
  • expecting too much from myself and life
  • fearing being abandoned
  • obsessing over resentments
  • longing for what I don’t have

Fours as Children Often:

  • have active imaginations: play creatively alone or organize playmates in original games
  • are very sensitive
  • feel that they don’t fit in
  • believe they are missing something that other people have
  • attach themselves to idealized teachers, heroes, artists, etc.
  • become anti-authoritarian or rebellious when criticized or not understood
  • feel lonely or abandoned (perhaps as a result of a death or their parents’ divorce)

Fours as Parents:

  • help their children become who they really are
  • support their children’s creativity and originality
  • are good at helping their children get in touch with their feelings
  • are sometimes overly critical or overly protective
  • are usually very good with children if not too self-absorbed

 

To take an enneagram test or to read the descriptions, check out: 9types

 


Oh man, where do I even start.  This is totally me.

For acquaintances and friends on Instagram, you see my creative side, my aesthetic, and how I care about people.  What few see, except for my husband, is what’s hard about being me.

I have feelings of self-hatred, often.  I feel disgusting in my own skin (harsh, but true).  I’m double the size of what I used to be.  I ate the old Lainie.  I often feel like I’m not doing enough for those around me.  I should be a better mom.  a better wife.  a better friend.  a better daughter.  I expect waaaay too much from myself and life.

I long for things all the time.  I worry about being misunderstood and overly censor myself to the point where others don’t always get to see the real me.   I feel dark moods of emptiness and question whether I matter.  I think that’s why Imperfect Boss Camp shook me like it did.

Picture a group of creative women sitting in a camp hall during a keynote speaker.  The speaker says, You are enough.  You matter.  And Lainie is sitting there on the verge of tears because it hit a little too close to home.  Because I don’t often feel that I’m enough and I don’t even know when that started.

Now I want to go back through my enneagram results and come up with a plan (which is so me.  I need to take action.  Information is nice to know but a person needs to do something with it.)

I want to share my How to Get Along with Me info with my husband, even though the guy has known me for over 20+ years (he knows me better than I know myself sometimes).  In sharing it, I hope to better communicate what I need.  And with What’s Hard About Being a Four, I need to think about what I can do to support myself during those times.

Whether quizzes are seen as silly or not, if it makes me reflect on my behaviour and who I am, it’s well worth my time.

 


 

If you have kids and they’re old enough, it might be interesting to have them do an enneagram quiz.  I wrote a post that shares some links if you’re interested.  Or you could  read the descriptions of each number with your kids in mind.

In reading the description for Enneagram Four, I worry about Thatcher.  I think he’s a four too.  He’s such a sensitive soul who laughs in our faces when getting into trouble (total anti-authoritarian).  We will need to keep an eye on him and love on him big time.  Being a four is hard.

There’s also an interesting section about marriages and enneagram numbers.  Look out, Eric Holmes, I see you being subjected to an enneagram test in your near future 🙂

enneagram.

enneagram.jpg

I drew this in my notebook the other night.  I will admit that I had a moment of… this looks like witch craft.  It looks like one of those pentacle symbols.  It’s also kind of cool.  Maybe witches were on to something…

I had never heard of the word enneagram until I went to the Imperfect Boss Camp.

Since then, I have taken at least 5 different free tests that I have found online.  Below are two of my favourite tests if you want to give it a try (favourite, as in I liked the questions):

Just in reading the questions and answering them, you will learn a little more about yourself.

And this website blew my mind with the amount of information about the meaning behind enneagram numbers.  I could only skim during my first go because I knew that I would need to read it again with my notebook and pen in hand.

From what I’ve learned so far, you look for the number that is the largest to determine your enneagram type.  Then there is something called your wing number; it’s your next largest number and is usually close to your enneagram number in the pentagram drawing.  If you’re reading this and I’m wrong or you have a better explanation, please join in!

When you read this site, you will find yourself thinking, oh my god, that’s so me!  It gives a break down of each type (how to get along with me, what I like about being a ___#, what’s hard about it, what we’re like as parents, etc.) Just look up along the top beneath the main menu to find your enneagram number (it’s hard to find at first).

If you try it, let me know what number you were!  I’m just starting to learn about it but it seems like one of those things that should be shared with friends and family.  The more we know about each other’s nuances and what we need, the more aware and supportive we can be.

 

we belong.

This blog post about community has sat open on my computer, unpublished for a week.  I felt like it was missing something.  I found it today – while sitting at my desk, putting together 6 paper hexagons. I know it’s weird, but I’ll show you.

I’ll share the story in three pieces.  I love triptychs and believe that good things come in three.

 



Part 1

Date Night with Eric

When you have three small children and a date night every month or so, by Friday night you have enough energy to wander a warm mall and drink hot chocolate.

Screen Shot 2018-10-28 at 11.03.01 AM

Screen Shot 2018-10-28 at 11.03.19 AM.png
to read more about The Brain Project…

to see all of the art pieces (they are incredible)…


Part 2
Date Night Triggers a Memory

I’ve been wondering a lot about community lately.

This summer my Uncle Bill told me that the Odd Fellows group, that he was a part of for years, no longer exists.  It was a community group for men in the district.  They did fundraisers and donated to local causes.  But without new members and few available to help out, the group folded.

Royal Canadian Legion clubs.  Masons groups.  Ladies Auxiliary.  It feels like these old school community groups are becoming less and less; groups that once brought people together for meals, dances, and events are no longer or few.

Are they being replaced by more modern versions of community? And do those modern versions offer the same depth of relationships amongst members and a feeling of belonging?  I don’t think so.

The art plaque from Friday night made me realize what we are losing when we don’t have community.  A feeling of connection. Happiness.  Health.  Belonging… 

 


Loved reading these:

Independent Order of Odd Fellows
Who are Masons?

It’s neat to see how a group defines itself and what they value.


Part 3
Paper Hexagons

After we saw the beehive art piece (from The Brain Project), I kept picturing paper hexagons in my head.  I know, I sound weird.

So today, once I got the kids down to nap, I sat at my desk and started to cut paper hexagons.

Since it would be a piece about community, I wanted to use paper that would represent that theme and have personal meaning to me.

 

hexagon art.png

The first piece I cut was from a red paint strip.  My version of  Falu Red.  It represents my dad’s side of the family, the Finnish side that I have been trying to learn more about.

I cut a hex out of a Firefly Creative Writing newsletter.  It’s a writing studio – a cozy place that oozes community.   It’s also where I took my first writing course.  To sit around a handcrafted wood table on a Saturday morning, drinking tea, and sharing personal life stories… it was such a gift.  It was a community that helped me see myself as a writer.

I cut a hex out of a booklet we were given at the Imperfect Boss Camp.  I still can’t wrap my head around the community that was created at that event in the woods.  I spent four days with a group of complete strangers who have shifted the way I see myself and others.  I’m so thankful and still unable to articulate the impact it had on me.  I’ll get there eventually.

I also had a cool piece of brown kraft paper with texture that I cut into a hex.  It has no meaning but I love it.  The dark blue piece?  Maybe it could represent our university school colours?  One of the first places where I finally felt like I belonged…

I plan on collecting and cutting more pieces over time.  I want to include papers from back home to the collection.  I love it already and I’m only 6 pieces in.

But the whole point of this…

I answered my own question about community.

Community still exists.  It exists in little pockets and at different moments in time.  What was once a peaceful Saturday morning around a writing table (last year), has become three women I have kept in touch with and who continue to support me – through their encouraging words, emails to pass along a great book or exhibit I might like, and even an offer to meet with one of our family friends to support her in her career.  Community lingers.

A little project to sell upcycled mittens has made me realize the incredible community that surrounds me even though we haven’t seen each other in years.  I have friends from elementary school buying my mittens.  Friends from university are re-posting my project on their social accounts in hopes of promoting it for me.  An Instagram friend, that I have never met face-to-face, offered her workspace for my upcoming Make your Own Mittens workshop and when my sewing machine died last week, my friend lent me hers.  It was her mom’s machine and has so much meaning to her.

Community is very much alive.  It just looks different.

 

I am very lucky.  I think in the simple act of cutting out little pieces of paper, I realized the amazing community I am surrounded by and the impact they continue to make in my life.

If you are reading this and are a part of that, thank you so much.

 

And I do think it would still be cool if we could have big meals together and go to a dance 🙂

 


This blog post about community has sat open on my computer, unpublished for a week.  Something felt like it was missing.  I found it today – while sitting at my desk, putting together 6 paper hexagons.

 

what’s the story behind the logo?

I’m about to get a little nerdy and deep.  stick with me.  you might be surprised by the connections between a simple tree slice and our life stories.


 

10 Fun Facts about Trees:

  1. The outer bark is the tree’s protection from the outside world. It is continually renewed from within.

    Like a tree (I sound like such a hippie), we have our own exterior bark to protect us.  We might put forth a version of ourselves that makes us feel safe and yet we know that others are not seeing all of us.  Even our close friends.

  2. Heartwood is the central, supporting pillar of the tree.  It will not decay or lose strength while the outer layers are intact. With needle-like cellulose fibers bound together by a chemical glue called lignin, in many ways it’s as strong as steel.
    Don’t get me started on heartwood. The idea of having something within us that is strong as steel, that’s pretty cool.

     

  3. Heart rot is caused by fungi entering the trunk of the tree through wounds in the bark.  These wounds are areas of the tree where bare wood is exposed.
    Throughout our lives we experience wounds – the hurtful words of others, loss, bullying, betrayal… These experiences leave us feeling exposed and do damage.

     

  4. A healthy tree naturally combats heart rot through a process called compartmentalization.  The tree grows around the decayed wood tissue and prevents the fungus from spreading to a larger area of the trunk.
    Human beings can compartmentalize during difficult times too.  It’s quite remarkable how we can sustain trauma or hurt, and yet continue on.  And although our growth continues, that dark mark can still remain in our life story.

    I know, a lot of random tree facts and maybe a little more information than you expected.  But, are you seeing some connections between trees and our life experiences and stories?

    Let’s keep going…

  5. Trees are sensitive to their environment.  If a tree has experienced stressful conditions (such as a drought), its growth is limited during those years.

    We are also shaped by our surroundings.  We may have some in our lives who limit us or keep us playing small.  We may meet others who inspire us to do more.  When we look back at our lives, there are years where we remember experiencing great growth.  We may also remember times that were incredibly challenging.

  6. Trees are the longest living organisms on Earth, and never die of old age.

    Trees are immortal; our life stories are too.  You probably have memories of people that are now gone but are present through the stories told.  If you choose to publish your stories, they can impact the lives of complete strangers – even in the years after you are gone.  That’s incredible.

  7. Trees are able to communicate and defend themselves against attacking insects. Scientists have found that trees can flood their leaves with chemicals called phenolics when the insects begin their raid. They can also signal danger to other trees so they can start their own defense.

    In communicating our stories, we not only support our personal growth but of those around us.  You can likely think of a book that shifted the way you thought or impacted your life in some way.  It’s us as human beings supporting one another; tree to tree.

  8. Trees can help you find your way if you get lost in the woods. I love this one.In northern temperate climates, moss will grow on the northern side of the tree trunk, where there is more shade. Also, a tree’s rings can help point you in the right direction too. If you’re in the northern hemisphere, you can see the rings of the tree grow slightly thicker on the southern side since it receives more light. In the southern hemisphere, the opposite is true, with rings being thicker on the north side.

    Stories are way-finding. By unpacking our life stories, we are given the gift of self-awareness and growth in the present.  It’s pretty remarkable actually.  Every time I write a story, I learning something new about myself.

  9. Different parts of a tree grow at different times throughout the year. Typically, most of the foliage growth happens in the spring, followed by trunk growth in the summer and root growth in the fall and winter.

    Growth happens in seasons.  It makes sense – it requires great energy and dedicated focus.  Along with it, it requires time of rest, hibernation, and dormancy.  Writing your life stories can be hard.  It will open you up and leave you feeling emotions that you tried to leave behind years ago.  Be gentle with yourself.  Remember that growth happens in seasons.  You also need rest and restoration.

  10. The most common cause of tree bark loss is that it’s growing out of its skin, which must be shed to allow its trunk to enlarge.

    Ah, this is a good one.  If we want to grow and change, we need to do some shedding of the old too. 

 


 

So what do you think?!  Not only do you know a lot of random tree facts now, you can see why I love tree slices so much and why I chose one as my logo.  I hope it might also inspire you to start thinking about writing your own life stories or to capture stories of your loved ones.

Every tree is unique.  In a forest, it might just blend in with the others.  But when you examine it closely, it has it’s own beauty and story to tell.

When you’re feeling ready to start, let me know.  I’ll share some of the things I found helpful when I got started.

 

the big life questions.

Whether you journal or feel like you need a change in your life, here are some great questions and prompts from Elizabeth Lesser’s book, Broken Open.



What really matters to me in this life?

What precisely do I need to learn, change, and transform within myself?

From whom or what will I take my direction and motivation?

I made a conscious decision to…

Most of all, I was motivated by…

I wanted them to know…

…to no longer…

I try to act…


There are three major hurdles to overcome in crisis: dealing with pain; working with your attitude; and using the crisis as a wake-up and a cleanup call.

Don’t fool yourself and think that Spirit is somewhere else, in other worldly experiences, in great rushes or ecstatic visions.  Life’s deepest experience is the joy that fills our hearts when we love and give to others.

The best in me was born.  I found out what I really was capable of.  I discovered who I really am.

…finally understanding the secret – the same secret we will all now when death is just a breath away: In the end, what will matter is how much we loved – our children, our mates, our families, our friends, everyone we knew, everyone who traveled with us during our brief visit to this unbearably lovely place. What will matter is the good we did, not the good we expected others to do. 

 

Broken Open: How Difficult Times Can Help Us Grow, by Elizabeth Lesser

we’re not so simple

We like to label ourselves
as this or that.

I’m an introvert.
I’m an extrovert.
I’m shy.
I’m fearless.
I’m whatever term
is really popular right now.

it’s not that
simple.

We are everything.

We are this and that.
An amazing combination
of every trait
you could ever think of.

We move in
and out,
changing
and growing.
It must be beautiful
to see.

And yet
we try to categorize
each other,
an old school way
of protecting ourselves.
Dating back to when
we needed to recognize
our predator
to survive.

But it doesn’t do us justice.

Humans are complex
little creatures.
And it’s a good thing.

 


A Different Side.

I’ve been showing only one side of myself.

Friends know my silly side.  They know my sense of humour, my ability to drop f* bombs and make light of situations.  I’m the one that jokes around and gets everyone to dress up for made up holidays at work.  They describe me as fearless and dynamic.

Yet I feel like my blog and Instagram posts have been telling a different story lately.  My little walks down memory lane sharing stories about my past, my hometown, sentimental items in my jewelry box… it makes me sound totally different from the Lainie many know.  It makes me sound really nostalgic and tied to the past.  Which I can be at times, but I don’t like to stay there long.

Because I’m this and that.

As much as I can be reflective, I’m also the one who thinks let’s move on already.  I’m the one who says ugh to art that feels too deep or writing that feels like it’s trying too hard (which is funny because mine likely does the same thing). Keep it light people.  Just say what you need to say.

As much as I think about the past, I love entrepreneurs and start ups.  I’m not tied to old ways of thinking.  I love people who challenge tradition and the status quo, in order to create something new and better.  I admire the forward thinking minds of Steve Jobs and Biz Stone and yet can be nostalgic and like the original Batman movie the best. Random fact but true.

And as much as I tuck away little mementos and keepsakes, I also love to purge. I could be a host on one of those Hoarder shows – quickly chucking old things that serve no purpose.

My friends have recently told me that they are learning a whole new side of me through my writing.  I think I am too.


Art from the Shower

In the shower is where all the random pieces in my head start to come together.

One day I realized that my personality traits are contradictory.  I am this and that, not one or the other (hence this blog post).  I quickly scribbled something down in my notebook afterwards to hold onto the thinking…

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I wanted to take this idea and turn it into a piece of art.

The kids were napping.  I was upstairs at my desk and didn’t want to venture down our creaky stairs to grab my collage stuff (I keep a stash of different paper downstairs).  So I started to grab things around my desk.  A paint strip (I grab these all the time).  Birch bark (I brought some pieces home from the cabin this summer).  A bright yellow leaf (I am drawn to them.  I don’t know why.)

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I started to cut strips, thinking it could be created like a this and that; pieces on the left to represent my past and bright and fun pieces on the right to represent my present/future.  It didn’t work out that way.

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I realized that so much of the past pulls into my present.  There’s a strip in the middle from a letter Grandma Lainie sent me.  She is a part of my past and continues to shape my present, so the strip spans the page.

There’s a pine needle from the cabin, a place that I love.  Falu Red to represent my Dad’s side of the family.  There’s paper with a wood print that reminds me of home and darker colours to represent some challenging times in my past.

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And on the right, there’s colour.  I love greens and mustard yellow.  I love a touch of gold and brightness.  I love design and texture.  Prints and contrast.

It’s all a mix of me.

It’s kind of neat to think about.  What would yours look like?