I'm back on the grid! Ho Hum...power at the flick of a switch and almost unlimited hot water is great, but.....
I love my home, my neighbourhood, my city, but I much prefer the pace and space that being at the trailer affords me.
Time is measured by your belly and your naps and the sun. That is completely the way our bodies and spirits should be guided.
Space is taken up by trees and birds and sky and apparently by wolves, bears and cougars, but to this point we have managed to avoid those quite well.
I can tell that being out of the work a day world for a while has made a huge impact on my soul and well-being. While working in my last role the only place I could totally unwind was when I was out at the trailer. By the time I hit the city limits on the way home the knots were back in my shoulders and it felt like I'd only been gone a few hours.
Now, I'm sitting here after having bathed the dogs, unloaded the truck and ordered pizza and the knots still aren't back. When hubby and I walked in the door it felt like we had been gone for weeks and yet it was 48 hours and 16 minutes from the time we had left the house. This is the way it should be.
Wednesday, July 27, 2016
Saturday, July 23, 2016
Friday, July 22, 2016
WORDS
This is a piece that I started years ago. I'm curious to see how others react to it.
This is a piece that I started years ago. I'm curious to see how others react to it.
Wednesday morning greeted Mags with sleepy eyed
smiles on a 2 year old boy on the potty and a curly headed girl reaching up to
her from the crib. They had all slept soundly through the night. The first in
so many that she couldn’t remember the last time it had happened. The dawn
shone a light on what had been niggling the back of her mind. Days starting
like this are how life is meant to be lived.
On the Sunday before she had spent the day helping
to prepare for a trip. One that he needed to take to regain his balance. She
did what she needed to. Kept the kids out of the way, packed all that was on
his list just the way he liked it and said all the things that he needed to
hear. “How will I handle it without you here?” ”The kids and I will miss you so
much.” “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
Not saying what was truly on her mind came
naturally to her. It was what she had learned from an early age. One of the
great life lessons that Norma had given her. Not in so many words, but in her
actions.
Margaret knew that what she was living was no different than what she had grown up
in. She had sworn she would never repeat it. Mag watched her mother suffer through decades of
abuse, both
physically and emotionally, delivered from one of the most charismatic men she had ever
encountered-her father. All her young life she had promised to never put up
with that and yet here she was. Here she was, 21, with two children and living under a spyglass.
Sunday morning was spent prepping his hiking supplies for the
week. She hadn’t realized that by Wednesday she would feel a profound sense of
tranquility. After 4 years of anxiety in the first person and a previous 17
years of observed and peripheral anxiousness, this was a strange situation. Not
watching the clock to see when he would be home and ensuring that she could
account for every moment of the day including each encounter with someone. She
didn’t have to stay within earshot and a two ring answer of the telephone. He
was completely isolated on his climb and couldn’t get to a phone to check up on
where she was, who she had run into, how long she was gone, what she was
wearing.
As Wednesday evening faded and she sat rocking the
younger one in the chair by the window with the blinds partially open her
thoughts drifted freely. Is this what the other people in the other homes felt?
This sense of not having to share, edit, hide a part of their lives from the
scrutiny and judgment of the people who loved them?
Her boy was asleep in his bed with the blankets askew. 2 years earlier she had prayed for guidance in making her decision on whether to stay or go and asked that the gender of her child be the sign. If a boy came into the world she would go. A boy would be able to withstand the pressures of life without a male influence. Her brothers would be able to act as his mentors. She hadn’t heeded the sign then.
Her boy was asleep in his bed with the blankets askew. 2 years earlier she had prayed for guidance in making her decision on whether to stay or go and asked that the gender of her child be the sign. If a boy came into the world she would go. A boy would be able to withstand the pressures of life without a male influence. Her brothers would be able to act as his mentors. She hadn’t heeded the sign then.
Now as she
rocked her curly haired daughter she wondered if this sense of peace would be
what she could give them as her gift in life. She knew that the handling of all
practical matters would be easy enough….she did all the daily stuff now. She
could do it. She would do it.
On Saturday evening he opened the door and called
out. Why was the living room empty? He called out down the hall and his voice
echoed. As he moved further in slowly there was a different scent. Ahhhh, the
little woman couldn’t have known what time he’d be home – in fact, he hadn’t
been due home until tomorrow and yet she had the furniture hauled out of the living
room so that the freshly shampooed carpets would dry. She knew how to keep her man happy.
Thursday, July 21, 2016
Toot!!
I spend some of my rejuvenation time in the loveliest part of the world, tucked away in the forest, alone, but within reach of some family that I have always enjoyed, but have grown to love and appreciate more and more with every moment.
During one of my visits to this area I got the chance to go to a local market on a hot summer Saturday morning. As chance would have it, my tea connection introduced me to her soap lady. I have to say that I was skeptical about the products she sold - I have been plagued since my early 30s with allergies that for a number of years rendered me make-up free and limp haired.
I went from a woman who would not leave the house without foundation, mascara and a tube of lipstick, not gloss, to a woman who had to troll the aisles of the natural food stores squinting at ingredient labels. For a number of years would shock colleagues at Christmas parties when I would actually break into the incredibly expensive cosmetics to bring a little glamour to my new normal - blank face and pony-tail. Even finding shampoos, lotions, and soaps was frustrating. Not only did I have to find ones that I could use, I had to source ones for my husband too. Any contact with an allergen would see me scratching, blotching and flaking.
Back to the lovely soap lady....the smells emanating from the booth were rich and natural and made me think of summer breezes wafting across sun warmed skin. Her assistant was magnificent. A shy smile just peeking over the display table encouraging me to try this favourite or that. Who can resist a big-eyed girl proudly touting her Mom's hardwork? I bought a few bars to bring home and try.
The following week I broke into one of the bars and hopped in the shower with a little bit of trepidation. Would the welts show up on my face again? Was it truly as natural as it seemed? Would I be comfortable with a bar as opposed to a lotion or gel again after all these years?
I got out of the shower glowing and tingly. My first experience was with mint poppyseed. The grit of the poppyseed gave a good scrub and the mint invigorated me from top to bottom. MMMMMM
My husband is a slow-adopter to all things that are not chocolate and sweet and eaten after a good meal. However, when I stopped buying shower gel and he had to break out one of her soaps for a morning ritual he instantly had the same sensations I had. He was a devotee!!
On a trip out to my little corner of paradise in the months leading up to Christmas I got the chance to stop by the factory. It sits in the heart of a small town and the smells from there must waft over the area in indulgent waves. The factory is a 10 X 14 foot converted garden shed with a guard dog and the cutest little assistants ever. Covering every wall are shelves of ingredients and flat upon flat of deliciousness. During my visit I filled up a grocery bag full of goodness to tuck into all the stockings from Santa, all the hostess gifts I would during the upcoming holidays and just a few for hubster and I. I also tried out a shampoo bar for the first time ever - Converted!!!
These lovely little bars of joy are now a staple in our house and more often than not you'll find them tucked into a gift bag so we can share the love of handmade with friends.
If you want a slice of heaven to enter your morning routine I encourage you to check out Soco Soaps on Facebook. Here you'll find which markets Karey and her products will be at, be able to order on-line, or find her wares at retailers in your area.
Karey, a big glee-filled tooty-mctooterson to you!!!!
I spend some of my rejuvenation time in the loveliest part of the world, tucked away in the forest, alone, but within reach of some family that I have always enjoyed, but have grown to love and appreciate more and more with every moment.
During one of my visits to this area I got the chance to go to a local market on a hot summer Saturday morning. As chance would have it, my tea connection introduced me to her soap lady. I have to say that I was skeptical about the products she sold - I have been plagued since my early 30s with allergies that for a number of years rendered me make-up free and limp haired.
I went from a woman who would not leave the house without foundation, mascara and a tube of lipstick, not gloss, to a woman who had to troll the aisles of the natural food stores squinting at ingredient labels. For a number of years would shock colleagues at Christmas parties when I would actually break into the incredibly expensive cosmetics to bring a little glamour to my new normal - blank face and pony-tail. Even finding shampoos, lotions, and soaps was frustrating. Not only did I have to find ones that I could use, I had to source ones for my husband too. Any contact with an allergen would see me scratching, blotching and flaking.
Back to the lovely soap lady....the smells emanating from the booth were rich and natural and made me think of summer breezes wafting across sun warmed skin. Her assistant was magnificent. A shy smile just peeking over the display table encouraging me to try this favourite or that. Who can resist a big-eyed girl proudly touting her Mom's hardwork? I bought a few bars to bring home and try.
The following week I broke into one of the bars and hopped in the shower with a little bit of trepidation. Would the welts show up on my face again? Was it truly as natural as it seemed? Would I be comfortable with a bar as opposed to a lotion or gel again after all these years?
I got out of the shower glowing and tingly. My first experience was with mint poppyseed. The grit of the poppyseed gave a good scrub and the mint invigorated me from top to bottom. MMMMMM
My husband is a slow-adopter to all things that are not chocolate and sweet and eaten after a good meal. However, when I stopped buying shower gel and he had to break out one of her soaps for a morning ritual he instantly had the same sensations I had. He was a devotee!!
On a trip out to my little corner of paradise in the months leading up to Christmas I got the chance to stop by the factory. It sits in the heart of a small town and the smells from there must waft over the area in indulgent waves. The factory is a 10 X 14 foot converted garden shed with a guard dog and the cutest little assistants ever. Covering every wall are shelves of ingredients and flat upon flat of deliciousness. During my visit I filled up a grocery bag full of goodness to tuck into all the stockings from Santa, all the hostess gifts I would during the upcoming holidays and just a few for hubster and I. I also tried out a shampoo bar for the first time ever - Converted!!!
These lovely little bars of joy are now a staple in our house and more often than not you'll find them tucked into a gift bag so we can share the love of handmade with friends.
If you want a slice of heaven to enter your morning routine I encourage you to check out Soco Soaps on Facebook. Here you'll find which markets Karey and her products will be at, be able to order on-line, or find her wares at retailers in your area.
Karey, a big glee-filled tooty-mctooterson to you!!!!
Wednesday, July 20, 2016
Words...
Last night, after an uncomfortable day of worrying about how it would be, I made my way up to a "Writers Meetup". I am a writer, after all - even though it feels strange to refer to myself in that manner.
I was remarkably anxious about stepping out of my comfort zone and meeting up with a group of strangers to practice something that has been a very personal pursuit of mine. I write for work and/or school all the time, but putting my imagination onto the page makes me nervous.
Anxiety around strangers isn't something that I'm used to dealing with. I usually view interactions with strangers, now that I'm on the other side of forty, as an opportunity to be myself. If it works out that the people like me I view it as a bonus. If they don't, then I've lost nothing because they weren't in my life before. However, doing something that I normally do on my own with a coffee shop full of strangers and then possibly discussing the process, the thoughts, etc. with them had me on the edge all day.
I pushed through and did it and it felt good. The people came from different age categories and obviously different walks, and stages, of life. All of the various writers I spoke to were focused on different genres, themes, projects. It felt like a cornucopia of folks all walking different paths, but stopping at the same place to look at their maps, refresh themselves and then carry on.
By the end of 60 minutes of quiet writing time I had more than 1500 words on the page! I haven't yet read what I wrote - it strikes close to the bone and I'm not sure if I can detach enough yet to do any good re-work, but at the end I felt a sense of relief and release. Even better, I got the full sketch of the story that's been rattling my brain for years now onto a sheet of paper and I know better where I need to focus on some research in order to full flesh out the story pieces.
Reading back on my first paragraph I'm still haunted by the statement "I am a writer". I either need to work on owning that label, or find another word that encompasses more of my passion for tales.
Last night, after an uncomfortable day of worrying about how it would be, I made my way up to a "Writers Meetup". I am a writer, after all - even though it feels strange to refer to myself in that manner.
I was remarkably anxious about stepping out of my comfort zone and meeting up with a group of strangers to practice something that has been a very personal pursuit of mine. I write for work and/or school all the time, but putting my imagination onto the page makes me nervous.
Anxiety around strangers isn't something that I'm used to dealing with. I usually view interactions with strangers, now that I'm on the other side of forty, as an opportunity to be myself. If it works out that the people like me I view it as a bonus. If they don't, then I've lost nothing because they weren't in my life before. However, doing something that I normally do on my own with a coffee shop full of strangers and then possibly discussing the process, the thoughts, etc. with them had me on the edge all day.
I pushed through and did it and it felt good. The people came from different age categories and obviously different walks, and stages, of life. All of the various writers I spoke to were focused on different genres, themes, projects. It felt like a cornucopia of folks all walking different paths, but stopping at the same place to look at their maps, refresh themselves and then carry on.
By the end of 60 minutes of quiet writing time I had more than 1500 words on the page! I haven't yet read what I wrote - it strikes close to the bone and I'm not sure if I can detach enough yet to do any good re-work, but at the end I felt a sense of relief and release. Even better, I got the full sketch of the story that's been rattling my brain for years now onto a sheet of paper and I know better where I need to focus on some research in order to full flesh out the story pieces.
Reading back on my first paragraph I'm still haunted by the statement "I am a writer". I either need to work on owning that label, or find another word that encompasses more of my passion for tales.
Tuesday, July 19, 2016
Introduction
Hi All!
Welcome to A Messy Mind Workshop....be very careful where you step.
Having one single place to collect all of my thoughts, musings, writings in one place felt like the right thing to do today.
A few thoughts on what you might find as you pop by on occasion to visit:
Horn Toot! So many times I come across something that makes me want to toot a horn and I thought this could be the place to do it. There will be happy squeaks and there will be the full on honks here. It could be a small business that I've found, a helpful person I've run into, a creative person who needs to be recognized, the fact that I've achieved a personal goal, or it could be an irritant that I try to come to grips with using my fingers on the keyboard and not giving sign language.
Scraps from the cutting room floor...in this section you might stumble across a few of my crafty ideas. Watch out for pins, knitting needles, crochet hooks...they can cause accidents if left in the wrong places.
Words from the forest/highway/dogpark/shower - so....when you're walking down the street and you see someone mumbling away to themselves, please don't automatically think that they are having a psychotic episode. It may be me! Often times I'll be engrossed in my own thoughts and then find out that I've said it out loud. When the dogs are with me I can usual camouflage this tendency by pretending that I'm chatting with them. Alternatively I use this method as opposed to hiking with bear bells.
Drop a line, if you wish, but most especially if anything I've said on here causes you to smile, giggle, or think about something in a new light.
Share the happy - it's the best kind of contagious!
Welcome to A Messy Mind Workshop....be very careful where you step.
Having one single place to collect all of my thoughts, musings, writings in one place felt like the right thing to do today.
A few thoughts on what you might find as you pop by on occasion to visit:
Horn Toot! So many times I come across something that makes me want to toot a horn and I thought this could be the place to do it. There will be happy squeaks and there will be the full on honks here. It could be a small business that I've found, a helpful person I've run into, a creative person who needs to be recognized, the fact that I've achieved a personal goal, or it could be an irritant that I try to come to grips with using my fingers on the keyboard and not giving sign language.
Scraps from the cutting room floor...in this section you might stumble across a few of my crafty ideas. Watch out for pins, knitting needles, crochet hooks...they can cause accidents if left in the wrong places.
Words from the forest/highway/dogpark/shower - so....when you're walking down the street and you see someone mumbling away to themselves, please don't automatically think that they are having a psychotic episode. It may be me! Often times I'll be engrossed in my own thoughts and then find out that I've said it out loud. When the dogs are with me I can usual camouflage this tendency by pretending that I'm chatting with them. Alternatively I use this method as opposed to hiking with bear bells.
Drop a line, if you wish, but most especially if anything I've said on here causes you to smile, giggle, or think about something in a new light.
Share the happy - it's the best kind of contagious!
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