Gran Amor

A year ago, almost to the day, I made the difficult choice to terminate a pregnancy. It took me months to come to this heartbreaking decision and I have been in a challenging grief process in the months, now year that followed it. My partner, at the time, chose to leave me to manage the feelings and hormones alone and the extra level of hurt was incomprehensible. In hindsight, I am actually shocked that I made it through the debilitating emotional pain without slipping into the depression that used to haunt me through far less.

On Mothers day, an emotionally trying day, this person reached out to me and told me he was still in love with me. He told me he wanted the life together I so longed for and that we saw a glimpse of in the months prior. I resisted at first, and in hindsight I can’t help but wishing I’d stuck to my guns, but instead, I took him back. We had a good month or so before all the promises he made were broken, all the kindness and understanding lost, all the lies apparent, all the compassion dissolved. Through counseling and connecting with others, I learned more about terms like gas lighting, love bombing and narcissism. Despite understanding that I had found myself in a toxic connection, I have struggled to let go.

My brother is a chef and on one of the many occasions he lost a fingertip to a clumsy knife maneuver, the doctor asked him if he wished to keep the dismembered piece of extremity. My brother, being the practical kind of guy he is, said something along the lines of ‘why the heck would I want to do that?’ To which the doctor replied that, sometimes when people go through a traumatic experience, they find comfort in holding on to a piece of it. I held onto my ex with the thought that losing him completely would somehow make the loss of the baby harder, but the reality seems to be that trying to hold on was the more difficult path.

So, when we broke up the second time, I attempted to move on. I didn’t want to stay stuck on this guy who clearly didn’t care for me for the rest of my life after all! So, I met a fella online under the guise of developing a friendship. We communicated perfectly, we called each other on what we saw with kindness, we had mutual respect, we shared common interests, we had similar values, wanted children, the list goes on and on. Only one thing, I was just sort of, well, bored. I was still spinning about the confusing relationship I was too freshly out of, I was still emotionally connected to the toxic cycle, I still had delusion about its future potential.

I suppose I could have just ended it with the new guy, and I did attempt to a few times and was consistently transparent about my entire process, but I hoped, with time, he might pull me out of the weeds. A healthy connection would trump the toxic one and I’d eventually be so happy for what I’d found and so confused about why I’d resisted. Which was unfair, and unrealistic, it turns out.

However, in this time where I attempted to embrace this kind person I was not ready for, or perhaps not compatible with, I did a lot of reading. In my research, I discovered that going from toxic relationship to healthy relationship tends to come with common experiences like what I went through. The push/pull dynamic, weird trust building protest behaviour, hypervigilance and other wonderfully endearing qualities are likely to pop up. It was stated that the overwhelming experience will be that of doubt and skepticism over a perceived lack of ‘passion,’ a word that is often just used to explain the highs and lows of trauma bonding.

So, I asked myself (and google) what it takes to embrace the nice guy. How do I get out of this cycle and revel in stability? How do I develop a partnership with a person who can give me the family I want? The thing that was suggested was doing activities together that excited you, that increased your heart rate, got your blood moving. A study was done where men walked across one of two bridges. One was high, narrow and wobbly, the other wide, stable and low. At the end of each was the same woman. Research showed that the men who walked across the sketchy bridge were more strongly attracted to the woman. Their fear response, stress hormones and racing heart were attributed to attraction and romantic connection. The solution to boredom with a decent human? Jump out of a plane together!

This incredibly long preface brings me to the point of my reflection today. I am currently in Mexico. I’m actually in a plane bound from Mexico City to Puerto Vallarta as I write. I arrived on November 23rd into Cabo San Lucas, was unable to fly home on December 2nd after contracting COVID 19, and decided to stay indefinitely. It is now January 1st, 2022. I brought in the New Year on Medano beach submerged in warm water beneath the stars and the fireworks. I was with 3 beautiful humans I’ve met on my travels. As I swam, alone a moment amidst the chaos, I felt pure joy. So much gratitude, awe and love. I even laughed like a crazy lady!

I have been reflecting a lot on love. I felt deep, profound love for the man who I got pregnant with, struggled to find comparable love with someone who treated me like gold, and now find myself reveling in the universal love that I tap into whenever I travel. I feel love with relative strangers that sometimes appears to transcend the experience of those I’ve shared my life with for years, and I can’t help but question what happens when you collide with other explorers. At times I’ve attributed it to the presence that travel demands of you. As you roam new streets and jump accommodations, you need to pay attention more than when you drive the same road, to the same place, to see the same people. Not speaking the language forces you to connect with people differently, tune into subtleties, engage more fully. Perhaps the act of engaging in new challenges, crossing those metaphorical suspension bridges, is what spurs the unusual depth and openness.

The human need for belonging, a need not a want. As I move through different cities and spaces, I indulge wholeheartedly in the kindness of strangers. I cried in my hotel room this trip, while I navigated Montezumas revenge and the delusion of being all alone, feeling as though my cravings for saltines and my complete lack of energy to acquire them was more dire than it likely was. In the morning, a kind new friend brought me Electrolit drinks, probiotic yoghurt, and my much desired crackers and again, I cried. This time because of the exceptional kindness and compassion. This is only one of countless examples where I’ve been witness to the beauty of humanity and let it open my heart.

“Belonging takes shape on the grounds of shared experiences… connected through their common appreciation of what it’s like to find the thread of belonging over and over again. [It] feeds both an urgent hunger to connect and a quiet dread of the inevitable farewell. Sometimes it can feel like walking with one hand stretched out to the world- open, gentle, receptive- while the other hand is pressed against the heart-guarded and reserved- where the cut of the latest dis-attachment heals.”

I have remained more closed on this trip than many prior, but it’s shifting and, as it does, it is helping me to leave behind my pain and make space for new. As my heart gently unfurls, and my connections deepen, I feel the bittersweet-ness and immense allure of the human experience, the travel experience in particular.

I visited the art walk in San Jose del Cabo and stopped to admire a painting. I saw sadness and grief in the face of the subject, while my friend noted comfort and ease. We asked the artist what his intention had been and he simply responded with, “love.”

How true. How astute. How beautiful.

Fall Reflections

I haven’t wrote in a while, my few readers will likely have noticed! I have sat to do so several times, but haven’t found enough words to feel it worth posting. Today, I am determined to post despite not being sure I have much to say.

The thing I’ve been reflecting on lately is connection. I have a lot of amazing people in my life. However, this year I’ve come up against some interesting realizations that have temporarily, or permanently blocked some of those connections from existing within my life. I had a really close friend, who I’d been through hell and high water with, many times throughout the past 10 years. My experience was that our many disagreements left me feeling unheard and disrespected. I tended to dismiss this feeling and wash it away with justifications and attempts at acceptance that “that’s just how he is.” In a public forum, a fight we had had many times was witnessed. In that witnessing, my experience was validated by countless observers, and my strength to withstand it dissolved. We haven’t spoke since, and while I think of him often, I’m not sure how to resolve it, or if there is anything to resolve.

I continue to evaluate my relationships, particularly those that are near to my heart. I’ve withdrawn a lot, especially in the fall months. I find little reserves within myself to manage the tumultuous nature of the world we currently find ourselves in, and in that lack of resources, I am finding I need a different sort of connection. I’ve found myself reaching for the feminine energy in my life now more than ever. I finally see the difference, and value, in speaking with other women. I find more strength, more acceptance, and more kindness. Let me state, I do not believe these traits are sexed, I know many sensitive and kind men as well, but the understanding I’ve been experiencing in my lady tribe has been where I’ve been most drawn.

In this process, I have not so gracefully withdrawn from other connections. I find myself shutting down more easily when offended and far less willing to extend my energy where I do not feel ease and support. Perhaps this is how most people approach their lives? I’m not sure. Perhaps I’m hurting myself in distancing. It’s hard to say.

I remember a counselor telling me years ago that I put everyone on my inner ring. He talked of my being a planet and that it’s okay to determine some as more worthy than others to be on the ring closest to my orbit. That I could decide where to place connections and offer energy accordingly. I have always had trouble with this. For two reasons. First, I hate deciding who warrants more of my time and energy. I feel as though its judgmental and in denial of the spiritual union I’ve come to believe in. Second, I tend to open myself easily and see the best in people. This results in my making fast and deep bonds that I don’t foresee, or recognize, as being more harmful than not.

Right now, the ability to decipher seems to be coming out of necessity. Perhaps an ability to listen to myself more deeply. Perhaps a level of sheer exhaustion that doesn’t allow me the flexibility I once prided myself on. Regardless, I will continue to reach out to those who nurture me and try to judge my assessments less. I know that just because a relationship isn’t working for me in any given moment, it doesn’t mean there’s anything inherently wrong with it and that my taking care of myself doesn’t have to be a slight to another persons character.

The Fear

My friend asked me today why I don’t share when I’m struggling.  I’ve spent a decent amount of today pondering this very thing.  I told myself that my muddied mind and heavy heart wouldn’t be able to effectively communicate anything of value.  He suggested that the reminder that we are human and can rely on the support of others is a powerful message in itself.  I know this to be true.  Most of you would likely argue THAT to be the whole foundation of this blog you sit down with periodically.  It was my intention when I started it, to share openly about mental health in order to destigmatize and open dialogue.  Here I am waiting until the storm passes instead of getting vulnerable.

I think there is wisdom in waiting, especially in this format where a bleeding heart for an unknown audience could be unskillful.  But in the company of others with similar struggles, friends who are likeminded, it doesn’t make so much sense to be guarded.  So, I ask myself, what’s going on?

I think the root of it is fear.  I don’t want people to see my struggle to find my own self worth and realize I’m really not worthy.  I don’t want the people who easily identify and judge struggles within themselves to then hold mine against me.  I struggle to love myself when I can’t dig myself out of my sore spots, I’ve been surrounded by criticism, and witness to so much judgement.  I don’t know how to believe that people can love you even in your weeds.

When I don’t have a relationship with people, it doesn’t matter.  I’ll share anything, I have nothing to lose.  Maybe that’s why it’s easy for me to send these thoughts out into the void.  But when I care.  When I fear the end of a relationship, a loss.  I can’t handle it.  It overwhelms.  It hurts.  

I’m trying to take this awareness and explore what it might be like to share it.  To sit with the person who triggered things within me and speak it.  Honour it.  But when I can’t be consoled.  When I need to work through it on my own regardless.  When I need to sit with the feelings and find a way to transform them for myself.  Is there really value in airing the dirty laundry?  Putting your aching heart forward for people to hold in whatever light they wish?  Is that intimacy?  Is that vulnerability?  Is this how people deepen relationship?  Is there a time when this becomes safe?  Are there people in which to do so IS safe?  People that will hold space and really adore you anyways?

Maybe there’s only one way to find out.

Letting go

I sometimes believe this is the ultimate lesson in life.  My predominantly Buddhist education affirms that.  However, life in general does too.

I don’t like letting people go.  I’m not good at it either.  If I let someone in, they’re just in there.  Sometimes I can distance myself, but if ever they come back into my sphere, I mostly accept them with open arms.  I will always be happy to hear how my long last friend is doing.  I’ll always wish to connect where it’s possible.  I’ve travelled the world and been impacted by countless wonderful beings.  I’ve shared many weird and memorable moments.  I’ve wandered to cute cafes with handsome men and shared deep, inspired conversations about addiction.  I’ve stuffed a pillow in my shirt feigning pregnancy in an ashram with a beautiful woman from Brazil.  I’ve shared heartache and shopped trekking gear with an Aussie woman I trusted with my life.  I befriended a German woman who I still fantasize about connecting with over sweets in Croatia. 

I’ve had less substantial connections as well.  People I had brief conversations with over the internet, or people who I met outside a bar one night, and they’re in there too.  If someone’s shown me kindness, or shone light on something within me, they stick.  I’ve had more substantial connections too, of course.  A man who swept me off my feet and who showed me the relationship I want still, to this day.  A man I shared several homes with over 5 years who introduced me to aspects of myself I didn’t know I could bring to fruition, like owning my own business and creating something I could share with the world.

I’ve had weird situations where I didn’t even speak to a person but felt an energetic safety while lounging on mats under the sun on retreat.  I’ve shared a few words with someone at a bus stop or after an event.  Brief, seemingly insignificant exchanges that impacted the trajectory of my life.

I’m sure we can all say these things.  Other people are mirrors of ourselves and windows into our futures.  The briefest exchanges can make or break a day.  We have the ability to share kindness or shed light in the dark.  We have the ability to wound or to shake each others foundations.

People are perfectly imperfect, we can let them in and grow along side them, or we can take their potentially harmful behaviour and use it to guide us away from them and into the metaphorical, or literal, arms of those who can support us.  Regardless of who you are, or how we met, I’ve been changed by you.  Perhaps in a deep, unshakable way, or maybe in a way so subtle I’m not yet aware of it.  But you’ve impacted me, and I’m grateful for you.  Ultimately you’re still in my heart and I welcome you to say hi, to let me know how you are, and to share a reunion of spirits.  Sometimes, I wish that I could let some go fully, make more space in my heart.  But perhaps our hearts are boundless and the more we maintain and honour those slivers of connections, the more we can connect with those who cross our paths every day.  Or maybe we can honour while letting go, keeping them forever in our hearts with gratitude for how they shaped our lives. 

Fight for faith.

The past couple months of my life have been insane, unsettling and cloudy as fuck and my efforts at expressing it reflect that.  I fell hard.  I went into a depression likely worse than others I’ve been in before.  In my last post I mentioned that I was doing all the things I’ve known have helped in the past and not feeling much better.  Well, it got worse.

I was fighting to feel better, and I was fighting hard.  Which is unusual for me.  Historically, I’ve stopped.  I’ve struggled to get in the shower in the morning, never mind out the house to do something good for me.  The scary thing was that it wasn’t helping.  I’d have moments of reprieve, for sure, but then I’d resist any thoughts of hope because I couldn’t fathom a life filled of ups and downs.  I understood that things would get better, but I didn’t want to feel better for even a moment because I knew it could, and realistically would, be ripped out from under me again.  I felt I couldn’t go on.  I didn’t want to.  I felt like I was asking my closest friends and, even my mom, for permission to go.

I know that this particular low was so bad because I lost faith.  I listened to the voices, both in my head and around me, that told me there is nothing.  There’s no bigger purpose, there’s no higher power, there’s no meaning.  And while some people can operate in the world from that place, I cannot.  If I believe there’s no after life, no divine guidance, no rhyme or reason, or at least the possibility of, I can’t carry on.

I used to think it was weak to believe in things.  I saw people turn to faith to explain the horrible things that happened to them or find strength within them.  I thought faith a denial of reality.  An inability to deal with reality.  Sometimes I can feel that again.  I spent years beating it into my bones and I had to fight my way out of the view of the world, but its still within me. 

I was reading something by Mark Manson this morning (the guy who wrote the subtle art of not giving a f*&%, and others) and he told the story of two guys sitting in a bar in Alaska talking about God.  In the story the one man is sharing a tale of being stranded in the cold and praying to God that he be saved.  The other fella comments that this guy is here now, so it must have worked!   The first man says, “nah, some Eskimos came along and saved me.” 

This sums it up.  You can choose to believe that Eskimos came to save you, or you can believe they were sent to answer your prayers.  There is no proof of existence or non-existence.  If it serves someone to believe that they were sent by a higher being, why would it be weak to do so?  I now feel admiration for those who unquestioningly believe.  Those who have unshakable faith.  Those who can meet situations with grace because of an undeniable connection to something greater.  Those who in the face of horror can still believe in something taking care of them and offering them opportunities to grow.  That’s a kind of strength and commitment I can’t yet fully grasp.

Many intelligent scientists believe in something too.  The closer to the root of everything they get, the more awe and wonder they experience, and the less able they are to explain things in any other way.  Does that not say something quite powerful in itself?

I had an experience I’m not exactly ready or willing to share in detail yet, but it restored my faith.  I felt guided against my doubt and my will.  I had someone show up in a unique way to walk me through my pain and help me surrender.  Someone who I trust now in a whole different way who helped me choose and continue to choose life.  I’m still trying to erase the message that there’s nothing because if there’s no definitive proof either way, why not operate from a place of believing.  Especially when it’s life or death.

 I’d love to hear your stories too.  Feel free to comment or message me your experiences of finding or affirming your faith <3

The Holiday Post

I want to get a post out before the season has completely passed us by. I love this time of year. I like the lights and the trees indoors. I enjoy the gatherings and the food. I look forward to hunkering down with my family for a couple days to eat, walk and rest. And while I mostly can’t sit through an entire movie, I’m even a suck for Christmas flicks, though 99% of them are cheesy romances that leave me in tears.

This year was particularly special for a few reasons. One was that my nephew is of an age where he’s actively wanting to participate in all the traditional things like gingerbread houses, tree hunting and decorating, even making and wrapping gifts! Another is that I happened upon a lot of time off to enjoy these things with him. My whole family (minus my ma) went to cut down trees at the tree farm. My nephew and I built the most gaudy gingerbread house I’ve ever seen. I got to go shed tears while I watched my nephew sing in his Christmas concert and I had him over and helped him assemble a bracelet for himself and his dad.

Another joy of this year was that I didn’t shop much. I opted to give little. Partly because I had all this time off to do the fun things, because I was not making the money… But also, partly because it’s not really what it’s about and it’s often a stressful addition. I even made one of my moms gifts, something that I love to do, but haven’t had the time for the last few years. (It was a travel case for carrying her paintbrushes to her art classes, if you’re wondering.)

With all this time off, I also managed other things I may not have otherwise. I was energetically able to attend gatherings I likely wouldn’t have prioritized if I were working full time. Not because I don’t like to attend, but because energy management is a real thing for me. Anyways, I made it to the potluck at the place I volunteer and had a lovely meal and meaningful conversation with other counselors. I made it to a potluck with my sister circle, and enjoyed time around a tree with some great women that have contributed to my healing in the past year in unique ways. I was able to go connect with some of my sangha over food and drink, rather than in silence. Although, I even managed to slip into a weekend silent retreat for a few days amongst it all!

Normally I’m wrapped up in Christmas markets, but this year I decided to only do two and they fell on the same weekend. I still got to participate in the vendor experience, that has it’s highs and lows but that I ultimately quite enjoy, but I didn’t have to slave away or exhaust myself. While grateful for the funds they provided me with, again it was more about the enjoyment of connecting with other vendors, supporting locals, and of course, swapping goodies!

I feel like I could go on, I’m that grateful this season, but I’ll wrap it up with one last lovely adventure. We used to drive around as a kid and count the houses with lights. Every year I wish to do things like carriage rides through downtown Victoria, the Ladysmith light up, or Butchart gardens. Every year, I suppose I’m too busy, or tired, or bogged down to get my butt there. This year, a lovely human I’ve connected with, took me to Butchart. We wandered around all the beautiful lights both before dark and after. While I TOTALLY missed the point until quite a ways through (I thought, hmm that’s weird, why are there chickens eating pastries by the Eiffel tower?- It wasn’t until we got to what I found the weirdest of them all, a bunch of ghostly looking women surrounding a cow, that I realized they were the 3 French hens and the 8 maids a milking…) I found it absolutely beautiful. (I did also drive through Ladysmith a few times to get my fill during my various trips down island.)

With so much free time, I also decided to search out volunteer opportunities. I connected with the Salvation Army and signed up to bring meals to the elderly who are otherwise spending Christmas entirely alone. I ended up falling ill and being unable to deliver, but was presented with a different opportunity to feed the homeless on the 27th when I was feeling a little better. Every year I fantasize about hosting an assembly sandwich making afternoon and delivering but I’ve never known how to go about it or what hoops to jump through. This year, the opportunity fell into my lap (and someone else dealt with the police and bylaw officers to boot!) and, while I was sad to not be able to help out at the Salvation Army, I’m grateful to have made it out yesterday.

Anyways, I wanted to share all this because I’m happy I suppose. It was a nice holiday season full of what I believe it to be meant for. As we approach New Years Eve, I’m delving into two new jobs, wrapping up my current one, volunteering and preparing to venture to Victoria for yoga teacher training. The calm and quiet is making way for an overabundance of development, but you know what? I feel prepared, and even excited, to roll with it.

I know that not everyone has this kind of experience over the holidays. I know a LOT of people are overworked. I know a lot of people are around family that they mostly can’t stand, I know a lot of sober people fight to be around the party and I know a few people who got particularly heavy news. I know some people are alone and some people are on the streets. I know that not everyone is nice, not everyone has warm experiences of Christmas. And I’ve had those years too. However, which ever way this season is landing for you, I hope you can find moments of rest. I hope you can find moments of stillness in nature. I hope you can find some light in the darkest days of the year. I wish you a Merry Christmas. And a very happy new year.

Retreat

I am painfully aware that it has been a significant length of time since I last wrote and posted.  I’ve decided to do my best to get a check in of sorts out into the abyss of the internet so that I may reinvigorate my commitment to write more frequently. 

I think I last wrote shortly before departing on a month-long meditation retreat.  I will likely share a bit about that amongst some other reflections.  I’ll start by saying that normally, on retreat, students are expected to refrain from writing, with the exception of taking notes during classes.  This means that for the month of retreat, I gave up my morning writing practice.  I’ll go on to say that while my intention for the month was to be in one place going deep into a silent practice, the reality of the situation was quite different.  I arrived at my chosen destination to discover I was being put up in a shared, and not so quiet space.  I then found out the teachings I anticipated being able to attend were mostly closed off to the volunteers.  These things, on top of being in close proximity to someone I had not wrapped my head around being more than silent with, were enough to propel a change of plans.

I was speaking to my meditation teacher via phone throughout these discoveries and she helped me decide if I was “mat rolling” (a term I learned in this process that refers to bailing out of fear or discomfort, rather than out of wisdom and self care) or if I was, in fact, doing what was best for me.  In the end I decided to stay for the first 10 day retreat that was being held and then depart.  

I let go of the idea of being in silent and deep retreat and, instead, embraced the connections blossoming amongst the volunteers, resident monks and lamas.  I attended what classes and sits I could amongst my chores and used the social opportunity to ask questions.  I have been a student who sits at the front of the class, listens intently to the teacher, and then goes home.  Engaging with the fellow students, or even the teacher beyond scheduled interviews, was not something I’ve been very interested in.  Until recently.  So, you can imagine, with the breadth of thousands of years of teachings, I have some questions!  Being in the company of more dedicated practitioners with more years of practice was very enlightening. 

While finishing my time at the Hermitage, I also planned to leave Denman Island and travel to a friend’s place on Galiano to finish the month solo and in silence.  My teacher, a very busy and successful woman, was off teaching in conferences around Hawaii and the U.S. so she arranged for me to connect with her teacher on the long, little island.  I downloaded a bunch of her past dharma talks and guided meditations, packed up a bunch of art supplies to work with a visualization practice, and off I went. 

Her teacher, Lama Mark Webber, runs a retreat center on Galiano called Crystal Mountain.  I was blessed to attend retreat there in the summer, and also a mini weekend retreat the few days before I’d left for Denman.  Anyhow, I left for Galiano expecting to be on my own with one interview to ask questions and instead was approved to attend two weeks of the four-and-a-half-month long retreat he was/is in the middle of teaching.  The experience was strong, intellectual, often scientific information.  Mostly two classes per day and a study group in the afternoon to play with and explore concepts.  Very different than what I was used to, but I believe what very much I needed.

I finished the month with a short retreat at the Bethleham Center here in Nanaimo.  This was where Lama Mark approved me receiving audio recordings as the classes continue, so my morning writing practice continues to suffer.  I often allow myself an hour or two to listen and follow along in the text.  However, with more and more to process, I’m feeling drawn to finding the time to write as well, and so decided to post today.

I’ve gone on long enough, so I just want to sum up my experience and leave further details and images (I went for a lot of hikes, and Galiano is awe strikingly beautiful) for another day.  While this experience was not at all what I’d prepared for, even fretted about, it was amazing in a lot of ways.  I felt ready for more knowledge, I was feeling more curious to go deeper into the philosophy and that was exactly what was offered to me in a variety of ways.  I’d felt lots of pull to Galiano and Lama Mark in previous retreats throughout the summer and was blessed to end up there learning in great depth from him.  And perhaps the biggest take away, was I was busy.  I didn’t get to slow way down and find deep stillness which has been characteristic of other retreats.  I instead was chopping wood, making food, walking lots, driving up and down Galiano, speaking some and practicing a traditional, seated practice very little.  Why is this so awesome, you might ask?  Because, for the first time, I had a period to practice building meditation, contemplation and study into my daily life, into my connections and into my obligations.  I’ve found it so much easier to return home and dedicate space to continuing on.  I’ve experienced great shifts without having to be in a state that isn’t so accessible outside of a typical retreat environment.  I believe this will help me immensely moving forward and though I feel ready to delve into a month of proper retreat sometime soon, I’m also really grateful for the way this month turned out.

Those you keep close.

I’m late again! One of these days I may just push it to Monday as my weekends seem to disappear ever so quickly. Anyways, I’m going to share a bit about excitement this week.

I learned somewhere in my training to counsel others that physiologically, the same thing happens in our body when we’re excited as when we’re anxious, but the thoughts we have are what determine the emotion. Since learning this I’ve given extra attention when anxious to the thoughts I have and whether I can adjust them to change how I interpret my feelings, and what I’ve often noticed is that I fluctuate from one to the other. Sometimes quite quickly.

Currently, well in the next hour or so, I’m embarking on a short road trip to Victoria to explore a potential avenue of personal and professional development. I’ve been flip flopping between gleeful excitement and hesitant anxiety. I imagine a life in which it all works out and I’m employed in a meaningful and excited way with all sorts of freedoms and feel stoked, and then I flip to the fact my beau and I will be apart longer and our relationship challenged. I imagine instead that I spend all this money and energy and still lack confidence or direction, and I, of course, feel trepidations and anxious about moving forward.

I do believe there to be a link between things like how well I’m feeding myself or how much rest I’m getting and which story happens but the biggest thing I’ve noticed in my week of anticipation is that it makes the most difference in who I’m talking with about it.

The people who express generous and genuine interest and enthusiasm help pump me up. They are encouraging my exploration and enhancing my confidence to pursue it. And, you know what, in that energy of dialogue, it doesn’t even matter so much if I do go and spend all the money and not end up where my heart desires.

They say to choose your friends wisely and that you’re most like those you keep close. I continue to evaluate the overarching themes in my support and work on believing I’m worth it and deserving of those that hold me in high esteem and still possess a love and curiousity about life and all it’s experiences, thus inspiring me, getting me through the prevalent self doubt and bringing me closer to an excited, expansive existence.

That’s all from me this week. I’ll hopefully have some exciting news or some thorough reflections for you all next week. Until then!

What I’m learning about love from a feral fur baby.

I’ve had sweet Yuri for about 3 months now.  My beau and I adopted him shortly after our Franco died.  It may have been too soon, but it helped soothe me to have another fur baby to love.  I fell in love with him after scoping out the SPCA website and seeing his photos. He’s a handsome, small grey and white cat with extra toes on his front paws so it looks like he’s perpetually wearing little kid mittens (known as polidactyl.)  

He’s also a rescue cat that was taken from a hoarder that was housing around 100 cats. He was essentially feral and I can only imagine they way he was treated. He did make his way into a foster home that couldn’t keep him and then spent roughly a month at the SPCA. The first few days at home I kept him locked in the bathroom. I have a chair that resides there, which he hid under, and I brought in a chair for me. They encouraged me to read aloud to him to help him get used to me and my voice. I didn’t mind this at all as I spend most of my time reading anyways, and actually love reading aloud to my nephew (and my partner the occasional time he’s in the mood.)  I was also encouraged to feed him off a long spoon to get him familiar with being in close proximity. ENCOURAGED to spoon feed and read to my cat? Rather than ridiculed for it? Amazing.

Yuri is slowly becoming more comfortable.  He started scooting around the room while I was reading.  I let him out into the rest of the house a few days in and he seemed to adapt well.  He’s a curious little guy. He sniffed around, found his favourite resting spots and his favourite windowsill, bird watching spots.  He got used to eating off my fingers fairly quickly too, and within a couple weeks would bring his front paws onto my knee to do so. But he would still always hiss.  If I came in the room, he’d jump off the couch and under the coffee table hissing all the way. He’d hiss even as he came towards me to eat off my hand. And while he’s since made leaps and bounds in his progress, he still hisses when I walk down the hall behind him too fast or touch him while he’s sleeping beside me.

But the biggest steps were made this past few weeks.  He’s started sleeping with me. At first only at night, but now he’ll nestle up next to me while I read or work on my computer too.  The hardest part has been not being able to pat him. He’s always flinched and squirmed away (normally hissing) whenever I’ve reached a hand out towards him that wasn’t slathered in wet food.  But this past week, he let me pet him. I was feeding him this disgusting cat soup from Thrifty’s (my hands ALWAYS smell like cat food these days…) and he let me touch him. I pet his cheek and chin, a little on his head, behind his ears.  It was glorious.

I’ve learned so much from this animal.  Franco was the best cat, really truly. He was sweet and snuggly.  He would always come lay on me and purr his little heart out. He would knead on me (sometimes on my shoulders while I lay on my stomach and I swear he was doing his best to repay the favour of so many pats) and he did it without claws, which we patented as happy pawing.  He would follow us around and run when we called him. We had him from a kitten and he always let me play with his toes and push out his claws and whenever we cut his nails, we’d wrap him in a towel so he couldn’t scratch us and he’d just purr away. He was so sweet, and we loved him so much, and his time on earth was much too short.  

But Yuri.  This Yuri. He’s taught me how to love in an entirely different way.  I want so badly to snuggle and pat him. I’m a physical touch person and it’s so hard to not just pick him up.  It’s been months of being patient, going slow, and finding as much joy as possible in the limited, but awesome, shifts.  I’ve come to appreciate our time while I hand feed him. I’ve come to find some much happiness by him just trusting enough to lay next to me, and then to not feel the need to look over at me if I move, and ever so slowly to let me touch him with minimal to no aversion.  I enjoy watching him play and hunt. I love that I can say no when he scratches even a little on the carpet, and he hears me and stops. I love that he meows back at me when I talk to him. I’ve so enjoyed just being part of his opening process and I have found love for him in an unusual way.  It’s not effortless and perfect as it was with Franco, or my first family cat Gus, but it’s developing in a rather special and wonderful way.

If you are in the process of socializing feral cats you’ll find tips like these useful.  

  1. Don’t let them have full reign of the house right away as it may overwhelm.  
  2. Feed them off your hand, and often, to get them comfortable with you.  
  3. There are sprays that mimic cat hormones and are meant to help with stress.  Try spraying them on their favourite resting spots.
  4. There are cat trees to give the kitty a high vantage point to watch the household, they feel safe when they can see the whole room.  These are expensive and often quite space consuming, but clearing off a high surface they can access will work too.
  5. Try the sweet little cave cat beds so they can hide and feel secure.  

I’ve since tried almost all of them, the spray seems to have led to the biggest breakthroughs.

I wish you luck, and invite you to message me with any tips or tricks you’ve found useful!

When to do and when not to do.

In the last few weeks I’ve continued to come across this threshold where I’m meant to decide between two things that are important to me.  Sometimes it’s little things, like if I decide to go home early and get a good night sleep or if I decide to go to some event that will likely fill my cup and sacrifice some sleep.  Sometimes it’s been bigger things, like deciding if I move away from my family, particularly my little nephew, in order to be nearer my love to help our relationship. But regardless of the weight of the decision, I’ve found it be very difficult to know how to prioritize.

I’ll start with something personal.  I committed to myself, at the beginning of this year when I was searching for sparks in the winter darkness, that I would write every day.  I committed to 3 pages in a journal every morning, plus a weekly post on my blog. In the last week especially, I’ve found myself to be very busy.  I received extra shifts at work, I’m hosting a fundraiser, I agreed to open a space for the meditation group I’m part of, and my spare time became sparse and my need for rest greater.  In my head, I committed to 3 pages of journaling and a blog post, so yesterday when between my cleaning shift and opening the door for meditation, I couldn’t finish 3 pages, even though I did spend a couple hours on my computer working with different ideas for my Sunday post, I felt that I’d let myself down.  I tell myself that it’s a slippery slope, I rationalize missing a page of my 3 pages and next thing I know, it’s summer and I haven’t written in months.

Also within the last couple weeks, I distanced myself from someone who was really not showing up for me.  Cancelling plans at the last minute, went from checking in every couple days with exclamation points and emoji’s to one word responses, and from being persistent about hanging out to barely fitting a visit in in a few weeks.  So, I told myself all those things “don’t prioritize someone who isn’t prioritizing you,” “people show you who they are,” and whatever other hard hitting memes popped into my head. Despite my hopes for a friendship, I distanced myself telling myself that there is no reason for his behaviour other than him just being flaky and disinterested in a friendship, and so I removed myself to protect myself.

And perhaps the hardest contemplation has been the infamous choice that was presented in September when my live in partner accepted a spot in the Masters of FIne Arts program at the University of Calgary, do I stay or do i go.  I have a wonderful, nearly 4 year old nephew. My whole family lives on the same property and I love them. We see each other daily, we talk and text, and we have dinners almost weekly. They’re important to me and they’re my friends as much as my family.  So when Calgary came into the picture, I was more interested in a long distance relationship than a departure from my hearts home. However, after living apart for 7 months now, I find that I am not embracing the time alone quite as I’d imagined. I pictured myself focusing so much on me that I find my daily sadhana and rebuild connections and all those wonderful things, but the reality is that I’m finding a struggle to maintain work that allows me to travel back and forth often to visit, while also paying enough to be able to afford to do so on top of living expenses and paying off debts.  I also found that I devoted a lot of time to people like the person mentioned above, who’s behaviour was feeding my negative self talk and self doubt. So I now wonder if a new adventure, a new city, new work, new people, would in fact be exciting and challenging in a way I desperately need. And so I contemplate departing from my family, missing a lot of the next year of my nephews life, and ultimately taking a great leap into the unknown.

There are many other things of various importance that have shown up.  I currently reside in a fairly encompassing state of uncertainty. For whatever reason, I’m reevaluating all of my titles and where I disperse my energy.  I am constantly considering whether what I’m doing resonates with me and whether or not I should continue on the path I’m on.

I have been a practitioner of meditation for many years, and will likely always reference reading material, or wise teachers words, or personal reflections from this practice in my writing, and for good reason.  I went to a talk yesterday that was focused on the power of breath meditation to help us into reality. In any given moment, while on a cushion in meditation, the only thing that is really happening is your body is residing in a somewhat comfortable position, breathing itself.  Everything beyond that, maybe even whether or not you are comfortable, is a creation in your mind.

I know this to be true, I’ve observed it for years.  However, when I sit down to contemplate these various uncertainties, I have trouble tuning in and seeing most of these choices are hard simply because I attach a nightmare-ish story to them.  I can choose to move or not, I will live in Calgary or not. I can choose to distance myself from this relationship, or I can choose to see their behaviour as only a reflection of them and accept it.  That is the reality. The idea that I’ll miss this or lose that is just my fear mind keeping me in limbo. And I could see myself staying in the turmoil of uncertainty and fear as long as I have the opportunity to make the decision unless I find some clarity.  Some vision of reality. Some true and unwavering understanding of everything being impermanent. So I suppose my answer of ‘when to do or not do’ is simply to make a choice when you know you are seeing clearly.

So, just for today, I am going to try and stay with my breath filling and leaving my body.  My heart pumping blood to my organs and limbs. My subconscious that effortlessly gets me safely from one place to another in a fast moving hunk of metal.  And let the rest fall away. Spend some time awake to reality rather than in the nightmares my mind creates, and maybe this will help me find my way.