Awakening Choice

The art of crafting

2012-01-25T01:06:00.001-05:00

This past Christmas I was rendered speechless by a powerful feeling of love that enveloped me as I walked into my client's room. I felt as if I'd been dropped into place of magic; so transformed was her previously sparse abode.

My client lives in a nursing home, her space is essentially a bedroom with a shared bathroom. As is the case in most of these environments the rooms tend to be spare and simply decorated. Pictures and seasonal cards are hung on walls and bulletin boards. Few items, labelled with the owner's identity, are displayed on dressers simply because as they say, "They have legs and tend to walk away". At this stage of life valuables tend to be held in safe keeping by family members and are rarely ever seen again by their former owner.

My client's daughter, visiting from a far off country, had spent the hours in the company of her elderly, physically compromised mother, decorating her room with found items. During walks with her wheelchair bound Mom she gathered boughs of evergreens.

"Mary" arranged them as you see in the picture. Hung on the branches were numerous, tiny, felted, solid, swirls of coloured balls wrapped in spun yarn, brought from her home miles away. Angels of loose, dry felt floated from pictures and lamps; the light shining through giving them an ethereal air. A star fashioned in the same manner provided a focal point on the make-shift Christmas tree.

Little felted pieces of art scattered here and there rewarded seeking eyes. Stones and winter berry bearing branches further transformed the room into a forest cabin retreat of calm, heart felt beauty.

When I raved about what I saw and felt, Mary simply responded, "I'm not an artist. I just do crafting. I'm a crafter." Which I took as a modest judgement of her ability, until a few weeks later when I came across Chapter 7 CREATIVE ART AS A BRIDGE in AWAKENING TO THE SPIRIT WORLD - The Shamanic Path of Direct Revelation by Sandra Ingerman & Hank Wesselman. In it she talks about the art of crafting in Shamanic practice.

Her craft of choice is spinning. As she spins she meditates on the quality with which she wants the yarn to be filled such as: love, light, peace etc. While crocheting the yarn into a blanket or scarf for someone she focuses on the words of power that she's placing into each stitch of the item she's making. In this way her creation is filled with power and healing.

Now, I don't know if this is what the daughter meant by the word "crafter" but, this is what I felt when I walked in the room and spent time there with Mary and her mother surrounded by objects made with love and intention. Love, joy and peace were palpable.

Carol Proudfoot-Edgar calls this type of practice "soul-crafting". The main intention, she says is "to craft our souls through our hands - to create art and objects infused with spirit power."(pg. 147)

You can do this with anything you make, including food. Doing daily tasks while focusing on a healing intention creates the same effect.

Ode to Victoria

2012-01-21T23:34:00.010-05:00

I loved Victoria B.C. I just couldn't make a living there. I struggled for 4 years to work on my cartoon strip while I housesat and worked at various jobs to pay rent on my studio space, provide for basic necessities, art supplies and fund mailers containing full sized packets of cartoons - 6 weeks worth of dailies, Sunday pages, character bios and an introduction into the world in which they lived.

In need of a break and some family TLC, I scraped together enough money to return home to visit with family and friends. At an evening get-together as my friends talked about their homes, husbands and children or of exciting single lives with well paying jobs it became apparent to me that the reality of my life was something they could not imagine. Maybe I really was, as a sister-in-law had thought of me at that time - a Don Quixote of sorts.

A year after I wrote this poem, at the age of 34, I gave up my quest, made my way back to Ontario and moved in to my folk's place in search of a new beginning. I did not know then the unexpected turn my life would take.

Cartoon and poem © Nance Thacker 1985

Dream Lovers

2012-01-18T23:35:00.000-05:00

DREAMS ARE SOUL JOURNEYS

INTO UNLIMITED POSSIBILITIES

TO UNCOVER THEIR WISDOM IS A PRACTICED ART

OF CALLING OUT AND RECEIVING FROM THE HEART

poem © Nance Thacker 2012

Artwork © Nance Thacker 1983

This art originally appeared on the cover of Yoga Centre of Victoria Newsletter, Feb. 1983.

Dreams & Synchronicity - our teachers

2012-01-08T15:23:00.002-05:00

SATURDAY JAN 7/12:
There were no dreams hovering around my awareness as I awakened this morning. Disturbing myself as little as possible, I lay on one side and then the other, but none came to call or even brushed by me. But, I'm not disappointed as there are many different ways of accessing the Dreamtime. One of my favourite is to pull a card from an amazing deck that I've used since the lomi training with Harriette and Birgit in 2005.

My mind drifts and floats in nothingness as I shuffle the Journey to Kanaka Makua cards. Unless clarification is needed I will only seek guidance from one card today. This deck is stunning in its clarity and accuracy, so one is usually sufficient. The deck fans out in my hands and my fingers find the one in 49 that is the vibrational match.

AHI - Fire emerges.

From within the message, these words feel important and right and are recorded in my journal:
"Burn away what stops you. Make way for the new." and "To create and destroy".

I don't seek out what is stopping me, from what am I being stopped, nor what new thing is coming my way. Rather I feed the cats, move to my mat for my yoga session, prepare for and treat my clients and later clear the bathroom for Rod to begin our long planned renovation. I keep Flippy and Maya company downstairs as bashing and crashing resounds from their upstairs lair and open up the book AWAKENING TO THE SPIRIT WORLD - the Shamanic Path of Direct Revelation, to where I left off last night. At the top of the next page - page 103 is A FIRE CEREMONY. Authors Ingerman and Wessleman describe this ceremony used to release core beliefs that are blocking one from using their creativity to its fullest and living ones' life purpose. Fire with the power to destroy, transform, transmute and create is the perfect vehicle for this task. They describe how to discover your blocking belief(s) or attitude, create a symbolic power object and imbue it with these qualities. The object is then burned in ceremony releasing these blocks in the process.

As I was typing this blog I referred back to my journal entry to make sure that I have the wording of the message from the cards correct and I'm drawn to glance through my previous night's dream. Something, I can't recall just what, is calling me. My last recorded dream describes a small fetish wearing blue and wrapped with a leather cord. I can call up the image as vividly now as I experienced it in the dream. I was curious about it but gave it no other thought once I began my day. Ingerman and Wesselman describe such a stick with some yarn wrapped around it and perhaps a letter or picture.

The synchronicity of these events is staggering. I have been given an answer to the question I'd posed before dreaming the other night How can I move forward and manifest my dream workshops? and was shown a vehicle to help make it so. To make it all the more clear I was provided with a book that explains just what this is, how to make it and its ceremonial purpose.

As I walked today I meditated on these blockages, recalled my dream object and later crafted it out of found and natural objects. The monthly fire ceremony in Ancaster is tonight, I will go as planned and burn it all away.

Note: I haven't taken a picture of the object. Once it has served its purpose it is meant to be destroyed.

JUST STEP IN IT!

2012-01-03T23:07:00.001-05:00

I love a bright, sparkly, shiny, New Year better than any other time of year! It holds so much promise for newness or at least freshened resolve to try yet one more time to make it a great one.
Take this observation that I posted on FB just the other day...

If I could step into opportunity the way I step into cat poo, I'd be unstoppable. How is it possible that in a space of 1100 square feet, my foot (unbeknownst to the rest of me) smells it and makes a bee line to it like a fly on shit. PBG (poopy butt girl) strikes again. She gets a butt shave and the house is sanitized within an inch of its life.

I know this doesn't sound very promising, but if you really look at it, it's surreal, kind of like a dream.

TITLE: I'll call it - STEPPING INTO OPPORTUNITY. Feels better already, doesn't it? Better than STEPPING INTO CAT POO.

FEELING: How do I feel in the "dream"? You'd think my primary feeling would be pissed off, but it's not. It is amazement!

REALITY CHECK: How can this possibly happen with such unerring accuracy? I find it especially significant that Rod NEVER EVER smells it nor steps in it. Why just the other day, the warm, wafting odour of freshly made poo found its way all the way down to the nasal receptors of the thing that lives at the bottom of the stairs (that would be me). I followed its trail like a bloodhound in search of a missing child. I sniffed my way up the stairs and all through the ground floor, then up another flight of stairs and directly to the top floor only to find the steaming pile not 2 feet away from Rod who was merrily, obliviously surfing the web. Though there was an exception to the rule in that I didn't step in the pile, the incident proved categorically that this delivery is for me and me alone.
So, does this happen in real life? Of course it does :)
Is it likely to happen in the future? Of course it will :(
Are the people in the "dream" acting like they do in waking life? Yes.
Could it be a metaphor for something else...? Here's where it turns around as evidenced by my opening sentence. If I could step into opportunity the way I step into cat poo, I'd be unstoppable. And this leads me to...

WHAT DO I WANT TO KNOW about the dream: Could I step into opportunity the way I step into cat poo? What if I was able to refine my sense of smell, a primary survival instinct which resides in the first chakra and the primitive brain, to sniff out opportunity? What if I was able to step unerringly into opportunity just like I do cat poo, without agonizing about it or trying to figure it out, just going with the flow and letting it find me; without weighing the pros and cons, doubting myself and my abilities but just trusting that, YES I CAN STEP IN IT! Not only that, but I WILL STEP IN IT with as much total conviction as I do with poo. WOW I truly would be unstoppable. The world would be my oyster instead of a steaming pile of shit (note, in real life I don't feel that life is a steaming pile of shit, it just makes a nice comparison).

HONOUR: How will I honour my "dream"?
Go with the flow, do what I love and let opportunity find me. Stop resisting and putting up barriers when things are going my way. Trust that, when it comes to my "big dreams" I too can have them become reality, just like they do for so many people I know.

BANNER: JUST STEP IN IT!

Wow, I love a bright and shiny New Year!
May you all have the best year ever and remember to JUST STEP IN IT!

KEEPING THE WOLVES AT BAY

2011-12-13T21:56:00.000-05:00

I woke up today with a dream that had occurred on many levels, containing strong and unsettling sensations. It was one of those dreams that you just want to shoo under the bed and ignore, but the feeling hung upon me like a heavy weight. This sense remained even after I'd recorded the dream and done the lightning dreamwork process I've learned from Robert Moss. I realized that in order to go deeper I needed to re-enter the dream as I lay there in a still somewhat hypnogogic state. As I re-entered my dream I found myself taking a broad overview in that:

I viewed what was occurring from a higher vantage point in terms of my visual perspective
I saw the dream events happening concurrently

Immediately this phrase came into my head I'M KEEPING THE WOLVES AT BAY; accompanied by a strong visceral sensation of physical tension and exhaustion.

Though there were no wolves in the dream the peoples in it were like wolves who had trapped their prey (I and my people) as they gathered and awaited in a bay offshore in huge galleons prepared to attack our small, peaceful, agrarian island. We had no choice but to surrender. I was organizing the colony to prepare a welcome. I would go out to meet our conquerors and arrange terms takeover and peaceful co-habitation. As I set out I was somewhat relieved and optimistic (this threat must have been hanging over us for a long time) perhaps some good will come of this I told myself.

As soon as I committed that phrase to paper I felt relief as an AH HA moment washed over me. The feeling in my dream and the one crawling under my skin were congruent and had been named. That's how I'm feeling, accompanied by a sense of loss and sorrow (the latter emotions are not new to me, they arise just before Christmas every year). I told myself, just get through it (these emotions) you know it will pass as it always does, but today I agreed to rather let it and all associated thoughts, sensations and emotions pass through me because it will pass as it always does and went about the day's activities mindful of this intention.

This afternoon during a pre-shiatsu discussion my client comments that she's KEEPING THE WOLVES AT BAY with self-care preventative measures so that she won't have more difficulty later on or have to resort to more invasive therapy after recently suffering a motor vehicle accident.

OK you've got to look deeper into this, I told myself.

So here's what I found:

If you keep the wolves at bay you make enough money to avoid going hungry or falling heavily into debt (UsingEnglish.com)
TO KEEP AT BAY - to keep someone or something at a safe distance - the bay tree was supposed to have protective powers and it is said that the bay laurel was used as a remedy during the time of the Great Plague of London. Abai is the Old French word for "barking of hounds in a pack" the English word baying as of hunting hounds shares the root. This source goes on to talk about French idioms connected with stag hunting used when the stag tires of the chase and turns to face the pursuing hounds and at this point the stag is itself at bay as it holds the hounds at bay which conveys the sense of the English phrase. Source: http://users.tinyonline.co.uk/gswithenbank/sayindex.htm

Morning meditation

2011-11-22T22:24:00.002-05:00

ANDY ROONEY knew what he was doing

2011-11-21T00:08:00.003-05:00

Last week I posted this entry on Face Book:
______________________________________________________
I'm grossed out. No wonder we're buried under so much stuff.
Rod and I went to an outlet mall. He can't get clothes to fit him here. What's that all about? We do have short Canadians too. Anyway...
at EVERY store we were told:
"If you buy one more, you get it for 1/2 price."
"Here's a coupon for 40% off if you buy something in the next 2 months."
"If you sign up for our customer card you'll be updated on our specials and receive discounts on selected items."
DO WE REALLY NEED THAT MUCH STUFF? And how much more are you going to spend than you intended in order to get the discount? Just say'n, think about it.
______________________________________________________
One of my friends responded, "Hmmmm... I think you may be our next Andy Rooney..." which I found interesting because Rod and I had recently been talking about him with another couple (A & L) a few nights after we'd heard of Rooney's death. It went something like this...
L: I don't think any one of us will ever retire.
NOTE: We are all self-employed. No work = no pay. Company pension? ...ha, ha, ha.

Me: You got that right. Besides I like what I do.

L: It's not so much me; I don't think A wants to.

A: Well you can only travel so much. When you retire what are you going to do the rest of the time?

Me: Ya, I don't think it's such a good idea. Especially for men, I mean look what happened to Andy Rooney.

L: Yup, retired and 2 weeks later... dead!

R: But the guy was 92 years old, he was worn out.

Me: Ya, but he enjoyed what he did, made it to 92 and then when he'd had enough he checked out. That's pretty good.

Truth be told, there's something else that freaks me and most of my female friends out about their husbands retiring...

AWAKENING CHOICE DREAMS

2011-11-11T12:06:00.002-05:00

Everything that exists began as a dream.

You don’t have to sleep to dream. Dreams weave their way into our consciousness through daily coincidences, synchronicity and flights of fancy. Dreaming connects us with our Heart, Soul and Inner Wisdom. When we know how to dream lucidly we can reclaim parts of ourselves we thought we had lost and in so doing restore our personal power & well-being. Nightmares bear unresolved important messages and lessons because they are, as Robert Moss says, "Unfinished" dreams. When we journey for resolution in what I call the dream fields (different levels of dream states) their energy is transmuted. As we gain proficiency in the skill of active lucid dreaming we empower and heal ourselves, our relationships and our environment.

One of the easiest ways to develop the skill of lucid dreaming is to re-enter a dream. Sounds impossible? It's really very easy and you do it all of the time. Whenever you recall a dream (or anything else for that matter), whether you are telling it to a friend or recording it in your journal, you are calling up again those images, words and events and inviting them to play in a creative state of mind which slightly different from wakefulness.

DREAM RE-ENTRY
Over the years, through the practice of recording my dreams, I've developed the ability to re-enter a dream when I'm in the hypnogogic state between sleep and wakefulness. When I go to bed I set my alarm to ring 1 hour before I have to get up. When the alarm goes off I re-set it for 30 minutes and then record my dream(s) while laying on my side with the journal propped up on a pillow. I've set the clock just in case I fall back asleep. I want to drift on the verge of sleep to see if any more of my dream or its details are lingering there. If I have fallen back to sleep perhaps I'll have a dream to record on the second sounding of the alarm.

Sometimes a dream is fully delivered and immediately words spill seamlessly onto the page as I record in an experience of automatic writing. At other times mere fragments appear which I'd like to flesh out more fully so I go back into them and look around to get a clearer image or see events from a different perspective. I can ask questions of the dream or its characters and wait for the answer. Now, this is a most interesting place to be because since the answer resides in the question all that is needed is a sense of the question - the words don't need to be fully formed before the answer begins to unfold. The answer may be spelled out clearly or in a cryptic nature but at any rate there is "knowing" that the question has been asked and that the answer has been received.

Sometimes just a feeling, sensation or thought is present when the alarm first goes off and these too are worth exploration and noting: What am I feeling? What thoughts are going through my mind? What do I first notice as I look around in the dream field that I've re-entered.

I don't invite the critical, analytical mind to come into action; I'm not analyzing the dream, I'm re-experiencing it and there is a difference. There is a light, wispy quality to the dream state whereas the state of analysis feels heavy and solid.

Stay simply with the facts, observations and feelings and play with them in the dream fields and they will unveil their wisdom.

THE CONE OF SHAME

2011-11-05T17:10:00.002-04:00

I was visiting a friend, chatting over coffee at her place, when I heard something being dragged from the other room and wondered what it was. My friend seemed nonplussed. It didn't take long for me to find out why...

I'm thinking about this because my friend's dog Luigi has been wearing the cone of shame, not to keep him from scratching his ears, but to keep from licking his balls, which he no longer has. Yes, he is of that age. I feel so sorry for you Luigi, but the cone of shame will not be on for long. This little clip from the animated film UP demonstrates the effect of the cone of shame has on its wearer so beautifully...

virtual consumerism

2011-11-04T21:48:00.001-04:00

I excel in the art of "virtual consumerism". This is something I found myself indulging in time and time again when I was living so far under the poverty line as to not even be a statistic. The only difference between me and a homeless person was that I had friends who allowed me to "house-sit" for them even when they didn't need a house-sitter and, when I had no place to go I could sneak a sleep on the mattress on the floor of my $50 a month studio space and shower at the Y a few blocks away (I had a free membership because I taught yoga there for $6/hr).

One time my friend Bud bunked at his potter friend's place in the country so that he could take care of "the PIES", the woman's 2 sheep, LAMBY PIE and HONEY PIE (Lamby's daughter) while she was on a 2 week trip. He asked me to "house-sit" the approx. 400 square foot apartment in which he lived. He'd taken an early retirement from his career as a newspaper and magazine writer to devote the rest of his life to his art; he was watercolourist. Bud's pension was meagre but he owned a house a few blocks from the ocean in the neighbourhood of Fairfield in Victoria. Two tenants occupied the bigger and more deluxe apartments that the house contained. Since one of his renters regularly checked out his place whenever he was away there really wasn't any need for my services except for the fact that he identified with my plight as a struggling artist in need of a break, he was a good guy and, despite our 20 some odd year difference, a really close and great friend.

Anyway, Bud and I would meet for coffee and talk about anything and everything: about life and love; give each other insight into the desires of the opposite sex (ours was a platonic relationship); food and drink; what we'd do when we we'd "made it"...

These discussions ignited flights of fantasy. I'd journey into possibilities of what I'd do when I was "rich" (all things being relative rich meant when I had some money in the bank). One dark, stormy, rainy night - feeling like a miserable, drowned rat as I waited for a bus and watched the hookers ply heir trade - I imagined myself at a beach in the Caribbean so fully and completely that I could "see" the crystalline blue waters. I could "feel" the warmth of the sand under my feet (though I was really wiggling my toes in rain soaked socks) and the sun on my skin. Riding the belching bus, huddled amongst a throng of late night commuters, I "smelled" the salt sea air and "heard" the waves washing on the shore and the wind rustling the leaves of the palm trees. It was so vibrant that I felt, for the first time in a long, long time, hopeful, happy and refreshed; as if I'd really taken this holiday.

This was a brilliant discovery!

I took many such "holidays". I realized that I could virtually "buy" whatever I wanted as I perused shop windows AND enjoy my purchases fully and completely. The funny thing was that once I'd experienced these things virtually I felt no need for them to manifest materially; my desire was oddly, satisfied.

I was a "window shopper". I never actually went into the shops except to get a free spritz of perfume and accept a free sample or two from the "Spritzer girl" at the Bay. "Yes, you really can get perfume for free." Bud's tenant told me and then went on to educate me on just how this was done. "Just go into the store. Let her spritz you. Smell it. And if you like it show it but tell her you're not sure. Say that you'd like to try it out. Nine times out of ten she'll offer up a sample and throw in some others. You can even make a request. The stuff lasts forever so you don't have to fork out a dime...Just dress up a little when you go in."

All of this made me feel and smell so much better.

Just this past October, I visited the bookstore at the OMEGA CENTRE many times during my weekend stay. I had given myself a certain amount of allowance to spend on whatever I wished. I carried the cash with me when I went into the store knowing that, at any moment, I could make my purchase. Oddly, I kept coming out of the store without anything. It wasn't that I didn't desire anything, quite the opposite, but I found myself slipping into "virtual shopping" mode.

I found it extremely enjoyable imagining myself owning that singing bowl that I played while in the store. Later that night I enjoyed playing one that rested on its own pillow in the Sanctuary space. I loved the feeling of having the brand new indigo blue, brocade yoga bag - a symbol of the shift into a new phase my yoga practice was experiencing - and scrapping my well-loved, well used, worn out, old, copper coloured one that my sister gave to me years ago. I sang to the chants of Deva Premal, in perfect pitch of course as this is a fantasy, and cherished the crystal lotus I'd "purchased" to place upon my altar. And the spiral earrings constantly reminded me of my weird ways and the non-linear aspect of time.

On Sunday evening the money was still warming my pocket. I finally parted with some of it in the last hour of business, choosing those things I deemed to have the most value - 2 books: THE WORLD IS AS YOU DREAM IT - Teachings from the Amazon and Andes by John Perkins and AWAKENING TO THE SPIRIT WORLD - The Shamanic Path of Direct Revelation by Sandra Ingerman & Hank Wesselman; knowing that the information they contain will perhaps lead me to places I have yet to discover.

And, to my delight the money which was not spent covered the cost of the gas that got me there and back; something that I hadn't accounted for in my budget for the weekend. WIN, WIN = total euphoria.

This little snip of a pic in the clip
reminds me that
dreams can come true

NOTE: I discovered only a few years ago that Esther and Jerry Hicks, authors of many books on the teachings of Abraham have a version of "virtual spending" which they call THE WALLET PROCESS (see #15 in their book ASK AND IT IS GIVEN). Summary: carry a $100 bill with you, but don't buy anything. Instead imagine buying things you would probably have spent it on. "Spend" it over and over again and feel the pleasure it gives you. Their theory is that it gives you a sense of financial well-being and abundance in that mentally you will have probably "spent" a thousand dollars, or more, in a day yet still have all of that money in your pocket. This feeling of abundance attracts abundance.

It is an interesting theory.

Oh, by the way, in December of the "drowned rat" year I actually spent a week in Antigua and it felt as good as I'd imagined it would.

Dream play

2011-10-26T22:10:00.002-04:00

HOW IS WHAT'S HAPPENING IN MY LIFE LIKE A DREAM?

When I haven't recalled a dream, I like to ask myself that question. Then, I observe what happens as I go about my day. You'd be surprised at the frequency of "dream-like" happenings that break through into "waking life". This reminds me that the veil between the worlds is very thin.

I witnessed a dream-like day being lived by Hannah, a woman attending a workshop at the OMEGA CENTRE a few weeks back. Most people come to the centre to further their learning on a specific topic or for R&R. Many, like myself, have been reading about, studying or applying the techniques that is the topic of their chosen workshop, but not Hannah.

I first met her when I went for lunch with 2 other participants from Robert Moss' SHAMANIC LUCID DREAMING dream group. The workshop had finished that morning and we were lingering, wanting to squeeze out the last bit of inspiration from the gathering and share more of our life and dream experiences. We descended upon a table occupied by one person (this would be Hannah), who graciously allowed us to share the space with her.

She listened intently and even joined in on the conversation by asking questions. When I asked her what she was here for she said she wasn't sure. She wasn't on R&R exactly as she'd half-heartedly signed up for a workshop of which she had little, if any, prior knowledge. I found this both bewildering AND fascinating.

After some time we all reluctantly dispersed with hugs and words of appreciation and bid each other fare well.

As I sat at a dinner table in the dining hall that same night (I stayed the extra night to give myself some down time before making the 9 hr drive back home) in walked Hannah with a "friend" who she'd just met. The woman was a Shamanic practitioner here to attend a SHAMANIC workshop with John Perkins. Again Hannah listened in on a lively discussion between myself and the Shamanic practitioner. We went our separate ways: I to the library to research Perkins' writing and later to the bookstore to purchase one of his books; the "friend" to her workshop and, because Hannah wasn't sure if her workshop was starting that night, she headed out on a mission to find out what was happening.

The next morning, as I sat talking with another of Robert's students who'd also taken an extra day for R&R, Hannah appeared again. And once more she took a seat and proceeded to listen in on our conversation. Her workshop hadn't started the previous night but was to begin after brekkie. She seemed ambivalent, not at all excited about it and said that she was told that she could switch workshops if she wanted.

"If this was my experience", I said, using a dreamwork technique, "It would seem that I was meant to take the Shamanic workshop. After all, of all of the people that you could come across in the dining room at OMEGA 3 times in a row you ended up at tables where all we talked about was Shamanism. Every one of us has studied and participated in a Shamanic workshop. There were 3 at your table yesterday afternoon, 2 last night and now the 2 of us. This adds up to the number of karmic return so, if it were me I'd go to that one for sure!"

I don't know if Hannah changed over to the Shamanic workshop or even showed up for the one she'd initially signed up for. For all I know she decided to hang out, visit with other guests (most likely she'd end up at a "shamanic" table anyway) and get a little R&R. Whatever she did was right for her. But man it seemed as if the universe was doing its darndest to get her attention.

How was this experience like a dream for me, you might ask. In my dream of this experience (Hannah) I was a little like a sleep-walker unconsciously drifting through life while opportunity for awakening is knocking at my door, not once but 3 times. Do I follow its lead? Only time will tell. Where will it take me? Only time will tell that too :)

TOMORROW play in the field of dreams by asking HOW IS WHAT'S HAPPENING IN MY LIFE LIKE A DREAM.

Sometimes you feel like a nut

2011-10-24T00:29:00.004-04:00

click on cartoon to enlarge
© Nance Thacker '83

I don't know just why this cartoon wants to be seen, but it does.

Though it's not a particularly good drawing; nor very original (I'm sure it's been done thousands of times in various ways). It was one of a few attempts to do a style that might appeal to the New Yorker magazine... and one of the many rejects.

I loved drawing her and could feel the old velvety, crumpled hat that sits upon her head and the heart that beats under her worn camel coat. Having lived a full life into her late '60's, she's a little weary of life but still she waits patiently at the counter. She's not distressed or upset, just mildly annoyed at her goofy dog who's not, as the bottle claims, "removed". He's just not visible.

As she waits she's replaying the scenario over in her mind as to what not to do after this situation gets cleared up. She will secure the lid on the bottle more tightly and wait until she hears the cupboard door close before she walks out of the kitchen. And, never again will she place the "Spot Remover" bottle beside the garbage can, especially after discarding fresh left overs from a T-bone steak dinner as she had done last night.

Yah, well maybe it was as much my fault as Spot's, she's thinking. So, both guilty parties wait calmly to be served. Spot's invisible tail is wagging all the while and he looks up adoringly at her through his soulful, invisible doggy eyes.

Damn, stupid dog! It took me forever to figure what the hell was going on this morning what with cushions dancing on the sofa and rugs scattering around the hall as if they were possessed. I thought I was bloody well having a stroke.

Dumb dog!

When I could finally believe my eyes the sounds of his claws clicking on the floor and his excited panting became clear to me. Thank God for the pee (the only thing about him that wasn't invisible - nor odourless) that streamed down the leg of the chair. If it wasn't for that I'd never have caught him. Oh well, at least it wasn't as bad as the last time... or the time before that!

shamanic lucid dreaming

2011-10-21T00:03:00.000-04:00

This past (Canadian) Thanksgiving weekend I was one of 24 people at the OMEGA CENTRE in Rhinebeck New York participating in the art of Shamanic Lucid Dreaming with Robert Moss. He calls his workshops "playshops" and this one sure lived up to that classification. I've never had so much fun with dreamwork!

When I was about 11 years old I experienced a frightening dream which seemed to foretell my early demise - it was then that dreams called me. After that experience I took notice of dreams in the hopes that I'd dream a revised version of the prophecy; I looked for signs in daily waking life that would tell me that my path had changed direction. I tried bargaining with fate and destiny. Though I don't consciously recall any revisions or signs, something must have worked as I'm writing to you from the other side of 55.

I was fortunate to further explore dream study with Swami Radha and Richard Reeves of Yasodhara Ashram and a dream group in Victoria B.C. in the mid '70's. Though Richard seemed to be on the verge of breaking through to new territory before he died, the foundation of the work at the time, from all my teachers, was built upon a western analytical approach.

We believed that it was important to capture the whole dream(s) in as much detail as possible so we were encouraged to take copious notes to record them. We'd read our dreams to the group. Significant nouns, actions, puns and each slip of the tongue was highlighted. Then we'd dissect what we'd highlighted, for example the meaning of nouns, asking the question "If you were talking to an alien from another planet how would you describe what this word means?" and, "Is there anything/anyone in your waking life that has these qualities?"

We looked for archetypes, most especially peering into the shadow aspect of our being. Every character and object represented not only that particular person or thing but also aspects of ourselves. Gestault techniques enabled us to become the character or object and give them a voice thus giving us a new and fresh perspective on the action in the dream.

From recording the dream to working on it, you can imagine how long this whole process took.

I've worked with Robert's techniques for about 10 years now on my own. I've brought them into my classes, workshops and individual consultations with clients. How refreshing and freeing it has been to get out of the left side of my brain and play with dreams in what I call the "dream fields" where they live in a broader spiritual dimension. During the workshop it was especially inspiring to watch how Robert held the space and moved the work forward into lively engagement. His exposure to the understanding aboriginal cultures have about dreaming and the dreamtime has transformed how many people in our culture now work with dreams.

So, how has this changed how I approach dreams? I still write down my dreams and when only fragments present themselves, I've discovered that often they contain the most direct and uncomplicated wisdom and fun. On those days when no dream comes to the surface or I'm too busy to record a dream I might just capture a feeling, a title or come up with a dream "bumper sticker" as a summary. I look at daily life as another dream space which allows magical synchronicity to inform my reality. And when I'm working with my dreams in my journal, the whole process can take as little as 10 to 15 minutes. The most important questions to ask upon waking is "How did I feel in the dream and upon waking?" and "How will I honour the dream in waking life?" The stage can be set to welcome a dream by asking of one that was dreamt, "What more would I like to know about the dream?"

I know that dance, song and dream theatre enable us to embody the power of dreams in order to move the energy of the dream into waking reality (which also furthers the evolution of dreams in the dreamtime too) but I gained a whole new appreciation for the power of this work by participating in the group.

Here are some other observations from the dream space that was created that weekend:

Messages can be brought forth quickly with a sense of lightness and ease.
Through engaging the body, movement, literally moves the energy generated by potentially intense work throughout the body and keeps it light. This is a tremendous discovery for us kinesthetic types who often absorb the intensity to our detriment. I intend to explore this aspect further in my own dream workshops.
Dreamworking in this way keeps not only the dreams alive but also the dream group participants energized, enthusiastic and fresh.
Whether you are experienced or a novice, we are all dream teachers. Everyone in the group is able to dip into and bring forth great wisdom from the dream space that is created when we all come together with the intention to explore this territory.
This work really does empower and heal the participants who become aware of the tremendous resources they have within themselves.
For the facilitator of the dream group, non-attachment to outcome is essential. As Kahuna Harry Uhane Jim says, “I will my will to compassionate disengagement for the breath of God is in our presence”. Go in with an intention for the work AND let the group energy inspire and direct the process. New discoveries will come forth.

THANK YOU ROBERT AND MY FELLOW DREAM TRAVELLERS FOR SHARING YOUR WISDOM AND CREATING A FANTASTIC EXPERIENCE!

You can get there from here - journey explained

2011-10-14T08:44:00.001-04:00

"We are going to take a journey into parallel lives," Ruth announces as we get ready to take the first journey of our dream workshop on Sept 17th.

"They can be lives other than an earthly life. There are no limits as to where you can go, who or what you can be. And, since time is always happening now, these lives can be in what we in our present experience of reality consider to be the past, present or the future."

Excited by these possibilities, I am more than ready to begin the adventure. I can not resist closing my eyes and settling in as I get primed for "take off".

"There is a gateway or portal that we can use to gain entrance into these lives. Some people imagine it to be a pyramid with parallel threads running downwards from it. You can explore any of these threads which represent any one of numerous possible parallel lives."

Her words and voice begins to lull me into the receptive state of lucid dreaming where all is possible. And, though this image floats in front of me, it doesn't engage me as I know there is more to come and I want to keep my options open. What is the other portal like?

"Other people use the image of a spider's web. As you move along the web, each time you come across a connecting line, where these lines intersect is an opportunity to enter into a life."

I feel myself walking cat-like on all fours along the tightrope of a gigantic web which bounces slightly with every step I take. I am rising and falling, rising and falling as the drum begins to beat. How did I get here? I look up and see the pyramid above me and, yes, lines do run down from it but this enormous glistening, silver web is suspended from these lines and where the lines intersect a body is suspended in space. The connections and bodies are too numerous to count as the web spreads out before me like a galaxy of stars. I should say that these are identical "body-shaped" forms, each representing a distinct life experience. There is a glow at the centre of the web. I gaze upwards and see the flow of a celestial water fall of light that passes through the centre of the pyramid. Its path flows through the centre of the web and beyond to a distance into a milky way-like galaxy swirling far below and beyond this area which already feels like infinity.

I lay down into the form of one of the suspended bodies and in the flicker of an instant I'm standing behind Jacob. My parallel life journey has begun.

I am a dreamer and I am Jacob - continued on previous post Journey into Parallel Lives.

Journey into parallel lives

2011-10-12T00:19:00.002-04:00

He stands with his back to me. At six feet tall, wearing a crisp white lab coat, he is an impressive figure. He says I can call him Jacob, it's as good a name as any. He knows it is a name that appeals to me as it seems to belong to one who possesses a mysterious presence.

He smiles at how easily impressed I am with this task he performs so effortlessly. For what does it take really to hold space when one has been doing it all their life? He cannot remember a time when it wasn't always so.

I walk around to his right to get a better view of what he has devoted his life to. Test tubes like vials float in the air in front of him. From a distance they give the appearance of a massive church organ, staggered as they are at varying heights and distances. The mass seems alive.

At a closer view I see that he is monitoring the progress of liquid dripping into each vial from invisible spigots. Vials appear and once filled disappear seemingly at random. They are unmarked with no distinguishing features and the liquid is clear, silvery and crystalline-pure.

I understand that, suspended in other places and other times, dreaming bodies have embarked on journeys. And, though Jacob stands before me he is also a physical presence, monitoring each of them as well. These people are, from the point of reference of my time, advanced beings who have chosen to journey to bathe in "healing waters" in order to gather healing wisdom-energy for their less advanced self/selves.

Jacob makes them visible to me now and I observe their physical bodies resting for a half an hour at the most. Yet the bathers experience is of hours or days; sometimes months or years floating and drifting.

Suddenly Jacob transports me to the next level; the place of "gathering". Jacob is there too as a constant presence, overseeing the progress of each of the dream bodies. A more subtle, shimmering image of each dreaming body walks into the waters, then submerges, becoming one with the healing waters as their molecules mingle. In this way they absorb that which is healing for the particular needs of their lineage. There is an infinite number of bathers forming, dispersing and re-forming creating a sparkling dance of light before my very eyes.

How the essence they process from the healing waters is transported into the vials is an unexplained mystery; the drops of essence magically appear and drip into the appropriate vial.

Once their task is complete Jacob guides the "shimmerings" back into their suspended dream body which then journeys to rejoin its corporeal form in the material realm. The person later awakens, feeling glowingly refreshed.

Jacob explains that when a more dense, lesser advanced, earthbound soul needs a healing and cries out for help, it is he who hears their pleas. And it is he who matches the resonance of the essence with the intended receiver; administering the appropriate dosage in the form of a "wisdom moment". The knowing that has been delivered is absorbed, in some cases immediately, in others, over time. The process of healing is complete when the absorbed essence manifests as "right" action.

Jacob is pleased to be a part of this moment in time in which science is married to spirit as he knows it hasn't always been this way.

We're all but frogs in a well

2011-09-30T16:24:00.002-04:00

A number of years ago I was fortunate enough to attend a presentation given by Dr. Robert Svaboda titled "Spirituality or Psychosis?" (a subject near and dear to the hearts of many meditators and yoga practitioners) at a yoga centre in Toronto. Svaboda is a riveting and entertaining speaker and he told a story about a frog in a well which goes something like this...

There once was a frog who lived in the bottom of an abandoned well with a lot of other frogs happily going about their little frog lives. As days and nights passed the light coming in from the top of the well revealed to them all they needed to know about where they lived and who they were. When they looked up at the sky they recognized familiar changes. They saw the passage of the moon and stars, the sun and clouds; of night and day. Now and then branches blew into view sometimes bare, at other times decorated with blossoms or leaves, some of which would drop down into their abode and provide an exceptionally tasty treat, especially if accompanied by resident bugs.

Then, one day, a young boy discovered the well and being in need of a drink lowered the bucket and scooped up some water...and our little friend along with it.
The frogs gazing up from down below noticed an eclipse as the bucket filled the sky and then it passed. The old ones said this had only happened once or twice before in their lifetimes.
The little frog riding in the bucket on it's way up the well, gazed in awe as the hole, that was the sky, grew bigger and bigger until the sides of the bucket were only a slim rim around it. Then the sky grew dark and he closed his eyes in fright as it squeezed around him. He heard sounds he'd never in his life heard before, smelt smells other than mud and musty water and felt the pressure of the soft warmth around his body being withdrawn. When he opened his eyes he was surrounded by sky and all the things that it contained.

He came to live with the little boy for a time and from his vantage point in his custom decorated glass aquarium witnessed (though we all know the lifestyle of a typical pet frog) more of the world than he could ever have imagined. Until one day, thinking our little friend might be lonely for his past life, the boy went back to the well. He gently placed his now older and wiser friend into the bucket, lowered it down and released him back to his "hood".

The little frog's eyes took time to adjust to the dimness of the light. The sudden change left him a little disoriented so he sat there silently for a while.

"Hey, isn't that Ralphie?", said one frog to another.
"What?"
"You know, the guy who disappeared one day."

For the first time in a long time he heard sounds in his own native tongue. And as his vision cleared, he saw that he was surrounded by others of his kind and though they stood back from him at a distance he was thrilled to see all their familiar froggy faces.

"Where were you dude?" asked one "We looked all over for you but when we couldn't find you we figured you'd been taken by a snake."

Our little friend began to excitedly tell them of his great adventure.

"Do you know that the sky is huge?" he said, spreading his forelegs out wider and wider.
Looking up at the tiny circle of light way above them they replied, "No way! Ummm mmm. It's not, it's small".
"And that there are places where there is no water at all. There are beings who don't hop...well, they can if they want to but it's usually just the younger ones that do; most of them don't want to. And, they have only 2 legs, not 4 though they have 2 other limbs that are sort of like legs but not really. And....", he spoke, barely taking time for a breath as he was bursting to tell them of all that there was "out there".
They listened silently while casting sideways, horrified glances at each other as it became unspokenly obvious to all of them that Ralphie had clearly lost his mind.

"No, no. It's all true. I swear," he protested as he was dragged away to a place where he could recover his sanity.
When he ceased to speak of: a sky that surrounded them, creatures that walked, dryness and the sensation of warmth and such; when he went about daily matters and sat in the muck looking up at the sky like the rest of them they knew he had been cured. But, he knew he was just playing the game while waiting for the bucket to return.

(The gist of the story is his, the elaborations are mine. My apologies to Dr. Svaboda for putting my spin on your story).

* * *

This weekend I'll be attending THE WAY OF THE TEACHER a workshop in Shamanism with Sharon Van Raalte. We'll be leaving CR (aka consensus reality) and riding the bucket into NOR (non-ordinary reality) which has me recalling this delightful tale.

I've also been recalling a talk by a lovely animation instructor called TOM (sorry I don't remember his last name at the moment though I think it was Tom Halley) who had been an animator on the Beatles film THE YELLOW SUBMARINE (I was a student at the International Summer School of Animation at Sheridan from 1986 - 88) given to our first year class of animators.

He said that people are in awe of artists because we provide a sorely needed service for humanity. We can go "way out there and come back and bring the most amazing experiences with us to share with those who can't go venturing for themselves". He believed that we have the ability to show others a fuller spectrum of reality, broaden peoples' minds and in expanding their view of what is possible create the foundation for more possibility to manifest in the world around us. He was excited about the journeys we were about to embark upon as novice animators and story tellers. He saw us as forerunners of possibility. "Many people are afraid to do what we have the ability to do", he said, "because they fear they won't come back or will come back maladjusted".

My unspoken responses to his comments were:

How much questionable substances he'd ingested during his work on the Beatles project?

Was he ingesting any now? As I'd never met someone with such a sense of childlike wonder nor had I been viewed with the awe that one reserves for astronauts and the like.

What the heck am I getting into?

But deep inside there was also a flicker of a feeling in my gut that he was absolutely right, which has been confirmed by my life experiences in CR and NOR since then.

These many years later, I have learned that all you have to do is remember:

where you are at all times
the rules of the game in each territory
speak the language of each realm or else others will think you're nuts

And a weird thing is that now with the possibility that E doesn't = MC squared we could all just be blown out of the well.

Thumbs up way to pass the time

2011-09-22T20:52:00.001-04:00

So, there I am sitting in the front office at my mechanic's garage with 1 hour to kill while ALF W gets a long overdue tune up. Oddly enough, I usually enjoy these visits as the selection of magazines has, in the past, always been almost as trashy as those found at my (or any) hairdresser's. These are rags that I wouldn't be caught dead reading in public but, when I'm tucked away in a corner in either place, I indulge in the guilty pleasure of surfing their pages.
However on this day they were nowhere to be found. A few measly SUN newspapers was all that littered the table beside me.
I scanned the room for something of interest and my gaze lit upon the photo of Henry and his wife cruising down the open road on his motorbike. I liked the smile on his face and her "thumbs up" gesture so I drew it. Not a great sketch, but an enjoyable way to pass an hour.
I liked the wheel clock on his wall, so I added it in the top right corner.

This act will soon be obsolete!

2011-09-20T18:23:00.001-04:00

I have this habit of noticing, and collecting, garbage when I go out on hikes in nature. I can't help myself. The very idea of someone littering here (or even in the concrete jungle) I find is absolutely disgusting and disrespectful of the earth.

However, this doesn't make me the most enjoyable hiking partner as, distracted from the beauty around me, I unself-consciously break into a full fledged rant or at the very least, emit a "tsk tsk" of disgust until I am brought back to my senses by: the sound of a passing bird, the whiff of a flower, the wind and sun's warmth upon my skin or the broader view of the glory in which I'm privileged to walk.

Sunday's "Just 4 2day B a Tourist Day" day was no different, except for the fact that all I collected during my 90 minute hike/picture taking venture was:
- 1 plastic take out coffee cup with lid
- 1 straw
- 1 piece of plastic about 3 inches long
- bits of labels
- 1 clump of rolled up plastic wrap
- 1 blue lid sans the plastic container it was meant for

Lovely litter-free babbling brook
at the base of the cliffs
THANKS TO FELLOW HIKERS AND CLIMBERS

With no garbage containers present I was astounded to see that everyone I encountered had a day pack with which to pack their "stuff" out! All the items, but for the plastic coffee cup and lid, were most likely unintentionally dropped along the way.

It left me with such a great sense of hope and pride in humanity to realize that, maybe even in my lifetime, picking up someone else's garbage will become an obsolete act.

Just 4 2day Be a Tourist

2011-09-19T21:20:00.001-04:00

One thing I notice about travel is how amazed, delighted and appreciative I am of new experiences in new places. The first leg of our trip found me cycling the bike path that runs through Brockville ON and later diving repeatedly into the St Lawrence from the boardwalk breakwater pier. I felt so refreshed! How incredible this was! To top it off, Rod and I had brekkie at a local landmark that's been serving the town for over 100 years, the TAIT'S BAKERY & DELI. We drop in there every time we pass through. And to think that all this is just a stone's throw from downtown and our suite at the BROCKBERRY CAFE AND SUITES. How delightful!

Somewhere along the way I realized, you know there are some pretty cool things to do in your own backyard (hometown) but you don't notice cuz you're too busy doing whatever you have to do, or just being too busy to take the time to check it out.

Southern Ontarians are a hard working people who seem to take great pride in being stressed, that somehow this state of being validates our existence (I was born and raised here so I know whereof I speak). It's as if someone's giving out 5 gold stars to the first person who keels over with a heart attack. We buy into the belief that life has to be difficult, a struggle; that if we lift our noses up from the grindstone for one minute the world will fall apart. Maybe we're right. The world as we know it WILL fall apart because we'll discover so much more.

When I returned to live in Victoria BC, my plans for going to study yoga in India had fallen through and jobs were hard to come buy but, I'd squirrelled enough money away to see me through the summer. So, I decided to live in Victoria like a tourist because I'd noticed that once I "settle" into a place I explore it less and my life sets into a routine of well-worn pathways.

Yesterday morning I played tourist in Burlington. I decided to explore RATTLESNAKE POINT with my camera. I found a stairway down a cliff-face; I've never noticed this before but I've always wanted to see the cliffs from a different vantage point. Wish granted, I scrambled down to the bottom and found a perch from which to appreciatively view both amazed and delighted as the rock climbers did their thing. My sister and I did some indoor wall climbing this past spring, so I was especially happy to see it done out there in the natural setting on such a beautiful day.

Look really close at the last picture. See that tiny speck, yikes!

Up Periscope follow-up

2011-09-18T22:23:00.003-04:00

In the blog post LMAO Up Periscope I left you watching the CURB YOUR ENTHUSIASM clip on the car periscope. If you haven't read it already, read it now here; I'll wait...

Hmmmm.. hmmm....hmmmmm...

Ah, welcome back! I was about to continue explaining how this dreaming/waking life stuff interconnect until I got rudely interrupted by a bout of entusiasmo espanole; my apologies.

To summarize:

Rod and I, while driving on our first day of a 11 day trip, come up with the brilliant invention - the car periscope.

9 days later I record an apparently inconsequential dream but for the fact that Larry David & his manager Jeff appears.

I become obsessed with trying to remember the title of the TV show in which they appear and am infected with a nasty case of ear worm as I recall its incredibly perky, catchy and viral theme song.

I have a feeling that this will lead to something though I don't know what.

2 days after this, while holed up in a Marriott Hotel in Burlington VT waiting out hurricane Irene (now downgraded to a tropical storm) we are forced to watch satellite TV because the movie rental channel is on the fritz and 2 of our choices have been rejected.

Rod watches a program that I'm not interested in, TRUE BLOOD so I read THE HELP.

Program over, Rod channel surfs and I hear the theme song to CURB YOUR ENTHUSIASM.

A compulsion comes over me; we must watch the program.

We've stumbled upon an episode about...THE CAR PERISCOPE.

Being in this synchronic experience as it unfolded was truly delightful. I was soooo uncontrollably thrilled that Rod wanted me to CURB MY ENTHUSIASM which I found near to impossible.

On one hand this demonstrates for me how thin the veil is between the realities of sleep dreams, waking life and imagination/creativity. It allows me to think that anything is possible; I mean what were the odds that we'd invent something that someone else had made a TV episode about (no, neither of us had seen the episode before). Even if we had, we were supposed to be in Lake Placid that evening and, if things had played out as planned we wouldn't have spent our first night watching TV, that's for sure.

If we look at the function of the car periscope, we see that it allows the navigator to see ahead and smoothly negotiate the driver around obstacles in order to get where they want to go. On another level, Rod and my car periscope stream of consciousness episode seemed to hint what was to come, that we would find ourselves in a situation where we would need to see ahead in order to make decisions as to how to proceed. In retrospect we can see many different things that the periscope was a metaphor for: the blackberry and other media we consulted in order to discern when to leave the cottage; the townspeople, highway patrolman, shopkeeper and information desk person who (also in the role of THE HELP) gave us warnings of road blocks and washed out roads ahead and suggested alternative routes for us to safely proceed.

If I were to look at the whole experience as I've recounted as one dream, I would ask myself, "Does this feel like anything in my waking life now?" It resonates with the fact that I'm adjusting to new terrain and pathways forming in my life in the aftermath of Mom's passing. I'm trying to see "down the road". I'm also looking ahead to when Rod retires. Like many other wives I'm freaked out at the prospect, feeling a bit emotionally spun and stormy (= hurricane) trying to find direction (in my role as navigator) that works for both of us as we drive down the road together. At this time as the sand shifts beneath my feet, obstacles seem insurmountable and I wish I had a life periscope that would help me negotiate my "stormy weather".

Buenas Noches Mis Amigos

2011-09-14T00:21:00.000-04:00

I made the 30 minute bike trek into downtown Oakville yesterday to meet 2 "council" friends for brekkie. We ate at Sunnyside Diner which, many moons ago, was once Anne's Cottage Shop, a restaurant where I did the prerequisite postgrad waitressing gig of every aspiring artist whose ever gotten their B. A. in Fine Art.

Jan and I left Flo in a store looking for a scarf and walked down the road a bit before going our separate ways. Before splitting Janet mentioned that she had signed up to take Spanish; something that I have been wanting to do for years. I have maintained my poor skill level in the language and lack of advancement through sporadic bursts of self-taught efforts filled with: reading articles in Spanish, listening to TV programs, renting movies and playing them with Spanish subtitles ON or making use of the dubbed version.

I was excited when I heard that the lessons are: reasonably priced, located nearby and scheduled at a time that fits nicely into my week. Yes, I was very excited until I heard where they are taking place; at the Seniours' Centre. AAAACCCCCCKKKK, mentally I was running, not walking, away screaming, "I'M TOO YOUNG TO BE A SENIOUR."

Janet, sensitive soul that she is, could see the panic in my eyes. "The centre is for anyone 50 and older. Not everyone is 90. You'd be a "young" seniour."

Too late! My mind had already propelled me forward to a time in which I was trapped in a room full of memory challenged individuals who couldn't remember what was said 5 minutes ago in English much less in another language; and this was my Spanish class. " Mmmm, I'll have to think about it," was my non-committal response before we parted.

Before tackling the bike ride back, I stopped in at Starbucks to take a pee. It's one place I can slip into and out without making a purchase guilt-free as I'm virtually a coffee imbibing "regular" there.

Business done, I knelt down to unlock my bike. And, as I did so, the question/consideration briefly breezed through my mind like a whisper in the wind, I wonder if I should take the course at the Seniours' Centre? And, at that very moment a family walked by speaking SPANISH.

The universe has spoken.

So, I'm now signed up to take Spanish at the Seniours' Centre. Wish me buena suerte!

LMAO Up Periscope!

2011-09-11T23:51:00.001-04:00

THURS AUG 18TH - Rod and I are heading out on our trip to the townships, Vermont and Lake Placid. We're chatting about the next car that I should get when ALF W bites the dust. It's weird I know but I find myself almost whispering in ALF's presence, anyway...

The 403 was, as usual, busy that morning and from the low laying vantage point that ALF (a Ford Escort) provides, our range of vision was limited. How wonderful it would be to be sitting higher I commented. I have always loved trucks, in fact our Ford F150 had taken us on many a fantastic road trip and served the double duty of providing us with accommodation during inclement weather on those days we were either too tired or it was too wet to set up camp. Seen behind the wheel of the truck no one would guess that I'm a mere 4'10" as the clearance over the hood and steering wheel is great enough for me to appear as the confident driver that I am, whereas I sit so low in ALF that drivers behind me think the car's driving itself. To add further insult I appear to be a "low and slow" (meek little old driver) since I got 2 speeding tickets in quick succession of each other a few years back I've been forced to observe the speed limit or risk a more hefty fine for the next offence (I like to drive fast and am a fiercely competitive go cart driver). To sit up higher or even view the traffic ahead from a better vantage point would feel empowering.

Somehow as we're discussing the topic, Rod and I slip into stream of consciousness conversation and we invent the CAR PERISCOPE. How great would it be to have a periscope in the car that would enable you to see what's going on ahead. You'd be able to pick and choose your course knowing what's coming up. How cool would that would be! I got pretty darn enthusiastic about the idea as I'm always looking to come up with an invention that would land me a bundle, something simple - like velcro, post-it notes or even that damn stupid SNUGGIE. I mean how simple can you get. The kid made a bundle just because he was a couch potato who's arms got cold when he went to reach for his beer and chips, anyway...

FRI AUG 26 - We're in Hindesburg VT at a cottage on Iroquois Lake and I record a dream in which Larry David and Jeff (his agent on his TV show) make an appearance. Upon waking and throughout the rest of the day, I find myself obsessed with the name of the show in which they star but can't for the life of me remember what it is. All day I'm afflicted with an ear worm as its theme song runs over and over in my head. I don't have my laptop with me and though Rod has his Blackberry, I don't want to resort to asking him to solve the puzzle. For some reason this obsession seems important; as if I'm supposed to figure it out myself. I think maybe I'll stumble upon the title in the paper, or on TV or hear it on the radio which seems likely as hurricane Irene is threatening to come our way and we're monitoring the situation every few hours to determine what to do next.

SAT AUG 27 - I finally cave and ask Rod if he knows the title. He says he doesn't. I don't believe him; think he's taking delight in prolonging my agony and we leave it at that. Later, while eating dinner in AMERICAN FLATBREAD restaurant in Burlington VT (great pizza and microbrewery - try the blueberry beer) he recalls that it's called CURB YOUR ENTHUSIASM. Riddle solved. Ear worm vanquished. Relief ensues!

SUN AUG 28 - We leave the cottage on schedule as planned. In the beginning of a tropical storm (Hurricane Irene has been downgraded) - not planned. We are stranded in Burlington as no ferries are running across Lake Champlain. We take the first place we can which is the MARRIOTT in Burlington and spend the day reading in the lounge (My book of choice is THE HELP which I highly recommend and Rod's is VAGABONDING - An Uncommon Guide to the Art of Long-term World Travel which he finds so-so), nursing a glass of Malbec wine while occasionally glancing up at the big screen TV permanently set on the weather channel and its "on the spot" weather guy standing on the boardwalk somewhere in New York State monitoring the progress of a lifeguard station getting pummelled by the waves.

Later that night, holed up in our room, we try, unsuccessfully, to rent a movie. The weather has messed with the signals. All that is left is satellite TV. Rod settles in to TRUE BLOOD which I can't make head or tail of. I'm driven deeper into my book for its duration. Next thing I know the theme song for CURB YOUR ENTHUSIASM creeps into my consciousness. I corral Rod's channel surfing and get him to settle onto the show which is just starting. After my obsession with it I figure we might as well watch. We sit back and here's the episode that came up.

No word of a lie!!!

Give a Damn

2011-08-17T23:51:00.001-04:00

Just a quickie for tonight as I've been saddened by the prospect of Belo Monte Dam being constructed in Brazil and all the devastation it will create.

Click on the link to watch the video, read more about it and sign the petition. HERE

Here's some more info about what people are doing.

I wish I may I wish I might...

2011-08-08T23:15:00.000-04:00

Warrior Pose II
neither pulled towards the future
nor weighted down by the past
equilibrium is found in the present moment

I haven't blogged for a while. Mom's death has severed the living ties to my parents (Dad died in 2002) and life has, for the time being, become a bit of an introverted journey of self-exploration. Who am I now? Who do I want to become? What do I want to do with my life? What and who do I love? How do I want to live my life now? Robert Moss contends that if you don't define yourself others will do it for you. What definitions have I embraced? Do they still apply? Did they ever? Sounds pretty heavy but really, it's liberating and has led to clutter clearing on all levels: physically, mentally, emotionally, psychically and spiritually.

More of that later, what prompts this blog is an e-mail I received recently from a client who hasn't been successful in getting rid of excess weight despite having attended a series of 6 one-on-one sessions for a weight management a few years back.

Here's the gist of it:
Why can't hypnosis for weight loss be done in a 1 shot session like I do for smoking cessation? Why can't I just implant a negative association to help someone abstain from "forbidden" foods and be done with it? It worked for a friend of mine and she lost X number of pounds and she's still kept it off. When she feels tempted she just goes back for a little top up. I think stress management would be helpful, but only if it's done in one session not if it's based on self-hypnosis as that doesn't work for me.

A few things jump out at me:

unlike smoking, one needs to eat and faces temptation a few times every day
smoking is a non-essential activity that is always detrimental to one's health
what new "forbiddens" will take the place of the old ones
hypnosis does strengthen resolve and makes things easier, and ACTION is a part of the process, action needs to be taken to re-inforce the suggestion and set up a positive feedback loop
over time weight balancing becomes second nature and a lifestyle choice
stress accumulates unless we address it every day, it's not the stressor that's our problem, it's our attitude towards it

I battled with anorexia in my teens. If anyone should know about aversion to food and how to induce it, it should be me. The truth is, people experiencing anorexia are consumed by food 24/7 to the exclusion of everything else - there is no joy in the life of an anorexic, only the constant companions of fear of failure and self-loathing.

I lost 30 lbs by eating the bare minimum to survive and, when I came to my senses I gained most of it back. I have maintained a healthy weight for 40 years through conscious eating and a commitment to health and living consciously.

There is no magic pill to make our demons all go away. One must commit to a daily process of: self-awareness and self-honesty; discovering one's self inside-out; taking ownership of the body we inhabit and taking responsibility for our actions - no excuses allowed. We must learn to ride the emotional roller coaster of life without resorting to food for comfort or punishment and choose to eat consciously. It takes nothing less than healing our relationship with ourselves and with food to arrive at the weight that is right for "me".

The pain my client was feeling leaked between the lines she'd written. She just wants one shot, no self-hypnosis. Self-hypnosis doesn't work for her. Yet she is an intelligent, accomplished professional. How did she get through the years of training, focus and determination it took to get where she is today? All hypnosis is essentially self-hypnosis and is re-inforced by the messages we tell ourselves every day. Our self-talk either propels us in the right direction or leads to self-sabatogue. As a former anorexic I know that our mind can be a battleground where our inner cheerleader and our inner critic wage a war for dominance over our thoughts and emotions. Which do you support with your attention? The one that receives the most attention grows the strongest.

Anything we accomplish begins with a spark of inspiration and a dreaming of what could be. When it comes to weight issues we imagine how wonderful our lives will be, how successful and desirable we will become when we have lost the weight. All our problems will vanish in an instant. I wish this were true. Fact is, we need to find the wonderful life that is available to us now as we make our journey through weight loss (or anything else); we need to engage in life, take risks, experience failure and success. We need to fall down, get up and reset our course again and again if necessary.

I've been impressed by the Canadian Series X-WEIGHTED for it's inspiring and eye-opening stories centring around young people and their families learning to live healthier lives while losing weight. I encourage anyone dealing with weight issues to check it out, especially if you are concerned about passing these issues on to your children. If you are making poor food choices for yourself you are making poor ones for your kids too. Your actions set the example for your children to follow - what are they learning from you?

To find out more about my struggle with anorexia and how yoga transformed my life check out STORIES FROM THE YOGIC HEART available at many yoga centres, book stores, AKASHA'S DEN in Oakville, Ontario and coming soon to a ROOTS store near you!

OUR DESIRE (to commit to our goal) NEEDS TO BE STRONGER THAN OUR RESISTANCE.

So, here's the first step regarding forbidden foods:

DON'T BUY THEM OR HAVE THEM IN THE HOUSE; NOT FOR YOURSELF AND ESPECIALLY NOT FOR YOUR KIDS.

Secondly, ask yourself, in your moments of temptation:

WHO IS IN CHARGE OF YOUR LIFE?

Looking for a sign

2011-07-22T14:49:00.001-04:00

I visited Mom's nursing home on Wednesday to donate some CD's and a DVD from Moms stash for their music and entertainment programs; just one of the many tasks I've elected to do on Mom's behalf and bring closure for myself.

Running into old acquaintances who live, work and volunteer at the nursing home caused us to reminisce about Mom, her passing, the memorial/celebration of her life that the family hosted there a few weeks ago and death in general. I found quite quickly that one can't visit such a place after such a majour event without people opening up and sharing their own stories of love and loss.

It seems that, regardless of religious or spiritual orientation, surviving relatives are looking for signs from the departed that they are OK in their new realm of existence. The living also want to be reassured that those that have "passed" are now watching over, and perhaps, guiding them.

One woman, heavily grieving the loss of her father (who died in December) said she just wants to be able to move on but can't seem to do so. Despite not being ready to "go" there was nothing that could be done for him and this added to the pain and suffering he and his family experienced during the last few months of his life. I asked what would make it possible for her to move on. She said she didn't know but felt that, "If I could only have a sign that he's OK. I think that would help." And though she said, in an off hand manner, "I did get a sign the next day" and proceeded to describe the incident, the radiance in her face indicated that this was a real, not a manufactured, experience but for some reason it just hadn't registered consciously with her yet.

She proceeded to tell me that, a few weeks later, during an especially difficult time, her father came to her in a dream and said, somewhat irritated, "Why do you keep calling on me? Don't you know that I'm dead?" This made her feel even worse until I reminded her, as she'd just told me, she'd already received the sign she was looking for. I proceeded to say that, if it were my dream, I'd try and see it from his point of view. When I took his vantage point I realized that I'd be wondering how many times and in how many ways would she need to be reassured that I'm OK? I'm dead and there are things I have to do here but trust that when you really need me I'll be there.

Some spiritual traditions believe that, not until the living have released the dead are those that have passed, free to move on in their journey; move on, they and we must. Our grief, sense of guilt, loss of direction keep them bound to us and between realms, neither here nor there (some spiritual traditions believe that there are many aspects to a human soul, that one aspect of the soul remains while other aspects are intended to move on). Our clinging to them keeps us from becoming fully present to and engaged in life, saps our energy and leads to depression.

Through past life regression and interlife experiences I have realized that when we die we reintegrate into the fullness, wisdom and love that we were before incarnating. In an instant, all suffering is over. But an aspect of our individual souls continue to reside in the hearts of the living and continue through the DNA of future generations.

Another woman said she was waiting for a sign from 2 relatives on her birthday but none was forthcoming. I wonder if, in looking for one specific sign, we might miss those magical, synchronic moments that happen almost daily reminding us of our interconnectedness.

Surprisingly, all this reminiscing found me, not sorrowful for the past, but anxious about the future. With Mom's death, (Dad having passed in 2002) the ties of my family of origin are broken. Released from the expectations that have defined us all our lives, our lives are, for the first time in our lives, truly our own. And, released from my duties towards my parents, I'm asking myself - who am I now, what do I really want and what do I do with this new chapter in my life.

Later that night a message from the pastor came through my answering machine. I had been thinking about him for days, wanting to let him know, personally, what a wonderful service he'd done for Mom and our family so I picked up the phone. He'd somehow gotten one digit wrong in my brother's phone number and was calling for the right one. He went on to say that he was sure I was missing Mom, that my family had done a good job honouring her at the memorial and that he was sure that she was pleased.

Signs are present everywhere when we embrace life.

healing water

2011-07-12T00:23:00.002-04:00

I have little rituals, picked up though healing circles and shamanic gatherings, that I do each day to benefit the earth and water; it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, like I'm connected to nature and stuff.

I have 2 jars both with the words, HEALING, LOVE, GRATITUDE written on the outside. The small one I fill daily from the tap. The next morning I pour all but a little bit of this water into the larger jar. The jars are in an altar space in my treatment room that is smudged daily. For over 20 years this has been a place of healing, where soothing music, chants and drumming have filled the air; during the winter months it is where I do my yoga practice in the warmth of the heater's glow while cold winds blow outside.

When the large bottle is filled I take it to the lake and pour the water back from where it came saying, "We are sorry for any suffering that we have caused you. We love you and are grateful." I learned this during a healing circle held in the aftermath of the tragic earthquake, tsunami and damage to the nuclear reactors that sent tons of radiated water back into the ocean. It is a small, but I think, important gesture for me to make.

Masuru Emoto has studied the effects of thoughts on water finding that words such as HEALING, LOVE and GRATITUDE can create the most beautiful, intricate crystals of water whereas negative words create distorted, unharmonious structures.

Since Mom died I've been immersed in the past and most especially last week as I helped my family prepare for a memorial service in her honour last Friday night.

My brother and I sorted through albums and boxes of family photos, scanned them into the computer and sent them back and forth to each other, so that he could make a slide show out of our "finds". With the assistance of one of Mom's sisters we were able to dig further into our past than I'd ever gone before. I stared deeply into the faces of many people I'd never, or rarely, met who peered back at me with an air of familiarity.

Other photos brought back happy times spent with family and friends. Time periods jumbled together. One moment we THACKERLINGS were young exhuberant children, then young adults and teens playing in the snow, babes in the arms of our Mom, forty somethings crowded on my brother's couch, children again. Back and forth; memories spilled into my consciousness.

Mom loved music. Night and day I was immersed in the music of the 30's, 40's and 50's trying to select those pieces that touched an emotional cord within me, releasing memories which would confirm, yes that one, she'd love that one!

All this memory lane stuff had me out of step with time; lost in a fog of remembrance.

My dreams were filled with stories of being late for events. I'd wake up feeling that I was running behind. It was all I could do to drag myself out of bed and most days I'd wait til the latest possible moment making my dreams a reality. I couldn't catch up with life.

One such morning I was to meet with the pastor and my brother so that we could go over the memorial and give him some details about Mom's life and her personality. Already running late, I grabbed my full bottle of "blessed, healed" water as I ran out of the house, jumped into the car and sped off with it tucked neatly by my side. Meeting literal roadblocks and detour after detour, though the nursing home is only blocks away, my frustration exploded into a stream of expletives that would "turn the air blue" as my Dad would say.

And it felt... sooo good... so relieving... that I let 'er rip, just like the scene of King GeorgeVI in THE KING'S SPEECH!

Then I remembered the poor water in the jar nestled beside me. I could see its crystals breaking apart, becoming blackened and distorted.

I know that we are composed of over 90% water. The theory behind Emoto's experiments is that if water can be effected by thoughts and words then so can we. I swear that the swearing really, really helped me release a lot of tension. But what about the poor water?

I'd have to make it up to it.

So after the meeting, back home and on my altar the jar went. I deluged it with chants, bringing in the big gun himself, the Dalai Lama, I drummed, treatment sessions were done, until I felt the water could feel the LOVE, HEALING and GRATITUDE directed its way, enough to be released back into the lake. I really don't know if this helped the water at all. All I know is that this too felt really, really good to me.

Ho'oponopono Mom

2011-06-23T22:39:00.003-04:00

A NEW JOURNEY BECKONS

2011-06-20T01:46:00.000-04:00

EDITH "EDIE" THACKER Sept 11, 1920 - June 5, 2011

In FATE AND DESTINY - the 2 agreements of the soul, Michael Meade writes of a Siberian tale of a cosmic, origin tree of life where human souls perch upon its "sky branches" waiting silently and watching like birds until something in the world below intrigues them enough to incarnate, descending and entering into "a womb where life is about to be born." (pg 122)

He then goes on to tell of an old West African story. As the soul begins to enter into earthly life it encounters a spirit (its divine companion) which accompanies the soul on its journey through the realm of incarnate beings and travels with the soul throughout its lifetime journey in the chosen body. The spirit "clarifies the image that first moved the soul and describes the terms through within which this particular life adventure will be shaped." (pg 123) This divine contract allows the soul and spirit to enter into the body and begin life on earth.

On the soul's journey towards the womb it finds itself standing before a radiant tree in the middle of a garden. The soul is instinctively compelled to touch the bark of the magnificent tree. As I understand it, this touch deeply buries the divine companion within the soul and the soul forgets what drew it to incarnate and just what it came into earthly life to accomplish for this Tree of Unity and of Life is also the Tree of Forgetfulness. This act is necessary for human life to begin.

As I dream this myth forward I imagine that as we come to the end of this incarnation our souls find themselves standing once more before the majestic Tree of Life. Once more the soul is compelled to place its hands upon the bark of the trunk but, this time, upon contact the Tree of Unity transforms into the Tree of Remembrance. The bird soul returns to perch upon the sky branches viewing its families and loved ones in the earthly realm and getting glimpses into their celestial home and of the souls who await their return. There they remain engaged in both realms until they are released from contracts with their beloved ones on earth. Upon release, the cords that bind are severed. Only then are they free to fully turn their gaze upon the Tree of Origins where their divine companion waits in full glory to accompany them on their journey home into the oneness from which they came. The body is vacated and the soul's earthly life comes to an end.

To the soul that became my mother in this earthly life I wish you courage on the next stage of your journey. And, should your bird soul once more find itself perching on the sky branches, may it be dazzled by an auspicious re-birth filled with love, compassion and joy.

Information and quotes are from FATE AND DESTINY - the two agreements of the soul by Michael Meade, Greenfire Press, 2010.

Future dreams my life

2011-06-04T15:11:00.000-04:00

I really do wonder if the dream in the last post is a dream of the future. It feels like one.

As a young child I yearned to be able to dive into water like the bigger kids, but something held me back and I'd chicken out at the last minute to the exasperation of my doting Dad. I watched and watched the others but couldn't "get it". Then one night, I dreamt the perfect dive. I felt it in my cells, muscles and bones and I just "knew" that, tomorrow I would do the perfect dive for real. And, to the complete astonishment of my father, I just dove; not a kid's fall into the water with body ramrod straight and arms stiffly held overhead that passed for a dive, but a real jump off the deck entry.

From a young age I had a facility at drawing and would spend hours sketching away at the kitchen table. Logically one would assume that sight was my strongest sense. But when people asked me how I knew how to draw I just said that I drew what I saw. But that wasn't exactly right. I know now that when I "know" the object in my cells, bones and muscles I can render it on paper. When I'm particularly inspired it virtually leaps onto the page.

When I began my study of yoga I saw myself in a dream walking along a driveway into a yoga-retreat centre in the mountains in North America. A decade later I "knew" that I was walking that same roadway one day as I returned from picking Queen Anne's Lace for a Rudolph Steiner garden potion that I would later be stirring in the pre-dawn hours and spreading over Yasodhara Ashram's garden as a temporary resident/gardener in the spring of '78.

Again that same knowing came over me when Swami Radha suggested I check out the animation program at Sheridan College, which happened to be in my home town, a place I was more than happy to leave a few years earlier and had no intention of returning to, except as a visitor. Despite my determination to stay on Vancouver Island, the island wasn't co-operating. Nothing I did met with any degree of success: my effort to make more than a subsistence living, my cartoon strip, my attempts to get to India to study yoga. All met with failure. A friend later said that islands spit you out once your purpose for being there has been served. It seemed so.

More than this, during those years on the island 2 recurring dream themes visited me. In one I was driving in a car, with my Dad in the passenger seat. We are chatting and enjoying our trip and then he dies, while I'm driving; not due to an accident — he just dies. In the other, a vague knowing that a friend introduces me to an accountant who I later marry. The latter dream, I found particularly absurd as all my life I'd said I'd never marry. Even my dreams supported me in this declaration as I'd never gotten married in my dreams. I've made preparations for my wedding, even walked down the aisle, but all would come to a skidding halt as I'd become panic stricken, break into a cold sweat and bolt or wake up knowing for certain that I was dreaming.

But, it seems that a part of me knew and perhaps so did Swami Radha, that my destiny and a new path was opening up for me, not at an ashram in India but back here in my home town.

And, within a week of my return in the spring of '86 I did meet the man I was to marry (yes, an accountant at the time but within the year he returned to his love of contracting) after an introduction by a childhood friend; a fellow member of the "council". Realizing that this looked like, but wasn't intended to be, a "fix up", she gave me the opportunity to refuse the invitation to dinner, but I passed, assuring her that I wasn't looking for a relationship. My sites were set on a career in animation that would lead to India. I felt certain that my dream was a mistake and by that time had buried it away in a corner of my being.

Then we met and I "knew" my life had changed. And Di and I both knew (as we'd always known), that we really were actually going to become sister-in-laws.

I accepted Rod's second proposal (not his first) only after receiving a close-up "hand in hand"dream image appearing against a sandy backdrop. It felt right in my cells, muscles and bones and I "knew" that he would be there for me and that there was no reason not to marry him.

My father died in 2002, not beside me in a car I was driving. I "knew" the message of this particular dream was not literal but was metaphorically telling me that I would be there for him. The efforts of my brother and myself (who shared POA duties) along with our siblings, enabled him to live at home. He died in the hospital after a, thankfully, short stay.

What future is dreaming my life now I wonder.

dreaming future

2011-06-04T00:28:00.000-04:00

I woke up Wednesday morning without recalling a dream. But I noticed as lay there, rooting through what dream memories that could be stored away in the cells of my brain and body, that I felt exceptionally relaxed. All my muscles felt like butter and my lungs seemed recharged by oxygen-rich, pure, mountain air. It was the kind of feeling one gets a few days into a vacation when you finally realize that nothing needs to be done; all effort to DO can be dropped and just BEING is the gift of the moment. Then there's the extra charge that comes when you realize that vacation's nowhere near being over, more vacation days lie ahead which ramps up your enjoyment ten-fold as you bask in this delight filled awareness!

I was able to sustain this sensation/experience for at least 15 minutes during which time, an image of a large wooden lodge-like centre came into focus. I was viewing it from a distance. The glow of the lodge's amber lights, warmed my soul on a clear, balmy, breezy summer's evening. The lodge overlooked a lake which beckoned me to dive into its waters...

So, this was not really a dream, but, an image captured from a felt sense that leaves me wondering. Did I dream the future?

A tale of 2 Lilac Bushes

2011-05-29T00:29:00.002-04:00

This lovely lilac clipping doesn't look like much, but it is just what I was longing for on Thursday as I was walking, in downtown Oakville, past someone's lush, overflowing, deliciously fragrant lilac bush. But, because the blossoms were on private property all I could do was bury my nose in the clumps of flowers overhanging the wrought iron fence and commit their scent to memory so that I might indulge in it throughout the day.

Later that night I took part in a Shamanic Journeying Circle in a co-op community centre located in a funky downtown Toronto neighbourhood. All in all there were about 21 of us ranging from very experienced to relative newbies. It was my first time journeying with this lovely group of gentle people.

As tradition has it, an altar is set up in the centre of the circle where participants may place objects of power, offerings, photographs, etc to be imbued with the collective intentions of the journeys and the vibrations of the drum, rattle, song and story.

As people entered, the altar took form. One of the last items to be placed was a bouquet of lilac blossoms freshly picked and offered to us all at the completion of the evening's work. So, my desire for a small sprig to take home was satisfied. Not only that but, I had a paper cup left over from my coffee in which to carry it securely in my car on the trip home to Burlington.

Its scent has graced our living room since then and every time I get a whiff I'm reminded that the universe does indeed support us.

The "lilac" lady also offered up some Lindt chocolates (the little individually wrapped balls of truffles - my faves) but I can't really pronounce that a synchronic happening as I'm pretty much always thinking of chocolate. It was, however, a treat that I certainly didn't turn down.

A very happy drive home was had that night as I savoured the dark chocolate melting in my mouth, the lilac sprig's scent filling my nostrils and the music of the drum, the rattle, song and stories sounding in my brain and vibrating in my cells.

Checked out at the Cash Register

2011-05-23T18:33:00.000-04:00

I have been bouncing between the book FATE AND DESTINY - The Two Agreements of the Soul by Michael Meade and THE ROBERT MOSS BLOG over the past while. I'm reading the paperback, which I keep at home. Moss' blog is on my Kindle which I keep in my purse. I dip into its wisdom at a local cafes after I've emerged from beneath the basement stairs and migrated there so that I might mingle with other house-bound workers, also connected to their wireless devices, in our sorry attempt to participate in the "outside world". Since both the book and the blog deal with aspects of the soul and spirit, jumping between them further informs and enriches my understanding of the subject matter, influences my dreams and provides tremendous synchronic happenings to boot.

As I mentioned in the previous blog entry, when you are experiencing a dream drought, observing synchronicities that appear throughout one's day can be a great source of inspiration and amusement. Developing this kind of awareness also primes one to be motivated towards, and receptive to, dream recall and moments of intuition.

Yesterday, Sunday May 22nd (the day before Victoria Day) at noon, I (along with every other Burlington resident, it seemed), was maneuvering my way through the obstacle course that grocery store isles become the day before a majour holiday. But, I'm not bothered; in fact I can proudly announce that I have a method which leaves me cool and calm; a model of considerate efficiency. I leave my cart, out of the way of traffic, at the beginning of the isle, I float between carts battling for right of way and weave through traffic jams collecting my goodies along the way. I deposit them upon my return and move to the next isle.

All went without a hitch until at a crucial moment before lining up at the cash when I remembered one more item. I parked my cart at what was an unobtrusive spot when I left it but upon my return, only moments later, had developed into a majour traffic hazard. People were pushing "my stuff" out of the way. I had become, like everyone I'd judged, inconsiderate and as I quickly rushed in to drag my cart out of the way to make amends, I gashed my left forefinger on a wayward piece of wire poking out from the body of the cart.

As I unloaded my stuff onto the conveyer belt, blood gushed out of my finger. Periodically I sucked on it vampire-like to stay the flow, self-conscioiusly imagining blood dripping down the corners of my mouth and my incisors growing longer all the while. The line behind me was forming longer and longer as I struggled.

"Do you have a band aid?" I enquired, recalling my days behind the cash and knowing this was a probability.

"Nope," she answered as my massive pile of groceries grew even higher as, between sips, I stuffed items into assorted bags and bins.

Finally she offered, "I do have some paper towels. And I can wrap this around it." She proudly flashed a tape used to mark large unbaggable purchases as paid and then proceeded to tend to my wound. "Gosh, this reminds me of when I volunteered for a kid's hospital. There you go."

I half-listened, absorbed in my task of getting through the check out as quickly as possible. Only as I made my way out to the parking lot and glanced down at my finger did I appreciate the fact that it was wrapped in the paper towel, secured by a tape decorated with a heart covering my boo boo. Many years ago I was a bored, overworked cashier longing for some break in the routine monotony that this work can be and a connection to the divine spark that resides within us all.

click on image to enlarge
© Nance Thacker 1985

I rewarded myself with a stop-over at the local Starbuck's, and went to the next blogpost where I was to resume in Moss' blog. I've been reading his entries from the beginning and what appeared was SMELL THE SYNCHRONIZING... about Moss' experience at the check out. To appreciate how this whole synchronicity thing works and the implications it has, read the comment stream that follows and especially the one by Moss relating the story of the grumpy cashier who, like me, seemed to be "under her own personal black cloud of misery" as he so succinctly puts it.

Dream drought

2011-05-14T00:44:00.000-04:00

On those mornings when my dreams evade me, slipping deeper into the shadows as I greet daylight, it feels as if I've taken off a coat and left it behind somewhere. It's not an uncomfortable feeling, it's just that I'm aware that something is missing.

After all these years of dream work I've come to expect dream droughts as part of a natural cycle of life. Before menopause my dreams would become exceptionally sensory and prolific starting around ovulation through to the beginning of my flow. Menopausal now, I experience a more continuous state of dream recall with periods of abundance around the full and new moon times. I've heard that menopausal women have greater access to states of dreaming and intuition, during "waking" states; that we have a foot in each world - those being the daily/visible realm and the otherworld/unseen realms of spirit and soul.

Anyway, I don't stress over missing my dreams, but instead use those days to look for "life rhymes" as Robert Moss calls them. To my mind, these are magical, playful, synchronicities that the universe lays before me to remind me that life is, after all, but a dream and I am the dreamer. They abound in: conversations, nature, a chance meeting, a paragraph on a page picked at random or a sign (literally) as happened this morning.

As we began our walk today, I mentioned to Candy, "I've got to sign up for the Moss dream workshop at the Omega Institute for October (I've not studied with him in person yet, though I've read his books, used his method, studied with a student of his and taken part in his online Dream Forum). It's been difficult to find a venue nearby; this is the closest I could get. I'm sure it'll be pretty popular so I should do it soon." And, at that moment as we crossed the street and stepped up from the curb I looked up to see OMEGA splashed across a sign for a hair salon. We had been talking about this before we set out to the street, and had set out our route before leaving the house this morning, so it wasn't a case of subliminal suggestion. It was more like the universe giving me a thumb's up.

Other synchronicities have been popping up during the dream drought:
I celebrated a birthday recently and decided not to have a birthday cake; it didn't seem important. But, the next day I began to have some second thoughts about it.
"It's tradition."
"But I'm not a terribly traditional person."
"It may be bad luck not to have a birthday cake."
"Ah, but that's just a belief that enforces traditional practices. I'm not buying it, besides it's rather childish."
So, I told Rod that there'd be no birthday cake which left him rather disappointed about the cake and me surprisingly, missing not the cake but the ritual of blowing out the candle; not a bunch but of candles, just one.

That very night I opened the book, FATE AND DESTINY to page 27 where I'd left off. As I read down the page I was surprised to find the last paragraph discussing birthday celebrations and that one candle was originally traditionally used. "The single flame symbolized the inner spirit and natural, shining genius that enters the world at the birth of each child." The candle symbolizes the inner flame that burns at the centre of the soul and lights ones path. When you blow out the candle you not only make a wish but...

NEWS FLASH THE PHONE JUST RANG, I'M NOW A GREAT AUNT.
YEA!

...also consider "what the candle of each life burns for. If the candle was blown out it was in order that the rising smoke could carry prayers for the spirit of the celebrant to the heavens above."

cartoon © Nance Thacker 1984

WAIT A MINUTE, SINCE I'M WRITING ABOUT CANDLES AND BIRTHDAY WISHES IT SEEMS ONLY APPROPRIATE THAT I LIGHT A CANDLE , MAKE A WISH AND BLOW IT OUT TO WELCOME BABY GIRL MESSENGER-CARRIERE TO THIS REALM AND GIVE THANKS...

Done.

I'm back now.

Anyway, the next night we bought a slice of cake for me and a custardy dessert for Rod. He presented me with my one-candle-lit cake and as I blew out the fame, sending my prayer for this year out to the heavens, my birthday celebration felt complete.

I was going to write about more coincidences but actually, none can top the birth announcement happening just as I'm writing about birthday celebration traditions.

Sometimes our dream droughts happen because something magical is occurring right here before our waking eyes. I think you now can catch my drift about how wondrous this stuff/life is; you just have to catch the moments when they arise. Also, I need to sign up for the workshop...

NOTE: I wrote this on Wednesday May 11th but couldn't post it til now cus I was waiting for official announcement from Amaya Rose's parents on FB and then BLOGGER was down for a while. The posting date that shows up is when I finally got it on the site.

DREAM CIRCLE come & play

2011-05-05T23:59:00.000-04:00

I'm very excited to be leading another DREAM CIRCLE at AKASHA'S DEN in Oakville on Wed. June 1st at 7pm.

If I had any doubts that we are all connected they were blown away during last month's Circle. After a brief discussion on dreams in general, the DREAMER shared her dream and answered questions directly related to it. As we listened our imaginations carried us to the portal of dream re-entry. Then, carried on the beat of the drum, participants became trackers and, along with the dreamer, re-entered the dream in search of answers to questions it had inspired. After emerging from her dream, we recorded and then shared our dreams of hers.

On this particular night, the light shone bright on the dreamer's journey as imagery, pathways travelled and themes, repeated themselves in the dreams of the trackers. After the spin-off dreams were shared the Dreamer talked about the backstory which fuelled that particular dream. Unlike psychotherapeutic, analytical methods of dreamwork, for this approach, it is not desirable for the trackers to know the context of the dream before their journey for we want to travel into the subconscious mind unfettered by the logical, orderly, limits of the conscious mind. We are not trying to "figure" anything out nor seeking to "interpret" the dream. Through dream re-entry we actually journey into a shared state of being and emerge with wisdom and insight that is fresh and alive.

The DREAMER as author and muse is the expert on the dreams s/he receives from their own journey and that of the trackers. Meanwhile the trackers in re-dreaming benefit from the wisdom that emerges from this shared experience.

I was first introduced to this wonderfully, shamanic, modern approach to dreamwork through the books of Robert Moss. For years I played with his method and a few summers back I had the good fortune to participate in workshops lead by long-time student of his, Ruth Lewis.

In my one-on-one sessions I build upon the Moss' Lightning Dreamwork process: utilizing hypnosis techniques to enhance dream recall; drawing from years of refined study with Swami Radha, Richard Reeves and Victoria dream groups; exploring symbology and mythology as a student of art and art history at MacMaster University.

My life has been strongly influenced by my dreams. They have inspired/driven many of my major life decisions. They add a spice to life. Their presence assures me that there is something more going on underneath the surface of my life adding a depth, richness and magical quality to this earthly experience.

In dreaming I am waking up to the fullness of life.

So, fellow intrepid dreamers (novice or experienced) come join us for the DREAM CIRCLE on June 1st at 7pm at AKASHA'S DEN in Oakville and experience it for yourself.

You may be interested in these other entries about Dreams.
DREAMS AS ALLIES
THE MEANING OF LIFE
NOT NOT KNOT

SEND A KID TO CAMP

2011-04-27T14:00:00.001-04:00

It's been a busy few weeks at Awakening Choice.

I had the pleasure of presenting (for the my 3rd year) meditation workshops at Tim Horton's Wellness Weekend on April 16th and 17th up at the beautiful TIM HORTON'S MEMORIAL CAMP in Parry Sound.

For a reasonable fee, employees of Tim's, their families and friends escape the daily grind and go to camp one weekend each year. What really thrills me is that the proceeds from the weekend go towards the TIM HORTON'S CHILDREN'S FOUNDATION which helps economically disadvantaged kids go to camp.

Being one of 5 kids of a travelling salesman and a hard working housewife, I never did get to go to camp but knew some who did and I admit I was quite envious as I read their "I wish you were here" letters. But this I know for sure... they never had as much fun as an adult can have at camp!

There's no cooking, cleaning up or thinking about food until you have to choose from the delicious offerings laid out before you; no phones ringing at all hours of the day. Rod and I have 2 business lines at home and we don't answer calls "after hours", but, what we consider "after hours" is ambiguous at best and there's no escaping anywhere the phone's distinctive ring tone. The moment we hear it, pointer-like we freeze, stop what we're doing and listen, just in case it's important — which is subject to interpretation. So, though we don't have to answer its call, we're continually on hold.

At camp, other than my commitment to teaching, my time is my own. Ahhh, no demands; no responsibilities.

Whatever shall I do? Maybe I'll take part in dance, tackle the climbing wall, go for an eco tour, have a massage, learn soapstone carving or just hole up in my log cabin room and read or snooze, sit and chat with fellow campers by the fireplace or lay on the dock gazing at the starry night sky?

Saturday night is party night and the best dance party ever! Dozens of women (and, this year, one brave male soul) rock on to the tunes of the MUSKOKA ROADS BAND from Parry Sound. Got a request? They can play it.

Though this weekend was rainy and cold and we woke up to a blanket of snow on Sunday morning, there was more fun to be had before we loaded up in the Tim's bus for our trip home. Some people car pool it but I prefer the atmosphere of the bus. On the big bus I can read, write or watch the onboard movies. Though I'd seen it at the theatre, I took in another viewing of MORNING GLORYon the way home (check out what they do to the guy who plays Ernie Appleby - hysterical!).

To all of those meditation workshop participants (15 on Sat and 21on Sunday) snuggled into the couches, draped over chairs and splayed out on the floor, covered with blankets, their heads resting on pillows as they drifted off into relaxation with me; to the staff that provided us with such lovely accommodation and food (many of whom were once TIM'S campers themselves!); and to the people at TDL Group for again accepting my offer to present my passion THANK YOU!!!

When you're in a TIM'S drop some spare change in the DONATION box for the camp. If the kids at TIM'S camp have half as good a time as I did your donations have been well spent indeed.

Gettin' the ya yas out

2011-04-13T16:03:00.001-04:00

After Rod and I'd paid our mortgage off we went nuts purchasing furniture, a new bed and bedding to go with it, blinds, a carpet (all needed, by the way) to mention just a few items, along with some other "stuff" not needed so much, but enjoyed. After all was said and done we sat on our new couches with our feet up on our new coffee table in a state of shock. What the hell had happened to us? We'd uncharacteristically spent what we would have saved from our next 3 mortgage payments.

I have a theory that we shop not only because it gives us that temporary high, but also because it gets the ya yas out. My theory goes on to explain that we also shop more when we feel anxious, sad or depressed about anything or deprived.

Keeping on a tight budget is kinda like dieting - you deny, deny, deny yourself until you just can't bear it anymore and you consume the whole damn chocolate cake instead of allowing yourself a nibble now and then.

click on cartoon to enlarge
copyright Nance Thacker 1986

What has me thinking about all this was hearing someone, just yesterday, utter the phrase "pent up consumerism". There must be a cartoon for this, I thought...and there was, from the THACKER cartoon archives circa 1986.

Have a great day NOT SHOPPING!

2011-04-08T17:55:00.001-04:00

Further in this post you will find a video titled STORY OF STUFF; HOW THINGS WORK, ABOUT STUFF by Anne Leonard. Though the video's over 20 minutes long, it's well worth taking the time to listen to what she has to say about our consumer culture and its effects on humanity, the earth, sea and sky. Plus, I really like the simple style of animation that she uses to get her point across — very effective.

STUFF BECOMES CRAP.

Now, I've got my share of "stuff", that's to be sure, after all, as human beings we are all virtual waste producing machines and I'm not just talking about the stuff that exits our orifices. There's also the "crap" that we buy into which propels us to buy crap, tire of it, tuck it away or throw it out so that we can buy more crap and on and on.

WHY ARE WE SO DRIVEN TO GET STUFF? CUS, IT FEELS SO GOOD... FOR A WHILE AT LEAST.

I find it amazing how a prized item that has given me such pleasure in: hunting it down; purchasing it (there's the real pay off — that big rush of satisfaction and accomplishment that is anticipated from the moment the flame of desire is a mere spark of inspiration); the using, wearing or eating of it, eventually becomes "stuff" to be stored or "crap" to be gotten rid of. More often than not, the very moment we attain our object of desire, is the beginning of its decline in favour.

MARKETING, ADVERTISING AND THE POWER OF SUBTLE (OR NOT SO SUBTLE) SUGGESTIONS THAT WE'RE BOMBARDED WITH 24/7 - FUELS OUR DESIRE FOR STUFF. SEE LEONARD'S "YOU SUCK" CYCLE OF CONSUMER DESIRE.

These three examples stand out for me:

The notion that you can "save money" by spending money sends the message that saving money is good; the reality is that this isn't the way to do it. Reality check — once it's spent it's gone, I don't care how good a deal you got, besides what are you going to do with the money you "saved" but, buy more "stuff".

After declining to sign up for a department store's BONUS POINTS CARD (explaining that I'm a hit and run, not a browsing, type of shopper) the cherry toddle-oo the cashier gave me was, "Have a great day shopping". Have a great DAY shopping? Is she nuts? Was she listening at all? You want me to have a great day? I just got my "stuff" now get me outta here. Time spent browsing is too much time spent in "you suck" territory; too much time spent in temptation's lair. Hey, I'm not immune.

And, one of my faves is this motto "Be seen. Be seen shopping," the Oakville equivalent of counting coup found emblazoned on promotional banners throughout the town a few Christmases ago.

If I sound a little judgmental, a little self-satisfied it's because, except for a few exceptions (knitting, sporting supply stores, One of a Kind Craft Show, a really great grocery store), I really don't like to shop. For the most part, shopping makes me anxious. Some people are "stuff" people and some are "experience" people. I'm the latter. Let me: travel and explore the outdoors and new places, indulge in the fare of a great restaurant, sit in a cafe (preferably in Paris) and watch the world go by, take time to write, read and play and I'm happy. But Leonard's video reminds me that everything I do taxes the earth and our resources. My purchases, well thought out as they may be; the requirements of the activities I enjoy, all take their toll.

I'm not sure what to do with all this. I just know that awareness is the spark to inspiration and maybe if enough people become inspired, creative ways in being in the world (while minimizing the damage we cause, or even giving back to it) may be discovered and what a wonderful world that would be!

HAPPY FEET!!!

2011-04-05T11:57:00.001-04:00

On Sunday March 27th at 1:10 pm, after walking for 4 hrs 40 minutes and 45 seconds I crossed the finish line of the 2011 AROUND THE BAY 30K, shaving 15 minutes off of the previous year's finish.

ENTER THIS INTO YOUR BROWSER TO SEE ME, IN MY ENTHUSIASTIC MOMENT, JUST ABOUT WHACK MY POOR SISTER IN THE HEAD AS WE CROSS THE FINISH LINE - SORRY C

http://bit.ly/eHEzQC

The marathon Gods were smiling on us as that day as the sun shone throughout the race. It didn't rain or snow, though a smattering of stubborn snow patches remained here and there from previous storms. The days leading up to the event were cold, dull, overcast, windy and often wet so it didn't bode well for race day. Was I going to trudge through the event in hiking boots or brave the predicted double digit cold temperatures in my Vibram 5 finger shoes? All I could think about was the terrible state of my feet after tackling last year's 30K in walking shoes, the blisters were so bad that I was forced to walk the last 3K in bare feet or risk not finishing. Once I got out of my shoes I felt some relief, though walking through streets with broken blisters felt a little dicey.

This year, I decided anything would be better than repeating the experience of my '10 finish, so I wore the Vibrams.

They look just like my feet!

The worst part of the race was the 10 or so minutes that Candy and I stood around in the cordoned off area waiting to start. The shadows cast by the surrounding buildings kept the pavement at a freezing temperature which bit into the bones of my feet. As I shifted from foot to foot to keep them warm, accompanied by the occasional grimace, I looked like someone who had to pee real bad. I bent over now and again to wrap my toes in my "I am Canadian" 2010 Olympic gloves and my back pack ploughed into the back of my head each time.

For the first 3K my feet were burning from the cold and I thought maybe I'd made a mistake in not taking a pair of hiking boots as back-up. But, as we progressed, the sun soaked the pavement, making it warmer and warmer. The "barefoot" experience became very pleasurable indeed!

I'm pretty sure I was the only walker to wear these shoes though I counted 3 other runners in my model, one runner in a blue pair (which has segmented pads on the underside) and one truly brave soul running literally barefoot the whole distance. There were probably more "barefoot" runners (using the Vibrams) than I counted, but, being the only walker meant that I got chatted up, a lot. Walkers seemed less able to imagine covering the distance in these shoes than the runners, probably due to the amount of time it takes to walk vs run. So many runners would slow and comment on how they always wondered what the shoes felt like and asked, "Do you like them?", "Isn't it hard on your feet or back?", "How do you get used to them?" The answers are: definitely; nope, far more comfortable for me than shoes although my sciatic did begin to bother me towards the end of the run (see*); because I'm barefoot most of the time they take no getting used to, however if you wear runnners or walking shoes you may want to take a clinic in barefoot running. Check out your local running store/club, in our area that's - NEW WORLD RUNNER'S on Plains Road in Burlington.

When I was asked, "What do the soles look like?" I'd hop around to reveal the smooth, thin sole as we made our way along the route. The soles are smooth, have no grip, but do have some lines of wavy slices through the areas which need more ability to flex such as the balls of the feet and minor built up areas on the heels, base of big and little toes and the pad of the toes.

click on this pic to check out the soles

*By the last 5K my feet were burning a little from the stimulation of the surface beneath them, but last year they were burning, swollen, blistered and excruciatingly painful. I realized then that the last 5K are challenging for me with or without these shoes. Relief was gained by jogging down the hills which lessened the impact on my heels and gave my metatarsals different stimulation and though last 3K was flat, jogging now and then mixed the stressors up in a good way. It was during this time my right sciatic began to bother me but I chalk it up to needing longer training sessions and the addition of the back pack which kept on shifting throughout the course and was a major pain in the butt (note to self: next year smaller, snugger pack).

Hopefully, next year, the weather leading up to the race will be kinder and I'll be able to train more in the Vibrams. When I ran, the little bit that I did, it felt amazing - my feet felt light and without the cumbersome binding and padding of regular walking/running shoes my stride was natural and free...almost makes me want to run it next time.

I can't attribute the 15 min difference in finish time solely to the shoes. Candy and I fell into a system wherein we alternated when we used the loo. One would take a pit stop and the other would continue along. Pit stop-pee would then run/walk to catch up to the non-pee'r and so no time was lost. Also kudos to the race organizers who placed enough stalls along the route that we never had to wait in line!

Best of all, I finished feeling fantastic in body, mind, spirit and sole!

Thanks to all who sponsored me for this run. Together, at last count, we raised $340. for St Joseph's Healthcare Foundation in Hamilton!

Thanks also to those great people who manned the watering/gatorade stations and the many supporters who lined the route cheering us all on, this is what also makes the event so much fun!

SPRING IN SOUTHERN ONTARIO!

2011-03-23T20:29:00.005-04:00

I am Canadian and I live in Burlington Ontario so I supposed I shouldn't be shocked by the sight that greeted me this morning (our 3rd day of spring) when I looked out the door.

Call me a wimp if you will, but I quickly closed the door, cranked up the heat and decided to work from home for the remainder of the morning.

Earlier this morning I'd cancelled my 30K Around the Bay training walk with Candy. We'd try for later in the day we both agreed and once I hung up the phone I dove back into bed for some early morning drifting of my own.

I'd hoped that when I next opened the door I'd find the blaze of the afternoon sun had melted all the snow and I could drive off in my chariot unobstructed and be off for my walk. This was not to be so. Candy and I deemed conditions too lousy for even an afternoon saunter.

But errands were begging to be tended to and before ALF W and I could head out some serious shovelling had to be done. In this pic, serious shovelling resulted in this bleak, windswept sight. It is as cold as it looks!

And, here's where all of the heavy, wet stuff, plus chunks of ice got put. My front yard is under there somewhere. I do like the nice little drift to the left of the tree. It shows you the direction of the wind. For every toss of snow I heaved into the air a substantial amount pelted me in the face. On the plus side; I won't need to exfoliate for days!

Though initially Flippy was disappointed that I'd shut the door this morning and robbed her of her morning ritual of overseeing her domain, in her capacity as the mistress of the neighbourhood, on subsequent investigation I swear I clearly heard her say, "what the F**k!"

Prayer in many forms

2011-03-18T16:27:00.002-04:00

Prayer, it's almost an embarrassing thing to admit nowadays, that I pray. I don't know why. I mean there are many forms of prayer; many motivations behind a prayer.

My earliest recollection of a prayer was this one taught to many a tiny, innocent child.
Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray the lord my soul to keep
If I should die before I wake
I pray the lord my soul to take
This prayer scared the shit outta me. I'm sure it was responsible for my life long neck issues (explained here) and probably scarred me for life. The whole idea that God was some kind of creep out there cruising for someone to pluck up in the night didn't endear me to him (I was sure God must be a him). It didn't make me want to jump into bed any more than a lobster would willingly jump into a boiling pot. So, I guess that's why the whole damn Thacker clan are night people; because of this damn prayer.

Like most of us, I have been known to use prayer as a bargaining tool, for example:
"Please, please, please let me just get through this test that I didn't study for and I promise, cross my heart, that I'll study for days in advance from now on. I promise!" Miraculously passing the test has the power to wipe away any memory of promises made.

We pray for what we want to happen. We want our friends and family to be safe, happy, prosperous and healthy. When something bad happens to a loved one we pour our hearts out to God to make them better, to heal them, to watch over them and for a self-prescribed outcome that would make everything right once more, not only for them but, for our breaking heart.

The devastation in Japan and the horror experienced by the Japanese people has elicited a strong response in all of us to help in any way we can, through monetary donations, gestures of support, expressions of empathy and all forms of prayer.

Friends have been circulating this JAPANESE NUCLEAR REACTOR VISUALIZATION video by Adam Dreamhealer via e-mail in hopes that if enough people focus on the power of positive intention and visualization, that the situation will be brought under control with minimal damage to lives and the environment. Engaging in this visualization, people come together to raise the vibration and effect a change in our consensus reality. Behind this belief system is the reality that we are merely organized thought forms and thought has the power to affect what only seems to be a solid, material world.

The Foundation for Shamanic Studies issued this e-mail release to its members to enlist the power of helping spirits to assist in the healing for Japan with the reminder that the Japanese spiritual traditions (90% of the population is Buddhist or Shinto) regarding life, death and healing must be fully respected.

People are lighting candles, praying in churches or at their personal altars, smudging, chanting, reciting mantras, and "flying" to assist the healing process in Japan. NOTE: FLYING FOR JAPAN - SAT MAR 19TH 6 - 7:30pm at HOT YOGA WELLNESS CONCORD, 1750 Steeles Ave W in Toronto.

At the end of every Yoga Centre of Victoria satsang, recitation of Swami Radha's Divine Light Invocation was performed in which loved ones, those in need of healing, and projects needing assistance were seen whole, healthy and successful as they were"put into the light". The visualization progressed as our little collection of light brightened and expanded outwards join with other centres of light to include and offer healing energy to the earth and ultimately the universe.

And of course the forgiveness of Ho'oponopono is another way to offer a prayer for healing in whatever form it may take. The power of forgiveness extends as we forgive others who have transgressed against us and also ask for their forgiveness for our own ill-conceived actions. When we forgive ourselves for our own failings, the power behind this intention is amplified.

As I've observed, prayers of indigenous peoples not only display acceptance of the wisdom in "thy will be done" but also give thanks in advance for the healing that has taken place. Rather than pray for "something to happen" gratitude is expressed for the opportunity that exists in every day, for what has been received and an honouring of those spirits in their many forms who have made it so.

Some believe that the universe has its own plan and its own wisdom that is inconceivable to us mere humans. What good will come out of this suffering? Will the world become a more compassionate place? Will advances in safer technology result? Will individuals and the human race shift our priorities? Will our world view change?

Time will tell if the shift of the earth's plates below the ocean on that fateful day was the beginning of a shift in consciousness for us all.

Playtime in the bat room

2011-03-13T23:49:00.001-04:00

REACHING FOR THE FLOOR
One of my favourite things to do is just hang around on the ropes. This series feels so great for the upper back and shoulders. As I look at these pictures I realize that they don't convey the sense of opening that I feel in my body. In this first picture, I feel as if I'm bending at a 90 degree angle; my legs feel parallel to the floor.

CHEST OPENER
Here, I've swung back, using my legs to propel me so that I can catch the lower set of ropes. By bringing my arms out to the sides there is a tremendous stretch across the chest.

BODY ARCH
As I stretch my arms "up" above my head you can see how the full arc of the body is complete. The arch is distributed throughout the body. This is the perfect way to open out the groins and the arm pits, thus take the strain off of the lumbar which can take the brunt of the load in back bending.

I DON'T KNOW WHAT THIS IS... it just feels great!
Again, perception is deceiving here. It feels as if my feet are just inches away from my head, but not so. I play between this posture and the two previous ones, cycling and flowing from this to arms "up", to arms out wide, to arms "up", back to this one and so on.

This actually is how I use my legs to catch the lower ropes, pulling the ropes with my heels I take a few swings to be able to reach the lower ropes. I'm able to hold the position with my legs and then extend my arms "up" to get that first really great body arch stretch.

Around the Bay

2011-03-07T12:36:00.001-05:00

Hi all,

Flippy's back, asking you to help me raise funds for St Joseph's Healthcare Foundation in Hamilton. Once again I'm walking the 30K AROUND THE BAY road race. First started in 1894, it's the oldest one in North America.

I've made it easy for you. You'll make my steps lighter with your support. All you have to do is click on SPONSOR NANCE make your pledge and I'll be all fuelled up and ready to run...well, not run actually but, I'll be doing a blistering pace as I walk. Well...hopefully NOT a blistering pace! I already did that last year. How about a non-blistering pace which still is pretty darned exciting.

aftermath of blistering pace last year

The old shoes (pictured) are out; the "new" ones are in. Whether they'll be my Vibram 5 fingers shoes or other is yet to be decided as the weather out this way has been pretty cold and more of the same is expected on race day, March 27th.

Will these babies be the ones?

The aptly named CHILLY HALF marathon was run this past weekend. The runners went to bed after moderately mild, rainy day and woke up to a blanket of snow covering icy roads and the howl of blustery winds. By the time the race was on road crews had cleared and prepared a decent surface but the winds remained chilly indeed.

Anyway here we go again. My sister Candy will be walking too!

Now I just need to get out and get some mileage (kilometrige?) under my belt.

Wish me luck and happy feet!

Check out Da Agony of Da Feet, the blog entry I posted after last year's walk.

TIME FLIES

2011-02-25T18:25:00.004-05:00

Oh boy, this cartoon has me tripping down memory lane. Life was so simple back then, sigh.

The "shoulds" that invade my space (when I have a "day to devote to art") like flies around s**t, still remain the same as back then with the addition of a bazillion others that were not even possibilities in my life in 1990. Today, when I have time to myself, I'm more likely to see what my friends (I mean real, actual, friends) are doing on facebook, Tweet, write this blog, check out my e-mail for messages from clients (somehow work creeps in there) and friends, figure out what the heck to do with Linkedin (work), attempt putting together my website (more work), muck about with garage band in the effort to make a CD or MP3 (yup, more work but with an element of play). So, if I was to add all those to the 3rd box in the panel above and the character would be obliterated by "stuff" to do. And, that's just how it feels lately, like I'm buried in housework and technology...

Excuse me, my Skype phone is ringing, I KID YOU NOT!...

...I'm back.

Well, I mistakenly punched up my e-mail instead of the Skype thingy. I quickly got out of it, but not before the little squares of messages began appearing on the bottom right of my screen, along with their cheery jingles - which is really what I was trying to get away from in the first place. I should explain, I'm in a Starbuck's as I write this. Sometimes I just have to stop being the "thing that lives at the bottom of the stairs" and come out for air, a latte and the sound of other living, breathing sorry Maya and Flippy and talking bipeds.

By the time I got to the Skype, there was no one there and I'm not up enough with technology to find out who, if anyone, was trying to reach me or if the Skype itself was just calling to say, "Hi, I'm here, don't forget about me." Hey, I'm sure this happens. Why, just the other night our phone called 911 - I SWEAR THIS IS TRUE, JUST ASK THE COP WHO SHOWED UP AT OUR FRONT DOOR AT 10PM. Seems they get 3 - 4 calls a day from lines that have shorted out or something. Anyway, that's another story...

You see how insidious this stuff is!

It's not that I don't like technology, just the opposite, I've discovered my inner computer geek waiting to get out. The other day, "Mad Mike" the computer guy, was showing me all the amazing things one could do with garage band on a Mac and I sat there in awe recalling all the time, steps, people and external stuff I once required to do similar stuff in animation in the mid '80's. And now, it's all contained within a portable device the size of a laptop. WOW!!!

Writing (using the computer) has taken the place of drawing for the moment. I wonder if, when I decide to do more cartoons, I'll even be sitting at a drawing board at all, or will the computer be the medium I choose? At this time I can't imagine forgoing the feel of the pencil in my hands, the flow of the ink on the page and the spontaneous dialogue that arises, changing the rough draft into something previously unimagined, in the time it takes to produce one panel. It all unfolded, gracefully, slowly, organically. What will happen when the speed of the computer comes into the mix?

Time. Time is the factor here. Life has sped up for us all, only us Boomers are more aware of it than the younger generations.

It's mind boggling to realize that there are actual adults walking around who were raised: always being connected to others with their own personal cel phone, who think nothing of posting their own video on youtube, who expose their bodies for all to see on facebook, who consider facebook connections as "actual friends", who will never know the joys of Sunday as a day of rest - no kidding, nothing was open at all - NO SHOPPING FOR ONE WHOLE DAY EVERY WEEK, YEAR IN YEAR OUT!!!

The amount of tasks I can do in ONE day would have been impossible in '90 due to: the car I didn't have back then, my cel phone, my computer and all the skills that allow me to: arrange appointments, gather info for free at the click of a mouse, correspond with family and friends, Google maps, and on and on...

Things are speeding up and that includes the way the brain processes information. Want proof? Got a problem with your computer? Consult a 6th grader. The more you work with this stuff the easier it becomes and not through conscious rational thought; something else is clicks in.

The computer is changing the even the way the world operates - look at how info is being disseminated regarding what's going on in the middle east; look at the wave of change sweeping through that area and so the world.

WOW!!!

What this all means for me personally is it's more important than ever to prioritize how I spend my time and discover what really recharges me. Which means that, sometimes, I just have to close up shop, turn the computer off, leave the cel phone at home gasp and walk away from it all.

BYE - gone fishin'

Winter wearing thin

2011-02-08T23:44:00.002-05:00

Click on image to enlarge
© Nance Thacker 1985

I have been loving this winter! I love that we've had snow that's lasted for weeks and weeks, that the days for the most part have been cold, crisp and sunny and... that we've had a "snow day" which is like the best excuse ever to drop everything you have to do and just kick back.

But, I've been getting the first sign that my enthusiasm is beginning to turn. No, I'm not getting tired of the cold or the snow. I'm getting weary of all the layers and layers of clothes that such a winter demands I wear especially today as I moved through 3 totally different venues: a business meeting, skating with a friend and doing a Shiatsu house-call. Inside, outside; inside, outside... layers on, layers off; layers on, layers off...further burdened with sessions of choosing and changing from business to sporty to therapeutic attire.

Then there's keeping track of all the gloves, socks and scarves. It's no wonder that Mom lined all 5 of her brood up, zipped us into our snow suits with hooded jackets, shoved our feet into winter boots and our little hands into mitts attached with strings and tossed us out one by one into the cold til the last was wrapped up and delivered. She shut the door and locked it behind us (I know, unheard of nowadays) until we'd gotten the prescribed dose of healthy fresh air (it was actually believed that being outdoors daily was good for children). Of course once the last child was turfed out the bladder of the first one was just about ready to burst. The sensation of full bladders would spread through the little troop like wild fire and all 5 of us would be pounding on the door and wailing dramatically to be let in.

Mom, from her vantage point at the other side of the closed door, using her "mom knows best" voice, would re-assure us that our little bodies had this amazing capacity to re-absorb the offending liquid, all we had to do was run around in the snow a bit and we'd see that it was true. And, for the most part, she was right.

Once the howling stopped and the older ones took charge, she'd retire to the most coveted place in the house, her sanctuary — the bathroom where she'd enjoy an uninterrupted flow of her own, sink into a hot, bath infused with baby oil and drift to a place where only mothers go on such an occasion; the most incredible dimension imaginable.

All this tripping down memory lane emphasizes the point I that I wanted to make which is — when I begin to yearn for the days when a tan is all that one needs to wear I know that the shine is beginning to wear from winter's appeal.

NOTE ON THE CARTOON: No, I didn't go to Hawaii in '85, but friends of mine did. I could only send Dealin' Dan the Tour Man there in my imagination.

Borne of Woman's Tears

2011-02-05T10:59:00.000-05:00

I just read the blog CHASING THE GHOST by Dave Cleverly which begins here — as he's standing on Lion's Gate Bridge in Vancouver getting ready to jump.

In subsequent posts he talks about prayer and finding God. And it prompted memories of some dark times in my own past and this piece that I wrote in the winter of '84.
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Her eyes were burning with tears she would not shed. She curled up on the couch, laid her head upon its armrest and closed her eyes. Her breath, limited to her upper chest, choked back the flood of emotion pressing from within.

Why did she feel this way?

She didn't want to know.

Proud of her strength, she believed that if she delved into the source of her turmoil she would be lost forever in her weakness so she willed herself not to succumb, but, her breath becoming shallower, more laboured in her chest, her throat, was delivering her into her pain.

Her shoulders became limp as all the energy drained out of her, dissolving her physical boundaries, expanding and wrapping around her as a larger, embracing form.

She heard/sensed these words, "You are tired. Rest with me."

She felt her tension being physically stroked away.

"It's all right. YOU will be all right. Let go. Let go."

She felt breathing in another's breast upon which her head rest, and with each breath these words repeating. "You are afraid. You have many fears. I will take care of them. Trust in me."

That timeless voice — low, soft, feminine, familiar — flowing through her from heart to heart, which could resist the truth no longer.

Tears welling as she released her fears, she heard, "You are loved. KNOW that you are loved." And, at that moment, in knowledge, tears flowed.

Resting in Mother God herself, she was swept away on those tears into a deep womb of sleep.

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I am tempted to say that this is just a piece of writing, but it is not.

It was an experience.

My recording of the event doesn't come near to the immensity of what transpired back then, but it is as clear, as intense, as kinaesthetic and as immediate to me now as it was back then. It consoled me, buoyed me up, gave me hope back then...

as it does now.

Some people consciously find their way to God and sometimes God needs to find those who are lost and don't even know that they are seeking him/her at all.

Winter in all its glory!

2011-02-03T18:09:00.001-05:00

Cute little bunny trail in our back yard.

On the Bruce trail someone left carrots
perhaps for cute little bunnies or deer?

Flippy decides she's done with winter and wants nothing to do with it.
She holes up in my clothes closet amongst all of my
dark sweaters, of course

How my Big Beautiful Girl was able to get up in there
I'll never know.

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Happy Ho'oponopono Day all!

2011-02-02T16:29:00.000-05:00

I've been tweeting at AwakeningChoice almost daily since Nov 27th.

And, I've declared today as Ho'oponopono Day - how wonderful the world would be if everybody could spend a day in the spirit of Ho'oponopono.

Here's how I came up with this thought.

My tweets are mostly my thoughts inspired by my response to events of the day, synchronicity, meditation, inquiry, realizations, dreams, etc. But I do re-tweet or quote from other inspiring sources when I find something that speaks to me.

For the past few days I have been mulling over relationships, more specifically what I've contributed, for better or for worse to relationship. I'd like to think that I'm a good friend - loyal, there for my buds, someone who provides a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on. I'm a confidant, a cheering section, a wall to bounce ideas off of; I am a great listener. I can kid you into a better mood or console you when you're suffering. I've been called the "human valium" (No, it's not because I'm boring; but because, when it is needed, I have a strangely calming effect on others. Yah, I know, me! Weird isn't it!) Paradoxically, like a big goofy chocolate lab, I'm your, always up for and ready to try anything, mate. That is all good.

However, I have been and can be, judgmental, petty, jealous, envious and fearful. I've been a whiner. In fact my inner whiner sits at the door to my mouth ready to get out of the starting gate at the slightest provocation; my low tolerance for frustration being its prime trigger. Happy with my own company, I can be lost in my own thoughts (positive or negative) and therefore out of communication, for days, which doesn't make me the ideal partner. I could go on... but that would be ego-fuelled indulgence and serve no good purpose.

Humans naturally feel remorse for the negative unspoken thoughts that we harbour and for our thoughtless, or intentionally hurtful, knee-herk reactions to the insensitive, cruel or thoughtless deeds of others. Remorse gives us pause, allows us to acknowledge our transgressions and set the course right within ourselves. We are meant to feel remorse and move on. It's not meant to be a place of residence. When one is stuck in remorse it evolves into indulgent, self-pity which sucks the energy out of our best intentions to make it right, learn from our mistakes, forgive and move on as a more evolved being.

I first became aware of this fact during a workshop with Swami Radha. I observed her as she was listening to the "story" of a participant. The moment the woman's remorseful attitude made the shift into self-pity, Swami Radha did an abrupt 360 and shifted the whole scene to the hard facts and a new line of inquiry. This was done so quickly that the student didn't know what had hit her, just that all of a sudden there was awareness, blame had vanished and forgiveness transpired. UN-FRIK'N BELIEVABLE! Swami Radha embodied: razor-sharp discrimination to cut through all the "stuff", infinite compassion and a fierce, tough, uncompromising love.

Bottom line is that love, compassion and forgiveness are transformative vehicles which will transport one out of indulgent self-pity, amongst other undesired states of mind.

The question is how can I access this when there is no Swami Radha to guide me (Swami Radha left this realm on Nov 30, 1995)?

One lovely way is the use of this Ho'oponopono prayer as a meditation or mantra. One translation for Ho'oponopono is to make right.

Forgive me,
If I have hurt you
in any way, shape or form,
in thought, word or deed,
in any time, any place,
past, present or future,
Forgive me.

And I forgive you
For hurting me
in any way, shape or form,
in thought word or deed,
in any time, any place,
past, present or future,
I forgive you.

I forgive myself,
And may the great Mystery
Forgive us both.

AMAMA, U A NOA – the prayer is freed.
© Rieckmann/Sakuma 1999.

Click here for more about Ho'oponopono.

Have a fabulous, great, good or merely stupid day; but not a bad one :)

play by play analysis of a "stupid" day

2011-01-28T17:29:00.003-05:00

I thought that I was having a "bad" day yesterday. But, I decided to check it out to see if in fact this was so. Here is a play by play account of the events that transpired and my analysis of the day.
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LEGEND

POSITIVE VALUE:
:) This is a good thing = +1 point
:D This is a really good thing = +5 points
:-D laughing - 10 points
:'-) happy crying — priceless

NEGATIVE VALUE:
:( This is not a good thing = -1 point

NEUTRAL
:0 A sense of awe
%-( confusion
=-O"Uh - oh"
;-(  "WTF"
$%&#$%(&*#^#%^ swearing aloud
#^#&^&$*&^%^$$ swearing silently
:-@ scream
:@ Exclamation "What???"
")(" shaking oneself violently with or without jumping about as if trying to shake water off one's body
_________________________
EVENT #1
It's...well I don't know just what time it was when I was rudely awoken, not once but five times, by the sounds of my FLIPPY & MAYA barfing :( :( :( :( :(

Oddly enough I can tell exactly which one is barfing and get a general location of the barfee and therefore the barf. :) :)

I can feel Rod laying in bed as I am, as still as possible, in the hopes that the other will get out of bed first and have to deal with it. The long wait is on, each conscious of the other.
Rod had picked up his supplies the previous night and was sleeping in :(
I was getting up earlier than normal to meet with Candy and go for a walk. :(  :)

I have my socks on :)
Slithering on my belly like a Marine on a mission I am able to locate all 5 barf-land mines WITHOUT walking through them :) :) :) :) :)

Maya had horked up 1 gigantic furball (picture her without eyes or legs and you have just about the size of the furball that Tiny Perfection can project forth) :0 (equals :)

Flippy aka Poopy Butt Girl doesn't spew forth anything but gloppy white slime :(
Which means explosive diarrhea will be forthcoming :(
Which means I'll have to cover my duvet (her kitty box of choice when she's percolating) with plastic :(
Which means days of vigilance ahead :(

Maya looks relieved :)
Flips belly feels bloated :(

TALLY - 12 :(   11 :) TOTAL = -1
________________________
EVENT #2
Lost in thought as I drive along the QEW I see the right lane veering away from me and at that very moment I realize that I've missed my cut off $$&^&*%&   :(

I know how to get back :)

On the return approach I'm not sure what the name of the exit is as I go by terrain and not signs. I get sucked into the Bermuda Triangle that Burlington Street exit (the same one that got me in this predicament in the first place) has become $%*%&&*&* ")(" :(

I know a different and more scenic way to get back :) :) (I like scenery)

Though I am 30 minutes late Candy can still go for our walk, and we have a lovely one, the day is warm, she's brought some peanuts for con artist squirrels and we visit a lovely tree :) :) :) :) :)

TALLY - 2 :(   8 :) TOTAL = + 6
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EVENT #3
I am visiting my nursing home client later that afternoon :)

My hot stone client wants to come 30 minutes early; it's a squeeze getting back in time but reluctantly I agree - I'm feeling pressured :(

The stuff I've gotten out of the car doesn't include my keys, phone, or money all of which I've locked inside #%^&$$^*&**&  ")(" :( :( :(

Oh well, I'll deal with it later - able to shift to positive state :)

Session with my client is lovely & she is over the flu  :) :)

Staff offers use of their phone and I can remember phone numbers of my brother and a friend :) :) :)

I have difficulty dialing out, need the help of staff member (not once, but 3 times, the last time she gives me a consoling pat on the back), I feel like a looser after all I'm the stress management specialist :( :( :( ;-(

My friend comes to the rescue, we call the CAA, go to her brother's to wait it out :) :) :)

I realize I wont be back on time for the appointment :(

I call my client's place of work, "Yes, she's here" says the guy on the phone :)
No, she's not :(
I have to call back and ask him for her cel #. Before he'll give it out he asks, "How many daughters does she have?. (this is a good thing for security reasons and I agree with him) $%^&*$^*$* ")("

but...I'm sure it is 2 but if I'm not right he won't give me the number. Damn, what is the name of the daughter that I know? For the life of me I can't pull it out as it's one of those names in which the given and surname are interchangeable and her surname is different form her Mom. :( :(

I repeat my name and what I do. He's heard of me. He gives me her number. :) :) (bonus - it's nice to be recognized)

She answers, is disappointed, and "by the way I have a bladder infection" :) :( :(

I can't treat someone in the early stages of a bladder infection so it's a good thing that I couldn't get home in time as she'd have come all the way out only to be refused treatment. :) :) :) :)

I visit with my friend and her brother while we enjoy rum infused home made egg nogg :) :) :) :D

Later we watch the CAA guy jimmy the door lock...cool :)

I tip him the only money I have, which amounts to... 65 cents =-O ...I'm such a looser   :(

TALLY - 14 :(   27 :) TOTAL = + 13
_________________
EVENT #4
Making the best of the situation I go to Shopper's Drug Mart with my friend. :)

Getting out of the car I realize that I don't have my glasses @#$%^@^^@ ")("  :-@ ")(" $%^#%&$^$&#% :(

We decide to deal with this after we shop but I'm obsessed and become laden with tics (like a dog trying to shake off water after a long, long swim) that arise spontaneously at the thought of having to retrace my steps or worse go back to the nursing home where things have legs and walk away @$^##%^#$^# ")(" :( :( :(

It's seniour's day. Am I really that old? :@ ")(" :) :(

After my friend's purchases are rung in she gets not only the seniour's discount but also a coupon for $10 as she's spent over $60. She really wanted the coupon and tried hard to get it. :) :) :)

He then tells us that you have to be 60 to get seniour's discount, but we're not. Having already given her the discount he gives me one too. :( :)

I have purchased over $60 without even trying. I get a coupon ;-( :)

TALLY - 6 :(   7 :) TOTAL = +1
____________________________
EVENT #5

My friend decides to leave me to do the hunt on my own :) :) (wise decision for us both)

They are not in her car, or mine, or the parking lot (a frail old couple approaches %-( as I'm crouched down snooping around their car which is parked in the same space mine had occupied :( :( :( :(

Upon leaving them I pat down my pockets again. Realizing I have an inside pocket in the inner jacket I dig in, deep down and lo and behold there they are! But I feel like an idiot :D :(

TALLY - 5 :(   7 :) TOTAL = + 2
___________________________
EVENT #6

I drive home at my leisure with my glasses on so I am pleasantly aware of oncoming traffic, stop signs and the like :) :)

I don my PJ's and rather than curl up into a little ball (my first inclination) Rod and I eat toasted bacon bagel sandwiches while we watch 3rd season of Boston Legal episodes 17 & 18. Our faith is restored in a previously great show that had suffered horrible writing for the previous episodes of that season :) :) :) :) :D

I indulge, further obliterating the woes of the day, in watching 30 ROCK & OUTSOURCED :-D :D

TALLY - 0 :(   21 :) TOTAL = + 21
_________________________
NON-EVENT #7
POOPY BUTT GIRL DOESN'T STRIKE TONIGHT :D

However, it may only be a matter of time :(

BUT...NOT TONIGHT :'-)

TALLY - 1 :(   5 :) TOTAL = + 4
GRAND TOTAL
40 :( to 86 :) = + 46
________________________
Wow, my experience of "this is a good thing" things was way more than my "this is not a good thing" things; not bad.

And so, we bid adieu to — not the bad day I originally thought I was having — but, merely a "stupid" one.

May your days be fantastic, fabulous, great or at least good. And, if they can't be any of those may they merely be "stupid" but not bad.

Red faced eating humble pie moment

2011-01-23T00:11:00.000-05:00

She brought a tiny chocolate bar & a special bottle of wine from a friend's vineyard before the other guest arrived...OK I'm officially a hypocrite.
My other guest brought the equally appreciated nothing.

Social suicide - YOU ARE ENOUGH

2011-01-21T23:08:00.001-05:00

I am just about to commit social suicide. But, before I do, I'd appreciate a moment of silence in honour of the death of my social life...

OK, here it goes...

Remember the days when you could just pick up the phone and invite people over at the drop of a hat? And they'd come make-upless in their comfiest duds? And you'd order in pizza, eat junk food: glow-in-the -dark-orange cheesies, potato chips (dunked in vinegar), popcorn, drink pop, watch movies and just hang out? Whatever happened to those days? Where did they go? Where did we go?

We grew up that's what. We entered into the age of responsibility rife with image consciousness and rules of etiquette that we call adulthood. Casual get togethers seem to have been relegated to childhood.

Why is it that we women can't just pull up a chair and relax without hauling food, drink and groceries to every gathering we attend for fear of being judged if we don't. The rare times my mother went to social gatherings she came complete with her rubber gloves packed into her purse ready to be pulled out the minute the tables got cleared. An extremely shy individual, she felt more comfortable in the kitchen than engaging in small talk but I think that some part of her felt duty bound to perform this service as she didn't feel worthy to be the recipient of hospitality.

TO ME IT FELT LIKE SHE WAS APOLOGIZING FOR HER PRESENCE.

Lately I have been politely requesting that people just bring themselves, nothing else, no: food, drink, flowers or gifts are necessary. Yet still people feel compelled to bring grocery loads. I really don't want them to bring anything. I truly want them to let go, kick back and just chill without apology. After all men do it all the time, why can't we?

Are we afraid that we'll look bad if we don't bring anything but someone else does? This is such an awkward moment for a host. What do I do? Not wanting to offend I thank the guest for the offering, yet this very action makes me feel like a hypocrite and seems to negate the sincerity of my request in the eyes of those who've brought the very thing I asked for - NOTHING.

In my effort to provide an effortless night for my guests my latest invite came with this request in bold letters, PLEASE ONLY BRING YOURSELF AND YOUR OWN BOOZE IF YOU WANT ANYTHING OTHER THAN WINE.

And, I still got, "Can I bring anything?"

"ARRGH are you yanking my chain!? NO!"

Can you believe that you are enough? That your presence makes me happy? That there really is no expectation; no keeping score?

We're going to order in pizza. Have some wine, Coke, coffee and cookies - no fuss, no muss, just simple. The company will be the focus. What my invite really means is - JUST BRING YOURSELF; YOU ARE ENOUGH.

In order to make people feel welcome I'm threatening to body search everybody at the door. Yup, that should just about put the nail in the coffin. Please do not send flowers, thank you.

The 17 "R's" of Hypnosis

2011-01-18T15:42:00.003-05:00

The 17 "R's" of hypnosis are:

reflect
rapport
release
reveal
real
revise
relax
receptive
repetition
reinforce
recognize
reward
realize
restore
reclaim
refresh
re-energize

What compels one to try hypnosis or self-hypnosis is the desire for change. We REFLECT on our life and become aware that we want something to be different which leads to more reflection until we establish what specifically we want and perhaps how to get there.

How will my life be affected when I achieve my goal? As a hypnotist we talk about the importance of establishing RAPPORT with clients, a feeling that we are in sync with each other, that we speak the same language and most importantly that they feel safe entrusting me with their very deepest aspirations. But, rapport also has to be established between you and your goal. Can you believe that it is doable? What are some possible consequences that go along with achieving your goal - positive and negative? At that point imagine that you have reached your goal; feel into it. How does it feel? Are negative feelings blocking its achievement? Upon further investigation do the cons outweigh the pros in the long run?

As we work through this stage we RELEASE a lot of stuff that is no longer necessary: old outdated concepts about ourself, misconceptions and misinformation. Sometimes even the initial goal needs to be released and REVISED. I had one teacher who said that when people tell you what brings them to hypnosis they are lying. It is a shocking, but true statement. We think we know what our goals are, but through inquiry and investigation often a shift in awareness is made in which we REVEAL the REAL goal hereto fore unimagined which can be a profound, empowering and life-transforming event.

Once our goals are revised, through the hypnosis process we enlist the power of suggestion, a RELAXED RECEPTIVE REPETITION of statements that succinctly incorporate all that we desire. Though one doesn't have to be relaxed in order for hypnosis to work, it helps. A beneficial side-effect of the practice of self-hypnosis is that through repetition of positive visualizations one becomes more relaxed and more receptive to the implantation of the suggestion in the subconscious mind. Attaining our goals become easier.

We REINFORCE the suggestion each time we repeat it through self-hypnosis and each time its impact plays out in our life. As we RECOGNIZE each little success (and it is often the little successes along the way that build to the biggie) that in itself is part of the REWARD and since we are motivated by the rewards of this practice a self-perpetuating cycle is set in place as confidence is gained.

As each goal is REALIZED we RESTORE ourself to all that we can be and RECLAIM happiness and enjoyment of our life. Simply put we feel REFRESHED and RE-ENERGIZED.

And then it all begins anew.
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FOR MORE POSTS ON HYPNOSIS AND SELF-HYPNOSIS see: hypnosis and self-hypnosis

CHECK OUT DAILY TWEETS AT AWAKENING CHOICE HYPNOSIS

LILY PAD LION

2011-01-11T22:37:00.000-05:00

She knelt
as she gazed
into the glimmering pond
which had drawn her near
by its purring, lapping sound.

Just below its surface
she caught a glimpse of a green, lily pad.
Ripples of sound emanated
from its blurred form
beckoning her to peer deeper and deeper
into its centre.

As she did
two amber spheres took form,
a nose sniffed,
a mane tossed,
and a tufted tail swished.

A splash broke the eerie twilight;
a golden lion climbed onto the bank,
shook drops from its glowing coat
and padded away
with nary a backward glance.

And now throughout the jungle night
night birds sing,
crickets chirp,
and a glimmering pond laps and sobs.
___________________________________

This "poem" began as a doodle (since tossed out) of a green form that... became a lily pad, that... took on amber eyes... and then my imagination took off from there. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. It evokes, for me, the mysterious mood of a Henri Rousseau painting.

I wrote this for an English course in 1986.
It has been re-worked into the form you see here.
copyright Nance Thacker 2011

Face Book "Friend"

2011-01-08T23:27:00.002-05:00

The Dalai Lama Is a friend of mine.

Yes, you heard that right.

Actually, he's a Face Book "friend" of mine. I'm very selective as to who I allow to connect with me on FB. OK, he actually didn't ask me to be his friend but that's beside the point. Anyway...I don't play the numerous games that seem to have captured friends imaginations and I have become a FAN of exactly 2 things: Betty Blogger and Stories from the Yogic Heart. The former because it was part of a homework exercise for Betty Blogger's course and the latter because, even though my story is in it, it is a really inspiring book. I check out FB to see how my friends are doing and see the photos that they post.

It's so cool to go on to FB and see the Dalai Lama's lovely face smiling out at me announcing his entry. His latest entry was a timely one that appeared on Wed Jan 5th (entered at 5:25 in the morning no less; only THE Dalai Lama would be Face Booking at 5:25 a.m.) titled COUNTERING STRESS AND DEPRESSION. It was written on Dec 31/10 and published in the Hindustan Times, India, on Jan 3/11.

One of the many things about the article that gives me hope is his assertion that, "So long as we remember that we have this marvellous gift of human intelligence and a capacity to develop determination and use it in positive ways, we will preserve our underlying mental health."

He lost his freedom at 16, his country at 24 and has lived in exile for more than 50 years. Despite the heartbreaking news he hears from his homeland he still doesn't give up. What helps him is to cultivate the thought that (summarizing here):

If the situation/problem can be remedied there is no need to waste your energy in worry or letting yourself become overwhelmed by it, rather spend it on seeking its solution.
If there is no possibility for a solution or resolution; you can't do anything about it. "The sooner you accept this fact, the easier it will be for you."

But, before you can discern whether or not there is a resolution you have to:

confront the problem
take a realistic view

There is a famous quote that goes something like this "I've been through some really bad times in my life, a few of them actually happened." This comes to mind because more often than not it's not the actual event that causes pain but the stories we tell ourselves about it which create disturbing emotions, thoughts and mental events.

The first problem we need to confront is our compounding negative thought processes around the problem itself. Clearing the mental clutter around the problem allows for a clear, realistic view and enables us to confront the actual issue. We just have to:

Maya peeking out

keep on clearing out the negativities
while cultivating gratitude
and concern for others
and turn adversity into advantage

He believes that:

the mind can be transformed
we can overcome disturbing emotions
and achieve a sense of inner peace

Thanks so much to the Dalai Lama for this inspiring entry!

Namaste

Nance

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Mind Training in action

2011-01-06T18:25:00.003-05:00

Cartoon copyright Nance Thacker 1991.
Click on image to enlarge

I have done yoga since I was 16. I've lead and presently lead and teach classes and workshops in: relaxation, stress management, meditation and hypnosis. You'd think by now I'd be perfect...ha! This is definitely not the case as I have a particularly challenging mind and nervous system that seems drawn to bouts of depression and anxiety like a moth to a flame. And, this is precisely what makes me a good teacher. I know whereof I speak.

I observed the latest bout coming on through my TWEETS. It started subtly enough. A little awareness dawned on Dec 6th that my mind was becoming pretty busy with conflicting thoughts along with their attendant emotions. Envy followed around the 12th accompanied by that familiar feeling of self-loathing and the little voice that worms its way into my mind repeating variations on a theme: "you SHOULD: be better than you are, be more than you are, have accomplished more that you have". When these dominate I become lost in all of this S**T.

As I reclaim myself on the 14th and 15th I witness and become aware of worry, anger and other "negative" thoughts bubbling up and am able to catch the "inkling" before they develop further.

But somehow the scales tip and these negativities begin to take root, playing over and over. Samskaras (in western terms neural pathways) become entrenched in my brain; becoming my automatic default response to life. This vulnerable position ignites the "fight or flight response". I become spun, loose my centre, become hyper sensitive to the actions and emotions of my significant other and scramble in an effort to please others because I am so "beside myself" that I cannot please myself.

Without a centre no action "feels" authentic, my body, fuelled by the stress response, feels foreign. With no place to anchor me, action is without backbone, ineffective, inefficient; results are predictably erratic, unsatisfactory and sometimes chaotic and the world around me reflects my inner state.

In this state I am more susceptible to the judgements of others. In the heat of the moment tempers flare, arguments ensue, harsh words, that can never be taken back, are spoken. Arguments take on monumental proportions, consequences loom heavily in my mind as it goes into the deepest and darkest places as happened from the 19th to the 26th. Turbulent emotions rule and peak on the 28th when something commands me to STOP & BREATHE.

In that most charged of moments I connect with calm. This is magical effect of mind training in action.

With the calm comes awareness that it is time for me to pull out, stop being the witness. I know this territory well enough. Take charge of my mind, shift focus and consciously apply mind training.

By the 31st I still feel emotions coursing through my body but my yoga asana practice delivers awareness of the still pond that resides within and it now extends beyond my time on my mat.

It is timely that I start anew with the New Year in bringing my mind training skills into practice. I don't allow the negative tapes to run. Evening mantra practice, replaces the "inner critic" and settles me into the receptive hypnogogic state where implantation is optimal. Negative self-judgment is countered by logical inquiry or silent mantra practice. Yoga practice and walking keep energy flowing evenly and discharge daily accumulated tension. I set the alarm 45 minutes before I have to get up, time in which to briefly scan my dreams and then BLAST MYSELF WITH POSITIVE SUGGESTIONS over and over during this especially receptive hypnopompic state.

I know the bout will return again. But, I also know that the calm, quiet centre resides within, all I need to do is breathe and feel the peace and tranquility.

For the New Year I wish you find access to that calm, quiet centre within.

Treasures in the most unlikely of places

2011-01-03T22:22:00.001-05:00

As you can see, I was doing dishes the other day when suddenly I was moved to take this picture. I was doing the last bit of cleaning up the day after a great New Year's Eve shared with council members Glyn & Pam and their spouses. I was in a "good space" where all is right in the world; a moment of contentment. At that moment I realized how all these things I was washing give me great pleasure not only to look at but for the memories they hold.

We filled the crystal wine glasses, from my parents' collection, with champagne which we used to toast in the New Year. In my parents' day it was Sherry but no matter. A few Christmases ago Rod and my Christmas gift to each other was this set of colourful plates to make our settings cheerful and fun. The white one tucked in behind we bought as a one off in Yorkville a few years prior, again a Christmas purchase. It was pricy, needs to be hand washed but is a lovely plate for presentation of treats. The blue-green bowl reminds me of earthy things and I purchased at the One of a Kind in Dec - a memento of a fabulous time had by Di and myself.

The little ceramic pot beside it, Rod and I found in the pottery section of the craft marketplace silo in St Jacobs when we were first together. I like to mix spices, smell them and adjust them in the little pot before throwing them in the cooking pot as my Indian house-mate Jaya did when teaching me how to make curry during my university days. Tucked in front of it is a less showy but equally serviceable stainless steel cup that I also use for that purpose which reminds me of my many restaurant stints, especially my time at Jasper Park Lodge.

On the edge of the sink is the basket for my coffee maker. I just got it about 2 years ago and it comes out whenever friends come to visit. Before this I'd take everyones order and enlist a guest to go for a coffee run with me to the Tim's on the corner. 3 stones plucked from the shores of Lake Huron are nestled into the corner reminding me of the power of mindfulness, love, healing, council friends and Florence's place up north.

The ladle, from One of a Kind years back, reminds me of many wonderful outings I've had with friends. It hangs along with other fine serviceable pieces from the same artisan, creating an ever changing glistening piece of wall art when not in use and shows up especially beautifully against the tile on the wall; a work in progress. Rod and I picked them up a few weeks ago and he got only so far before the holiday celebrations began. A contractor's place is often in various stages of completion. I'm told tomorrow will be the day work resumes. I love the subtle multi-colours in the stone.

We don't have a lot of "stuff" but I'm fortunate that all of these things continue to give me great pleasure and I am grateful to have not only them, but the memories and messages they contain.

It's a simple thing, but sometimes simple is fantastic!

Xmas Xhale

2010-12-30T19:49:00.001-05:00

Our Christmas tree has a heart.
Flippy is happy with her gift
of crinkly paper.

Christmas is over (yeah). I'm not a Christmas person. And every year I experience self-judgment and intense social angst around this flaw in my nature. The closer we get to the actual day the higher my tension levels rise. Shouldn't we all be Christmas people? What's wrong with me? Did I have a past trauma around Christmas?

In an effort to get into the Christmas spirit I vowed I'd get my Christmas cards snail-mailed by Dec 1st. On the 23rd those who remained on my list were getting the more familiar "I hope you had a great Christmas and that NEW YEARS IS FANTASTIC!"

Since December the first, in an effort to amp up the joy, I tuned the car radio to a 24/7 all Xmas music all the time station; blasting myself with Christmas songs on the radio. Are there only 25 Christmas songs in the whole world? The result: I drove around aimlessly in a deja vu induced Xmas stupor.

I truly enjoyed the Christmas light displays adorning neighbourhood homes. And though I'd set an intention to decorate ours a week before THE DAY, the 24th found Rod and I working together to drape our eves in multi-coloured lights to provide one of 2 displays on the darkened side of our street. Meanwhile, neighbours across the road flooded their side of the street with so much Christmas illumination that you could land a 747 on the road; tt's like looking into a solar flare, sunglasses are recommended during the wee small hours of the night. Christmas keeners all, they invited deer and elves to play on their lawns. Stars, wreaths and strings upon strings replaced Halloween's ghosts, spider webs and pumpkins the day after Halloween.

Rod and I (child-free) are extremely fortunate to have gracious friends and family who invite us to take part in their celebrations every year. They too have celebrated in our home. But logistics have changed, children now grown have formed bonds of their own. What would our Christmas be like? We wondered. And so, for the first time, we decided to find out.

As we declined invitations, "Was it something we've done?" "You're not going weird on us? Are you?" were some of the unexpected concerns that would not have come up had we told friends and family that we were going away for the holidays. We wanted peaceful time in our own home — a place that normally is shared by clients, and projects. How does one explain, "We just want to jump off the speeding freight train that Christmas has become and experience different ground?"

For the first time ever, we slept in on Christmas morning. In the afternoon we visited Mom at the nursing home. The parking lot was full. Other families visited their loved ones making for a delightfully upbeat experience. Mom loved listening to conversations, watching toddlers, kids and dogs bringing new life to the place. That night Rod and I cooked, shared a lovely candle lit dinner and cleaned up together as Christmas music played in the background. Rod had found a music station on the TV that played seasonal songs I'd never heard before.

And now we are in my most favourite time of the year...the time between Christmas and New Year! There should be a name for it something like CHRISTMAS IS OVER; EVERYBODY EXHALE!

And have a HAPPY NEW YEAR ALL!!!

KITTY CAM

2010-12-20T22:18:00.001-05:00

Here at 5305 it's all kitties all the time.

I have gotten a new camera and of course it's full of cats!

Flip doesn't care that her butt is falling off.
She slept like this on this bag full of fabric for a few hours.

Maya has to try it out of course.
Flip chooses a freshly laundered kitty blankie full of catnip
- note the contented look on her face!

A study in black and white.
They love this couch!

Find the black kittie on the couch.
When her eyes are closed you can barely see her.
You have to be careful when you sit down.

It'll take a while for me to get the hang of this camera; I'd just felt comfortable with the old one when it chose to go kaphlooey. It was cheaper to buy a new one than fix the old one, of course. But, I love its portability... and it takes video too.

Lots more fun to be had exploring this new stuff. Youtube watch out!

Sweet Tweets

2010-12-16T00:15:00.004-05:00

I have discovered the world of TWITTER and, surprisingly, I have discovered that I enjoy TWEETING. I like the economy of trying to get my point across in 144 characters or less. Being a lover of micro-fiction (you may recall my READERS' DIGEST REJECTS series) you can see why it would appeal to me.

The question TWITTER asks is, "What is happening?" Well, frankly I can't see anyone being interested in what I'm doing as I'm an average gal doing what most of us are doing most of the time. Who needs more of that? I've found instead that I tweet from the perspective of the observer regarding meditations, realizations experiences and challenges of the moment. I guess I could call it a mind tweet as I comment on thoughts, spiritual and philosophical inquiry, reflections and expression.

They are a little cryptic, that's for sure as my sister-in-law asked me (on FaceBook) what I was so angry about today and I had to explain that I, in fact, wasn't angry but was exploring anger.

Because, you see, today I tweeted about anger. My goal was not to be angry for today. And, as all meditators know, when that is your goal what arises is awareness of the beginnings of anger. I'm not talking about full fledged pissed-offedness (wow I didn't know that pissed-offedness was a word, spell check accepted it...) but the minor little nigglings, inklings or signs of irritation, feeling pressured, rushed or, my special tell tale signs of frustration (a first stage of anger for me): beginning to speed up in action, thought or speech.

That moment in which I catch the "inklings" provides the distance needed to detach and then choose to let it go. And so what is meant to be a transitory flashing off of thought or emotion becomes just that as I watch it arise, label it and let it go, leaving a clean slate behind.

To see what I'm writing about check out my TWITTER site at AwakeningChoice

Fashion Statements

2010-12-09T13:46:00.000-05:00

Do you know someone who can go out: without makeup, wearing sweats, torn sneakers and unwashed hair tucked into a touque and still look fabulous? Well, I do. This is one of life's gentle ways of giving you a head's up that life isn't fair.

Have you ever noticed someone with: hair and makeup done to perfection; blood red, salon groomed, nails glistening in the sun; wearing her "Sunday" best in clothes and bearing; plonked down in the middle of the Hamilton bus station (circa '75) who didn't look out of place? Well, I did. I almost felt compelled to give her bus fare.

I went to the One of a Kind Show and Sale last week with Di. She took pics of us on her cel phone. Infinitesimally, it looked fine; posted it on FaceBook, holy crap, I look like...I dunno what I look like. And don't go wandering over there to see, just take my word for it, I didn't look as fabulous as I felt.

That picture challenges my belief that it is better to feel good than to look good. Billy Crystal channeling Fernando Lamas would disagree as well...

By the way, you look MARVELOUS darlings.
HAVE YOURSELVES A MARVELOUS DAY!

TO BE OR NOT TO BE

2010-12-05T01:26:00.001-05:00

A friend agitatedly blurted out that she had difficulty with the concept of "choice". I realized that I had used the word "choice" quite a bit during our conversation. Obviously since the word is included in the name of my hypnosis business AWAKENING CHOICE (which is also the name of this blog), the concept of choice is a biggie for me.

Though she expressed a desire to change her life, my friend was depressed, stuck, lacking in the energy and motivation needed to initiate action of any kind in order to change her situation. Though our situations differ, I too have felt like her; probably many of you have too. Energy suckers such as (and please feel free to add your personal faves): inertia, self-doubt, regret or longing for the past, holding on to past dramas or traumas, fear or a sense of hopelessness about the future, clinging to labels assigned to one's self by self or others, peer pressure to remain within defined confines, what will others think, who do you think you are, leave one feeling like a powerless victim.

When we have been a "victim" of a crime or a vicious act the responses listed above are amplified, seem insurmountable and the challenges appear far greater. The reality is that the human spirit is resilient. We've all witnessed inspiring examples of resilience. If one person can rise above such a situation so can we all. We have the capacity to heal ourselves and our relationships. Living in a human body subjects us to challenges, illness and loss during our life and guarantees that we will die but suffering is optional — just ask the Dali Lama.

What she couldn't see is that we make choices (consciously or unconsciously) every second of every day. When we say that we don't have choice we're really saying that we aren't conscious of the act of choosing, because we actually are choosing at every moment. Don't believe me? You are right now choosing whether to continue reading this post or to do something else.

When we become more consciously aware of our thoughts, feelings, emotions, beliefs, and sensations we are living in the present moment and the presence of choice becomes more evident. In this moment there is no past, no her/his story; in this moment there is no future. Without our story, life is full of potential.

When I begin to realize that I have the resources within me to enable me to choose a different action, feeling or belief, no matter how small, that opens up unforeseen possibilities and sets the stage for transformation. The moment I exercise that option it is like a droplet sending ripples through the stagnant pond which my life has become. These ripples become waves of change in relationship within and ultimately between me and the people and world in which I live. This reality can be pretty daunting and can stall me before I begin. It may feel easier to stay in the status quo, after all what choice do I have?

In accepting the concept of choice I take responsibility for my actions, their consequences and my life.
Each time I consciously exercise my ability to choose I am actively participating and engaged in life. I become energized. Struggles become transformed into challenges. I recapture my love of life, see it as precious and realize that I am entitled to be happy and enjoy it; and gratitude flows.

For me the ultimate belief about choice is that we are all in this together, a consciousness evolving that has chosen to experience this earthly existence through many, many lives and lifetimes. We are all one.

Singers have more fun

2010-12-02T18:21:00.000-05:00

When I sing I sound like a cat wailing. People react to my voice the same way they do to nails being scratched down a chalkboard which is very sad because I love to sing! It's worse at Christmas because while everyone else is Caroling their hearts out in public, I'm looking for a rock to crawl under knowing that I'm going to be expected to join in or be labelled an up-tight scrooge. I am anything but uptight.

People who can sing try to cajole me with, "What's the matter with you? The cat got your tongue?" Then comes the encouragement phase, "Oh, come on, you can't be that bad" which declines into the guilting phase, "everyone else is having fun. Don't be a spoil sport." So, just to shut them up, I oblige and if pained expressions were flash bulbs going off I would be blinded. Fortunately for all involved, it only takes a bar or two for the reality of my vocal inability to register and I return, without protest, to mute mode once more.

I love to sing. Fortunately I love to drive. That is where I do my best and most harmless singing — alone, locked in a vehicle, speeding down the freeway. Me and a bazillion others.

Next time around, when talent is being portioned out (I'm putting my order in, in advance) I would love to have a beautiful voice. People who sing well have appreciation showered upon them. Before they've opened their mouth to speak or done anything character revealing, it's assumed that beautiful singers, by the very nature of their pipes, are nice and good people. We assume the same about beautiful looking people too (so I guess I'll add physical beauty to that request as well, thanks).

And, I think that singers have more fun. Doubt this? Watch this video.

See, fun, right! And...they get applause too, how cool is that!

I love this stuff. Yet there are flash mobs of talented people writing in public all the time and what do we get...ignored.

Singers definitely have more fun!

PS in case you didn't notice, this is the CHRISTMAS blog post I promised you a while ago.
And I can now say MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Poem for a young girl

2010-11-26T16:26:00.000-05:00

She loved to sing.
But, her voice was a thing
Off key and flat.
So, she wouldn't do that!

For joy she'd dance,
Til she saw people glance
In an envious, sour way.
"What's there to dance about?" they would say.
Though it wasn't a sin,
She'd keep her urge to dance within.

She dreamed she'd draw.
But, soon she saw
She was no Da Vinci, Raphael
Nor O'Keefe neither.
Then, just as well
She wouldn't do that either.

She hoped to write.
But all day and all night
Not a thought would come into her head.
T'was as if she were dead.

So she wanted to cry.
But, her heart was so dry
That she curled up so small
Til nothing at all
Was left of her.

Without her will
The world stood still.
And all was doom
All was gloom.
Black
For the lack
Of hopes, dreams, joy and love.

She seemed forever
Lost in this land of never
Where no songs were sung,
No dances danced,
No colours seen,
Nor thoughts expressed.

But what few people know
Deep down there's a glow
Deep within
Where Black is thin
Is buried an ember
That can remember
Hopes, dreams, joy and love.

Gradually the ember stirred
The Black blurred
Out Light spilled
A heart it filled

The light grew stronger
And brighter
Eventually spilling
Into the form of a young girl
Eyes welling
With tears that fell, soothing
Her spirit and clearing her mind
Because in her heart
Hope, dreams, joy, and love were entwined.

Now always she sings
In a voice that still rings
Off key and flat
But, she doesn't care about that.

And, when she dances
She notices glances
Joyous as well as sour
Some are just meant to be dour.

She'll draw and paint
So what! A master she aint
Her work's unique
Not
At its peak.

Now her writing flows
Cus, in her heart she knows
In doing these things that are part of her
Doesn't matter what others think of her
The expression's the thing
Makes her free spirit sing
Sweet, clear and true
And,
That's
Just
What
She
...
Loves to do.

Poem copyright Nance Thacker 2010.
Cartoon copyright Nance Thacker 1985.

Yoga with animals

2010-11-21T17:44:00.000-05:00

cartoon copyright Nance Thacker 19984
click on image to enlarge

They don't call it downward dog and upward dog for nothing.

Post notification

2010-11-20T00:41:00.005-05:00

Warning: this post may contain some material that is offensive to readers - you have been forewarned.

I am writing this post to let you know that I have written a post which won't be published until Dec 1st as it contains a Christmas Carol. I refuse to listen willingly to Christmas Carols until December.

This is my personal stand against PCC (Premature Christmas Celebration) which begins once Halloween is over and leaves one too mind-numbed to enjoy the climax of the season at the appropriate moment.

Actually, by writing about Christmas I may be contributing to that which I protest so strongly against, but I just wanted to let you know that a lovely Christmas post is coming DEC 1st.

It'll be worth the wait!

A simple yoga life

2010-11-17T00:32:00.001-05:00

Yoga can be done almost anywhere. I have done my yoga practice:

in a crowded family room at my family's home while everyone was watching TV
in a relatively secluded corner in the airports departures lounge
in my Dad's hospital room during my "Dad watch" stint
on campsites throughout the country
on the beach at Jan's sister's cottage

My in-laws' spare bedroom
used for storage
They kindly cleared a space for my practice
when we were in Campbell River

I have not done yoga in India.

Yoga can be done almost any time of the day. I have done it at almost all hours of the day and night. Spring prompts me to do earlier practices; winter lures me into midnight ones.

I haven't done yoga earlier than 6 a.m.

Yoga can be done alone or in the company of others. I have done my practice with:

Flip helping me in Virasana
She does a fabulous abdominal massage
when I'm in Supta Virasana
(Reclined Hero pose)

my pets crowded around the mat
friends' little children participating with me, most notably Sarah and downward dog all those years ago
my brother heckling me

I haven't done yoga posing in front of an elephant nor balancing on perilous precipices.

I have done yoga wearing:

nothing at all (in the privacy of my own home)
a bathing suit
yoga wear
jeans and a sweater

I prefer to do yoga in my PJ's.

Wireless Wizard

2010-11-15T01:01:00.000-05:00

It's only taken me a little over a week. But, I've finally done it! I have finally connected my... rather I should say - Rod's - Kindle, to the wireless.

The Kindle was a birthday gift that I purchased and gave to him well before his birthday, which is on the 16th of this month, because in all our 24 years together, I've never seen him soooo excited about any material item.

I bought it from the Kindle store online and it came the very next day (no need for express delivery).

I left the package, with a bright orange sticky note attached saying, "Whatever can this be?" on the steps leading upstairs so that he would see it as soon as he got in the front door that night. The excitement in the air was as thick as a 3year old's Christmas morning. "Thanks for my birthday present!" he said as he squeezed me tight and then the totally thrilled birthday boy bounded up the stairs to play with his new toy.

I got him exactly what he wished for; my gift-giving experience was truly joyful and I shouted back with a huge smile of utter satisfaction spread from ear to ear "you're welcome!"

A few hours later I went upstairs expecting to find him caught up in Kindle magic. Instead I found a grumpy guy aimlessly surfing the net; his new toy unceremoniously dumped into its delivery box.

He couldn't get it to connect to the wireless.

The letdown was as drastic as a 3 year-old finding his Christmas toy doesn't come with batteries and all the stores are closed.

"I'm not going to spend hours trying to set this thing up. It's not worth it. Send it back. And, if you don't I will. I don't have time for this s**t." He threw up his hands and glared at the tiny perfect object with disgust.

Through gritted teeth I replied in calm, measured tones, all the while counting to 10, "It's your birthday gift from me. I'm not sending it back. We'll get it to work, other people do. I'll handle it." As I stomped out of the room, I added, "Happy Birthday!"

We didn't talk much that night.

And, for the next few days he greeted me with, "Got that Kindle running, yet? How's it going? (referring to the Kindle)" all accompanied by a knowing smirk, so sure was he that I wouldn't succeed. He passed newly discovered numbers, letters and codes to routers, computers and modems scrawled on colourful sticky notes down to me as I worked in my office at the bottom of the stairs. He was attempting to speed the process along yet he was enjoying the fact that numerous hours of my life (not his) were being invested in this project.

"Nuts to this, from now on you're not getting any birthday gifts until your actual birthday." I took the Kindle out of his den and hid it so that it wouldn't tease him and he wouldn't taunt me any further.

It worked. He hasn't uttered a word about it since and it my work progressed without further input.

And after all my dead end searches, last Friday it took less than 5 minutes to get it connected after a phone consultation with an I T guy; referred to by a friend.

I begged him to just come over and help me set it up; better yet, set it up and let me watch, ask questions and make notes. But to my dismay he would have none of it. I couldn't get him to leave his office. However, acting like a translator of sorts he was able to "dumb down" his techno speak, tell me which questions needed to be answered in a stepwise manner, and ran me through the steps to reconfiguring ones' router and network.

What a difference it makes when you speak the language!

I left a message on his answering machine later that afternoon squealing with delight, "Oh my God I got it to work. I can't believe it. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." I may not be "King of the World" but I am a Wireless Wizard. Yessss!

...and landing

2010-11-12T00:10:00.000-05:00

I left us hanging in JUST DROPPING IN, so I think I should come down now as the blood's kind of pooled in my head.

My first word of caution to any who practice this form of yoga is to gradually extend the time you hang from the pelvic swing. Think about it, the ligaments and tendons (which are less elastic than muscles) have a totally different orientation to gravity's pull in this inversion. One's head, which weighs in at approximately 8 lbs., provides great traction; adding to the stress placed upon the spine and joints. In terms of structural engineering alone, hanging upside-down demands respect.

Come down with control and come up to full standing position gradually.

I do this by bringing my feet onto the floor in front of me and going into downward dog. This allows the body and circulation to adjust to the change in position. Like decompressing after a deep dive, you don't want to stand up too quickly. The cool thing is that downward dog takes a whole new lightness afterwards and it is, dare I say it of one of the most oft repeated and dreaded of yoga poses, a delicious experience.

the dreaded DOWNWARD DOG
actually feels lighter after the inversion
enjoy the sense of length attained from the traction

A standing forward bend further takes advantage of the new, easy, length of my spine.

I stand with my heel supported in the rope for a while to align before bending forwards. I press my foot into the wall, anchor the other into the floor while internally rotating the thighs and extend out the crown of my head towards the wall. By shooting my arms outwards into the ropes I am able to use my core to maintain the position through the completion of a circuit of energy created between feet, arms and head rather than by the application of force or pulling. I do the right leg first, moving through the breath to deepen the pose while counting the breaths. I then follow with the left for an equal amount of breaths.

radiate the energy from the centre of the body outward to the extremities
like a star shining

The use of even inhaled and exhaled breaths is a natural and organic way for me to work. Working with a timer takes me out of the pose makes me think, oh God how much longer do I have to do this keeping me focused on the end rather than on the process.

surrender to the forward bend
radiating outward the whole time

Taking further advantage of the easy length of the spine, I then do a twist to the right followed by a brief forward bend over the extended leg and repeat on the left side. To rotate, first one must lengthen the spine and create space between the vertebrae. Pressing into the wall and floor through the feet, internally rotating the thighs — which feels like scissoring them — provides stability to the pelvis and allows for internal movement through the pelvic and abdominal cavities. Draw the belly towards the point on the back of the body where the back of the hand contacts it; extend the hand beyond the fingers of the outstretched hand while opening up the delto-pectoral groove. Mula and uddiyana bandha can be applied throughout.

stand tall and collected
spiralling around the central axis

A spiralling of energy can be imagined, if not felt, winding around the spine. This action actually originates at the feet and continues through the torso and gently through the neck (be careful not to let the gaze of eyes place too much emphasis on the turning of the neck by drawing the ribs towards the centre line and elevating the upper sternum and outwards under the collar bones) all the way beyond the top of the head. I always like to maintain the twist for a few more breaths with the head turned to gaze forward before I release the twist; I feel so Regal as I perform this complementary action.

One last forward bend and...

There, I feel much better now!

My next challenge is not a yoga one but a tekkie one; to do a You Tube video of this so you can see it in action. Actually that means my next challenge is a consumer one; to get a camcorder/camera as my camera went on the fritz towards the end of our trip out west.

This is kind of a cliff hanger, isn't it? The video is the least of my problems; it's the shopping that I dread. Hanging upside down, learning tekkie stuff I can handle. Shopping, ugh — that's a real challenge for me.

Keep posted to the same bat channel.

CAR, BALL, MAN

2010-11-09T00:53:00.001-05:00

I'm warning you now.

Read the words in the title and commit them to memory because somewhere down the road, maybe 20, 30, 40 or perhaps 50 years from now, you will be sitting across a table from someone who, almost immediately, upon meeting you, will tell you to remember those 3 little words. You will feel nervous, confused, insulted, patronized and perhaps experience something akin to "performance anxiety" as they then proceed to run you through various mental challenges. About 5 minutes after you are stirred up enough they will then ask you what the words were that they gave you to remember. And despite the increased intensity of emotion, self-doubt and confusion the words will bubble up from your long term memory and you will be able to say calmly, "car, ball, man". The thing is they will assume that these words are new to you and that you have stored them in your short term memory and you will have passed this portion of the test.

Just giving you a heads up.

OK, it might not play out exactly like this but after hearing those words first repeated in 1998 and every year thereafter at each of my parents' cognitive assessment evaluations, I can assure you that they are etched in my brain. Every time I accompanied my folks for "their" assessment all I could think was, please don't change the 3 words because I am so primed to remember them that they will block out any new incoming ones. I bet ya that almost everyone who's accompanied their parent or loved one to a geriatric assessment from this particular team has these three words burned into their brains too.

This all leads me to these observations about memory retention.

When trying to remember something state it - short, simple and to the point. Let's say I have to remember a grocery list consisting of: milk, bread and cheese. There is no need for me to say, "remember to get milk, bread and cheese". Because I am anxious about my ability to remember, using the word "remember" (in this context) triggers my belief that I have a bad memory and that I'm going to have difficulty remembering. Feeling that I won't be able to remember the list; I become anxious.

ANXIETY IS A MEMORY KILLER!

To embed this kind of memory it is best to feel relaxed and happy. So:

My memory prompt is SIMPLE: "milk, bread, cheese".
I REPEAT these words at least 3 times while tapping my watch (Since I am inclined to look at my watch numerous times before going to the store, each time I do it is a visual prompt for memory. In hypnosis we call this anchoring).
Each time, while repeating and tapping I VISUALIZE: the items (perhaps getting really specific about the images) and me picking up the items and paying for them at the checkout (this takes only a few seconds).
And, I FEEL how good it feels to have accomplished the task.

Now I just have to remember where I parked my car!

The key for this - I have to be MINDFUL of parking it in the first place. I liken it to getting out of "passenger" mode. It is less likely that, as a passenger, I will remember where the car was parked because I tend to rely on the driver to do this. So I have to shift to "driver" mode and note my surroundings. Since I can be an easily distractible, multi-tasker, mindfulness is something I have to come back to constantly. I call this "applied meditation" practice.

Since, in the scenario I have just described, I have a vested interest in the things I want to remember I am more motivated to recall these things. In the case of my grocery list - these items will allow me to make a meal and that makes me feel good. And since I'd rather not wait til the parking lot is sufficiently emptied before I can find my car I'm highly motivated to take note where it was parked in the first place.

In contrast, "car, ball, man" meant nothing to my poor parents who were full of anxiety at the time of their assessment. And, when the time comes, it will mean nothing to you too. So practice those 3 words now.

There will be a test!

COMMENT ON THE CARTOON. I'm not proud to admit this but, unlike some people, I will pick out the longest line at the checkout so that I can browse the "brain candy" mags. And I often memorize where I left off for the next visit to the grocery store.

CARTOON BREAK

2010-11-06T23:12:00.001-04:00

While I'm busy trying to put together a blogpost on memory, please enjoy this cartoon...

It came to me when I was reading an article about a 86 year-old woman who went skydiving for the first time. She figured she had nothing to lose. Which made me think that I might like to go skydiving myself when I reach 86, not right now cus I'm afraid that the chute won't open but, at that age... well why not? And then Dotti's voice came into my head and a cartoon was born.

I love how the subconscious plays with my brain!

No "ums"

2010-11-02T00:08:00.001-04:00

The night before leaving for beautiful Vancouver Island I was sitting cross-legged on a stool at CJ's Cafe in Burlington, reciting my poem ODE TO A YO-GI. This was no small feat and I'm not talking about my precarious perch - that's a piece of cake (I'm sitting this way on a stool as I write my blog). I'm talking about public speaking.

In public school every year from about grade 5 to 8 we had to write and give a 5 minute speech. My older sister excelled at this task and the unspoken expectation from my teachers was that I would too. But this wasn't the case. Being shy, short and feeling out of place in my pleated skirt that hiked geezer-like above my waist and knee socks that rolled down at my ankles, I decided to stand behind the lectern. As I spoke, for what was at that time the longest 5 minutes in my life, soft sounds of someone counting in the background could be heard.

"25...26...27..."

My teacher grinned all the while I must be doing pretty good. And at the end he applauded... and then broke into gales of laughter. "That was the funniest thing I've ever heard". (My topic, an informative presentation on Mario Lanza, my Dad's favourite singer of the moment, was, I assure you very earnest and without any hint of humour.) "You said 105 um's (he looked at the boy who was counting them for confirmation) in a 5 minute speech. Not only that, we couldn't even see you."

I was mortified, I'm NEVER doing this s**t again I vowed as slunk back to my front row seat.

I was told, in high school by my English teacher to stop talking once, "I find your voice extremely irritating" was all he said. I shut up for the remainder of the school year.

This from people in a position who should know better!
It's enough to give someone a complex.

Yet here I am, someone who's been a yoga teacher for the past 34 years; a hypnotist for 3. Somewhere along the line I was able to let these experiences go. Amazingly to me, people ask me to record hypnosis sessions for their use and often I've been told that guided relaxation is the favourite part of a yoga class...because of my voice.

It wasn't a conscious thing, it just happened.

When I found myself sitting under the glare of the spotlight that night a brief shiver of foreboding, remembrance ran down my spine. But, I had practiced for this moment over and over in my mind as I drove the car, went to sleep, showered; I spoke it aloud to establish points of emphasis; I imagined sitting in front of a hushed crowd listening to my flawless recitation. All pure SELF-HYPNOSIS 101 techniques for conquering stage fright.

What I didn't account for was laughter (this time welcomed) nor for the cloak of darkness the spotlight illuminating me, cast over the crowd, cocooning me and lending the moment an unexpected feeling of intimacy.

Best of all, there were no "ums" in my recitation of the poem nor in the other selections that I read that night and no one counted in the background.

Thanks Brian and CJ for the opportunity to give it another shot after all these years.

* * *

BRIAN POSTED ODE TO A YO-GI (and added some nice pics) IN HIS BLOG QUICK BROWN FOX

CANADIAN ICONS - "the bun" and Gordon

2010-10-28T00:15:00.003-04:00

I LOVE THIS!!!

In my post REALITY CHECK (click to read, I'll wait)...

I wrote about ageing, Justin Bieber aka "the bun" (yes the sweater in the picture is that old) and his memoir, and ended the post with, "I'm waiting for his memoirs. I hear their coming out next week. That should be exciting!"

Look at this - THE FOLKS AT 22 MINUTES HAD THAT SAME RESPONSE AS I TO THE ANNOUNCEMENT THAT JUSTIN BIEBER WAS PUBLISHING HIS MEMOIRS and THEY GOT CANADA'S OWN GORDON PINSENT TO DO THE READING.

The concept alone cracks me up. Watch it for a laugh. It's hysterical!

PINING FOR THE ISLAND

2010-10-22T13:53:00.000-04:00

I have been back to Ontario since Oct 5th and I must admit I'm pining for the island. Though the lake, which I am so fortunate to live near, is beautiful, I find myself looking for signs of life: a spray of water of a whale cruising through the straight, the barking of the sea lions basking in the sun, the curious gaze of playful seals checking me out at dockside, the opportunistic bald eagles keeping watch at Seymour Narrows for fish that have been churned up to the surface by the furious waters, the drama of the seals and salmon as they fight for life at Miracle Beach and the comings and goings of seaplanes, barges, fishing boats, sea taxi's and zodiacs.

Curious seal at the float homes in Victoria

Lake Ontario, in comparison, is my meditative place even in stormy weather and I have yet to slip into the closure that fall brings. I have been to the lake only once since my return probably because of this. Part of me wants to keep the activity alive, but I know that that's not possible. It is the nature of nature to change and I resist it every year.

on our hike to Elk falls

Only this year I look outside myself, beyond the lake for mountains covered in coniferous green in the distance as far as the eye can see assuring me that only wild things live there. But, to the immediate south the lake dips into the horizon, the lights from the distant Niagara region to the south-west glimmer at night and the CN tower is a beacon signifying the density of Toronto in the south-east, growing by the minute; its buildings reach up to the sky. And, I do not look to the north as I know miles and miles of suburbia with its groomed lands, strip malls, shopping centres, and other man-made distractions separate me from any sign of wild things.

And, though this brilliant autumn has been blessing and dazzling us with splashes of luminous oranges, yellows, reds and golds, I am immune to its charms. The proliferation of deciduous trees that makes this season so stunning is exactly that which creates the skeletal, barren canvas of winter hibernation to come.

And as we head into the time of inner reflection and reckoning I wonder what transformations will occur before we burst forth into the renewal of spring.

The one small consolation that in about 20 months I will be return to the home of my heart and spirit serves as a beacon to warm the cold winter months to come.

view from Mount Washington

THANK YOU VANCOUVER ISLAND... see you in the summer of 2012

Birdie, Birdies

2010-10-17T13:46:00.000-04:00

This picture has been in my head for days now, calling to be posted. One sunny day while walking in Victoria's Beacon Hill Park I came across this scene that just demanded I take pic.

Which got me thinking about this cartoon that I had drawn after watching people feeding the pigeons.

Now, the guy in the photo wasn't feeding the ducks. They just seemed to be enjoying his company and I could see that the feeling was mutual which is what made it so sweet.

Just dropping in

2010-10-15T00:18:00.002-04:00

Last weekend while working on handstand during a yoga workshop I enjoyed playing with balancing and attempting to extend my ability to maintain the inverted position. Handstand brings such a fresh and lively perspective to my body and brings out the kid in me. I love the dynamic interplay of:

the 3 3rds of the body - the legs/pelvis, the core and the shoulder/arm regions
the skin, the muscles and the structure of the bones
the bandhas and the breath
the hands and fingers; the feet and toes

Working with my toes to get a good contact

Once toes are established I begin to slowly and with control descend to the floor
reaching really, really strongly through my arms
getting my fingers and hands in place
gathering skin to muscle, muscle to bone
and feeling the rope with my toes

Contact made, I begin to play with balance
notice how my feet are drawing back
I push my hands into the floor, firm up the core
and bring my feet forwards
Dynamic interplay back and forth as
balance is attained

just another view
toe bones touch and legs work together as one

Bear in mind that I am proficient in balancing in the centre of the room for brief periods of time and descending into handstand from the ropes enables me to have the benefit of subtle support and feedback provided by the grip of my toes on the ropes and the padding at my back body. I am in no danger of falling backwards as I am able to come out by bringing my legs down in front of me with control.

My core is strong enough that with the benefit of: mula and uddyana bandha; even, focused and controlled breathing, I can draw the floating ribs and the ASIS (anterior superior iliac spine) towards each other, filling out T12 and creating lift and lightness in the pose.

As I descend my fingers are spread and the contact of my hands are slightly clawed (this is an old gymnastics technique) so that the finger tip pads, the base of the fingers and the heels of the hands provide a solid base from which ample feedback to and from the rest of the body is exchanged thus enabling the subtle movements required for balance to take place. The fingers and the muscles in the arms communicate with each other as do the toes and leg muscles.

From gymnastics I know that the more you "push" into the floor, the more lift you get. So, pushing into the floor drives awareness into the core/T12 and through it into the legs and feet. Conversely filling out T12 enables the hands to drive into the earth as the legs shoot upwards to the heavens. Activating the legs and feet reflexively activates the arms and hands and vice versa. The skin draws into the muscle and the muscle into the bone; I feel tall, long and lean (though I am none of these things) and it feels exactly like diving from a 3 metre board (I used to dive in university). Ahhh, what a lovely feeling!

Unfortunately it is almost impossible to write about the work without dissecting what is really a dynamic, organic interplay of actions allowing the pose to take full flight.

For more on yoga with ropes check In the Bat Room and Just Hanging Out

an A-1 farewell to Vancouver Island

2010-10-09T12:12:00.008-04:00

It was with great sadness but with a very satisfied and full stomach that I left Vancouver Island this past Tuesday. So what better way to end my tour than with a taste of culinary delights courtesy of the island and some of the fantastic restaurants I enjoyed.

THE BEST CHEESCAKE IN THE WORLD
At where else? My fave restaurant PAGGLIACCI'S in Victoria.
Melt in your mouth delicious!
The portions are much, much larger than I remembered — share it with a friend

On Sat Sept 18th my craving for a cheesecake fix could be controlled no longer so I trekked down to Pagg's. I took some pics of the outside and when I tried to open the door, it was locked. LOCKED! I pulled on the door like a person possessed, I pressed my face to the window in hopes someone was inside and had made a horrible mistake, but no. As I stepped back in disbelief and horror I noticed the sign on the door CLOSED FOR YOM KIPPUR. Duh! I was staying with a Jewish friend, had even enlisted to help out for the evening's celebration but somehow this one detail had skipped my mind, such is the power of this cheesecake.

I walked the street unconsolable until I passed by the gem you see in the pic below, the DUTCH BAKERY & COFFEE SHOP. When I landed in Victoria 34 years ago I stayed at THE RITZ. No, not the Ritz Carlton but a seedy dive on Fort St. Its only saving grace was that it was next door to the Dutch Bakery. What a find that was for me! It's homey atmosphere was so welcoming; their fantastic, reasonably priced, freshly made sandwiches and yummy baked goods so consoling — which is still the case today. My day was saved as I left the shop lighter in spirit with comfort food cookies in hand to shore me up for the evening festivities to come. Read a little bit about this lovely spot here

The next Monday night, still full from cheesecake, Rod and I and our host headed off to PIZZERIA PRIMASTRADA in the Fairfield neighbourhood and split Marinara and Funghi pizzas between us. OMG... to die for! The crust is heavenly and the flavours so subtle and savoury as to make a pizza a mystical experience for the taste buds.
On our way up island the next day, Rod and I stopped in at THE PIER BISTRO in Sydney B.C. (HI MARLENE). Rod was hungry but all I had in mind was toast (of which there was none at that hour of the day) and coffee. So I settled for coffee and agreed to munch on whatever Rod ordered. He had a seafood chowder and crab cakes. Well, fortunately for him the meal came with 2 of the most perfect, savoury crab cakes I have ever tasted. One was a meal for me and I took my time letting each bite melt in my mouth. Though I love crab I've always found crab cakes to be a hit or miss affair; mostly miss as they are too dry due to too much filler lending them a sawdust feel and taste or too moist, loaded up with cream cheese or whatever people load them up with. These were a little taste of heaven. And though I don't have a link for it I can tell you it is on 2550 Beacon Ave in Sidney, tucked at the end of the pier with a fabulous view of the ocean and mountains beyond, a "fish cam" (not too busy under the pier that day) and 24 hr surveillance.

Next up is STEINER'S BAKERY a lovely little find in Campbell River and the host to these lovelies which we got hand dipped while we waited as they had sold out of them just moments before. And, though the restaurant is cozy, casual and inviting (I'd enjoyed my first dipped doughnut a few days earlier in its comfort) we took these to the spit to enjoy as we took in the scenery on a slightly overcast morning before heading out for more adventures.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMM!

So delicious were they that we picked some up on our way out on Tues morning to share with our in-laws at a farewell brunch that they hosted. I must give thanks to our brother-in-law Paul who makes the most delicious, light pancakes and flavourful french toast for the spread that he and Sue put out for us. Sorry no pics are available, my camera jammed up and sorry he doesn't run a restaurant, though he could.

AN UPDATE: I have been nibbling since I left Vancouver Island since I'd had enough food to last me for about a week...just in time for THANKSGIVING CHOW DOWN 2010.

Have a great one all! May you all be so blessed!

It was worth the trip

2010-10-04T18:12:00.001-04:00

Every day something has occurred stirring such a profound gratitude from the depth of my soul that I have found myself proclaiming aloud or silently, "It has been worth the trip!"

Here are just some of those moments:

Sea Lions basking in the sun on our Eagle Eye Tour

An afternoon with Rod at Moose Falls just outside of Campbell River

Rod and I, Jean and Cliff take in the Market on a Sat morning:
delicious cinnamon buns, home-made pizza and doughnuts,
home grown produce and delicacies.

The Whisky Jacks at the base of Mount Washingtons entrance to Strathcona Park eat right out of your hand.

Miracle Beach where we witnessed Salmon (Chums) leaping for over 30 minutes.
A great day for the seals; for the salmon...not so much

There have been moments (too many to mention) with family and friends that will remain in my heart forever.

"It has been worth the trip!" Thanks to all who made our stay so memorable! I hope we can all say those words at the end of our life — wouldn't that be amazing! Seems like something to aim for.

Goats on the roof AND MORE

2010-10-02T19:06:00.000-04:00

Yes, there are goats on the roof.

This is what Coombs BC is known for and people come from around the world to see these guys. It is one of my in-laws favourite places not only for its goat appeal, but it is THE place from which to purchase “the best” (at least in my father-in-law’s estimation) local candied ginger. Sure it takes 90 minutes to get here from Campbell River but, what’s not to like – come here - satisfy your aw-w-w quotient and purchase a digestive aid all in the same trip. It’s worth the drive to Coombs.

I first heard mention of the “goats on the roof” from a local island girl when I came to Victoria in ’76, although back then it was merely the whimsy of an eccentric local to have his goats graze on his roof. A whole market has grown around the main house and more attractions have been added since our last visit in ’05.

The market in its country setting is stocked beautifully with vibrant fresh produce in a manner that would put Whole Foods to shame. Any type of freshly baked (though pricy) bread or smoked salmon you could wish for, you’ll find it here.

The slew of tourist kitsch, knick knack, Asian clothing, craft, and snack bars was present the last time I visited but new to me is the collection of massive soapstone carvings and the VW Museum which, for a mere $2. you can delight all things VW from restored beauties to photos, and any photo, album cover (check out the Beatles Abby Road Album) or ad in which a VW makes its appearance as centre stage or supporting role.

Another beautiful day on Vancouver Island! They say we’re in the rainy season, I think they lie to keep tourists away and have some time to themselves.

the language of yoga

2010-09-27T23:09:00.001-04:00

Here I am at the local Starbuck's in Campbell River, listening to a man talk about his enlarged prostate. This really, really isn't by choice. Obviously along with all the other maladies and remedies he's sharing with his friend, hearing problems must be somewhere on that list. This is definitely one of those moments when I wish they would crank out the music deafeningly loud as it seems I have super hearing and his voice pierces through the hushed tones of the other customers.

Anyway, I'll try and focus on the task at hand.

I just came from the 5:30pm Level one and two yoga class led by Geri at Yoga Solace Studio. I went in with a migraine hovering around my head and body but have come out feeling energetic, revitalized and refreshed thanks to the class and a changing weather pattern.

How wonderful it is that I can go virtually anywhere and drop-in on a yoga class and instantly people are "speaking" my language. The different "dialects" that each place presents makes it all so interesting. I did poses in Geri's class that I've never come across in my 42 years of yoga practice. And, there in an Iyengar style class (note this is my comparison regarding "styles" of yoga, no where does she mention the Iyengar approach) was emphasis on bandhas and breathing that I've not come across in this style of yoga since I left Victoria in '86 (before the formally organized system of Iyengar yoga teacher training evolved).

Yoga room was to the right of the sign behind the raised parking lot
Cathedral is across the street

Just 2 Sundays ago I was in Victoria enjoying the yoga class offered at the Iyengar Yoga Centre of Victoria led by Ty Chandler and as serendipity would have it, the bells of Christ Church Cathedral pealed in the distance sporadically throughout the class and again at its conclusion. The cathedral is situated just around the corner, directly across the street from what was then the Y's yoga room where I taught my first yoga class under the guidance of the Yoga Centre of Victoria teachers who had taken me under their wings.

Iyengar Yoga Centre of Victoria

I had the sheer joy of being in Shirley Daventry French's class the previous Thurs morning (the first time since 1986) amongst some of the same teachers and later shared lunch with yet more. A few days prior to this I took part in my good friend Marlene Miller's class at the Peninsula Yoga Centre in Sydney.

So many times during this trip I have had reason to declare "this was worth the trip"; these have been just a few of those moments.

A-1 wild life

2010-09-23T22:47:00.000-04:00

Peacocks still rule in Beacon Hill Park

Seagulls and cormorants provide 24 hr surveillance in Sydney

The seals still hang out at the Oak Bay Marina

Herons nest in Beacon Hill Park

And a hardy surf-sailor kicks up a mean wake off Beacon Hill Park

A-1 tour for Di

2010-09-21T11:51:00.002-04:00

lovely humongous tree in Beacon Hill Park

flower gardens in Beacon Hill Park

Snuffleupagus tree in front of the Empress
(may not be the real name of this type of tree)

float house garden entry way

the lawn complete with lawn chair of a float home resident

Nance's A-1 tour

2010-09-18T16:02:00.004-04:00

It's an overcast day out here in beautiful Victoria B.C. Yesterday began the same way too, but while I was caught in the throws of a 3 hr. computer angst attack, the sun began to shine through the windows of SERIOUS CAFE in the Fairfield neighbourhood where I was enjoying a Chai Latte and beckoned me to come outside and play. (Isn't it amazing that one can experience angst AND enjoyment at the same time - I guess that explains the squirrelly dream I had last night, but that's another post.)

So I thought I'd take you on a tour of Victoria. Please push, crowd and shove as you board the virtual bus.

One summer when jobs were unavailable, yoga classes were drastically cut down, money was scarce, the studio above the laundry was hotter than hades and I was house-sitting, I spent most of my time on a beach like this at the base of the bluffs off of Dallas Rd., taking in the sun, tucked in behind driftwood that afforded both privacy and wind-break. Many impromptu "structures" were built by beach bums more inventive and industrious than I. On particularly blustery days when more cover was essential, I would "squat" in their structures while their occupants where elsewhere. It was an unspoken agreement that (though we acknowledged each other's presence with a smile and a nod, rarely were words exchanged) as long as one respected the territory of another, this was OK.

When I wasn't at the beach, like many of my beach "buddies", I was in the library - we may have been poor, but we were a well-educated lot. I particularly enjoyed this kinetic sculpture whose branches move slowly, windmill-like; a metallic tree turning in the wind. And, as I took this picture the haunting voice of a minstrel busker was carried on the light breeze filtering through the passageway. Victoria possesses many locations that afford the best acoustics for musicians and in this respect at least, is a buskers dream.

Reality Check

2010-09-11T01:15:00.000-04:00

WAY OLDER THAN JUSTIN BEIBER

A headline in the local newspaper the other day was: ELDERLY MAN DIES IN CRASH. He crashed his car "when it appears he went into medical distress". As the details unfolded I envisioned a grey haired gent in his late 70's on his way to his maker only to find that the man was...60.

That's right six-oh, 60, sixty years old, and he's considered elderly. I almost went into shock when I read this. The reporter who wrote the piece is, obviously, barely out of his teens. To consider that a man of 60 has (as Wikitionary's definition of elderly states) "lived for relatively many years" is reasonable but "elderly" doesn't take into account that he probably felt in his prime until "wham" his time was up. It just seems a disservice.

Close to 60 myself, I can accept that I would be, in aboriginal terms, considered an elder. I feel entitled to embrace the hard earned wisdom that the term of respect implies I've gained over the years. But I guess that would make me elderly which is so remote from the word elder. Wikipedia states that, the term elderly "implies or means that the person is retired" which can vary according to the country that one lives in.

Now I know why I have such an aversion to the idea of retirement - I still see myself as a relatively young person. But I guess it is more correct to say that I am youthful or young at heart. But, if I was to die tomorrow the headline would read, ELDERLY WOMAN CROAKS and that sucks. I would be soooo turning in my grave. But really, I won't give a shit by then so what gives?

Today the paper also announced: BEIBER MEMORABILIA SELLING ON eBAY. At the time of the report, a bid of more than $3,500. was reached for a signed school yearbook. Somehow that just seems wrong. The kid's barely a warm bun out of the oven; I have dust bunnies older than Justin Beiber. I know that admitting this makes me a candidate for WHAT NOT TO WEAR but I have a sweater that is as old as his grandfather.

I know the term memorabilia really is synonymous with the word memento but, it has connotations of nostalgia and history.

I'm waiting for his memoirs. I hear their coming out next week. That should be exciting!

(I started going grey at 30) Nance Thacker copyright 1984
click on cartoon to enlarge