Memories of Auntie Emma......I need a Narfason group nag...

My mom's older sister, my Auntie Emma passed away yesterday. She was 89 and had spent the last 4-5 years in Betel, the nursing home in Gimli. She had dementia and for the past year and a half she was in a wheelchair because she broke one hip and a month later broke the other. For most of us, at that age, it would have killed us. But the Narfason gene is a strong one so she kept on going wheeling around the nursing home, not saying much, but she kept on singing.

Auntie Emma is a true Icelandic Canadian woman: practical, stoic and strong. The first to marry, she had four children in four years, back when keeping house and raising children was a very manual job. It was also a time when you lived on one salary, money was scarce, and you couldn't afford a car. Raised by a mother who ran a tight ship, she taught her girls how to clean well even though they lived in a small log farmhouse without electricity and running water. Emma learned from a master and her need to keep things orderly and "just so" followed her throughout her life. Imagine what that would be like when you didn't have the modern conveniences we have, the money we have AND four kids and a spouse to cook and clean for. On top of that, my Uncle Joe, her husband, worked for Air Canada and they were posted to numerous locations - one time to Goose Bay, Labrador. Emma stoically moved house wherever they were stationed and set up, helped her children settle in, found new places to shop, re-calculated what they could afford in the new location, scrimped to make do and managed to make new friends.

Like my mother, Emma and Joe packed up the kids and took them "home" to Gimli so they could see family and get to know their aunts, uncles and "cousins by the dozens". This was Emma's holiday and anyone who has ever gone "home" for holidays knows that it is work - especially for the women. Meals need to be prepared, space made for bedding down children, keeping belongings neat and tidy in your parents' home, helping with cleaning, looking after your children AND if that wasn't enough, you now have all your nieces and nephews to look out for as well. To add to that list you will take the children to the beach (whoever can fit in the car), buy ice cream cones, deal with sunburns, hang up wet bathing suits/towels, gather up beach toys and administer first aid on a frequent basis. I am exhausted just thinking about it.

So imagine what it would be like when you are in your 40's and your sister's children - the last of your nieces and nephews come along. Your children are grown up, you have been at this game for over 20 years, you are now faced with aging parents on the farm and your last two nieces are squiggly, squirmy, full-of-energy children. Well, my youngest sister Peggy in particular. In fact, Peggy was not only all of that, she was also outspoken and would tell you if she didn't like what you were doing. As Peggy said the other night when we were talking about our memories of Emma, "the patience was gone but the kindness was still there". As children, Peggy and I often got on the wrong side of Emma and had a "talking to", but it never stopped her from taking us to the beach and buying us ice cream cones.

But my real memories of Auntie Emma are as an adult. Because I live in Alberta and "home" is Sarnia, Ontario, I did what my mother did - packed up the family and headed east for our holidays. We would stop in Gimli as our half-way point and stay a few days on the way down and on the way back. We stayed at Dilla's house with our three children and Emma and Joe had a standing room there for when they were in Gimli (by that time they lived in Winnipeg). They welcomed us in the home, let us rest from our long journey, entertained our children, made meals for us and kept everything clean. After Uncle Joe died and Emma sold her house and moved to the seniors' apartments in Gimli, Dilla sold her house and moved in with Emma. We were still welcomed into their two-bedroom apartment, pulling out the sofa-bed in the living room and laying out our luggage in corners of the room.

Emma and Dilla always prepared for our visits - getting things cleaned, shopping for our children's favorite cereals, planning what they would have for meals, organizing teas at other relative's houses, getting schedules of what was happening in town for us to enjoy and getting the beach towels ready for our daily jaunts. And all of this well into their 70's and early 80's. There was no need for them to say "I love you", they said that through their every action over and over again.

My favorite meal is boiled sunfish with boiled potatoes, peas and Emma's green tomato relish. As soon as I arrived they would tell me what night they were planning this meal for me and the family. What a special treat. When I asked to help, Emma would say that she didn't need any help - partly due to wanting it done a certain way and partly due to wanting me to relax and enjoy. I loved them both for this gesture and knew I was "home" with them.

Emma and Dilla kept me in stitches, without meaning to, every time I visited. One time I stopped and they said we were going to a restaurant outside of Gimli that served great pie. They argued about how far it was - one said 9 miles the other 10. They agreed to check the odometer for the trip. When we arrived and found out it was 9 miles, the other said "no, really it was 10" due to the fact that we hadn't started at the right place. When we went into the restaurant, ordered pie (each piece was a 1/4 of a pie) with ice cream and began to eat, they both leaned forward to say to me, "you know Edith, we are on a diet." Never a dull moment!

And that brings me to the Narfason group nag. Years ago when we were celebrating mom and dad's 45th anniversary in Sarnia, Emma, Dilla, mom, Peggy and me were sitting together at the hotel lobby waiting to meet others for lunch. I somehow brought up my running and immediately, Emma, Dilla and mom pounced. They started a group "nag" jumping all over me about how I would ruin my knees, that I needed to stop this nonsense, I'd be sorry as I aged and so on. I sat through it all smiling, not offering any defence. Afterwards Peggy asked if that happened often, and I said yes. Every time I went to Gimli and stayed with Emma and Dilla, they group "nagged" me about something. Peggy asked how I could stand it and I replied that it didn't bother me, it made me smile and laugh.

Today I know why it didn't bother me, why it makes me smile. It's because of the way that the Narfason women let you know that they care about you, they are concerned about you, that they want the best for you, that they have information that may help you, that they want to protect you from harm - that they LOVE you. Emma never had to say "I love you" to me, she showed me every time I visited and let me know how special I was. Emma's life is over but her love will live on and I am so thankful that she showered it all over me throughout my life. She has left me with the greatest gift of all.

I LOVE you Emma and I will remember that LOVE is a verb - you taught me well.

Whose Memory is the problem?

I have just returned from a fabulous visit with my mom. If you have read any of my previous posts about my mother Alda you will know that she has alzheimer's and she is now in a nursing home on the alzheimer's unit. My mom is lots of fun to visit and I enjoy every moment I am with her. Even in her "grumpy" moments her sense of humour and love of life beams through. She has always been my role model for life and continues to be. Her present state has taught me a lot about what it means to lose your memory and whose memory is really the problem.

So let's get that right out of the way - it's OUR memory that is the problem not the person who has alzheimer's. Yes, they likely don't remember your name, why they know you, where they are, if you visited the day before, who your husband is, where you live, or any of the moments they have shared with you throughout your lifetime together. SO, who cares? Why is that so important? Why are we so hung up on being remembered?

It is our memory of the person and who they were that is the problem. It is because it is all about US and not them that it is a problem. And trust me, I know that is a tough thing to say, but the truth nonetheless. Let's be honest with ourselves. We are mourning the people our parents once were, we are mourning the memories we have of them and that we were people they once intimately knew. We are mourning that we are not "top of mind" and hold some special place in that memory of theirs and that we have effectively disappeared. We are mourning our own "deaths" because we often don't exist in their diminishing memories.

As a result I have done all of these things (see list below) and continue to see others do the same. It wasn't until my mother lived with us for six months after my father's death that I learned that it wasn't all about me, that my mother was a lovely person to be discovered in every moment and that by making it about her she gave me the greatest gift of all - TIME spent together. Here are some of the things we do when we make it about us and what we can do to make it about the other person.

1. Ask the person if they "remember" our name.

STOP playing guessing games. It is frustrating for the person with alzheimer's as they likely don't remember. Instead start your conversation with "Hello mom, it's Edith your daughter from Alberta." Tell them who you are and why they know you. You will be rewarded with a big smile OR a conversation starter - "Alberta! Why do you live in Alberta?"

2. Ask the person if they "remember the time when....."

This is the same as #1, a guessing game they are likely to lose. Let them be winners by telling them a story of your time together. Mom loves to hear stories of her past, where she grew up, how many children she has, the funny things we have done together, the wonderful characters who have interacted with her throughout her life. It is a great way to make a connection and mom is great at laughing at the moments that are truly funny, at laughing at her "former" self, at being incredulous when it is clear that I am "embellishing" a tad and raptly letting me entertain her. As we have spent many moments together I always have lots of stories to tell.

3. Not visit the person because "they won't remember anyways".

You are right. They won't remember your visit. I visited my mother every day for five days in a row and took her out every time. Every day when I told her "stories" about our time together the day before she would say, "I'm not so sure about that." The point of the visit isn't that she will remember, the point is that we spend time together and in that moment she is getting attention. If you saw the number of people that "hang out" by the elevator door on mom's floor, waiting for someone to pay some attention to them, you would know that the memory of the visit is not the purpose. It is the visit that is so important. Just the thought of mom "waiting" for someone to interact with makes me cry.

4. Not calling when you can't visit because "they won't remember the call anyways".

See #3 - same thing. My brother makes a point of calling me when mom is at his house for Sunday supper. Our phone calls aren't long but they are a great way to share a moment together and as long as mom is able to do this we will continue.

5. Making the visit really short because you don't know what to say.

Here is where you get to "flex" your communication skills and make your conversations/actions about the other person. I tell mom stories about "us". I make photo albums for mom that we look at together and point out people telling her who they are and how she knows them. My brother made a CD of mom's favorite music that she can dance to and we turn on the CD player and dance. I take mom out for a treat - she loves sweets and just the going out gives us lots to talk about as mom asks about everyone she sees and everything she reads on our travels. I take her back to my brother's house and we sit on the couch together and watch a movie - The Wizard of Oz is her favorite. Get curious and discover the things that make the other person happy and the time will "fly" by as you share the moments.

Memory is not everything. Moments lived together are. It is time to "step up to the plate" with our parents. It is not "all about us" anymore, it is about them. Let's get over ourselves and agree that they might not remember us, they might not know our name, they might not know the lifetime we have shared together. What a great way to create a new life, to start fresh every time and BE with each other in just that one moment, to shed our past and just LIVE. You will never regret one moment of that time and you will discover the wonderful person your parent is right now. What a great gift.

ENJOY your time with your parent - remember LIFE is short. Seize every moment.

Living Life the Alda Way....

The New Year always heralds reflection and a desire to do things differently. I don't bog myself down with "resolutions" that I may or may not keep but I do take a look at the things that are working for me and the ones that aren't. Then I look at the people I admire the most to see how they "be" the life they lead. Throughout my life my mother has been one of those special people that I completely admire - warts and all. She struggled with an obsessive compulsive personality and still managed to make sure that we were loved uniquely, gave to others generously, let her faith guide her, listened intently, kept confidences sacred, acted to keep relationships with family and friends current and laughed at herself with abandon.

Now in her twilight years and with alzheimer's firmly entrenched she is still top in my mind as the person I most want to emulate as I live my life. My mother, Alda, really lives every moment and she has come up with a simple and easy way to enjoy living.

Living Life the Alda Way...A few easy steps:

1. Greet those special people in your life with a big smile of surprise and complete satisfaction that they have come to visit - even if you don't remember their name.

2. Flirt shamelessly with every cute guy you see - don't let age be a factor. Stop and say hi to them and ask if they know you - chances are they will by your reputation alone. Where my mom lives the physiotherapist is "HOT" and he knows her by NAME.

3. Eat what pleases you and enjoy every mouthful. Be surprised every time someone gives you a "treat" and eat it like it is the very first time you have ever tasted something that delicious.

4. Where a "funky" hat. You will always make someone smile when they see you and it's a great conversation starter.

5. Nap regularly. Snore loudly. Snuggle up to someone and share the LOVE.

6. Be curious. When it says, "Pull" go ahead. If the fire alarm goes off you will have alerted people to your presence and pointed out the weakness in their systems and at the same time you will have found out whose heart is still pumping.

7. Play constantly. If you wander into someone else's room and see their closet open, go ahead and "hide" in there waiting for the first person (probably a nurse) to come into the room and then jump out and say "boo". You will have kept their job interesting while providing your family members with great stories to tell.

8. If you are upset, don't hold back, let others know and let them use their "listening/patience" skills to help you either solve the problem or re-direct. No matter what was said or done, forget and move on.

9. Tell stories that are "true" for you. Keep them guessing what you will come up with next.

10. DANCE every time you hear the music. Grab the closest partner and let your body express the JOY that lives within you.

I am off to see my mom this week and I intend to LIVE life the Alda way. Happy New Year to everyone, may you LIVE your life in every moment that you are blessed with.

Memories of Uncle Jim

The generation ahead of us is passing away and in its wake we are left wondering if we are ready to be the "older" generation. My Uncle Jim, age 89, passed away the other day. He was married to my mom's oldest sister and I have vivid memories of holidays spent out west in Gimli and seeing all the aunts, uncles and "cousins by the dozens". Uncle Jim in particular brings back clear and crisp visions of the cottage they had in Gimli where we gathered before heading to the beach or for the Islendingadagurinn (Icleandic Festival) that happened right across the street in the park. We would go back and forth all day, using the washroom, checking in with parents and stopping to eat.

And when you went, you always ran into Uncle Jim. I should say, running into a grumpy Uncle Jim. That was his personality. He would tell you to slow down, be careful in the cottage, be sure you weren't messing with things and if you did - watch out! You were sure to get a "talking to". Uncle Jim belonged with the "parent" category. There was no spoiling coming from him and he had no qualms about telling you how you were misbehaving. Me and my siblings were the youngest of 17 cousins and me and my "little" sister were the very youngest by quite a bit, so by the time we were running around he had been through a whole host of others that I am sure seemed a blur to him. With us, he could give quality scolding time to - how lucky we were!

So it came as a complete surprise when I grew up that Uncle Jim was really a big "softie" when it came to kids. Yes, he had a gruff exterior, a curmudgeonly persona, but inside he was just a pile of mushy goo and the person to bring that out was his first grandchild, Amanda. The 2nd and 3rd generation of nieces and nephews climbed all over the guy. They didn't jump when they heard his voice or shy away. They gladly went up to him to hear him speak and ignore any of his admonishments and do whatever they were going to do anyways. Uncle Jim became that funny guy who pretended to be gruff but was really a big teddy bear underneath.

And I guess I always knew that. Who else would let a stream of children flow through their cottage (a place of leisure!) all summer long. Who else would host and host and host again even though it meant cleaning up constantly, getting everything ready for the onslaught and fixing the things that would inevitably be broken during the foray.

Uncle Jim had his warts like we all do, but underneath those warts he was a hard-working man, a person who kept himself well read, a father who tried to do his best to make sure his children were well prepared for adulthood, a husband who had met his match with his wife (thank goodness those Icelandic-Canadian women are strong!), and he let himself become a part of the extended Narfason family. And I have to stress that part - he chose to be a part of a family that was opinionated, large, boisterous, demanding and never-ending. And that wasn't the way he had been raised. It didn't fit with the controlled family environment he had been a part of so to choose to let yourself by swept along on that Narfason wave was a great leap of faith for Uncle Jim.

And we are all better for it. Thank you Uncle Jim for all the memories. Summers were made because you opened your door at the cottage and I see now that you were opening your heart to let us all in.

Passion and Obsession...A sharing post - read and tell me about yours.

It's official. My passion is becoming my obsession. For those of you who know me, this won't come as a surprise. Most of you would have said that it was inevitable. It's true, I am on that side of the spectrum where once I get hold of something, I can't let it go. It is hard to tell if I am holding onto it or it is holding onto me. Is this what separates the mundane from the masterpieces? I wonder where the line is for the truly talented? If you can still distinguish and surface into reality, have you not gone far enough to be a genius?

My mom was obsessive compulsive. She was never diagnosed but when looking back at her life (and cleaning out her house) you can see how her obsessiveness to keeping everything neat and tidy became compulsive - she couldn't let go and her compulsion wouldn't let go of her. Even now with alzheimer's securely entrenched, you can see her mind fixating and not wanting to let go until the "job" is done. Her passion wouldn't make her famous, but it did make her organized and allowed her to raise four children, be frugal so that retirement was possible for mom and dad and kept her footprint on this earth to a bare minimum. In her later years her passion became a compulsion and was her ball and chain, keeping her tied to the house, worrying about everyone and narrowing her world to what she could control. Fixating on finding a place for everything and putting it away perfectly kept her from reading, sitting down and enjoying the company, relaxing and finding peace in the chaos. Considering how much her later life was dominated by her obsession, she still managed to leave home for visits, to be involved in the community and to have company over. Was she relaxed about it? - no, but she had moments of pure joy, laughter and yes, once in a while you could see her relax. Her compulsiveness wasn't debilitating to the point of complete withdrawal, but as the years went on, it became more difficult for her to unchain herself.

I wonder about this a lot. When your passion - however you define it, becomes an obsession - how will you know? And if it does, does that make it a bad thing? How do we decide what obsessions are worthy and which ones aren't? Does the human descent into obsession give the world beauty, joy, cures, love? Does it also give us the evil acts that destroy? Where is the line between what builds and what destroys? And will we know in that moment which one it will be? As we all know, the scientific breakthrough that brought the breaking of the atom, brought us the atom bomb. And even with that evil unleashed in the world, it still has brought us science that will lead us to building our society, not just destroying society. So how do we judge our passions, our obsessions?

I started this post about my passion turning into an obsession. My photography on my runs is that passion. It is the taking of pictures of the colours of Fall right now. I know I am falling into an obsession because it is the backdrop to my dreams - even my nightmares and my behaviour at times is thoughtless. I see the Fall colours everywhere. I notice the play of light and the colours the light creates. Is this a good obsession? Will it lead me to building up or to destruction? Should I let myself go and willingly submit to its hold on me? Right now, I am going to enjoy the ride and observe. What will I notice about myself? Will I like what I see? Will I like who I am? As always, I have the answer within. When my passion turns into an obsession, I know where the line is and I know when that line is being crossed. Passion serves me and others. Obsession serves itself. It's how quickly that happens that trips me up. I can miss that switch from passion to obsession easily and I can ride that descent mindlessly before I recognize the hold it has. And it is sneaky...it can snake back and forth teasing as you go from passion to obsession to passion all in an instant. Or more insidiously, it creeps slowly where you justify that you really haven't moved over the line that much, just a little bit and it will be easy to go back over again. What you don't realize is that you keep moving your line until you have dragged it so far away that it seems a huge journey to get back and you are exhausted from dragging that chain for so long.

And that's why I want to hear from you. Collectively, our human stories of our unique journeys give us all guideposts to watch for on our own path. Your re-telling of your experience with the accumulated wisdom of your hindsight may be the "ah-ha" moment that keeps me from going through the swamp of despair or avoid the broken glass of regret along my own path.

What's your passion? When do you know if it has switched into an obsession and is only serving itself? How long does it take you to get out of its clutches? How does your body/mind alert you to the descent? Has the descent been what you needed? Has it led you to awareness or growth as a result of the experience?

I want to hear your stories....I want to hear your truths. Enjoy the pictures I took today - my passion? my obsession?

It all changes...and it all stays the same...

Yesterday (no, not like the Beatles), like in the day before, we went to High Prairie to visit friends on their farm. The day was lovely, the colours stunning and I was taking pictures of everything. The light through the trees, the colours of the leaves, the reflection in the water, the old car covered in moss, it all was calling me to stop and notice, to stop and enjoy the beauty surrounding me. As luck would have it, we had a young boy accompanying us on our walk through the woods and down to the river. He entertained us with his reckless driving of his homemade bicycle down the steep hill and his constant chatter of what he was doing and thinking. It was the perfect soundtrack to a perfect day.

When I told him that I run every day and stop lots to take pictures on my route, he innocently said, "you must have taken all the pictures if you are going on the same route all the time." To him he could only see the repetitive nature of that run/route and why would I waste my time taking the camera with me if I had already taken those pictures. His innocent stream of consciousness made me think about why I do take the camera and gave me the opportunity to explain that every run, every moment something changes and awaits our notice. The different time of day with the light, the clouds that cover the sky, the slight change in colour from day to day, new growth, signs of decay, a little detour off the path -- it all changes even if it stays the same.

My camera is my "moment" finder. Carrying it and taking pictures are more about being in that moment with that beauty than it is about getting a great picture. Most of what I photograph gets purged when I return. Most of what I "capture" can never be "captured". It doesn't look the same when I "caught" it on the camera - so much of the picture isn't there and what I stopped to see is so much more than what my eye can see. It is the entire moment of just being one with the light, one with nature, one with sound, one with smell, one with sensation - and so much more. How could I ever capture the wind whispering, the birdsong rejoicing, the grasshoppers jumping, the leaf fluttering, the brook babbling, the smell of high-bush cranberries rotting, the light dancing through the trees - all those moments that include a universe of possibility. I can only be in the moment and notice that while everything is the same it is always changing.

Running daily gives me the chance to experience the change within the sameness and to apply it to my own life. While I can struggle with my "same old thoughts", I know that everything is always changing. A subtle shift of perspective, a brief pause of silence, a twinkle of acceptance, a rich smell of forgiveness, a whispering of calm and a full breath of joy. That is all there even when it feels like my thoughts and feelings are stuck on repeat.

Our daughter often calls wanting to find out what's new. I tell her that nothing is - it was the same, I went to work, came home, made supper and went to bed to read, fall asleep and get up and start again. I could tell her that everything has changed because it all has. It may sound the same and look the same, but we are like the babbling brook, the water that passes by is always new. I have changed, I continue to change but what has changed can't be captured. It can only be experienced. Next time she calls and asks, "What's new?", I will say "everything" and leave it at that or maybe I will try to do what I do with pictures, share what can't be captured and know that in sharing it will change again and create new moments that can only be experienced.

That really is what makes our humanness so exciting. We do try to "capture" our moments and share them. We connect to the other through the most imperfect of means and in doing so we create new universes of possibility. Today we are having our Thanksgiving meal and I know what I am thankful for - I am thankful for every moment to just be and for every moment to share and be shared with. It isn't the same, it has all changed and every possibility is here right now. WOW, I am thankful for the AWESOMENESS of the universe.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Sundays are for quick culinary adventures....walnuts, gluten-free, leftovers, roasting veggies and so much more.

Oven-roasted veggies for spaghetti sauce, mmmmm....

Sunday is my day for cooking, specifically Sunday mornings. My inspiration comes during the week as I plan what I will make for supper on Sunday and be our leftovers for the week. Being a morning person means that I have a small window of energy in which to make the meal after I wake up on Sunday. With a plan to have my morning coffee while reading the Sunday Edmonton Journal, getting my workout in before I leave for my 10:00 am run, have a "morning date" with my sexy husband and spend the rest of the Sunday being lazy, it doesn't leave much time for any fancy gourmet meal preparation. One hour is about how much time I allot for the task which has to include all chopping and getting the food ready to be cooked. So what can you get done in 1 hour that will taste good? A lot!

Walnuts are my latest obsession for everything from salads to desserts. Today I made an apple/cranberry/date/peach crisp without any flour or oatmeal. I got all the fruit out of the fridge that looked like it was ready to crawl out on its own, cut, peeled and chopped and threw them in a pot with a little bit of apple juice, chopped dates and frozen cranberries. I sauteed them and then added a big spoonful of fig jam and sprinkled with cinnamon. For the topping I toasted walnuts in a dry frying pan and then added apple juice to make it sizzle, threw in a handful of raisins, craisins and frozen cranberries. As that cooked away I poured a sprinkling of honey over the mixture and put in a teaspoon of cinnamon. Leaving it for a few more minutes on the stove I started with the main dish for supper.

A few weeks ago I had made a spaghetti sauce by roasting the vegetables first and it was delicious. Today seemed like a good day to try it again. Using chopped onions, zucchini, smashed garlic and lots of diced tomatoes, I tossed them in olive oil, salt, pepper and lots of oregano and put it in the roaster. I don't eat spaghetti normally (I try to avoid things with flour) and so I cut up a spaghetti squash, acorn squash and a sweet potato to put in the oven to bake.

I do have to do a bit of work in the afternoons, but mostly the finishing touches to the meal and the final cooking. I scraped the squashes, mashed them together in a bowl, added salt/pepper and butter to the mix and spread into the pan. I will put it back in the oven 1/2 hour before supper for a final baking. I roasted the vegetables for an hour, cut up some chorzio sausage to toss in with the veggies, added some red and white wine (and had a few sips for myself), covered the roaster and put back in the oven at 250 to let it simmer till supper time.

What's left? Make a quick salad with spinach, cut apple, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, salt/pepper and oregano and voila - supper is served!

Now I can start thinking about next Sunday's meal - Thanksgiving. I have lots of ideas in my head that will take more time to prepare but that's okay, I will have Monday to rest with lots of leftovers for another week.

What are your great recipes? What inspires you in the kitchen? What is your easiest and best recipe? I would love to hear what you are cooking - that is always my best inspiration, ideas from others. Bon appétit!

Purging or Dumping - it's a fine line....

It's been a while since I have posted anything, not because I don't have anything written but because what I have written isn't for public consumption. You could say I have had a "writer's block" but it's more like a "mother's block". You remember your mother saying, "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything."

A year ago I started this blog because I wanted to "purge" my head. I have all these ideas and thoughts swirling inside and I wanted to do some cleaning. A little dusting in the corners of my soul, a heavy-duty scrubbing of my "drama-queen self" and a sorting through of all the emotional baggage I carry around. The problem - a lot of that baggage isn't pleasant, funny, witty, charming or even slightly endearing. Most of it is garbage plain and simple. And some of it is stinky, filthy, rotting STENCH that requires heavy-duty gloves, face-mask and a big shovel.

And to those of you who read my posts (thank you! - my little "i" ego LOVES you!), it isn't fair to dump my garbage on your doorstep. My nightmare coming to life is watching an episode of "Hoarders" - I physically cringe when I see inside people's homes that are overrun with stuff that has consumed their space and their lives. I couldn't understand why they would bring in professionals to gently confront the hoarder with each item and allow the hoarder to decide if they were ready to let go of the item or not. I thought they just needed to bring in a professional cleaning crew with a dumpster and walk in and start tossing. Better yet, get a front-end loader and go to town.

But that approach doesn't work because the hoarder will only start collecting again. The fix is temporary unless the professional addresses the hoarder's reasons and the hoarder is ready to make a change.

I get it now. Hoarders aren't any different from me. While I can keep my space "clutter-free", my mind is chock full of garbage that I cling to when it is no longer useful or I tuck away in a corner to collect dust. I have wonderful friends and family that all want to help me get rid of it, some who give me gentle nudging, others who are waiting with the front-end loader -- but until I am ready to let go and do the heavy-lifting of sorting through the mess of accumulated hurts and regrets, it will continue to pile up. Purging really is about sorting and deciding what can be saved, what can be given away, what can be recycled and what needs to be sent to the garbage dump. What's garbage isn't meant for others. Others shouldn't have to pick up my trash and clean up after me.

So I have been sorting. Lots of junk is swirling around and while I would like to dump it out there and let someone else deal with it, I know that I can't. I know that it will only add to my garbage pile when I hurt someone else with my emotional baggage. It is all about me and I need to clean up my own mess. I will find treasures to keep, hidden gems of truth and space to breathe in where rays of light can "lighten" my soul.

I am feeling lighter already. Writing this today helped get rid of that garbage thought of "I should be writing". I am. I am ready. I have a table cleared, flowers blooming, sun shining and a smile to greet the day.

Here comes the sun....Hallelujah!

From fire to flood in two months is severe and a bit wearing on the nerves. You know how short your nerves are getting when you see the sun for a brief glimpse and you all gather round to witness the event.

I think I am pretty tough when it comes to weather. I have lived in Northern Alberta for over 30 years now and I have "weathered" -40 to +30. But I have to say this year has been exceptionally ROUGH and I say ENOUGH is ENOUGH. I get why cultures throughout the ages have worshipped all sorts of deities and had numerous belief systems. It was a way of bringing back some control to an uncontrollable situation. Mother Nature can be a real BITCH and if you thought that hopping on one foot while chanting backwards with your arms raised to the sky would appease her in some way, I say GO FOR IT! Really, I completely understand. For the past week I have been contemplating sacrificing a pair of virgins to a "puddle". I wasn't even going to be picky about the "virgin" part - just any willing pair that would "take one for the team". Lately Pat has been going to sleep with one eye open because he was afraid I just might decide that he would have to be the one.

And it isn't the first time I have had thoughts like this. We had a loooong winter and I was having the same thoughts about sacrificing a pair of virgins to a snowdrift. When we finally got Spring-like weather it was in early May and within 2 weeks we had a devastating fire that destroyed a huge portion of our town and the surrounding communities. And just when we are back from evacuation and people are trying to sort through the rubble so they can begin to rebuild, we get rain, rain, rain, rain......and I mean RAIN. It's hard to keep an optimistic outlook.

So when the sun finally comes out you want to soak it all up, get as much Vitamin D as you can to fortify yourself for whatever comes next. You can't help but smile and dance for joy. The sun is like some long-lost friend that you just ran into, a long ago lover that you never got over, a superstar that came out to mingle -- you get the idea, it's a BIG DEAL. A smile won't rebuild our town but it sure will help to lighten the emotional load that so many people are carrying around. The sunshine makes that possible - it brings rays of hope that we so desperately need.

I don't know if someone "took one for the team" or if someone came up with a "sun-dance" that actually worked. What I do know is that I am grateful for the sunshine. Grateful for a reprieve. Grateful to Mother Nature who is smiling on us today. I will try to "store" this in my very pores and remember this feeling so I can keep that smile on my face. I know that this year more than ever I have to keep a sunny disposition - I have to be there for the team as we begin to rebuild, not in a way that discounts the hard reality of their situations, but in a way that helps them see the sunnier days to come. Hope is sometimes all we have to hold onto and I want those rays of hope to shine as bright as they can in the months to come.

Here's to SUNNIER days for all of us.

What's it like to be a twin, without being a twin?....

In just a few short days I will celebrate my birthday and two days later my sister will celebrate hers. Although we are two years and two days apart in age we were treated like we were twins. Strange you may say....frugal my mother would say.

Just think. If you could combine two birthday parties into one, shop for the same thing, just in a different colour - it makes perfect sense. You save time and money. And why stop at birthdays? You can keep it up for all special occasions. Being the youngest of seventeen cousins on my mother's side and adding the "exhaustion" factor, it made it a whole lot easier on aunts who had to manage all of this gift-buying.

And we did look an awful lot alike. Mom was very good at giving us identical "boy-short" haircuts and we were both blond and pale. I can see how you could forget that we were actually two years apart and not "twins". In all family functions we were "foisted" upon each other, having no other younger children to play with. Only when we were with our other cousins on my dad's side did we have cousins our own age to play with. Unfortunately, they lived far away and we only got together with them rarely.

Not that I am complaining (well maybe a little). Looking back on my childhood I realize how important that relationship was with my sister. We were the best of friends and the worst of enemies. We could easily play contentedly for hours only to break out into a brawl with the mere "note of song" from my sister's lips. I loved her and hated her all at once. Being stuck together in everything made her my very best friend and the one that could get me grinding my teeth in fury when she....breathed too loudly at night (we slept in the same room), began to sing in the house, sucked on her fingers (which she did until she was 9 when she slept) and a host of other trivial little things that got on my nerves. Looking back on this I can't think of why it upset me so and why I would fly into a rage when she did these things. I think it was that feeling of powerlessness in "choosing" how much together time you wanted with a person.

The gifts were another thing. It was dreadful when Christmas and our birthdays came around and one of us would open our gift first. The other would then know what they were getting - totally ruining the surprise, except for the colour of the item. I can still remember vividly why one of my happiest times was when I had my appendix out at the age of 6. The reason I was so happy? Aunts and uncles and friends came to visit me after the surgery and brought me presents JUST FOR ME! There was no sharing. I couldn't believe my good fortune. I don't recall the pain of the operation, but I sure remember getting all those gifts that were mine alone. I am sure I made a point of gloating when my sister came to visit.

Still it was the gifts we shared that I remember most. Our grandparents allowed us to choose an item from the Eaton's Christmas catalogue that would be our shared Christmas present. One year we got telephones that were connected by a wire we could have in different rooms and "speak" to one another through. Another year we got an "Easy Bake Oven". And one year we got one of the best gifts ever - a bike for the two of us from our parents. Not a new one. It was a used bike and one of the best presents we ever received. For my 13th and my sister's 11th birthday, we got a brand new 5-speed bike. Again, we shared this gift and we were ecstatic. We thought we had won the lottery.

And I have won the lottery of life. My youngest sister is one of the greatest gifts of my life. We weathered our growing up years together, learned how to play together and how to share...our hopes, our dreams, our reality, our fears, our lives. I know that her love is always there for me no matter how far away I am. Her love is like the nights she would come over to my bed and snuggle up beside me, keeping me safe from the numerous monsters that plagued our room. She may have driven me insane with her "loud" breathing, but it was her very presence that comforted my heart.

So here's to my twin, the one that still holds my heart in hers and has treated it with all the love and care I have needed over the years. Happy Birthday Pegga - I LOVE YOU!

Slave Lake - Out of the Ashes: Shock, Pain, Hope and Renewal....

I have lived in Slave Lake for 30 years - all of my adult life. This community is my home. What happened to my community on Sunday, May 15th was the biggest shock of my life.

I am not new to forest fires. Since coming to Northern Alberta in 1980 I have experienced the relative close proximity of forest fires and I have seen the devastation they cause in our beautiful surroundings.

Many years ago I drove down Highway 2 towards Edmonton a few weeks after a fire had gone through. It was the first time I had seen the aftermath and what I saw took me by surprise. I was expecting a "clean slate" with just charred remains of trees for miles. Instead I saw the blackened trunks of trees, the blackened grass and a stunning carpet of emerald green. In the full light of a late spring day this carpet of green was dazzling, especially in contrast to the blackness all around. The emerald green carpet was the new grass growing, overtaking the blackness of the earth creating a new landscape. I remember crying at the stunning beauty amidst the destruction.

For the many who have lost their homes, for residents who had to flee to places far and wide, for the firefighters who tried to avert disaster, for the emergency personnel who have sifted through the rubble, for officials who are trying to piece together a functional community, for all who have been affected by this fire there will be a wide range of emotions from initial shock to action, to pain, to anger, to incredible grief for what we have lost. For some this will happen quickly, for others it will take time to go through. Over time many of us will cycle through these emotions as we reach critical junctures in rebuilding.

And out of all of this, hope emerges taking root in our souls, pushing out of the blackness to create a carpet of emerald green that will lead to our renewal. It won't be easy. It will be trying for many and it will take a community to support each other as we move through the blackness and into the light.

We have a long road ahead of us and I am so lucky to know that I will be on that journey with the Slave Lake and area residents. I have lived in Slave Lake for 30 years for a reason. Yes I love our region for its natural beauty, but I stay because of the people. You are the beauty that can never be replaced.

See you all very soon and thank you to all the firefighters, emergency personnel, public officials, government workers and all who are tirelessly working to make our community safe so we can come home - we will never be able to thank you enough. Another big thank you to the huge outpouring of support from our region, the province, the country and the world. You have let us know that we are not alone and have allowed our hope to grow.

Happy Mother's Day Mom

My mom is the best mom in the whole wide world and she shares that title with many other moms all over the world today. In my eyes, she has no competition and to many sons and daughters the world over they would feel that way about their own mothers. There are lots of reasons for this sentiment and they all come back to how much they love. It is a feeling that seeps right down to your very core and gives you the sustenance to make your way in life.

My mother just came for a visit. I had her for 13 glorious days. She no longer travels on her own, she no longer remembers from moment to moment, she isn't even sure who I am in relation to her anymore. I could tell you a story about "losing" the mom I knew to alzheimer's or I could tell you the real story about the wonderful woman my mother is right now. Our roles were reversed over the 13 days. I became the "parent", providing personal care to mom, but she retains the one thing that makes her the best mom in the whole wide world - her love that radiates into every corner of my soul.

In celebration of Mother's Day and in celebration of my mother Alda, here is some of what my mother has taught me over the years....

Smile every chance you get.
Laugh at yourself and laugh with others.
Be interested in others. Listen to their stories.
Be frugal and leave a small "footprint".
Forgive easily.
Own your quirks.
Inform yourself.
Read daily.
Enjoy the sunrise, sunset, the moon, the clouds, the birds, the squirrels, the water, the boats, people walking by, children playing.....welcome joy in every moment.
Stay connected to family.
Reach out and give generously.
See the potential for change even in the darkest moments.
Dance, dance, dance and then dance some more....
Help others get the spotlight.
Worry with faith.
LOVE like there is no tomorrow.

Thanks mom. I love you - you are the best mom in the whole wide world!

Mom and me trying to line dance - April 22-11 from Edith Mackenzie on Vimeo.

Who Let Us Be the Grownups Anyways?

It is one of those weeks where I have felt constantly under siege. Each time I get my head wrapped around one thing, another pops up and my emotional response is a little on the "crotchety" side. I just get back up when BAM, another hit comes and down I go for the count. While these experiences may help contribute to my maturity, in the moment they just feel like overload. Can someone in the universe let me "learn" my lesson in my own time!

So who let us be the grownups anyways? As long as my mom and dad were around, I could dip my toes into the pool of adulthood without having to fully submerge. With dad's death and mom's alzheimer's, I and my siblings are now the "head" of the household. Whether we wanted it or not, we have been dunked. Every time I come up for air I get another dunking. I wasn't ready for this and I don't think I really signed up for it.

I remember those childhood/teenage years where aging seemed to be an ever elusive and unreachable goal. What I craved - independence to do what I wanted, when I wanted - was just that. I didn't know that I would have to take all the responsibility that came with it and be face-to-face with the consequences of my ill-thought out choices. And I didn't know that my body may mature but my mental/emotional maturity would take years and years to gain any ground. What you may see when you look at me is an adult, but inside that little "i" is jumping up and down demanding constant attention - man that inner child is annoying!

About a year and a half ago I still had a safety net. I could call up mom and dad and have a good chat, know that they had my back no matter what happened. They were always rooting for me and allowed me to be in "Neverland" just a little bit longer. I could still drift into their comforting arms and be held in their loving embrace - protected from all the monsters in my life. I still had to take responsibility but I knew that I could always turn to them for solace. I didn't have to be the "grownup" with them and I loved that space to be the child I still was inside.

Now it's our turn and I have to say I wasn't ready for this role. I want to be the confident, warm, loving and wise parent on the outside, but inside I am screaming for HELP! Who let me be the grownup? Don't you think I should have interviewed for this? Shouldn't my apprenticeship be a little longer? What if I fail? Who will be there to pick up the pieces? Maybe we should think this over a bit more....

So let me start by apologizing for my inadequacies and my denial. I thought I had more time. I thought I could avoid the job. I didn't think they were serious and thought they would find a more suitable replacement. I thought I could pretend to be grownup without having to really mean it, that it was just like playing "dressup". I never knew how hard mom and dad had it when their parents passed away. I didn't know how vulnerable they must have felt to know that you were it - you were the grownup now.

Right now I just want to be curled up beside mom and dad getting the "snuggling" that made it all alright. No matter how bad it was, they always had that for me, just letting me know that it was okay. I could be the child and let them be the adult for just that moment. That's all I needed to get up and go again and play at being a grownup, to keep rehearsing for that reality show called life. But this isn't a dress rehearsal anymore. I am here trying to get a grip on what it means to be an "adult" and I am finding out what mom and dad knew all along. It isn't easy. There is no manual. When you think you know something you find out you really don't know anything. You are human. You will make mistakes. And it's okay - you will be alright. Pick yourself up, grab the helping hand, breathe and most importantly LIVE every moment. Joy is there in the wonder of it all.

Thanks mom, thanks dad. I think I can do this.....

Winter Slayers in the Hamlet of HadEnough - The creation of an epic game takes a community....

Week 2 and I still need your help. I know that Spring is arriving and we are starting to shed our need to complain about winter, not wanting to "anger" any natural force that may just give us another "blast" before Spring really stays. But I want to be prepared for next year. I want to have an epic game ready that will help stave off those long winter blues so I am pushing on.

Creating an epic requires community as it has for millennia. Story-telling is a communal event where participation is key. Each generation has added and embellished on the great stories of our evolution and even though it may be one story-teller, each story-teller has gathered their ideas and borrowed their lines from everyone they meet. What they add is their unique spin to the crafting of the story. In the end, each story is a story of all of us - the darkness, the light, the potential, the destruction, the courage, the cowardice - it all exists within each of us and some of us harbour these elements deep within our very souls - some of us will stumble upon the opportunities to live the glory publicly and others are doomed to let the darkness loose upon the land. Most of us will live in the nether-world of grey where every day dips us into the pool where ripples can become tsunamis of reality or they can fade away to a far-away shore of our consciousness.

Here is your opportunity to bring it all out into the light of creation. We can make it "real" and decide its fate or let it live organically where the story chooses how it plays out. Here is what we have so far:

The small Hamlet of HadEnough is being held in the "grip" of Old Man Winter. Old Man Winter has unleashed his complete arsenal at the hamlet. HadEnough is under siege. The Hamlet is being defended by the Knights of Chinook who are led by Sir Smilealot. The Knights are barely holding on. Chinks in their armour are starting to appear and Sir Smilealot's leadership is coming under question. He is more interested in sending platitudes to the troops than really getting out there and waging battle. Some are questioning whether his constant smiling is from genuine zeal or being artificially maintained through the use of the powerful new drug that is circulating in town - "Don't worry, Be Happy" pills. Rumour has it that these pills are being smuggled into town by the shady "Sleet Gang". This gang works both sides of the conflict looking for opportunity to make money - they can disguise themselves as snow or as rain depending on who they are dealing with.

Sir Meltalot is becoming more and more impatient with Sir Smilealot's leadership and is quietly rallying support for a coup. Lady Warmheart, Sir Smilealot's betrothed is warming more than one heart in the town and her powerful "force" is gaining its own support. While the Knights do battle, the women of the town are quietly weaving spells into the fabric of clothing that are slowly gaining strength to repel one of Old Man Winter's worst weapons - "Hell has Frozen Over Cold". The losses of fingers, toes, noses and the like are becoming less and less as the women gain deftness in their spinning and strength through their successes. Their secret meetings and sharing of spells is creating a whole new "troop" that is slowly emerging to be the "force" Old Man Winter needs to reckon with.

While the Knights argue amongst themselves, Old Man Winter realizes that the women of the town are the real threat to his supremacy. He casts his own spell, striking those who are most affected by the darker days with a "zombie" curse. Once they fall under the curse they become his minions in the town wreaking havoc and destruction as the town descends into nights that seem to stretch more and more....is the town doomed???

To be continued...WITH YOUR HELP. Anyone who contributes an idea will have a "share" in the game if it ever gets a bite from a gaming company. Get those creative juices flowing and enjoy the sneak preview of Spring this week.

I need you to help me create an epic game....

This is an interactive post today. After reading an article in the Edmonton Journal "Playing Games can Make a Difference in the Real World" about Jane McGonigal who wrote, "Reality is Broken: Why Games Make Us Better and How They Can Change the World", I decided I needed to create a game that would help conquer those "spring that is still winter blues".

Jane McGonigal suffered a brain injury when she was writing her book "that left her depressed and unable to write". She created her own game called "SuperBetter", where she became her own super hero and enlisted family and friends to participate in the game to help her cope with the depression. What a great idea and why can't we do the same to overcome the blues that accompany the long winters we have in Northern Alberta (and elsewhere in Canada this year).

So here's the plan. I want to enlist all my readers to come up with an element(s) for the game. The game will be called "Winter Slayers". It will be set in a fictional town called "Wintersville" where "Old Man Winter" has settled in for a long fight. Old Man Winter is the epitome of evil blasting away at Wintersville with his complete arsenal. His weaponry consists of Arctic Chills (blasts of wind that freeze souls upon contact), Pelting SnowIce (a combination of wind and rain that has frozen into stinging ice crystals), Hell has Frozen Over Cold (dropping temperature to -30 and below, where exposed skin freezes in 1 minute or less) and more......this is where you all come in.

We need the following for the game - lots of creativity and HUMOUR. Make as many contributions as you want. I have a list with things I think we need to create a truly epic game.

Old Man Winter arsenal - he needs a full complement of weapons and tricks to deploy. Come up with a name for the weapon or trick with a description of what it can do
A super hero or two or more.... need a name, costume and set of weaponry that the super heros can use to battle with Old Man Winter
A budding romance amidst the chaos and any other storylines that will make this a "real" world
Other supporting characters for the heros OR the villain(s)
A map of the town, a setting for the game - this can grow and develop as we go along - are there hideouts? concealed places to hide weapons? neutral zones? surrounding/forbidden landscapes? You name it, let's create it!
Background on the characters - why they are so good/evil or a mixture of the two (like real-life where there is more gray than black & white)
Rules/guidelines - but remember, as the ultimate creator of the game, I reserve the right to "change" the rules of the game (Oh, do I love playing God!)
Names for the characters/town/game that you think are better than the ones I have come up with so far -- everything is up for grabs!

What else am I missing to make this game complete? Let's have some fun and chase away those "crappy weather blues" at the same time. Each week I will update the game with the developing story lines, characters, location, etc. Together we will see what we can create and if this goes well - I have some ideas for other games that might even tackle some issues our world is facing. As Jane McGonigal talks about in "Gaming Can Make a Better World", the potential is infinite if we all work together. Get "gaming"!

Here is the Ted Talk that Jane McGonigal did on "Gaming Can Make a Better World".

"Future Babble", "Shock of Gray" and "Sex at Dawn" - read them all

Time for some reading recommendations. This past month I have been on a non-fiction reading kick. Each one has been an eye-opener and have made me think, think, think....it is all whirling inside and my mind is trying to absorb it all.

First, and I recommend reading them in this order, is "Future Babble: Why Expert Predictions Fail and Why we Believe Them Anyway" by Dan Gardener. This book really got me thinking and more importantly, made me examine what I believe and why I believe it. The best part of this book is explaining why our minds grab onto expert predictions, especially expert predictions that are made with extreme confidence (by "hedgehogs" - read the book and you will find out who they are). I have read some of Dan Gardener's columns in the Edmonton Journal editorial section and I have always liked his way of exposing how politicians appeal to our "fears" while ignoring the evidence that exists. Why use reason when a good scare story will serve your party better. Dan provides many good references and explanations to studies that show how our brain works which is why we are so hell-bent on believing these expert predictions. What is even more amazing is how even in the face of contrary evidence that predictions have failed - the experts will wriggle it to make the failure into a success. I happened to be visiting a good friend after reading the book and we shared some good laughs at the way our own lives have reflected those tendencies - to ignore the evidence and try to make our "mistake" fit.

The second book I read was "Shock of Gray: The Aging of the World's Population and how it pits Young against Old, Child Against Parent, Worker Against Boss, Company Against Rival and Nation Against Nation" by Ted Fishman. I did read this book with more caution after reading "Future Babble", making sure that I wasn't just buying into the "expert predictions". For the most part, Fishman does a good job of just using the present-day data and some good examples to help us see what a graying population is looking like. From there the expert predictions he was quoting were using projections of population numbers based on the current population numbers. With my own experiences of my own aging, my husband's and the aging of my mother -- a lot of the examples he used hit home. All I can say is that I am sure glad our daughter chose nursing as a career. Oh, and if you are interested in starting an "elder" community - let me know. I am ready to buy in.

The last book I just finished is "Sex at Dawn: The Prehistoric Origins of Modern Sexuality" by Christopher Ryan and Cacilda Jetha. I bought this book for my husband when we went to Victoria at the end of January. He loves those "sex" books I buy him, he just thinks we should do more with them than "read"! I can hear our daughter right now -- "I don't want to hear this!" After Pat finished reading the book he passed it on to me and WOW - it really made my head whirl. This book made me question my belief system and it goes right back to the first book, "Future Babble". We get so much "expert" information, but all too often the "expert" information is shaped by our belief systems and any error in our belief systems can cause distortions in our understanding of what is actually going on. I am really going to have to think about this book a lot. The evidence they provide is quite profound and makes a lot of sense if you can suspend what you think you know about the evolution of human beings and our sexuality. And let's face it - if we have any big hang-ups, sex has to be on the top of the list. The authors make the case that moving to an agrarian society has more to do with how we bond than with the way we evolved and the "equipment" we evolved with. Lots and lots to ponder and I think it will be hard to find a "discussion" group for this one - I don't know of too many of my friends that would want to "open" up about this topic.

Those are my picks. Would love to hear what you are reading that has you totally absorbed. I am not ready to share my husband, but I am always up for sharing a good read. Happy reading.

I just don't know...making peace with the unknown

Today I am starting a journey of self-discovery in my postings. It isn't pretty and right now, awfully painful. You are welcome to come along for the ride or to bypass this journey altogether. I won't blame you. I have been avoiding it for a long time myself even as I took every step along the path. I like to think of myself as seeing the bright side in everything and to be able to put a funny spin on my story - I have been able to entertain myself along the way. In a way, I have been dancing around the very things that demand my attention because I so want to believe the image I have created and not the reality I face. But I started this blog for a number of reasons and one was to purge the clutter in my brain - my thoughts. These thoughts have long been circling and waiting for a chance to escape.

I am an enabler. Not a small time one, a really BIG one. For many years I have struggled with this and yearned to "correct" the condition. I have gone for counselling, I have changed my behaviour, I have analyzed, I have prayed, I have sought comfort in the support of friends and family - I have done so many things to "fix" the problem. What I haven't done much of is identify what is driving me to enable and how self-centered I am in my enabling. Here is what I have learned about myself so far.

I want to be seen as the "good" mother who helps. A few years ago I finished that sentence for myself. Help what? Help the person avoid responsibility? Help the person stay comfortable in their addiction? Help the person see me as their hero? When I finished the sentence, I didn't like what I heard. I had deceived myself into thinking that if I did something it would be helpful. Why? Did I really think I had all the answers? Did I think I could predict or change the future by doing something for them? Did I think I had the expertise and objectivity to really assess what was going on and how best to intercede? Did I think if I helped I could at least placate my soul that cried in anguish at its utter helplessness?

Did I really think it was all about me?

My feelings were hurt, bruised, BATTERED and my mind was in hyper-drive trying to make that go away. In the face of a situation that had no quick solution, no predictability for the future and where my actions as a mother contributed to where this person was I was behaving in a way that made it all about me. I was trying to FEEL better, even if that feeling was based on throwing up my hands and saying "well at least I tried - the rest is up to them." I would go to friends and family and tell them my sad tale. As a social species, we are great at comforting each other in our illusions. We feel the same way - we don't like disharmony and we want so much to "help" each other because it is so UNCOMFORTABLE to watch someone in pain. Our "empathy" kicks in, but sometimes there is no solution or anything that we can do to help. And so the basic instinct is to tell each other that what we have done is for the best. We did the best we could in the circumstances. I was seeking confirmation for my actions and having the great support network I do, they were happy to oblige. I wanted to be comforted, to KNOW that I was the best mother I could be, that hindsight is always 20-20 and so it is unhelpful to look back at those mistakes and acknowledge them. "You did the best you could with what you knew at the time." True - all so very true and I would say the same to anyone else experiencing distress. But did that mean it was the BEST thing to do given the circumstances. Probably not. I made a mistake - I made plenty of mistakes and what made it worse was that I couldn't correct those mistakes. And regret is an even worse place to be...

But again, it was all about me. Why was I trying to placate myself, to prop up an image of the "good" mother. Why in this situation was that so important? Why couldn't I let that one go? I am still struggling with this one. What I did decide is that I had to finish the sentence. If I am going to make this about me, I wanted it to be about my choices that were based on the other, not on keeping me from feeling hurt. I needed to get to the heart...no matter how imperfectly my love may be for this person, I wanted to help them get well. I wanted to support their healing. I wanted to help them get treatment for a disease that affects so many and ravages their body, their mind, their very soul. Addiction is deadly.

So what could I do? I could keep that mantra in my mind - I want to support/help your wellness. What would that look like? Over the years I have put up boundaries, not for that person, for me - boundaries that prevent me from being sucked into my void of helplessness and hurt, but to really think about what I can do that will support the choice I have made. I needed time to assess new information and see if I need to "change" my mind, to integrate new knowledge that may contradict my beliefs. And at the end of the day I need to make peace with the unknown. I need to acknowledge that I don't have the answers, I am not the hero in this story, I just don't know. I know that I may choose to do nothing - to not give money, to not pay for another month's rent, to not buy clothing to not do a whole lot of things. While I may have decided that it fits with my choice of not making them comfortable in their illness thus avoiding treatment, I don't know if that will help and that FEELS horrible.

And I have to get away from wanting that soother to suck on, the one that keeps feeding my self-esteem. I don't know what is going to happen. I can't even guess. I don't know, I don't know, I don't know.....and that HURTS. My pain is real and raw and I am just going to let myself feel that. I don't know if this will last for the rest of my life or if it will go away tomorrow. It doesn't matter anymore. I am part of the great unknown and I know I have plenty of company here - not many answers.

Is that okay? I don't know, why do I even ask myself that? What will it help? I am who I am - a combination of my genes and my experiences. I will continue to do what we all have been doing. I am using that combination to navigate the journey of life that has no clear destination. There is no map, there is no guide. There are only choices along the way. I have no control, it has always been an illusion. I can't control the outcome for me or for anyone else. I can only choose in each and every moment of the journey. I have made mistakes that have gained me insight that has deposited me here, right now. I have met incredible people along the way who have shared their knowledge and walked with me a ways. The journey has been incredibly rich and filled with lots and lots of LOVE. If that is what I have to go on....I will be okay. My feelings/self-esteem may suffer but I will be okay.

To all of you who have been incredibly patient, who have reached out to comfort, who have walked with me a ways - THANK YOU. It is the knowledge that I am loved that sustains me in my darkest moments, the light that reaches out and lets me know that no matter how lonely the journey is, I am not alone.

Does this last bit contradict everything else I said - I don't know and I am okay with that right now. May you find peace with the unknown today.

Love of a mother....the best feeling. I am feeling the LOVE today - Valentine's Day.

It is Valentine's Day and I did the one thing that I knew would make my day. I phoned my mom. My mom makes every phone call a special one. When she says "hello" and I say, "Hi Mom, it's me, Edith, your daughter", she responds with a full throated, "Eeeeedith" every time. I wish you could hear it because it is the nicest way anyone could ever say someone's name (with the exception of my husband who is pretty good at saying my name when he has that twinkle in his eye...). As soon as mom says my name like that I get the warmest feeling there is, that feeling that I am LOVED with a capital "L" and that I am the most special person in the world.

I can't help but smile and that smile starts at the tip of my toes and goes all the way up to the top of my head. I don't just smile - I beam! I can feel the light inside me burst out and connect to that awesome light my mom is sending me. It might be because I have lived far away from home for all of my adult life that a phone call to mom is so special or it might be that in her transformation due to alzheimer's that every moment is all there is and she puts every ounce of her focus into what she is doing. What I do know is that all the love she has for me and more comes through and I am given the greatest gift of all.

And that gift that mom gives to me is there every day and in every moment. Being loved unconditionally is the gift that always keeps giving. Her love fills me and I just have to let myself accept her wonderful embrace. I can feel those arms 3,000 kms away just like she was right here.

Today on Valentine's Day I wish I could help everyone feel that love. My mom might be the vessel of that loving embrace for me, but the source of all that love is there in each of us. God's love is always there and patiently waiting for all of us to let ourselves feel that tender and caressing hug - a mother's hug that lets you know you are special, you are LOVED.

May you feel the LOVE and be the LOVE today. Happy Valentine's Day.

Water....Flowing Water....The Meaning of Life (for now...)

Recently we spent a weekend outside of Victoria up on a mountain. Besides the great people we went with, the beautiful house we stayed in and the wonderful views, there was water running down the mountain close by. Every morning when I went for my run to explore I would stop with my little camera and snap away at the beauty of this water. Having a camera has taught me that you can never "capture" beauty, you can only get a "piece" of a moment. With water it is even more pronounced as you watch it flow away no matter how trigger happy you are.

I had to try anyways. Do you ever have something that "calls" you? Water does to me. Not just any water. Water that is running, flowing, tinkling, rushing - water that is moving on calls my name and I respond. As soon as I can hear it I want to see it and now with the camera, I want to "capture" the movement.

I want what this water has. It is freely moving through the landscape. It meets up with others to run together to make something and it keeps on going. Change is constant and yet it keeps flowing freely. Sometimes it collects to hang out in a small pool until the one drop needed to make it overflow happens and the water is on the move again. It forever changes the landscape it passes through without stopping to make it "just right". The water nourishes as it runs along giving life to so many things without stopping for praise.

Maybe water knows it has this inner beauty, content to be a part of something bigger than itself. Maybe water knows it is here to serve and joyously runs along into every unknown with complete faith. Maybe it just "is" and doesn't need to contemplate the meaning at all.

And I think that's what I am meant to absorb. Meaning is only relevant in our minds. Meaning is our little universe which is only part of the whole and we have to leave our little "i" to flow with the life we are a part of. We need to joyously move into the unknown with faith and with utter abandonment. The thoughts we have are like the pictures I take with my camera -- it is just a "piece" and a "piece" that is immediately in the past. The beauty of our lives and all of creation is something we can't capture. Life is a verb - it is to be LIVED, one moment at a time.

I am going to be the water today, go with the flow and LIVE...

A quickie.....post I mean.

What do you get when you combine that time of life with that time of year and that time of the month? One cranky, crabby, ornery woman (my spell check listed hornier when I hovered over ornery the way I spelled it the first time - was that ever wrong!).

Perimenopause during the dark and cold days of winter with an erratic cycle thrown in for good measure makes for poor companions. Fortunately for Pat he works all day and with the snow we have been getting, he shovels outside for most of the evening and can avoid spending too much time with the "monster" in the house. The other good part is that he is maturing well - a good sign is that he is learning how to keep his mouth shut when I can't.

You know you are moody when you can't even stand to be around yourself. That's how it has been for the past two weeks. Every morning is a challenge to drag myself out of bed and face the day. Being with myself is more company than I care to have. I would have been happy if I could have ditched myself. But that is the problem, you never can run away from yourself.

So if you follow my blog and wondered why I hadn't posted anything in two weeks, it wasn't from lack of trying. Every time I went to write something it ended up being an irrational rant that even I couldn't stand listening to. I started and stopped more times than I care to remember and even now the "draft" postings haunt me in the sidelines as I write this post.

I know things are looking up. Life doesn't seem as horrible, the little things that happen not as dramatic and the smiles I give are not being forced upon my face. I'm not growling as much and I am remembering to be thankful for life. What helped? The sun coming out for the past two days, the weather warming up, the daily runs I take, getting 7-8 hours of sleep every night, eating well, sticking to routines, keeping up with work, reading a good book, social gatherings with friends, a day of relaxation once per week and a very loving and understanding husband.

The other thing that helped is age. That's right AGE! Experience does help a lot. I know that I will get through this, I know that things will change, I know that I am being irrational and I just have to let it run its course. A good and wise friend said, you have to let yourself feel so the feeling can move on. Resistance is futile (and a waste of the little energy you have). You are in a funk and you have to let the funk happen so it doesn't linger longer than it should. Like the weather in Alberta - if you don't like it, wait five minutes and it will change. The waiting is the part that is challenging and like so many challenges, rewarding when you finally reach the light. I can see the light again.

So a quickie for now (Pat's hoping that translates into more than a post!). I am going to sit here and absorb that life-giving light. Have a great week.