lady in waiting...

Fear is such a funny thing. I wouldn’t say that I’m afraid of a lot of things but the few things that I am afraid of…I’m deeply afraid of them! Thunderstorms, cancer, the colour yellow…you know, all of the perfectly normal and logical things to fear in life!! Generally speaking, when I’m afraid of something, I just avoid it; I avoid thinking about it, I avoid learning about it and most of all, I certainly avoid confronting it. Not to say that this is the healthy way of managing fear (I’m sure that most psychologist would agree) but I won’t lie…it works for me and you know what they say; “if it ain’t broke…”

There is the odd occasion though, from time to time, when I’m motivated to swallow my fear, take a deep breath and move forward in spite of it. It’s rare but this past weekend was one of them!

One of my good friends is expecting her second child in May and she asked me if I would come over and take some pictures of her and her family before their newest addition arrives. At first thought, I glimmered at the idea of taking pictures for them…but that was before she suggested taking them at her house!! This is the moment in which my irrational fear of indoor photography grabbed hold of me and went directly for the jugular!!! There is certainly no hiding my fear of indoor photography; artificial light can be so daunting and unpredictable, and can often leave you with some pretty mortifying results to show for it {insert dark shadows due to poor angles here!!!} but…there is also no hiding the fact that this is one of my most favourite families in the entire world and there are few things as flattering as being asked to photograph them together as they anticipate the new miracle entering their lives.

So I did it! I walked into their house, bad lighting and all, told my fear to take a hike for a few hours and did my very best to do justice to this fabulous family. And what a family they are…we had so much fun hanging out in the baby’s room, playing with blocks and of course, learning that it pays to tackle your fears head on… even if it is only for a couple of hours!

the single moment...

I remember many years ago looking at a National Geographic magazine and one of the photographs was an award winning image taken in Ethiopia. It was part of a collection intended to profile those enduring the famines in Africa. It was sad.

This picture in particular was of a small child that had been on route to a shelter and collapsed part way. Curled up in the fetal position, the child just laid there naked on the cracked, dry soil while vultures flew up above and waited for him to die. I remember thinking how devastating it must have been for that photographer to watch this moment…to be a part of this moment…to capture this moment.

It compelled me to read up on the photographer a bit and as it turned out, the photographers on site were actually given very strict orders not to touch any of the children as their immune systems were so depleted that even the most harmless of our germs could cause serious illness. It broke my heart to read it and without a doubt, it was even more excruciating to witness in person. The photograph ended up winning one of the world’s most prestigious awards and shortly there after, the photographer killed himself. The guilt and grief of having to watch this child die was more than his soul could handle.

I remember telling myself afterwards that if I were ever so privileged as to capture moments that intimate…I would pray that God would let them be moments of joy instead. As I take more pictures, I also realize a bit more that there are moments in which I feel I should look away; moments that seem too private for me to be seeing them through a lens. That being said though…those are also the moments that make being there such a gift…being there to take a split second and turn it into something eternal. That is why I love photography.

That is also why I love this picture that I captured of my dear friend and her daughter over the weekend; what an honour to be present during this brief moment…

caught in the act...

I was working on my photography website yesterday (did I mention that I was creating one? It will soon be here!), and as I was playing around with the design of the “about me” page, I realized that I didn’t have any good pictures of me with a camera! That’s kind of the thing with being the photographer…you’re generally behind the camera!

Low and behold though, Christina sent these to me this morning; “action shots” from our weekend in Toronto! Talk about aiming to please!!

{Christina…I would also like a million dollars!}

So here they are…the first shots of me getting down and dirty for my craft! It’s such a hard life being surrounded by beautiful people…

a day at the distillery...

Toronto; an economic powerhouse for our country; our provincial capital; a tourist hotspot and despite having spent quite a bit of time there when I was young, it’s also a city that I’m not a big fan of! We used to travel there often when I was a little girl to visit family and even now, decades later, I still feel the same way; too big, too busy, too many people who should be in anger management classes instead of behind the wheel! That being said, I’ve driven through it…but seldom ever send a postcard!

I have a problem now though…over the past years, months, days…the city has taken a number of the people that I love hostage!!! Whether it be due to family, work or a combination of the two, one by one, they are being plucked from me and taken to Toronto!! And because I love my friends more than I dislike Toronto, I felt that it was time for a little truce!!!!

So this past weekend, I packed up our car and made the four hour drive to visit my nearest and dearest! Because there were so many of us coming from different directions, the big question was “what do we do for the one afternoon that we have together?” Our question was easily answered by suggesting a meeting place in Toronto’s historic Distillery District where all of my friends could play dress up for me and I could spend hours in one of my favourite places…behind the camera!

So we met up at Balzac’s with coffee in hand, ready to make our few hours together rock; Olivia and Josh melted my heart (it wouldn’t be the first time!); Christina and Jason reminded me of how much fun it is to photograph true love; Joanne was her usual stunning self and even though she was plagued with a rotten cold, Sara still made it out to offer her moral support!

Bottom line; my friends are amazing! Some people may make more money than me, have a bigger house than me or have nicer clothes than me…but they don’t have my friends and frankly, they are about as good as they get and so worth braving Toronto traffic for!

Needless to say that an afternoon together just wasn’t enough but thankfully, 325 raw files and four hours of post-production later...we do find ourselves with a little something to remember it by…

For more pictures from our day at the Distillery, click here.

just because she can...

haunted...

Do you believe in ghosts?

I know that we’ve all sat around campfires in our younger days scaring ourselves out of our wits telling urban legends about flesh eating neighbors living under our beds. But now that we’re all a little bit older and wiser, where do we all stand on the whole “spirits lurking among us” thing?!?!

When I was about fifteen years old, I spent my summer at ranch just outside of London. As a counselor in training that year, I had spent nearly two and half months doing everything from kitchen duty, riding instructor and of course, camp counselor for the hundreds of kids that came to stay with us in the woods for weeks at a time.

The ranch was set on 220 acres of land, including wooded areas and cornfields. Each camping area was tucked away in different parts of the ranch to give each group a more private setting once group events were over. There was no doubt that once the sun went down, the ranch was a scary place! Without the light pollution radiating from the city, the ranch was very dark at night and no amount of flashlights ever seemed to make it better!

One night in early August, I was co-counseling a group of eleven year-old girls for two weeks. Each of us counselors were required, throughout each camp session, to take turns monitoring the sites after dark. The girl’s site was the closest to the camp lodge but still far enough away that it would give you a run for your money if you needed to use the washroom in the middle of night. Our site, unlike most of the others, was protected by the shelter of enormous maple trees that had a small clearing just in the middle of them. While this provided a welcome canopy during the rainy days of summer, it also made the perfect home for the many things that go bump in the night. The nocturnal happenings of the woods were certainly more alive under the trees and became one of the scariest places that I endured during my childhood!

Late one night while I happen to be on monitoring duty, another counselor came back to their tent to call it a night. Given that it was going to take her a couple of minutes to settle in, I asked her if she would mind taking over for me while I ran to the lodge to use the washroom and grab a drink. So, flashlight in hand, I took a deep breath and made my way through the dark woods to the lodge. Every step that I took made the leaves and branches crinkle under my feet and my heart start beating a little faster. It was impossible to get around the site without perpetually thinking that someone was trailing close behind you (and, if my imagination had anything to do with it, it was almost always someone of the “knife-wielding-camp-counselor-abducting” disposition!).

Ten minutes later, I arrived back at the site unharmed and unwilling to return to the lodge regardless of how much my bladder needed it! I quickly went to my co-counselor’s tent to let her know that I had returned and that she was free to peacefully head off to dreamland for the night. Just as I about to pull back the thick canvas flap of her tent, I was startled by a young girl standing right next to me in front of the tent. She was young…too young (maybe eight years-old or so), with long dark hair, extremely sad eyes and a long white night gown nearly reaching the ground. I looked over at her, puzzled as to how she could have sneaked up on me so unexpectedly, and quietly said to her “stay here for one second and I’ll take you back to your tent”.

Desperately wanting to return the little girl to her bed, I quickly poked my head in the tent to let my colleague know that I returned and no more than ten seconds later, I closed the tent flap, turned to take the little girl’s hand and realized that she was gone. She was nowhere to be seen. I glanced around and there was no sight of her. I hadn’t heard her move or enter her tent. She was just…gone.

I didn’t think too much of it at the time but the next morning, as I looked around at the campers during breakfast, I noticed that there wasn’t anyone bearing the same resemblance as her. No one with long, dark hair like hers and certainly no one that looked that young. When I asked around to other counselors, no one remembers any of their campers having any white, frilly nightgowns either. In fact, the standard response was “who would send their kid to camp with something like that anyways?!?!”

Good question. I would have said the same thing myself had I not seen it with my own eyes.

I’ll admit, my eyes could have playing tricks on me and it might not have been real. But it felt real and my brain thought it was real enough for me to actually speak to whatever it was that I was looking at. I’ll also admit that maybe there was in fact a little girl standing there and that in the light of day, every thing just looked different. I honestly don’t know. All I know is that even now, fifteen years later, I still think about it, still believe it and most certainly…still get a little weary of little girls in white dresses!!!

strategic planning...

I’ve been emailing a bit with an old friend of mine from Toronto lately and we’ve been chatting a lot about the transitions of life; the crossroads that we unexpectedly find ourselves at and the options that those crossroads end up leaving us with. In the midst of it all, we’ve found ourselves discussing a lot about what we would like to do and who we would like to become.

I’ve been raised in an environment that is big on “five year plans”. We’ve always been looking ahead, dreaming big and planning ourselves into oblivion...and I’m certainly no exception! I’ve always believed that this is an incredibly important thing to teach young people because an adolescent’s inability to have foresight can end up being a rather inescapable trap later in life (just ask the $10,000 that I spent in three months during my first semester at university!). It’s important to have vision and to see the possibilities of your life…I think in a lot of instances it’s what gets many of us through the day. It sounds cynical but we are a society of planners and many of us live our lives doing nothing but planning! We plan vacations and investments, weddings and family, weekends and retirement. And not only is this not a bad thing but in many ways, it’s a necessary thing. But when exactly do we cross over from planning our lives to outright living our lives waiting and anticipation?

The more my friend and I discussed our future goals and our long term vision, the more I wondered if my constant need to plan is in some ways a detriment to my present fulfillment? In recent years especially, I’ve been working at redefining my life in many ways and much of that involves a great deal of change on my part. Change is good and in my case, change was life saving but I think I’m realizing that there’s also something to be said for acknowledging your present circumstances.

As I write this I recognize the irony of the fact that I expect those that I share my life with to accept me the way I am…so why shouldn’t I do the same? Perhaps the pursuit of betterment is best achieved by embracing where you currently reside in life in order to better appreciate where you are going.

Having said this, maybe it’s okay that I’m no longer in marathon shape or that I don’t think I’m suited to sitting at a computer all day long. Maybe it’s okay that I love my morning coffee and that the colour yellow scares me. Maybe it’s okay that I look (and feel!) more tired than I would like to and maybe it’s okay to be overwhelmed by my current learning curve. Maybe it’s okay that I love Cadbury mini eggs and don’t like purple foods (except purple mini eggs!). Maybe it’s okay that I love watching reruns of Sex & the City and don’t fully comprehend the problems of the world. Maybe it’s okay that I don’t understand why our remote control has to have so many buttons and I think math is hard. Maybe it’s okay that I’m moved by beautiful things and that I often judge a book by its cover (literally!). Maybe it’s okay that I still want to do great things with my life and it’s okay to think that I already have. Maybe it’s okay to not like flying over the ocean and it’s okay to enjoy playing with fire (but it’s not okay to do so in the house!). Maybe it’s okay that I didn’t survive the entire season of Lent and maybe it’s okay that I never really wanted to to begin with. Maybe it’s okay that I wish music played in the background every time I walked outside. Maybe it’s okay that I don’t like to get dirty but I like to leave my clothes on the floor. Maybe it’s okay for me to feel insecure sometimes and to want to be different. Maybe it’s okay to be torn between faith and religion and it’s okay to ask why. Maybe it’s okay to wish you were here and wonder why you’re not. Maybe it’s okay for me to believe in magic, miracles and astrology all at the same time.

And maybe…just maybe…in order for me to become the me that I want to be tomorrow…I need to embrace the me that I am today.

in conclusion...

I’ve decided that giving up coffee for Lent is stupid!

What was I thinking? Seriously…

The world is in no way a better place because I don’t have a peppermint mocha in my hand.

Honestly…who came up with this crappy idea in the first place?!?!

Feel free to judge my lack of discipline if you like but frankly...what's good for my mental health is, by default, good for your mental health!!!

let's get it on...

I was going through some old cds a few weekends ago and came upon a mix that a guy had once made for me back in the day! I actually remember getting it in the mail one afternoon at work with a little note attached to it that said “Will you have dinner with me on Friday night?”

I had met him at a bar the previous weekend while out with some friends and we started talking about music. Somehow, our conversation shifted to a debate about what constitutes the very best “make-out music”. I voted for rock music and he argued melodic R&B tunes were the only way to go. Three days later, he pleaded his case with an invitation to dinner! I’ll admit…it was such a cute approach and it’s very possible that he may have slightly won me over in the end!

Coming across his cd recently sparked the question in my mind again. I still think that rock music prevails when it comes to making out but there’s also no denying that some people’s clothes seem to spontaneously vanish just listening to Marvin Gaye (he's just that good!)! And so I wonder…what are the ultimate make-out songs??

I wondered so much in fact that I felt compelled to create my own top ten list of make-out songs! Feel free to use it anytime if you’re thinking of asking someone out for dinner!!!

In no particular order…

1. Witness by Sarah McLachlan
2. Disarm by The Smashing Pumpkins
3. Creep by Stone Temple Pilots
4. Destiny by Zero Seven
5. Breakdown by Seether
6. With or Without You by U2
7. The Red by Chevelle
8. It’s Been Awhile by Staind
9. Save Yourself by Sensefield
10. Soul to Squeeze by Red Hot Chili Peppers

my helium...

I’m starting to wonder if I’m in the wrong line of work!

A while back (a long while!), I wrote a post about how I joined the online writer’s network called Helium. It’s a place for writers to go, submit their work and have it rated by their peers. All pieces are anonymously and randomly rated within the category that it was submitted to and other writers can comment as they rate. It’s really a great tool for receiving objective feedback about your craft.

The best part is that Helium is also used as a marketplace for publishers who don’t want to wait for submissions. Writers are “classified” based on their writing statistics (which is determined by your overall ratings) and this enables publishers to browse articles classified by any number of calibers. It’s truly a very intricate and incredibly large network of critiquing that allows writers to determine which of their peers they feel have the most merit. I always find myself feeling a little bit bad when I rate someone’s work because as far as I’m concerned, just contributing to the craft earns merit in and of itself.

So, after submitting my initial two articles to Helium, I got distracted by life and didn’t really end up going back. A couple of weeks ago I decided to dust off my username and jump back into the game. In turn, I felt ambitious and submitted another ten articles!

I think that I should take this opportunity to mention that I don’t really enjoy criticism very much!!! While some people go out of their way to receive feedback on their contributions to the world…I prefer to go on the basis of “no news is good news!” So the idea of submitting work for the sole purpose of it being critiqued does leave me in a frenzy of anxiety!! Every time I type in my password to log onto my account, my heart starts beating a little faster, the breath quickens and I find myself wondering why exactly I ever thought that this was a good idea!

I braved all of my physiological responses yesterday though and logged back on to my account. As it turns out, the gods of “pick one or the other” seemed to be in my favour and it appears that I may have missed my calling; not only have my articles been really well received by my peers but three of them have been ranked as the top article in their category (two of those being book reviews!)!

Yesterday’s blog post is ranked second as of this morning and this article is currently ranked 5th out of 105 submitted articles. And if that weren’t enough…I’ve been named as one of Helium’s Premium Writers, the highest honour given to Helium writers for visiting publishers searching the marketplace.

I’ve never actually submitted any work for publication before but I’m starting to wonder if it might be worth my while to do so!

It would be like sweet retribution for all the times that no one wanted me on their team for trivial pursuit!!!

breaking up is hard to do...

Last night, on our way home from work, we were listening to the radio when some commercial came on for a local company. The name of the company was also the last name of a guy that I dated back in University so I couldn’t help but wonder how he was doing. We hadn’t really seen each other since we stopped dating so I had no idea what he had been up to for the past decade. In this day and age, the first obvious place to look was facebook and sure enough, there he was, skydiving in his profile picture!!

Needless to say that it was a lot of fun catching up on his life in recent years. It’s equally hard to believe that this was a guy I met at a restaurant one day who ended up bringing me a dozen roses…a guy that I had to write theories of communications papers with and whose phone calls gave me butterflies. Now, here I was looking at pictures of his daughter (who, might I add, is among the most stunning little girls that I’ve ever seen!) and sharing stories of our weddings. My, how we’ve grown!

Catching up with him kind of made me think of how similar facebook is to the real world of dating in some ways; it’s our social resume for the new generation! Kind of like when he and I first started dating, facebook is about showing our best side to the world; it’s a tally of our best pictures, golden moments, glowing achievements and of course, visual proof of our social acceptance in the world (the more “friends” the better, right?). I was hesitant to join facebook for a long time…but it just kept calling me over and over again! Even though I said no, I felt the need to give it a chance…after all, persistence is flattering!

The beginning of my relationship with facebook was just like any new relationship; countless hours spent together at night learning all about each other… weeks go by and you realized that you haven’t done your laundry or spoken to any of your family. Eventually, you discover that you’re knee deep in lust and the addiction is intoxicating. Before long you find that you can’t go more than a couple of hours without getting your fix!!! Now here we are, two years later and still going strong!!!! Or is it? Many relationships look prettier from the outside and it’s certainly easy to make life appear delightful through the eyes of our daily status!

It took me a little while to figure it out but my relationship with facebook provided a rather false sense of connection. It turns out that facebook was a bit of a player!! “It’s complicated” as they would say but to be fair, who doesn’t love getting two hundred birthday wishes on your wall?!?! It wasn’t until one day when my seemingly innocent status got used as a reason to create drama that I realized I needed to break up with facebook to some extent. The same way my old flame and I hadn’t really worked out in the end, I found that facebook and I needed to talk. “It’s not you…it’s me”, I said! Of course I was lured by its memories of days gone by and endless possibilities. The seduction of so many pictures and a wall full of validation is hard to resist…but it was time! So I did the great purge…the cleansing of my social circle from 300+ “friends” to the 50 people that would understand that “you’re sweet like candy to my soul” is really a nod to Dave Matthews and a not a secret invitation to run away to Mexico with me! Parting ways is never easy…especially when you’ve had as much fun as we have, so I’ve agreed to still have a date or two. We even spent a good twenty minutes together before work this morning! What can I say…attraction is hard to get over sometimes!

So I guess you could say that facebook and I are still seeing each other from time to time, but we’re not exclusive! In fact, I’ve even gone back to using my hotmail account more often, sending snail mail every now and then, and {dare I say it} visiting face to face!!!

But I’ve been very clear that in no way does this constitute cheating on my part!

singing in the rain...

ugh...

It’s raining today. In February.

I’m sure that this may not sound surprising to some but this is Ottawa. It doesn’t rain in Ottawa in February! Normally, we would either be buried in four feet of snow or enduring temperatures that are so cold, it’s not actually able to snow! But it never rains!

I’ve been home sick for the past two days and ending the week on a rainy note seems appropriate in its own lazy and lethargic way. Being sick is really frustrating to me because I’m normally such a busy and active person that the idea of being cooped up and forced to sit on the couch just upsets me! Ironically enough though, in the midst of my healthy, busy life…I often catch myself thinking how dreamy it would be to have an afternoon to just sit on my couch doing nothing. Funny.

Given that I was caged at home, I took the opportunity to watch countless episodes of Sex & the City. I have to admit…it was fun! I started watching it back when I was still single and living on my own. I happen to be at the video store one night when I stumbled upon it. It was a really hot summer night in mid-July and I had just come home from having dinner with some friends. It was already late but for some reason, the night hawk in me felt compelled to stop and rent a video on my way home. I can remember sitting in my sweltering bachelor apartment, with my curtains blowing in the breeze, until all hours of the night. Long after the rest of the neighborhood had gone to sleep, I found myself perched up in my bed with my favourite ice cream in hand, laughing hysterically at the dating mishaps of my new friends.

And so it began. The girls have been a permanent structure in my life ever since and they never fail to remind me of those long summer nights when I lived vicariously through them on the streets of New York City. Of course, watching it curled up with a heating pad and a sore throat isn’t quite the same but it does bring some cheer to an otherwise miserable reason to not be at work!

Thanks girls…you’re fabulous!

ash wednesday...

I was very surprised last week when I got an invitation to attend an Ash Wednesday service at our church. Could it be that Lent was here already? Sure enough, a quick glance at my calendar reminded me that it was indeed that time of year!

I always love Lent. I consider it a bit of a “second chance” for all of the resolutions that fail to last much beyond February! It was six years ago that I did my first communion in the Catholic Church and Lent was the last stretch of a year spent contemplating and questioning.

I get asked a lot why I chose to do such a thing as an adult. So many people are turned off by the church and for those that weren’t raised in religious families; it seems even harder for them to comprehend why I would make the conscious decision to pursue religion at all.

The only answer that I can provide is that I didn’t choose the Catholic Church…it chose me.

As “vague” as that may sound…it’s true! I used to go into churches all the time when I was young. I would sneak in when no one else was there and just sit in the pews for as long as I could. I was captivated by the silence and the peacefulness. I felt as though it literally radiated grace.

It didn’t go to my first Mass until the year prior to my communion and after that, there was no turning back. I proceeded to spend the next year preparing myself to join the church. It wasn’t always an easy road; some days I left in tears and other times I left in doubt but at the end of the day, the month, the year…I left a better person. I wasn’t just a better person for having followed through but more so for having challenged myself along the way.

I find that a lot of people bail on things at the first sight of imperfection; the first tinge of uncertainty or conflict, whether it be internally or not. I think that we tend to surround ourselves with things that support our beliefs and not often enough, allow someone or something to question the very things that hold us together. The more challenged I was…the stronger my conviction became, though certainly not without plenty of consideration. Some issues were harder (and still are) to grapple with than others but ultimately…it is an imperfect institution made of imperfect people that has made me, a better person.

But alas, I digress…

Lent is here and it’s time to pull out the more disciplined side of our selves, which for me, isn’t always easy! I’m a girl who really responds well to structure and limits but deprivation…not so much! Even though it’s only forty days, the very thought of what I’m not allowed to have tends to leave me craving it even more. Though I suppose that is indeed the entire point! I’ve decided to give up coffee this year for Lent. Believe me, I’m not thrilled about this but I feel the need to make up for our lack of participation during last year’s Lenten season! It was almost shameful how indulgent we were last year! Between our house, our trip and all the wonderful food in between...it may have actually become the first official "anti-Lent"! Truth be told, while I certainly love my morning mocha on the way to work, I’m also eager to give my body a break from the artificial vitality that comes with coffee. I figured that with all of the other changes I’m making in my life right now, letting my body go back to it’s natural rhythm for a while seems appropriate.

Now, I say this having been only two days into Lent…but we’ll see how delightful an idea it really is in another two weeks!!! We’ll also see how delighted my co-workers are with the idea in two weeks!!!

I think that there was a reason why Jesus spent forty days in the desert alone…

the confidence of youth...

Did you know that I used to figure skate when I was younger?

I have been in love with the sport for as long as I could remember. As a little girl, I found myself mesmerized by the elegance of such a sport. I just couldn’t get enough of the speed, the gracefulness, the music…it seemed like the perfect union of art and athleticism, and it was certainly all too much for my little self to bear. So I started skating.

I have a picture of myself as a child bundled up in my snow suit, delicately balancing myself on the ice and having the biggest smile a four year old could possibly muster up. It turned out to be just one of many photos proving that being on the ice was one of my happiest places.

I spent a good few years skating as much as I could get away with; I would watch countless hours of tapes so I could see spins and jumps in slow motion; During high school, we had an outdoor rink across the street from us and any moment that wasn’t spent in class was spent there; Almost each night of the week, my Mom would drive me around to free skates at various arenas in town and spend two hours in the cold while I spun myself in circles determined to get each move right. Collectively, my parents nurtured my passion as though it was one of their own!

What compels me to think about this though is the fact that I didn’t have a coach or any formal training at all. In fact, just about all the odds for a competitive career were against me; most skaters are very small and petite…I was very tall and lengthy; most skaters start training at six or seven years of age…I was already in high school. And yet, all the while, it never occurred to me that I wouldn’t be able to do it. In fact, I don’t even remember caring at all what the “conventional” course of a skater’s career was…I just wanted to learn.

In time, I did end up getting formally trained and I also spent one evening sharing the ice with some of our country’s most celebrated figure skaters! In time, injury also prevailed and choices had to be made. In the end though, I’m well aware that it was my desire skate and not my fear of failure that enabled my love affair to exist at all.

Looking back, this fascinates me because I’ve discovered that I’ve grown out of this confidence. Sadly, I consider more the probability of something instead of the possibility and I realize now just how dangerous that can be. In my younger days, I just thought “someone has to do it…why not me?” and on I went…and it worked. I propelled myself into a determination that left no other options. It wasn’t necessarily the most conventional or the easiest…but it was my five loaves and two fishes; it’s what I had to offer at the time and God provided the rest.

I’m trying really hard to find that part of me again. My new endeavor, albeit exciting, feels so intimidating and overwhelming sometimes and I just want to find that unwavering conviction that that tells me anything is possible again. Learning something new as an adult seems so much scarier and daunting than it once did, and fear, in and of itself, provides its own obstacle when trying to acquire new knowledge. I feel like everyone around me knows so much more and that the only thing that I really do know…is that I have so much more I need to learn. This isn’t as encouraging a thought as it once was when I had fifteen extra years to learn it!!

Ah well…as Vincent Van Gogh once said “For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.”

more camera happy...

camera happy...

I took this picture yesterday on my way to meet Steve after work. I was passing Major's Hill Park on my way across the river when I felt compelled to stop and get my camera out. What I love most about it is that if I had zoomed out just the tiniest bit, the picture would have been filled with buildings from Gatineau and downtown Ottawa!

I just love our city!

my happiness...

One day when I was about nine or ten years old, I dragged my little cousin out to the local park in our neighborhood with me so I could take pictures. I had been given a dinky little disposable camera earlier that week and I couldn’t wait to use it. My poor cousin was so patient with me and at the tender age of five years old…that’s a lot to ask! The pictures were awful! Truly…they were just terrible! But I continued to love beautiful images and spent my life staring at them longingly.

I have an entire box full of totally random pictures that I’ve pulled out of magazines for the last ten years. I had no reason for keeping them other than the fact that they were beautiful and I couldn’t live without them. Steve and I collect photography from all over the world and have filled our home with images that someone else once saw and thought to capture. Photographs have permeated my life and sometimes, without me even knowing it!

I have to admit though that since I was young, I’ve seldom picked up a camera. My Mom gave me a beautiful camera when I graduated from university and I gave it back to her because it stressed me out to have it and not know how to use it…but I never bothered to learn! Even when we bought our SLR camera, it took me months before I would even go near it. I was afraid. I was afraid of not being good at it. It’s hard to explain but I was afraid of loving something so much and not being able to contribute to it in my own way. I seemed easier to me to imagine that I would be good at it then risk the possibility of actually being bad at it! I know, it’s not easy to rationalize but for lack of a better explanation, my camera scared me...it still does sometimes!

A couple of years ago, my sister-in-law was getting married and asked me if I would take pictures of her wedding. Terrifying? Yes. A sister that I can say no to? Not so much. So I agreed, along with my brother-in-law, to tag team her wedding in hopes of capturing images that would somehow do justice to their beautiful occasion.

She loved them! And because she was happy…I was happy! And I had fun! I was happy with my camera in my hand and free reign over everything happening around me.

Here’s the thing though…in the last month or so, I’ve been asked to photograph two more weddings! Back to back weekends in late May and early June. And though the very thought of it makes me want to throw up (because I’m just that nervous)…I can’t seem to say no. How could I? How could I tell the universe that I’m not going to repay my little cousin’s (not so little anymore!) efforts when I was manically clicking away on a disposable camera? It would almost seem rude!

So off I will go, camera in hand, to try to make something beautiful of an even more beautiful day. I will pull myself up by my bootstraps…tell the little girl in me to not be afraid and just let my eyes do the talking.

But still…a shot of tequila couldn’t hurt!

for my texan friend...

"In the depth of winter I have finally learned
that there within me lay an invincible summer."
~ Albert Camus

how do i love thee...

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

I love thee to the level of everyday's

Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.

I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;

I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.

I love thee with a passion put to use

In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

With my lost saints, --- I love thee with the breath,

Smiles, tears, of all my life! --- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)

monkey mind...

I haven’t been sleeping very well this past week. I have, as my favourite author would say, Monkey Mind! When the lights go out, my mind seems to swing from one branch to the next in a flurry of random thought until I suddenly notice that it’s the middle of the night and despite my rapidly closing eyelids, I’m still wide awake! I have a lot on my mind right now and it appears that my conscious is in a rather big hurry to figure these things out. My currently exhausted body is starting to pay the price for it.

Anyways, as I was awake last night, I started to think about my Grandma Mae. It was actually in the midst of reading a new book that made me think of her; Steve was sleeping soundly next to me and when I opened up my book, the spine make a little creaking sound and I could suddenly smell the fresh new pages. I felt like I was instantaneously brought back to my childhood!

My grandmother lived with me and my Mom for awhile when I was in elementary school. Her bedroom was at the front of our house and she had this one chair that she sat in all day long. It was strategically positioned in the corner of her room so that she could look out the front windows onto the street as well as look out her bedroom door at what else was going on in the house. My memories of my grandmother are numerous and plenty but because I was so young, they are also rather selective. My time spent with her was always wonderful but the time that she spent with us in our home was what I remember most.

My grandmother was a hilarious woman! She was always very old to me – very fragile in her own way. Her skin seemed thin, almost translucent, and her frame seemed so tiny. She moved slowly and spoke quietly…she was one of the gentlest people I’ve ever known. Contrary to that though, she also smoked like a chimney, was content to live off a diet made up only of chocolate chip cookies and she could drink anyone under the table! I’m not kidding…this woman knew how to hold her liquor!!

What I remember most though was her love of stories. She loved books and she read all the time. She would sit in her brown chair in the corner with one of her cats on her lap and she would literally read for hours on end, going through countless books at any given time. Her room was always filled with books from the library that had those plastic protective covers on them and the card in the back that had the return due date stamped on them! Her room smelled like books and I loved it!

I’m sure that my love of the written word has so much to do with having had her in my life.

When her eyesight started to go, she acquired this huge magnifying glass with a light on it to help her read. Eventually her eyesight disappeared all together and she was forced to listen to books on tape instead. I know that she still enjoyed the stories but I also know that she missed feeling the pages between her fingers, seeing the words in front of her and most of all, that unique smell of ink on paper. Her hearing faded with the time but she listened to her books on tape until the very end. It was sad for me to know that old age cost my grandmother one of the things that she loved the most. She still had her taste buds though and that meant that she still had her chocolate chip cookies!

So I found myself thinking of her last night as I cracked the spine of my new book. I’m reading Water for Elephants right now. The author, Sara Gruen, grew up in London, Ontario and went to the University of Ottawa…just like me! I wonder if our common journeys and the fact that I received three copies of it for my birthday means someone is trying to tell me something?!?! Clearly, the universe is insistent that I read this and what can I say…I’m always happy to oblige!

My book doesn’t quite smell the same way that my grandmother’s books did but few of them ever do. You have to dig deep in the old piles at the library to get that smell anymore. But I certainly enjoyed my Monkey Mind a little bit more yesterday as I remembered that wonderful woman who unknowingly brought literature and stories into my life.

It’s comforting to know that anytime I feel sleepless in the night, I can simply crack the spine and know that I’m not reading alone. She probably would have been up in the middle of the night too! Reading a good book no doubt!

a million little pieces...

A few years back, I was walking through a bookstore and stumbled upon this book that caught my attention. This is not an unusual occurrence for me as it tends to happen often but usually, I just take note of the book title and add it to my list of “must reads” for the near future. This one captured me though and I bought it right then and there on the spot. I began reading it that night and for the next week, I found myself on an emotional rollercoaster that left me completely captivated by the resilience of the human condition.

This book was called A Million Little Pieces by James Frey. It’s the memoir of a drug addict and his time spent in recovery. Really, it’s about our relationship with ourselves and the circumstances that can arise when we avoid the deep, dark places that our journey can often take us to. It’s riveting. It’s moving. It’s one of my very favourite books.

Shortly after I finished the book, the controversy started. A website called Smoking Gun had apparently uncovered discrepancies regarding some of the facts claimed in the book and this was leaving Oprah Winfrey, who had recently selected the book for her famous Book Club, a little bit disgruntled. Apparently Frey’s memories weren’t as factually accurate as Oprah would have liked and the dispute soon discredited not only an incredible writer but also his spectacular book.

But here’s the thing; this memory is being told by a man who spent a large part of his life highly intoxicated and under the influence of some very powerful drugs. I expect his memories to be somewhat skewed. I expect his memories to be a clouded variation of what really happened. I even expect some of his memories to be completely blocked in a desperate plea for self-preservation. That’s why it’s a memoir…because everyone’s view of the world is being seen through different eyes, with waves of different emotions, leaving us to witness very different moments in time. That is what it means to co-exist in this world together…the ability to merge our collective memories to create an experience of this madness we call life!

How often do two people interact in any given situation coming away from it with completely different experiences? Likely more times than we know! I believe that a great number of the world’s disputes are a result of this very phenomenon…the emotional attachment to our own personal experience that often leaves us reacting to a reality that may only exist to us. Our drug of choice in this case…? A lethal combination of past experiences and present expectations that will inevitably cloud our vision and alter the image before us.

I read once that our emotions are not reliable and shouldn’t be trusted because our emotions do not reflect reality and can lead us down a road that isn’t necessarily built on truth. I see the logic in such a statement but as a woman who feels life very strongly; that’s a pretty tall order! But I can also see how my emotions get me into trouble…how they can take over my entire being until I can see nothing else but my own truth…leaving me with my share of battle scars and searching for my next hit. With emotion running through my veins, in a world made for the sober…what’s a girl to do?!?! What’s any girl to do?

I have lived a life along side many other people…and we are different. Our memories are different, our experiences are different, our resulting character is different…but we are still here, in this life…together. We are all in recovery from something…together. We endure our own form of rehab hoping to be set free…together. And what would we be without that? What would we be without a life to connect us all…without a middle ground to call a truce…without twelve different steps to help lift us up a bit higher to a self that is bit more familiar?

We would be lost. We would be broken. We would be alone in our reality that no one else knows. We would, most definitely, be nothing more than a million little pieces.

25 random things about me...

{for those who aren't on facebook...}

1. When I was a little girl, I used to think that being vegetarian meant that you couldn't eat gummy bears or animal crackers

2. My name (Genevieve) is Gaelic for "White Wave"

3. During a psychological profile done during our marriage prep courses, it was concluded that my animal alter ego is a white wolf

4. I spent an entire year after the release of the movie American Pie being asked if I was related to Shannon Elizabeth

5. I have surprisingly long legs for my height...My husband is three inches taller than me and our legs are the same length!

6. My pet peeves are automated telephone systems and people with weak handshakes

7. My Mom once gave me a psychic reading for my birthday and the lady told me that I had been a very high profile political leader in a past life!

8. If I could live a totally different life without sacrificing anything I love...I would move to Maui and teach surfing (and maybe be in the sequel of Blue Crush while I'm at it!!!!)

9. I have a secret admiration for the inner workings of the drug trade

10. I talk to my cat a lot and there are moments when I'm sure he knows what I'm saying!

11. I want to go to Texas!

12. When I was young, I could recite, word for word, all six hours of the movie Anne of Green Gables (if you don't believe me...ask my Mom! She had to endure the torture of it any time we were in a car for long periods of time!!)

13. I have extreme Obsessive Compulsive Disorder about my hand writing. In university, I would re-write all of my notes after classes and if I made a mistake, instead of using white-out, I would start them all over again.

14. I once met a man named William Wallace!

15. I wish that I had blue eyes

16. Listening to rock music always makes me want to do one of two things; get drunk or run (I just can't explain it!!)!

17. I didn't get my driver's license until I was 25 years old

18. I think that Tom Cruise = CRAZY!

19. I have a rather irrational fear of flying over large bodies of water (that started around the same time I started watching LOST!!)

20. I am so in love with string music that I can seldom listen to it without crying

21. Ever since I was a little girl, I've had constant and repetitive dreams about my teeth falling out

22. I have an uncontrollable addiction to bookstores!

23. I am VERY self-conscious of my smile

24. I ran 863.7 kilometers in 2008 (it was a slow year!)

25. I can't remember life without the internet...

pandora's box...

I’ve been reading a lot about Barack Obama lately and trying to see what this guy is all about. I have to say, the man impresses me! His disposition alone really makes an impression and having spent three years getting a bird’s eye view of politics, I’m interested to see what’s going to unfold in the coming months.

Some friends and I were discussing Obama’s views on abortion recently and found ourselves in the midst of a very interesting debate; Obama appears to be a very Christian man and all the while, he supports the right to choose. This didn’t sit well with many of my friends! Personally, I try to steer clear of this topic because frankly, my own opinion doesn’t sit well with most of my friends either and I do what I can to keep a fair distance between me and the firing squad whenever possible! I guess my issue is that abortion tends to be defined, and judged, as any intentional termination of a pregnancy, regardless of the circumstances. This covers a very broad spectrum of motives; from the teenage girl using abortion as a means of birth control to the woman who, for medical reasons, must choose between her own life and that of her unborn child. It’s a very fine line and there is, in my humble opinion, a great distance between each end.

The debate took a very interesting twist though when we realized that the group discussing the topic was mostly made up of men…a gender that would never and could never experience the result of such decision making in the same capacity as their female counterparts. The question quickly came up about whether or not this should entitle men to the same degree of influence regarding this topic as they would have in matters such as the economy or education? Some men felt that by no means should they have any say at all when it comes to the issue while others strongly felt that men were the only ones who could provide a voice of reason to an otherwise emotionally charged topic.

Personally, I had never given it much thought. I still spend a lot of time just trying to figure out my own feelings regarding the matter nonetheless how much input others should have. Yes, it’s true that a man can never be privy to the physical and emotional experience of being pregnant and in turn, can never experience the grueling agony of having to make such a decision but, on the other hand, there is still a piece of them in that life…in those choices…in the consequences that remain.

And so I’m left baffled at the questions that my friends have managed to stir up and feel compelled to put it out there in the universe to stir things up some more!

So, any thoughts…??

the best of australia...

At this time last year, not only were we packing our boxes to move into our new house, but we were also packing our sunscreen and our passports for our trip to Australia! Visiting the "Sunburnt Country" has been on my list of things to do ever since I was a little girl and when the opportunity presented itself, neither Steve nor I could resist. So, after nearly a year and a half of saving profusely, we booked a month off work and planned our dream adventure!

I did the best I could to capture in words what our trip was like but experiencing it for yourself is genuinely the only way to truly understand what being down under is really like. We came back very different people than when we left...as it tends to be the case with travelling!

We took nearly two thousand pictures while we were in Australia and I started going through them this weekend in hopes of making an album that best sums up our Aussie experience. It was so much fun going through all of them again and remembering what it was like spending an entire month doing brand new things for the first time; We saw kangaroos for the first time and ate crocodile. We bought our first piece of registered art from a good friend of Mel Gibson and we saw the Southern Cross under the most magnificent sky I've ever seen. Travelling changes who you are! And thanks to digital technology...it's now a lot easier to record the transition!

While our pictures in no way do the scenery any justice...they do at least remind me that while all our friends and family were buried in fifty centimetres of wretched snow, we were here...

For the rest of our Australia album, click here.

live your life...

Anyone who followed along during our trip to Australia might remember that for one day, we hopped on a sail boat and spent about ten hours visiting the Great Barrier Reef. Our entire visit to the North Eastern part of Australia was sort of a last minute decision actually. We had originally decided that we would visit either the Outback or the Great Barrier Reef, but didn’t think that we had the time or money to visit both. We figured that since our last trip to Hawaii was tropical, it made more sense to visit Ayers Rock and the Red Center, an environment that neither of us had ever seen before. We couldn’t do it though…we couldn’t get that close to the Reef and not stop by to say hello! So we trimmed a little bit of time here and there, dug down deeper into our already dwindling pockets and managed a short yet amazing visit to one of the most spectacular places on earth.

So early one cloudy Monday morning in April, we got up with the sun and made our way to the Pier in Cairns, Australia. Around 8am, we stepped on our boat, The Passions of Paradise, with about fifty other passengers and began our trek out into the ocean to visit one of the great wonders of the world. As we set out to sea, the skies opened up and gave us a glorious day (and a sunburn to prove it!). Spending the day in close quarters with that many other people gives you the opportunity to make many new friends…and in our case, it also provided the opportunity to witness first hand just how much Europeans enjoy taking their clothes off in public (a blog for another time!)! But for a person like my self, it also offered up the perfect environment for people watching…a hobby that I love immensely!

As we set out to find our location on the Reef, Steve and I spent many hours lounging in the sun along the front of the boat and taking in the rare occasion to be doing…well, nothing! During that time, I noticed three young girls. They must have been in their late teens or early twenties (twenty-one at the most I would say) and the three of them were having the time of their lives! It was so fun watching them throughout the day and remembering what it was like to be that age. I was a very different person at that time in my life and while it wasn’t really that long ago…it certainly seems far in terms of experience. Right away, I noticed that all three of them had identical tattoos on the outside of their right foot. They were pretty tattoos that appeared to be cursive writing. I couldn't figure out what they said at first, but once I did, the blissful state of perfect contentment that they were experiencing suddenly seemed to make perfect sense...

Live Your Life

Live your life! How beautiful is that? Right away, I found my mind screaming out “I want one of those tattoos!” Then I remembered my low tolerance for pain and quickly decided to retract that comment! But these girls were indeed living their lives...you could see it in their faces and I loved it! What I loved most though was the word “your”. Live your life. Not your neighbor’s life or your colleague’s life; not the life your parents may have wanted you to live and not Heidi Klum’s life (as appealing as that may sound!)…but YOUR life, whatever that may be. I think the reason that this has stuck with me so much is because I’m terrible at comparing myself to others and believing that my life needs to look more like theirs. The art of comparison is my addiction of choice and there seems to be, in this world of endless airbrushing and reality television, no end to picking your poison! Even in my every day reality, I am surrounded by truly spectacular women; beautiful, ambitious, talented, successful, adored…you name it and my friends possess it all. And that’s what I love about them. It’s also why I need to be reminded on a regular basis to live MY life…because mine is different than theirs, sometimes by choice, other times not but either way…I’ve learned that it’s a long, slow death trying to be somebody else. Make no mistake about it though , it still hasn’t stopped me from trying!

As inspired as I am by this tattoo that I saw on the other side of the world, I’m also well aware of just how daunting a task this really is. Not so much the living your life part…but more so, the figuring out what your life is really about. How do you want to live your life is the tricky part, at least for me. Even then, knowing is very different than doing. Actually, isn’t doing the hard part of any task or goal? Who ever said that knowledge is power clearly never tried going through Facebook detox!

However, all this being said, the last month has also made me realize that you could very well spend an entire lifetime knowing or wanting or dreaming or waiting and never doing. And this needs to stop, at least for me. I’ll admit that I’m pretty good at achieving the big things but there are little things, day to day things, that I’ve been wanting to tackle for some time and I always find a reason not to. Ironically enough, usually that reason is life itself!

They are all things that are good for me…things that would better my life…things that would better me as a person…things that I don’t want to put off any longer…things that matter. As we stumble through the journey that we laughingly call life…we learn that there is no better time and quite possible, no other time…than now. And so it begins…I’m going to live my life. I’m going to live it more happily…more thoughtfully…more genuinely…more hopefully. I’m going to live more of my life and less of others and hopefully, throughout the process…I’m going to learn a bit more about what exactly that is because at this point...I'm still not sure.

But just so I’m clear…I’m not getting a tattoo!

the window of the soul...

My husband has the most amazing eyes!

I'm sure that most wives would stake that claim as their own, but it's true...they are truly incredible. He argues with me that they are plain and boring but he's wrong! He's got surprisingly long eyelashes and whenever he washes his face or takes a shower, little drops of water will gather at the end of his lashes and I can never seem to take my own eyes off of him.

I have never been more in love with my husband than I have during this past two weeks. This is the first time that Steve and I have experienced this kind of loss together and while you always hope for the best, it's often hard to predict how a couple will react under such circumstances. Sometimes, people become so overwhelmed with their own grief that it's hard to remember you are a part of a marriage. People often cope very differently with grief as well and that, in and of itself, can cause unintentional distance. It think that everyone who enters into marriage anticipates that there will be challenges along the way but I’m thankful to say that Steve and I didn’t let this become one of them. We grieved together and we mourned together but we never lost sight of each other even for a moment. We looked back sadly at the path we were once on, we looked around at the changes that were happening and we looked ahead at the future that’s a bit different than what we had hoped for…but we never took our eyes off each other. I’m humbled by the strength and grace of our marriage and for being a part of this joint force that is so much bigger than either of us.

I hope that when we have kids one day...they have his eyes.

times like these...

I haven’t listened to music much lately in the past couple of weeks, which is odd because I need music the way I need oxygen. Not a single day goes by when I’m not listening to something on my computer at work and then plugged into earphones when I’m walking or running. It’s a rare sight to not see me accompanied with a soundtrack of some kind.

I’ve craved silence though lately. I’ve needed solitude and even the poetic words of my favourite musicians couldn’t pull me out of hiding. I’ll admit…the quiet is nice. Being left alone with my thoughts and emotions has been enlightening and I think in many ways, has helped ease the pain of this process a little bit.

I felt a bit lonely last night though. It seems strange to feel that way when we’ve been completely surrounded by so much love and support but alas, I needed my friends…my other friends…my melodic friends! So I took the ipod from it’s home in the living room, went upstairs to our bedroom, plugged in my earphones and listened to whatever song happen to come on.

Sure enough, I had to laugh when the moment I pressed play, the Foo Fighters enlightened me with this…

I am a one way motorway
I’m the one that drives away
Then follows your back home
I am a street light shining
I’m a wild light blinding bright
Burning off alone

It’s times like these you learn to live again
It’s times like these you give and give again
It’s times like these you learn to love again
It’s times like these time and time again

I am a new day rising
I’m a brand new sky
To hang the stars upon tonight
I am a little divided
Do I stay or run away
And leave it all behind?

It’s times like these you learn to live again
It’s times like these you give and give again
It’s times like these you learn to love again
It’s times like these time and time again

Coincidence? Probably not!

I always knew God was a fan of rock music!!!

{ I need a hug }

awakenings...

“The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away” ~ Job 1:21

I’ve been thinking about this passage a lot lately. I woke up this morning finally starting to feel like myself again. I’ve been a bit anxious about the dark lately and finding myself procrastinating about having to turn off the lights each night. Things always seem harder for me in the dark and it was such a relief to awake this morning realizing that I had finally slept soundly through the night.

When I reflect on all that we’ve been through over the past week, I recognize more and more how hard it is for us humans to deal with the unexpected. Job 1:21 clearly states that the powers that be hold the future in their hands, and yet we are a breed that thrives off having control. We’ve managed to control so much of our lives and our world; we control our climates and our communication, we control our schedules and our need for convenience. We can even control our moods and our sleep patterns through a variety of means. Nature doesn’t play a very strong role in our day to day lives anymore and when something comes along that can’t be controlled with technology or medication, we find ourselves crippled in fear at our inability to let go of the final outcome.

But alas, the Lord gives and the Lord takes away. For better or for worse, this is life. And like Jacob, we struggle with it. We fight with God over it and in the end, we lose. We stumble over ourselves trying to prevent anything from being taken away but why does it have to be such a bad thing? It’s true…the Lord does take away jobs, loved ones and security. But the Lord also takes away fear, doubt and cancer.

As I sit in the midst of the latest that has been taken away, I also realize that it’s small in comparison to what has been given. While our joy and anticipation has been taken away, the necessary strength and courage has been given. While innocence and immediate hope has been taken away, faithfulness and trust has been given. While certainty and confidence were taken away, perspective and gratitude were given.

The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.

Life is really about character and the only way to determine our future is by how we choose to handle the past. A life spent only in blissful perfection is not a life gained by knowledge or growth. Can you fully appreciate the happiness never having experienced the pain? Can you truly leave a mark if you’ve never been inflicted with one?

I’ve decided to take this as a time to grow. I’ve decided that as we cradle our heads in our hands, we will take this experience and add another notch in our belts. It will be yet another battle scar in a life that is uniquely ours. The dust is settling and we are opening our eyes in astonishment at how much life can change so quickly and more so, just how much we can change with it. For all of our controlling tendencies, it’s possible that we don’t give ourselves enough credit.

I remember vividly standing in our shower saying out loud to myself “I don’t think that I can do this” and all the while, suddenly realizing that I was doing this. It was happening and I was okay. It wasn’t pleasant and it wasn’t pretty but the battlefields of life seldom are. But sure enough, I was still breathing and living and surviving and being. Life was happening and so was I. In all of my worst imaginings, I would have been curled on the floor of the shower in a twisted mess of panic and despair. Instead, I breathed, and I breathed, and I breathed again.

And that’s what you do; you breathe and you breathe and you breathe again until one day you wake up feeling more like more yourself because for every restless night there awaits a new awakening.

The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.

voices...

Did you ever have an imaginary friend when you were young?

I spent a lot of time by myself when I was a little girl, mostly because of school; the bus ride was long, the bus stop was far and I usually had a couple of hours to myself before my Mom arrived home from work. I can’t remember how old I was but at one point in time, my Mom and I moved to a newer neighborhood in London and our home was still surrounded by wide open spaces that hadn’t yet been developed. I used to have to walk through a large field to get from my bus stop to our house and the walk was about a kilometer in distance – not far as an adult but certainly a hike for a little kid, especially through an empty field and with a vivid imagination!

It was during this time that I met Penelope. She was my imaginary friend. She was older and wiser and made the time by myself a little less lonely. At first, she was only around during my walks to and from the bus stops. Then she would appear on nights when I would lie awake in my bed unable to sleep. Eventually, she was always just kind of there…lingering by my side. She would talk me out of being scared or help me to mentally prepare myself when I knew I was about to get in trouble for something. She tried to help me with my math homework too but we both knew that was a lost cause!

In grade six, just after my Grandmother died, I started talking to her instead. I would spend countless hours conversing with her and asking for her advice. I missed her immensely and needed someone to listen to me. I needed someone who understood the people around me better than I did and someone who could guide me through the endless web of adolescence. Her absence was difficult for me and talking to her as though she was right next to me made the pain seem more bearable.

It wasn’t until a desperate night in grade eleven that I spoke to the God for the first time. I was tired, in mind and body, and desperately needed my life to be different. The last couple of years had been tumultuous for my Mother and I and few things seemed like they offered any stability anymore. I remember lying in my bed that night sobbing and begging God to make things different. After crying myself to sleep, I awoke the next morning feeling more peaceful than I had in a long time. Life proceeded to get even harder for the next few years but I continued to talk to God and every now and then, I think that He even talked back.

As you can see, I have a long history of hearing voices! Some people call this mental illness and in a mad attempt to convince myself that I’m not a schizophrenic, I prefer to call it the angels assigned to my case! We do a lot of things to ensure that we don’t feel alone in this world and why shouldn’t we? The love that surrounds us isn’t always so obvious and in some ways, these people…these voices, are merely our calmer and more comforting selves stepping in to take over the reigns; Our alter ego, our divine creation, our higher being…the self we long to be but can’t dig ourselves out of our doubt, our fear and our sorrow long enough to uncover them. We often need to hear things from somewhere else in order to truly listen.

I spoke to God a lot this past weekend. I pleaded in desperation for words…any words. I longed for words that weren’t my own and words that could somehow make this better. While I concede that I may be completely delusional, I’m also willing to testify that when I calmed down long enough to be still, I truly felt someone hold my face gently in their hands and whisper in my ear, “This too shall pass.”

Even more miraculous still were the many voices that followed; the very real voices of the people we love, the people who reached out to us in our sorrow and who asked to carry the weight for us. The people who cried with us and the people cried for us. I am overwhelmed at the amount of love that comes from grief and because of that, I am also forced to wonder if part of the reason such things happen at all is to simply remind us that whether we hear voices or not…we are never alone in this world. Never…

matthew 5:4...

Every day after work, I walk across the Alexandria Bridge to meet Steve. His building is just across the river from ours on the Quebec side and while I can see his office from my own office window, we are still parted by the rushing waters of the Ottawa River and technically, a province apart.

Every evening, when I proceed with my fifteen minute walk, I pass the same people and see the same view every time…and I just love it. The sun is often setting in front of me and the city seems so quiet and tranquil. I have seen that same view through various seasons and weather conditions and times during life, and all the while, it’s always comforting to me. The water still rushes from the current and flags still blow in the distance but the ice melts and the trees bloom or the snow falls and the Christmas lights appear. It’s such a comforting example of how things change yet they always stay the same.

I’m not really a person who likes change very much. The older I get, the more open I am to it, but I still love my routine and the consistency of my life…and my walk across the bridge. I often take that time to breathe deeply and spend some time with myself. Often, as I notice the little things that have changed since the last time I was there; the colour of the sky, the amount of traffic, the number of boats in the river…I wonder about the days when I will be more different than the route that I am walking. I wonder how different the world, my world, will look when I’ve changed more than everything around me.

Tonight, as I walk across my bridge to meet Steve, I will be the different one. I am different today then I was the last time I crossed. I will seem like the shift in the scenery and not the view. I will be the difference in the air and not the temperature. And my world will look different. My world does look different. And it hurts.

The Gospel of Matthew says “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted”, and I believe this to be true. I believe that while I will never be the same person crossing that bridge ever again, I also know that it won’t always seem so different. There will come a time when the person that I’ve become over the course of the past four days won’t stand out so much anymore. I believe that the peace I find when I see the air form over the frozen water or the sun reflect off the building windows is the same peace that will make this walk easier each day. Or at the very least, I hope so. I pray so.

There is a part of me that just wants to stand on that bridge for as long as I can. I want to stand there with the cold air blowing in my face and making my skin feel the way the rest of me does. I want to stand there and watch the sun disappear. I want to watch everyone walk by and new people appear. I want proof that I’m not the only one changing.

I want things to stand still for little while so I can remember what it feels like…

five is such a great number...

I just love living in hockey country!!!

(photo courtesy of The Ottawa Citizen)

so long...

It’s the fifth day of the New Year already! I’ll admit that I’m a total sucker for resolutions. I just love the whole idea of clean slate…a beautiful blank calendar not yet filled with bad judgment or less than stellar moments. As Anne Shirley would say “every day is brand new…with no mistakes in it.”

American Industry Author Bill Vaughn once said, “An optimist stays up until midnight to see the New Year in. A pessimist stays up to make sure the old year leaves.” I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve most definitely been both the pessimist and the optimist. Some years it was all I could to put the year behind me and other times, I could hardly wait for the next year’s arrival. I think that this year, I was more nostalgic than anything else. We had such a wonderful and exciting year that it was kind of hard to say goodbye to 2008. Between our first house, our trip of a lifetime to Australia, the adventures of having our house invaded by Tugger and a million little things in between…2008 was good to us. I welcomed some amazing new relationships into my life, was forced to let go of others (sometimes more than once) and was blessed enough to add yet another year to many of the relationships that continue to build. I laughed, I cried, I pleaded and I raised my hands to the heavens time and time again.

It was definitely one of my better years.

This New Year’s Eve though…I got to celebrate the best of both worlds; giving a fond farewell to 2008 with eager anticipation for 2009. Already, I feel like it’s going to be a year of great change and growth. I guess I’m at a time in my life when I’m far less afraid of the unknown and have decided that even in times that don’t turn out exactly the way you planned… “This too…is God”.

I don’t know what 2009 has planned for us but it sounds like a good number to me! Either way, I think that life is what happens when you’re turning the calendar pages!!!

ringing in the new...

Long before Steve and I knew each other, while I was at the University of Ottawa, Steve was living and studying in Toronto. Many, many years later, when we first started dating, he told me a funny story about a friend of his from Residence during their first year...

Apparently, his friend was a big fan of this relatively unknown rock band named the Rainbow Butt Monkeys. As chance would have it, this group was going to be playing at their campus bar and his friend was planning on being the first in line to be there. Well, fortunately for him, the line wasn't very long as there turned out to be more people in the band than there was in the bar! Poor Rainbow Butt Monkeys! But that's what die hard fans do, right? For better or for worse...they stand in line when no one else does!

Last summer, Steve and I were driving to Tilbury for Heather and Roberta's wedding. Any time we pass through Toronto, we take the opportunity to listen to 102.1 The Edge...one of our country's very best radio stations (in my humble opinion!). Not only do they play great music but they have some of the best radio shows I've ever heard, one of which being The Ongoing History of New Music. I believe that this show used to originally be aired only on The Edge but has since been syndicated nationwide. It's just that great!

Anyways, on this particular occassion, when we were driving through Toronto, they were airing a little segment on {wait for it...} the Rainbow Butt Monkeys!! Steve and I couldn't believe our ears and found ourselves completely enthralled in the apparent legacy that they seemed to have left behind. We heard all about their two albums that were released in 1992 and 1995 but the real surprise came when they were finishing up the segment and mentioned "for those of you who aren't really familiar with the Rainbow Butt Monkeys, maybe you'll be more familiar with their new name...Finger Eleven"

Steve and I sat there as astonished as two people driving on the 401 could possibly be to have just found out that the Rainbow Butt Monkeys were in fact, one of our most favourite Canadian rock bands EVER (their songs are numerous and plenty on my running playlist!)! Our 2008 Juno Award Winners for Best Rock Album of the year had to endure a time when their band members outnumbered their fans?!?! Where is that friend of Steve's now?? He deserves a medal!!!!!

Now armed with our new knowledge regarding their complete devotion and patience towards their love of music, our affinity for Finger Eleven has grown exponentially! Really, how could you not love a story like that?!?! So, to show our appreciation in return, we braved the cold Ottawa night in -29 degrees Celcius to ring in the New Year with one of our favourite bands! After they watched Canada beat the U.S. in the World Junior Hockey Championships (apparently they were treated like rock stars or something!!) and we watched on the big screen downtown...we all joined forces on the canal to hear them play some of their greatest songs and warm up the night! As midnight approached, we all counted down, watched the cold night sky light up with fireworks and sporting Team Canada jerseys a plenty, Finger Eleven belted out their famous song Paralyzer (with a little Pink Floyd in the mix!)...and we showed the rest of the country how New Year's Eve should really be done; with great Canadian hockey, great Canadian rock music and great Canadian frostbite!!!!!