LOVE WHAT ARISES

Have you heard this story?  There’s a man on the other side of the world who lives in a tent with his large, extended family. This particular day, the man is overwhelmed by the cramped quarters and goes to speak to an elder.  The elder deeply listens and tells the man to get a chicken and bring it inside with him.  The man finds this odd but gets a chicken because the elder is famous, far and wide, for his wisdom.  A week later the man goes back to the elder and complains that the chicken, with all its flapping, has only added to the chaos in the small tent.  The elder silently nods and tells him to get a puppy. Curious, the man does so, and soon becomes even more frustrated as the puppy takes up space and also needs constant attention.  He describes his nightmare to the elder who then replies: “Hmm, what you really need is a donkey, if it’s inside with you, everything will work out.” One more time, the man trusts in the elder and follows directions.  A few days later, the tent is not only busting at the seams, it also stinks, and by the way, his favorite slippers, the only true luxury he had left, were chewed to pieces.  The man goes outside for fresh air and just then, the elder passes by. 

“You see what’s going on here,” the man exclaims incredulously.

“Perfect,” says the elder. “See me in a week.”

The man, hoping the elder has spotted something, counts the days until the flapping, nipping, stinking mess ends.  Nothing gets better.  A week later the tent is a worse chaotic muddle and the man shows up at the elder’s place hunched over in tears completely disillusioned.

“I don’t understand,” he says. 

“Good, says the elder,” cutting him off before he can say anymore. “Now go home and return the animals.”

“I don’t understand,” the man keeps mumbling as he mopes home. 

A week later, he returns stuffed with presents for the elder. 

“It’s a miracle,” he rejoices.  “It’s a miracle.  My home is so much bigger and happy now. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much!”

Perhaps this is what I’ve been writing about this season: The Master’s Touch, All I Need To Know I Learned Canoeing, Hangin’ Out.  It’s been about the power of appreciating what is and, on a daily basis, loving what arises. 

I’ve come to realize, the things that keep interfering with the wondrous state of peace and joy are those often secretly ingrained expectations - the expectation for something different and/or better.  Remove the ‘should haves’ – I should have, they should have, it should have…blah, blah, blah…and all that’s left is appreciation…and deep love…and happiness. 

I don’t have to get my way to be happy, I just have to love what arises.

When I find I’ve got ‘dread head’- thinking things should be different then they are- I now stop and calmly replace them with this:

Thank you.

I love you.

Bless you.

Thank you readers for supporting the local businesses who support this paper so we guest writers have a forum. 

Love and blessings to all.

Happy Thanksgiving!

HANGIN' OUT

There’s something pretty wonderful about summer here in #MyHaliburtonHighlands: the recreational sports, the local markets, the arts and crafts.  But what makes the season most memorable for me is the time spent just hanging out.

I used to worry about entertaining the grandkids and guests and having planned activities, but it’s fascinating how ideas pop up for games and visits to seamlessly fill the gaps.  The Sculpture Forest and farmer’s markets, pirate parties and vegetable picking, inventing games and painting rocks, the intimacy of these ‘unimportant’ moments are what we cherish and forever remember deep in our bones, deep in those tender, resilient places within.  Yes, our bodies do store trauma, but they also store bliss.

In mid-August, we hosted our third house-concert with Juno-nominated singer/songwriter Craig Cardiff and had a wonderful weekend of comradery. The first summer, Craig put on a sensational performance under the stars and enhanced his sound using looping and beatboxing.  The second summer, with a bigger audience, he moved to the deck and added a light show that made the leaves in the maple and oak trees behind him dance. This year, anticipating a repeat of the magic, we prayed for the rain to stop. It didn’t.  And to add to the challenge of setting up and re-arranging the furniture inside, the power went out just as he was plugging in.  There may not have been any special effects that evening, but there sure was chemistry. Craig’s easy, gentle manner had us all singing along, relaxing into the moment, and opening to all the gifts he did have to offer – including pure friendship.

In this information/mobile-app age where we spend most of our time in our heads, making time and space to slow down just feels so soothing, so blissful.  It’s like our nervous system has a chance to reset and that part of ourselves that’s quick to giggle and be expressive has a chance to blossom again – no thinking required, just heart-filled time being in the magic.  Craig is a master of this, and his engaging manner and easy improvisations quickly had us all feeling like family singing and laughing around a campfire.

Now, however, that summer is coming to an end and our schedules are filling up, I’m wondering if it’s possible to maintain that ‘hangin’ out’ feel?  Does the ease have to be mothballed with the boat?  What is it about summer that helps us let down our guards and find real joy?

Maybe, whether we realize it or not, with the windows open and nature streaming in, our whole body is connecting and responding to all that is participating in life – the birds, the breeze, the rustling leaves. We’re not separate, we’re not really alone, and the innocence that is at the core of our soul gets to breathe…and smile.  The awe we express at a beautiful sunset is harmonizing with the awe that has been patiently waiting within, the joy our eyes see when a child smiles is the same joy that has been quietly residing in our heart, and the nurturing instinct we witness in nature is enlivening those instincts that have been resting within; within our bodies.

Some people have a morning ritual to help ground themselves in the state of relaxation.  Others use apps to anchor in it throughout the day.  The simplest approach I’ve learned is:  follow your breath.  When I do so, my nervous system slows down and tension dissolves away. One tell-tale sign of being anxious, I noticed, is my fingers; if they’re fidgety, it’s time to slow down and follow my breath again.

This place of calmness is not a withdrawal from problems but instead another way of approaching them.  Creativity and inspiration abound when I’m open and in harmony with life - not so much so when negativity and anxiety grip me.

At his concerts, Craig Cardiff passes around a large notebook and invites his audience to write something about themselves.  This Book of Truths allows for the storytelling to go both ways.  Here’s what I wrote:

I tried to understand everything but only saw differences.

Now I try to bless everything and see only innocence.

I thought I could get over the traumas in my past and be more graceful by studying and conforming to the ways of the old Masters.  This summer has shown me, I already am a Master.  I just have to slow down, soften my body, and connect with the blessings that surround me. 

ALL I NEED TO KNOW, I LEARNED CANOEING

I saw a post on Facebook recently from my brother who was in Switzerland at the Montreux Jazz Festival.  It was a dream of his to attend the event and could only have been made better if he was on stage playing drums with his band.  But still, in the picture, he was smiling ear to ear thrilled to finally be where all the jazz legends he admired had played.

This made me think of my ‘to-do’ list and what was still on it.  The first thing that came to mind was crafting a fourteen-foot birch bark canoe.  There’s something about building a boat from natural elements that speaks to my soul. Like giving the tree a second life by transforming it; bringing the power in my hands, mind and heart together to create functioning art; and then there’s the return to the water and the perfect harmony you’d feel, on bended knee, in reverence to all that went into building it.

My first memories of canoeing were at summer camp as a seven year-old, and I still have the paddle bought with tuck money so long ago. I remember watching the NFB films ‘Paddle to the Sea’ and ‘Song of the Paddle’ in elementary school and later watching John and Janet Foster’s canoe adventures on CBC.  Something inside me just comes alive when I watch canoeing.  It’s as if the spruce root, used to lash bark canoes together, is intertwined with my DNA.

It’s not surprising, I suppose, that the man I married also loves canoeing.  In fact our first date was filled with Algonquin stories, our honeymoon was on its McIntosh Lake, and my wedding gift to him was a sixteen-foot cedar strip. 

We’ve taken the kids and their friends to the park many times over the years and have lots of stories that keep us smiling with pride and comradery.  Last week, taking our two seven year-old grandsons on their first overnight trip, was pure joy.  Their excitement to be out with us powered the boats forward more so than did their paddles, and that worked just fine by us.  They helped set up the tent, collect wood and pine needles for the fire, and even tried spear fishing – a first on one of our trips.

Over the years we’ve seen the Northern Lights, turned the river bend to face moose, braved three-foot stormy waves, skinny-dipped at sunset, suffered with bronchitis and lost shoes, been starved and stuffed, and been woken up by seventeen loons yodeling on our lake.

So after fifty years of paddling, what have I learned?  Well, I’ve come to know how important appreciation is.  I appreciate what the canoe can and cannot do and what I can and cannot do and how our two talents work so well together.  I appreciate the power of nature and how I can work with it to have some pretty awesome adventures.  And I appreciate how privileged I am to be able to walk out my door and paddle three seasons of the year.

I’ve also learned about enthusiasm and what can be accomplish with an openhearted approach to the unknown around the bend.

And I’ve learned about the importance of effort, for without it, the canoe would stay on the dock and I’d never know what it is to be truly alive.

If I had to sum it up, I’d say: Sometimes the canoe carries the paddler, and sometimes the paddler carries the canoe; together they can happily go anywhere! What better symbol for a soulful way to live could you find? 

Will I ever make my own bark canoe?  Well I’ve been to many parts of the world, felt deep love, laughed till I’ve cried, and made music with my grandchildren.  With appreciation, enthusiasm and effort, I’d say, I can accomplish anything!

THE MASTER'S TOUCH

Every now and then you get the chance to meet a true Master – someone whose light shines so radiantly your own can’t help but glow a bit brighter in their presence.  I’ve met several in my life, including musicians, swamis, martial artists, and Olympians.  What I’ve noticed about these men and women is, they may have different skills, different crafts they excelled at, but there is a similarity in their nature.

Last weekend, six friends got together at our cottage to learn how to paint.  Sandie had painted forty years ago, Wendy had tried it for the first time last year, and four of us (including me) had never learned a thing about painting with acrylics. 

It all started with Wendy who spent a day with our neighbour, Shelley Houghton, last summer.  Shelley is a retired elementary school teacher and knows how to get kids – and adults – to succeed.  When I saw Wendy’s painting on Facebook I couldn’t believe the declared newbie had accomplished it in a day!  At a campfire last fall, a group of us convinced Shelley to try to work her magic again so we planned a fun ‘girl’s day’ around it with a pot luck lunch and bubbly and appetizers at the end of the day to celebrate.

Meanwhile, Shelley is not only an outstanding teacher, she is also an award winning painter.  She recently won Mississauga’s Art Battle and is heading to the regional finals.  If you haven’t heard of Art Battle, it is one of those wonderful cultural events that brings patrons up close to watch the art process unfold.  Twelve painters compete in three twenty-minute rounds and the audience votes for the best in each round and the best over-all.  Yes, twenty minutes to create a painting means the artists – some professional and others up-and-coming – have to get to the point quickly - not a lot of time for small brush details.

Our day started weeks ago when we submitted photos to Shelley for approval.  I sent three: a bunch of wild daisies, a hay field, and a photo I’d taken of my husband drinking coffee by the lake.  To my surprise, the one she thought I’d have the most success with is the one with a person in it. Yikes! 

We all started off with a solid background - mine was yellow – and then began adding elements.  Mireille was a ‘dabber’, dotting her canvas with colour for her fall landscape. I was a ‘stroker’, waving my brush side to side, blending the hues to create sky and water.

We had lessons on how to use the brushes, like scumbling with and elephant brush to create misty areas and clouds, and using a fan brush to create textures for pine branches and bark.  I couldn’t get over the results we were getting.  With Shelley’s easy guidance and firm knowledge, each one of us was producing work we never knew we were capable of.

And then, after lunch, I had to paint in my husband from behind as he looked out over the lake. I would have had a panic attack if I hadn’t come to trust Shelley and her process.  She showed me how to map it out and suggested I cheat a bit and sketch it on a piece of paper first then use some tracing paper to get the outline in.  I felt myself wanting to freak out so kept relaxing myself using my breath and softening my gaze.  Dab by dab the curly hair was done and stroke by stroke the clothes were mostly done.  Next was painting a hand holding a coffee mug.  Help! She calmly showed me how to imagine it and gave me a plate of paints with dabs of red, yellow, white, blue and brown to make the flesh colour.  With a few fixes it was okay – not great, but okay.  Then standing back, something wasn’t quite right.  Where was the other hand?  In the photo it was out of sight but in the painting it didn’t look right, so we added a right hand waving. I was gaining confidence so had a bit more fun playing with it. After ten minutes or so of more tweaking I was done my masterpiece, and so were most of the others.

The bottles were uncorked, the ribs heated and it was time to celebrate – celebrate the works we created, celebrate the feelings of accomplishment, and celebrate the Master in our midst.

They say you can tell how great a Master is not by how many students he or she has but by how many Masters he or she creates.  With easy laughter and firm support, Shelley Houghton is brilliantly leading the way for many to shine brightly! Thank you Shelley!