A Story

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I saw this picture and fell in love with it. So peaceful, so tranquil, I wonder if there is such a place? If I were to tell you a story what do you think it could be about? Would I write about love, beauty or of a moment when everything stood still? Is this the end of the world where there are no humans left? Nature won I would write about and wiped out the human race. It would be about new beginnings and great reversal of fortunes. It should be about not just winning and losing yet about coming to terms with what we destroyed in the process of making things better, easier and more instantaneous. Mother Nature spanked our behinds, kicked our ass and sent us to the corner to think about what we’ve done. In the meantime time stood still and peace reigned over all.

So where then could I begin to tell you my story. Is there faith, is this the tree of Adam and Eve? There are no apples here to be deceived with just beautiful flowers to gaze at. The water is clean and still full of contemplation as we meditate on the future of “what do we do?” We do nothing and listen this time. We sit by the waters edge and place our toes in the water and think with clarity. Theres no stirring up the muck, no throwing sand, just a stillness of no time limits. There could be children climbing the tree and sitting on branches, seeing the future as it is in its true self. There are no warriors awaiting war, no kings in reign over terror or divisions of different vs same. It’s as far as you can see, hope for all.

Alice sits in her wonderland believing her story of rabbit holes and Madd Hatters. Cats that disappear and Queen’s that lop off heads. I sit in my wondered land of thought and think to; what if? What could be my story if this tree were in my perview. If I could sit under this tree and tell my story. Would I tell you about love and lovers falling in love. Of believers believing in a higher purpose or just about the tree, as it stands alone before this lake, all alone waiting for company.

If I cold tell you a story what would it be? Tell me your story I’d love to sit under the tree with you and listen. Please do.

Peace out on this wonder filled night.

Make Me Laugh

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Make me laugh. Life is to serious right now. I need a bit of comic relief I would say, a roll around on the ground, a tickle in my tickle spot.

Laughter is so important, be insane and roll around on the ground. Inappropriate giggles, give it to me is quadruple. Wheres the remote, maybe there’s something on tv that’s going to give me the gut laughter that I need. A little Letterkenny, or Tosh. A little edginess, a little off colour fun that can disrupt my day, so later when I think about it someone sees me smile. Uncover the covers, feel the freedom of comedic completeness, a place where the heart sings a song before the news interrupts the imagination.

I want to laugh out loud in a public place because someone told me a bad joke. Tell the same joke at a business meeting because whoever talking is so damn boring. Maybe even play an innocent prank on the child in my house that always gets the first laugh. All in good fun, lets have some fun again in our lives. When was the last time you can honestly say you let your hair down, took off the underwear, and danced around with just a smile on.

Life has become awkward, disassembled and raw. We don’t know how to enjoy ourselves because maybe we are not politically correct. I really don’t care. If you’re around I want us to laugh, whisper stuff and make the whole room become aware of the silliness and how good it makes us feel.

Get up, get down with your silly self. Be childlike and believe that magic still exists on this planet of many humans all looking for a little laughter to fill them up for a change.

Thank You

lest we forget
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Thank you. Thank you for your service. We soon forget after 12 o clock comes along and the parade is done that these men keep going. Their day doesn’t stop because we stop thinking about them, they move forward with the thought of no one left behind.

So I ask you this simple question, why do we? Why do we forget? Why do we get so caught up in our own worlds and those that do for us are not recognized or remembered? Our worlds may feel like war, they may on days feel like rejection or compliance yet what about those that have chosen to put their lives on the line every day for the simple reason of freedom.

When we don’t like our partner any more we leave, for some of us it’s time for the children to move on, yet there is no forgetting them, and even when someone close dies we grieve.

Can you let go of your dramas, judgements and personal issues for 2 minutes and with the silence thank them for their service. Thank the mail man, thank the teacher that teaches every day, thank the volunteers that come to help out when needed. Thank the nurses and doctors that give up the financial success and go to the poorest communities to give service to those in need.

Now stand up and be thankful for those that do serve this country, for this is their day. Thank them, those strangers that made the military their passion even if you don’t agree. See them as human beings with family, brothers and sons that chose to leave their families behind to serve you. Be grateful for the country you live in because even in times of turmoil here there are soldiers somewhere else with less than you. Attend a parade, even if it’s the first time, it’s awesome and you will feel compassion I believe you will. The stories for the most part are happy and funny, and the ones tha are not will open your heart.

I went today. I went in respect of my partner who served for 20 years, my friend who is 75, served for 32 years and a friend who is a civilian and it was his first time. We watched the parade and I brought the Kleenex which was passed around. We listened to those who told their stories and I smiled at the families who brought their young children to find out what our country is all about. Our veterans are getting older and the new soldiers are now replacing them with new stories. Let’s make sure the older stories are never forgotten.

Lest we forget.


Hello, are you home? Knock knock will you answer? Hello, hello, hello. Your head has that hollow feel about it, empty and evasive. I hope I can get through to you today. The sun is shining and my heart is open.

I can see your home, you’re face pressed to the glass trying to figure out who it is. It’s me, can’t you see me? Your hiding again, this time wrapped around the curtain like a playful child in the game of hide and seek. What are you seeking rolled into that old drape, bet it’s dusty inside. Come on just unwrap the funny looking person, you look like a human burrito and answer the door, I won’t bite. Just because I don’t always agree with you doesn’t mean you have to take away the welcome mat. Hey come on, I’m here, just let me in.

I can see you, you know, you are sitting right next to me, face planted in front of the tv. Peek a boo I see you, turn your head so we can have a conversation. Your avoiding me and I don’t understand. Silence is not necessarily golden you know. Can you remember yesterday when you had the floor and I listened while you talked endlessly about your passions? Well one sided is just lop sided, if you only pour water on one side the glass, the glass never stands upright, like us. You tell me I talk to much, that you don’t understand a lot of what I say because I talk nonsense. No sense is provided by the non talker, why do we have ears then? Maybe just to share conversations, now that makes sense.

Hello, maybe I will start over here. Hi I’m home what do you want to talk about. Because really it doesn’t matter to me, I just want you to engage. Life is about doing, learning, being present. Ok I will ignore you too.

“Hello, are you home, your head isn’t on your head. Where did you put it?”

Somethings different, hey your headless. I can see your heart beating which means you’re not dead just mindless. Did you say something, I hear a strange voice coming from your chest, it’s muffled but give me a minute and I’m sure that I can learn this new method of conversation. I’m actually excited to sit with you. “Hello.” “Hi, glad to finally meet you.”

Somber Days

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Somber days, mean somber ways. Somber ways usually get you a somber message.

Yes baby it’s cold outside and raining. The best weather for pouring out your heart, seeing the drops move down the window pane, hoping for sunshine, something to make the pain go away. Why do you think you are treated like this, you may say to yourself? Why do you always feel the pressure of the clouds as they droop down lower than the tops of the trees. The low pressure brings on the headaches and other peoples emotional garbage. You seem to be the dumping grounds, the truck you can hear beeping its backup sound ready to deliver with every crack of thunder. Lighting is about to be expressed you may add finishing your thought with, “and it was such a nice day a bit ago.”

The door rumbles through the sounds of wind hitting it and aren’t you lucky it’s not in your face. One day that old door will just give way to the constant pounding and fall down forever. You have wanted to replace it years back yet you’ve never gotten around to it, why? There seems to be a lot of things in need of repair or even replacement, “someday” you say, “Someday.”

Some days never come, just like on somber days the sun never shines. It too hides behind closed doors wishing the weather would get better yet it never does. Tomorrow it will come out the blue skies will be remembered until the next somber day.

I think I will treat myself to some hot tea and a cold shower. Make sure I know exactly which reality I’m in, until the day comes when I put the laundry out to dry. Its sitting in a basket wet and fresh out of the washer. All I now need to do is sort it all out and put it where it belongs. Some in the dryer for quick results and the rest on hangers so I can see the truth amidst the wrinkles.

It’s a somber day, sober to the reality that sometimes laundry can’t be cleaned up, sorted out and placed in drawers until next time the inclement weather comes around. It will be different one day because the sombreness of the day will have to face it alone. I will be somewhere where the sun does shine, the birds do sing and I won’t miss the rainmaker.

Plugged In With Me

Anywhere any time come plug in with me. I’m an open receptacle, a place you can plug in and receive. I can’t guarantee the advice I give is for you to automatically get yet it’s there for you anytime you need refreshing.

What do you want to know? How do you want to feel? IS it objective or subjective, maybe I should read your tarot cards. Somedays you can find me sitting high in a tree overlooking the harbour. On other days I will be sitting at my makeshift desk cranking out information for my new platform. Then there are the days I ride my bike indoors because of inclement weather. On those days I seem to lose my mind and keep a recorder next to me for the new book I want to write or some kind of self help for myself.

Do I have normal days? Of course I do some with too much time on my hands. I want to be timeless, in the present moment, have days that never end and nights of full on sleep. I especially love the days when I’m “ON” in accordance with my intuition. Which is really the days when reality is awesome. It’s like being the pointy end of the stick and you get it all first hand. What is “on” for me, it’s nothing more than following my instincts and being right place right timing. It was that way for me today when I walked into a framing shop that was having a “going into retirement” sale. I bought a few limited signed prints and felt I should run out the door before they realized they charged too little. I had a great conversation with an older man who could have fooled me with his wise”ness” about life. Native to the area, he had a story to tell, “do you have time to sit and listen?” I wanted too and maybe next time I will. He did tell me he has eagle medicine in him and I do believe as I was told I have crow.

The best part was when I returned home and supper was ready after a long day of being a tourist in my own town. It is a chilly fall day and a big bowl of spaghetti Al’s style was welcomed. Now here I am telling you all about it in my own creative way.

It’s almost veterans day I hope you all have your poppies.

So back to being plugged in, I always am. I love being able to share whenever you come around. Share with me back by sending me a comment or idea and we can plug in together and yes I do read tarot, yet I do it my way.

Peace out people and thank a soldier. I thank mine every day.

Having A Beer With The Boys

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I’m having a beer with the boys. It’s my first time being invited and I thought I should go and see what all the hoopla is all about. I have heard a lot about having beers with the boys and after all these years I get to attend.

“What should I expect” I asked and I got, the look, and the shoulder shrug as if I asked when we’d be landing on the moon. I think I was over the moon really because hey to be invited to a beer with the boys, well maybe I’m special. I wondered what they talked about on these so called beer night outs and if they’d be different if I am there. Hope not, I want to be the reporter who gets the big story and then I can write about it.

To get to the venue, I was told just to meet most of them there. It is after the hockey game and unless I wanted to hang around in a sweaty locker room, well I will just hitch a ride with one of the others. Who were these others, Other wives, friends, parents who also tagged along? My excitement was overwhelming to say the least, yet what was so exciting? It’s just a beer, yeah right. The night was mind blowing. Not because of where I went, we just went to a pub, because it was non eventful. I experienced a bunch of guys drinking, discussing the game and whatever else came up. It took about four beers for one to actually acknowledge me, “Oh yeah how’s it going?” and smiles all around. Of course it was respectful at first and then it got good. Hats went sideways, jokes changed a whole lot and they actually let me talk. You see I found out these guys talked a lot as the beer flowed and then nothing. Drunk and quiet. There was no big secrets to be told, no fart contests and the burps were well feed by the flowing beer. Not exactly like I thought.

Well to make a long night short I stayed to the bitter end, played a lot of pool, danced a bit to old songs but refused to karaoke. I have been told too many times I cannot carry a tune. I fit in eventually because through beer glass eyes they forgot I was a female.

My night out with the boys was a great experience and they were so grateful to have a designated driver this time that maybe they would keep me around to do it again. So in the end we all laughed, we maybe cried over a few too many beers and yes I would love to come as a driver of men who have had too many, yet next time just ask. Any time because it was super fun.

The Cook

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Whats cooking?

The cook, master of the kitchen, a partner in food crime, someone who should get more credit than one does. Blood sweat and tears into every tasteful bite. Sometimes dressed in an apron sometimes not yet the food smells like it came from the best eatery in town. How did I get so lucky?

From farm to table the food comes from love. Want to be overwhelmed come on over and see and how it’s prepared. Leftovers go to the fridge yet wait to long and it won’t be there. “Hey good lookin, what ya got cookin, how’s about cooking something up with me.” Every day is food crazy.

Whats’ for supper? Whose coming over? Is it a special day, someones birthday? No not really, it’s just the cook in the kitchen doing their thing. What is their thing? Love, love and love. Each piece of fruit, each slice of vegetable and bite of protein comes with full on flavour. Lots of spice from all over the world gives it its speciality. Whats your flavour?

When you walk in the door you can hear people talk. “What’s for supper, neighbour?” They may say it but what the truth is, “can I come have some.” Yes It’s pretty awesome in my house. I guess I’m bragging, yet those bragging rights are not mine to hold. I’m not the apron of apron wearer. I’m definitely not the spice bearer or chief of all chiefs. I may be the table setter, the dish washer, bread slicer or salad maker. The truth is I am not the cook. I cook pages, my creation is here on this page, I cook words.

Sometimes you get lucky and when it comes to the cook I did.


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As the plate hits the floor it shatters, broken. You pick up the pieces and put them in a paper bag acknowledging that someday you will glue them back together. Pieces of ceramic that have pieces once broken also, another time.

Through the window a rocks thrown, broken glass, slivers of reflection on the wood floor staring back up at the ceiling. It was an accident, yet it is still broken. You sweep the pieces into a paper bag and decide what to do next.

It was the doll your great grandma gave you, it stares back at you on a shelf, a piece of it’s face missing, broken. You can’t remember when it happened, it wasn’t your fault yet you cried anyways. The piece of ceramic was put into a paper bag and you can still find it in the drawer next to your bed. Someday you will try and repair it.

You reminisce about those times, the broken ones. The pieces of your life once lived and now lay in a paper bag inside a box full of memories. The parts of stories that you said you would never tell yet your mind won’t let you forget. Made of steel, you would tell yourself, I can’t break. Broke, broken, are the only two words left in your repertoire. Maybe you could take out the paper bags and lay the pieces out and make a menagerie of images. If the pieces don’t fit the story can’t be told, it will always stay broken.

One special bag lays deep inside, so deep you can’t remember where you put it. It contains the two pieces of your heart, torn apart so long ago, broken, shattered, unrepairable. You thought many times of looking for it because maybe now you could glue it back together yet it hasn’t happened. Heartless, broken, unrepairable it remains locked away.

You have left notes though. Notes and messages, directions of sorts for a little girl to find. Like the china doll that sits on the shelf she may be noticed and through the loving kindness of another she may be lifted off the shelf placed in the softness of a smile and repaired. Given a second chance to be held, embraced and seen, not on a shelf but in the arms of someone unbroken.


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Move, move it, move on, up or along. Move your body, move in motivation. Movement to improve ones perspective or just old moving.

When we move in anticipation of the music, we dance. If there’s something to fear we move away from the fear and sometimes we run. Hunger has us moving toward the kitchen to receive a well deserved delight whether you cooked or not. ” Get the popcorn, Ive got the drinks’, has us moving in front of the TV because we are about to watch a movie. All kinds of moving in any direction you choose. It’s all in a days work this movement thing, we do it all the time.

What happens though when we realize we need to move away from something? You’re neighbourhood, now that you’re off to University. Maybe you find yourself downsizing or moving because you need a bigger house? You loved that house, the people next door yet now it’s time to move on. We then leave a piece of us behind until the “new Place” fills us up again. Then there’s death, that is the ultimate movement, moving above and beyond the human self. This one isn’t hard if you are the one that died but if your left behind it can be super hard to move on.

One we haven’t talked abut yet is when our own personal space, box or attitude becomes to small and we need to get out. Moving away from the emotions that tie us up, inside the box, and won’t allow us to move. Moving out of our heads is hard. To have to put aside our goals, plans and aspirations, ones we have carried around with us forever takes a lot of courage. Can we believe, we can leave the box, actually break it down and recycle it? This way one never returns and is movement in a valuable way. It takes work, authenticity and strength to divulge sensitive information to yourself and make you not just believe yet understand it. Movement is a dance of the mind, moving in a better direction is fearless and Move Out becomes your favourite new movie.

Live your life without boxes, be simple and minimal as you plan your life, change your attitude and find compromise when the box gets small.

Peace out as you move on, move up and move along with the tide.