Serendipity

/2 Comments/in /by

I love serendipity. I love those little connecting moments. Some people believe you are in a state of heightened awareness when you start to notice these things.

Like when you first fall in love with someone… you marvel at how many things you have in common, how it all seems like fate… how it was so meant to be. “Oh my goodness, his middle name is the same as my favourite uncle’s… we both hate sushi and Bob Dylan… we must be meant for each other!!”

It’s really bullshit.

But I like looking at it. Connecting dots. I do it for my own amazement.  It’s probably the reason I also enjoy astrology. The phases of the moon, the ebb and flow of currents. I like coinciding dates and time. I won’t bore you with examples, but life and happenstance can be pretty strange. Usually it all passes by without us even noticing.

I’m obviously in a heightened straight of awareness right now, no, I’m not in love with someone, I’m writing a blog and already on my second pint.

But that’s not the point.  And to be honest there really is no point. Or maybe the point is that with our busy lives we don’t stop and really notice the little moments that make life seem special.

Special and strange… I am looking out across a beach to a rocky crag where I stood nine months ago and took a picture of the spot where I’m sitting right now. That stunning photo is the homepage on my computer.

There is no explanation except a magic bit of serendipity that has allowed me to be here again and experiencing the weird paradigm shift of looking back at myself.

Or maybe just pure bullshit and I shouldn’t have ordered that second pint if I had not finished writing my blog.

Or maybe the person I can see off in the distance, standing on that crag will show up in this room later on.  We will end up chatting, we will be amazed at the serendipity of the chance meeting… and we might both be amazed to equally hate Bob Dylan.

God I love serendipity.

2013-04-15 #23 From big rock web

Mr. Burns

/1 Comment/in /by

At about 4am this Saturday, January 25, 2014 there will be a shift in the universe. You might not feel is where you live, and it might not be the lead story on the news radio station, but I will tweet about it. The fact will cause a stir! For the first time in 22 years I will turn on my oven.

Saturday is Robbie Burns Day.  And I will be heating two rather large haggis for the SFU Centre for Scottish Studies “3rd Annual Robbie Burns Day Marathon Reading.”  We plan on breaking the world record for the “longest continual recitation of Burns’ poetry and song.” Our goal is 6 hours. We will prevail.

-Well known fact, I don’t cook at home. I’m famous for not using my oven. My friends will have a hard time believing I will do this.-

I created this crazy event and it’s my job to make it happen. This entails coordinating all the participants, promoting it everywhere and to everyone, and basically taking care of all the bits and pieces.  That’s where the haggis comes in. People expect to eat haggis on Robbie’s day and I better deliver some… and it better be hot!

My favourite part of the event is chatting with all the people.  Everyone seems to have a story to tell about the poem or song they want to recite.  Everyone wants to share their thoughts.  And so often, someone has a story that will break your heart.  Voices have cracked and tears have flowed. I’ve spent hours on the phone not just booking a time slot for the marathon, but hearing the detailed background of treasured memories. I’ve discovered Burns and his words have the power to evoke strong emotions.

I hear about “a mother, long gone, and her favourite poem”, “a song heard while looking out over a glen” and even a book passed on through generations.  I hear about glorious parties from years ago… and intimate whispers of souls not forgotten.

This event started as a vehicle to promote the Centre for Scottish Studies.  Little did I know I would come face-to-face with the power of the written word. Robert Burns deserves this day… we need to celebrate him.

And who else would have the clout to get me to turn on my oven.  It is a miracle.

Luckily I enjoy a good haggis.

Burns Header

Nothing

/1 Comment/in /by

I should be flattered, all day long people have been asking, “Where’s the blog?”

Why I promised I would post every Wednesday I will never know? But I do know! I’m lazy and if I didn’t make the commitment I would blog a few times then life would get in the way and weeks and maybe even months would go by without a word. I am predictable. And clever enough to justify every procrastination. So I made the promise to blog.

I posted my first blog on May 29, 2013. Since then I think I’ve missed two Wednesdays. A pretty good record.

This past week I started writing my second book. The stories for the book could have been made into blogs but I thought they were a little too “booky”. This left a void for today.  So for the last 13 hours I have bounced countless ideas around in my head about what to write. Nothing grew to more than a simple thought or at most a sentence or two.

See what I mean…

“People should take down their Christmas lights”

“I’m seeing my family doctor today for the last time. She is retiring and has been my doctor for 20 years. We’ve been through a ton together.  Way too many pap-smears!!”

“YoYo Ma is coming back to Vancouver and I have tickets!”

“I’ll say it again, if you want to lose weight, eat less…. Really, eat less!”

“Why do people give people the silent treatment?”

“Will we have enough people to read Robbie Burns’ poetry on January 25 to break the 6 hour world record for continual recitations?”

“Don’t even get me started on Woody Allen”

“No matter what you are doing, listening to great music can make anything better!”

I bet I could have made a blog out of each and every one of these thoughts… but I promised a funny, ironic and happy topic this week and that would have been a stretch.  OK, the piece about Woody would have been funny, and I bet I could have made you smile with a rant about January weight loss schemes!

Next week will be much better.  I promise.

Sharks

/4 Comments/in /by

The long line to board the ferry resulted in a chat with the young woman next to me.  First about the horrendous amount of “walk-ons”, then bemoaning that being at the end of the line there would be no seats and we would probably be sitting on the floor for the journey.  It was January 1st and everyone was trying to get home.

As we started loading I said this would be the time to splurge on the ferry’s buffet lounge, sit at a nice table and eat some decent food. She said she couldn’t afford those types of perks. We boarded and the entrance to the lounge was right there. I said, “Let’s go, my treat!” She smiled and followed.

We got a table and food and started to talk. As so often happens with me, I quickly heard her heartbreaking story. It wasn’t hard to guess, she had a cloud around her.

I tried to give her hope; to say is does get better. But does anyone in a hole with no ladder feel there is truly a way out?

Then I told her about the shark.  Being a sexually abused child is like having a leg bitten off by a shark. Painful, horrendous, disgusting and life altering.  And guess what, for the rest of your life you won’t have that leg.  It will never grow back. But here’s the thing, we can give you crutches to get around. Then we can teach you to hop.  You’ll be like a rabbit! If you’re lucky at some point we’re going to fit you with a fake leg. You will walk again. Then in time we’ll get you some fancy options.  One of those legs to run with and even one you can wear when you go dancing.  Most of the world will never know the shark stole your leg.

Now the hard truth. We can’t give you your old leg back. It is gone forever. This is your new life. Not perfect but doable.

So my advice. Stop thinking about the shark. Stop thinking about your old leg. Stop.  Your life has changed forever.  Start thinking about how you’re going to run and dance with the new leg.

But who was I to talk, just an old woman who lost her leg to a shark decades ago.  She could see I was fine.  I don’t think she noticed the reflection of an echo held behind my eyes. Very few would ever see that sometimes late at night I still dream of the days when I had both legs.

To see this damaged young woman made me mad.  How can we let child abuse still happen?  You’d think we would have fixed the problem by now.  When will enough be enough?

When are we going to purge the sharks?

First Light

/2 Comments/in /by

I cover myself with a veil.  If you look carefully you can see it but to most it’s hidden or maybe invisible.  On January 1st at dawn’s first light I can be found at a ceremony reaffirming my pervasive intent.  Reaffirming my basic nature, or at least the nature I aspire to… my Buddha Nature.  This is the veil that covers me and all I hope to be.  Sometimes I hold it close and sometimes it seems to blow in the wind.  After all these years I have never let it go.

At the First Light Ceremony I will say the prayers and light a small candle. I will meditate and contemplate.  Follow my breath and attempt to calm my mind.  Most likely I will fail at the calming of the mind, but the intent will count.

Whether I awake in a monastery, or at home alone, or at a secluded mountain retreat, or in the arms of someone I love; each year on January 1st I perform the First Light Ceremony.

It’s a way to remind myself to “be kinder, do more, make this matter”. A touchstone to renew my Tibetan Buddhist practice.

For much of the western world the focus will be to lose weight, find a better job, quit smoking, fall in love or exercise more.  All doable and admiral goals for 2014.

I will admit. I do write down a list of goals each year. But then again I write down a list of goals each New Moon. It’s a double whammy this year with January 1st also being a New Moon.  So yes, there will be a list of goals from me.

But the aspiration I will make at the First Light Ceremony will be to be kind for the next 24 hours.  No matter what happens, be kind.  I’m going to give it my best shot.

And about that veil, I will make sure it is tied tightly around me knowing it is not a safety net, but a comforting embrace.  With that thought, I will walk out into the world.