Family, Guardian Angel, Letters to Heaven, Love, Loved Ones, Story Teller

Grief

It starts as a rip.

It is subtle.  It is to the core. This madness. This, I would do anything to have you back, once again. I would do anything for a do over. Please. Are you listening?

I want, I desire to hear your voice again, your laughter, your wisdom, your touch..your touch. Do you hear me? I cry. I cry again. I miss you like you don’t know. I cry until my eyes hurt. I cry to my inner soul in so much anguish.

And it passes.

I laugh. Did you just make me laugh? I thought of something that you did. You know, that mannerism of grabbing your chin and your tongue pops out and you would grab my chubby hand and make me tug your ear and your tongue would pop back again. Crazy.

Thank you..spirit.

Story Teller

Dear Teacher

You who tried to drill those superimposed thoughts of your own into mine. Be good! Listen! Don’t do as I do! Do it the right way! Do it my way! Repeat..Repeat..Repeat. Sometimes you would yell at me all the while as I either cowered or took it or disdainfully took my power away. Did you know that all the while I grew stronger. Was this your intent? I did not know it at the time. All the while I kept thinking, “I will run away, I will run away and tell and you will be in trouble.” I will tell someone who will listen to my story. At this time I also grew another super power. Courage. And then another. Resiliency. And yet another. Insight. That last one told me when the hit was going to come. A verbal strike or a physical jab. This little girl had many teachers in the span of her younger years until I said no more and left the home. The teachers came in many forms. Many people. Those that came and empowered me will always be remembered with fondness and those that came with intentions to yield there own hurt will be remembered as the greatest teachers.

I was to go back and ask one person, “Do you remember what you did and why?” I was given the reply, “Are you drunk?” I left and got in my vehicle disheartened. Truly. I cried as I drove and pulled over. I then cried out to the universe, “I forgive you. For what you did to me. I forgive you!! I have to move on and I know I will never hear sorry come from you but I have to go on. I love you and forgive you.” I was to phone my then husband and tell him how the meeting transpired. And I added what I did after and how it made me feel free and how peaceful I felt. I had faced that person who would never own there part but I knew my part was to be healed from it. To not make myself a victim and repeat..repeat..repeat this story.

Resolve is a really great word is it not. It tells our mind and body and spirit that all is well. It gives us the green light and say go forward. Walk at your own pace. To resolve any experience in our lives is the greatest thing that we can do. Empower is another. I love that powerful and strengthening word. It says so much. I empower myself by my boundaries. I say when. I say what. I walk my path respectfully when I have that word in my body. This woman is efficient, has integrity, confident, trusting, and always learning not only from books from people as this is the biggest tool in the universe. I always pay attention to these teachers.

Heaven, Letters to Heaven, Love, Loved Ones, Story Teller

Forgive & Move On

I wake from a dream. It is Colin from the past. He is smiling and shows his love to me as he kisses me. Many years have gone by and I know in my heart he has passed on. I receive his visitations of sorrow and also validations of our life and his dreams. Anyone that abuses has themselves been abused in some form or other. He could never look in the mirror and see truth. I would say positive and he would reply negative. Nothing was good enough. He was not enough. Our relationship was loving at first but stress and a child not your own adds pressure. The yelling and threats followed. But I stayed. I was to overcome though when he threatened to take my house that I bought. I stood up to him.

I could never forgive him and I had my story about him that I told to others. On and on that went. Soon though that energy lessened as I met another man I was to marry. Colin stopped visiting my home and my son. I was not to see him again. It was about two years ago when I started receiving those visitations I spoke of before. His grandmother would be saying he was okay and Colin would be in the background on a ocean oilfield, a dream he always wanted to do. I forgive him now as all the experiences I gained from that time. I stood up to him and with that my boundaries grew stronger. I was standing in my power. My part of this was communication and saying no to the b.s.

I now love the dreams that come in of him and I smile this morning. He looked young and so happy as he smiled at me. I thank you for coming and saying hello spirit!

Story Teller

Where did you go?

I think back on my life and on the many experiences that the universe has allowed me to have. Some good, some bad, some terrifying. This was to come up in a phone conversation from one of my close friends yesterday and how PTSD had taken the memories from all and maybe not all but certainly the worse of the worse ones. As we were talking it arose the image of me held captive for two or three days before I was to escape this dark room in a small house. I had been taken and handcuffed to a pipe, left to wonder about what was to happen. A man came into the room and crying to him, I begged him to let me go, that I wouldn’t tell. He turned away but not before he unlocked the cuffs from my wrist. I was to wait until he left and then sneak out the back door which he was going to open for me. Dashing out in the brilliant sunny day I felt alive. That is all the memory of that day has let me replay and for that I am grateful. That happened so long ago.

Life make us who we are. It’s as simple as that. We can either carry that burden on our backs and name it victim but I would rather not call it anything at all or carry it for that matter. Deal with it in the present moment and move on. Make the mistake as I did and ignore the situation and it rears its ugly head in some other form or other.

Knowing that is to live in the now and to savor it, understand it for what it is. All to often we as people use food, alcohol, gambling, etc, as diversions to take that pain we have stuffed down on selves. Our souls crave to escape this mad cycle. Was it the day that life said no more for this one? Having that meltdown in my work many years ago certainly did the big turn around for me and brought me to this path of awakening. To understand my purpose. And the ride my friends has been spectacular from this huge merry go around of soul searching.

They say that the teacher come to those that wait and it is true for me. I have had many opportunities and those that I gladly accept. Many workshops, readings to understand where I am, classes and healing sessions. Am I the same person of 16, 23, 38 or 49? No, not even close. True I have my wicked sense of humor and still love to tell stories designed to make you think but my decision making skills have definitely vibed up. This lady has got her chance her kick at the cat so to speak. I can hardly wait to see what happens today.

Family, Story Teller

4 am

I seen your two boys walking down the alley yesterday as I was shoveling snow. They walked with a older boy coming out of the second hand store wearing very large ski suits, two with a backpack, the other with a folding chair. The weather here in Canada can get bitter and of course they would need the suits to to keep warm and especially at night. You see the local youth shelter is all full up and the other one down the street does not have enough funds to house anyone at all much less feed these kids. I was to watch them as they walked the block and half from Value Village down the snow covered alley talking all the while amongst them. As they passed me the older boy remarked out there, “New clothes, new boots.”

They were walking toward the mall that seems to draw many people down my alley to do there shopping but today not for them. Finished up the shoveling to get my car out of the garage and drove to the library which is on the other side of the mall and who should I see sitting outside were the three boys. The two younger ones nervously standing there with no purpose and the other with a ipad in his lap and a cord hanging out of his backpack. You see the library has free wifi and where better to do what he was doing on the internet then there. I dropped the books off and got into my car and seen them start to leave and once again heard the older boy speak up, “I got money for your supper, c’mon let’s go.”

Dear Mother’s they look scared like they didn’t have a clue and all I kept thinking was what was it that made them be here in this space and time. Was it a fight for control of there manhood and pride of youth. The streets can be cruel and so harsh and I fear for them as you are probably doing right now. I woke up at 4 am with the thought again of them out there and with no clue as to what to do with the scene I was given before me. I had woke thinking about that folding chair the one boy had slung over his shoulder, an unusual item for the winter that just hit us. My theory is that he wouldn’t have to sleep on the ground.

As I sit here and write this I only hope for the best outcome for them, that this will be a small time that they are out there. This is not meant to be and I know as a mother I would be worrying  where my son was and if he was safe. If you asked me right now if they were okay in there world, I would say no. silverw

Family, Intuition, Story Teller

Little Girl, Big Dreams

Old creepy house built in the 30’s, partial dirt basement with an old stone furnace with many pipes, much like an octopus, going every which way to heat the upstairs. Drafts that came from a crawl space in the side of a wall which you could open by taking a 5×5 piece of wood that was attached and held by two wooden fasteners. It was dank and musty and cool when we deigned to play in there or to retrieve the Christmas decorations. One of those octopus arms came in through one wall of the bedroom and into the other wall where the crawl space was. The steps to the upstairs was creaky and narrow and you really had to watch your way or one could trip which as a child I often did.

The one bedroom down there had two double beds, one sitting along side that crawl space wall and the other facing it. As a 9 year old I have to say my imagination some nights went wild with fear. Did I hear something shuffling along the floor? What was that bang, so light? I felt as though eyes were watching me and my skin had eternal goosebumps. My dreams were nightmares some evenings and then others like heaven sent. My mother in her wisdom had a medicine pouch made for me to put around my neck as I slept. It smelled…like..crazy. I suppose she was tired of me running helter skelter up those crickity stairs in the middle of the night to get away from I don’t know what. By the morning it would be on the floor or under my pillow but never around my neck as she had placed it. She took it away from me considering it a lost cause.  By the time I was 16 years old I was tired of this home and went to live with my half brother and his new family, thankfully.

Empathically I was picking up something but having no basis to what was going on in my tired mind, to having no one support me in my child like feelings. Many years now I may having a thought to what it could have been all along. Spirit, perhaps?

Family, Story Teller

5 Days In July

This morning I had the urge, huge urge to get in my car, travel to a pilgrimage an hour away from my city, a nice drive out in the country to the lake. And when I parked the car I heard my name called a few times, “Gail! Gail!!” trying to get my attention. My mother, bless her heart was in a vehicle with two of my aunts parked a few cars down. I knew that this was providence and going to be a fun day even though the services would be solemn but joyous. Love the singing part myself!

Lac Ste. Anne is a site for the annual pilgrimage, a spiritual gathering with many hundreds in attendance. Here follows what Parks Canada explains in more detail than I could.

“Lac Ste. Anne Pilgrimage is a site of national historic significance because as early as 1889, Aboriginal people, including Cree, Dene, Blackfoot and Métis, have been coming to Lac Ste. Anne to celebrate the Feast of Saint Anne. Saint Anne embodies, for many Aboriginal peoples, the traditional importance of the grandmother figure. For the Aboriginal people of Western and Northwestern Canada, the pilgrimage site is an important place of social, cultural and spiritual rejuvenation, which are important aspects of the traditional summer gathering.”

An outdoor church, a huge building that seated hundreds under that wooden roof with many benches was the first time for me to experience this since I was a child. The service took no time at all and after I walked towards the lake as it is known for its healing waters. In ankle deep water and watching others going way deeper, I said my prayer, the whole reason I came.

People come from near and far for this event and my mom introduced me to long lost relatives from my father’s side of the family. My Aunt Violet, seeing me for the first time since I was a baby couldn’t get over the family resemblance and frankly neither could I. Her son Dennis and his son, Raymond and I made an instant connection, just like we knew each other for the longest time. No sooner had I met them there were more cousins that came over to say hello.  That was pretty darn cool to meet this friendly bunch, getting to know each other and then hugging each other goodbye. I sure hope to see them again!

There were many vendors and I was walking along and spied my Aunt Bertha who I met a couple of years ago. My dad and her were inseparable and when he would come into the city he would stay with her. She was telling me stories today about him, how impeccable he was. Always cleaning and keeping everything neat and tidy including her children. I started to tear up as I really never knew what made this man tick. But it also made me laugh because I picked up on his ways. For me everything has to be perfect.

So there you have it. That huge urge to make this trip and not only to see what this pilgrimage was about with my adult eyes but also to walk into wonder and connection for my emotional being. Dad, I know you are watching me from where ever you are and I thank you for making my day!

Aunt Bertha

Intuition, Story Teller

Was that the wind?

I was always a very independent child, able to look out for herself. I had this sense of responsibility to myself growing up almost with no adult supervision. Don’t get me wrong, mom was kind of there but working and then tired or out for the night with friends. I was often left with babysitter’s, relatives, or my favorite, my grandparents until grandmother passed away. I have memories of me as a small child being pushed through a window as the babysitter had lost the keys and the window suddenly slamming down on my poor baby fingers slicing the tip. My mother coming in a rush after the doctor’s stitched and bandaged me up. Mad, she was.

The babysitters were not very reliable and often mean to a little 4-5 year old. I had one even pull a knife and had me cornered. My heart thumping and thinking my little life was over, very frightened and scared and wanting mom. I got out of that with my humor and likability. Cuteness has its ways. After that I was always trying to be ahead of what the other person might attempt to do with me and I wasn’t about to let that happen. Even at that young age. So I think on this and know that is when the intuition kicked in. When there was that tightness in my tummy, that was my warning signal. I have always had that.

Mom had divorced my real father and re-married shortly after and we then moved into a 1935 bungalow with a half dirt basement with an old stone furnace that made a whoosing sound every time it turned on. I shared a bedroom with my older cousin down there and at times the air space was comfy and at times my spidey senses were on high alert. I would scramble to my mother, practically skinning my knees on the stairs to get to her, to tell her that something was staring at me or I would feel a cool breeze rush by. I was told that I was imagining all this, to stop reading my crazy books about fairies and such and get back to bed. If only I could go back and tell that little girl that it was alright, to tell what ever, spirit wise, that it should go away. This went on for many years and even when my stepfather renovated the basement and made it quite livable there was still a cold spot once in a while, always in the same place. I was never so happy in my life when I moved out on my own never to have to think of ways to avoid the basement. The memory is long and these are important times in my life that make me wonder how as a child that I relied on my own spirit to get me through those days. But it is what it is and I am who I am for it. There are many instances about nightmares, things that go bump in the night and just knowing, but I leave that for another day.6 or 7 year old me~

Story Teller

Where have I been!!

It’s been a whirlwind of activity in my part of the world, photographing the Gay Pride Parade in June, was it?

Life is a Parade~

Taking it to the Streets!!
Taking it to the Streets!!

Diva

Loved taking the images of this parade, loved the colors and all the imagery! It was a busy day with many people lining the streets for about 12 blocks.

My next foray into the wild of my city brought me to the Wounded Warrior Poker Run to raise funds and awareness for post traumatic stress disorder by a wonderful lady who is walking across Canada. As Kate MacEachern states, “By horse and by foot, our team will cross 3 provinces in 3 months and over 2700 kms. We are fundraising along with generating awareness so please follow us, and get involved – no support is too small!”

http://www.thelongwayhome.ca/

The Long Way Home~ http://www.thelongwayhome.ca/
The Long Way Home~
http://www.thelongwayhome.ca/

Then it onto the Torresan Brothers Memorial Concert to raise funds for a roof of the family that tragically lost there 2 sons in a vehicle accident exactly 2 years ago yesterday. This was held @ a well known medium in our area, Carmel Joy Baird’s ranch. Quite a few people also showed up for this event to partake in readings given to them by Carmel’s student’s as well as the silent auction and entertainment from Colleen Rae, Darrell Barr, Bobby Cameron and Tim Isberg. Fun afternoon it  and busy snapping those images and meeting some new people!Colleen Rae

Mix that into this active life I have is the Brunch for Broads. This idea started back in April 2013 to introduce my old friends to my new friends as we all had something in common. That brunch at Pack Rat Louie’s started with five and has now grown to 455 members! Just getting out for a few hours having lunch and gabbing with the girls is something that we all need every couple of months.
It has also changed from just getting together for lunch to having venues where there is a charity of choice for each hostess that organizes her event with the help of volunteers. We usually have a variety of entertainment to choose from in our city as every one is always willing to help especially when it comes down to a good cause. One of the entertainers stated the other day that they should give our city motto as, “City of Fundraisers!” Our last venue was in June and we were lucky to have three Fire Fighters from the local fire hall to sell 50/50 tickets for Muscular Dystrophy and for entertainment some stand up comedians. So all in all my life is pretty busy and that is the way I like it from Saging someone’s new home to doing photography at a event to some down time with the other half wandering the roads of my province. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

And here to present the door prize to Deb, one of our BFB alumni were 3 handsome firemen!
And here to present the door prize to Deb, one of our BFB alumni were 3 handsome firemen!
Story Teller

Haiku Much..

Grade 5 was the year our teacher, Mrs. Fraser decided it was high time to be writing haiku’s. Try as I might I just couldn’t get the concept. We had started the year with geography class drawing maps of Japan. That should have been my first clue that something was amuck. I should have known Mrs. Fraser had something up her sleeve. Then we doing more projects for social studies about the culture of Japan. Slowly but surely she was coming to that day when in language arts class she explained the concept of 5 syllables on the first line, 7 syllables in the second and 5 on the third, the haiku.  I may have copied something, somewhere and turned that in, to get through it.

And so it was that I actually wrote a haiku after these many, many years and even though it was not about nature I think I did particularly well. It was the morning after a very loud party in the neighborhood involving a crowd of young people, a fire pit and accoutrement’s that go along with this type of bash. There was one girl who was having an exceptionally good time laughing and talking for all to hear throughout the night.

A party next door
Talks loudly with beer in hand
Will be sick for days!

 

That’s pretty much what I was thinking as I would wake from my slumber every once in a while…poor girl. But she was my muse, my inspiration to finally achieve my haiku the next morning. I wonder what kind of grade Mrs. Fraser would have given me for this one?