DodgeBall

Sometimes the lines are clearly marked to indicate which spaces are within a game to play and which are not. The rules of engagement are decided upon prior to the activity commencement. Everyone understands how to achieve the goal, in this case, be the last person standing that hasn’t been plowed by the ball.

I remember physEd and the eventual assembling of the teams to play. Back then we were less politically correct and called it “murder ball”.  The object of the game was to hit your opponents as hard as you could to leave a welt on the side of their leg. Kids can be pretty mean when they are left without supervision to set their own boundaries. I digress with my childhood memories of trauma in the gym. The point is still relevant though. As kids we test boundaries. It’s part of a natural curiosity and establishes an understanding of how far we can go without crossing lines. As we get older, we take those lessons into our relationships, careers and expand our domains. If we have learned healthy ways to deal with the balance of give and take we thrive with hopefully fewer people who want to leave welts on our psyche. I am under the impression that there are quite a number of us who perhaps didn’t have the most positive examples to learn these valuable applications from. The world appears to be in a state of dodgeball.

The point I am trying to make is about boundaries, not necessarily the game of dodgeball. We do play quite a bit of dodgeball as adults. We test our level of mental toughness while we decide which lines we want to draw and which we want to cross or erase. Lots of opportunities to make ourselves vulnerable to potential hits if we don’t set clear expectations or learn to communicate our feelings and wishes in a way that lets others know what we are willing to risk in order to survive. 

Like the game, the number of participants declines in our own personal spaces as we get older and more ingrained in our thinking and habits. Can you list your non-negotiable boundaries? For me, I can think of some that are easy to share: You can’t smoke in my house, I don’t tolerate physical violence. Those I can say with confidence to anyone.

 Some get a bit trickier though. I don’t smoke but on occasion I have been known to smoke a cigar with a good glass of whisky. I don’t tolerate violence but I do believe in defending yourself and those you love. See what I mean? We are already blurring the lines of established markers.

I believe in freedom of speech and expression. Where do you draw this line though when these days everything you say and do is up for discussion and review? Can you safely have an opinion without feeling like you have to defend your constitutional right to choose what you put in your body and what you don’t? Oh, I am sure that hits a few nerves in this politically charged arena we now all live in as teams get selected and filtered.

I have been watching and reading about varied opinions of our current political and social consciousness. Where have our boundaries gone? I no longer have confidence that I understand the rules of the game. As I try to sort out my own personal feelings in how I conduct myself, communicate intimately and more universally I find that I am more inclined to self censor. When did that happen? I have never been that outspoken as to join protesters marching for a cause. I have participated in passive activities like running for cancer funds or canvasing for charities. I am a lover not a fighter…that folks is another boundary…lol.

I hope you get what I am trying to say here? It seems harder and harder to stand firm in beliefs that no longer seem to hold elements of truth and compassion for others. In this big “Dodgeball” game we find ourselves now embroiled in, I am looking to see which side I am on. Do I need to pick a side or can I just sit on the bleachers? Do I have a choice? I think I do and yet choices seem to be setting more and more lines around us. It’s a curious situation don’t you think?

Council Of Community

I have decided to start therapy. For many reasons. I have had a couple of sessions already and it’s been enlightening. Betterhelp.com is trying something new by connecting people all over the world with a group therapy session. The therapist is an expert in the related field and you can choose from many topics and time slots. I thought I would give it a try.

What have I learned so far? 

There are plenty of others suffering the same kind of feelings, issues and trauma that I am in this world. Not surprising, just comforting to know.I can help by telling my story and being open to discussion. I get help by telling my story and being open. I struggle with being vulnerable. Trust is a topic I have mentioned numerous times on this blog and my lack of it. Somehow it’s easier to trust and be vulnerable with strangers than it is with your intimate network of support. 

The group I attended yesterday was on managing grief.  A question was posed about why join a group like this now? It was clarified with what it is about the upcoming holidays that makes dealing with death so much harder? Well darn, I hadn’t really made the connection between the time of year and my choice of groups until it was highlighted. 

Christmas is a challenge for me at the best of times. I am not a big fan of the whole concept or all it has come to represent. When the kids were younger I did get caught up in making sure they got all they wanted and more. I remember being young and the reality that there were seven of us to buy for. My parents did amazing by getting us each at least one thing close to what we had asked for. I look back now on the way I acted and wish I would have been more grateful for their effort. I guess that’s why we grow to have insight and awareness. You have to experience the challenges in life to understand the depth of selflessness. 

My sister, who passed away, loved Christmas. She went as far as to set up several trees in the basement of one of her houses. She called it her Christmas forest. We used to sit in her forest and drink wine. It was lovely and I miss her enthusiasm for the season. 

The grief session brought up memories I had not examined for a while. My brother in law died on Christmas morning in 2014. I was there with my sister and their family. It was one of my saddest Christmases and yet it was one of my most peaceful. As we sat in his room listening to him struggle for breaths, the sound of each breath was a gift. One more moment, one more opportunity to tell him how much he was loved. 

The Christmas before my mom died we decided to make cookies for everyone. I always tend to go overboard and buy enough ingredients to make cookies for a hundred people. Monster cookies are everyone’s favorite and thanks heavens the cookie dough freezes well. What a wonderful day I had with my mom. Doing what she loved to do which was spending time with her girls and making something to give to someone else. I baked my last roll of cookie dough last Christmas. It was emotional to let it go of something that linked me so directly with my mom.

The group was a big help to give me common ground with others who showed up to talk about the same thing. We were all there to gain support and realize our stories were different but there is an abundance of commonality to discover. Being sensitive to family who get upset when you try to talk about your feelings of grief is hard. Most people don’t want to talk about it let alone see you shed tears. If you hold it in then it becomes a waiting game. The level of the dam rises until the pressure can’t be contained anymore. Somethings gotta give.  The timing of the burst will happen at the worst circumstances. Releasing the pressure is healthy and required to heal the heart.

It was a good session. It was hard and at first, uncomfortable but necessary and freeing.

My heart is full of gratitude as the season unfolds. I am grateful that I have many memories of my loved ones who have passed. Many Christmases celebrated with them even though I would have rather stayed home and let the holidays pass by unopened. Those moments of sharing and expressing joy are my most precious gifts now. I can open them anytime, anywhere to help give me peace when I need it.

I would recommend Betterhelp.com to anyone who needs an affordable platform to get help dealing with anything. It has helped me to appreciate the value of having a community available to reach out to.

Ode To Max’s Joy 

Sometimes we get so wrapped up in taking life seriously that we forget about the joy. We become afraid to try new things or dust off something we used to love to do. Passions fade and auto-pilot becomes the norm instead of the exception. At these times I think a jolt of joy is needed to get moving again. It doesn’t have to be big or epic. I have been thinking about selfless service lately and ways to keep my body moving. Why the combo? The first one helps with a sense of positivity of action. Making a difference in someone else’s life helps to put me in a better headspace. The second has to do with the production of endorphins that help regulate my mental health. I know that exercise does my body good. When I am in motion, I can focus, think more clearly and sort out my busy mind. Some of my favorite meditations are done while walking or in a yoga flow.

I took my sister’s puppy for a walk today. It’s her first week back at work from a leave and the stress is piling up. There is something wonderful about a dog’s unbridled joy and curiosity to explore their surroundings. They sniff everything, they check out every nook and cranny. Run here then run over there (thanks heavens he is a small dog). Everything is there for them to discover. As we chased each other down the path it felt fun to just be in that moment. 

Someone said the older we get the less likely we are to try new things. I think the opposite is true. The older I get the more likely I am to just “go for it”. Our number of days gets shorter and shorter. If we wait we may never experience that euphoric feeling of letting go and running free. The collar gets tighter and tighter. The leash we are tethered to becomes short. Opportunity to go off leash and roam can be taken away at any moment. One of the most apparent lessons from COVID has been taking our ability to travel without restrictions for granted. It was so easy to book a flight, accommodations and a few adventures the day you wanted to take off. Now a large amount of the spontaneity has been curtailed.

One thing we can still do in abundance is selfless service. It doesn’t have to be complicated, just genuine.

Evergreen – Sharon’s Take On It

 retaining freshness or interest : perennial. b : universally and continually relevant : not limited in applicability to a particular event or date.

https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/evergreen

I read Vanessa’s post today about finding meaning in the song “Evergreen” and it got me thinking about my interpretation.

My first reaction was “Ha! Right – love everlasting.” If you’ve read my posts over the past year, you know that hasn’t happened for me. Each time, I thought it was FINALLY the “evergreen” relationship – one that would stand the test of time, weather storms, and maintain its individuality – while being part of a forest ecosystem – for its natural life.

In my experience, it’s not been love everlasting with one person. Each time, it was fresh and interesting – absolutely. Each time, I thought it was forever. Love is a basic human need; one that is universally and continually relevant. While many people put everything into making their wedding day special, love is not applicable to that particular event or date. It’s in the day-to-day living, the little things, that keep it fresh and interesting.

The Universe timed Vanessa’s post perfectly. It came a few days after Martin and I talked about what love means to us, and a day before our two year anniversary.

Martin and I are past the point where we believe love is eternal. Like the evergreen tree, it can be perennial if nourished and continues to grow, but there’s no certainty. A fire can take out a forest of evergreens. A landslide can rip them out by the roots. A drought can stunt their growth and, over time, starve them. The best we can do is see ‘evergreen love’ as a possibility and strive to make it happen.

We make it happen by having shared interests and experiences. We explore new things and places together. We have a shared understanding of what love means and similar expectations as to where it will go.

As a concept, “love” is ageless and unchanging. The reality of it is anything but that. Love changes over time. At the beginning, partners can’t get enough of each other and want to spend every waking minute talking or being together. I remember when Martin told me he loved me. He HAD to talk to me everyday while he was at work. When on night shift, he’d wake 30 minutes early to have time to call me. You need to know he is someone who despises talking on the phone and is chronically tired when working 12 hour nights. He’s a true introvert and very comfortable with solitude. Such is the power of love in the initial phase.

Over time, we become familiar with each other. As the saying goes, “Familiarity breeds contempt”, OR, it can breed deeper love. Now, we agree to talk twice a week when he’s at work. We text twice a day. If we were stuck in the first phase, this would be upsetting for both of us. It’s not. Our love has grown. It acknowledges both his needs and mine. We reach compromises that work for both of us.

Unlike the evergreen tree who is at the mercy of Mother Nature, we choose to continue growing together. If either one of us stops nurturing the relationship, it will die. It’s a joint effort. This isn’t to say the effort is always equal. Sometimes we each need to put in more to keep the relationship working. It’s acknowledging and respecting the efforts of each other that’s important.

Just as an evergreen can’t take necessary amounts of rain, soil or sunshine for granted, neither can humans assume love will simply occur. It’s not a result of a particular day or time. It’s the result of care, attention and opportunities for growth that keep love truly “evergreen”.

Evergreen

I have been taking a creative writing class online the past few weeks. The class’s main objective is to find a way to pull your memories of life experiences and write about them. I was intrigued by one of the exercises. The objective was to go to a website that matched music to a certain year. Put in the year that you turned 13. A magical year am I right??? Pick one of the songs that comes up for that year. Listen to it and then take some time and write about what comes up based on the song choice. I scanned the songs and came back to one of my childhood favorites. I loved the movie “A Star Is Born” with Barbra Streisand and Kris Kristofferson. I know this isn’t the original movie version nor the most recent. Let’s just say it has been worthy of a few remakes. Each time the musical score has been just as good as the movies. Ok back to the song. 

Evergreen. Such simple and straightforward lyrics. Appealing to a 13 year old girl’s desires and ideals of what love should feel and look like. The song still has it, even after all this time has passed. 

“Spirits rise and their dance is unrehearsed” 

There are no guarantees when it comes to matters of the heart. We put a whole lot of trust in another being without any way to know the final outcome. It’s what makes the dance so inviting. The thrill of taking a chance to have a partner that shares your journey.

“Time won’t change the meaning of one love”

I am not sure I agree with the songwriter here. Time does change or at least clarifies what love means between two people. The longer you are together the more density is added to it. When you are a teenager love means instant gratification, adoration, ego driven rewards. As time passes shared hardships, support, respect, feeling valued and heard all raise what is meant by one love.

“Ageless and ever, evergreen”

What is meant by evergreen?  According to many definition sources, the gist is that it stays constant in color no matter the season or conditions. Doesn’t falter and stays universally and continually relevant. Wow, that’s a tall order to fill don’t you think?

What if when we say “I do” we promise to never falter, never change our loyalty no matter what and pledge to stay relevant in each other’s lives?

The 13 year old brain thinks that would be very easy to do. Relationships at that age are mostly based on simple needs and wants. Add layers of experience, years of twists, turns and disappointments to the joy of having kids, building your sanctuary together and here we are many moons later. 

My 57 year old self thinks a little differently about love these days. I believe it is constantly changing. I am not convinced it’s evergreen. For me it’s more of a Larch. In a state of adapting and evolving to meet the current circumstances.

If you are interested in doing this exercise the course is called “Pulling Memory Into The Present” hosted by Ashley C Ford on Skillshare.

The Littlest Hobo

Day 5 of Vanlife

After our visit to the “edge” of Writing On Stone, we decided a calm, quiet night near a body of water was the perfect destination for our last night on the road. One of the great things about living near an enormous wide open land is it’s pretty easy to find a parking space tucked into a crop of bushes or trees near a water source.

We settled in and brought out the propane fireplace. With the vans set in caravan style facing front to back we had ourselves a cozy shelter. I looked down on the ground near the van and had to smile. There was this little plastic dog. I was just asking my brother if he had seen the coyote on the side of the road as we drove on what seemed like endless gravel roads that day. He had. I picked up the “Littlest Hobo” and posed him in different positions to play with the lighting features against the sunset on my phone. The contrast of the light as the world settles down to sleep has always fascinated me. The energy conversion from day to night is seamless, automatic and yet, no two sunsets are exactly the same. Every night we get the chance to make subtle changes to our perspective.

Littlest Hobo

What am I supposed to change here? How can any of us know what the right thing to do in our lives is? I have made the best and well thought out plans before only to have it pulled out from under me and turned upside down. Here I am still. I am here. I am alive and I am aware of myself and others around me.

I sat thinking about this for some time that night. The older I get the more I realize decisions made in crisis mode are usually not the best decisions. It took years to get me here, there is no rush to move me over there. Does that make sense?

The morning dawned crisp and clear. The sun was out and we still had fried bologna and pancakes to make for breakfast. Do you remember as a kid fried bologna sandwiches? They were delicious in my childhood. They are not so delightful now. Somehow someone has gone out of their way to make bologna taste and smell like wet cardboard. The pancakes were good though with a little bit of peanut butter and cinnamon honey.

We packed up and brought our new found vanmate on the road with us spending the rest of the day slowly making it back towards homebase.

We drove into the carport of my mom’s old home and both sat in our separate vans for a bit soaking in the last moments before coming down from the roaming high. I went to move my car and saw that it had a flat tire. Sigh, of course it does. I just laughed. My brother looked at me again puzzled by my responses. What could I say? It happens to me all the time. A series of obstacles appear and I set about sorting them out, walking around them, through them or fixing them. We got the spare tire on and put the van to rest for a bit.

So how was vanlife? There are definitely some kinks to work out and lots to fix or change. The bed is a little short, the electrical needs some overhaul, I need an inspection done for sure. Despite all that? I love it! I have always liked to explore. I like the freedom of going only as far as you feel like in a day then seeing what the place you land has to offer up. I am usually not disappointed to find something to spark some joy in my soul even if it’s just a plastic dog randomly lost in a farmers field.

A fellow adventurer waiting to join me on my journey.

About Face

A few weeks ago, my sister in law notified me that my face showed up on a Facebook page with someone asking if anyone could identify this person. My image was found on a cell phone I had lost on the summit of Mount Ward in the Crowsnest Pass. It was amazing that they had found the phone as I had lost it descending down on my butt over a mountain side of scree. Here is the remarkable part. I was up there in August of 2019. That’s over 3 years ago. Think back how much has changed in the last 3 years. For me? I lost my mom, I lost my job, COVID happened and I almost lost my sense of self.

As I look at the face staring out from the phone that shouldn’t be working, let alone sporting my face on the cover, I marvel at our ability for resilience. That woman captured is me but yet, is not me. She is restless and ready for change. She is tired and grieving over so much loss in the last few years. She is there with her two great nieces enjoying a warm summer day doing what she loves to do. Exploring uncharted territory and pushing herself to go further and harder.

Phone still works after 3 years!

Sometimes I am not sure where the strength comes from. It just appears and I am always grateful to the universe for providing it to me. I sat on the top of the summit enjoying the sun and view as the girls explored further up and around. I saw 3 crows in the distance. They were making a big racket and circling overhead. I watched them for a bit then noticed behind them that some big dark rain clouds were starting to form. Anyone who has been hiking in the mountains knows to start down when that happens. Hopefully you can outrun the storm, most often I am not that lucky. I was about to holler for the girls to come and they appeared ready to head out. I happened to look down and found the most unique rock I had ever seen. I had been thinking about the crows and their warning that the weather was about to change. The rock appeared to have a crow flying over the mountains on it. It was pale yellow with a black image of a crow. I picked it up and put it in my backpack. In hindsight, I wish I would have done the same thing to my phone which I placed in my coat pocket tied around my waist.

As the clouds got darker, we started to slide down on our backsides. It was treacherous and slow going. Over half way down I realized my phone wasn’t in my pocket anymore. There was no way I could go back up and try and find it. We had been zigzagging and moving over a large space of rock and debri. It could have been anywhere. Like a needle in a haystack. I resigned myself to either come back a different day or say “goodbye” to the pictures from that day.

I got a new phone and reclaimed quite a bit of my pictures, chats and music as I usually back up stuff to the cloud. I was missing the photos we had taken that day which was too bad. When I reloaded my messenger chats I was heartbroken to see my conversation with my sister who had passed away in 2016 wasn’t coming back up. It took some letting go to say “goodbye” to the conversation I had treasured.

Time goes by and I have had 3 phones since then. Every once in a while I would think about the phone and wonder if it was still alive. What view it had looking out over the barren terrain. Saying good morning to the crows and other creatures who passed by. My face is smiling out on that mountain side I thought. Never did I think it still worked after all that time.

I have been in contact with the mother of the guy who found it and will go pick it up some time soon. She said that several people had recognized the woman in the photo and let her know the phone belonged to me. The hat I am wearing I have taken on so many adventures. It’s kind of my signature look for exploring…lol.

Thinking about the phone and it’s adventures, I happened to glance through my messenger chats. I was drawn to the one with my sister, hoping that for some miraculous reason the conversation would reappear after all this time. I was amazed to see that it had. Everything was there again. My history with my sister has come back to me now. Years and years of conversation came tumbling down the mountain side to land at my feet.

Why now? So much has happened since 2016. I thought that was my low point but it wasn’t. Both of my parents died in the years after my sister’s passing. Despite all of the pain, grief and loss, I feel more alive today than ever before. I am living life on my terms in my own way. Choosing my adventures, love, spiritual paths and sense of self.

I am awake. I have lived many lives since I lost that phone. I am grateful for it’s reappearance to remind me to be grateful for what I have.

Once again the energy shifts and tilts the balance back.

I have a desire to put the phone back on the mountain. 

Stay tuned to see what I decide….lol

Love you all that keep reading our posts and coming along on our journeys through midlife.

Light and love.

We Are Family

I got my brother and sisters with me…

I decide to pull out the old rotten carpet out of the cab of the van only to discover that the floor has some serious looking rust spots. It’s been a couple of weeks since I came upon the damage and it’s been a cause for concern. My whole career has been based on solving problems. Taking complex learning and translating it into easy to follow steps for others to understand and use. This situation is no different. I got a hole and it needs to be fixed.

My sister and brother in law just happened to be down for the weekend. They are a handy pair. I have always admired my sister’s choice of professions. She had spent many years in the Canadian Air Force as a metal fabricator working on airplanes. I found out my brother in law has some experience with welding. My brother, well he is a jack of all trades and has been helping me with the project since day 1. So, in true project management fashion, I assembled the very competent team of experts who are up for the challenge and we get to work. 

With resources and know-how in place we decide a change of clothes is necessary to tackle the potentially dirty job. My sister bought my mom’s old house and some of the contents are still there. My mom’s coat still hangs in the closet next to the kitchen door. It’s coming up on the two year anniversary of my mom’s death in September. As I stand in her bedroom looking for something to wear in the closet I am overwhelmed with her presence. I take a couple of shirts off the hangers and smell them. Oh mom, they still smell like you. You are still here. Tears well up as I close my eyes for a moment. This is a pretty big hole we are trying to fix. Not just on the van floor but my heart. I hear my mom talking to me from other rooms as I walk through the house. She would call from the living room when you entered from the kitchen door to welcome you. Sometimes I can hear her voice echo through the space.

The family has had its share of challenges over the last few years and yet here we are coming together to problem solve and rebuild this van. I have heard you can’t choose your family. I am glad for that because you never know what you might need at any given moment. The universe is a way better judge on future needs than I am.

It takes some discussion and a few brainstorming sessions but finally we get to work patching the worn floor. Grinding away the rust where we can and applying new support when needed. I can’t help but make the comparison between the work on the van and work being done to heal our family relationships. You have to clear away the toxins that eat at your dynamics. Find new ways to communicate and come together. Mom would be ecstatic to see us all collaborating and getting along.

The van has helped us to find ways to connect again. It’s been a new beginning for me too. I am using tools I never thought I would have the confidence to even try. A little patience from my brother and determination to continue the work has made me excited about the possibilities for future projects and work.

We are family, I got my brother and sisters with me. I am truly blessed.

Me+Us+I+You=We

As a coach in my previous life in corporate banking, I became very accustomed to using first person pronouns to describe who was the owner of actions or feelings. I have been thinking about relationship dynamics and the intersections of “Me” to “US” and “I” to “You”. 

My daughter told my husband that we are both very stubborn people. I agree and we are both very strong in our opinions. We both have known we are very different and yet, in the past, have found ways to connect. As we get older and more set in our ways, it has become harder to compromise and find our way to a common grounding. I admit we have struggled and sometimes it feels easier just to throw in the towel and move on.

I can’t help but think I am not yet done learning all I can about myself and behaviors from this man. He challenges me in my core thinking. We expressed our feelings to each other in letters, texts and some verbal. I didn’t like what he said and he didn’t like what I said but we both listened, asked questions to clarify what we meant and then spent time trying to figure if we could still be compatible together. 

I get his points when he says that I feel I can express my feelings and he should respect and accept them because they are mine. He does stuff I don’t like, he says things I don’t want to hear. I asked him to apologize for things he has said to me and he asked if I feel like I should apologize for the way I feel and things I have said? 

I said “no” I meant what I said. At the time, he meant what he said too. So where does this leave the “US”?

I know that I respect him for his honesty towards me.

Can I keep the “ME” in “US”? We seem to be in different stages of life. I have decided not to go back to work anytime soon. He works full time. I want to travel and explore the world while our health is good and we are mobile. Can we create our own balance without driving each other crazy? We both have agreed we don’t know. We have been figuring it out one day at a time for over 36 years. For us, we know that we are at our best when we are connecting on every level. We travel well together, we have built a life together. We are unconventional in our partnership management system but so what?

Neither of us want to end this story yet so we have agreed to continue. To find ways to build our new chapters that include the “Me” in “US” and the “I” and “YOU in our “WE”

Blank Canvas

Starting from scratch. Am I crazy?

I sat in the van the other day and stared at its current state. My old thinking is still wanting to rule the day. The interior is good enough just do some cosmetic stuff and move on. I struggled with those sentiments for a few more minutes and then all the sudden the sledge hammer in my hand found a purpose. Before I knew it half the walls were down and the van had twice the space.

Sometimes you fight change until the urge to shift within just can’t handle it anymore. Picking the option that makes you feel like you have settled in life only delays things. It never really sits right until you do “that thing”. You know, that thing that is whispered in your ear over and over again. There was a wonderful lady I got to interview at the ashram named Jean Roberts. She wrote a book about her life as an island girl growing up in Grenada. How she grew up in oppression and decided to run away at a very young age.

I left home at 16 and lived with a couple of sisters. I worked and supported myself through high school. It seemed so much easier then to make decisions without worrying too much about how they affected others around you. The world revolved around my teenage life and I was creating canvases by the dozens. Thought nothing of painting over them and moving on.

I will be 57 in 2 months. It’s been a lifetime of changes. I am not my 16 year old self for sure. Thank heavens!

Sharon’s latest post talks about living adventures through my posts. It’s not lost on me how she and I are always peeking over the fence at each other. I envy her ability to make decisions about relationships and move forward in that regard. Put on her big girl panties and move into a better light. I understand the hesitation to make the first strokes on the canvas. I ask myself often what I am afraid of when it comes to being alone. If my partner doesn’t see my vision and has no desire or interest to explore the possibilities with me then ….what am I waiting for? A sign? Hmmm I have had plenty of those, a sledge hammer in my hand? I have one of those too? A push? Maybe.

My friend Sharon and I are at that place in life where our whole world is about to change. The post COVID blues I think. The universe is opening up again so now what?

For me? I have an empty canvas in the form of a tiny home to consider how “I” for the first time in my life want to create a haven just for me. Sharon has a new condo, new job and new life. I am excited for both of us to face our fears and build our confidence in ourselves. Maybe even build a bit of confidence in others. My brother has been helping me with the demolition. We have barely spoken over the last 40 years. Now we are collaborating almost daily. I am finding my voice and figuring out what I want to say. I am exploring new pallets and variations of light and color. It is changing my perspective for the good.

It’s healthy and positive to clear space. So many possibilities to explore now that the demolition has started.

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