More from the morning pages...

Several months since my last blog entry is indeed a very very long time. Especially considering the claims I made last blog entry about writing more, taking excerpts out of my journal etc. All just lip service I suppose.
I am starting to wonder about the purpose of this blog. My profile is out of date. I would no longer describe myself as a "cyclist in the far north," or that "passions" alone are enough to capture my heart in friendship or love.
I don't really know where to begin with blog updates, or even a profile description for that matter. I have a hard time summing up who i am in two years of meditation, never mind a short and sweet online post.
Do i even enjoy blogging any more? What i really want to write about is my grief journey - it is the only area i really feel passionate about. But, part of me keeps saying "keep it for the book" - the book that gets worked on even more rarely than this blog. OH well, the intention is there...it will transpire in time.

Tonight i am at home, having some much needed "Sandy Time," which involves drinking wine and reading old journals. I thought i would write some of my favorite stories and quotes...mostly just to write something, and because i secretly love everything i write.

March 20th.
Its Thursday today. Spring equinox at 5:48am. That is the time the sun crosses over the equator into the northern hemisphere. It is the time we get our sun back, to warm and light our bodies that have been without it for so long. Tomorrow night is the full moon. What a time for new beginnings, or perhaps it is a time in which light is shed on the parts of us that have been dark for too long. Parts of ourselves that are peeking out around a corner saying, "is it safe for me to come out now?" The full moon, so they say, is fully reflecting the light of the sun, in the same way our soul is alight to the truth of the universe. The moon dazzles me. Its perfect whole shape. Its glowing light. Its waxing and waning. Its power. I always see the moon first, then sense the stillness, as I stand in my backyard with my head tilted to the sky. It's almost as though the moon, and it's radiant glow, reminds me of the vastness of our universe and the power of nature that we are a part of. You cannot gaze at the sun, which is unfortunate, but you can gaze at the moon. Metaphorically, the moon sheds light on darkness, lights a path where otherwise you may not see. I guess it does this literally as well.

March 22nd.
Change of season. Change of setting. I awoke at the lake today. At 5:11 the first time, then again, at the more reasonable time of 8:30. When i awoke, the dogs were restless to say the least. So, Kuma and I went for a stroll in the back paths. I strolled. She raced. She was one excited puppy - this is for sure. She was instantly 6 months old again, and very happy to be on a walk - ecstatic to be off leash. As she raced though the bushes, I assessed the damage - the frightened, but thankfully still camouflaged, white rabbit hiding on the white snow, and who knows what other creatures disturbed form their morning routines. She ran with abandon, until her tongue was hanging to her knees. Now she is sleeping beside me. Sprawled out on a fluffy dog bed, sun bathing and snoozing. This dozy fur ball, I call "the assassin." It's tough to believe at moments like this. Until a squirrel chirps and she is instantly up, listening and on guard. I trust her assessment of the situation. Any situation for that matter. I see her ears twitch in a certain direction before i even hear the threat - which is most likely one of three cars that drive by, or people walking to the end of the road. If she twitches her ears to the left, then gets up and stretches and stares down the road, I know Matt is driving towards the cabin. And, if she stands stiffly with her ears pricked and legs slightly flexxed and tense, i know it is a dog coming down the road, or one of the people who own a dog who she regularly stalks from the end of her leash. Oh, the assassin.
I thought she was going to assassinate me last night. I went outside to check on her, and found she had got herself tangled around two trees, a flower pot and the back end of a ski doo. I unclipped her leash and pulled it around and through the obstacles. She must have been in this predicament a while because she was sure excited to be freed. First she pounced at me, aiming to attack my feet. Next she used one paw and her head to try and trip me - a fancy move for a canine. She took full advantage of my mid calf sorrel boots, which she could easily grab with her mouth. I was trying to get away (yes, i was a little scared- she is way tougher than me), which was actually to her advantage because then she could come at me from behind. Combine her doggy ninja moves with the Chubakka-Meets-Cujo growl, and i was pretty sure she was going to have her way with me. I was relieved once she started to corn nibble the snow, as i realized she was just happy to be free.

And, the winner of the Best-Opening-Line-Of-My-Morning-Pages goes to:
March 26th.
So, do morning pages count if they are done in the morning, but from work? I slept in this morning, so in true efficiency style I have combined the two and here i am "working," only on my morning pages not on "work" in the traditional sense. I have my Starbucks and my favorite pen! Priorities...

OK, so I lied. I haven't made the best go of bringing the blog back. But, now I have a new idea.

Before I reveal my new grand idea, I have to explain what I have been up to. Since the middle of March, I have been receiving free creativity coaching, to progress me along the path of becoming a writer. Part of my coaching has been to get me to start doing morning pages. Morning pages, or as I like to call them - Mourning Pages- are three pages of long hand writing that you do first thing in the morning before your analytical, logical, conscious mind wakes up. The idea of this is to allow your creativity to flow from your dreaming, subconscious mind. The pages can be about anything and written any way. It is just 3 pages of stream of consciousness writing.

Now, for my idea: I have already completed one entire journal of mourning pages, and wanted to blog excerpts from it.

March 14th - Here I am in Canmore. I am sitting in Janka's family home, eating stale cheese that has been left out overnight. Well, not really. The partiers got home at 3am, and it is now 9:45am, so really only 6 hours. That's not too bad for cheese is it? Regardless, a few bites in I had to check to make sure the waxy paper was off - it is possible that in my starved, hungover state I simply forgot to think about the waxy paper...
I am making coffee...mmmm coffee. I hope no one gets up until I have had one cup at least.
I love being in the mountains. I love the drive, and seeing them for the first time. It's like seeing a long lost friend - only quieter and way more serene.
4 minutes to coffee.
Coffee is like my second favorite long lost friend - or maybe even my first. Talk about quiet comfort, serene acceptance, and uplifting company.
I got up this morning to write. That actually excites me. I wanted to get up to the silence and solitude of the house. Like the way i used to be - eager to meet the day with something productive and energizing. I am glad I have developed this new routine. I find these morning/mourning pages really empty my mind. Its like my head is a jug, the pen is the handle, and the ink the spout. Out pours everything and more, onto these pages.
I got up early to write about the mountains. The majestic forms that embrace this valley. My plan was foiled by the fact that it is overcast and snowing. I can't even see the mountains. Not like that really matters though. The mountains have an energy of solidity and safety all on their own. Its like when you arrive in the mountains at night, it just feels different. Whether it is the freshness in the air, or the smell of pine, I am not sure, but it is something. It is an expansive denseness, the solidity is so light it could almost be mistaken for subtle reassurance.
Whenever I look at the mountains I always wonder, "what are the animals doing now?" When it is cold an misty like this, when the mountain that envelops us is enveloped by a cloud, I wonder "what are the animals doing?" Maybe they are in their little burrows and dens sipping their coffee and admiring their mountains to.

Does this thing blog anymore??

Wow, long time, no blog. Turns out that not posting anything since April does not actually inactivate the blog. Which, I suppose, is a good thing as I want to bring back my blog!
"Why no post since April?" you ask.

Oh, where to begin.

I guess it was because when I went on a leave i wanted to seclude myself from the world that was causing me so much stress. I wanted to cocoon myself in my home and have some silence and solitude to contemplate my life and my next steps...even if it was when to brush my teeth and when to eat.

In my solitude, i found enough security to lose the need to try and make everyone understand what i was feeling. Trying to explain and put words to the intensity of my feelings proved to be an impossible undertaking, so I said, "Fuck it."

So, why bring back the blog?

I miss writing.

That said, I am going to "copy and paste" some lyrics from a song that sings true to me right now. (I know, very creative of me)

Beth Orton. I Wish I Never Saw The Sunshine.


Baby do you know what you did today?
Baby do you know what you took away?
You took the blue out of the sky
My whole life changed when you said goodbye
And I keep cryin'...cryin'
Oooh baby, oooh baby I wish I never saw the sunshine
I wish I never saw the sunshine
And if I never saw the sunshine baby
Then maybe...I wouldn't mind the rain
Every day is just like the day before
All alone, a million miles from shore
All of my dreams, I dream with you
Now they will die and never come true
And I keep cryin'...cryin'
Oooh baby, oooh baby I wish I never saw the sunshine
I wish I never saw the sunshine
And if I never saw the sunshine baby
Then maybe...I wouldn't mind the rain
This pain...
And I know there would not be
This cloud that's over me...everywhere I go
Oooh baby, oooh baby I wish I never saw the sunshine
I wish I never saw the sunshine
And if I never saw the sunshine baby
Then maybe...I wouldn't mind the rain
This pain...I wouldn't mind the rain
There wouldn't be this pain
I wouldn't mind the rain
wouldn't mind the rain

My Leave

The leave,
The surrender to the need
to leave.
But at the same time
return
to embrace what has left me.
And, to find what I forgot
I had.


I feel uninspired with what to write. Not uninspired...maybe more...vapid, insipid. My mind isn't racing with the need to purge anything.

My mind is more thoughtful and content to graciously ponder the mysteries of life. My leave from work has definitely given me the time and space to just BE. Just be. With little obligation and distraction. I have taken the time to get to know the innate wisdom that I have ignored for far to long. And that, I have found just by listening. Quietly. And actually hearing what is being said. Hearing with my entire being, not just my ego, which always places judgment and compares. No. I want to listen with all six of my senses. I want to listen to the girl in me who still loves faeries and mermaids. To my old soul which knows things I cannot fathom, yet I feel as deeply seeded peace. To the intelligent woman in me who tries to figure it all out, who has the courage to encounter that which pains her. To my higher power who carries the wisdom to understand the need to surrender to the mysteries of life. To my esoteric self who can embrace the paradox of encountering at the same time as surrendering. I want to be s-i-l-e-n-t so i can l-i-s-t-e-n to all of it. (See the anagram?)

I am practicing listening with my heart. In the words of Carl Jung "Your vision will be clear when you look into your heart. Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens."

And another quote - a tribute to the season that is taking forever to awaken:
"The buds swell imperceptibly without hurry or confusion, as if the short spring day were an eternity." ~Henry David Thoreau

Oh, p.s. Can I tell you a secret? The part of me that is listening to my affinity towards the magical, has started to act a little strange. The world of faeries, devas, and sprites has allured me long enough, and lately I have found myself responding. I have started to hug trees. I mean, really hugging them. Full body, eyes closed, tightly squeezing, extra long hugs. It's to the point where I don't even check for potential witnesses - I just hug. The best trees are the ones you can reach your arms right around. Seriously. Try it. Then comment on my blog and let me know if you liked it. Let me know if you felt the tree sprites.

Duality

4 days into my leave of absence, the wind has blown me many places. Kite skiing with Dawn and Russ, metaphysical counseling, and to a photography exhibit at the Provincial Museum. And, believe it or not, yesterday, the wind blew me back to work. There was some rule, hidden deep within the ancient texts of human resources, which stated I had to work one day before they would grant me a leave.

Armed with my "Grumpy Bear" T-shirt under my scrubs, I put my OT hat back on and went to work. I have to admit I was pretty pissy about the entire affair. However, when I got to work, I found myself actually enjoying it. As I got into the elevator, I thought, "at what point do we become complacent with our jobs and our daily routine?" At what point is it easier to just do what is routine and second nature, providing us with a shroud to protect us from areas of our life that are too painful? My mind was so focused on having 4 months off, and having the opportunity to delve into areas of my life outside of work. Then I find myself in the elevator at work, less than a week after starting my leave, and enjoying it. What?! What happened to my feelings of introspection? And my vow to not even think about work for 4 months?

It made me wonder, what are my true feelings? Are they the sadness I was feeling driving to work, or the happiness at work? Take that one step further…I am always thinking about Cam and missing him. But, what about those few times when I can say I actually had some fun. How does one define their true feelings over and above a sense of distraction or denial of them? At what point does one show up for work, knowing it is the last place they want to be, and then put a smile on their face and get the job done? Is this complacency? Is it true self-satisfaction? Or is it partly deceitful, leaving you unaware of other areas of your life that need urgent attention? Does it make it too easy to never attend to those dark places of the soul?

What about my self-identity? Right now, almost 100% of my self-identity is created through my role as an OT. If someone asks, "what do you do?" all I have to respond with is "I am an OT." Without racing, and training, and without Cam, how do I define myself in the world? Our loved ones are our emotional anchors and our mirrors. When Cam died I lost that mirror of myself. Cam helped to define me. He supported me, encouraged me, and was proud of my accomplishments. Through him, I defined myself. With the death of your "mirror" you lose the image of how that person sees you. You lose that unconditional reflection of your importance in the world, which is magnified because it is seen through the eyes of someone you love so much. You lose that emotional anchor in all you do.

I have never wanted to be defined solely by my work. Since Cam died, the fact that this is all I have to define myself has become increasingly stressful. I need that life outside of my job to make it feel like it is all worthwhile. I found work was giving me an avenue to fill the void, all the while, leaving me too drained to focus on the other areas of my self-identity. For other people, maybe work gives them solid ground to stand on, when they don't know who they are otherwise. I suppose everyone is different.

So, now I am on a leave. Now I don't have work (except for yesterday!). I don't have my OT role, but I do, but I don't, and I miss it, but I don't. And I don't have Cam (but I do) and I don't have biking (but I do), and I don't know who I am outside of work (but I do). And, I am happy, but I am sad. I'm sa-ppy. Sappy. Sad and happy all at the same time. I am loneful, angrathetic, hopcared, and have smears. (Loneful = lonely and full, Angrathetic = angry and apathetic, Hopcared = hopeful and scared, Smears = smiling and tears).

My friend Lori reminded me that we live in a society that sees life as black and white, when really it is all grey. We live in a society where it is expected that we are either good or bad, happy or sad, still "depressed" or "over it." Lori reminded me that it isn't about that at all. It is the duality of everything in our lives. The good and the bad, the ability to begin to feel whole again, but never get "over it." The fact that I enjoyed my day of work, but am glad to be on a leave. The fact that I love rehabilitation and everything OT stands for, but not right now. It is both/and…

It's not that I have my true feelings competing with feelings of distraction and denial, it is that I have both. It's not that I have to love or hate work, I can do both. My leave from work is going to be good and bad. I am going to feel like I am addressing one area of my self-identity, while losing another. I miss Cam terribly and have had fun without him. I have lost aspects of my self-identity and have gained some as well.

Sigh, here I am trying to make it all sound black and white. 1 or 5 or 10 examples aren't going to make it any clearer than it already is (or isn't). I suppose it is one of those things that is simply understood, yet, and at the same time, not understood at all!

PRESS RELEASE- NightTime Sandy Makes Rare Appearance

Blog News has just received word that NightTime Sandy was spotted roaming the streets of Calgary last weekend. Witnesses say she was spotted piggy backing her friends home from the bar, just off 17th avenue late Saturday night.

Allegedly, NightTime Sandy and a known close accomplice were invited to a party being hosted by mutual friends known only as R and C. Apparently this party took place in a private room of a restaurant where the pastas were laced with copious amounts of red wine. Our investigators have questioned the bar staff and understand that NightTime Sandy was seen socializing, drinking, and even dancing…sort of. The waiter overheard NightTime Sandy confide in her accomplice, "I have to pee, but I am afraid to go to the bathroom, for fear I won't be able to walk!"

Long after every other bar in the city had closed, a group was seen leaving the above mentioned bar. Witnesses say they knew NightTime Sandy was in the pack, because one of the females was piggy backing some of the men. This "party trick" is known to be in NightTime Sandy's repertoire of drinking super powers.

Blog News located a friend of the accused at her workplace, who had this to say regarding the assumption that it was actually NightTime Sandy piggy backing the men: "Oh, the piggy back," sighs her friend, "after drinking, NTS becomes very, very, strong, and can do many things in heels, including piggy backing men, climbing fences, and walking across the top of High Level Bridge. She really has no fear, and actually does think she is Wonder Woman."

Besides piggy backing, sources close to NightTime Sandy say she can consume generous amounts of food after an evening of carousing. With this tip, detectives on the case have determined the group likely then made a pit stop at "Tubby Dog." When the late night staff were questioned they confirmed that two attractive females were spotted ordering an usually large quantity of food including two "A-Bombs" (a gigantic hot dog topped with cheese sauce, bacon, ketchup and potato chips...Mmmm).

Witnesses say the group was quite gitty and silly, and laughed the whole way home. How curious.

NightTime Sandy had no comment about the evening when questioned on the apparent hilarity of the walk home. She then mumbled something about "looking natural," "sitting on air," "secret handshakes," and "being out of your #*)%* mind."

Considering it is Tuesday, and NightTime Sandy is still giggling and smirking, the public strongly believe that something funny did indeed take place. Our crew at Blog News will remain on the case until further information is gleaned from this rare, rare, occurrence.

The Awesome Power of "Telling the Story"

(click on the title for more information on this topic)

The comfort of strangers.

It's not what you think. It was really quite beautiful. It lasted one night. A couple of hours at the most.

No, I'm not dating, and didn't have a one-night stand. Just a wonderful sharing between two semi-strangers. This is how it went:

Amy and I went to the bar in Canmore on Saturday night for some good old-fashioned girl's night action. We ended up running into some of Amy's friends from her past life. One guy in particular stood out. I immediately like him.

I attempted conversation. "I'm an Occupational Therapist," and "I work at a hospital in Edmonton," seemed to be the only descriptions of myself that fit these days. All the while I'm thinking, "please don't ask me anymore questions."

We drank, we talked, and as the night when on, the inevitable happened. We started discussing relationships. At this point I took great interest in my nails and further examination of all the wrinkled spots on the back of my hand, wishing that I actually knew how to disappear. Then the dreaded questions:

"Sandy, do you have a boyfriend?"
"Nope, single" (what is that? A hangnail?)
"Really a girl as sweet and cute as you, single?"
"Yep," and in an attempt to change the subject, "You? Girlfriend?"
"Yes, but it is an awkward situation; Anyway, why are you single? At 28?"
Blood pressure rising. "It's an awkward situation,"
"What is it?"
(ohmigod) "Trust me, you don't want to know."
He pressed on. "No, I do, what is it?"
Deep breath: Inhale…thinking…exhale.
Curling my toes as hard as I can within my shoes and….
"It's awkward because my boyfriend died in June."

There. I said it. To a complete stranger no less.

I immediately felt like I jumped into a black hole. Pause.

Turns out, this guy is one of the most compassionate men in the black hole of awkward social interactions.

He wanted to know what happened. He asked. I told him. I even used Cam's name. He acknowledged, with great emotion, "your heart has been ripped out a broken." I cried. I told him, "I never thought I could love someone as much as I loved Cam," and that "I was going to marry Cam." He cried. He said "you loved him and he died." I nodded. "You wanted to spend the rest of your life with him and he died." I nodded.

He hugged me, a lot. It was wonderful. He wanted to know how I have been coping. I told him about my family, friends, counseling, acupuncture, journaling, and reading. I told him about my meditation retreat. I told him that what works for me is to be reclusive. I told him I like to spend time alone because having to interact with people reminds me how "their normalcy is hideous to me." (A quote, which I stole from a book, I read).

I confided in him that I felt silly because I had been looking for Cam all night long, at the same time fully understanding that he died, yet, searching anyway. I told him that "everywhere I look, what I see is NOT Cam, and I am start to wonder how on earth I will ever meet someone again." He reminded me that my "heart has been broken," and hugged me again. I told him "it's hard to live life as a 28year old in a society where so much emphasis is placed on being in a relationship." He hugged me again and said, "the last thing you need now is a relationship."

He told me his dad died two years ago. He was extremely close with his dad. I asked him, "what is your dad's name?" I sensed his shock, surprise and whole-hearted appreciation of my supporting that just because his dad died doesn't mean we can't talk about his personal details. Details that affirmed his life.

I told him it was so nice to be sharing my story with someone. It is nice to be telling the truth about my life, instead of answering every question so delicately, carefully, and falsely. It was nice to just get it out. The best part about the night is that that is all it was. There was no need to exchange numbers, write an email, or go for coffee. It was purely an "emotionally supportive one night stand." I spoke, I cried, I let someone hug me, and it was OK. I didn't lose control, I didn't scream, punch, or kick. I actually thoroughly enjoyed it.

Nearing the end of our conversation,he said,"I had no idea you were so C…."
"-Crazy?" I offered.
"No, Complex."