Tag Archives: happiness

Day 25: Fun!

FUN!
FUN!

I was going to write about Why I am Here, Part II, but again, life gets in the way! And that, my dear, is the point. Life is good. It doesn’t need to be categorized, analyzed or parlayed into anything else. It is right in front of you.

And right now, in front of me, we have  a father and daughter frolicking in a pool, a dog laying down after a good ‘ole day of playing with his doggie friends and going for an evening walk; and me, here typing to you, whatever the hell is going on in my head. But my hope is that I am able to convey not just “what is happening” but why it is important, amazing and good. Why my life is so amazing, because it is.

Am I just lucky, or have I come out of the dark and seen with new eyes?

Something to ask yourself too. Is your life not good, or are you not seeing what is good about you, about it. That is what happened to me. I was comparing my life to some superstar dream fantasy far away, and I could never live or be happy that way. Now, as I sit here, the music playing (“Here Comes the Sun” by the Beatles), I dream a new dream: the dream of my life as it is now. Better than planned, appreciated beyond measure, and endlessly full of possibilities for tomorrow. No need to prolong.  Just say:

Yes, this day is enough for me! This is fun!

I am having fun. With you, with me, with everyone.

My husband, not knowing what I was writing about, just hollered from the pool:

“Hey, mommy, this is fun!”

Not kidding. There are no accidents, only appointments, she said.

This one is fun indeed.

Thank you.

Amen.

Day 18: Intimidated

Today I feel intimidated. I am afraid to write this post!  I am embarrassed that someone will read it, which they probably will! So I told my son who is a musician and can understand this kind of fear, and he said:

“Write like no one will read it. You can always worry about it later.”

Brilliant! Why didn’t I think of that?

Last night I was wildly embarrassed about my post and deleted it on Facebook (you can read it here if you want - I am committed and it remains Day 17).  I suddenly felt more aware that people are watching, reading my work. I was becoming afraid of my audience! This is not good!

What do I do about that? I have learned soooooo  many ways to deal with that feeling of Intimidation. There is no one (at least not openly) judging me, certainly not as harshly as I judge myself. And a lot of folks have been quite nice. I just didn’t want to have to go through it, this feeling. AGAIN! Why can’t I get this right? After all, I am well-trained, highly evolved! I should know better, Damnit!

But, here I am. Embarrassed. Intimidated.

But wait – why is my life so amazing? Isn’t that what this blog is for?  Yes, it is. I have no excuses. My crybaby worries won’t work anymore. I’m not getting out of this.

Nor could I get out of my audition today: the things I had to do to prepare; the nice man I was supposed to audition with but had to go in with someone else instead; the courage I felt in doing my best despite awkward glances; the compassion I showed myself by saying ”thank you very much”, and patting myself on the back, even if I hadn’t really “nailed” it.  Despite all of that, and the dusty hot streets I encountered as I walked to the car…  I felt good.

I wasn’t afraid anymore. Not because my source of discomfort was gone, but because it didn’t really matter anymore. I was there for a time: I connected, I shared, I laughed, I sighed. And now it was time to move on.

I am still here and my whole life as well.

At least I am not intimidated by her anymore, that little girl inside myself. I have come to love her qualities, the different temperatures and landscapes of her inner world; I am beginning to see them as passing mist, nothing to get too worked up about. And sometimes, to even cherish awhile.

When I got home, there was a pool to put up, kids to feed, a dog freshly groomed and running about. Happiness filled the moist, grassy air…

It was heaven on earth.

Oh, what was I so worried about?

P.S. I can’t say I followed my son’s advice to the rule, or that I “nailed” my post either, but at least I did it.  And so, I  continue another day. Amen.

Day 9: The Pleasant Ever-After

I’m not sure why, but I’m so happy lately. A year ago I was suffering from a recurring case of depression, or what one expert called “a constant state of discontent”. It had taken its toll on my health and every area of my life. I didn’t know what I wanted to do and it felt like the end of the world.

Now, as I sit here in my backyard, looking at the chickadees and robins hanging out in the trees, feeling the cool damp breeze and my fingers tracing their story on the keys, I feel at ease… I feel a deep sense of peace unknown to me before…

Where did this come from? This pleasant ever-after? The long-awaited prize after years of grueling internal effort and uncertainty? It came from a combination of things, all brought on by my intention – no, my Determination – to be well, to be More than well: to BE HAPPY.

I deserve a life of happiness. So do you. There is no need to struggle and worry about everything. I’ve done plenty of that. I’ve been through lots of things – death, loss, but I haven’t suffered much. I have everything, I admit.  But that discontent underlying our lives can eat away at the most blessed of lives, including my own. I admit, I was spoiled. I didn’t know how lucky I am.  I am more than lucky – I worked for this, chose this, in fact. But when you don’t recognize what you have, you are impoverished indeed.

Sometimes it takes a crisis to get down on your knees.

Since then I have done many things:  Prayed and meditated, number one. Got the help I need.  Took some courses that elevated my spirits and connected me to a broader social community. Healed body, mind and soul. Did the work. Wrote it out. Talked it out. Cried it out! I found my voice. And now I am freed. I feel better today than I have felt in, well – ever!

happiness

This is the story of my life, unfolding one day at a time. May it be blessed, always with the recognition of what I have, and the good that is to come. This is my happily ever after. It’s not perfect. It’s not what I planned when I first started out (whose is?). I don’t live in Hollywood (thank God!), and in some ways, it is much, much better. Because you know what? I’ve only just begun!  And that makes me really smile…

I wish the same for you.

Day 8: Keeper of the Flame

I am back from Kingston, home of my birth, and feeling quite reflective on what I found there…  Not only did I find my grandmother in a new hospital by the lake, doing relatively well (see Let Sleeping Lions Lie);  I found myself with my mother, and countless photos and letters dug up among boxes and boxes of stuff in my grandmother’s sun-porch…

Nanna's sunporch

In these boxes, we found my great-great grandparents Lawrence E. Moore and Emma Belle Deacon staring out from their front porch rockers in Haileybury…

Lawrence and Emma Moore on the front porch in Haileybury 1920s

and their seven daughters (my great aunts), girls and women in tranquil Georgian-style dresses lounging on the front swing with flowers in their hair, or leaning with snowshoes and warm-mittened hands against the family’s seemingly chicken-wired fence;  my gr-great grandmother Emma standing solidly with her youngest one wrapped around her skirt, she looking quite tired but still strong in the heat of days… and another where she smiles brightly to camera, which delighted me beyond measure.

Moore Women in Cobalt

These are the Moores I had always wanted to know, to play cards with at the dining room table (which is now in my mother’s dining room); to tell stories with, laugh with…   I see Emma playing the  mouth organ (which is now in my grandmother’s hall closet); I hear their old Irish twang and crazy war-time songs (I shall never repeat them here - we were Protestant Northern Irish, if that says enough).

Moore women at dining table

Emma Moore playing the mouth organ

I feel like I know these women. I am bonded to them.  I am proud to be one of them. I see myself in their tall languid frames, the way they held their hands, tilted their heads, played up to camera. The Moore Women.

I am a part of a long, and timeless heritage of strength and self-assurance. Of continuity. Of beauty. And of rebuilding. Death after death has taken them. But their faces tell me another story; they are still here, in my blood and in those whom I love now.

My grandmother had protected and shielded these treasures for years and years. She didn’t have the heart to go through them, or dispose of anything. I’m glad she didn’t. I’m glad I had the opportunity with my mother to get on my hands and knees and know this family I inherited.

The details won’t matter so much. The garbage bins will go out; the trinkets will disappear. But their eyes, their hands, their laughter and their tears will never go out in me.

I am blessed to be here, the Keeper of the Flame.

Me in my red boots in Nanna's backyard

P.S. I will be posting more family finds in my other blog, That’s Relative!..    Thank you for visiting.

Day 6: New

There are some things I am still afraid of. Some people think being an actress makes me immune – instant courage. Not so. I admit I have a larger heaping teaspoonful of it, but sometimes I am not who I say I am. I’m…  shy.

When I was born my mother said I was a big crier – not for no reason – for the most part I was a very happy baby, and I have the ‘toothless grin’ photos to prove it.  (Hmm.. I’ll have to dig them up.)  I loved to eat anything my mother put in front of me, and once my mom and Aunt Jane took turns shoving teaspoonfuls of jam into my mouth (yum!), between which I would cry bloody murder if they were just a little too slow. I was, and still am, voraciously in love with life. This is fairly new. Although I started out that way, life got in the way. Moving. Loss. Failure, disappointment.  It’s called the 20s. My 30s were all about change. Huge transformative never-looking-back change. Phenomenal. And now that I’ve just entered my 40s, I’m on a new path – again.  Instead of the baby crying out for another huge heaping teaspoonful, I sometimes hold back. I wait. I wonder. I question. I ponder.

Where does this hesitance for life come from? Fear. Lack of experience – and too much experience.

This past week we were introduced to our new neighbours. For the past 12 years we’ve been hanging with our ‘old neighbours’, who had really become family. I was sad to see them go (even though they’re only 12 minutes away).  I also knew that change was good – for them and for us. They needed to grow as much as we did.  We still visit them in their new digs, and they are just like newlyweds fighting over paint chips (after 45 years of marriage).

For us, we are like new as well. Our ‘new neighbours’ are younger and have a baby. That old house where our old neighbours used to sing and burn sticks outside and host boxing day parties is slowly changing into a new time, a new shape.  Funny how perspective changes everything.

My shyness came in introducing myself, wanting to hang back and “give them some space”. I did that for about 3 weeks – well, almost 2 months.  Once we emerged from our dwelling places into the sun of our first summer day we noticed each other out back, waved hands, joked about the leaves and the pile-ups, everything home-owners lack.  The husband popped his head over the fence finally and asked, “Is it too early to ask Steve to have a beer?”  I laughed and said, “No, he’s about ready” as my husband came climbing down a ladder with eaves-trough goo in his hands.

men on a break

That night the young couple came over with their baby and his mother. We sat on our deck and had a few. Talked and talked, laughed and shared stories. It was grand. I felt so lucky to be there with these new people, welcoming them in, and them too. I felt just as new as they did. It opened up a new era in our lives, a new possibility for sharing, for being a couple who can go out for dinner and leave the kids behind (we’re lucky, ours are 8 and 14).  And of course, for our kids, babysitting. New days open up, sparkle and give new life, new energy, changes, comings and goings.

And – Ooh – Food!  Lots and lots of food. My inner child was very, very happy. We feasted that night, broke bread together, shared the wine and the beer, and sat over an open fire.

This is a life worth talking about. Worth sharing. Always and forever, New.

P.S. I have such great pictures to share – I’ll hunt them down and insert them later. Love.

Day 5: One Woman’s Weed…

dandelions

One woman's battle...

Springtime Canada. We have been encrusted by snow and trampled by rain for two long seasons, and now Summer is upon us. Out of our weary and dark dwelling places we roam, emerging from our comfortable habits of yesterday, cherished shows that got us through (American Idol anyone?), a shot too many or glass (or two) of wine, our warm beds to return to.  Suddenly, as the back doors slide open and the lids open in the shed, the brushes get a wiping, the tools get a shake, the cobwebs of  yesteryear flicked away….  What have we got now?

 Weeds, my friend. Weeds, weeds, and more weeds!

Yesterday I was on a walk with my daughter, and she is at that delicate age where her reason has suddenly shouted, “But that’s just a weed!”  What was once a precious dandelion flower given to her mother with great care and the sweetest of sweet smiles, is now a pesky weed, reduced to the order of no more, and not for me.  I corrected her immediately.

“Sweetheart, I love when you give me dandelions. They’re so beautiful. And I never, ever want you to say again that they are just weeds, do you hear me?!  Because I cherish every dandelion you ever give me. I always want you to give me dandelions. Never, never stop. OK?”   She looked at me like I was crazy and then she agreed.  She plucked one, then two and three up from the ground, bunched them in her usual array.  She placed them in the same container as the lovely tulips she picked that morning.

They are perfect, don’t you agree?

tulips and dandelions

P.S. As for the weeds, I am slowly digging my way out of hell.  I have almost recovered my Japanese garden walkway which was so perfectly manicured when I moved in. NOT!  The dandelions have made quite a home there. Don’t tell my daughter most of them ended up in the compost pile! Sorry little weeds! I tried! (bleeding heart that I am).

P.P.S.  Solution?  Put the kid to work!… 

no fair!

Special Edition: Halley’s Comet Anniversary and Me

Tonight I had an epiphany. Kind of like the night sky and then Whooosh! – a burst of life – the brightest possibility. I was sitting here writing at my dining room table – again. (Yes I do like this, don’t I?) and my husband came in and stood there a minute and said, “This is amazing. Listen….”  I heard my son playing Beethoven’s 5th on the guitar, tweaking for a song we needed for a film we made – his first commission. In the office was our daughter of 8 drawing a picture, also commissioned by her father, for which she was completely engrossed. And I at my table, with the laptop lighting my face, fingers tapping diligently, gleefully, was caught in mid-air.

“We have an amazing family, don’t we?” I said.  “Yes.”

What prompted me to write tonight?  He also told me that tonight is the night on May 14, 1910 that the earth passed through the tail of Halley’s Comet, which only comes around once every 74-75 years.  It came in the 1980s when I didn’t know or care about such things. And it will come again in 2061 when I am hopefully still alive to see it for myself.

‘Haley’ is also the main character in a script I am working on.  And the full  meaning of it is only coming clear as I revisit it tonight, along with this glorious comet. Again and again.

So, this is what I wrote about this project, my epiphany, after he kissed me and went away.  Unplugged.

Like Haley’s Comet, I revisit this theme, occasionally, but it glows bright when I do and then it seems to go out. I’m not sure what gave me the idea for Haley’s Comet, but I know it started with a rock I found in the Mojave desert, and a dream I had about its recovery and that it was special, a piece of Halley’s Comet. I thought I had lost it – but it was returned to me, at a full banquet with family and friends. I was very lucky indeed.  So I guess I know!  Why do we always pretend not to? Why does everything have to be a mystery?

‘They say’ it’s time for a romantic comedy.  ‘They say’ it’s time for Haley’s comet to come again. ‘They say’ that the world will end when it does – it never did.  They say a lot of things. But what say you, my Friend?  Haley. The one who called to me. I was calling myself to me.

Haley is a girl. She is myself. She is a dreamer. She is a well-wisher. She loves her friends, people too. She is shy, beloved, careful and predictable to most, special to a few, diverse, scary sometimes. Bursting forth and out of the blue.  She is miraculous, she adventures, she promises, she stares up at the night sky. She is full of rage and promise and she does not forget anything. She is a star.

Then why is she not up there? Why is she not doing anything that takes notice of who she is? Why do people not see her for what she really is?  Because she doesn’t know it yet. It’s hard to see yourself if you’re trailing for 24 million miles.

What would I like to do with this project, this rock, myself? I would like to tell the truth, only on fire, with passion, with desire, with love, with energy, with excitement, with sorrow and pain, with conviction, with death and dying, with coming back again. I’d like to see anew and have time be well spent. Cathartic, true, lovely, dreamlike, fun, amazing, silly, just the right thing to do.

It is my deepest wish, but ‘grown up’.  To really live. To be a part of – a partner – not separate. To find my true calling, and my partner all in one. The support, the love, the fun. To inspire.

We are free here. I am living the life I dreamed. I have my children, my partner, the creativity as much as I would have it at the time, and now the dream of being a writer fulfilled, right now, in this very moment. I am completely and utterly free. Who can say that? How many people do you know feel that? Know what that is like?  Who can face their grief, their pain and find ecstasy again? Find satisfaction? Happiness, even?  I have found everything. There is no more waiting. I have become the thing I was waiting for. Literally. Profoundly. It is fun to create. It fun to be here. Now.

I Have a Plan

Why are so many women still unhappy?

Are we really so ungrateful for what we have and who we are, or is there some bigger fish to fry?

I feel this state of discontent that is completely un-understandable to most men I know. And when I talk about this state of relentless need or desire for change, most women get it.  How come?  And what do we do about it?

I’ve done the Feminine Power course with some dynamite women, and it seemed like I was looking in the mirror most of the time – most women, even highly accomplished women, feel this dissatisfaction with their current lives, no matter how fulfilling they appear to be.  Some were unhappy for understandable reasons – let’s say they had not yet reached for something they really wanted to do, or they hadn’t found a partner to love and lived their lives alone.  That can be difficult.  But I have already done some things I’m proud of, not all, but some, and I do have a creative partner who wants me to succeed and be happy. So what’s my excuse?  I even have the children I love and always wanted. I have a supportive family mostly and some very good friends. I am not alone.

And yet, most days I awake feeling… what am I doing? What’s next? Where do I come from and where am I going? All these fundamental, proverbial questions that won’t let me be for a moment.  Never satisfied with what I’ve done. There always has to be more. Or different. Or better. It’s never good enough. I’m never good enough. I go back to old habits that keep me comforted while I fritter away the day trying to decide what to do next or what matters to me most.

No. This is not the way. I know this.

My faith lacks faith. And a plan.

I keep relying on wisdom that is unapplied. Meaning I know what to do but don’t do it.  I just know when it’s good. When it seems to be working (ie., I feel happier).

But how do you keep it going? How do you keep moving in this new direction without losing your way and despairing all the time? Especially, especially, when you don’t know where you’re going. You only know it’s sort of like this, it kind of feels like that, it seems to come this way or that.  But there is no ‘connect the dots’. No absolutes. It could all fall apart any minute.

Is this the road to happiness or the road paved with good intentions?

What miracle do I need now to fix my stare on the good, the true and the holy? What miraculous voice within me will steer me and cheer me on without delay? And will NOT go away?

It seems people can be argued with, but our internal self or Voice cannot. It simply quiets, presumably waits for us to stop clambering and climbing the walls.

“Hellooo…. Over here, this way!” Poor soldiers that we are, so determined to make things hard, so entrenched in our old patterns and beliefs.

Shift us, barricade us, blow us out of the water!  Dry us off.  Fasten us to your side waistcoat and never let us go. Guide us, deliver us, champion us. We all want a champion we can believe. Don’t we?

Sometimes it seems I am a child waiting for someone to tell me what to do. To give me an out, a game-plan, a goal, a guarantee.  A rock that will not shift beneath my feet.

Is this possible? Wise? Profitable?

I sure as hell hope so. Cause it’s all I need. Call it a cop-out if you will, but if we knew what to do all this time, wouldn’t we have done it by now? And if we tried to do it and failed and then tried to make it again on our own and failed, maybe there is a better way. Maybe we are not as wise as we had hoped.

Women are strong.  But often our strength lies in recognizing when we need a break, and when we need a hand.  We are used to lending one, but it is harder for us to take one, grasp one hard and fast, and never let go. It is a hard lesson to grasp. But maybe, maybe, it isn’t so bad.

Maybe we haven’t failed, we just failed to understand what we need most of all. Faith not just in ourselves, but in our belief.  That’s what We are here for. To understand for each other when times are tough, to lift each other up. To fasten our hands to those we trust and ask what good can come for all of us.  Nothing makes us happy alone. We haven’t even really tried.  We know it’s useless. But this, this is something new. What can we do with God or the Universe on our side, with Heaven at our feet, with wisdom in our hearts, and people joining hands in the streets?  This all sounds corny but it isn’t. It’s downright true.  It’s what I know, it’s what I believe. It may be embarrassing, it may make me feel like a crazy person sometimes, but there is no other way. Either I have my pride, or I have You.

Call it what you will.

I pick You.

Healing Women

Last week I was in rough shape. I had been struggling for awhile, doing everything “right”:  Taking my vitamins, going to the gym, maniacally trying to control everything. But I couldn’t control myself. I just wasn’t feeling right. And I had twisted my neck getting out of bed. I was down on my knees (though I couldn’t even pull that one off). I knew I needed a miracle.

What do we do when we’ve already done everything?  We pray. And what if that doesn’t work?

We call the doctor.

The day was sunny and the drive quite pleasant. Maybe it was coincidence, or maybe it was hope smiling on me again. I waited patiently as I listened to her laugh inside the room where she was seeing another patient. I flipped through the  magazines and felt the nervousness in my tummy. Also, excitement.  I knew that this was just one step in a long chain of new events. And I had taken the first one.

Hopeful songs were swirling round my head as I waited, until I saw her come out of her office to greet me. She smiled and hugged me.  Now I remembered why I had come.

We said a lot of things in that room, but the most important thing she said is this:

“Remember, asking for help is not being a failure. You have taken a proactive step.”

Then she commended me for my vigilance in trying to do it all on my own. She reminded me that no one can. She told me about how she almost died the previous year from flesh eating disease but thankfully was saved; and how her husband had a massive coronary. She is now committed to a better quality of life and semi-retirement.

My visit reminded me that doctors are human. And, the best of doctors know this. Extending love and care is just as healing as the balms and potions they may serve.  All potions are temporary; Love is the only miracle cure.