DREAM A LITTLE DREAM
Let it be known that I have never been one to dream small. When I dream, it is big, as big as it can possibly become in the amount of time allotted. Usually this is not a conscious thing. In the beginning it is just a glimmer, a spark of inspiration that draws me toward it like a magnetic force, fills my belly with excitement and then I feel compelled to just dive in after it. The creative dream works through my willing hands.
When my husband and I were expecting our first child, I found a book on stencilling and absorbed it with enthusiasm from front to back. In an example of a baby’s room, though I thought the ribbons and two little birds holding the ends up were charming and looked lovely over the crib, rather than doing just the same, this served the beginning of a design for our own baby’s room, but with the addition of a castle and rainbow, hot air balloon, the sun, moon & stars, positioned within and above billowing clouds that covered all four walls to create a dreamy setting.
Below the clouds on the ‘ground’ all around the bottom edge of the room I painted multi-colored flowers with a unicorn nestled between each garden bush. In addition I stencilled upon the window blind a silhouette of Tinker-Bell blowing out a candle.
All served to stir the imagination of our child before she went to sleep and greeted her when she woke up. Even to this day, unicorns remain one of her favorite imaginary creatures. I still like to inspire her imagination by saying that perhaps unicorns or Pegasus is not imaginary, maybe in another dimension or universe there truly are these creatures and our imagining them in the first place is simply a seventh or eleventh sense within us tuning into their reality.
When we moved to where we are now, our next two children were greeted within their room with another dream emerging out of the clouds also carrying the sun, moon and stars, but this time there were teddy bears coming alive—in a bubble bath with bubbles floating into the air, bears sliding down a rainbow and then one going up again by holding onto a balloon that floated upwards. Another was in a boat riding the high seas to spot a whale with a fountain of water coming out of his spout while he swam above a school of fish down below. Now the two ends of the rainbow were held by two Teddy Bears who parted the clouds with it to allow a crimson setting sun to be seen with colorful dotted lettering sending our children off to sleep with the words, “Sweet Dreams”.
Our eldest daughter reluctantly left her first room when we moved with the vision that we would create an even better one. It is somewhat sad that it was never completed; (which she still laments especially when her sister wants to now paint over the mural in a style that is more conducive to a teenager’s disposition). It was never completed because, I believe, I did not listen to my intuition (more on that later). What began as a plan of a carousel of horses which proved to be too busy, turned instead into a colorful round of real horses walking, trotting, and then galloping. Where the last horse, Pegasus, was to be launching into flight with wings widely extended, it ended instead with a blank wall.
At the time we were in reality carried away with preparation for the Manitoba “Flood of the Century”. This washed away the incentive and energy required to finish as it took at least five years to recover from this event. So the horses continue to make their rounds on three walls in a colorful flower-filled garden overflowing with Monarch butterflies. (My middle child who was around two years old at the time was irresistible when she was assisting me in deciding where to put them, so when she said “here!” with her cute little finger pressed to the wall, I painted in another butterfly for her. I think there are over 30 Monarchs in total.)
Other themes that I have created and painted over the years are of Balloo from the Jungle Book Story, a ship from Peter Pan, and a Precious Moments boy and girl on a flower covered swing, again with the parting clouds, and little birds holding the ribbon ends.
Much of my dreaming and creative endeavors besides bringing joy to our children, or others had to do with trying to serve husband and family by bringing in an income with my creative talents. This would also enable me to stay at home with our children, although in the beginning there was not a press for this as we were managing to live within our means easily with enough left over for holidays and entertainment.
There was still time to dream and live in between endeavors. Because of this there are children’s stories that I have written and occasionally performed rather like Mr. Dress-up. A few were transferred to recordings; others are waiting for illustrations to be completed by my daughter or my self. Because of the support of my husband, the creativity has been allowed to flow. Thus when our children’s birthdays were coming up within a month or two on the calendar, it was with joy and energy that I began the planning and preparation
The first themed party that I did for our eldest daughter was when she was two year’s old. She loved the movie “Fern Gully” at the time and so I decided it would be fun to have a rainforest theme. Now it’s been quite some time so I am not sure if all of the details will come to mind, but first and foremost I remember creating lion-headed paper masks covered with yarn for the mane that the children put on while they hunted for crafted mice hidden around the house. These were created sewn from felt and finished with yarn tails that were exposed from beneath couches and such so that the children could spot them and pull them out by the tail. They could tuck them as a prize into their goody bags. Because it was a rainforest, I drew, colored and cutout lizards which were then taped to the wall and somewhat hidden behind plants, lamps and such. Before they were secured entirely in place, I hid rainforest themed stickers in behind them for the children to find. On a large (3x4 foot) outdated discarded plastic point-of-sale poster from my husband’s work, I created a pond scene by painting on the back a number of lily pads in a path floating in bright blue water. A game was created by sewing bean bag style frogs that the children had to hand hop across the numbered lilies according to the throw of a dice. It was great fun. They also got to go fishing with a rod made out of a coat hanger to which I attached a magnet as a hook to attract the dime (I think) sewn inside of colorful fish shaped material. I hung brilliant material of a rainforest on the wall that was actually a lucky find as it matched so well to some toy tropical bird whistles that I purchased from the Toad Hall toy store.
It made for an easy game where the children had to find their mate camouflaged within the forest. I made bird masks out of paper to match the whistles that the children wore while they looked for their mate.
Now if you think I was going a bit too far in the creation of this birthday party, then you will be convinced of this once you learn of the icing on the cake. Before we get there, I will mention that for decorations on the window, I had velcroed together balloons and added pipe cleaners for antennas to make caterpillars. Back-lit by the light coming through the window, they looked brilliant and fun! The children got to take these caterpillars home also. Back to the finale … it just so happened that my husband had access to a tank for helium through his work, and so we blew up many green balloons that floated to the ceiling covering it almost completely. To this jungle ceiling of balloons, I added long green streamers that I twisted and hung and tangled to one another. To these vines, I added little toy rainforest colored frogs that the children again had to hunt for and add to their party bags. This was so much fun to create that I could not help but continue this kind of preparation for our children’s birthdays for many years to come.
I could go on with sharing other themed parties that I did, but rather I will say that this practice of creating to entertain children extended to creating an environmental interactive story about a princess, a prince and a chorus of frogs, that I offered to schools.
Thus began the beginning of an environmental story that could be shared with children. The first butterfly created grew into my making fourteen more. Then I created an approximately 24 inch girl puppet cut out of foam, painted and dressed, complete with earrings and painted nails and hair of heavy yarn.
Next came hand-made sound makers, like a rainmaker made from a discarded cardboard tube lined with nails so that it made the sound of pouring rain as rice passed over the nails, 80 lids were glued together so that when they were squeezed they sounded like frogs croaking. A few bought items like bolts made the sound of crickets when rubbed together. Costumes were sewn for the two princes in the story, and 20 handmade princess hats were created for the girls and 20 frog masks for the boys. Many other props found or created served to instill the story into the minds of the children, including an interchangeable backdrop
to set the scene. All this was served by my self dressed as mother nature in a elaborate handcrafted dress that I created to look as though I was draped in a forest. Upon my head I wore a wreath made of real dried flowers and unfortunate butterflies and bees I found as victims from fast moving vehicles on our highways.
I would like to share more on this occurrence before I continue with the environmental story. Ever since I was a child it is with sadness but at the same time fascination that I have found dead butterflies. Now as an adult living beside a highway, it is also with alarm that I view how many of these delicate creatures can be destroyed in a matter of days especially when there is a sunflower field growing adjacent to the highway.
My children and I discovered this while taking an alternate bicycle route to ease the monotony of going around the same town time and again to stretch our legs and get some fresh air. Once the dismay of this discovery had eased a little and because of my inclination to not want something to be wasted, it wasn’t long before I was thinking of how I might preserve their beauty.
At least then I thought their death may not seem so pointless, though I did learn at this time that ants fed upon the bodies of the butterflies, but their wings were left to disintegrate within days if one did not gather them. Also, because of the exorbitant amounts that were slaughtered, even the ants could not keep up with the bodies. I ensured that the butterflies were indeed passed away before I gently gathered up some of them to bring home. I kept them for a long period of time; in fact over the winter before using a few within the crown of the mother nature costume. It wasn’t until much later in the season that I finally thought of what to do with them and unfortunately by that time I had discarded the less than perfect ones into my garden.
Since then I have gathered more and created over 200 laminated butterfly wing earrings. They are light, delicate and beautiful. I just wish that I could replace all of the hooks with silver as this is more befitting to their grace and beauty.
Growing out of these activities, I turned to children’s parties, entertainment and planning to see if this could be an option for income. Included in this period was a trial of busking at the Forks downtown as a face-painter in which I dressed in a colorful gypsy-like costume, but with a suit jacket and hat decorated with sparkly pompoms.
It was hard to find the time to travel the hour to the location, which added up to two hours subtracted from the day in which to work and do all that was required. So the times I did make the trip in this regard was minimal and whether the funds received even covered the price of the gasoline is questionable. It was enjoyable and a few calls for birthday party and face painting for events did come out of it, but in the long run, I set this aside. (It has crossed my mind that maybe this is something I could try again.)
But as far as creating full-themed birthday parties for others , I found that the props and additions that I created for this grew too numerous and large to house, and the amount of work that went into them, was not worth the monetary return at the time. (It could run into a month’s worth of work, and only one day’s worth of pay).
The activity also was less enjoyable than giving a party for our own children and their friends as the children within another home setting did not seem to respond as well. My theory is that even though I may be jauntily dressed, that in their minds I was still a stranger in within their home. I have not found this phenomenon when I have entertained at picnics, fairs, or other public settings. It seems that on common ground the children are much more animated and responsive. Perhaps it is simply because they are happy to be on an outing.
For this reason, I have enjoyed volunteering at the Fort Whyte center prior to giving birth to our children. I doubly enjoyed the fact that while engaging in this type of activity, it is not only fun for everyone, but also teaches the children a valuable lesson that is likely to stay with them for the rest of their lives in one of the most educational settings of all—Nature!
This brings me to another endeavor involving children—this one though was not created to generate income, but to engender friendships while engaging in a mutual interest. Inspired by our love of nature and the time I spent volunteering for Fort Whyte, my daughter and I formed a “Frog Foundation”. We met once a week with a few of her friends and learned all we could about frogs and what we could do to ensure their existence in our world. We went for a walk to a marsh close by, and daydreamed of local and global frog-centered activities. Included in one meeting was an art project where everyone created a frog mask that they could bring home. This group didn’t come together for very long as we live out of the town where my daughter and her friends attended school, but I am sure the time spent at least introduced the idea of thinking globally, while acting locally. I believe they had fun anyway.
Thus was the pattern of our lives to this point. Looking back from where we are now, my eldest daughter would agree that we were living in a kind of Utopia though we didn’t realize it at the time.
Yet while living in this happy place, I still felt that I was behind in my work—that this lag began with my taking a wrong direction. I turned Southeast when I was instructed to go Northwest.
Up to this time a belief system was forming that if we followed our heart and dreams, and our intentions were for the good of the whole, that something wonderful could unfold. That God, the universe, nature, serendipity, however you viewed that which is beyond our direct control but is somehow connected to us, moves in ways that can be beneficial for all.
Following is what I wrote at the time to demonstrate how this belief system was growing within myself and also seemed to be reinforcing itself.
THE HIDDEN FINGERS OF THE DIVINE
I have had several dreams over the past 15 years that told me that I was behind in my work. Now it is time that I play catch-up.
There is a saying I find myself often repeating—“The hidden fingers of God” –though now with further reading into faiths and their history, I have revised it to, “The hidden fingers of the Divine.” How this came to be used by me is through things that have happened in my life that seemed incredible. (By the way, the definition of incredible in the Winston dictionary means “hard to believe, unimaginable.” I guess some of the stories that I am about to tell will be incredible to some people, while others, like my self are beginning to take them as a natural phenomenon. All of the stories are true.
ALICE IN WONDERLAND
I was preparing for my youngest daughter’s birthday party. The particular theme for this party was one of my most absolute favourites. “Alice in Wonderland”. In preparation, a blue caterpillar made out of balloons was velcroed together along with pipe-cleaners for antennas and all was then mounted onto the wall above an equally large painted image of a red mushroom with white spots.
A three foot Cheshire cat was drawn and painted in such a way that the parts could be put together like “Pin the Tail on the Donkey” with the idea in mind that this cat likes to appear or disappear little by little. I strung a deck of cards together with fishing line and hung them from the ceiling to fall beside a life-size painted card of the Queen of Hearts and a pink flamingo.
Then, with only about three days left before the party while driving home with my eldest daughter I felt a slight nudge of intuition to go to Toy Traders. I thought “no” I just want to go home. Moreover though, another thought occurred that suggested perhaps I might find a little extra something just right that had my daughter’s name on it (my way of saying it would be perfect for her) and because it was a gently-used toy store, it may also be for a good price. So now I felt a stronger inclination to go and just in time too, as the overpass that would take us directly to Toy Traders was coming immediately overhead. I whipped onto it and in next to no time was browsing through the store.
In less than three minutes of my daughter and I momentarily parting ways within the store, she came back to me excited and said,
“Mom, Look what I found!” 
It was a genuine character stuffed toy of the White Rabbit from Alice In Wonderland, complete with pocket watch! In fact, it was brand new and still bearing a small tag that explained the story. I held my breath a moment as I checked the price tag and then let it go with delight as the toy could be purchased for only three dollars! My heart leaped with joy and needless to say, I bought the White Rabbit.
RESERVED PARKING
I will slip something in here that I have noticed in my life. I seem to be able to always find parking (as long as I am not too cheeky about this), even at the most crowded of affairs—not just any parking either, but one that is just perfect. There is always the hope that I will find this spot and it is very rare that I am disappointed even when I arrive at the last moment. A genuine grateful “thanks” is always sent up. On the other hand, if there is a checkout line when purchasing something that takes extra long to move, or is troubled with a delay… that is the line that I am in. It seems to be a kind of counterbalance for the convenience I find with parking. Most often I accept this gracefully understanding that I do much better waiting in line than I do when looking for parking and also, this wait gives me a moment to browse the magazines which is something I enjoy.
HOT WHEELING BIRTHDAY WISH
There is another birthday story I would like to share—this time it was my son’s that I was concerned about. Because it was shortly before his birthday, I found myself shy of funds as I had already spent most of the budget on the preparations. I had only nine dollars left and one thing set in my mind that I really wanted to purchase for him.
My little brother (no longer little of course) loved his Hot Wheels. I remembered how much I also enjoyed setting up the tracks and playing cars with him, so now I wished to pass this joy on to my own son. The problem was that I knew the price of brand new Hot Wheels tracks, especially with the loop I imagined, was beyond my remaining reserve of nine dollars.
A few days before his birthday, I explored a thrift store at a different end of the city than I normally frequent. I cannot remember why I happened to be in that end of town, but on the off-chance that I might find a little something extra for my son, I searched through all the small bagged toys and on all of the shelves but could not see anything of value for him. I was about to leave when rounding the corner of one of the display stands, I found a large case of Hot Wheels tracks propped up against it on the floor.
Upon opening it, I found an extra bundle of different coloured tracks and even the loop-de-loo I was wishing for. And, the price on the box was nine dollars! A joyful ‘thank you’ went out from my heart.
WORKING THROUGH THE HEARTS OF GOOD PEOPLE AT CHRISTMAS
What follows is how I think the ‘Hidden Fingers of the Divine’ work through the generous hearts of good people. During the Flood of The Century in Manitoba, I found myself short of funds for Christmas, but still wishing to find something special for our children. Not only was I looking for something special, but I was hoping that whatever I could possibly find would match the interest of my children. My son was a baby, so the task would not be difficult—same with my youngest daughter, as she loved dolls. It was my eldest child, who had an interest in horses that I thought would be rather trickier.
Many times during the flood we were generously helped especially by the Red Cross, Mennonite Disaster Service, and the Salvation Army, I cannot thank these organizations and all who give to them enough. They definitely make a difference in the world.
At one of their thrift store locations nearest to us, I found what appeared to me as a miracle that Christmas. On the top of a pile of toys in a box that just arrived lay a toy white horse. So, you might say, there are plenty of toy horses to be found in any thrift shop, but let me continue. This was not an ordinary toy horse. It was a remote control one and was selling for only twenty-five cents. With a quick beat in my heart, I gently gathered it up and bought it—But when I brought it home and my husband put the required batteries in, though he tried to get it to work, it remained motionless. He further examined it, but didn’t think it was fixable because of all the delicate moving parts. There were three joints in each leg to allow it to walk, and also the head had potential to move. I was disappointed and put the horse downstairs in my art room—But then, just before Christmas, I decided I would try to take it apart and see what I may do to fix it. I had nothing to lose.
The first thing I did was unscrew the part that held the batteries. I opened it up and looked inside. I turned it up-side-down and wiggled each leg. I contemplated it. Then realizing that was the extent of my knowledge, I put the batteries back in and screwed it shut again. I then pressed the buttons on the remote control in one hand, while I held the horse in the other. Much to my surprise, the legs on the horse began to move in circular motions as if to walk. I pressed another button on the control panel and the head nodded up and down. Not only this, but while these things took place, pink lights lit up on the horse’s head and mane. It was absolutely charming and my heart filled with joy. There was only one more test… Would it actually be able to walk on the floor without falling over? I brought the horse upstairs to test it on the kitchen floor. I called my husband in to witness. Long story short… It worked beautifully! The movement looked like a real horse walking. I couldn’t wait for my daughter to open it on Christmas. It is still one of her favourite toys. At the time the lesson seemed to be that with a little hope and prayer, followed by going through the motions to exercise the faith that something good might happen.
In this story, a wish and a prayer for a special Christmas toy horse was answered.
I was at my father’s house speaking of this desire to his wife—when she told me that there was a large over-sized stuffed bear in the basement. It was left by a young man trying to “woo” her youngest daughter.
Unfortunately for him, she was not inclined in his favour, but fortunately for me as this bear turned out to be exactly what I had envisioned. It was an impressive four foot white furry polar bear.
All that was needed was for me to make the vest. This was easily within my means and so I gathered all the required material and completed the project. The bear became a favourite toy to rough and tumble, and rest with by our youngest children and their friends who visited.
ANSWERING PRAYERS
There are many times I have felt that hopes, wishes, dreams and prayers have not been answered at all. Yet on reflection and sometimes over a long period of time, I have experienced that they were indeed answered, though not in the way that I had hoped for. It seems there are some things in life we have to go through and not around or be carried over in a real physical sense. I also find that we can be answered through our thoughts and dreams—whether they are dreams in the night or quick impressions of feelings or pictures in our mind during wakefulness. As a matter of fact, the ancients saw no distinction between daydreams (visions) and night dreams. Many would call this intuition, inner vision, insight, imagination. Of course one must always sift through this to discern whether it is useful and good for the self and the wellness of all, or better left alone, for example that which tries to tell us it is a good idea to eat the whole cake. Not!
One time I really would have liked my prayers answered and not have had to go through something was when irregular cells were found within the most precious part of my body—where life is created. I had been frozen, operated on, and cut twice to rid me of this problem and then finally my doctor was successful after the third try; so when they reappeared, I was frightened and upset. I tried prayer and even laying on of hands from the faithful, but it seemed to come to no avail. During this time one night before going to sleep I asked the heavens if it was really necessary for me to have to go through another operational procedure to correct this problem.
The dream that followed was a story of an older house. It belonged to me and my husband. My husband and his best friend were ripping up the floor boards to see what was underneath. It was rotting and would have to be cleaned out and a new floor put in. I explored the rest of the house. It seemed sound, but dark and needed cheering up. I began by hanging tapestries and was working on cleaning up the lace curtains to allow more light in when I woke up.
The dream showed me that ‘yes’, we would have to get to the bottom of the problem to clear it up. Other than that I was in good shape—just needed to cheer up and allow the sun to shine through. As it happened, I did have a lazer operation done to clear up the problem. I remember joking with my doctor about him playing a video game within my body. I am sure he thought I was an odd character because while he battled on the ground, I kept my spirits up by gazing through a liquid kaleidoscope that gives a most lovely firework-like display of colors.
To this present day I have been free of this problem, and am very grateful for that.
TAKE THIS CUP
Another time I prayed to have something taken out of my hands was when my dear Charlie pup was alive. When Charlie got on in years, I first prayed to God not to take him away. I would miss him too much. These prayers began as I took Charlie for a walk at night and found myself looking up at one of the brightest stars in the sky, it is called Sirius, and I learned this was referred to as the “dog star.”
As time progressed and it was clear that Charlie wasn’t improving in health, but in fact beginning to suffer, then my prayer changed to, “Please take him, because I do not have the heart to do it myself.” I didn’t know when or how to proceed. I didn’t want to take him into the veterinarian because the one place he feared the most was the veterinary hospital. In fact he was a good pup—that is until it came time for his doctor’s appointment to receive his yearly vaccination. His record was marked “He will bite”, and he had such a bad reputation that the veterinarian would come outside of the building to administer the shot there to make it easier for all concerned. You can imagine then why I didn’t want to bring Charlie to a veterinary hospital for the last moments of his life. I kept praying to God to peacefully take him.
Then one day as I lay on my bed in deep sadness, noticing for a moment, against my feelings, the sunlit sparkles in the frost on the window, a vision came to me of snipping flower heads (those ones that are close to death and need to be snipped to allow a healthier growth of the garden). It felt as though God was telling me that my help was needed to keep the garden of life tended.
Another dream with this theme came to me on two more occasions in a night of deep sleep, where I found myself in an old woman’s garden that was full of beautiful flowers just coming up in the spring. The dream seemed to emphasize a passing of winter, death, into an even more abundant garden of life in the future that would require my tending, as I had inherited the garden.
I still didn’t get the message and continued to pray to God to take Charlie. I felt that if I had to do it, it would be horrible. I couldn’t bear to take his life. I then had a dream that I was looking for my crystals. (I have always loved rocks and so explored this idea of a hidden magic in them. My own experience found that they were good for contemplating and focussing your thoughts to come only one at a time, a form of meditation.) In the dream I found my crystal and put it in my pocket. Next I was climbing a winding path up a mountain. (Really just a small hill, but in the flat prairies of Manitoba, I began in my childhood to call anything that was raised more than thirty good steps higher than ground level, a mountain.) When I reached the top, there stood before me a large twelve foot clear crystal. Beside it was a checker game with two seats and in one was seated my “best friend”. It was her turn to maka move, but she didn’t want to. I sat down to look at the playing pieces. I could see a clear line-up where I could jump over my best friend’s man and take him. She insisted she didn’t want to move and so I said, “I guess I will have to make the move then. I jumped the piece and took the man off the board. Just then the large crystal cracked and the tip fell off and broke into three pieces… one pink piece, one blue piece, and one white piece, all of baby pastel colors that are found in my favourite winter sky. I picked up one of the pieces and took a bite. It was sweet.
Now you may have intuitively figured out what this dream means, but for those of you who can make no sense of it, I will try and elucidate my understanding for you. I will begin with my “Best Friend”. The dream wasn’t of her in particular, but one should rather think of the saying, “A dog is a man’s best friend.” Climbing up the mountain represented the journey I had to make with Charlie and it would be an upward climb, not easy. In this game of life (represented by checkers in the dream), Charlie did not want to make the move. (I have been told that dogs will often go off by themselves and disappear when they know they are close to death.) So, I had to make the move. I made the jump and took Charlie’s life. I didn’t hesitate when it was apparent that this was what was required. Upon doing it, the crystal broke. Now crystals have also been said to be a carrier of truth. Though I thought if I took Charlie’s life, it would be a bitter experience, the dream showed me that when I bit into the truth, it would actually be sweet. (Keep this in mind as this story progresses.)
The next part of the equation was how I was going to present the facts and the situation to my children and try to ease the thought of the death of Charlie to them. Another dream came to me in the night. I was in an older house that was ours though it looked completely different than the one we are now in. A party was happening. I was around fifty years old, instead of my actual age of 39 at that time. My daughter was taller than me and around 17 years old instead of 8. She was sad. I took her hands and said, “I know what to do when you are sad.” I then pulled her into a polka dance for a moment.
Next I was outside standing above the dormer window of our house with my husband. We were looking up at the stars and talking when I said, “I wonder what it would be like to go up to the stars.” I then swished both of my arms up into the air to fly and much to my delight and surprise found myself whizzing through the heavens to the stars. It was a glorious feeling—but then I sensed that it wasn’t time for me yet, that I would have to go back. A bit reluctantly I went back. When I woke up, I realized that this would be the perfect vision to give my children for Charlie’s passing, that he would be going up to the stars, perhaps even to the dog star, Sirius.
Now that I had the mental framework for dealing with his passing, I needed the physical vehicle as Charlie was getting sick more often than he was well. It was now late fall and it took me a month of contemplation and tearful telephone calls to Centennial Animal Hospital to find out all the options. (I am very grateful for the patience and kindness the employees at this hospital extended to me.) Because of Charlie’s loathing for doctors and hospitals, I thought to have someone come and administer the shot that would end his pain in our home. But when the time was apparent, my eldest daughter was home sick and I knew she couldn’t bear to witness this. An alternative had to be found.Charlie had gotten terribly sick and made a mess of himself, so I had to give him a bath. Once the bath was completed he seemed much better, but I knew this was very temporary and the time had come. My other two children were now home from school and so I explained to them what I had to do and gave them time to say goodbye to Charlie. I was glad that at least he was well enough at the moment to receive pats from them and show his appreciation. I made him a special supper and again, it was good to see he was able to eat it.
Now came the moment I dreaded. I called the veterinary hospital I had been in contact with, but it was closed. I then tried another one that would be closest. The doctor there told me that normally he would be closing, but he would stay open as long as it took for me to be ready. I was grateful that I was given time right to the last minute to be with Charlie.
I phoned my best friend who was the one who brought this little abandoned pup to me in the beginning of his life, knowing then I was the one to care for him. We arranged for a short visit so she and her two dogs (his friends) could say goodbye. Before leaving for her place, something made me go into the bathroom of my home and pull my daughter’s 101 Dalamations bath towel off the rack before leaving. I thought to myself that it was a strange thing to do and even put it back once, but then reached for it again and brought it along.
Charlie was well enough while we visited, but when it was time to go, he was visibly tired. In fact by the time we reached the hospital, he was too weak to walk out on his own. I had to carry him. Now I understood why I had brought the towel. The one thing that absolutely terrified Charlie was being placed on the steel table used for examinations. The towel would serve to cushion this experience.
A strange thing happened as I placed him and the towel on the table. He was heavy in my arms and so this was difficult to do resulting in me fumbling a bit and a small corner of the table remained uncovered by the towel. Onto this bare corner some of Charlie’s saliva streamed out and formed the shape of a question mark. Because I am a visual artist, even in my grief I noticed this and was so astonished that I called my friend over to witness it. Our eyes met in bewildered amazement. I then placed my attention back with Charlie. It was one of the saddest experiences of my life. He was the first one whom I loved in which I had to face his passing. Even so I wouldn’t change that for the world. I had to be with him right to the end. He was instrumental in bringing me out of a previous deep depression in my life because of his joy in simple things like a walk in nature. This helped me to reconnect also with those same things that I enjoyed. He was a companion and good friend for twelve years.
I have to say that the Veterinary Doctor, was very patient. I now like to call him Mr. Nice, because of his generosity (a simple change in one letter of his name). He gave me as much time as I needed. I felt Charlie’s spirit going as it left his body. I cried and spoke to him as he left. I could feel when he was gone. The first thing I saw when I lifted my eyes away from Charlie was a poster on the wall showing the back of a cat and dog sitting side by side looking into what appeared as bright sunshine in my memory.
I felt it was a quite appropriate first image to raise my eyes to upon leaving Charlie behind.
The other thing that seemed rather serendipitous was the next thing I consciously saw when I came out of the room was a fish called a Siamese fighting fish. Why serendipitous? Because when my daughter asked if we could get a cat for a pet in the future, the only thing I could promise was a fish. This fish was a combination of both a cat (in the name) and a fish.
When I held Charlie in my arms again, this time in a ceramic container with the ashes of his remains, a funny thought occurred to me. Charlie had returned to me the same weight as when I first held him as a pup. The circle was complete.
I often go for walks when I am upset and so upon reaching home, a walk would inevitably follow. I remember thinking while walking Charlie the previous week prior to his death that this moment would be terribly bitter for me, especially if I saw the footprints of our walks imprinted in the snow that had fallen during the week. But what truly happened was that while I was gone a light dusting of snow had completely covered the road in sparkles.
It was as if the stars of heaven had come down to earth, and my Charlie had gone up to the heavens.
His actual passing wasn’t as bitter as I had thought it would be. With this final dusting of snow like icing on the cake of life, it was sweet. Now whenever I go for a walk and the heavens have touched the earth this way, I can’t help but think of Charlie, but gratefully without the pain, just the sweet memories. The same happens when I see star shapes dazzling in the sparkling of frost on our bedroom window.
Speaking of snow… every Spring when the snow begins to melt and get sticky, because of my children I have gotten into the habit of making a snow sculpture. When my eldest was about four, we made a five-foot Easter Bunny complete with a basket of eggs, and we painted them too.
When we moved to the country, we repeated this theme, but this time we filled the whole yard with huge colored eggs. Another year a snow dragon was created that practically went the whole length of the yard. (Funny thing tho'... every time I got a little cheeky in my head with this accomplishment, I was humbled with the head falling off. It took a couple of tries to get them both right : )
In the year of Charlie’s death, I didn’t really feel up to creating something, but then I had a talk with myself and said it would be a good idea. However not being in the mood for displaying, I went into the back yard. In memorandum of Charlie, I had previously intended to make a sculpture of him out of clay. Because this project did not transpire, I thought I would now make one out of snow. But where to begin was the question. I decided to just dive right in by making a large pile of snow, slightly larger than Charlie. Then I closed my eyes and pretended that I was petting and patting him like I did when he was alive. I opened my eyes periodically to see how I was progressing and to refine what I saw. As I came to the back end, I wasn’t sure how to proceed, but I kept going, again, most of the time with my eyes shut.
I painted this sculpture which really served to bring it to life. So much so, that sometimes I was momentarily startled when I took out the compost pail and saw the sculpture. At other times I was comforted when I looked out my bedroom window and caught a glimpse of the pup I thought I would never see out through this window again.
If you haven’t gathered already, I had a difficult time letting go of Charlie. As part of the therapy I used to help move my feelings, I would make up little rhymes about him as I jogged at night. I was inspired by my mother-in-law who started the particular rhythm of the poems and the first two lines I incorporated, as she originally created a little song about her own poodle pup. Her tradition was carried on to my own pup. The poems all contained true stories about him.
I had a dog and his name was Charlie,
He liked to play with balloons,
He’d pick them up by the tie ends
and carry them across the room.
I had a dog and his name was Charlie,
He had the fluffliest ever toes,
He’d pull the hair up in between them
Till all he needed were fine silk bows.
I had a dog and his name was Charlie,
He sat like a human, this I know,
He’d put his hind end up on one step,
And his front paws on the step below.
I had a dog and his name was Charlie,
He took great pride in his tail,
And when I washed, brushed and fluffed it,
It looked like a great white sail.
I had a dog and his name was Charlie,
He was the brightest you’ve ever seen,
I’d wave my hands like a conductor,
And he’d sing “god Save the Queen.”
I had a dog and his name was Charlie,
I remember how he made me laugh,
He’s stick his nose over the tub edge,
When I was in there taking a bath.
I had a dog and his name was Charlie,
He liked to play catch the ball,
But it was the pats he was after
And not the fetching game at all.
I had a dog and his name was Charlie,
He liked to savour his ice-cream,
He’d lick it ever oh so slowly,
As if he was in a waking dream.
I had a dog and his name was Charlie,
He had the most expressive eyes,
You could tell what he was feeling,
There was no veil of disguise.
I had a dog and his name was Charlie,
His smile never failed to
make me grin,
He’d tilt his head over to one side,
And his cheek puffed out as his lip tucked in.
I had a dog and his name was Charlie,
He had the softest ever fur,
I liked to lay my face within it,
It gave me such warm comfort.
I had a dog and his name was Charlie,
He was one incredible pup,
He could tell what I was thinking,
Especially, if it was a walk.
I had a dog and his name was Charlie
He could be a comical boy
Like when he would bulldoze his nose
Through the freshly fallen snow.
I had a dog and his name was Charlie
I remember how he made me laugh
When he would bound up just like a deer
Then be lost in the long summer grass.
I had a dog and his name was Charlie
He had a real rhythmic trot
I’d love to watch his tail go to an fro
Whenever we went for a walk.
I had a dog and his name was Charlie
He was the brightest you ever did see
He would go and guard my child
With a command of Watch Baby.
I had a dog and his name was Charlie,
He always gave me his very best,
And though it got tough in the very end
To be in his company, I was blessed.
I had a dog and his name was Charlie,
We were the very best of friends,
It is true that I did love him,
Right until the very end.
They’ve been incorporated onto a Hop, Skip and Jump tape I made for our children, along with other traditional rhymes and a few more I made about our own children.
After Charlie’s passing, I was engaged in a dilemma of whether or not to get another dog. My dreams once again seemed to help guide me. Of course the first dreams were kind of fun, with Charlie running through his favourite places chasing both squirrels and rabbits at the same time… doggy heaven indeed. And there were others where I happily met up with him and gave him a hug. It is funny how the feelings of these dreams can stay with you causing an actual physical presence of healing in your body. They were all good dreams, but I still missed Charlie and wondered if I should get another dog. The time wasn’t really right as we were still reeling from the “Flood of the Century” and the thought was that it would probably be better to get the house back into order before adding another variable. But I truly think the Divine often has other plans than ours.
I was heading for BJ Toys in Transcona for items for my daughter’s birthday party when my children fell asleep in the back of the car just moments before arriving there. Wanting to give them extra time, I decided to just drive around a bit and then found myself on Kent Road. ‘Hmmm, Kent Road, I said to myself. What’s on Kent Road?’ The name sounded familiar to me. I could see some balloons in the distance and so proceeded with curiosity. As I pulled up beside them and stopped, I read a sign posted ‘Open House’. Now this wasn’t an open house to purchase, but an invitation to come into The Winnipeg Humane Society that shelters animals in need of adoption. I looked at my children who were still deep in sleep, and because we were in Transcona and at the end of a road, I thought they would be fine for a few minutes while I poked my nose inside. Of course anyone who visits a place like this knows that there is no such thing as just poking your nose inside. It turned out to be one of a few visits I made there within a few days of each other. I won’t go into all the details, but there was one dog that I began to become attached to. I hadn’t let my husband know that I was courting the idea of a dog because again, I thought the time may not be right and he expressed a feeling that he would like to be free of animals so that our holidays might extend to the fancier hotels. But it wasn’t long when my emotions betrayed me and surfaced abruptly while serving supper, startling those around me and so I sent myself off to bed without eating the meal prepared.
As I slept I dreamt that I was flying over an island where a woman of around fifty lived alone. There were no trees on the island, but she had stacked hay bales to provide shade and shelter. I thought she was clever. I could see her busily doing some kind of craft while I flew over her home. The message in the dream at the time was that she had everything she needed. Well almost everything…. Next I was down on the ground in the grass looking off in the distance at a rolling hill… coming in a run over this hill was a dog. I knelt down to catch it in my arms (like a Disney show for children). I missed and it flew past me. Let’s try that again, I thought and rewound the dream film. The dog began in the same place, only this time I did catch it when it landed in my arms. The dream ended. (An aside for the moment, in another dream, I dreamt of the name “Ginger” for a dog.)
On Mother’s Day, my husband ever sensitive to my feelings said to me, “If getting a dog makes you happy, then get a dog.” Now that the decision was in my court, I went for a walk and found myself crying in relief and confusion while I sorted my thoughts. I made up my mind that if the dog that I was interested in was gone the next day, then I wouldn’t allow myself to get attached to another one in respect for my husband’s feelings of not wanting at least at this present time to get another dog. I could wait awhile longer until the time was appropriate.
I brought my two youngest children with me. Upon arrival and inquiry at the desk, I found that the dog I had been contemplating was gone. “That’s alright”, I said, “I’m just glad he found a home.”
The children asked if they could look at the puppies. “Sure,” I said, “Go on in.” I waited outside because I knew that we were not going to get a puppy. My thought was that my children were little and puppies bite and scratch. I didn’t want them getting hurt by an over-exuberant puppy and perhaps then develop a fear of dogs. I waited, and I waited, and then some more for them to come out. I began to wonder what was taking them so long. I looked through the window on the door and saw both of them with their fingers stuck through the bars of a cage at the very end of the line of cages. Hmmph, I thought, the puppy is not biting. I entered the room out of curiosity to see what kind of puppy doesn’t bite. The first thing I saw was a little black nose in the shape of a heart as a pink spot just above the top of the nose brought out this shape. The next thing I noticed were two little light brown eyebrows topping shining black eyes. Then I saw one pointy black ear and one white ear. Then as her head came down and forward, the white ear flopped… ‘Awe, now, would you look at that’, I thought, ‘the white ear has black spots on it!” That did it, my heart melted and I was drawn toward this pup.
An elderly couple had made their way down to the puppy and they began commenting on it. My own heart began to race and I thought I couldn’t get to the reception counter fast enough to claim this puppy as my own. Indeed we did bring her home despite my resolution not to get attached to another. There have been no regrets in doing so, and since then she has graced us with her unique presence and true to her beginnings has the sweetest temperament I have ever known in a dog. I began to call her “Ginger” because of her little brown eyebrows. Someone told us we should have called her Oreo, because of her black and white coloring. But she ended up with the name “Cookie”, because one day I called out “Ginger Cookie!” and that is what she came to, and so it was shortened to Cookie, a name that really does describe how sweet she is.
You would think that with Cookie, I would have been able to forget about Charlie, but a large part of my heart was still with him. There was a dream where I had both dogs. Cookie was in the house and I had Charlie tied up on the porch and he was pacing back and forth. I thought to myself – Look I’ve got both dogs and I am keeping Charlie alive just by the sheer force and need of my will. ‘This is something marketable for all those people who miss their animals!’, (which shows how deep in my conscious the will to make a living from home was ingrained). But then a thought broke into my reverie. It said that I could have Charlie again if I wanted, but that he would have to go through the same things, including suffering all over again. I said no to this and let him go. From that moment onward I never felt any pain when I thought of Charlie. My mourning had finally passed. Oh, and one other thing. In the dream Cookie pressed her teeth into my arm with a soft bite and the thought came, “I’m here now.”
I dreamt of Charlie one more time. It was when I asked the question, “What is the Truth?” just before going to sleep.
I dreamt of Charlie at our old address where naturally he would be as that is where he spent most of his life with us rather than the one year he lived at our new location. He was in the back porch. He looked like he had just had a bath—his whites were white and clean and fluffy and not a hair was out of place. He looked absolutely Perfect. I said to him that I missed him and I hugged him. It was so good to see him. This is the last image that I’ve dreamt of him.
It wasn’t what I had expected as an answer when I asked the question, “What is the Truth?” In my mind, I was asking a question having to do with the varying truths of different religions, but when one thinks of it, the ultimate question when contemplating a faith is “What happens after death?” So this dream did in a way answer my question. It showed me that those who pass away are held in Perfect form.
SUNRISE SALUTATION
I find that the bulk of dreams seem to be a sorting mechanism sifting through your thoughts and actions of the day or even the past week and further back—which is not to downplay this function as it has been proven that without dreams a person can go mad. I am happy that most of this is automatic, as I have already experienced the day and a lot of what happens could be filed under “routine” and even “garbage” in my opinion.
However there are also those treasured moments that we try to capture through writing, pictures (photographic and otherwise), music and theatre; that which we wish could last forever. (Personally, and this thought has already be written by others and I tend to agree, is that there is a Great Record Keeper who does record everything right down to the finest cell and more, that registers the good and the bad, and all in between. I believe that once this present body is worn out, that I—whatever that consists of—can personally go back to any moment in time and “replay” it as if I am there in that moment and so nothing is lost. One need never fear losing that which we hold dear.
There is a catch to this however; part of our job is to ensure that the recording device (our body) is in top technical condition. It other words, try not to pollute the mind and body; keep it in excellent condition and as calm and clear as possible so that a perfect surface is rendered for a high quality recording. The other part of this theory (not my own) is that in that record though, when you go back you can also experience the moments in your life from every other perspective of those living conscious beings around you and how you affected them from their perspective. Somewhat like the butterfly flapping its wings theory.
I have found dreams also to be a great source of wisdom helping to solve problems. As time may be thought of as a whole of events, instead of linear, perhaps some dreams and our consciousness with it steps off our linear passage and reaches out to the whole. It could be that this is how an element of prescience may be served. That doesn’t mean that everything is set in stone—Like our planet hurtling through space, things can grow, and change, and evolve at the same time, so to speak.
A dream of my own that helped to move negative feelings, and which I discovered to be a little prescient, I’ve come to call my “Cheryl” dream. I say “Cheryl” as if her name is a thing because people can become symbols within dreams to represent a state of being. This became apparent to me when I had dreams of people repeatedly that I hadn’t seen in decades and wondered why. The key came when I thought of a girl I used to go to school with named, “Debbie” that I kept dreaming about. I asked myself, what is it about Debbie that stands out to me. That was easy. It was the fact that no matter what, she was always laughing and joking, even allowing herself to become the so-called ‘butt’ of the joke and yet all the while genuinely joining in with everyone, able to laugh at herself. She was very easily liked. I looked at what was going on in my life when I dreamt about her. This is when I realized it was a way of telling myself to lighten up and laugh, to not take myself or life so seriously.
There were other people dreams that seemed to prove this theory, like when a group of girls I felt in the past I could never live up to were dreamt of when I was feeling insecure and judgmental about myself.
(A nice aside here is while I attended a reunion, one of these girls, now a woman was the first to greet me with a hug. It is really wonderful how the edges of our separations soften when we realize we are all passing through a particular place and time together. This then becomes our common ground where differences in character and groups, and barriers between those whom we ‘hung out with’ melt away and we all join together in this joyous reunion.)
Now I will give you some insight how Cheryl, also a school friend, became symbolic, beginning with the first years of my schooling.
My education began in what would now be considered a very old-fashioned setting. I am personally happy and grateful for the experience because it gave me an opportunity to compare a small group to a large group setting for learning. I began in a one-room school without running water. I recall drinking a small amount of water in a paper cone cup dispense from a container high above that I felt did not nearly at all match my thirst after a hard play at recess. I can still recall the taste of the paper's rolled edge along the top of the coned cup. We stood in line and our teacher told us riddles while we waited for our turn for a drink. That first riddle is one I can still readily remember and have repeated to my own children when they were small. (Do you know the one that goes, “What is black and white and ‘red’ all over?” ) I have many memories of this school that should one day go into a children’s book.
Many one and two room schools were being closed when I was in grade four, including ours. It was a massive transition for me to go from a one room school of a few students to over 500 students. In short, grade five and six were a shock and a disaster. I went from being the creative leader of friends coordinating games and activities at recess, to an outcast whose sarcastic sense of humour was taken seriously unless it was picked up from under my breath from someone they knew; then they laughed, every time.
I was then determined by grade seven when several schools were to be pooled together into a brand new school which I was also to attend, that I would somehow ”get it right” and make friends. On the first day I sat back and watched to learn as much as possible about how everyone interacted in a large setting. This was especially educational when the teacher left the room for an extended period of time.
I noticed there was one girl in particular of whom everyone gathered around. She smiled and joked and her face lit up as she exercised her laugh to the fullest. There was also a group of students who were firing spitballs to the ceiling and into the teacher’s briefcase. This didn’t turn out to be the humorous affair they thought it would be and I personally didn't find their behaviour to be entertaining or very much instructional as you can well imagine. My attention was drawn back to the girl—I thought to myself that I wasn’t the giggling type but I could certainly smile and so I made up my mind to make a conscious effort to smile more often.
I was given the opportunity to do so immediately as there was someone who looked like me, or rather I looked just like her from the back—so much so that many people came up from behind calling me “Cheryl”. I learned that she must be a very friendly person as daily there were many people calling me or tapping me on the shoulder to get her attention. Subsequently, I introduced myself to her and her friends, some of whom eventually also became my own, including Cheryl. The added bonus was that this also helped me to establish a new relationship with the previous group of people I had gone to school with, who I thought had misread me.
This brings us to the dream I intended to share. In reality I had to leave work as I was not feeling well. So much so, that I immediately went beneath the covers upon arriving home and fell into a deep sleep. I dreamt that I was walking along a pier by an ocean side.
I imagine part of me was still thinking of work as a colleague came along in the dream and teased me that I didn’t really seem to be ill so I might as well join him for a drink in a bar situated close by. I declined and set out for a walk along the pier where the sun was setting instead. That is when I saw the back of Cheryl. I called to her in joyous anticipation as I had not seen her in many years. As I came up to her and she turned around, I was startled to find it wasn’t her. I say ‘startled’ because what I was met with, was my own face. We were both equally surprised. This was demonstrated with a raising of our eyebrows, and mutual thought I’m sure, of, ‘interesting’. I began to explain that I don’t usually look this bad, that I was feeling ill, never mind the snowmobile suit I was wearing, (which was probably indicative of the fever and warmth of being beneath the blankets), whereas she was wearing a bathing suit and looking young, strong and healthy. She then turned toward the water, stood tall and straight, lifted her arms forward, up and over her head stretching backward; then forward to her toes where she then put her hands on the ground and stretched her legs out behind her, kneeled back into a crouch and then forward into a push-up, tucked her legs back under, rose up again into a standing position with her arms held straight up over her head and finally executed a beautiful dive into the water.
I pondered this dream and found it to be very illuminating pointing out a misguided concept I had of myself at the time. I believed I was getting old because I was 28 and developing wrinkles. Now at my present age, I find this comical, but at the time, I was serious. The dream showed me that I wasn’t as old as I thought and that did much to boost my self-esteem. But where the real interest is in this dream comes from the future.
One day I was exercising and suddenly realized that I was doing what she had been doing in the dream… that is, a yoga exercise called “The Sun-rise Salutation”, which I had not started incorporating into my exercise routine until a later date that followed the time period that this dream took place.
It has become a favorite exercise as it both calms and strengthens the mind and the body, though now I have changed it slightly to accommodate my lower back.
MEETING IN HAWAII
I had a semi-shared dream with my sister though she lives two provinces away. I dreamt that we were walking side by side in Hawaii and as I was admiring the local fauna, I said, “That’s the nice thing about Hawaii, you could pull people in a cart for a living and drink wine, then just as easily sleep under the fauna (Because the weather is so nice.) My sister agreed, but then didn’t want to discuss it further as she wished to visit a (rich) friend of hers. I was disappointed as I enjoyed being in her company alone but agreed to visit her friend. She then opened a department store door and disappeared. I spent the rest of the dream searching for her.
Now in real life, we talked on the telephone and I told her that I dreamt that we were in Hawaii together and proceeded to go on about the dream when she said, “That’s funny, I had a dream of us in Hawaii too and you said, “That’s the nice thing about Hawaii… and the next thing I knew I was catching a plane.—(Probably to see her rich friend.)
SHARED DREAM –It has been shown that sometimes when people sleep in groups together over a period of time (like those in the army), that they may begin to share dreams or portions thereof. When our family moved from the city to the country, my husband and I both had a dream that we were renovating our home in the city and that when we looked out the front living-room window, the big Russian Olive tree that I had planted and grown for 10 years for its heavenly scent had been chopped down.
The good news is that in reality the tree is still there. (At least it was at the original time of this writing, now over 20 years later, it is not.)
Perhaps as trees have often represented life, this dream was a reflection of the fact that our lives were now going to be different and the old one completely cut off. This could be especially true if you think of renovating as creating something new.
On the subject of new—a dream encouraging a new form of creativity comes to mind.
PAPER MACHE
There was a time when I was very unhappy with my employment, so once again just before going to sleep I asked what it was I could do to make a living. I had a dream that I descended into the basement of a man’s house. (As a house can represent the self in a dream, the basement can represent the subconscious.) In this basement I was met with wall to wall, and floor to ceiling paper mache items of all shapes and sizes, all painted in wonderful brilliant colors.
I asked the artist where he obtained all of the materials to make such astounding beautiful creations. He said he just used whatever came to hand.
I had forgotten about this dream until I found myself about two years later making my own paper mache masks, which have now evolved to making my own paper prior to making the masks. They are decorated with whatever I find at hand. Also, there is a large part of me that laments something every time I go to put it into recycling as I feel that there must be a way I could put it to better use.
MISCARRIAGE
Speaking of masks, there is one in particular that turned out to be prescient in its making and thus it had been given a name that reflected the event–“miscarriage”. I had made the mask after conceiving though I wasn’t aware of this until the pregnancy was miscarried. Even then, I did not make the connection to the mask until an upcoming show, when I had to think of names for many of the masks including this one. The blue eggs upon the mask and threads of red prompted the name–It was then that I realized the prescient quality of this particular mask.
It has occured to me since then that I could have given it a more positive name because at the eventual showing of the masks I was well into another pregnancy, but this time a healthy one. It could have been a combination of both stories when one thinks of the blue eggs.
RELEASING THE DAM
I have found that dreams whether they be day, night, or flashes of insight tend to inspire and heal, that they are beneficial at moving or lessening negative emotions that surround a situation. Some might say “big deal”, what good does it do to heal emotions? Well, my answer would be that we now have enough scientific data to prove that a large portion of our ailments can be triggered by stress, and what is stress but a build up of emotions. It then stands to reason that moving negative emotions out or at the very least lessening the impact of them is beneficial to your health–worthwhile then to pay attention to our dreams.
I remember when I first experienced an excessive accumulation of emotions brought on by stress. I was in my early twenties. There were problems concerning my family life, and my love life wasn’t fairing well either.
I turned to a book that was written by someone who was trying to tune into Jesus. It was very inspirational and so it shouldn’t come as a surprise that I would then have a series of dreams that had a theme of Jesus to them. But whether they genuinely carried the energy of the actual Jesus as written in the bible, is not for me to debate. It is the physical and psychological impact that these dreams had on my life and the continual positive influence they have to this day that I find important.
Personally I think we are of the making that more often than not we find our focus and strength through symbols, whether that is a Flag and what it represents or a figure, real or imaginary like Star Wars or Lord of the Rings figures, an athlete, dancer or particular person, place, animal or thing, real or imaginary. This can represent a feeling or concept that resonates with us and thus serves as a focal point so that we may pursue a goal or live in a particular way.
Dreams can also be symbolic and provide for movement to facilitate change and healing. Even negative dreams, upon examination can serve to move into a positive direction, or at the very least point out what concept or idea the subconscious is giving contemplation, examination and exploration to, even though consciously it may or may not be something one would ever give actuality to.
In the first ‘Jesus’ dream, I was struggling to climb a mountain, but kept sliding back down. (This ‘climbing of a mountain’ is a common dream motif that I have experienced.) In front of me, but over to the left just out of sight I felt a presence of someone standing and watching me. I didn’t look there but instead continued my struggle until I finally reached the top, then straightened up and stood still on the mountain pinnacle.
This is when the presence spoke and I felt it was Jesus. He said, “See, you can do it.” Following this utterance, a energy began flowing through and around me. I can’t say exactly where it began, but it was like a fountain running from the bottom of my soles (at first I typed soul, which is probably a perfect slip, because it would be more like the bottom of my soul), then the energy ran through the center of my being and up over my head, split into a butterfly wing shape that ran outside of my body, to the left and right returning again to below my feet to begin the process again. This continued for many rounds until I woke up.
This energy carried the most wonderful feelings of love that I have ever experienced. Not a sexual love in any way, but a heartfelt one. The way I have often described it, is that it felt like that moment you may have experienced when you are at a wedding and you quietly look around at all the people, your family and friends, many of whom you have known for ten years or more, when a great feeling of love washes over you for everyone there, life as it is and humanity as a whole... and then magnify it many-folds over and into a continual flow. This dream demonstrated to me without a doubt that there is a fountain of pure love for giving and receiving.
Another dream that was triggered by this book and the fact that I was praying for guidance as my mother was going through a very dark period in her life began with Jesus walking beside me. (Though all I saw as we were walking was our sandaled feet. This shows the extent of my religious upbringing as I was not raised with a specific faith, but was given the concept of God. This imagery then was what my subconscious drew from the occasional pamphlets I would have seen over time.) In the landscape that we walked in, it was night and barren. There were many figures walking in random directions, some crying, others with their hands over their faces and generally all were looking lost and miserable. Jesus and I were talking extensively as we had done in one other dream, but I cannot remember what exactly we were saying, except one question that I asked of him—the same one that I consciously prayed during the day. “What should I do, especially to serve the good, with my life?” The answer came in the form of an image as the dream ended, with my two hands facing palms up.
The simplest conclusion I came to for the message of the dream was… work or do something with your hands, give of yourself through your hands. As an artist this seemed quite logical. Lend a helping hand is certainly another interpretation, and not to forget the well-known saying, “Idle hands become the tools of the devil.” Finally, it could simply mean “GIVE”.
Now, do not get the impression that I am a holy person (look at the next title and read what follows). Although I do give a lot of thought to seeking the truth and keep trying my best to do my part in helping make the world a better place, my faults go deep, especially when it comes to my temper. Also I have not been afraid to explore where holy people of the religious order would dare not go. I was not given many barriers to my curious exploration of the world as a child. I am glad and grateful for that because it has made it easier for me to go within myself to discern through my own intuition what I think is really ‘The Truth’. This has generated a belief in me that if you are truly seeking God and Love and Truth, or to be more generic, the Divine, and it with a genuine open heart and mind, for the good of all, then no matter your circumstances, the Divine and Love and Truth will find you.
HOLY CRAP
My first explorations for the truth began with Tarot Cards. I never saw visions with them. I just read the meanings of the cards. I disregarded meanings written by people who seemed to have too negative an attitude. I tended to learn from writings that were more spiritual and positive. For those of you who have never dared to look to tarot cards, you will be surprised to find that for some, such as myself, that that exploration can lead to prayer. I have mostly always listened to my consciousness that told me what was right and wrong and tried to do better. I have sent up silent hopes and wishes throughout my life that over time, I have come to realize, are prayers. But I was never taught (except of course the Lord’s Prayer in grade school.) to send up formal prayers written by others until I became interested in Tarot Cards. The first one I learned that came with the reading cards was as follows:
Dear Heavenly Father,
I Entreat Thee
to graciously bestow upon me
Thy Heavenly Blessing,
Purify my thoughts and actions
so that they may be
guided and directed
by Thy Divine Wisdom.
Believing that all things
are possible in Thy Name
I beseech Thee
to fill my whole being
with love, compassion
and understanding
for all those who come my way
Bless me with True Knowledge
and the ability to receive
Thy Everlasting Love
into my soul
so that I may sincerely
seek out the truth
in thy holy name.
Help me to rise above
my own earthly concerns
and to inspire those
who are in need of thy love and guidance at this time.
Thank you Father
Amen
Perhaps if everyone sincerely tried to make this prayer a part of their attitude and being, the world would take a new direction.
I turned to Tarot cards because of what was happening in my life, as many people do when they run out of answers. My boyfriend and I had broken up for the ump-teenth time and I had gone through all the regular routes of crying to family and friends, the bar scene, etc. and tired of these routes and the lack of answers they gave.
A little interjection here, to do with bars—Once I dreamt of Hell and it was a Bar and the people in the bar were having a good time and didn’t know that they were in hell. There were windows, but only one of them was open where you could fly out. Once I consciously acknowledged to myself that I knew it was Hell, and was making for the window, the sentinels of Hell signalled each other that there was a breech in their security and I was to be caught immediately. I then couldn’t get to the window because of the guards and so I began to descend some stairs to a lower level. The humorous part of this dream to me was that a deeper level of hell encompassed an empty table with knitting needles. I thought to myself that it wouldn’t be so bad, except for the conversation. On reflection, I guess those who abuse their bodies with drugs and alcohol are not quite as guilty and bad as those with a clear and clean mind who deliberately tarnish others with gossip.
I had to continue to try and escape the guards and so did not give this table talk any more thought. It was in that moment that I realized this was a dream. ‘Good’, I thought, ‘Then I can do what I want.’ Armed with this assertion I began to ascend back up the stairs. The guards were coming down and I said, “You don’t see me.” Most of them went past and did not see me, but then I guess some did, as they came back and grabbed my arm and tried to drug me with a needle. It was ineffective. I escaped and flew out the window.
This brings to mind other dreams of evil (have you ever noticed that the word evil is “live” backwards… the message seems to be that evil, or the d.evil, is that which goes against living, or life, maybe then the “d” in evil is representative of the word “death”, though death in and of itself sometimes is welcomed, especially when one is in unbearable pain). I have had several dreams where the power of evil has held me entirely in its grasp. In one case, it lifted me up vehicle and all up into the sky away from my father’s yard where I grew up. I said it can’t do that. The force answered me back with pure malevolence that “yes” it could. At first fear totally washed over me, but then it was gone and I said to the force, “now what”. The scenario ended and the force was gone.
The same thing happened in another dream when I was trying to help young women to come off the streets by suggesting that they at least take up typing so that they might apply for a regular job. While following one of the women to her underground hangout or abode, this force lifted me up off of the stool I was sitting on at a booth and turned me up-side-down and held me stationary in the air that way. The woman I was speaking with was visibly shaken. The first few seconds I was frightened, but then I said to the woman not to be concerned because this has happened before. “Really?” she said, though I am not sure my words reassured her. With my fear gone I turned my attention back to the force and as it was obvious it was their move, I said, “Now what?” Again, like before, it left.
This played out once more in a dream about death, when I was contemplating the whole concept of it. In the dream, a car accident had taken place. People were running away from it, as I went toward the vehicle that had smashed up against a ancient brick wall. Before reaching the vehicle, I was drawn momentarily to peek over the fence to see what was on the other side. There was a group of people with their backs to me of whom in front was what appeared to be an Aztec Priest joining into marriage a couple. Though I was now nervous at my intrusion on this ceremony, I must have appeared a comical site with just my eyes peering over the fence, as he now in good humour had the congregation turn toward me and capture me within their sight. Next I was following them up within a small stone tower as part of the closing of their wedding ceremony. I remember thinking with that winding up the stairs that I wished that I could meet an old Indian Shaman woman so that I could learn about medicinal plants from her. At this point I was handed a artwork that had an image of a hand with a lightning bolt extending to or from the fingers.
I then continued on my way past the fence and the accident without looking within, compelled to follow down the long country road toward the sound of a singing voice I heard in the distance. Her voice was amazing . As I advanced, I could see that she was sitting cross-legged by the road just within the edge of the woods. The purpose of her singing seemed to be to dispel the negative energy surrounding the accident. As I approached closer to her, in my thoughts I wondered about death. She did not answer, but following the contemplation that served to be more of a question, this great invisible force advanced from out of the woods and towered heavily over and upon me gradually forcing me to the ground. I did not resist it, but rather opened myself to learning. The force lifted and disappeared.
What remains equally strong in my mind about this dream though was the beautiful melodious voice of the woman that seemed to infuse the whole atmosphere with a vibration that was incredibly soothing.
Speaking of singing and music—I recall one particular dream where the singing was so beautiful that I didn’t want to wake up but lay with my eyes closed trying not to completely wake up, to fall back to sleep to recapture what I was hearing.
I have also had dreams where the color was so vivid that it reminded me of pictures that the scientific world has shown to demonstrate how insects see the world with a much wider color spectrum than we do.
Many of these dreams came through as I read and explored numerous varieties of religious, spiritual and metaphysical books.
BACK TO THE TAROT
One of the first rules I broke with the Tarot was not to read my own cards. What I did learn through doing this was that they directed me to honestly look inward and ask questions, face inadequacies that needed addressing. They also gave positive messages as well as help to encourage an optimistic way of viewing things.
The cards that I used were designed to cover the major stages and situations a person goes through in their life. Some of the symbols were antiquated but in many cases could be translated to reflect modern situations.
There are many different kinds of tarot cards today and a lot of them have completely lost the original symbols and meanings. No one really knows when or where the cards originated. Some believe they were a compilation of the religious doctrine of Goddess worship from the time when the rule was of the Matriarchy. That this then was the reason they were labelled as evil when the Patriarchy was put into place.
However that may be, what I find fascinating is how they can fall into serendipitous patterns as if the hidden fingers of the divine shuffled them into a given pattern. It doesn’t always work—I found them useless when I just sort of wanted an answer. I will give you a few examples of when they did seem to work. Of course there is the argument that one can read whatever one likes into the cards—In some cases, this is very true, and if you are of this mindset, then hold your overall opinion for the moment until the completion of the following story.
It was prior to the “Flood of The Century” when our good friends and neighbours came for a Friday evening of socialization. Now I hadn’t really read the cards myself for decades as I felt I no longer needed them, believing that the divine always has some part in one’s life and you don’t need to consult the cards to listen and learn; but periodically this particular friend liked me to read hers. This was one of those nights...
“You would!”, I answered upon her request, which may seem like a funny thing to say, but with the circumstances surrounding the situation, I knew that this reading would have to include me because rather than just a general reading, she was asking a direct question of whether we would be flooded by the waters coming from the south. As our family lived in the same area, the answer would also affect us.
“O.K.”, I said to a reading, “but I don’t want to do a full reading. I will bring out a different deck and you can choose one card. (The cards I was indicating had artwork of animals on them where each had a lesson to teach in regard to their particular characteristics and behaviours. A simple example would be a bee. We all know the saying “busy as a bee” and understand that it means one who is kept busy working, not only for oneself, but for the good of the whole as well.)
After shuffling the deck and fanning the cards out upon the table, my friend drew her card from the middle of the deck. She turned it over and we saw it was a cougar. The general message of that card was “show courage”. We agreed that this is something needed when you are hauling sandbags at a frantic pace to try and save your home from the coming waters—but it was not a definite answer to the question of whether the waters would flood overland. So it was apparent that I must also draw a card. I hesitated a moment, then chose mine and turned it over. It was a Whale!
Now if ever there was a animal card that could represent water coming, it has got to be this one. Of course we laughed because of the synchronicity, but now I felt a further reading was called for, and went to retrieve the regular Tarot deck that I normally used.
The most significant card within the next reading was of the moon. Think about it—What is one scientific fact that we know about the moon, that as a matter of fact, all of humanity that lives near the lakes or oceans probably know?... For those of you that haven’t guessed yet, I will tell you. The moon affects the tides of water. The imagery on the particular moon card I had, showed two pillars on either side of the card. If one is reading about whether a flood was coming or not, you can’t help but see them as flood gates open which would allow the water to come through. And that is what happened in reality to a place that hadn’t seen the water come that high in one hundred years.
But I have to say, it wasn’t as though I hadn’t been warned long before I even moved there. And yes, it was through a dream—As a matter of fact, through three dreams. I have this whole story written out in another document. Rather than re-tell it again, I have brought it forward below for you to read it as it was written quite some time ago.
I remember:
EVACUATION:
Even though I began packing one month before we were suddenly told to evacuate, we were working right up until the last minute of the evacuation time set. It began to rain and I feared that we wouldn’t be able to get out of the driveway because there was no gravel and the road began to turn to mud. The momentum of preparations had built to such a crescendo that when it came for the final moment of leaving within minutes of the deadline, we almost forgot our beloved dog, Charlie, whom we had for 12 years. My husband took his vehicle with some of our possessions. Our three children and Charlie came with me.
As we rounded onto the highway and began to gain speed, I turned on the radio to listen to CBC. The music seemed to mirror the frenzied and dramatic pace of the situation…DAdada DAdada…DAdada….DAdada. Looking out at the landscape that was covered like a sea in water,
I felt as though I was Noah carrying my precious cargo, family and animal(s) to safety. My youngest daughter asked what it was like the last time it flooded 100 years ago. I answered, “I am sure that they didn’t have the warning we did and so couldn’t prepare as we were able to, that at least we are leaving safely with what is most important.”
As we arrived to the city limits, it was like we were watching a movie in slow motion and descending into a different world. The one we had been living in for over a month was ON ALERT, watchful, anxious, yet exhilarated with the mounting energy of the circumstances with all moving together at a accelerated pace. We were surrounded with unusual sights and sounds that became a part of our daily lives such as helicopters, bulldozers, army trucks and tanks, and dynamite explosions as efforts to observe the approaching waters, break up the ice to move and lower the water levels were made. I still cannot look at a freshly bull-dozed heap of earth without my insides doing an equal flip with the memory of it. Images get under your skin without your conscious knowing and can come back to haunt you in the future.
There was one particular explosion that happened that sticks in my mind as it woke me around five o’clock in the morning the day before evacuation. I was told a crew was up early trying to fill sandbags to keep up with the rising waters. As the dump truck was lifting the back bucket of the truck to pour out the sand, it touched a power line that ignited a charge so strong it blew the driver right out of the vehicle. Whether the story is true or not requires some investigation, but it certainly matched the feeling I had when hearing the explosion. It jolted me out of my moment of peaceful sleep and mirrors how we were all knocked out of our regular and familiar lives.
So it was with incredible wonder that I looked around us when we arrived in the City of Winnipeg and saw people leisurely taking in the Spring day as usual by taking a stroll, walking their dogs, raking the leaves and generally seemed to be oblivious to what we were experiencing. It was such a stark contrast that it rendered all that was observed into a surreal slow motion moving picture. It was like we had just come from a war scene and were entering a peaceful country.
RECOVERY:
I believe the hardest part of experiencing a flood is the slow process of recovery and all it entails.
In as few words as possible like the bits, pieces and flashes of memory that still lie too close to the surface with the emotions that they carry, I will let memories float to the surface without stirring the pot too much…
PANORAMIC VIEW
I dreamt
that I was sitting
by a window
that offered
a very high
panoramic view
of the land.
I felt relaxed
and safe.
The flood
could
come.
Little
did I know
that my husband
had the foresight
to reserve
a suite
at the
Plaza Louise Riel
that is
the only hotel
that would
accommodate
our dog
as well as us.
Our room
was on
the 27th floor
offering
a panoramic view
of the land.
DREAM FRAGMENT
I wondered why
I dreamt of
Austin
thinking it was
rather odd
as we had
already found
our country home.
Is Austin, Manitoba
northwest?
And what
was with
the number
10,000.
An answer came
in a ride
up the elevator
to the 27th floor
of the Plaza Louis Riel
when a man with a Texan accent
said that we did not fair
so bad with this flood
as a disaster that hit
Austin, Texas
affecting
10,000
people.
NO GOING HOME YET
I
envied
people
the simple
blessing
of being able
to partake of
the rituals
of Spring
like raking
leaves,
planting
a garden
and all that
goes with
Spring
Cleaning.
RETURNING HOME
1st TIME
Apple Blossom Tree
surrounded by a
sea of yellow
dandelions
welcoming
my eldest daughter
to climb
in the branches
as my other
daughter
struggles
to retrieve
her red
tricycle
from the
long
green
grass.
Trepidation
at stepping in
the back door
of our house
to follow
the path
of the
flood
water
to view
the
damage
left
as its
signature.
Still, it is
good
to be
home.
2ND time home
ASSAULT!
The vision
of water damage
did not assault
my soul
as much as
did the stripping
and gutting
of our
basement
to rid it
of
contamination.
Half the reason
we bought
this house
was because
of the tastefully
finished rooms
complete with
French doors.
The wooden stairs
under my feet
delivered the first
jolt of shock.
Walls stripped
to the cement
and hanging
wires of various
lengths like tentacles
amongst cold
pipes and floor
assaulted my
vision.
If a house
in symbolism
is likened to
the body
then it felt
as though not only
was it overwhelmed
by a flood
but now
a ravaging
and rape
took place
as well.
Nothing
was
left
of its former
self
and
it looked
violently
ugly
leaving us
with a
pitiful
sinking
feeling.
A
story
circulated
of a worker
lying
on a
living room
floor
watching
television
wearing
the home
owner’s T-shirt
and drinking
the
beer
from his
fridge.
STONE SOUP
Tetanis shots
afraid to let
children play outside
broken glass
rusty nails
deposited floating debris
sheds washed up on shore
tires suspended in trees
torn sandbags in branches
drowned trees
errant oil tanks
no water
water bottles
canned goods
no money
fill out this form
telephone here
talk to this person
go to this place
we have moved
yes we cover that
no we don’t cover that
need more proof
postponed birthday party
Noise, noise, noise
Fans to dry house
Jack hammers
Electric hammers
Ordinary hammers
Saws
Drills
Sanders
Vacuums
and
more
Lost Privacy
Lost Routines
Chaos
Can’t keep track
of simple things
Lost Hair
never to
recover.
Thanks for food
Thanks for shelter
Thanks for schooling
Thanks for clothing
Thanks for toys
Thanks for water
Thanks for helping
Thanks for listening
Thanks for caring
Thanks for friends
Thanks for neighbors
Thanks for family
Thanks for good-hearted strangers
Thank you
for all the good help
that has brought us back
to a healthy environment
and home.
QUESTIONS
Many outsiders
came to our town
with their microphone
pointed at my lips,
But it was
too soon
to answer.
They came
to our door
with a camera
on their shoulder,
But is was
too soon
to answer.
They came
through
the mail
with a
questionnaire
I answered,
But it was
too soon.
They came
two by two
calling
over
time
and
the
radio,
But it was
too soon;
Only now
seven
years
later
and
somewhat
reluctantly
can I
look back
and answer
the questions
properly.
PIED-PIPER PRINCE
It was a funny
experience
it was
as we anticipated
the arrival
of the Prince.
For once
the sound
of a helicopter
heralded
the arrival
of something
good.
We buzzed
like a swarm
of bees
and followed
the leader
through
town.
It must have
looked funny
from heaven
to see us
there on
the
ground.
But
all in all
it was a
positive
connection
in a trying
time.
GOOD PEOPLE
There were many
good people
who joined heart
and hand to ours
helping us
from
sinking
too deeply
into
depression
and
debt
and
we are
thankful
for
them.
Many good people
gave to the cause
and their efforts
helped carry
us over
into a
better
future
and
we are
thankful
for
them.
NEW CEMENT FLOOR
Sitting in the living-room
with the children
in snowsuits
because
the windows are open
to air out
the exhaust fumes from
the fuel powered sander
used to level
the new basement
cement floor.
Promised
the next day
that the sealant
is not toxic
but forced
to the take the children
out for supper
because of the fumes
but really don’t want to
because my son
has been sick.
Only
have ten dollars
to feed our three
tired children
who misbehave
so the waitress
feeds them cookies
before supper
without asking
resulting in them
not eating
what is ordered.
Beg
for a room
so we can
breathe
clear air
at night;
find someone
else’s hair
on the
pillow
and
in the morning
debris
left from
someone
else’s
bath.
in the
tub.
MOD SQUAD
I see progress
coming along
with the Spring
My heart
takes a leap
at the sight
of the walls
that are taking
the form of
a room again.
But now in comes
the swat team
with their
gas masks
and gear
looking
like the
MODSQUAD
as the three
of them
make their
recommendations.
Premature
joy
takes a
downward spiral
as my heart
sinks
with each
tearing
of the walls
that must
be removed
because of
the mold.
Up go the sheets
of plastic
to contain
the spread of
contamination
and daily we push
through
this crackling veil
and climb over
a gate while
balancing our
baskets of
laundry.
I’M OK
Thinking you are ok
until events
that would normally
cause minor disagreement
or discussion
give rise to
bursts of anger and rage,
and songs and news reports
cause a flood of unbidden tears.
WAS IT WORTH IT
I saved
my possessions
from the flood
only to have
them injure
my back
as I carried
the boxes
from room to room
for two years
trying to
make
space
for us
to live
until the
basement
was finished.
In the end
I thought
to put them
in the garage
temporarily
while things
were being
rebuilt
only to have
most of
the contents
destroyed
by mice,
from which
we had to
sift through
their filth
and debris
to retrieve
what we
could.
NORTHERN LIGHTS
Out in the darkness
of a warm summer night
with friends who were
a large part of the reason
we moved here,
counting our blessings
that came out
of the ordeal
we look up
and witness
directly overhead
a starburst of color
by Aurora Borealis
radiantly shining
blessing
this moment
in time.
“GET WELL SOON”
I have a corn plant,
That is its
common name.
It stands 12 feet tall
and looks like a palm tree.
An extraordinary thing happened
during the flood,
Something I haven’t
been able to reproduce
though I have tried.
Upon our arrival back home
this wonderful giant
bloomed.
Every evening
for about a week
as the sun descended,
the sticky white flowers
filled our home
with the most wonderful
almost too sweet
heavenly fragrance.
It lasted
the whole night
filling our slumber
with sweet dreams.
THREE DREAMS
I can only
blame myself
because
I had three dreams,
Three dreams
that told me
go northwest.
“Where Northwest?”
I asked
while flying
over Russia.
In the second
half of the dream
I drove down
a winding road
that ended
by water.
I asked my husband
to come see
the land
It was like
being on holidays
and the houses
were nice
here.
I was told
that
there was
water
in the
Spring.
I could see it
in the dream
in the lower
lying pockets
of land.
That’s alright
I said,
We will just
get a house
that’s
a little
higher up
We did.
Our main floor
is raised
and did not
flood.
In retrospect I see
The winding road
was St. Mary’s Road
of which I never
travelled
before
until
we moved
here
except
in a dream
three
times.
Dreaming of the flood was a “biggy” as far as prescience goes, but I have also had dream prescience about little things, like movies my husband was about to rent.
What purpose they have served for me is to prove that life goes beyond the physical and we are especially connected to those that we care about, that there is a guidance in place, a guidance that everyone is connected to and can learn to tune into. This can take practice like anything else we would like to especially become proficient at.
I believe that too many of us are constantly plugged into the electronics of life, instead of a true source of inspiration, be it as simple as being in nature, or sitting quietly contemplating something. I have a theory that has developed because of my own practice, that once you begin to play at being creative, following your heart like a child with a crayon, then it is like a snowball and keeps growing and growing.
Inspiration has come to me for more projects than I could possibly complete in a single lifetime. I know that practice began with looking and following a little in the direction of what others have done, while looking in books and magazines, but usually this serves only as a spring board where I eventually end up going into my own direction. It is just like learning to walk—You watch someone else first, and then follow your own path.
It is good to be in company of creative people as the exchange can serve to fuel inspiration into more creative endeavors.
Perhaps also spending so much time within nature as a child and going for long walks in the woods with my sister, or by myself helped to develop a quiet mind that would then allow a listening to my inner consciousness.
I have feared at times that I will not live long enough to do everything that I would like to do, but deep down that is not truly a fear for me because of dreams I have had of past lives.
One dream was of myself as a nine year old shepherd boy in Asia. While tending the sheep on a hillside, I looked out at the great rolling and mountainous vista in the distance and felt a tremendous love for this land.
In another dream I am a Greek sentinel on the outskirts of the village. I can tell that I am a male because as I look down at my legs in the dream they are larger and more muscular with soft curly blond hair and the clothing I am wearing includes a skirt in the style that the ancient Greeks wore, along with the customary sandals on my feet. In my hand is a lance and my arm is around my comrade’s shoulders. My feeling in the dream is one of great joy in my life and one of camaraderie towards my friend. I have also dreamt that I was an old native shaman/medicine woman. I was sitting around a fire instructing a teenage girl, reassuring her. I could see my brown wrinkled hands and arms and I knew myself to be around the age of fifty.
These dreams and experiences reinforce a belief that we have been here before, and so it is likely we will be here again as long as the Earth shall live—and if not this earth, then another or a even completely different kind of reality.
I am not sure exactly how this is, but I believe nothing is lost— it is not all for naught. Our efforts at loving and improving do serve a purpose; our connections to those that we love are not lost.
I’ve had dreams where conscious beings are ringed shapes that travel at great speeds on a multitude of infinitely long intersecting lines of color.
I love the Canadian animation called RARG, by Tony Collingwood where they too are seeking knowledge and answers to the big questions. The ending is simply delightful.
ADAM or ADAMAH
Many years ago I had a dream that was curious. I was at the doorway of someone’s house where one could see the whole upstairs from outside the door as it was contained within an open loft area. In fact, there wasn’t even a railing. On this upper level a woman sat on the floor with her baby held within her arms. She then handed me the baby much to my surprise. I felt honoured that she would trust me, a stranger, with her most precious bundle.
The baby was absolutely beautiful, like a porcelain doll.
“What is the baby’s name?” I asked.
“Adam” she said.
“Adam?” I questioned, “But the baby’s a girl!”
The woman appeared agitated and uncomfortable, but answered quietly, “I had to give that name because of where the baby came from.”
I thought to myself for a moment and then directed another question to the mother…
“Couldn’t you feminize the name somehow, like Georgina for George.” I began thinking to myself how one might feminize the name Adam.
When I woke up this dream stayed with me. I became curious and so rose early to look up the name Adam and a possible feminine equivalent on the internet. The name Adamah came up. The definition given for this name was “red earth”.
The synchronicity that fell into place was when I went to McNaullay’s Book Store to cash in on “The Perfect Book”, though no suggestions were given from my sister who gave me a gift certificate for this store as a birthday present. I was really looking forward to exploring the book shop as I hadn’t purchased a brand new book in years. My reading material had all been bought by the bag at library clearances or second-hand book stores.
Within McNaullays I spent about two hours perusing computer books and was narrowing down my choice to one by Robin Williams that would teach me how to create a web page. I was ready to purchase it, but thought with the money left over that I would look for a book on animal mythology for my daughter. She requested one for inspiration to enable her to draw phantasmagorical creatures. Upon reaching the mythological section, a book caught my eye. It was called, The Women’s Encyclopaedia of Myths and Secrets by Barbara Walker. I opened it up and the first thing I read referred me to a section that next led to the name Adamah. Following is an exerpt in quotations.
“From the earliest human cultures, the mysterious magic of creation was thought to reside in the blood women gave forth in apparent harmony with the moon, and which was occasionally retained in the womb to ’coagulate’ into a baby.
Indians of South America said all mankind was made of ’moon blood’ in the beginning. The same idea prevailed in ancient Mesopotamia, where the Great Goddess Ninhursag made mankind out of clay and infused with her “blood of life.” Under her alternate name of Mammetun or Aruru the Great, the Potter, she taught women to form clay dolls and smear them with menstrual blood as a conception-charm, a piece of magic that underlay the name of Adam, from the feminine adamah, meaning “bloody clay,” though scholars more delicately translated it “red earth.” - end quote -
This synchronicity, serendipity in my life has given rise to a faith in me that there is something divine at work. There is comfort to be found. At the time of this writing, things on the financial front have not been going well in our family, but still I feel a positive guidance at work.
As far as our negative financial situation, I will fall back on a Rune I chose one day just before my employer let me go from my position within a bookstore. (A position that I was hired for though I was willing to work for free—if we could agree that I could read as many books as I wished. The agreement was made, but in addition, I was hired.)
“When one door closes, another one opens.”
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It’s been hard at times to recall those words of wisdom since turning in the opposite direction than my dreams had instructed. It has felt as though we have been pushing against a current of ill-fated events that threaten to tear apart our family and drown us all in debt.
Even the whisper of responsibility to bring an income in at the outskirts of my consciousness during the early period, doesn’t compare to the heavy press of a shadow that has mired the past decade of our family life. It has often felt like a ‘Dark Night of the Soul’.
Let me throw some illumination onto this so that you may gain some understanding into why this story is taking such a turn.
History - Herstory - Yourstory - Mystory - Ourstory
Where does our story begin and with whom? Does it begin with the day I was born, or like the song from Phantom of the Paradise… long, long time ago? At the time of this writing it is outlining itself at four o’clock in the morning, a day that is beginning too early but not unfamiliar as this pattern of irregular sleep has been happening for over the last ten years. My only fear is that this lack of rest will once again today lead to a pattern that has become all too familiar; that of irritation and fury directed at those I love most, or washes of despair and meaningless because of the fatigue brought on by a long struggle to overcome that which has pressed upon our nuclear family from the world outside.
Does my own struggle affecting the whole family begin with trying to find a personal direction by quitting twelve years of jobs that stifled 90% of my creativity through eight to ten hours of work a day, leaving me no energy in the end to exercise an innate talent, or does it begin the day I was put behind a desk and forced into unnatural rhythms in grade school, or again, was it long, long ago?
I have been reading History and Herstory. It is very interesting reading, though the outline of it seems to change only slightly. There are human behaviors and outcomes that follow patterns that repeat themselves with only what we call or label them by that seem to change. I have felt it is stolen moments that I read in between our
shared struggle. (Are we all being sublimated to ignorance, our creativity suppressed by the need to work constantly from dusk to dawn to make ends meet?) Were we wrong to believe we could move up in the world with the growth of our family, still though at the time living just within our means? I know most of the creativity that I have achieved over the last decade has generally been accomplished between 9:30 PM and the wee hours of the morning and the majority of this creativity has not to do with soul inspiration but with channeling energies to somehow assist my husband in increasing our financial income. It’s not that our story comes anywhere near to the extreme and obvious terrors, horrors and struggles of those in poverty, the third world, or war torn countries, but it is a personal story that affects us locally.
The root which I wish to pull and transplant begins with my husband losing a job he held for 14 years. It certainly had nothing to do with his own work performance, loyalty or integrity. This loss came just after an instant debt incurred to us of approximately $16,000 left over from the flood that was not entirely compensated for and which was the beginning of a long line of ill fate following and proceeding to this present time. It’s not that we haven’t shared happy times along the way or have been entirely bereft of assistance.
We have gathered many good memories. We have also received assistance that we appreciate and are grateful for. However, in learning from these times, I think it is equally important to enable a person in the capacity in which they have a talent for with a decent wage return so that one can fend for themselves. This would help to keep the dignity intact of those affected by things beyond their control.
At the time of this writing, talk of recession in the media only began within the year of 2009. As a family, we have been on this road for over a decade. A short period (less than a year) following the focus on the recession, the media reported that it is now coming to an end. I hardly believe this report at all for two reasons at least. One, though statistics may say that the unemployed have found jobs and they are using this as a guage; from our own experience, I doubt that many of these jobs have the capacity to bring in the income required, thus putting hardship onto the individual and family. Secondly, we are personally still hearing of more individuals whose jobs may not be secure.
I am writing this I believe because I worry about how other people, families and communities will fair. For those who do not or did not receive a lifeboat of a severance package and inheritance to tide them over and buy some time while they recouperate, how will they manage? My husband and I for the most part are pretty laid-back and optimistic and this trial has shaken us individually, as a couple, and family to the fiber of our being. As the scientific community knows, there is a definite connection between stress and health.It’s also true that I write this in the hope that we may somehow pull our talents and resources together to assist one another, to grow, in all capacities in a balanced and sustainable manner.
In trying to help ourselves, we can extend and join to help others. If there is one thing that I have learned in this climate, it is that cutting back, and cutting back, and cutting back some more may have its positive results in line with the environment and perhaps make a bit of a difference in the bills, but at the same time I have seen that while some of us cut back and cut corners, our efforts are nullified as the cost of living continues to rise, and environmental trade-offs are made for the indulgences of others.
I have cut back and hunkered down so much to try and assist in alleviating our problem and the planet’s, that in the last year I have seen my best friend only twice, once in the Fall and briefly in the Spring. I have cut back on water and electricity use, put our washer, dryer and dishwasher on shorter cycles, put bottles in all of the toilet tanks, filled the sink with less water while doing dishes. I have reserved the rinse water to add soap to wash the next set of dishes. I never leave the water running while brushing my teeth. Lights, radio, etc. are turned off every time I leave a room. The heat is kept low during the day. When I am cold, I put on one or two sweaters and even a cloak if I’m still cold while working on the computer where it is cooler in the house. My vehicle is turned off while I wait for a train to pass, the same if it is apparent I will be stuck immobile for a lengthy period of time in traffic. I am letting my hair grow long (I did want to grow it anyway, for what I thought was one last time before I get too old.) Even my weight is cut back though that is another story. I buy my clothes by the bag at a thrift shop (I would’ve shopped here anyway because I like treasure hunting and I think regular retail prices are far too expensive.)
I’ve cut back buying baked goods and purchased several bread makers (again at the thrift store) in which I make our own buns, muffins, pizza dough, pizza pops, sweets, etc. (except for one bag of cookies and one container of ice-cream.) There are only a couple of frozen or prepared foods that we purchase and it is infrequent that we bring in fast food to ease up on cooking. Going out to a restaurant has become a very, very rare occurrence.
Some of these choices I would have made anyway through the love of the earth, love of a bargain and the joy of cooking and baking occasionally, but now much has become a regular time-consuming endeavor. The return is to try and keep within a budget, make a lighter footprint on the planet. The bonus is minimal additives and preservatives in our food and fresh home-made healthy delicious meals to be served. Our grocery bill average is regularly what it was over a decade ago.
It also helps that I now shop locally which supports community and saves on the fuel that was previously incurred by travelling all the way into the city to shop. When I last calculated our meals per family member, it worked out to be less than a dollar per dinner plate full of food items.
The frustration is that the continual rising prices, number #1, of gasoline is siphoning off most of my efforts, and all this cutting back is not helping us in the least. It seems to only serve a feeling of diminishing until there is nothing left. I think that the present popular way of thinking in trying to solve this problem of the ‘recession’ should be quite the opposite—not that we should carry on our excessive ways especially when it comes to water usage, consumerism, etc.; this definitely should be monitored and adjusted to the best of our ability. What I mean is that I think instead of the ‘cutting back mentality’ which serves to isolate and diminish our lives, we should be reaching out and joining in a concerted effort together—to create a living humanitarian organism likened to our individual bodies with nerves, cells and organs working together for the good of the whole. Also that we need to take much of the surplus money when we do have it and feed it to that which will enrich our lives in a self-generating way long into the future of all living beings for many generations to come—one example, a personal favorite of mine, would be nature. If we nurture nature, it will it will nourish and help to heal us.
The personal happenings and insights I have been writing about are not easy to divulge and I wonder now if I will even continue to do so, or eventually share what has been written. The thought follows though that like in the making of a good friend, often this comes from sharing something about yourself which shows you are extending an element of trust. When that is honoured, then something is usually shared back building that trust. So if one wishes to make a friend of the world, then this eventual sharing should take place. However with news reported by the media and history recorded heavily weighing in the negative arena, this information serves only to build fear and a closing in. Who would want to make friends with that which is filled with so much negativity? It engenders the belief that you would most likely get hurt. But in not reaching out, your world can begin to diminish until it seems to fade out of existence. One must keep in mind the words of wisdom… ‘Those that try to save their lives will lose them”. I have seen my own life, and our family life get smaller and smaller as we struggle on our own. Yet at the same time my heart and plans seemed to be growing bigger and bigger. My love for nature, expressed through photography calls for part of the profit to go back to nature.
Further, because of my own determination as a mother to want to be home with my children, I felt there must be others who wish to do the same. The thought has evolved that perhaps a combination of shared interests can lead to shared commissions.
My husband is a true Englishman in that he continues to give his best effort to keep things running as normally and smoothly as possible—Stiff upper lip and all that. However he has married someone who can be quite emotionally expressive, but I have never wanted to ‘bleed’ on people through sharing the negative, whether in conversation, written word or my art. I would rather gather moments of beauty within the lens of my camera and share that instead of the negative that we have been experiencing. In my opinion, this is a much better use of limited free time. It is also hoped that through this sharing there could be more appreciation generated for our natural world that would enable a desire to care for it. On the other hand, when I hold negative emotions in, then like a dream image demonstrated to me once, they will lash out with violent vigor like a venomous snake to innocent bystanders. Still, I have contained much of what we have been experiencing for over ten years. That which has escaped, to my chagrin has come steaming and burning onto our children in moments of frustration and weakness, or have come pouring out in embarrassing tears and emotions unexpectedly to strangers. Our children will in no way be caught in any illusion about our circumstances and what it means to lose one’s source of income. This is not what I imagined when I envisioned having children. At that time I poured over books that instructed about the different stages of development and gave the means to meet these developmental stages in a healthy and psychologically enabling way. Like mother cat in the movie ‘Otis and Milo” I put my mind to the thought that I would not raise my voice and made other such resolutions. I held this chalice of divine intentions close to my heart, but then, sooner or later with each child in turn, I tripped and fell losing all.
I would have liked to have been the perfect parent who can keep everything normal while calamity surrounds, but I am not put together that way no matter how hard I try to keep myself in line and on track. I have joked with my eldest that she can write a “Mommy Dearest” book about me, though we both know this has not been much of a joke at those moments of outburst. Especially coming to mind was a time after the flood when I thought I was doing just fine, but then like the straw that broke the camel’s back, a confrontation broke out between my eldest daughter and me probably ignited by something far smaller than the reaction she met. I cannot even remember what it was all about. What she had really met was the force of the flood of emotions let loose from the larger event of the real flood that hit Manitoba. In my fury, I lifted a double bunk metal bed that I couldn’t budge for the life of me at any other time.
Sometimes I wish I had inherited a bit more of my father’s sense of humour. A sense of humour is certainly something that should be exercised generously if you can during hard times to help lighten the atmosphere. Watching comedies on a regular basis can help release some of the stress. I was surprised at the full-belly laughs that were elicited from me by watching a few re-runs of the Lucille Ball Comedy Hour. Actually I laughed so hard that I could hardly catch my breath and tears were running down my eyes. The children were looking at me sideways, but I am sure it was good for them to hear me really laugh for a change. There’s something to be said about good clean humour.
I do wish to emphasize again that there have been many moments of love, beauty, happiness, joy, peace, even humour, during this trying time, but from the edges, the shadow managed to ever work its way back in. This could be because in addition to what is considered high-stress level occurrences that can normally take at least two years to overcome, we, individually and as a family were affected either directly or indirectly with more periods of adversity.
Somewhat briefly they are as follows:
- the loss of my husband’s parents,
- a motor-cycle accident to my husband.
- our daughter suffered a concussion
as she was thrown from a horse.
- a very serious motor-cycle accident to my brother
- a four-wheeler accident that severely
Injured my sister (though I have to
admit, I did not know how bad this was at the time.)
- my father suffered a heart-attack
- my father’s 2nd wife passed away.
- the loss of a dearly loved pet of 12
years.
- one vehicle stolen from our yard.
- another vehicle vandalized.
- our children’s bicycles stolen twice
- both grandparents passed away
Good advice for all who may be following behind on the same path would be to ensure that you one way or another get enough rest as this seems to be an important, extremely important key to keeping your sanity and family together. (I have often stolen back my time to rest in a nice warm tub when I cannot gain the regular sleep at night due to our circumstances.) I cannot emphasize this enough that in times of stress you must get your rest so that you don’t hurt yourself or someone else, psychologically or otherwise. I have actually come to the habit of warning my children when I have not had enough sleep in the hopes that this will remind both myself and them that we need to try and curb any habits of pressing our irritations, wants or needs too harshly upon each other. Still we often falter, fight and fall from our resolutions, especially if more than one has not rested fully.
I have certainly come to much understanding of how violence can be a reaction to struggling economically. In communities and schools, there must be understanding that normal activities like housework, yard work, checking agenda books, reading and logging programs for school that in the past one may personally take the time to do, along with volunteering and baking for school, can go from a joyful experience to one of annoyance and extreme difficulty while trying to meet greater demands.
Going back a little again; during the flood, in addition to the generous support of the public through charitable organizations and the government, what helped to keep our spirits up really, was being in the company of friends and family, (along with the assistance they extended to us).
What I am leading to, is that during times of stress, it is very beneficial to make time for this company. I am sure that personally I would have fared much better during the last ten years if along with rest, I included this essential ingredient. Computer communication is not a substitute though it may be good for catching up on what one may be doing; telephone is not a bad second because of the fact that you can hear the person’s voice and much can be read and given in this regard, even the silent pauses in between, but overall personal direct contact is the most beneficial for the well-being of all concerned.
The marriage that my husband and I share has been strong and true. It began with a practice of loving and relationship building between us for at least twelve years before it was enwrapped in a wedding ceremony. The time period prior to our marriage served many lessons in working things out.
Our economic struggle seems to constantly labour at unravelling the threads of this love, family and relationship we have woven together. At times and in some places the material can feel quite thin. We continue to repair and try to add more threads weaving them daily, in simple gestures and conversation, and of course more generously at other times, though it may be hard to find those moments for rest and tenderness, especially with the world shaking at the foundation. It is important to make this time, to be like the young, let the world do what it may to allow the strengthening of bonds that will stand the tests of time.
Presently and personally, I am practicing at not focussing my energies in a negative direction any longer. I have made a conscious effort to pull back into my own resources and reclaim some things that would help to recover and rejuvenate myself so that I may better serve that which I hold dear. I realized that pushing too hard was only doing damage to both myself and our family. I needed to find balance because at the pace I was going, and denying myself, in the end it would serve only to kill me and this would in no way help to bring our family out of the quagmire and into the healthy vibrant and happy family we shared prior to our security being pulled out from under us.
The beginning of my turn around began in the Spring of 2008 with a concentrated effort to reclaim my garden that had gone to seed and weed for a decade. I cannot tell you how much it hurt to walk by this area while taking my dog for a walk, to close my eyes and tell myself that I did not have time for such ‘luxury’. I know now that this is not a luxury if one has a heart for it, but a necessity. Time must be made to stop and tend or smell the flowers, hear the birds as you do so, see a butterfly flutter by or, if you are lucky, have a hummingbird startle you—one way or another it is important to make a connection with nature.
I believe that much of the filling of our homes with inanimate stuff comes from a disconnection with the healing, rejuvenating, peaceful and also exhilarating energies and properties of nature.
It took me many long hours and weeks of hard digging, separating, organizing and arranging to rescue and transplant the hardy remnants of perennial plants that I neglected for so many years. A positive change that came out of this neglect was that where I previously had rectangular beds that a friend once joked and said resembled grave plots, I have now reformed them into a circular pattern of beds where the outer most one encompassing all is full of orange colored lilies. That summer they did not bloom and I didn’t expect that they would. They were struggling to keep alive and so put all their energy into the roots and then leaves. (I was just glad that they weren’t dying.) I kept envisioning how lovely they would look in the coming summer blooming all around the outer edge. This gave me more energy as I dug and transplanted them. When the first orange blossom began to open, I was so excited I ran indoors, got my camera and took a photograph.
My heart was happy at this bloom and so as the round of orange blossoms circle throughout my garden, I accepted this as a sign of healing for our family. At the very least, it is certainly worthwhile to take the time to sit in the hanging chair that I bought as a kind of staycation item to enjoy the view of the flowers that grow and the wildlife that comes to visit.
I am in no way Stoic or heroic, I am sure you have gathered this by now. There have been extreme moments of faltering, fury and despair that can even presently seep or explode to the surface. Never in my life except when ruled by teenage hormones have unbidden flashes of rapid ways of ending the scenario crossed upon my inner vision. At the same time, dreams continue to give their guidance and polar opposite visions. For example, I had a fairly recent dream of a women lying serenely on her back floating on a rather torrent river, yet she is unconcerned.This imagery puzzled me at first until I came to the conclusion, that though the river of life may carry and bring currents that are turbulent, one must trust and float, go with the flow, whenever possible and keep faith that all with work out for the best of all in the end.
Despite momentary negative visions, I am truly of the mind that if the spirit is willing, sooner or later, our perseverance and effort will be rewarded—that as long as we have a breath to draw, or even in the hereafter, a good heart and mind will generate positive outcomes, for one and for all. (Hopefully those who have had to live and experience the faltering moments with me, will be able to forgive my weaknesses, I pray.)
Another part of my own recovery began with turning off the radio and TV for extended periods of time, sometimes days, weeks or longer (not that I ever watched television for any length of time to begin with… occasionally while folding laundry). The silence can sometimes be disquieting, but more often it allows a peacefulness to descend that engenders thought processes to form into coherent visions that may eventually coalesce into creative solutions to problems being worked on. Negative stories projecting from the media cannot then leach or drain whatever positive energy there is for problem solving or other purposes.
Too often I feel guilty that I am not being productive. It’s ridiculous really. Somewhere it has been written that a mother automatically has a place in heaven. Who ever wrote this was wise in my opinion, along with the one who wrote, “A woman’s work is never done”. So then, why is it that I feel so guilty all the time because I don’t apparently “have a job?” … that I feel guilty when I take the time to walk my dog, especially if I linger a moment, or even an hour in time to take pictures of the beauty I see surrounding me? This even though I may never stop for coffee or lunch breaks that people “on the job” take—that I feel I am less of a person than those who are out working? Actually, I have added up a typical day of my own ‘work’ and have found that it can easily add up to a full time job, often exceeding this amount.
The most likely reason is because my domestic work does not bring an income in to alleviate our most pressing problem. Well, if a woman’s work is never done, how does one add time to do this? Thus especially when the children were young, I worked (other than domestic work) from 9:30 pm to the wee hours of the morning utilizing my creative ability to do that which I thought may draw in an income. But along with this overtime came shortness of temper and often projects started at those hours leached into the daytime robbing our children of their duly deserved attention (never to be recaptured) which was met instead with impatience. I am sorry for this. The axe that fell upon my husband also served to sever too many important moments with our children. My advise to all with children would be to take the moment to stop what you are doing and look them in the eyes and listen when they come to you. These moments are precious and no money in the world can buy them back.
Because we were quite mature when we did have children, I felt a strong desire to be there for them. I remembered what it was like when my own mother went to work, which was later on in our childhood and still I missed her even though she came home quite promptly before 6 pm. Also, because my own parents had divorced later on in my late teens, I had felt the pains of a family divided and so wished to plant and nurture a strong bond rooted by being home when our own children needed us, which proved over the years to be a full time job. I have spent at least the last two years recording, listing, logging, timing and giving myself constant self-analysis to see how and if I may manage my time better. This all in order to figure out how a full time, or even part time job outside of the home might fit in. The reality is, I can only see about a 3 to 5 hour window but that would be in replacement of much of the deeper cleaning like washing floors and cleaning windows or closets, except maybe on weekends, which makes one wonder where leisure and recouperation time may then be found. It would also end up killing any time whatsoever for creative endeavors. (It is odd how sometimes I can feel envy for the simple, yet harder lifestyle of native people who lived in teepees or igloos because the artistry of the woman’s bead and weaving work showed that they had a time for work and a time for leisure and creativity without guilt.)
Believe me, it has not been my husband who has projected this upon me. Any time that he feels he may independently support us through perhaps starting a business, he has assured me that we are in agreement that the children are best given what they need by my being here for them. Even at this stage when they are older, it has been proven to me on many occasions, that my being here at the very least, just to listen has been extremely important. Add to this that one day while trying to court the idea that perhaps I am being old-fashioned and should move out into the workforce, I practiced leaving entirely (mind completely on the goal at hand) as if I was going to a full-time job while I pursued a dream, that this is precisely when my daughter received third degree burns on her hand from cooking with oil. Further, the odd thing is that as I plugged in my phone with its depleted battery into the car charger, I thought that the children could phone their father if they couldn’t get a hold of me which indeed did happen as somehow my phone was set to silence so I did not hear when they tried calling during the emergency. I did however chance to arrive home just two minutes before my husband. I phoned him and said I could take our daughter to the hospital which I did.
A truth and fact that has been pointed out by others, is that those who stay at home do work, at least the majority does. The only difference is that domestic work does not seem to be valued and paid its due. I am grateful for the family allowance we receive from the government for our children, even though it only works out to less than a dollar per hour if one were to consider it as payment for a full day’s work. If stay at home parents were actually paid for all the titles taken on like…
Chef, Custodian, Chauffer, Development Researcher, Nutritionist, Nurse, Project Manager, Psychologist, Referee, Judge, General Manager, Ombudsmen, Gardener, Financial Advisor, Councillor, Photographer, Conservationist, Night Crew Nurse, Produce Clerk, Supervisor, Interior Designer, Seamstress, Animal Care Specialist, Food Service Specialist, Healthcare Specialist, Material Handler, Decorator Consultant, Storage Consultant, Display Coordinator, First Aid and Safety Service Manager, Loader/Unloader, Maintenance Supervisor, Cake Decorator, Educational Advisor, Math Instructor, Tutor, Teacher, Teacher Assistant, Handyman, Therapist, Delivery Driver, Dishwasher, Grill Cook, Room Attendant, Loss Prevention Specialist, Management Consultant, Artist, Crafter, Storyteller, Entertainer, Guard, Kitchen Manager, Location Manager, Team Leader, Buyer, Food and Beverages Attendant, Prep Cook, Childcare Provider, Inventory Taker, Inventory Supervisor, Receiver, Storage Custodian, Party Planner Consultant/Coordinator, Inspector, Presser…etc,
…there would be less financial woes descending upon hardworking families.
The night my husband lost his job I said to him, “Who was the idiot that thought a woman needed another job?” It’s not that I think a woman should be confined to the home, but those who do feel this position as the one they are called to most, and find their creative or social outlet through other means than a job or career, should be able to make this choice without feelings of guilt or inadequacy. Their contribution to the stability of family, home and society should be recognized and their work supported. A solution needs to be found that helps to support both positions in the raising of children, not only funds for daycare spaces for those who choose to work outside of the home, but support and funding for those choosing to raise their children full-time from their home base. In the present climate, not only are most women (and some men) doing the full time job of taking care of the children at home and domestic work, but now it seems they are expected to join the economic work force outside of the home, in addition. This does not come as news to most, and those born into the next generation are more likely to buy into this hook, line and sinker. Don’t get me wrong, I agree that women should have access and the opportunity to be educated and engage in a job or career, to be creative, to support themselves, their husbands, family and whatever vision they have in mind. This is a good thing, but I believe that we should all be supported enough that once we have children, parents will have the choice to have at least one of them stay at home to care for their children, if this is their desire. I believe it is for the good of the whole.
Interjection... of a writing I chanced upon by Eleanor Roosevelt from "The Good Housekeeping Marriage Book" makes for interesting reading upon this subject.
Eleanor Roosevelt -CHAPTER FOUR -Should Wives Work? (excerpt from gutenberg.org)
Is it possible for a woman to marry and still have a career? This question has been asked of me so many times that I am glad at last to sit down and write some of the things which always come to my mind.
To begin with, the question is foolishly worded, for there are very few women who have careers. Those with real careers are a little group by themselves needing separate consideration. Most women marry and work,and the work will not be a "career." The question put this way also seems to imply that marriage in itself is not a career. Anyone who believes that has no real understanding of marriage.
There is no general answer which any one individual can give to this question, no matter how it is worded, for it is one of those questions that depends for its answer largely upon the individuals involved, both men and women.
The question should really be phrased in this way: Are you able to carry on two full-time jobs? Have you the physical strength and the mental vigor to do this day in and day out—particularly when you are young, first married, adjusting yourself to a stranger's personality,and perhaps bearing children, which is an added physical strain?
I can hear you ask, "Why do you say, 'adjusting yourself to a stranger's personality'?" The answer is quite simple: no two people really know each other until they have been married for some time, and one of the most exacting duties of family life is the adjustment of the various personalities that make up the family circle. The mother adjusts herself not only to her husband, but to each of her children and to the other near relatives, and she tries to explain and to adjust them to one another. It is not always an easy task.
More and more house holds are being managed by the housewife alone,particularly among the young people. That means pretty nearly constant attention to household tasks, if a good job is to be done, in the same way that it would be done in an office or wherever the woman might be employed for pay. This housekeeping job can be as scientific and as engrossing as any office job, or it may be a slipshod, haphazard affair with everything at sixes and sevens. It all depends upon the woman whether she makes this side of marriage a career or not.
There is another important aspect to this career. Any woman who means to make marriage a successful career will study her husband, his capabilities, his interests, even his peculiarities. She should know about his business and about his pleasures. It is possible for her to be a great factor in his success, not by thrusting herself forward as an adviser, but by understanding so well his character and his career that she can supplement his shortcomings, bring out the best that is in him,and expand his interests by adding her own.
Thus she can have a vicarious career by virtue of what she has put into her husband's. Perhaps the woman who does this is the happiest and most successful woman, but she has to have the kind of temperament that can do it and do it well, and in addition the circumstances of married life have to make it possible. We might as well face the fact that today circumstances are making it more and more difficult for a woman to lead what two generations ago was considered the normal and natural life for any woman. In those days even a woman who did not marry tried to find a niche that she could fill in somebody's home. A maiden aunt or cousin often took the place of a nurse or governess or even a hired servant and was looked upon with pity, and expected to work early and late for her room and board, and to be as devoted to the children of the family as though they were her own.
Women today would not accept this situation so calmly, and the fact that they can be and are largely self-supporting changes their economic condition. It also changes their relationship to men and marriage.
The economic situation is such today that few young people can marry at the age when their grandparents did. Many young people, rather than put off their marriage indefinitely, get married with the realization that both of them will have to continue working and that children are out of the question until they have laid enough money aside or the man has had enough increase in salary to take care of all the family expenses.
This is not a case of whether you prefer marriage or a career. It is a case of marriage and work together, or no marriage and work alone. Work must go on in either case. For most women there is something so satisfying in creating a home that they do it frequently by themselves.It seems to fulfill a deep inner need to do the little homely things of everyday living, and I think that is one reason why so many young people get married and set up homes of their own long before their financial resources warrant it.
If they want to have children as soon as they are financially established, they usually do so, but a craving for a home of her own is the first stirring of maturity in a woman. To many women, however, a home is not wholly satisfying unless she is making it for someone else,and nature has made most women yearn for a man to mother.
I know one young couple who were married when the boy was getting twenty-five dollars a week and the girl was getting the same as a stenographer. Both of them went on working. Everything seemed to be going very well, and she managed her two jobs quite successfully. The most successful part of it was the fact that she induced her husband to feel an equal responsibility for the house. I remember that when I dined with them, he put on an apron after dinner and helped wash the dishes as naturally as if that were the normal occupation for a man. When a marriage works out this way, it is very successful, especially if the man has a knack for doing things about the house, because it keeps him busy when his wife is busy.
Children can be postponed if two young people have a home and a mate. If a woman has to work to have a home and husband, she will do it happily,but I do not think that always means that she longs to work. It is unfortunate that so often she is forced to for material security.
Where circumstances verge on poverty, marriage is even more of a career, for then more depends on the woman's ability to manage. Of course, when it comes to the mothers of families who work in mills, factories, and stores, we know quite well that there is no question of choice—poverty drives them, and they work because they have to, and only a few would hesitate if they were offered an opportunity to stay at home and look after their home and their children.
I remember visiting a mill town once, and as the women came off the night shift—for there were no laws at that time in that particular state against women's working on night shifts—they met their husbands going to work on the day shift. We followed one woman home. Tired from the hours in the mill, she nevertheless had to set to work immediately to get the children fed and off to school. Then she had her house to set to rights, washing and ironing to do, and dinner to get for the children and supper to be left for the man when he came back from work as she went on. In the afternoon she snatched a few hours of sleep, and the children who were not in school played unwatched and uncared for. She knew that her home life was not satisfactory, and she did not work long hours in the mill because she wanted to, but simply because there was not enough food to go around unless her earnings supplemented those other husband.
There are women, however, who work for the love of working. They may love their homes and their children and still crave the satisfaction of doing a job themselves. Sometimes it is just because they love the kind of work they do; sometimes it is because they must have the independence which being able to earn money gives them.
I know one young woman who has managed to develop for herself work which she can do in her own home. She feels that her children need her at home, and yet she was very unhappy without some outside interests. She had a musical talent which she shared with her husband, and together they developed a unique project which involved research and execution, giving them a joint interest and allowing her to earn a little extra money.[
Very occasionally it is possible for a man and a woman to work together and to have an even closer tie than they would have if the woman remained the man's helpmate only in the home.
The happiness of husband and wife is often wrecked by too little dependence on each other, for to be happy two people must need each other in everything they do. I could tell you many stories of young people who have drifted apart partly because the man was too absorbed by his business and the woman did not have enough to do. One story I remember, however, is a little different, because it was a case in which both the man and his wife had interests which were so divergent that neither of them took any pleasure in being with the other or in hearing about what the other was doing. The man wanted to lead a rather quiet life, and the woman was young and pretty, active-minded, physically energetic. She wanted to do something which would bring in money and make it possible for her to have some of the luxuries and pleasures that she coveted and to which her husband was completely indifferent. They stuck to their own interests, and while they lived in the same house and while they had children and while they were never separated in a formal way, they could not have been further apart if they had lived at the two poles. I question if the children ever knew what it was to feel a community of interests in that home.
It would be well if men realized the need that some women have for a little financial independence. Occasionally marriage is wrecked because the woman feels that her work at home is as much a financial contribution as is the man's work out in the world. She finds no recognition of this in their relationship or in their environment and becomes more and more restless and dissatisfied.
I remember one woman saying rather bitterly to me once that she made more money by saving and good management than her husband did, but that he seemed to think the generosity of giving was all on his side,forgetting that she gave her strength and her time. The work which she did she might have paid someone else to do; and her careful buying actually put in the bank money which her husband could use in his business.
As a rule, the woman spends the major part of the family income, but if it is given her for the house and she has to resort to subterfuge to get any personal pocket money out of it, it is not a happy arrangement. Of course, when two people are planning together every penny of expenditure, the case is different; but when a man has any money which he calls his own, a woman should have some also in recognition of the services she performs for the home. She is more apt to make her housekeeping a good job and to be happy in her family relations.
In many cases a woman who holds a job feels that she is a better companion for her husband because she has more individuality and comes to him more full of different interests when they meet. She may not have the kind of temperament which makes it possible for her to bring up her children herself. She may find that even with less time to give them,she can really do more for them. All these things are subjects for the individuals to consider and decide together.
"Why do you work?" I once asked a friend of mine who seemed very weary.
She smiled and said: "I work because I found that when Stephen came home at night, I had nothing to talk to him about. He is out in the world and meets people and does things. I was in a little backwater and lost the habit of thinking about the same things that are on his mind. I had to go back to work to regain the same atmosphere and to be a companion."
"But," I said, "you have to pay some one to take care of the children."Wouldn't it be cheaper to do it yourself?"
"Far cheaper," she said, "but even the children are better off. Now,when I come home, I am full of interests I can share with them, and I am nowhere nearly so impatient as I used to be when I answered their questions all day long and directed every minute of their lives. I do not mind now saying, 'Johnny, wash your hands,' or, 'Sara, don't bite when you fight.' I have to do it only between 6 and 8 p.m. But if I do it from 6 a.m. until 8 p.m., many a harsh word is spoken, and many a hasty gesture passes between us, much to my regret afterward."
One thing is certain: Any woman who decides to work after she is married must have good health and be a fairly well-disciplined person, and her life must be systematized so that one part does not interfere with the other, and the man must understand and sympathize with her interests and desires.
The man's temperament is as important as the woman's, for there are men who deeply resent their wives' doing any work and who want to feel that their home is entirely dependent on their own efforts. There are other men who go even beyond that and want to feel that the woman whom they have married is dependent upon them for all she has in a material way,forgetting often that their mental and spiritual contacts count also in any relationship. Then again there are men who, if their wives are self-sufficient and capable, will do exactly what so many women are accused of doing—become parasites and willingly allow themselves to be taken care of in every way, even in a material way.
I knew one man whose wife mothered him until he completely lost his initiative. He was sweet to her, but he really felt that life was made by her and he had to make no effort. Suddenly he met a woman who was weaker and more clinging than he was, and she awakened in him all his dormant chivalrous instincts. He asked his wife for a divorce. He married the weaker woman and became a strong man. The first wife remade her life, which was not astonishing; but he remade his, which seemed unbelievable.
All the things I have mentioned and one more enter into this question of whether a woman who has the ability to do a job outside the home should do it or not. In the last few years I have been getting many letters from women whose husbands have fallen ill or died and left them alone or with dependents. Those who have had no training are the most pathetic,but those who once worked and then gave up altogether are in almost as difficult a position.
I doubt that it is ever wise for a woman who has once had a skill to allow herself to lose it entirely, for, granting that she makes of marriage a career, there may come a time when she will need work, and there will certainly come a time when her children are grown. If the demands on her time are fewer and she is well, she may feel the necessity of taking up some kind of regular work again, particularly if in her youth she was trained to keep busy. This may not be a financial necessity, but merely something to take the place of the duties which were hers when marriage was her only job.
In my own experience I have found there is one other thing that may happen to a woman. For some reason she may have to interest herself in things that have seemed to be more directly her husband's interests and in which she never expected to take any personal part. She may find she becomes interested for a variety of reasons. This necessity of developing interests of her own which take her out of her home will find her better equipped if she has once done a job for pay and kept on doing it now and then throughout her life so that she is able to maintain a professional attitude toward all work, both in her home and out of it.
There are just a few women who have special gifts, who have established careers before they meet the men they wish to marry. If they give up these careers, they may find much of the savor of life is removed when they are not doing something which requires independent thought and initiative. These are the women who go to work because they are conscious of a capacity within themselves which cannot be denied, and they should marry only men who understand this and are willing to make some compromises. It can be done very happily, but it depends on both the man and the woman in each case. These "career" women do a job for the love of it. They may be so gifted that they can cope successfully with household affairs from the administrative point of view. They may not be interested in doing any of the homely things of life. They may be quite helpless at home and need someone else to cope with household measures. For them it is probably impossible to settle down to a homemaker's career and watch over somebody else's career and development and achievement. They are fortunate if they marry the right men!
The women who I feel should undoubtedly have outside occupation,however, are the women whose homes are taken care of by competent hands and feet other than their own, who with ordinary capacity for management can give the necessary orders in fifteen minutes every morning and have the rest of the day in which to do nothing. These women might as well do something even if they have no special gifts, for as idlers they encumber the earth. They are not doing things at home that keep women busy and happy.
I think any young couple is fortunate when the woman has to do everything about the house and does it happily, but in view of all the different angles that this problem presents, I would give no advice,only urge young people to think over what they want out of life very carefully when they are making the decision of how they will start their life together.
End of Writing by Eleanor Roosevelt
I had quit my jobs in the workforce before we had children. Being of an artistic nature, the positions I had held, (minus sign writing) allowed no room for creativity. My spirit felt like it was dying. I took a chance and quit them all, believing that I could follow my heart and talent. However, even then for a period of time, a job was needed and so I landed work while being 7 months pregnant. It was a wonderful place to work with generous hearted and cheerful people. Had I not immediately grown adamantly attached to my first born, I most likely would have returned to this work place. The difference here for me was that these people were engaged in a goal to benefit all as their core criteria for coming together and working. It was worth the time to be there.
Over the years in order to try and balance home-life with a parallel requirement for income, I applied my natural talents to many creative and artistic directions that would hopefully take flight and bring in a regular income to supplement that which was brought home by my husband. (Though at this time when our first daughter was born, the pressure to enlist in the work force was not as adamant.)
The first solution I gathered came through inspiration in a dream of visiting the basement of a man’s house and finding it full of paper mache sculptures. (A basement can represent the subconscious) Long after I had forgotten about the dream, I made a couple of paper mache masks for a Halloween party. This led me to making around 100 more and also making my own paper for them.
I thought that this making of masks would be the key because it seemed to work out perfectly even with a wee one. In fact, there were times when I heard our baby stirring, but silently thought ‘wait just a moment or two longer, I’m almost finished’. It seemed as though she heard me as she didn’t squeak until my hands were washed up and I was done. My first showing of the masks in a gallery was successful in that nine pieces over a one month period were sold.
Upon our move to the country the marketing of the masks with only one further showing at a local fair fell by the wayside as we were caught up in life and the Flood of the Century. Following that time I began inadvertently gaining computer skills that served both practical and artistic purposes, such as photograph restoration and digital art.
Many times I have felt that what I have done digitally is not really art, even though it can take equally long, drawing from the same creative intuition and technical skill that is now being transferred through a digital tool instead of a paintbrush. This feeling is because, like creating advertising art, when approaching the creation of art under financial stress, it makes it more difficult to allow inspiration to work to the fullest when you feel you should be doing something guaranteed to generate income. I find this chokes off the creative flow. Sometimes I feel strongly that if I could only allow myself real freedom to create without guilt, that this would serve generously towards artworks being created that could naturally bring in the amount of income we require to pull out of debt.
With trying to find a means to make a living from home, I have spent countless, and I mean countless hours on the computer. So much so, that I had gained 30-35 pounds—I’ve regularly cut off the circulation in my legs and locked my hip so I had difficulty getting out of the chair. Too often I engage in poor back and neck posture that also causes an ache in my shoulder that somehow cuts off the circulation to my arm and hand. There seems to be some alleviation through bigger movement when I do house cleaning or work in the garden. This revelation came by a psychic blow delivered by three little words that knocked me off my center and sent me on a backward tumble through my house for a period of six months while I re-organized the house and re-evaluated everything.
The three little words were delivered so softly like a whisper oN the wind, that I am not even sure if in fact they were actually said. Perhaps they were self-projected from my sub-conscious, my own feelings of guilt. Either way, the words were delivered to me and hit the heart of my soul deeper than I could’ve known they would, as they struck at all I endeavored to do to alleviate our situation.
The three little words were...
- That’s not work. -
I know they needed to said as much as I needed to hear them as I ignored these same words, echoing ad infinitum throughout the ages, and yet continued in my own direction—that this is likely the reason I am having such a difficult time in making a living at what my soul and make-up call me to do. However, the words went through me and triggered a break down that was already on its way with occasional little leaks from tears here and there.
This breakdown became apparent especially in the beginning of a six month period. I found myself crying in front of innocent strangers that I had planned to have a normal conversation with to see if business could be started or exchanged and instead ended up spilling out parts of our story in tears, and becoming incoherent. I felt entirely deflated, with no appetite or interest in anything, I could not concentrate but went through the motions of regular responsibilities… ...but then, once again I shakily got back up on my legs and I began the reclamation and regeneration of myself. First I created the kind of work of art that I had always shied away from, remember, I didn’t want to bleed on people. But I thought that I must, because it truly is one process to healing especially if you cannot or do not have the energy to talk to anyone as the feelings are far beyond any words that can convey the depth of them.
It has angered me in the past that this is the only kind of art that a lot of people will pay attention to, that which comes out of the soul from being wounded. I guess this is part of human nature to have morbid fascination like looking at the remains of an accident, or, perhaps it truly is a genuine draw in humankind for self-understanding. However that may be, part of me now thought it was time to bleed, not only to get it out in order to heal, but also and especially if it gave understanding so that this wound would not be inflicted on another, then it would serve a larger purpose.
Now, though the desire to nourish my body had fallen substantially (this from one who is usually very health conscious), I began a regime to reclaim and regenerate. I consciously turned back and took the time I needed to clean and thoroughly organize our home. I went in turn to each place that had been ignored because of the dilemma we were facing. These places encompassed at least 10 years of neglect for the deep cleaning and organization that they needed. I had actually on many occasions wondered how I was going to deal with all that accumulation and disorganization once I did get going.
I understand how a house can been likened to the body. I know that when I clean our home, that not only is it better for everyone else, but it helps me to think, while I’m cleaning and long after when I am in a creative mode. I find it difficult to create in the midst of chaos.
Now if a house can be likened to the body, then we have been experiencing trouble with the vital organs…
- both our washer and dryer ceased on more than one occasion and needed repair
- the heating system of our house has needed repair at least twice
- our water heater is only flying at half mast
- we had to replace our refridgerator
- our oven has been replaced twice
as it was not functioning properly
- our stovetop needs all new elements
- the dishwasher dirties the dishes more than it cleans them
- the vacuum beater recently ceased functioning, which irritates me as it cost over $100 dollars to replace it just a few years ago.
(Along this line, II wonder what it might mean metaphorically to always have air leaking from one front tire on a vehicle.)
This all seems to follow Murphy’s Law because while we were financially fluid, we didn’t seem to have even a third of these household troubles.
Once my appetite began to recover, I decided to view the depression kick-start weight loss program as a positive thing because I really did not like the weight that I had gained while working so long at the computer. What started out as not being able to eat, worked into measured smaller portions of food, with fruit and tea to supplement hunger pangs in between regular meals. The focus now is to find the perfect portion to maintain weight rather than a continual loss.
I have chosen to view the three little words as three little pinches—three little pinches to the garden of my being that will now allow me to become even stronger in the growth of my ability to create, bloom, and cast seeds in every direction that others too may grow and bloom in their own capacity to be healthy and creative.
At first, like any plant, I felt like I was dying and so pulled my resources down to the roots and then began to bring all that makes me alive back up again. I may not be perfect but I am still trying to keep to the integrity of my being, hopefully not to the chagrin of myself or others this time, as I continue on what I feel is my road, our road, to destiny. It is my hope that this breaking down will now allow a clearing away of that which is not useful, so that there is a foundation upon which to build something up this time that will prove to be structurally sound.
I hold no blame to the perception of others; from the outside it can appear that I am motionless while my husband is steady with bringing in an income and the assistance he needs, a steady flow to top up his own efforts is only being matched by my little spurts and splashes. In a world where the majority of marriages have two bringing in an income, it can be frustrating in their collective belief that I am not doing my part. I look inward time and again at myself to test the integrity of my purpose in pursuing the vision within my mind, body and soul.
The thought is, that most of what I do, in the end, can work for us. For example, a print that is sold with at least a profit over cost of say $25 dollars—would be worth at least 1 ½ hours wage of a minimum paying job, and, that print can bring in this wage over and over again even long after I am gone.
Before the flood I carried the same opinion as most—that art was a luxury, not a necessity. My interpretation was just a little different; it wasn’t about buying art, but making it. So when responsibility called, which was most of the time, the making of art was to be put aside. But then following the flood I learned this creative form of expression was vitally important. It was an important element in the balance of work and play, regeneration and healing—this, along with long walks in nature was how I kept my sanity, especially since responsibilities did not seem to permit time for friends or even extended family.
The art form I have been focusing on is photography and working with those photographs, often turning them into entirely different creations than the original. At first this was begun to appease those who do not consider photography an art, but now it is usually because this is a unlimited creative, artistic and visually rewarding endeavor. So it is understandable that I also fell into an awful depression when my camera went out of commission and there seemed no hope for its recovery.
I realized then that the taking of photographs served as a means to stop energy-draining thoughts for a moment while I literally focused on beauty. (I am very grateful to all who worked to fix and bring this gift from my husband back to me.)
When I have asked galleries and other photographers whether they are successful at selling their work, it was a very few who could give an affirmative answer. Most often, the answer was that the public did not consider photography a work of art, that these images could easily have been taken by them. Perhaps this could very well be so, on occasion and more often with practice—however, do they have the dedication to this practice to produce photographic work that clearly demonstrates they have the technical skill, insight and intuition to consistently turn out a body of work that reflects their practice of this art?
In response to the attitude that photography was not work or art, I had written a poem one day as follows:
Do you feel compelledat the break of day
to get up to seethe dawn’s display
and when it comes to the setting sun
do you find yourself
going at a run
with camera in hand
and heart a’thumpin
on the ground
your legs are pumping
‘cause you don’t want to miss
a single ray
that illuminates within it
the treasures of the day?
Then you must be a photographer.
Were you there
at that particular time
when the light is just
perfectly sublime
upon the flower
or dew-dropped web
when most were still
sleeping in their bed?
Were you the one
in tempest weather
when all kept inside
knowing better
because you thought y
ou just might see
the world encapsulated
as if in a dream?
Then you must be a photographer.
Did you push down
to a bug’s eye view
tip-toe lightly
as you do
with eyes a’scanning
all around
seeking wonders
on the ground
then cramp up
from crouching too long
to catch that dragonfly
before it’s gone
and when it’s finally
in your view
you keep on clicking
coming closer as you do
until you have shot
the perfect one
or it got tired of you
and has flown
way too far
to give chase
as your eyes have now
lost its place?
Then you must be a photographer.
Have you lost feeling
in your fingers and toes
stood stock still focusing
with a drip on your nose
found you’ve wandered
a little too far
in the woods
momentarily losing your car?
Been in a sunflower field
checking flowers
faint from hunger
‘cause you’ve been there
for hours
ignoring bodily discomfiture
to catch just the right picture?
Then you must be a photographer.
Do you settle for what you’ve got
within the imprint
from camera caught
or on the computer
do you toil
to bring the image
out with style
to match the moment
felt within your soul
when nature touched
your heart like gold
cropping, lighting,
sharpness, blur
contrast, hue,
tweak colour,
blend out, bring in,
don’t do too much
hours could be spent
on just one touch.
Do you continue
tho’it may cripple your arm
because you’ve been
on the computer too long?
Then you must be an artist
and photographer.
In regard to whether art is work or not, I would like to draw attention to my own way of thinking with photography. Though I may have captured a significant moment and that which it entails perfectly with all of the technical aspects of photography… light, focus, shutter speed, depth of field, placing that which I have captured within the most aesthetically pleasing area within the frame—this being a complete work in itself—from my perspective, this is only the beginning. It is when I continue to work with that photograph to draw out the soul of the image through computer digital tools (by the way, this means in my case that there is a pencil-like object within my hand that I use as such), software filters and applications, that can sometimes take literally hours at times, especially if I entirely change and incorporate other images, that I consider the real work being done. This is because this kind of work requires of me to draw on my artistic intuition and personal touch to create the final piece.
Therefore when people view this image, and think or say that it is not work or art, it is then that feelings of misunderstanding or hurt can take place.
In the long run though, the question whether it is work is really mute in my own personal case, because most of it is often created in my free time (including the building of websites) after a full day of domestic work. I should therefore not have to debate whether it is work or not. Certainly one could argue that this way of spending my time is far better than many hours wasted in front of a television or similar idle occupation.
I think my significant other may be losing faith in me, and that it was I who first planted this seed of doubt into him around my 50th birthday. As this momentous half-a-century mark approached I worked harder and harder to try and compile that which I thought worth showing and envisioned a celebration that would not only celebrate my birthday, but could also be a reunion of friends and family. In fact it could be a triple or more themed affair… to include the graduation of our eldest daughter who earned a Merit Laureate Diploma, a friend & family reunion, our upcoming 20th Wedding Anniversary and my birthday. All could be rolled into one big celebration. (I thought I could also honour a request from newly discovered and long lost relatives to supply needed information, and in turn, share with those attending what I had been discovering about a most intriguing family history).
I had incorporated at least one picture of everyone of whom I had a photograph of into a fun imaging service I offer. I placed their image in various prints made from the Victorian era, 16th century paintings, or classic black and whites like movie star photographs so that their image looked to be the original one photographed or painted. Some were so perfect or hilarious especially if this suited or was in direct contrast with their personality, that I couldn’t help myself from laughing out loud with certain ones. It was a bit of comic relief in trying times. While I created these I thought of how I would tell them that this is the way I have fun with my friends and family when I cannot actually see them. I kept imagining how they would enjoy these creations. I imagined them laughing and thought of how much fun and most enjoyable it would be to see everyone again. Now you don’t know this, but most of the time I discourage birthday celebrations for myself, but I do enjoy a good party and realized that I had been isolated for the most part far too long while trying to help work out our situation. I imagined this as the final turning point, the halfway mark to my 100th birthday that I’ve always thought of as my goal if I am allowed to live that long. This would be the perfect time to finally launch everything in the hopes that something would catch, to help us financially and also to honour the desire to return the favour to my husband, to succeed well enough so that he too could have a turn at following his heart. But then as my birthday approached and I could see that I was not going to be able to meet this deadline, I wished no celebration.
Though many may be frustrated with me, from my perspective, it always comes back to the balance of home, wellbeing of family and the return for time, skill and energy given. (The return is not always monetary in regard to wellbeing. There is also the fact to consider that for the last number of years my day has been broken up with driving my eldest child back and forth to school or college at varying times for one reason or another. This makes obtaining a regular job difficult) With a part-time minimum wage paying job, at the end of the day, the amount I would bring home would probably only serve to pay for the fuel to get there and back, plus the baking and pre-made meals I would now have to buy because I wouldn’t have the time to personally do that any more.
It is my thought that this would only serve to diminish our standard of living further, with little left over to do much good except the fact that everyone would be relieved that I finally jumped on the treadmill with them. With a full time minimum or average paying job, this may help to pay some of the bills, or even maintain them, but then there is no hope of ever paying off our debt until our last breaths are taken if we are lucky to live that long. I can’t help but think that with the creative talent that I have practiced since I was at least five years old, that it couldn’t be better applied and valued in return with decent wage earnings befitting the years poured into that practice.
I will add a filling of positive here to sandwich between this course of negative, like life has done for us.
Our eldest daughter has received generous grants and scholarships to further her education that will go a long way in helping her to fulfill her dreams for the future. We are proud and glad that all of her hard work to gain extra credit has earned her the Merit Laureate Diploma mentioned previously. We are grateful for this assistance she has received from the government, generous-hearted people and organizations that extend to helping others. We are also grateful that this assistance is serving to help in a place we would gladly have contributed to if we were in a better position to do so.
To acquire this better position, over the years I have participated in craft sales but found that most people were looking for small things and so the average amount of $40 profit per day was not worth the time that could better be spent creating. Even more so now, as lenders of the tables have in most cases doubled the price and expect crafters and artisans to be there from morning till night, plus they expect valuable donations to be made of items made for their fundraising efforts.
I’ve also applied to the Winnipeg Folk Festival, but was declined on the basis that “I had too much variety”. This was just as well because my attendance to this event was the one time of year that I allowed myself complete freedom from worry and care; that is until the last three years when I did try and move into perhaps making it an opportunity to make connections through my photography.
That was alright because I do absolutely love to take photographs and it was fun to be able to talk to the most interesting in my opinion of the people. This was much better than paying the price of the display booths which have increased quite substantially over the years. Also where once they gave freely a weekend pass so that you could have a helper and a bit of a break if need be, now they expect you to buy this pass for your helper. Quite ridiculous when you think about it—why would you pay full price for a pass just to work!
For awhile I had opened up a shop in a nearby town, investing all monthly income coming to me to try and generate business and deliver art classes, but people did not seem know that I was there (even with going door to door and leaving an announcement of the opening at each house, streamers, bulletins posted, etc.) When I also found that the town people did not seem to notice that I was there about ten months later even during their local fair, with bubbles blowing from the doorway to try and catch their attention, I decided it was time to close shop.
During this same period I was giving lunch hour art and craft classes within the school (and had previously done the same in a nearby community though it was an after school program). However once my vehicle was stolen, I decided to close this project because again, the preparation time, materials and transportation costs cut so much into the funds that were generated that it worked out I was only making about $3.25 cents per hour.
Periodically from home I did graphic design work for a good friend of my husband, who worked for a company from Japan, and then China. But they then decided to have their own employees do the work in-house.
Prior to the New Year I worked diligently to create twelve faerie images in the style of photograph manipulation where I superimposed my nature photography onto other photographs of people, making numerous changes and adjustments to create a work of art.
The initial investment to have them printed proved beyond my means. To print them individually and purchase them along with the shipping cost from elsewhere raised the price too high, especially if one were trying to compete with over-sized calendars that can be bought sometimes for next to nothing. (Since the time of this writing, an arrangement has been made that I may purchase them individually, however the price is still not competitive, but is reasonable if one wishes to purchase an original calendar.)
A lead was given that if I could learn the program called Flash, I could earn a substantial wage designing animated interfaces for Blackberry through a contact they knew. I spent my time reading from morning to night for approximately a week to learn this program. I then watched a a 22 hour video on the same subject. This was all for naught, no substantial work followed.
Periodically, more like every decade or so, I turn to the Arts Community to see if I can garnish some support, but never seem to fit their criteria. (Except perhaps being included within a flyer that goes out to the schools for a program called Artists in the Schools. I will pursue this again in the future.)
I found with most galleries that a membership fee and time was required to display one’s work. In return for this, you may be reserved room for just a few pictures or a minimal amount of space. One gallery I inquired expected artists to spend up to a thousand dollars to invite, and wine and dine guests to view work. (Since the time of this writing, I have been recommended to a gallery called The Edge that seems quite reasonable in their expectations and what they have to offer. I will pursue them in the future also.)
At one point I did chance upon a generous gallery in Steinbach, called Presenting Art that freely allowed me to show my work for a few months.
That is when I realized that I needed a better way of displaying jewellery because it took me hours just to set it up, along with the rest of the display. I thought of building a gypsy-style wagon, designed it and gave the plans to my father who I believe began to build it, but when I didn’t press further he probably got carried away with his own numerous projects always on the go.
Further research in this area made me realize that I could not afford the licenses it would take to pursue this direction. I laughed out loud long ago when while we lived in the city I heard on CBC radio that Winnipeg was planning to build on a historical site, and to ease the idea in, said they were keeping with the integrity of the original use of the land as a meeting place for people, artisans and crafters. I knew that in reality this would not extend to me and this has proven to be correct. I cannot afford the $50 dollars a day and more in the summer (not including the $15-20 dollars worth of gas to get there) to set up a booth. Even if I could, the commitment required to be there while they are open, up to a twelve hour day is not something I can spare. You can set up with others, but with the average 40-60% commission that most want, this makes it hard to sell things because you then have to put the price up beyond what the average person is willing to spend.
It is frustrating to see so many buildings empty that could be utilized to help people share what they are capable of so needs can be met. When one is starting from ground zero, that means they have not the money to proceed, loading more debt through a loan onto their backs as a form of help only serves to enlarge and darken the shadow hanging over them in my opinion. I do understand that money usually represents the sweat off of someone else’s back through their labor and those that have the power to lend this money expect it to be returned. I agree that labor should be returned for labor. Money borrowed should be paid back. I just do not believe in the practice of charging interest. When I am truly trying to assist someone, I do not charge them interest. I only expect to receive what I lent them. It wouldn’t feel right in my heart to receive more than that, unless it was in their heart to do so because my assistance helped them to succeed abundantly and they wish to share of their prosperity—though again, I would prefer that this abundance be returned in the form of a personal gift, thus building friendship.
It is aggravating that one cannot share freely upon common ground, especially of that to which one is born—that I cannot simply take my wares and set up to be seen by the public without someone else digging into my pocket before I’ve even received a dime. There is something to be said about a time or place where people can come together without charge to exchange their goods.
This has all brought me back home to where once again I think about how I may make a living right here from where we live, to try to narrow things down to one passion, one thing that I can focus on. I thought perhaps I was being a Jack-of-All-Trades and a master of none. Then, because I could not seem to put my camera down, I thought this must be the key. As the format is digital I cannot resist working with many of the images to create art, so there is a real chance of selling prints where people are reluctant to consider photography as an art form. For years I have created and reworked websites and will probably do so again (I just bought a program in this regard), to display this work. Though it may seem a good idea, I am finding that people respond better to having the actual print in front of them so they can immediately make a purchase to bring it home. Still I will continue, as so far, it is something I can afford and at least people may see what I am capable of online.
To add a practical side to photography and images, I have gained exceptional skill in the art of photograph restoration, believing that many other families value the memories preserved in photographs.
I have made and thought of presenting slideshows of my nature photography to seniors in the winter when they cannot get out so easily so that they might share in the beauty, it could be rounded off with a little of my work, to promote and perhaps receive interest. A projector, screen and laptop would be needed for this. A small fee would probably need to be charged to at least cover the cost of fuel. I joined our local genealogy society and built a family history website to share family photographs, but to also try and generate interest in the photograph restoration and imaging services that I offer.
Sometimes I feel that the only ones succeeding in this world are the people in the middle while they draw in money from a person’s dreams—but that the people with the dreams are not supported long enough or with the right kind or amount of kindle and fuel they need for the dream to ignite and grow on its own.
Some people would come to believe that our strife is a way to prove that we are far away from God’s will. Well perhaps going south when I was intuited to go north might serve to prove the point in combination with the decade and more of events that followed—personally though I think if God can move both Heaven and Earth, then at the very least the will of God can find us even in our southerly direction though it may take a bit of rearranging and new drafting to the original floor plan. This serves to give me hope to be patient a while longer, though my heart races as I see possible doors to the future close.
Because of the barriers I have faced in what I have been trying to accomplish, the idea of sharing profit with other mothers who may also wish to work from the home began to grow.
But how to go about this could prove to be intricate—perhaps home parties, say with a scrapbooking theme, a Victorian tea party theme, any theme really because I could combine images into a print of anything they wished to imagine (within reason, I do have moral integrity). It could be quite fun, a welcome coming together after being isolated for so long. I could arrive as a guest to show my work and to inspire their imagination.
Gift baskets could be made for new mothers, because of my love of placing images of babies or children within a flower, fairy tale, or any real or imaginary scene. Added to this could be children’s story books and CD’s once I have completed these, along with magnetic cutout dolls and more. The plan could be even simpler, just a membership and by joining they could order prints or commission me. For orders they’ve collected from their friends, family and others, they would then receive a monthly rebate in return.
Irritation with fundraisers that send our children door to door to strangers caused me to come up with a plan for an in-house school fundraiser that could be quite as simple as my coming into the school as a PHd., PHOTOdoctor, or a more elaborate affair could be chosen. I have three ideas in total and have created a market research form to inquire of the schools what they think of the idea, but at present I have found it difficult to locate valid email addresses to even ask permission to proceed.
Now you may think that I have finally managed to find one thing to focus on, but the truth is this focus is literally crippling my body and so, it must be balanced with bigger movement. That is the reason I have been courting the idea of adding an equal love and interest in the form of nature. It has been a lifetime affair. I will share below a biographical bit I wrote to include on my websites.
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From the moment I could walk, barefoot, more often than not, a connection and love of nature grew year after year and through all seasons as I explored the woods surrounding our home in the country.
In recent years, this love has grown to concern over the health of our planet and in turn, to the future of our children. The seed of this consciousness began in the 60’s with the slogan, “Don’t be a litter-bug”, which was followed by jaunty yellow orbs (with a ‘litter bug’ painted on them) where one may dispose of their trash. Within magazines, pictures of children and their mothers who lived on the other side of the world were shown wearing gas masks because of the poor air quality from pollution and this inevitably made a great impact on my young mind.
So it is not a wonder that when I became a adult that I joined Green Peace, International Fund for Animal Welfare, Manitoba Fort Whyte Nature Center, an Organic Food Cooperative, and subscribed to Organic Gardening and Mother Earth News magazines.
Further down the road, I wrote and presented to schools an interactive story with the intention of stirring the minds of school children into that same environmental awareness that I first experienced as a child. Along with this came an A to Z guide with suggestions on how we may individually make a difference by our actions and the choices we make.
Also, approximately 20 years ago prior to an election in Canada, the political leaders of that time inquired of the public through a mail survey what our top concerns were. They gave a list with boxes beside each item where we could place a number to show our highest to lowest priority. I will note here, as I did then, their omission and my addition of a concern for the environment because without a healthy planet, we could not have a healthy economy as we need (at the very least) the sustainability of the planet in order to survive and produce that robust economy. In addition to this note, I have written letters to the government and local newspaper over the years on various environmental concerns.
Times have been tough lately and I can certainly relate to the putting of the economy at the top of the list, however, I think it should come hand in hand with a regard to the environment. I believe that it is because of our negligence in proper custodianship of the earth that we are now heavy contributors to the accelerated extinctions and more frequently experienced climatic imbalances.
On the positive side, it is heartening that so many individuals and groups are becoming aware and wanting to do their part, myself included. Personally while trying to overcome an economic drought of the last decade due to a natural disaster and corporate downsizing, I have applied myself to gaining skills with digital tools and camera to produce works that I hope with serve both my personal and worldly concerns.
As written before, in so many words… we are each like a drop of water, our part may seem small, but if we put our hearts and minds together, we can gain hope and take action to create a puddle, a stream, and a river of ideas that can flow into an ocean of possibilities to push forward a positive future.
May it be so!
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Recently, I have been approaching this nagging voice to ‘work’ another way, because as I’ve said before…
…I think that it would be nice to see my creative endeavors be successful so that the favor of freedom for my husband to follow his heart’s desire could be returned.
…To keep my heart from not crying out so loudly every time I see another area of wildlife mowed or bulldozed over, I would like to be able to afford to make prints of my work and show them with a good portion of the profits going back to nature.
… Besides sharing my creativity and talent to benefit stay-at-home Moms, through a sharing of the profit, I would like to extend another portion to women and children who are marginalized. This could be accomplished by giving to a charitable organization dedicated to this cause.
… I would like to create and give classes to women, drawing from dreams, story and myth that inspire art and craft works that can help to heal emotions, in turn, themselves. To this I would probably add taking long walks in nature, and perhaps for the fun of it, archery.
…I would like to educate children and adults with what knowledge I possess about the benefits of nature, for example, identifying plants and their uses.
While compiling these writings, I came across something I saved a while back that now seems appropriate to insert here—
“A human being is part of a whole, called by us the “Universe,” a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings, as something separated from the rest--a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circles of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.”
Albert Einstein
My father was right when he said quite some time ago that it wouldn’t be surprising if I were to try and save the world. He feared that I might do so because I may then kill myself in the process as I would give it my all. There is much truth to this, but I do know that I also desire to be here for my family and friends and so I must keep a portion in reserve for this purpose. What I have also learned is that it is better to try and contribute what you can when you feel strongly about an issue otherwise it can be equally draining to you as you fume in anger over injustices that you may not have any power or control over. We can’t always fix what has been wronged, but we can try and invest for a better future by assisting others and giving to those coming together in joined forces towards a common goal.
I’m beginning to see a pattern in my life, which begins with a dream, a spark of inspiration and then I dive right in.
In our turning in the southeastern direction, as mentioned before, it has felt like we have been pushing against a current of ill fateful events that threaten to tear apart our family and drown us all in debt.
But wait, there is hope. I had decided I would make due with the direction we are in, because we cannot really uproot our children now that they have strong ties with good friends in their school. So I began a new photography mission with my camera around town and the natural wildlife areas nearby. I began taking pictures of every different kind of plant that I saw. I thought educational walks could be offered like, “What is it, and it is any good?” - A kind of plant identification course. I pulled out my “Sharing Nature with Children” book and began outlining what games could be played and where they could be held around the town. I thought this would be good for children who may have some time on their hands now that school was out. I envisioned making a ‘leisure guide’ brochure like Winnipeg has, where surely I could come up with a multitude of classes to offer; maybe even someone would offer the job of Recreation Director and my troubles for wages would finally be over. Hope was coming over the horizon. but I worried that like the match girl who lights her matches, that this last one I was holding at this window of opportunity (the summer) would not light onto something fast enough before it closed. I feared that if this match should go out, then I would be forced into something that will kill the creative spark in me like it surely did before.
While walking my dog, I met another person walking theirs and in the conversation that came about because of mutual experiences, he said something like this:
“It is like you have been sliding down a rope and it hurts as each new descent in the slide serves a fresh burn to the palms. Now you are dangling by the knot at the end of the rope, and you’ve got to hold tight.”
I will now add to this analogy:
As I hold tight, I look around and I can see everything I have endeavored to start, each as it was lit like the little matchgirl’s matches held out to others, but not alighting to anything and so then it goes out.
Those that have recently seen me may think that I look good, seem fine, full of vibrancy, and coming out unscathed by our experiences—that people of my disposition love drama. The truth is that personally I feel I could do entirely without the drama. I would much better like to spend my time and energies in collecting the beauty of nature through the eye of my camera for the world to contemplate and cherish in the hopes that they may then come together and take better care of it. Being a drama queen to me is a total waste of energy and life. If I come across as being bent on drama, it is only because of my long seclusion in striving for our family on an island. So when I do speak with people beyond my immediate family the words are loaded with the emotions and imagery that we have been holding and feeling for so long. They will naturally come out dramatically. This has nothing to do with wanting to create an effect like some badly written, or well written play.
I do not choose to be up with insomnia for over a decade, often forcing myself to go back to sleep on the couch so that I do not wake my husband who is so well tuned into me that he stirs and turns along with my mind of thoughts that won’t quiet down to stillness. Though I have been forcing myself for some months now to go to bed by eleven o’clock in order to regain an equilibrium of emotions and civility, lately I have been experiencing insomnia again as I feel my time for opportunity running out—So then, like today I think I might as well get up and make the most of the disruption.
I push myself up out of the darkness, long before the early birds are catching the worm, in an effort to move us out into the light of day. If my words sound dramatic, it is only because I am trying my visual artist best to convey that which we are experiencing, like the ever present rock in my belly. If only I would take my own advice and take back some of the lost hours to watch a bit of comedy in an effort to expel this rock through laughter, perhaps feel butterflies of excitement at least once again. In actually, the children and my husband have been able to entice me into watching a few movies, and I have found myself coming to this laughter again.
I can identify a bit with the Humbi women that I stole a moment to read about in National Geographic magazine. The explanation for what appeared to be bizarre behavior was said by a psychologist to be a way to deal with their anxiety and feeling of not knowing where their position in life would be in the future because the culture of the modern world was closing in on them. I felt they had every right to feel this way and it was such a shame that a people who looked so beautiful, unique, and self-reliant were yet again to be homogenized. Though the women later were gathered round a fire inducing trance states through music (drums), in conjunction with an alcoholic beverage (like so many of us do at parties and in going to the bar), a toddler at their feet had the most wonderful look of amazement and joy on its face. I felt I could probably induce a trance state of this same joy and happiness by simply gazing at the baby for a period of time. Perhaps I should as a form of healing and make a work of art using this photograph of the baby as reference.
The clearing of our home of over 100 extra large black garbage bags of items certainly helped to make us feel better (though some of what I gave away I find now I could use, funny how that happens), but the truth is that sometimes I feel I am like a candle near the end of its wick just before it goes out… that is when it burns brightest.
I say brightest because a new infusion of hope has been very unexpectedly pumped into my heart. It came on a return journey of squeezing in a visit to see my sister who travelled 1,327 kilometers to see us, so we dipped once more time into the imaginary pot of money to drive the last 146 kilometers to see her. On the way back we passed a sign that said, “Coming Soon to Market!” It’s not like we didn’t pass this way before; it was a regular route so ingrained that I cannot begin to count how many times we have gone by. It encompasses a land that I have often stopped to take photographs of because of its beauty and the different way the light and seasons pass upon it. There’s a charming old building within the setting nestled amongst the trees that often serves to enhance the timeless feeling of this place. It seems untouched by time except for the natural wildlife that fit so perfectly within the whole scene.
I even ventured once to guiltily explore it, drawn in by the call of geese and the magnetic lens of my camera. It was soon apparent that I would never get the view of the geese because of the tangles of brush that would put me knee deep into a swamp that seemed to call on the forces of mosquitoes to really close in on my intrusion, so I extricated myself from there without the reward of a photograph. Only my memory was granted to bring the images I saw.
With this in mind, you might wonder why I would have lingered one day when I saw a “for sale” sign go up on the land, especially with the knowledge of our own situation.
Evermore the dreamer, I stopped and gazed and thought how this land would be perfect for a nature center—to share a lifetime of connecting with nature, to teach and practice lessons like I had done while at Fort Whyte and more. But then with a sigh, I drove on and this thought left my memory until a few years later, long past the sale of the property, and even while they built a house that at first seemed to suit the land but then grew to what I thought was too expansive and modern until I saw a sign…
“Coming Soon to Market!”
The sign hooked and snagged my heart. I pondered, then I said the words out loud, “I wonder…”, as I slowed the vehicle with two of our children in the back, “…How much they’re asking for this place.” By this time I had come to a stop and decided to take a picture to remind myself to look into it. I then took a picture of the sign with the telephone number on it so that I could call and inquire.
As I was driving away, it was then that I noticed that my children were telling me something repeatedly.
Pardon? “There was a man waving at you, Mom!” Hmm, I thought, maybe I’ll take that as a sign to explore this further.
I felt a little apprehensive, then somewhat as an intruder as a family with a child, went in then out of a vehicle so I couldn’t tell if they were coming or going or if I was interrupting something. I was already halfway down the driveway and there was no where to turn around until you got down to the end, so I thought ‘in for a penny, in for a pound’ and continued along. I came out of my vehicle feeling a bit foolish but followed through in the direction of my original intention. The vehicle with the family was leaving as I did so. A man came sweeping out of the garage with such a force of cheer and welcome that it immediately put me to ease. In fact after a brief introductory conversation, he extended an invitation to view the house not only to myself, but to my two children waiting in the car as well. As I was curious about the whole of the property and my son was so enthused and curious about the “icing on the cake”, the turret at the top of the house, I accepted the invitation.
What I didn’t know was that in accepting this invitation, a fountain of inspiration would begin to flow through me and I would dare to allow within my consciousness one last dream, the biggest dream I could ever imagine, but one that in the end could encompass all that I have ever imagined in my journey of endeavoring to succeed.
(Hold on a moment and dream with me as we go inside with our cameras, a permanent feature to my movement beyond our home and I am glad that my daughter brought hers as well because of what transpired.)
We respectfully took off our shoes to step into what clearly became a work of art in the building of this home. I was once again swept away but this time by the design and craftsmanship that carried my eyes visually up one side of the house by a staircase that was rather mirrored by one coming down the other side.
‘Perfect’ was my first thought.
This would be perfect for the first vision I ever saw of what my husband and I would be doing if we ever moved to the country. It was my feeling that we could have a bed and breakfast even in the middle of the ‘boonies’ and we wouldn’t be lonely because we would be in the company of happy people on holidays. I could teach about plants of the wild that are useful and my husband could have horses and serve breakfast because he was exceptionally good at making chocolate pancakes. I would even extend the hospitality to lunch as I enjoyed making soup, sandwiches and muffins.
Before going upstairs to see if there were enough bedrooms for this purpose, I decided to explore the ground level first. My eyes fell on a storage room with a curious door that I didn’t feel I had the authority to see what it contained at this point.
My children of course moved more quickly ahead of me, but I wished to savour this experience a bit at a time to allow an unfolding and absorption of the beauty of this home. This was illuminated by the light streaming from wall to wall windows that fell upon glossy and unscathed newly laid hardwood floors. I felt like I was gliding as I softly stepped toward the kitchen with an island counterspace that faced mostly perpendicular to front windows opening onto a view of the natural landscape.
‘Perfect’, I thought again—this time envisioning the people that would be coming into the Nature Center, where they might be stopping at the counter to pay for their admission or the purchase of an item that was displayed in the gift shop area. As kitchen facilities were near by, I thought a light breakfast or lunch could be offered and served.
To the right of this in a small room, my children were excitedly extolling the addition of a fireplace. This room I thought, could be reserved as a common room for a number of things, like authors reading parts of their novel, or poetry, or simply storytelling, relaxing and enjoying the view within and without including the charming shed and land framed by the country-style windows.
As we began to ascend the stairs that rounded into bedrooms and bathrooms, I was held enthralled by the added and sizable nooks within and without that would allow another dream to unfold—that of photography, along with family portraits by the fireplace, photography in these areas would serve to add the effects I dreamed of doing in natural light but could not accommodate within the poorly lit windows of our own home.
The only downside to our explorations came when we realized that should there be any way in heaven that this place could come into our care and management was that actually there were not enough bedrooms for us to directly live there, unless we did some squeezing. However accepting this was not a problem as one or two rooms could be reserved for all, including us, who desired some time to experience this place as a retreat, and so we continued to dream and explore.
Upon advancing toward the top of the first staircase that we had seen and past the partial handrailing, we were met with a spacious open living space that held me transfixed for quite some time. The calm that it seemed to reserve could be conducive to many stress release exercises. It could also be a teaching area for other kinds of lectures or lessons.
By this time the builder and owner had caught up to us and asked if we wished to see the top view (that being from the turret on the roof of the house.) As this would seem to be the grand finale and what my son was so keenly interested in, we agreed wholeheartedly.
The steps that resembled that of a ladder were quite steep as would be expected in such a creation and I was feeling my age a little in my careful ascent of them, though my heart was leaping ahead and impatient with myself. My children were already enjoying the view and the owner patiently waited for me even though it must have been a bit of a task because the wind was blowing furiously. At the time I thought it whipped in a rather unseasonable manner, more like a Spring or Fall wind that carries the sweeping circles of a new season. I gave it no further thought until the chill of it ended our viewing prematurely with its bite. I say prematurely because the 360 degree view we beheld of the land was breathtaking. I envisioned many school children, like my own being able to share in this view. I thought that it would be too much for one person to possess and keep this place for themselves. A work of art like this, the house and the land was something that should extend beyond the boarders of one family.
I said out loud during our visit, “Now, if there was a God…” He said, “If there was a God?” I answered, “Well, yes, I know there is a God, because I have seen too many things happen in my own life to think otherwise, but if there were any way that this place… it would be perfect for everything I have ever imagined”.
At one point the owner wondered if he would have trouble receiving what he was asking in return for his labour (that often went beyond necessity and into pure esthetics). I said, “If he had any trouble at all, it would only be because he was waiting for me to raise the funds!”
As we left and with hearing all of my words expressing my excitement in the house, the children’s hearts were also stirring with this excitement; but at the same time because of their age and their mind growing into logic, they also asked,
“Is it really possible, Mom, Could we live here?”
I thought for a moment, feeling into my heart. “Yes,” I answered, it is possible.
As we rounded onto one of the last main roads to our home we were immediately met with a rainbow on our left that went from one point on the ground, arching high overhead to the other side to touch the ground. It was a complete and Full Rainbow, and the first that we have all personally experienced. Naturally we stopped the vehicle to take a picture, but it was too big to capture in just one shot. It was brilliant too, lasting much longer than I have ever seen one last, still beaming after the five or so minutes we stopped to take photographs.
I noticed this because a week before I had missed taking a picture of one that I foolishly thought would last long enough while I quickly zipped my children home so they could carry on. When I came back up the street to take the picture, it had disappeared. I said to myself then that if I ever saw another, I would immediately stop to take a picture right then and there, and that is what we did.
It was so brilliant in its endurance it allowed an examination that led me to notice that not only was it a full rainbow, but it was a Double One! The second rainbow overhead of it was faded but followed the same complete arch with all of the colors showing. We were thrilled. I asked our children if we should just step through it into a brighter and better future. My son asked if we really could step through. I wonder.
… Yes I am hanging onto the knot at the end of the rope and I see a 360 degree view…
I’ve got to hold tight, but not for long because this window of opportunity is at present, only open for a very short time. The property and house have officially gone to market.
As I hold tight, I look around and I can see everything I have ever endeavored to start, each as it was lit like the little matchgirl’s matches and held out to others, but not alighting to anything and so it goes out.
With the viewing of this house, I see I have one hand free with a match that has the ability to re-light all of the other matches that went out. It holds a vision that would not only help to alleviate our own problems, but others also, now and for many generations to come.
With all the candles lit, it would be like a birthday cake, a birth of something that can gain the support of community and government because of the intention and purpose it would serve. Once established it has the ability to be self-sustaining because of the variety of services it can offer.
If the gentleman who is selling this dream property is truly waiting for the right person to come along as he indicated, and is perchance looking for a sign…
…then the double rainbow becomes even more poignant when one learns that prior to this moment we could have all been swept up and away from turret of the house by a tornado that was forming clearly in the clouds right in front of us.
My daughter was in communication with a friend on the computer later in the day when she learned of this. She was told that it actually touched down shortly after it passed over us. I have looked on the net to find a confirmation but was unsuccessful. The fact remains that the cloud formation that precedes a tornado was right in front of us to see if we hadn’t been so busy gazing into the future of possibilities.
Remember when I mentioned we had brought our cameras along with us? Though I took a photograph of the view in the same direction, I fell a little short of capturing the beginning of this funnel formation of the cloud. My daughter who took it a little more to the right did catch it within the viewing frame of her camera.
There is only one barrier we face and it is the same one which weaves its way through the story and that is…
SUPPORT
When I came home with another match lit in my hand, though bigger and brighter than all the rest, my husband’s eyes went to half mast when I spoke of it. He too is at the end of his rope. I believe, that after my 50th birthday, when I spoke that I was beginning to recognize a pattern in my artistic behavior of inspiration that ignites but repeatedly goes out again—this loss of faith—With the sharing of this thought, it was now also transferring to him.
Though my husband is not the painted canvas I am that expels emotions from the inner world onto the outer, the signs of wear and tear are there to read especially by those who are closest to him.
If I succeed in any or all of my endeavors, I know whose shoulders upon whom I’ve been supported to reach that height. He has stood steady with his feet planted firmly on the ground while I have reached high overhead pulling dream after dream out of the heavens. He has endured both sunshine and rain, and for many years numerous tempests that have forced him to change the ground upon which he stands. Through all this he has held fast to keep all us all together, to love, protect, shelter, nourish, and do the best that he is able with that which is within his reach. This he has done and continues to do, standing the test of time, where others have lost this same kind of battle, leaving all to fend for them selves.
I know that it is discouraging for him and he may feel he has come full circle in the changing of ground while he seeks the best support, but I see it as a sign that it is now my turn, long overdue through my failure to ignite with the right amount of fuel one of my dreams from the heavens at least by the halfway mark of my 50th birthday. This to me is the reason why with the circle complete—that my husband begins again instead of following his own path led by the direction of his heart, this time with my support. This was the plan at least in my mind and though I am not sure if he ever heard of my desire to return the support, I know that this is the period of time that he envisioned to be leaving the work force, as it should have been if dedication, hardwork and loyalty were given its proper due from those of whom he gave his life energies to by working for them.
Because of this, I try like a heroine of olde with determination to carry the vision for both of us, while at the same time strive to rescue him from his rope. We can then both dive into the dream together and let it work through my willing hands.
-------epilogue-------
If this particular location does not work out, though in my opinion is it absolutely perfect there are a few other places and ideas I have in mind. And if nothing else, I shall still have my story to tell, the dream, and a belief that…
------ When one door closes, another one opens. ------
Janet Lovell-Simons
Copyright 2009
Copyright 2009
And now the dream has grown to include more,
perhaps even you!
Certainly with the well-being of families in mind
and the health of the natural world,
this covers a large spectrum.
perhaps even you!
Certainly with the well-being of families in mind
and the health of the natural world,
this covers a large spectrum.
The home described was sold in the summer of 2010. Had I only thought of the Faerie Goodmother idea a bit sooner, perhaps the dream would have been fulfilled. It is my belief that the gentleman who built the home held it as long as he possibly could, perhaps to give me a chance, however I was still caught in the quagmire.
I did meet one of the owners. She is most kind-hearted and gave generous support toward bringing alive the dream for a Creative Nature Center. I am grateful to her and am happy that the home went to good people.
In the meanwhile, this same talented gentleman is fixing up a barn not far from the location I had in mind. Perhaps if funds could be raised quickly enough, we could have a say in the design.
There is also a tea house with a marsh behind it that would do very nicely. Recently another home within Southern Manitoba come to market that would be most conducive as it is filled with artistic additions.
Finally if all else fails, the ultimate structure could be built from the ground up... most preferably as a strawbale structure as this would reflect the recycling and upcycling theme. Perhaps this could even be done within a farmer's field where part of the profits may go back toward supporting the farmer as well.
After note:
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Thank you to my Loving Sister for Sharing the Work of Rhonda Byrne,
The Secret and The Power
http://thesecret.tv/thepower/
"Faith is to believe what you do not see; the reward of this faith is to see what you believe."
Let us now see this Dream Come True!
