The Bubble Has Burst

I’m back from camping for four glorious days at the Hillside Music Festival with my family. We were part of the 1,400 volunteers, musicians, artisans and food-makers who helped to create the magic for the three day festival on a small island in the middle of a lake.

Hillside is really like living in a bubble – a bubble filled with music, singers and poets. It’s filled with drummers and dancers, parades and gatherings, art and artisans, beauty-makers and joy-creators. Tantalizing aromas fill the air with sizzling sausages, spicy tacos and curry fries. Colours and textures infuse the eyes with tie-dyed fabrics, twisted metals and gems, and carved wood pieces. Workshops offer new experiences of living and loving, moving and creating. The Children’s Zone is full of bubbles and paint, sand and water, music, crafts and laughter. The smoke from the Sacred Fire rises to the skies all weekend long, circling around the poles of the tipi in the Indigenous Circle.

Volunteers get to stay on the island where we create Volly Village with tents and trailers, banners and pennants. In the village are old friends and new friends, stories and gatherings, love and sharing. After hours, campfires burn and spontaneous musical jams and drumming fill the nighttime hours until the sun rises and a new day begins.

Yes, Hillside Music Festival is a delicious escape from reality. Now the bubble has burst and we all have returned to our homes. The secret lies in keeping the memories and magic alive in our own little worlds with photos and mementos, shared stories and friendships. It truly was a Happy Hillside and I am looking forward to next year.

My Hillside, My Community

This week I am busy preparing a special secret project that I am making for the Hillside Music Festival Volunteer Village. This will be my 18th Hillside, all of them as a volunteer or as family helping out by looking after little ones so others can work.

Hillside is more than just a festival to me. It’s a community of like-minded people brought together to celebrate summer, music, art, food, the environment and each other. As a volunteer, I have found a new family with other like-minded souls; generous, hard-working, fun-loving people. People who care about me, acknowledge me, sometimes infuriate me, and always make me laugh and feel great.

I am a better person when I’m with my Hillside community. I work hard to make others experiences better. I share my food, my time, and my belongings. I contribute to the greater cause by creating a fun, enjoyable experience for other volunteers with food, stories, music, firewood, singing, dancing, games, or arts and crafts made just for the joy and beauty of it.

Volunteerism brings together people for a common cause and the Hillside Music Festival is a great reason to come together, whether that be as a volunteer or an attendee. Consider coming out to it this weekend. If you miss this one, there’s always next year. I’ll see you there!

More Than 3 R’s

I have been involved in recycling programs through Green Teams at my schools where I taught as an elementary school teacher for decades. Our school won awards and commendation for our work in recycling and waste reduction. It’s important to me. Recycling and waste reduction is a passion and a lifestyle.

Over thirty years, I have watched the progress of recycling programs, moving from small collections of specified waste to larger, more diverse collections, as municipalities and regions got on board with being ‘green.’ I have also noticed the regression of recycling programs as municipalities have tried to deal with massive amounts of recycled items, including plastics. It’s coming to an impasse where the amounts just aren’t financially feasible anymore for recycling plants to find markets for their recycled resources. More and more, supposedly recycled materials are going into landfill sites as many users recycle poorly and recycling plants have to deal with sorting improper disposal of mixed materials in blue and green bins. Plastic has become the biggest polluter as we watch our oceans and landfill sites fill up with these products that take hundreds of years to break down. Social media has flooded us with pictures of miles of floating plastic seas in our oceans and dead and dying whales, birds and other aquatic animals that have been affected by plastics in their habitats.

We need to remember that REDUCE has always been the first of the 3 R’s – Reduce, Reuse, Recycle. We need to reduce the amount of plastic we use. We also need to come up with packaging and merchandise that uses materials that can break down in a reasonable amount of time.

We need some new R’s in our lives.

REGULATE – Don’t allow manufacturers to use and sell merchandise that is wrapped in heavy amounts of plastic. Create laws that prohibit it, the same way we have created laws for greenhouse emissions and hazardous waste disposal, all done in the name of safety for us and longevity for a healthy planet. As a consumer, I will still buy your product. I just need tomatoes. I don’t need the heavy plastic bin that they come in. I just need batteries. I don’t need the heavy plastic packaging that surrounds them.

RECOVERY – Manufacturers and industries can take back their waste from their products that they sell to us and make new products from the waste. One of the biggest companies that I know that do this is The Beer Store, Ontario. They sell their bottles and cans full of beer to us by including a refundable deposit on each container. When we return the empties, we get that money back. They also take back the cardboard from their boxes and packaging. You can read about the whole process on this link. https://torontoist.com/2013/04/what-happens-to-beer-bottles-when-you-return-them-to-the-beer-store/. The Beer Store maximizes the value of their waste.

REFUSE – As a consumer, find more ways to reduce your own personal level of waste. Buy second-hand clothing, use cloth bags, refill your water bottle and coffee cup. Try to buy products that are wrapped in smaller amounts of packaging or buy products that use packaging that breaks down more readily. Let’s lower our waste levels and buy merchandise and products that have the least negative effect on our Earth.

REPURPOSE – Be creative in finding ways to reuse or transform the regular use of objects in our life into new ways. A friend from Trinidad told me tin and/or aluminum cans are used to make lanterns, art or other uses. They are rarely thrown out. I have seen outdoor furniture made from recycled plastics.

RESEARCH – Put money and time and study into ways to lower our impact on our planet. We have to find new ways of dealing with our waste.

REFLECT – Teach our children to value their natural world. Keep circulating information that puts the betterment of our planet at the forefront. Think about your own personal way you relate to the planet and all that is in it. Greed leads to consumerism and high levels of waste as we buy more and more and more.

Be RESPONSIBLE for your impact on the planet. Let your thoughts and concerns be shown through action. Do something to help. Do something to reduce your own footprint on the Earth.

RESPECT our planet. Let’s RESCUE and REVIVE our beautiful blue ball and RESTORE it to its natural state of wonder.

Dancer Woman by B. Heagy



I –  Dancer Woman laps up the space,

  Licks the edges in gentle rolls,

  Slowly stretches to full extreme,

  Gathers bundles of energy In soulful arms.

II – Dancer Woman

  She wades in tidal pools

  And gathers miniature treasures of self-expression —

  Enough to last for tomorrows.

III – Dancer Woman, oceanic,

  Invites me to water’s edge

  To taste her sensuous pleasures.

  Hand in hand,

  We wade in watery delight,

  Ride cresting waves

  Buoyant and bright.

  I hold my breath and plunge

  As she takes me into deepened shadows

  Of other worlds.

  

New Places, New Friends

Traveling not only give us the opportunity to see new places and experience new things, but it also brings new people into our lives. These people add special meaning to a vacation and many of them may remain friends long after the vacation is over. On my recent trip to Kauai, Hawaii, I met several wonderful people who I made immediate connections with.

The first connection was made after a church service in the lovely village of Hanalei. The pastor at the historical and beautiful Wai’oli Hui’ia Church was warm and friendly and eagerly invited any newcomers to stand, announce our names, and tell the congregation where we came from. The members of my family were the only ones who were Canadian.

After the service, a woman approached me and introduced herself as Carol Ann.

“My husband Michael and I are from Ontario too!” she said as she enthusiastically pumped my hand. “We love Hawaii. It’s such a special place.”

Later we ran into them again that same day at a slack-key guitar concert we went to and, this time, we spent a little more time chatting and we took a picture of the two of us for remembrance. We exchanged e-mails and said it would be wonderful if we stayed in touch once we returned home to Canada.

A few days later, my family was in the village of Kapa’a and, upon arrival, we each went our own way to do some shopping. I stopped in to a ladieswear shop called Tropical Tantrum. It was a feast for the eyes! The racks were full of tie-dyed and batik dresses and other clothes and accessories, each one original, each one bursting with colour, each one temptingly beautiful. I was drawn to one dress in deep purple jewel tones, spotted with soft turquoise butterflies. It reminded me so much of Tom, my deceased husband and our special relationship with butterflies. It wasn’t cheap so I decided to go for lunch and think about it. It didn’t take long. After lunch, I immediately returned to the store. This time the clerk, Charlene Wolfe, and I struck up a conversation. I told her about being a widow and that’s what drew me to the dress.

“I’m a widow too,” she said, “but I have remarried.”

I told her my husband’s name was Tom.

“That was the name of my husband too,” she exclaimed.

We both marvelled at the coincidence and I left her my business card and told her about my book “10” and my blog.

Little did I know, later that day she checked out my book on Amazon and was able to read a preview of the book. It told my introductory story of finding dimes everywhere and how the number 10 played such an important part in Tom’s and my life. At the end of the day, she had to count the $300 float and, lo and behold, she found it to be two dimes short. She was astonished at the synchronicity of it all. Barb came into my store two times, we both are widows, both our husbands’ names were Tom. I have to tell her. She immediately tried to call me, then text me but I wasn’t answering. (I wasn’t using my phone on this holiday.) As a last resort, she e-mailed me at the address on the business card.

The next day, my family had gone on a river cruise in the morning but stopped at Kapa’a for lunch. My brother Peter, his wife Sharon and I decided we wanted to try out a shrimp place so we dropped my sister Audrey and her husband Ted off and headed back to the restaurant. When we returned to the heart of the downtown area, it was very busy and parking was at a premium. We circled around once and then finally found a spot – right in front of the Tropical Tantrum Store. Who was in the doorway, talking to her husband, but the beautiful Charlene. She was shocked to see me!

“I’ve been trying to get you all day. Ed, this is the woman I was telling you about,” she said to her husband.

She eagerly shared her story and we both marveled at the magic of it all.

On our last day in Kauai, I dropped my family off at the airport so they could catch their 11 a.m. flight to Oahu. I, on the other hand, was returning to Canada on a much later flight, so I kept the rental car for the day and headed off to Kalapaki Beach in the town of Lihue.

At the end of the day, I was sitting at a picnic table under the trees so I could watch the beach scene and enjoy the scenery and people. One by one, locals started dropping in to sit at and near my table. One of them introduced herself, Monica, and said that she had just finished her work shift as a bus driver and every day she and her friends came down to these tables to just enjoy the sun, some cold beers, some music, a bit of food, and each other’s company. I ended up spending a wonderful two hours with these friendly locals and felt totally welcomed into their group. When I left, I made sure I took a picture of them so I could remember them.

One of them, Raymond, said, “I have something for you.” He dug into a box in the back of his truck and handed me a beautiful purple sarong. “To remember us by,” he said.

Each of them gave me a hug before I left and Monica called out to me as I was walking away. “If you’re ever here in Lihue again, drop in. We’ll be here.”

I smiled and told her I would be sure to do that.

Sitting in the boarding area at the Lihue Airport, I found myself sitting beside a woman and her husband. We got talking and found out that we both were retired teachers, and both our names were Barb. She and her husband had cut their vacation short due to an illness. They were flying back to Vancouver, then Calgary. We exchanged emails. I think of Barb and her husband often and hope they made it home okay.

My final new friendship was totally unexpected and I never did find out her name but we had a very special time together. The five hour flight from Lihue to Vancouver was a red-eye flight. The lights were turned low and most of the passengers slept for the duration. That, at least, was the plan. A few hours into the flight, I was awakened by a baby crying somewhere in the seats behind me. It was wailing, totally distraught, and would not be comforted by its mother at all. One by one, people started waking and lights were turning on. The flight attendants stopped at the parents’ seat and offered assistance but to no avail. The baby kept screaming and was getting more and more wound up. The staff decided to give us some beverages and snacks and for a while, we all were preoccupied with that, as the baby continued to cry. I felt so sorry for first, the baby, as it was so frantic and would not be comforted, and secondly, the parents, who I was sure were trying desperately to comfort their child but nothing was helping. The situation was getting tense. I thought, “Somebody needs to help them. Maybe I can do something.”

Very gently, I approached the parents and said, “Can I help in some way? I’m a gramma. I’ve held a number of babies in my time. Can I hold her? I don’t know if it will help but I’m willing to try.”

The mom looked at her little girl in her arms and said to her, “Do you want to go with this lady?” and, lo and behold, the little girl reached both arms up to me to be held.

I took her into my arms and just started walking up the aisle, shushing the little girl with comforting sounds, stroking her head of golden curls, and singing soft songs to her. I stopped up at the top of the aisle and just stayed there, rocking her and singing to her, as she slowly stopped crying, and began to gulp air in giant hiccups as she settled down. Bit by bit, she relaxed more and more, until I could feel her weight getting heavier and heavier in my arms. Slowly I shifted her to a cradle hold and just continued to hum soft lullabies to her. As she fell deeper and deeper into sleep, the flight attendant asked me if I wanted to sit down in the front seat which was empty. I told her I better not as every time I stopped rocking her she would wake and  whimper.

“Would you like a blanket?” she asked.

“She’s pretty hot. She got so worked up. I think she’s okay,” I replied.

She asked me, “Do you know the family?”

I shook my head and said, “No, but I know what it’s like to be holding a baby that won’t be soothed. I can only imagine what that momma felt like, so I stepped in to help.”

The flight attendant shook her head. “Wow. You’re a baby whisperer.”

Finally, I felt the baby was deep enough asleep that I could return her to her parents. Slowly, sidling sideways down the aisle to seat number 10 where they were sitting, I leaned over and gently put the little one in her mother’s arms. She immediately woke up and began to cry, reaching up to me, not wanting to leave my arms. I smiled and took her back and she instantly stopped crying.

“I’ll just sit here behind you in this empty seat,” I said, “and we’ll let her sleep.”

And that’s what I did for the next while until we entered air turbulence and we were told we should all buckle up for safety. I returned her to her parents and she woke out of a dead sleep and began to cry again. This time I just leaned over her, uttering soft shushing sounds and stroked her hair and forehead. She stopped crying every time she heard my voice, so the parents began to imitate my actions and voice. By this time, the plane was bouncing around quite erratically and I decided I better get back to my seat. The little one kept crying but not as badly and we knew that we were very close to landing.

Once we landed, we all disembarked and I thought that was the end of the story. Imagine my surprise, as I headed to my new boarding area for the final jaunt home to Toronto, I saw the family off to the side rearranging carry-on items.

The mom smiled when she saw me and said, “There’s your friend.”

As they walked off in front of me, the little girl looked over her mother’s shoulder and locked eyes with me. As they turned the corner to head off to their boarding area to Edmonton, I gave a final wave to my new little friend — a most precious one.

So — two weeks in Kauai, many new friendly encounters, and good memories. Travel offers us not only a change of scenery but an opportunity to form new bonds and widen our circle of friendship. That alone makes it so beneficial.

Cracked Open

December 11, 2018, was the anniversary of Tom, my beloved husband’s death. Eight years ago, he passed away into another world. Facebook, my main social media site, has a feature that takes you back on your timeline with each passing day. You are able to see what you did and said on December 11 from 2008, 2009, and so on. I was able to trace my life for the weeks and days preceding Tom’s death. I could see all the things that were happening and my comments on them, and I couldn’t help but think over and over again, If I only knew that one week later, three days later, Tom would be dead. It put a very different perspective on life for me. We just never know, do we, what life will bring. It reminded me even more to live each day fully, with zest. This is the main theme of my book, our story, in 10 – A Story of Love, Life, and Loss that I published after Tom’s death. His death and the grief over the subsequent years has taught me much about living a full life.

Grief has softened me. Not at first. First I felt raw and torn, laid open like a jagged wound. But with time that has healed and in the opening of that wound, deep in my gut, I have come to recognize a soft, vulnerable place. And I mean I physically feel it that way. There used to be a hole, a place where the pain of losing Tom and never having him in my life again sat like a dark cavern. It has been replaced. Now there is a fullness filling that empty hole, a soft spot, almost like the yolk inside an egg. It sits in the same place, never forgetting, but always accepting. Tom’s death took away a piece of my soul, but left behind a soft, accepting centre of love and gratitude. It may be delicate, but it’s not weak. In its softness is strength, courage, empathy. It’s pliable, secure, and forgiving.

Reading Mark Nepo’s , The Book of Awakening, I came across this passage. He seems to know about that soft spot within that comes after deep pain. He writes:

“It leads me to say that if you are unhappy or in pain, nothing will remove those surfaces. But acceptance and a strong heart will crack them like a shell, exposing a soft thing waiting to take form. It glows. I think it is the one spirit we all share.”

Grief has cracked me open, and because I was able to look and experience it full in the face, it has left behind a soft jewel in the centre of my soul.

Tradition

“Because of our traditions, we have kept our balance for many, many years.”

~ Teyve – Fiddler on the Roof

This weekend some of my Christmas traditions kicked in, helping to ignite my Christmas spirit.

I attended the Toonie Turkey Supper at St. John’s Anglican Church, Orangeville, where friends from the past gathered to enjoy a delicious turkey dinner with all the trimmings — a night meant to celebrate community and promote fellowship.

That same night, my family went downtown to celebrate the seasonal Tractor Parade of Lights. It was fun to be so close to the roaring tractors and big farm machinery and rigs all lit up with twinkling, colourful lights.

The next morning, we took the grandchildren to the annual Candy Cane Fair at the local hospital. For $2, the grandchildren were escorted away by an elf to choose and wrap a small gift for their mom, dad, grandma, or grandpa. This event is meant to help children get into the spirit of gift-giving during the holiday season and raise some funds for hospital equipment. Santa was there with Mrs. Claus for picture taking and there were craft tables and raffle tickets.

We went home again but only for a short while before we headed downtown again for the annual Santa Claus Parade with its colourful floats, marching bands and community participation.

Traditions are important. They give us a sense of belonging and add a secure rhythm to the seasons. They bring family and community together to enrich our lives and create memories. Through traditions, we reconnect with each other, find balance in our lives, and a little bit of magic.

What are some of your traditions?

Flying Lesson #1

Flying Lesson #1                                                                                Barbara Heagy

Come fly with me.

Oh, I don’t think so.                                                                                                                                                                                      

            I can’t do that.

Yes, you can.

Just step close to the edge

And let go.

No. I’m not made for flying.

            I’m heavy, clumsy, aerodynamically unsound.

            Birds are made for flying,

            Not me.

It’s all in the attitude.

If you feel light and free,

You will be light and free.

Come. Let go.

No. It’s not natural.

            I am not a flier.

            Supernatural powers would

            Have to be involved here.

We are all fliers

If we let ourselves be.

We are all meant to soar

High above the limitations

We set on ourselves.

But I’m scared.

            I would be alone.

            What if I begin to fall?

Trust me.

You are a flier.

You are meant to fly.

It will be as natural

And effortless and easy

As it is for a bird that steps out on a branch

and casts its body into the breeze.

But you have to believe,

And you have to stretch out your wings.

Gather up your courage

And jump.

You will not be alone.

The wind and the air will be your companions.

Well, if I’m meant to fly

            Let me not be

            As loose things

            Tossed about at the whim of the wind.

            Dust and leaves and dandelion seeds

            Are not for me.

            I want to be as sure as

            The goose in its yearly migration

            About its destination.

No,

There are no guarantees.

But I can promise you this;

The world of flight

Will be full

Of wonder and surprises.

You will find freedom

And new strength

As you glide

And soar and swoop

Over unknown worlds.

And you will be

More than you ever dreamed you could be.

You sound so sure of yourself.

I am.

You make it sound so easy.

It is.

Now, are you ready?

Let’s F L Y . . . . . .

Creativity and Spirituality

Back in 2003, I graduated with my Masters in Dance. My thesis was a study in the relationship between creativity and spirituality. For my closing remarks I included a poem I had written comparing the artist and the spiritual seeker.
 
“To be creative, we must be open, receptive, yielding.
To be spiritual, we must be open, receptive, yielding.
The artist asks and waits expectantly for the answer.
The spiritual seeker asks and waits expectantly for the answer.The artist trusts and steps forward in faith into the unknown.
The spiritual seeker trusts and steps forward in faith into the unknown.

The artist listens, observes, tastes life, then responds in action based on contemplation.
The spiritual seeker listens, observes, tastes life, then responds in action based on contemplation.

When we are creative, we give back the gift we have been given.
When we are spiritual, we give back the gift we have been given.

The artist in in awe of the world. For the artist, the world is truly a wonderful (WONDER FULL) source of learning and inspiration.
The spiritual seeker is in awe of the world. For the spiritual one, the world is truly a wonderful (WONDER FULL) source of learning and inspiration.”

(written as Barbara McQuarrie, Thesis title ” Dancing to the Still Point: The Expression of Creativity and Spirituality Through Movement and Dance in a Christian Retreat Setting”)

Writing for Healing – A Response Poem to Rumi

Back in June, I attended a writing workshop with Kat McNichol called “Writing for Healing” in Eden Mills. As one of the quick writing prompts, I wrote a poem Not Me.  It was written in response to the poet Rumi’s poem Not Here.

When the poem was introduced to us by Kat, I had such a negative internal response that I decided I should just deal with it in a written response. The result, created in five minutes, showed me the level of anger and weariness I had in dealing with the grief of my deceased husband and love of my life.

Kat asked if she could publish the poem in her online newsletter. Check out the poems (Rumi’s original and mine) and other stories by clicking on the link below.
https://www.dreamerswriting.com/stories-poems/barbara-heagy/

And by the way — if you have a chance to take a workshop with Kat McNichol, do it! She’s a fabulous teacher. There is another ‘Writing for Healing’ workshop coming up in October. Check for details at  www.dreamerswriting.com.

A Response Poem to Rumi’s Not Here

Not Me by Barbara Heagy

Oh, Rumi.
I do not want to hear this right now.
Don’t speak to me about bravery and sharp
compassion.
I have had howling hurt
And it sucks.

I have stood strong and full of courage.
“Turn and face the lions,” I said.
But the lions’ roaring pains my eardrums.
Their carnivorous breath makes me faint.
Their overpowering size tires me
As I pace the cage with them.

Copper and gold are not for me.
I have accumulated a treasure house of
such so-called riches.
Give me sun.
Give me breath.
God, give me pastrami.
Anything but more of your precious metals.

I am not half-hearted.
I am empty-hearted
Facing your sizzling ovens that shape the soul.

Empty-hearted, holding back,
I am now just well-enough and getting by.

Your challenge has depleted me,
Frozen my thoughts into debilitating ideas of
“I can do this.
This will be good for me.”

Well F’ you, Rumi.
I walk away from this challenge.
I’ve given at the office, thank you.