Category: Life Lessons

Four Seeds in a Hole





During this pandemic and the stay-at-home orders, I have started gardening in earnest. My daughter Brittany came to live with me last summer and together we transformed a back weed lot into a beautiful garden of flowers, flagstones, and a fountain. We learned a lot about seeds and plants, soil and watering (I’m still learning) and the practice of horticulture. Many small creatures; bees, insects, spiders, birds, groundhogs, squirrels, chipmunks, skunks, and rabbits have all visited our little haven and together, they have taught us many lessons about living in harmony with nature.
 
I have come to a realization that there is a whole group of gardeners who live by the philosophy of trying to live in an ecological balance with nature in their gardens. Natural means of diverting animals are used, such as planting marigolds or using raised beds and chicken wire fences.  Insect pests are washed away with soap and water or hand-picking instead of chemical means. Growing plants that are native to the environment and planting seedlings that are non-invasive is encouraged. Rather than trapping or killing animals, there are those that choose to use other means such as a scarecrow or simply planting enough so that both the animals and humans share in the garden’s bounty. I have come to see the wisdom of planting an abundance of seeds rather than a few, knowing that many of them will be lost to natural means.
 
The whole experience has brought to mind a little folk song I used to sing with my little grade 1’s when I was a teacher.

“Four seeds in a hole,
  Four seeds in a hole,
  One for the mouse,
  One for the crow,
  One to rot,
  And one to grow.”
 
Know that the essence of the natural world is abundance. One yellow dandelion head will yield over a hundred seeds, a female frog will lay over a thousand eggs, one pine tree can grow into a forest. Accept, too, that life gives and life takes away. Not all that you plant will yield a crop. Other creatures may eat it as a food source so that they may have life. Some seeds will not germinate and will rot in the hole.
 
We humans are a part of nature. There can be enough for all if we learn to cultivate and share what nature gives us freely. Gardening offers us an opportunity to connect with nature and find our balance with all living things. What we do to the land will ultimately affect our lives in the long run. Let us learn to live in harmony and ecological balance so that all life may thrive. Gardening can teach us that.

Love Better

This New Year’s Day I found myself reluctant to make any big resolutions. I am such a goal-oriented person and when I make a goal, I make a back-up plan for how it will come to pass, and then I’m checking my progress along the way at specific signposts. It has often become work rather than play. Meaningful work at the time but this year I thought, “Nah, I don’t feel that driven. I don’t want to put myself through that.”

And yet, I do want to move forward as a person. This year my aim is “To Love Better.” It sounds too simple and wishy-washy but it has big output when it’s put into place. I want to increase my circle to enlarge my world and take a bigger stand in it.

I want to listen better, contact you more often, be interested and care about you. I want to be more generous in my gifts of all kinds whether that be time, finances, or material goods. I want to be braver in stepping forward to be in your life. I have learned that I don’t need to be intimidated by you, we are all equally worthy.

I want to be more aware. I don’t need to be overwhelmed by you and your life. I don’t need to solve all your problems and take them on as my own. I just need to be there for you in small little doses or in bigger, more extended ways if it feels right and it’s helpful for us both.

I want to be more attentive, watch for the moments when I can step forward — by opening a door, letting you go ahead of me in line, helping carry your packages. I want to stop turning my back on world problems and learn about them and take responsibility for them. I can’t solve them but I can take little steps to change myself and my little place in the world by cutting down on my garbage output, my use of energy resources, and contributing to causes that promote good environmental practices. I can write about world problems and offer solutions guided by others to spread the word and offer aid when needed.

I would be amiss if I forget to include loving myself in my resolution. I want to focus on good health practices, by watching my diet, exercising regularly, and taking time for mental and spiritual growth.

I want to love my God, my spiritual guide better. I want to read more, talk more, learn more, share more, pray more, listen more. I want to be open and receptive. I want to be quieter and attend to You more.

It’s already sounding bigger and more complicated, isn’t it? It doesn’t have to be. All I have to do is keep my little mantra in mind, and in every instance in my life just keep saying it, “Love better.” When I start to whine and complain and I just want to give up, I say to myself, “Love better.” When you begin to irritate me and I find myself wanting to strike back in anger with bitter words or walk away, I say to myself, “Love better.” When I’m feeling overwhelmed and know that I deserve attention too, I say to myself, “Love better” and attend to my own needs.

It can be that easy. Just “Love better.”

The Nautilus Shell

Reading Mark Nepo’s “The Book of Awakening” last night, I found this beautiful passage and contemplation of the Nautilus shell creature that with time becomes a spiral shell. As it builds a new layer, it only resides in the newest chamber, leaving the other chambers to be full of liquid or a gas to aid buoyancy.

Nepo uses the Nautilus as a metaphor and lesson for our own lives: “…live in the most recent chamber and use the others to stay afloat. . . Can we internalize where we’ve been enough to know that we are no longer living there? When we can, life will seem lighter . . . only time can put the past in perspective, and only when the past is behind us, and not before us, can we be open enough and empty enough to truly feel what is about to happen.”

As hurting, wounded humans, we carry our pains and traumas around as added baggage that weigh us down and affect our daily lives in negative ways. Would that we could leave the weights of our stings and distress behind and move ourselves forward into our new lives, like the Nautilus, using our past tribulations to hold us up rather than hold us down.

How we do that is not easy. For me, research, reading, talking to others, listening to others, journal writing, quiet contemplation and meditation, walks in nature, and prayer all help me to internalize my life journey and then step back with the lessons I’ve learned to move in a positive forward direction. “Be here now” is a mantra that is built on our past experiences by not denying our past but not being weighed down and led by it.

Just Keep Dancing

For many years, I taught jazz dance at a local dance school called The Orangeville Top Cats. At the end of each year, our students performed in a big dance recital at the high school, always to a packed gym.

I used to tell my students that once they were out there on that stage, just let themselves get caught up in the flow and energy of the experience and give it all they had. If they made a mistake, they were to do it boldly, just make it part of the dance. Don’t grimace, don’t stop, don’t get intimidated and think badly of yourself. Make your mistake part of the dance and keep on dancing with confidence and certainty until you can find your way again. People watching you won’t know you made a mistake if you do it with conviction. They will think “Oh, that was a nice little solo.”

When we give 100% to anything, when we are caught up in the moment, open and vulnerable, but assured of ourselves that no matter what happens, we will just keep dancing, well, that’s living, really living.

No One Left Behind

Years ago, as an elementary school teacher, I coached the school cross-country team. One year, my daughter Maegan was a member of the team. That year she taught me a heart-felt lesson that I never forgot.

For those of you who don’t know, a cross country race ends in a funnel, where the trail forces the runners into single file and assures their standing in the race. The race was close that year and our team was doing well. I always stood on the sidelines for my runners, spurring them on as they approached the finish line. In the final curve, Maegan was surging forward as she put on her final spurt, passing runners as she raced forward, ensuring herself and the team a good scoring.

All of a sudden, one of the runners went down, stumbling and falling, holding her ankle and crying out. Maegan raced past her and then suddenly stopped. I started yelling at her, “Maegan, go! You are so close to the finish line. Go! Someone else will get her. There’s lots of us here.”

Without hesitation, Maegan ran back and helped the girl to her feet and together they limped across the finish line as other runners raced past them.

As I watched her, I didn’t know what to think. My own competitive nature felt she should have just continued on with the race. It wasn’t as if the girl wouldn’t be helped by someone else. But as she approached me with a contented smile on her face after the race, I felt a great deal of pride for my daughter. Her priority wasn’t winning the race. She saw a fellow racer in trouble and stopped to help, even though she must have realized that others would have stepped in and that she was forfeiting her good standing in the race.

She taught me a lesson that day. Whenever we have an opportunity to help another human being, act on it. Don’t leave them behind thinking that someone else will take care of the situation. If we all thought that way, the weak and down-trodden may never be helped. We would all be assuming, “It’s not my responsibility. Someone else will do it.” Maybe they will, but maybe they won’t. Choose to help at every opportunity. That way we all win.

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.

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 . . . . . .