Category Archives: change
Wordless Wednesday – reborn from the fire
Goodbye Summer
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Twists and Turns
I love walking labyrinths.
There is so much about them that mirrors life’s journey. How we sometimes feel lost on our path with its twists and turns. How we don’t see the big patterns when we are inside them. How we journey again and again to the center of ourselves and back out again. How we sometimes interact with others on the walk and how sometimes we walk alone.
A bit about labyrinths. Labyrinths are not mazes. They are unicursal, meaning there is only one path. They come in many designs with lots of variations but there are two main styles – classical and Chartres. The classical seven-circuit style was first found on Crete 2,500 years ago. It was said that the labyrinth was built in Knossos to trap the fierce Minotaur. Theseus kills the Minotaur with help of Ariadne. I have always felt a bit sad for the Minotaur. Perhaps he is the beast inside each of us at the center of our journey. Maybe we’re meant to kill that beast. Or, maybe we’re meant to set it free. Or, maybe it just needs a hug.
The more complex Chartres’ style is found in the Chartres Cathedral in France and was created in 1225 CE. It is more associated with Christianity and is the style often found in Churches. They may be representative of a pilgrimage journey and in the 17th century it was popular to travel them on your knees. The more complex style means it’s harder to see the pattern. You really have to trust in the path and keep walking, even when you feel certain that you’ve made wrong turn or aren’t making any progress towards the centre or towards the exit!
Labyrinths for me have such a connection to the power of the earth. When you walk them, it’s like being plugged into a huge energy source. They have a presence that makes them feel alive. And, they have always had such a connection to the feminine spiritual connection. The hourglass shape made where two turns meet is called a labrys, the double-sided axe, a symbol of the Cretan goddess and of many goddesses. It is the representation of creation.
I have been to Knossos and I have also walked the labyrinth at Chartres.
I have walked labyrinths in many places and under many conditions. I have walked and danced and sang with joy and gratitude and the spirals of the labyrinth have been like springs under my feet giving me bounce.
I have walked with sorrow and grief and the labyrinth has accepted the flow of my tears like a river accepts water and rejoins it to the ocean.
I have walked labyrinths that are hundreds of years old, made of stone shined smooth by thousands of feet (and knees). I have created labyrinths while camping, marking off the paths with ropes that are unwound at the beginning of the weekend and gathered up at the end to wait for another year. And, as I did yesterday, I have walked labyrinths that are temporary, drawn on the sand of tidal flats and reclaimed by the sea in just a few short hours.
No matter what the circumstances of the walk, there is always the wisdom of the sacred journey. The reflection of life’s path. The reminder to walk each day with a similar awareness. No matter what the twists and turns.
A summer of single days
In the middle of this summer, I have made startling discovery. As I try to live my life one day at a time, the anxiety of achieving a future state of happiness has gone away and I am, well, pretty relaxed.
It used to be that days were marked by day, month and season. Weekdays (aka workdays) were dreaded and weekends were celebrated. Rainy months were supposed to be dreary and summer months were eagerly hyped as a time for play.
I have always that found vaguely stressful. There seems to be a lot of pressure placed on the “good times” of weekends and summer to have, well, good times. I always felt that I wasn’t quite doing enough – camping enough, partying enough, have crazy adventures enough.
Here’s the weird thing. As I’ve focused on just living one day at a time, I am finding that those expectations have fallen away and I am learning to appreciate the presents of the present.
Sometimes, I am focused on just one day because that’s all I can manage to think of getting through. It’s kind of relief to know that I don’t have to make things better. I can accept the sadness or loneliness of the day as just one day.
Sometimes, there seems so much that “should” be done that I’m overwhelmed and have to break it down to what I can do just for today.
Sometimes, the day is great and I can enjoy each slow moment of contentment. I can treasure the little things, express gratitude for my many blessings and laugh and be silly.
As I try to live each single day being the person I want to be in this world rather than some version of me that I think I am supposed to be, I find that there are no wasted days and each comes with its own gifts. I am inspired to keep striving, to pushing my boundaries, to live with my whole heart and to be authentic each day.
This week, I spent what is normally a work day out kayaking with some friends. It didn’t feel strange at all to be not at work. It was just what that day had in store. I have had great days at work. I have had long, lonely weekend days. I have frittered away a sunny day indoors when I should be outside. I have reveled in the return of the rain. I have let the depression win some days (and the potato chips). I have said “no thanks, I’ve camped enough for one summer.” I have treasured quiet coffee chats with friends. I’ve gone to bed before the sun goes down and I have partied late into the night til the sun was coming up again.
And, somewhere in there, I think I stopped living for an imaginary future where I accomplish all my “should” be items. Waiting for a future vacation, or a future weekend. Or a future anything.
And you know what? I’m having a really great summer.
One day at a time.
I’m not lost
The Solstice Six
Sas Petherick, a woman whose work has been circling round the edges of my explorations over the past few months, posted six questions for the Solstice. Thought I’d give them a shot.
Here in Vancouver, the Summer Solstice is a strange thing. Because, even though the days are officially getting shorter from now on, summer hasn’t really started yet. It’s warmer but still lots of rain and you definitely need a sweater in the mornings. We don’t really get summer here until early July. Which kind of always leaves me feeling like everyone else has long started the summer race and I’m still at the start line, tying my shoes.
But it is true that we are halfway through the calendar year. Seems like a good time to stop and reflect on where I am. Which is what Sas prompted with her Six Solstice questions –
1. Did you have a word for this year? How has it manifested itself? If you didn’t have a word, what is the theme that has played out in your life so far this year?
My word for this year is joy. The joy of waking up excited, of singing and running, joy that fills the top and bottom of my heart. Of feeling like I could fly. At this point, I have to be honest, this had not manifested. If fact, I feel farther from feelings of pure joy than I can ever remember. Mostly, this year has just felt like hard work.
What does seem to be manifesting is fire. The fire of lava and volcanoes in Hawaii. Finally getting to the Beltaine Fire Festival in Edinburgh. Being at a shamanic conference and breathing fire. Well, spitting 80 proof alcohol into the fire and having it breathe back (there was no way I was drinking that stuff). Campfires outdoors, teaching little ones about putting cedar on the fire for the “sizzle”. The fire of determination that it takes to get out of bed and keep fighting.
Maybe the fire will ignite the joy. Maybe the joy is hidden in the fire. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll know more in another six months.
2. What are you most proud of?
I am most proud that I get up each day and keep trying. That I allow myself to be seen and to be authentic even when it’s scary and I’d rather hide behind my walls. That I have the most amazing friends. And that at night when I go to bed, there is peace in my heart.
3. What have you chosen to let go of?
Scheduling and reliability. I have always been someone who had an intricately planned schedule. I liked it that way so I could fit in all the things I wanted to do. It was very controlled and organized.
But, two things started to happen. First, when others didn’t schedule like me, I often took it personally that they didn’t want to set a date to get together even if it was two weeks away. And, second, I would get really annoyed when people changed plans (i.e. bailed on me). Somehow it felt like a rejection because I had chosen to make that person a priority in my schedule but they didn’t reciprocate.
I didn’t realize that lots of people don’t actually schedule like I was! And, I don’t know whether its just that I’m getting older but I can’t keep up that kind of schedule anymore. I need more down time. I need unscheduled time. I need time for myself. If I’m doing creative things – like writing or glass beading – I need time to do that when the creative muse is flowing. It can’t be forced into a schedule. I need free time to have unexpected tea with friends, to go for a walk, talk/text with loved ones. To go to bed early.
And, I am learning to be okay with what feels to me like unreliability. With “bailing” on other people and on events. Even at the last minute. Because in battling depression, I need to listen and respect my body and my spirit. There are times when it is not the best thing for me to fake my participation at an event. Especially if it means using alcohol or food as a crutch.
So, I’ve cracked open my schedule and accepted that people might see me as unreliable. It’s opened up a lot more room. For unexpected blessings and just for myself.
4. What has been your greatest joy or surprise?
My greatest joy was seeing live flowing lava. My biggest surprise is how much I now enjoy the time I spend by myself. Knowing that I like my own company has taken away so much of my anxiety. I really notice it when I travel. I can let go of control and just accept each day. I feel like my own best friend. It’s kind of cool.
5. What book, movie, exhibition, tv programme, play, concert, article, photograph, or website has been your favourite find?
The book Quiet by Susan Cain has been my favourite find. Susan’s book is about introverts and how our society rewards extroverts even though we really need introverts, too! I have always been an extrovert. And, I wouldn’t call myself an introvert even now. But, a whole new introverted part of me has definitely emerged. I think I’m half and half now. Quiet helped me process the difference between my aloneness and my loneliness. Turns out, the emergence of my introverted half has brought with it a lot of creativity and calmness. Susan has a great TED Talk, too!
6. What three things do you want for yourself by the next Solstice – 21st December 2013?
I want to have healthy eating habits. I want to expand my photographic creativity into post-photo techniques (i.e. digital manipulation). I want to be able to set aside more money for my travel budget.
Well, that’s my halfway mark. Now, if the sun actually starts to shine here in Vancouver, I can enjoy the warm, if not so long, days of summer.
Music Monday – Something is changing
So I kiss goodbye to every little ounce of pain
Light a cigarette and wish the world away
I got out, I got out, I’m alive but I’m here to stay
Something is changing, changing, changing
1 of 59,100
Today is the Sun Run in Vancouver. One of the biggest fun 10K “races” in the world. It’s raining and I’m thankful that I don’t have to brave the crowds downtown. And while the weeks of physio have resulted in a green light to run again after injuring my knee it’ll be awhile before I am back to 10K. If ever.
I first ran the Sun Run five years ago. I wrote this piece afterwards but I’ve never shared it. Mostly because it is linked to my issues with food; which I rarely talk about publicly. Today seems like a good day to push through the fear and be proud of my story.
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On April 20, 2008 I ran 10km in the Vancouver Sun Run. One of 59,100 participants. Maybe they all have stories of how they ended up there early on a cold Sunday morning. This is mine.
When I reached out for help in the fall of 2006 I was in a deep well of pain and hopelessness, looking up at a sliver of sky with no idea how to climb out. The food was no longer helping me cope with life and I was unhappy and in despair. With just over two years to go to my 40th birthday, I looked ahead to that milestone with dread and panic. I was barely managing my life now at halfway through. How would I ever manage the next 40 years – if I even had that long?
Gradually, as I began to find the help I needed, I began to have hope again. As I let go of the physical and emotional weight, I began to believe that I could actively live the life I wanted to live, rather than only dreaming about it.
I remembered how much I used to love to run as a child – the sense of freedom, of motion, of feeling how alive my body was. I had dreamt through my 30’s of running the Sun Run the year I turned 40 in April, 2009.
I began to think I could make my running dream come true as well. Having not run for over 20 years, I thought I’d start trying at 39, just in case I “failed” and needed a second try to make it.
It took me 3 days to sign up for the Learn to Run clinic at my local community centre. Three days of feeling the fear of potential failure, three days of berating myself for not doing it and three days of trying to be gentle and encouraging with myself rather than harshly self-judgmental.
The first night of the clinic, a friend had to “talk me in” as I headed to class – scared, nervous and unsure of myself. I worried that I would be the slowest person, that I wouldn’t be able to do it, that the clinic leaders wouldn’t want to stay at the back of the pack with me, that others would judge and think that I shouldn’t be there. I worried about how I looked, what I was wearing, what I sounded like as I was running and whether anyone would want to run with me and be my friend. Somehow, I made it through the first night.
In between weekly classes, I ran twice during the week on my own. I ran at night in the dark so that no one could see me. I kept to the back streets and off the main roads so that other runners and car drivers wouldn’t look at me. But, I kept running and I kept going to class.
One night, about 6 weeks into the clinic, I was really struggling with the group run. I had a cold and as I huffed and puffed along with all my fears and worries weighing me down, I just wanted to quit. To give up and not have to work so hard.
But, that night, in the sky overhead, there was a rare and awe-inspiring sight. A total eclipse of the moon. While we were running, the clouds had dispersed and I had a beautiful view of the full moon as it gradually turned red and darkened into the eclipse. A full moon is a time of energy full and rich with potential. And a lunar eclipse marks a period of profound transformational change that in the past, was viewed with fear.
As I ran under this powerful sign, I realized that my journey of running – as with my journey of healing – is one of powerful transformational change. And that it is often hard, sometimes really hard, and sometimes scary. But, that my running journey with its physical transformation and my spiritual journey, with its emotional transformation are both worth the effort because I am worth the effort.
With that realization, I took that giant bundle of fear and worry and self-hatred that was weighing me down and left it at the edge of the road and ran onward both lighter and freer. I ran for me, for the joy of running and moving my body, for my health and because I wanted to make this dream – and all my dreams – reality.
A few weeks later, a woman in the running clinic said to me, “I love running behind you, you set such a steady pace.” Surprised, and not realizing that anyone was actually behind me, I replied, “I just concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, one step at a time.”
And at that moment, I realized that my method, which had lead to running success, was equally applicable to all the aspects of my life. Transformational change happens one small step at a time at its own pace. It is my journey, and it happens in my own time and speed and rhythm.
On April 20, 2008, I ran the Vancouver Sun Run. One of 59,100 runners, I ran it just for me, at my own pace, one step at a time, joyous and free.
Clearing space
On Saturday, I spent several hours gardening in a labyrinth.
Now, I am not a gardener. My rooftop patio has not a plant on it (except for that weird thing growing in one corner that I didn’t plant). It is decorated with art and beach treasures and other things that don’t die and don’t need water.
But I love labyrinths. I love the twist and the turns. I love that you lose the path and have only faith that you will end up somewhere. I love that just when you are lost, you find the centre. And, I love that each labyrinth has it’s own energy – a heady mix from all the people who have journeyed within it plus the energy of the land that it resides upon.
So I volunteered to help garden the labyrinth. And the job on Saturday was to clear away last year’s growth, now dead. And, we cleared a lot!!
As I ripped out the dead old branches and leaves, clearing space, I realized how much new growth was hidden under the weight of that old growth. New shoots, green and fresh, reaching for the sky and the sun. In amidst the dead, there was life.
As I carried armful after armful of old branches over to the compost pile, I thought what a perfect metaphor for life this was. Because we have to clear away the old to make room for the new. The old growth blocks the space that the new growth needs.
Some of the old branches came out easily. Others, especially the vine-type growth that snaked it’s way through the grass, required more effort. And, it all went into the compost pile to make new soil. And so it is with each truth about myself I learn and relearn. Some are easy and fun. Some are pretty twisty and tough!
Often times, I think we lament the old. And certainly there can be a grieving process in letting go of the past. But, it too was once the growth that we revelled in and which nourished us. Growth builds upon growth.
In those sunny hours working in the labyrinth, I was grateful for the reminder that clearing away the old is a necessary part of making space for the new.
Oh, and that it is hard work and you should definitely stretch afterward if you want to be able to use your muscles again the next day.

















