His hand in mine

He held my hand.
The finale of my trio of babies.

We walked.
Not too fast, not too slow. 

I mostly listened.
To his stories about life at school. 

I stayed curious.
Asking questions to understand his heart. 

I relished in the gift of time.
Being present with his words as we walked. 

Nothing else to do.
Nothing else on my mind. 

Just my baby.
His hand in mine. 

He let go, more than once.
Worried someone would see him.

But he always came back.
Hand in my hand, smiling broadly.
The classic twinkle in his eyes.
My son, eight years later.

Time has never moved so slowly,
Yet passed so fast,
As it did tonight.

Just my baby.
His hand in mine.

A mindful moment at the window

There's something about the air, outside.

Opening the windows to let it all in.

It's freeing from the old.

 

Clearing out the dark spaces.

Vast places,

The thoughts that loomed in the air.

 

There's some about open windows that makes me lighter.

A lessening of the heaviness that fills a house closed from the world.

It's a new beginning, a welcoming sign of new life.

 

There's something about the way the breeze shifts my mind.

An opportunity to notice and remove the cobwebs.

Newness to appreciate.

 

Clearing out the negativity.

Pushing aside,

All that no longer served me.

 

There's something about the air, outside.

It fills my home with the day's perfection.

A positive energy I cannot replicate.

 

There's a reason windows should stay open,

They clear that which is not needed.

And remind me that life is all around my home.

 

So go and open your windows, if you can.

Feel the breeze.

Listen.

 

Know that if you want,

A new beginning is behind each breath of air.

Each gust of life.

Your smile can return.

With the simple act of noticing.

The beautiful breeze from your window.

The good still lives here

The good still lives here

Even when the news isn't what we hoped.
When there's more appointments ahead.

Good still lives here.

Even when our bodies are weary, worn and aching for rest.

Good still lives here.

Even when it's hard.
When tears of frustration become a normal part of every day.

Good still lives here.

Even when we are low.
Defeated and frustrated and depleted.

Good still lives here.

Even when the only constant is change.
And nothing surprises us anymore.

Good still lives here.

It's the 'feel better' notes.
The long, steady hugs.
The dance parties we are 'forced' to take part in.
The puppy cuddles.
The sweet messages from friends.
The distanced help from ‘ride or die’ family.

Proof that the good still lives here.

It’s looking in the eyes of your partner and knowing that,
while we ask aloud,
what else could possibly go wrong,
we are grateful because we know it could be worse.

Now is the simultaneous existence of
present moment awareness,
complete exhaustion and anxious thought.

It’s life.

And the good still lives here.

Surrender

Surrender.
Don't hold it all so tightly.

Surrender.
Let your emotions ebb and flow like gentle undulations above your heart centre.

Surrender.
Breathe in and out, noticing the rise and fall.

Surrender.
Hold yourself in stillness and notice the space.

Surrender.
Listen to the moments unfolding all around you.

Surrender.
Be at peace. 

Nothing to do.
Nowhere to go.
Just simply, be.

Surrender.

Life is a series of energetic give and take

I spent a little time talking to my son about energy today. It's something I never learned about until I was in my late 20s, but it's a very mindful concept that helps me decide where to spend my time, when I have the choice to do so.

If you've ever read The Celestine Prophecy, the author refers to the concept as 'energy takers' and 'energy givers'. It's the idea that everything surrounding us has energy attached to it, as do we. And every interact point will leave us feeling some degree more or less energetic, as a result.

There are some people, places and things which GIVE me energy. For me, the feeling of receiving energy makes me feel rejuvenated, joyful, grateful, loved, energetic, pumped up or bursting at the seams after spending time in this way. I think of how my parents and my best friend leave me feeling better, more full and capable, after spending time with them. Meditation, snuggling on the couch with my family, walking my dog, feeling the sunshine on my face, date night, spending time near water, in nature and at our family cottage all provide energy to fuel me.

On the other hand, some people, places and things TAKE energy from me. For me, the feeling of having energy taken from me feels exhausting, weakening, tiring; like my mood is lowered and my brain and/or body have been depleted in some way. Things like taking my kids to medical appointments, managing conflict, spending time with inauthentic people or those who lack integrity and explaining myself to someone who isn't listening, suck the energy right out of my body.

Now here's the tricky part; we don't always get to choose the people, places or things we interact with. We cannot always avoid hard things, difficult people and draining environments. I would argue that perhaps these are put in our path to help us notice the difference between the ones that give energy, and the ones that take it away from us.

Also, important relationships in our lives will be a MIX of giving energy and receiving it, depending on circumstance, trial and other hardships. I would argue that we are designed for this purpose entirely, as in loving others we must give of ourselves. We can give and take quite remarkably, and we do so all the time without even noticing.

The amazing thing I've realized about energy is that sometimes we CAN MAKE A CHOICE. We can choose how much time we spend with energy takers; the people, things and situations that drain us. We can begin to notice how our bodies and minds actually feel, while interacting, then use our observations to inform future choices.

Let me give you an example.

Today, my son came upstairs twice and asked for hugs. He said he felt tired and I observed him to be sullen and sluggish. I noticed but didn't say anything to him. This afternoon we took a short drive and he had nothing to say on the way to our destination. He just sat in silence, and I controlled my many urges to make him speak. After reaching our destination, he interacted with a few people he hadn't seen in awhile, received some items and got back in the van. He was smiling ear to ear and chatted all the way home about what he received, how to use them and why they were awesome.

Huge shift in energy, right?

I would argue that whatever he was doing this morning likely zapped his energy. I would also argue that our drive and interaction left him bursting with new energy. It was awesome to observe and I shared it with him.

What he does from here is his choice. 

I encouraged him to notice the difference in how he felt this morning vs this afternoon, and spend the week noticing how he feels around certain people, doing certain activities and being in different places. I could hazard some guesses, but he's old enough to go inward, notice and observe, then be empowered to do more of what strengthens his energy. I also suggested he consider sharing his energy more often when he has lots to give, as life is a series of energetic give and take.

So this week, challenge yourself to notice how you feel. Maybe keep a journal, digital notepad or debrief once a day with someone you love.

Notice the people who ignite you with joy, as well as the ones who do not. Notice the way things you interact with - news, social media, art, music - add or retract from your day.

Then, whenever you can make a choice, seek out more of what keeps you energized,
and give energy to others whenever you feel strong enough to share.

xoxo

Maybe we won't go back

I've been reflecting lately, on this crazy year we are having. 2020 will most certainly never be forgotten, for a million different reasons. At times I've fought with it, hated it, cried about it and many times I have gone to bed thinking there was no way I could make it through another day. 

But then I thought, perhaps this is what we are supposed to learn. 

That grey is a medium place. 

It's not good, but it's not necessarily bad. 

It's non-striving. 

It's being. 

It's stepping outside of the stories we create in our own monkey minds. 

During this time of awakening, perhaps we are being called to listen. 

Actively listen to our bodies, our partners, our neighbours and children. 

Perhaps this time can teach us to find gratitude in each moment as it unfolds. 

Maybe we won't go back. 

Maybe experiencing non-striving is the gift, here. 

Finding joy in simply being. 

Remembering what it's like to not have plans, throw big parties or take marathon shopping trips. 

Maybe we won't go back. 

Perhaps this is the new normal. 

Less scheduled driving, more time to explore our own minds and beliefs. 

More time to look inward and support others in a new consciousness. 

Maybe we won't go back. 

Maybe this time is teaching us that our before was truly unsustainable. 

It was too fast, too wasteful, too superficial. 

Too far from mother earth and the beautiful gift of simply being. 

Maybe we won't go back. 

Perhaps the grey is teaching us to trust Him more. 

To pray on our struggles and consider this parable's lesson. 

Believe that God's plan is exactly ours, as well. 

In a world that was so egotistical, so full of wants confused as needs, perhaps we shouldn't go back.

Perhaps the little humans we are raising will be better for this time, better for the grey, better for being.

So, don't be so quick to want to go back.

Perhaps there's no such thing, and the only sure thing is the experience we are having right now. 

As we commit to being. 

Non-striving. 

Trusting.

Living.

 

- B R E A T H E -

It's been a week.
A wild ride, a wavy sea of change.
A never-ending tale of discomfort.

I've felt everything from gratitude, love and hope,
to anxiety, panic and fear.

We've never done this before.
Or have we?

Something I did not anticipate was how old trauma would surface.

Flashbacks to a hospital room I couldn't leave.
Feeling cagey.
Terrified.

Isolated to ourselves.
Trying to keep things 'normal.'
Exhausted.

Right now is also an old memory engrained in my soul.
My mind racing back and forth.
Then.
Now.
Us.

- B R E A T H E -

Ground into the earth.
Feel the roots of my spirit protecting me.

- B R E A T H E -

Love myself and my family.
Hug and touch and cuddle and hold.

- B R E A T H E -

Pray.
Meditate.
Journal.
Every day.

- B R E A T H E -

We can survive this.

When we live in the moment, we breathe

"Mommy! You keep asking me if I feel ok and you are scaring me!"
Cue the tears.

I didn't think much of my words. I didn't think I was panicked, in fact I was pretty sure he was having a slight skin reaction due to cross contamination of dairy.

I was upset though.
My mind was racing... how the heck? Again? What am I doing wrong?

But I didn't suspect anaphylaxis. I wasn't pulling out the EpiPen.

My words scared him.
I scared my sweet little anaphylaxis warrior into a tummy ache.
(which of course worried me even more, as this can be another sign of an allergic reaction).

Sometimes, I forget to be in the moment. Be all in, right now.

This morning I was three stages ahead thinking - what did he touch? How am I failing him? I need to watch for worsening symptoms...

I was living in the future.

If I was living in the present moment, mindful and aware, I would have noticed that I was scaring him. That I asked too many times if he was ok. That he was becoming afraid. That he wasn't showing any signs of it getting worse.

This is the difference that mindfulness makes.

When we live in the past, our kids become weighed down by our own grief, trauma and depression.
When we live in the future, our kids feel our fear, anxious thoughts and trepidation.
Hard to admit, I know.

When we live in the moment, we breathe.

We notice the space between stimulus and reaction.
Formulate a response.
Breathe again.
Notice again.
Act calmly.

Mindfulness is a practice, one I take very seriously. But as you can tell, I am only a student. This practice is a way of life that is always teaching me to turn back to present moment awareness.

Simply noticing the now.

This morning I failed and felt horrible for upsetting my sweet boy.
He was totally, 100% fine.

But trust me, I'll dust myself off and keep trying.
Mindfulness just works like that.

xo

You are alive today

A cold morning walk with 90s tunes blaring in my ears.

An old retriever dog, white face and golden body, walking down a busy street with a giant branch in his mouth.

A postal worker picking up an empty garbage bin rolling around on the street.

Amazing lunch conversation with a dear friend and long-time mentor.

 

What do these all have in common?

 

Well...

 

they brightened my day,

made me smile,

reminded me of all the good around me.

 

They were free,

unplanned,

spontaneously noticed on an average day.

 

The question is, would I have noticed if I wasn't bringing mindful awareness to my day?

Probably not.

 

How much in our day to day life do we miss by thinking so far in advance?

How much passes us by, when we are busy analyzing the past?

 

The past leaves us depressed.

The future gives us anxiety.

Why do we continue to live like this?

 

Eckhart Tolle says, "Realize deeply, that the present moment is all you ever have."

 

Think about that.

Really reflect.

 

Why spend the next day, hour, minute even worrying about something that hasn't happened?

Why lose a week, a month, a lifetime feeling angry or holding a grudge about something which cannot be undone?

 

Our life is not meant to be perfect.

But we can appreciate it regardless.

 

There's no moment but now.

And it's up to us to live it.

Breathe it.

Love it.

 

Find the good, in today. In your now.

Whatever or wherever, it just is.

 

You are alive today.

And that is a gift.

 

xo

 

 

Grow with us

I am still trying to come up with words, to express how I am feeling right now.

Angry.
Sad.
Broken.

A good start, yes, but the pain I feel is so much deeper than that. So much more raw. It's as if someone took my heart out of my body and still expects me to be 'myself' without it. My brain is foggy, my body aches and tears fall in streams from my face without a moment's notice.

I look at my little girl and wonder how this will change her.

Will she go into medicine someday, hoping to change the world?
Will she refuse to bare her midsection as a tween because she's ashamed of her scars?
Will she feel a strong dislike for doctors, the very people dedicated to making her well?

I look at my sons, and I can see how this has changed them.

Ethan screams when being left alone, begs for us to sleep with him, wakes 10+ times a night and says things like, "Mom be careful, Brookie is sick." Nolan is, once again, highly sensitive. He is crying more often, crawling into my lap at least once a day and looking at me with eyes that shout dissatisfaction and worry about the current state of our life.

And then I look at Jay and I.

It's awful.
We are shells.
Breathing, yes, but otherwise void of our usual zest for life.
We are pale, exhausted and hurting.
Laughter is infrequent. Silly jokes are missing.

Our love for each other remains unspoken.
We are partners in this journey.

When I am ok, he is not.
When I fall apart, he is strong.
Every ounce of our energy is being poured into our kids, leaving an empty bucket for each other. But that's ok, because we know we are in this together.

I came across a video today, and I feel like everyone needs to watch it.
It's time to stop the 'not doing' and get to doing.
Living.
Being.
Appreciating all that we have.
Losing the regrets.

The silver lining, in all of this, is becoming evident.

Hearing friends say, I've taken too much for granted.
Seeing neighbours spending quality time together as a family.
Feeling family members give so much of themselves, in the name of family.

It's incredible.

Too many of us worry incessantly about the next step in our careers at the expense of missed hockey games, first home runs and cups of coffee with dear friends. Too many of us have become overly concerned with the next big style trend, the brand of car in our driveway and the roots of our dyed hair.

But wait.
What if we looked again.

What if we let the silver lining shine a little brighter.

Notice the way a hug feels around our neck.
Take in the smell of our spouse when crawling into bed at night.
See the love our pets offer us without hesitation.

You see, as much as I cannot breathe right now, as much as my heart is broken into a million pieces, I know that there are lessons to be learned. I know that my life will be enriched by choosing mindfulness in my daily activities. In appreciating the kindness and love of others.

I want you to be part of the silver lining.
I never want you to go through this with your child.
But I want you to learn from us. 
Grow with us.
Find peace along side us.

I want to prove that all of this happened for a reason.
And I want to hear about what you've learned.

xo

#TeamBrookie #WarriorPrincess

The gift of mindfulness

On my way to bed tonight, I found myself tidying my home. Three kids, two dogs and two adults in one backsplit inevitably means something is out of place by the end of the night.

I tidied the closet and shut the door, acutely aware of the cute little jackets hanging inside.

I locked the door and slid the deadbolt in place, feeling grateful for my safe and secure home.

I walked up the stairs, into the bathroom to brush my teeth. My toothbrush was touching my husband's brush, and my immediate thought was how lucky I felt for the gift of his love each and every day.

Gratitude strikes me in unique moments;

When my oldest shows off his latest Lego creation, I watch his long eyelashes bounce around as he excitedly recalls the moment he found the missing piece he needed for completion.

As I settle into my daughter's bed for story time, I am drawn to her little fingers as they methodically move from word to word, page to page, determined to read to me, and not the other way around.

When my wee man, hot from crying, asks for a hug, I am overcome with joy that even a two year old realizes the value of human touch.

This is the gift of mindfulness.

It feels very much like gazing at a cherished photograph, perhaps a milestone moment, which instantly transports your body to a place of warm hearts and wide smiles. This gift, mindfulness, has released me from many of my daily fears, strengthened my soul in times of difficulty and, above all, has filled my spirit with deep affection for those most important to me.

“In mindfulness one is not only restful and happy, but alert and awake.
Meditation is not evasion; it is a serene encounter with reality.”   - Thích Nhất Hạnh

Try tuning in to your surroundings, to the mundane and busy moments that fill our every day lives. Notice the smells, noises, little eyes and careful notes left by your family, peers and mentors. Mindfulness will refocus your eyes on the love, hope and acceptance readily available to all of us.

xo