My Dad and his Korea.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my Dad lately.  He is 88 years old and is facing the physical and cognitive challenges that can manifest at that age.  I realized that throughout my entire life, while I’ve always told him I loved him every time I see him, I have never really told him why.  So last week, I sent my Mom this note…

Hi Mommsie… I was sitting and thinking this morning that I wanted to send an email to Dad that you could read to him.  I thought he might like to hear why his eldest daughter thinks the world of him.

He taught me how to laugh.  And be silly.  

He showed me how to make other people feel really good about themselves – especially when he first would meet them.  He always talks about other people in superlatives.  He always finds what is best about other people and describes them that way.

He remembers people and what matters to them.

He followed his dream to fly.  To have a cottage on an island (which will always be one of my favourite places on the planet).

He gave me my love of music.  I can picture his hands playing hymns on the piano.  I can hear him in the car singing "Home on the Range" with all of us chiming in in harmony.  I can see us all doubled up in laughter as he himself would have to pull over to the side of the road because he too was laughing so hard. I love how he was always fascinated by church organs.

He shows me how to love.  And he loves you to bits.  And I, for one, am glad he picked you to be my Mom. And I know he loves each of us too.  (And one of the tenderest moments that I ever shared with Dad was the first time I saw him after Duncan died.  He just sat beside me and held my hand without saying a word.  I will never forget that moment as long as I live.  It meant so much to me.)

I am afraid that if I don't tell him all this now, he might not appreciate it as much a year or two down the road.  

Just thinking about how lucky I am and wanted to say so.

LOVE you both kazillions.  

My Dad has lived an extraordinary life so far.  He was born in Korea (my grandparents were medical missionaries there) so thus began a lifetime of incredible adventures and long-lasting stories to tell us as we were growing up.

So when Marty suggested that our next adventure be a visit to a Korean spa, I jumped at the chance.  I wanted to continue my reverie and homage to my Dad and this was a perfect way to do so.

We arrived and took our shoes off before we went in. For the tiny sum of $15, we were given a t-shirt and shorts, two towels the size of postage stamps and were invited to follow the arrow to the women’s area.  We appeared to be two of the only three Caucasians in the place, which to me was a great sign of authenticity.  This was a real Korean gathering place!  We found someone who explained to us the ways of the spa and we dove in.  First, a hot, soapy shower to have a clean start. Then to a steam bath, cold dunk tank, dry sauna, cold dunk tank, hot tub, cold dunk tank – in whatever order felt good. I enjoyed the lovely gentle energy of the Korean women there.  It was peaceful and cleansing in more ways than one.

Then it was off to the main attraction for us… the Salt Room.  After donning our tees and shorts, we went for a nap on a giant bed of heated salt crystals. You enter quietly, choose a space to lie down, and you sleep amongst the other men and women.  You could feel the toxins being invited to leave your body.  Next was the Yellow Soil Room which supports further toxin release through far-infrared and herbs.  It was okay but I didn’t have the same visceral response to it. The last room was the Charcoal Room.  Again, you find a place to lie down and doze off.  Both Marty and I fell into an incredibly deep sleep and woke up about half an hour later rather stunned at the depth of rest.

The grand finale included sitting in a lounge to watch Korean soap operas and comedy shows, or order Korean food from the cafeteria where you could also play board games. 

It was quite a day.  And as much as I loved the amenities and the different treatments available, I equally savoured being surrounded by the Korean culture and was able to envision to some extent what my Dad must have felt when he was welcomed into the world within their culture.

It was an absolutely lovely way to connect deeply with my Dad and his heritage.  I love you Dad…

Branded by authenticity,

Buns xo

The Journey in Color

I am doing this very cool process where you enter the body, feel whatever is predominant and then just drop through to the next layer. This kind of work, is not new to me but the current attitude I am approaching it with, is. Rather than mining the feeling as it arises complete with story, ( which in the past I found helped me intensify the feeling) this time I just allow it, name it, notice where it lives in my body and drop through to what is underneath.

 My ego doesn’t like that. It wants to hang out so I can explore all the details. The thing is, without the story the process is so quick. It can be done anywhere, anytime in a matter of minutes.

This kind of exploration always brings awareness that the conscious mind could not have come up with. For instance a few days ago I found a very unfamiliar feeling in my body… jealousy. I have a history of female friends being jealous of me and while professing mad love, then betray me but I haven’t often felt it myself, in myself. This was exciting!

The jealous feeling occurred when I caught myself comparing and deemed lacking. Rather than milk the story, meaning focus on the content of the present, I instead felt the feeling, named it, and sensed where it lived in my body …and then dropped through. Underneath was sadness…then the next layer, confusion…then loss.

Suddenly a picture appears of being four years old. I was like a little doll that would get dressed up with matching outfits that my mother would create. Innovative, unusual and fashion forward, we were a pair until the day when my mom took me to a barber and my lovely locks got chopped. I ended up with a dreadful boys bowl cut and I felt ugly.

I compared myself to my beautiful mother and internalized a belief about my own worth that was just not true. That belief, just as all our beliefs then gets stored in our cellular memory and while one may recall snippets of childhood actually resurrecting the feeling state when the incorrect belief was stored in the cells, is imperative if you want to change it.

 I know this may sound like a little thing but what is amazing is that the process is the same whether you are uncovering a belief stored in the memory of a trauma or something as innocuous as a haircut.

People will often decide logically that a belief about themselves is not true and think that is enough and yet until we journey back to the event and its inherent feelings we do not actually change anything, only learn to over ride it. Overriding takes a lot of energy and frankly I would rather a few minutes of authentic feeling no matter how messy than a lifetime of repressing a belief that no longer serves me.

More free time for disco parties…yes disco! I just got back from an 8 year olds bash complete with laser show and afro wigs and headbands. Playing is ever so much fun!

Branded by the journey,

Authentically Yours,

Marty

The empty head and the open mind.

Wow. This has been an exciting couple of weeks!  And I was very much anticipating writing my post this morning to tell you all that has been happening.  I had a gazillion wonderful things to talk about, lots of witty little bon mots, great ideas for pictures, and zap!  I woke up this morning and it felt like my hard drive had been erased.  Blank.  Gone.  Nada.

So what’s going on?  I am in the middle of a wonderful little book, Shift Happens, by Dr. Robert Holden.  It is full of “essential lessons and practices from the world’s leading coaching program on authentic success”.  Of course, that’s right up my alley, anything that fits into the self-improvement genre usually grabs my attention – especially if it has been recommended by a friend.  I got to a chapter that quite blew my mind.  It said self improvement was not the same as self acceptance.  And yes, I know, it seems like a no-brainer (pun intended) but seriously, I had never distinguished between those two before.  For years I have been intensely interested in self-improvement, thinking that upon “graduating”, I would receive my diploma in self acceptance.   Wrong.  I am smack-dab in the middle of realizing that self acceptance is not something you work towards, or do.   It is something you have.  A state of being.  A direct connection with your higher Self where acceptance isn’t even a question.  I am gobsmacked.  I’m reeling from this perspective.  Oh, the possibilities of ease! The freedom from self-recrimination! What!  You mean I can actually just have a relationship with moi that is wholesome, gentle, loving, where I’ve got my own back?  Where I am my biggest cheerleader?  OMG.

Yes. OMG. OMFG! If I can have this, then of course I can have a relationship with another person with the same adjectives.  And as the Universe would have it, I found myself in a “relationship” class with my meditation group yesterday.  (I really did not want to go but knew that my “not wanting” was a signal that I needed to attend the class.)  My history with these grad classes is that whenever the topic was on relationship, I wouldn’t sign up.  I didn’t want to find out what I was doing wrong.  I had pretty much closed the door on opening up my heart (and life) to the possibility of being with anyone again.  I decided it was best for me to just get bloody used to the idea that I would die alone and be okay with that.  I was quite happy to repress any thoughts about wanting to be with someone. But all that came crumbling down yesterday in our class. Throughout the day, the exercises and meditations led me to a dénouement of sorts, where I came into contact with my deep desire to be with someone.  It brought me to tears.  It awakened a sweet yearning that I knew was true.  So I’m spending some time here getting used to me.  The real me.

I think what happened when I sat down to write this morning is that I was shifting.  From reverse, to neutral, and now as I am talking to you, into first gear at least.

Yep.  Shift happens.

Branded by the open road (and an open mind),

Buns xo

Things That Go Mmmm In The Night

Better joy in a cottage than sorrow in a palace. This was the descriptor under a cocktail called English Cottage which was a potent blend of fresh mint, gin, rhubarb and soda on crushed ice.

Buns, the little mischief maker, co- adventurer in creativity and fabulous fierce friend on this long distance triathlon of life was having a birthday. Gastown in Vancouver has become a haven of tantalizing food spots as well as a mecca of mixologists who take the creation of cocktails to an art form. What better way to celebrate the vixen.

·        We headed to Blood Alley excited to indulge at Boneta, our first time at the new location.

·        BONETA LOVES YOU will give you all the info you need.

We shared everything, as is our nature and started with English pea soup with seared scallops and lemon crème fraiche. Pure heaven even without the simple freshly baked bread that we inhaled before our soup got to the table. Then carpaccio with arugula, quail eggs and shaved parmesan followed by smooth melt in your mouth Gnocchi. We had decided to order a la carte instead of the 3 course set menu and enjoyed every mouthful.

My only complaint really was the after dinner latte. Part of a good latte is the container it comes in and their cups were so tiny you couldn’t put your finger through the handle. Not sexy! Give me a bowl any day.

 And then the noise. Will anyone ever design a restaurant in Vancouver where you can have an intimate conversation?

The buzz is great if people watching is one of your extracurricular activities but not so fine for actually hearing. Maybe you have enough Heidi in you that you don’t mind yodeling across the table but it's not my thing. I prefer perfecting the sultry purrs that the human voice is capable of.  

 Mmmm…look over there; I think I am crushing a little.   

WHAT?

Crushing... table behind you... to the left.

WHAT did you say? Cushion? You want a cushion?

It was not easy to get deep, but we managed.  

We talked about the current dismantling we are both experiencing in our lives. Buns has had such physical upheavals and mine have been identity and emotion based.

I am dissolving an identity that I rather liked, a woman keen to understand human nature, my own and others and passionate about extending support to those who want expansion in their lives. As I let go of the need to know and invite acceptance of what is, even if I don’t understand it… I seem to be softening…mellowing…breathing ,like an uncorked red. I sincerely hope it will still be robust and full bodied when ready to drink.

At times it’s so odd that I am left with a feeling of space in my solar plexus. "Fill it with your essence," says Buns, easy peasy…just do it now.   And I do, although with all the food it’s hard to tell if it’s true essence or the Foole Tart with poached rhubarb and vanilla ice cream.

And while I enjoyed a splendid evening there was a kind of gentleness to it that felt different than my usual experience of high intensity interactions where pushing the envelope in many directions feels like sparking an internal flame. It's like I am on a train and it has a direction, I am on it, just not in charge of it...not in control of it.

And I let go of the idea that my spark is somehow dampened and instead trust that in this time of transition I simply have not been shown yet the way my essence wants to translate itself out into the world.  In this moment it is calling for surrender and relaxation. After all Chill Marty sounds like a lovely lounge to have a connected calm conversation in. And fires can soothe and warm as well as ignite and roar.

Here’s to allowing what will be to be and to remembering that freedom from construct is a liberating experience.

Branded by falling apart and softening.

Authentically Yours,

Marty

Knit one, purl whatever.

After an action-packed month, filled with packing, moving, rehearsing, having a great family visit, putting on a show, unpacking, reopening the store (you know – the usual), I am feeling just a wee bit burnt out.  Yesterday, I decided to take the day for myself – yep, right in the middle of a long weekend – closed the store to look after me. 

Thanks to my good friend Mimi, I was lucky enough to enjoy a massage and facial at The Horseshoe Bay Laser and Beauty Clinic (http://www.horseshoebaylaser.com).  Afterwards, I promptly went home, donned my most fetching flannel jammies, curled up on the couch, watched probably the worst movie I’ve seen in a long time and cried my head off.  It was just what I needed.  I realized I had been fending off a considerable level of stress and yesterday was the day to take it all in, experience it, and let it go.  (Marty – I really did try to write this post yesterday but my mind was not co-operating!)

Today, I find myself sitting in my new digs, pouring rain outside (of course it is, it’s the long weekend!), wondering if anyone will wander in to browse, chat, or acquire a lovely little memento of their visit here. I am also in the process of (don’t read this next part Susannah) knitting a baby sweater.  It’s super cute, a fisherman’s pullover that will be adorable when I get it done.  If I ever get it done!

I don’t know what it is about this little garment.  I am a very experienced knitter and yet I have had to rip out the &%*@# thing several times now to get it right.  I’m frustrated, impatient, and mad because I am clearly not understanding what the pattern is demanding of me.  So I have stopped for a bit so I can see what this little green pile of recycled cotton yarn is trying to tell me.

And here’s what it said (or sang, rather.  Sounded a little like Morcheeba…)

Take your time now
Feel like standing still
Get your bearings until
When the day is through
All you got to do is slow down
When the day is through
All you got to do is slow down

Full of tension

’Cause you love the chase
You just need your 
own space

When the day is through
All you got to do is slow down
When the day is through
All you got to do is slow down


When you've had enough
Of the faster stuff just slow down
When you're sick from stress
Bust up in a mess slow down 
(insert hot guitar solo here)
When the day is through
All you got to do is slow down
When the day is through
All you got to do is slow down

When it's hot up there
And you got no air, slow down
You just need some time
To fall back in line
Slow down down down down down

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CHlU5D0iAYQ

Branded by relaxation,

Buns xo

Remembering

We are celebrating some important birthdays with music and memories. It’s been four years since Duncan’s passing and the annual gathering that unites his family and friends in music and honors both his memory and his big brothers birthday is an event that is inspired by depth and laced with feeling.

 His guitar and love of music was such a passion of his, bringing people together was just a natural gift, and living full out was the fuel that kept him shining.

One of my favorite Duncan moments was a weekend on the Sunshine Coast where we met up at a cottage I had rented on the lake. As my friend and I unpacked food from our car, the boys were unpacking beer from theirs. And it kept coming and coming and coming. Once the fridge was full to capacity the deck was getting stocked…a never ending supply of coolers, and ice and beer.
“Really, I said….there is no way you two are going to drink all this.”

Duncan shrugged and gave that sweet smile that was so full of living in the moment, so full of twinkle. I always felt his capacity to live large, to be spontaneous, and to go for it without fear or measure.

And so it began, 3 days of boating and feasting and singing late into the night. Dunc’s guitar playing was stellar, our drumming and singing…not so much. But it didn’t matter. Not to him, not to us. What we all loved was the joining and sharing and howling late late into the dark until the morning light began to break through the aubergine sky.

I told them not to go boating without life jackets. No one listened. I told them boating is like driving, you can’t drink and drive. No one listened. I wasn't the best authority figure I admit. But they did discuss their moms one night, and I hold that memory dear. Buns and I had only met briefly once or twice at that point. Duncan was so protective of his mother with lots of strong opinions and a clear love that shone through every word, every nuance, every story he shared. Their connection was fierce.


Duncan is a treasure that is missed and yet will always continue to whisper. His inspiration calls on us to be all that we can be, to live full out, and to never, ever, let fear drive the boat. He reminds us that to be swept up by the adventure of the present moment, as he was, is the only way to fully celebrate and revel in life.

 He reminds us to be grateful!

Today and always I open to that honor.

Albert Einstein once said there are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle. Duncan always chose door number two.

Thank you Duncan. Thank you for being you.


Branded by remembering,


Authentically yours,
Marty
                                           

Sittin' in the morning sun.

I came to my store early this morning to try and get as much done before I fly out the door for a mid-afternoon gig today.  I want to re-open tomorrow and I know that’s a pretty ambitious goal.  In one week, we packed an entire inventory, moved it all across the street and put it all in to a place that’s half the size, all while my son Sean was giving our new location a facelift.  It was hard work and we’re not done yet, but the incredible help that came out of the woodwork (so to speak!) was heartwarming.

Because my full attention has been on this move, I almost forgot to stop and smell the roses.  I did however, stop and smell the coffee next door at Flour Bakery and yes, I succumbed, not once, but several times to the tempting aroma of the fresh, made-from-scratch cinnamon buns.  I have definitely made the right move! 

To be honest, I don’t have a whole lot to say.  I’m taking a little breather before I dig in. I am sitting out front, taking in the sounds of a village waking up on a sleepy Sunday morning.  The sun is shining, the birdsong is in full swing, cherry blossoms are in glorious bloom, sprinkling pink snowflakes when a gust of wind comes up. It’s really beautiful. 

As I sit here, my thoughts also go to what I have left behind.  At first, I felt like I was leaving my safety net – one that I had created around me to soften the blow of Duncan’s passage.  As I have had time to take this in, I realize I am actually ready to take a further step in letting go of my constructs.  What I am realizing with such a warmth in my heart, is that it actually allows me to be closer to him without all the other “stuff” getting in the way.  It’s time. And it’s timely.

Next weekend, we are hosting the fifth annual McPhee Brothers’ Birthday Bash, honouring both Sean and Duncan with music.  Friends and family join us from far and wide and it truly is a lovefest.  I can’t wait.

And as luck would have it, I have scored the most awesome castle on the water so I can house my guests for the week.  When it comes to housesitting (or castle sitting) I do have horseshoes.

Sorry for the rambling.  Lots goin’ on. 

Branded by cherry blossoms,

Buns.

P.S.  I’m almost afraid to list names here because there are so many to thank for their help this week.  I might forget some but here goes… Sean, Mary, Marty, Michelle, Karen, Donna, Laura, two Marks, Glen, two Blairs, two Bruces, Farris, Nick, Tina, Vicki, Emma, Albert, Lawrence, Neil, and Al.  For those of you that I missed, my gratitude is no less sincere.

And now, for your listening pleasure… http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UCmUhYSr-e4