Jumping for joy.

Chapter One.

When I was about 5 years old, I thought I was Dale Evans.  (Vestiges of that remain as I am loathe to remove my cowboy boots generally from October through the end of April.  Then I prefer to be as close to barefoot as I can get.)

My parents were so on my wavelength that they bought a swingset with Trigger and Buttermilk as the slider seats.  I was in heaven.  The little boy down the street, whose name was Terry Joy, happily fulfilled the role of Roy Rogers.  If my memory serves correctly, he sported a cowboy hat, packed a plastic pistol, and wore rubber cowboy boots.  (In fact, the heel of one of those boots ended up in my mouth as I, patiently waiting for him at the bottom of the staircase at school, watched, mouth agape, as he slid down the banister.  Not stepping out of the way in time, I lost a front tooth and a little dignity.)

I don’t remember much about him after kindergarten.  He must have moved away.

Chapter Two.

Fast forward to this week. I was at Presence having a lively conversation with one of my customers.  She talked about how much she loved her palomino horse and I immediately went into a lovely reverie about Roy, Dale, Trigger, Buttermilk and Terry Joy.  I hadn’t thought of him in years.

The next day, another customer and I were talking about high-school reunions.  I said that I never went to them because I now lived on the west coast and most of my classmates were still back east. I didn’t keep in touch with enough of them to warrant my traveling back.  Besides, I joked, I didn’t want to be the only single one there.  She guffawed at that one and said, “Are you kidding? A lot of people go back and end up finding out that their childhood sweethearts are available and a lot of fabulous romances do get sparked.”

So, with my own personal Roy Rogers recently on my mind, and what sounded to me like a challenge from her, I said I would search for him on Facebook.

Chapter Two and a half.

So I found someone that could have been him.  Looked possible.  Lived back east, graduated about the same time I did, but didn’t mention Peterborough.

Okay.  I admit.  I was curious. I bit the bullet.  I wrote him and asked if by any chance he hailed originally from Peterborough.  Because if he did, then I told him I had a great story to share.  And, Terry (yes, you, the one who I know is reading this), you need to know that my motivation was not to spark a fabulous romance, but to answer a question about why I wanted to know where my Roy Rogers had gone. Was it just to get some reassurance that synchronicity is alive and kicking? Whatever… it was a strong enough impulse that I couldn’t not do it.

He wrote back and said he wasn’t from Peterborough originally, but that there was a family cottage close by.  Did that qualify to hear the story?  We are now friends on Facebook and I suspect that we will continue to communicate.  At least until he hears the tale!

Chapter Three.

I am going to send this to him.

Branded by unbridled joy,

Buns xo

Breaking All The Rules

I am not a fan of rules. As a matter of fact breaking them is part of my nature, you know that adolescent “You are not the boss of me….don’t tell me what to do”, way of reacting. So some may find it strange that in the book I am writing on internet dating I am creating a map for empowered and pleasurable interaction that you may consider rules.

It’s not that I don’t encourage following one’s intuition (the antithesis of rule following) its more that in the realm of romance, until one decides to wake up to the internal program we are wired with, often ruled by fairytales, projection and past experience, some external guidance could be helpful.


Think of it as a handbook of healthy guidance that considers male/female dynamics, as well as encourages you to get clear about your criteria when picking a partner. And you can’t get clear about what you want if you are not clear about who you are and what you are offering. I am my own guinea pig for this project as I observe my mental gymnastics in this field fraught with cultural conditioning. I am called to get very real and accountable, owning my own patterns of resistance…all implemented to avoid the pain of being hurt.
I see my process as one of dismantling the old and metamorphosis in the now. The working title of this book says it all. How To Turn Finding The One Into Finding Yourself.


And so my new adventure begins. We started communicating on my birthday.

 Rule number 1. Invite all of your senses into the process. He is very sweet looking, soulful, aware and lives just a few blocks away. In his profile he said he was looking for a woman who was true to herself. I resonated with that and with the depth of our exchanges. I felt tingles.

Rule number 2.  Talk on the phone. Ask questions and listen, really listen. Do an auditory check to see if there is a pull toward knowing more. This is not a date, say my rules. It is coffee to see if you want to have a date. Think of it like a process of discernment meant to ensure that you stay awake to what is driving you, as well as a rule to keep you safe.
Coffee was good…beautiful eyes. Check. He wants to set up a date for the weekend.

 Rule number 3. Do not take charge. You do not get to create the date. It’s important throughout the courtship process for masculine energy to feel like they are pursuing and leading. Your task is to stay inside yourself, soft and open and let him be in charge of making the next meeting happen. I used to have to work at this, now it has become natural. So far I am following my own rules.

Saturday dawns Indian summer sunny and as we rendezvous at the marina. 

Rule number 4.  Meet in a public place.  He then leads me into Stanley Park, a populated part.  Ok I suggest the exact spot on the sand but that doesn’t count as a rule break since he asked me to pick. He laid out a table cloth and a delicate spread of guava, figs and chocolate and offers red wine. Check, check, check. We had a lovely, soothing kind of day just sharing and meandering in conversation, soaking up sun until the tide turned and literally came splashing up to engulf my coral painted toes. He snaps a picture on his phone. Foot fetish? I hope so. Maybe my toes just look pretty? Maybe it’s not about me at all; he’s got a thing for tides? Wow, time had passed quickly.  He wants to walk me to my door and I let him.

Rule number 5.  Do not give out your last name or address on a first date.  Broken.
He offers to help me screw on the leg of my sofa that I had mentioned earlier was askew, I accept.

Rule number 6. Do not invite him into your home, do not meet alone. Broken.
We start with drinking water on the balcony until the words just magically slip out, “Would you like a cocktail?” 
Rule number 7. Broken. Avoid alcohol on a first date.

I lose track of which rule I am breaking as I continue to get to know him. He doesn’t get defensive when I ask probing questions.  He has an understanding of what to do in a relationship when there is struggle or conflict and he is just plain cute! And time plays tricks…suddenly it is dark and the sun has set. I realize I hadn’t enjoyed myself this much in ages. Nor have I been this authentic and vulnerable since Toronto with Paul. Not only is it dark out, the clock reads 10:30 pm and I realize I am hungry and I offer him a meal.

We barbeque a feast and before you know it it is 5 am. What!! The whole night had passed as we cocooned on the balcony talking. Yes…talking. That is one rule I will not be breaking. I will tell you more next time.

In retrospect I realize how lovely it feels to have no expectation or future flashing fantasies about all this. I was in the present moment, alive, laughing and loving the mystery of that alchemical connection that can occur between two people.
I think that is the key to breaking rules that were set up to keep you empowered. Make sure you ARE empowered and not being driven by a desired outcome.  Maybe I need to add that to the book under construction.

We have continued to see each other. Each time just as easy as the last. That is new for me. Feels like progress in the melting of my fairytale romance program, a program filled with good guys and bad guys.

 I do not know what this interaction with this human being is for. I do know I feel good and soft and open inside and when he says there are only two goals worth having, unconditional love and absolute vulnerability….he means it. I believe him.

So I surrender to radical curiosity and to honoring my goal, the only one I feel is worth having…authenticity...living from the core of who I am, owning all the parts of me that are a barrier to love.

Wish me luck.

Branded by surrender,
Marty

Between a rock and a soft place.

I have been profoundly moved. 

The young woman whom my son was very fond of for many years, got married a couple of weeks ago.  I was a guest. It was a perfect day.  Held in the “church of the great outdoors”, the ceremony was natural, honest, authentic, and joyous.  Prior to his passing, I had harboured the hope that she and Duncan would be the ones standing at the altar of lifetime promises.  The man who she chose is wonderful and I am very happy for the two of them.  They make an adorable and solid couple. It is an absolute “meant to be” and I look forward to being witness to their evolving as a couple and family.

When I arrived at the ceremony, one of the attendants handed me a little rock that the bride had painted.  It had Duncan’s name on it and a little star.  It was so he could be there and sit with me.  I still well up with emotion at the beauty, depth and simplicity of her gesture.  I will never forget that tenderness.

So where did this all take me inwardly?  The entire weekend was held at a place where we as a family would go on summer trips with friends.  It was nostalgic being there even if there were no nuptials to attend. While I was thrilled on the one hand to be there, the weekend also served to nudge me into a deeper “thawing” of my still pent-up sadness. 

Rather than shy away from feeling what I was feeling (after all, haven’t I done all this already? Haven’t I done well processing my grief?), I let it in.  And what I found was that I didn’t harden around it so as to protect my aching heart.  I softened, and realized that I could have Duncan in such a bigger way if I just stop trying to manage my process.

That little rock sits by a picture of Duncan.  When I hold it, I swear he is telling me to stay soft and open.

And, just a couple of days ago, I had the luxury of spending some time with my 16-month-old godson.  What joy to have him scamper into my bedroom first thing in the morning so we could make a fort with the pillows and then snuggle in.  He brought back some treasured memories.

Ain’t love grand.

Branded by softness,

Buns xoxox

Birthday Shadows

Here is what I love about birthdays…they resurrect buried feelings from childhood. Here is what I hate about birthdays…they resurrect buried feelings from childhood.

I don’t know how to escape it nor do I really want to but I recognize that the day one is born and how that is celebrated in one’s family of origin is a day that as kids we personalize and interpret, making it mean something about ourselves and the world. It’s as if we are imprinted with this (usually incorrect) message and now when birthdays roll around it is activated.

How we respond to that activation is a matter of awareness and choice.

Some people minimize birthdays or even ignore them.”It’s no big deal”, they say.
Others are sensitive and hyper alert, making meaning of every interaction. (Yes that would be me)
There is a stigma in being sensitive; it’s often called high maintenance while downplaying the celebration is held as a sign of humility.

Neither is true.

Birthdays ARE important AND offer great opportunities to go deeper into oneself. They are not calling to be minimized OR maximized. They are calling one to awareness, to enter and feel one's shadow. Certainly that is the loudest invitation that I am hearing.

It used to be only a whisper, “what people say or do means nothing about you” and yet the little one in me would feel alone and yearn for a different story, a story filled with good company that accepts her.

Today I am happy to say she has good company that will never let her down or judge her or leave her alone again.

 Me!

 As long as I allow the feelings to arise and can accept and love this part of myself I find I open softly into the present moment and can open to life. Celebrating oneself to me means accepting all parts of oneself, dark and light, wounded and awake. This life is not about getting rid of aspects we don’t like or judging them. It IS about loving them so the unhealed aspects of self can grow up and transform into an experience of wholeness.

I have a friend who is just beginning her journey of getting to recognize that the hurt part of her is quite young and is calling for a response, not from the world or lovers or family, but from herself. This young aspect yearns for recognition, gentleness, unconditional love and acceptance. Sadly we look to the world searching for those things from other people. That is such a set up. One will always be disappointed because that void in us can only be filled with the light that is already in us. This setup, which I call Divine is meant to invite the knowledge that there is a part of us always whole and perfect and nothing we do can ever change that. We are invited to identify and act as this radiant essence as it enters the darkness.

 I love watching her shift and learn to nurture what she yearns for from without…internally. Her process reminds me to do the same. It reminds me that we ARE ALL THE SAME. The human condition is universal.  Spirit in a human body with all our human frailties.

I am not big on “oh I have learned that and I am done”. As long as I am in a human body I will continue learning, healing, being with all parts of me and having the courage to reveal the most tender and vulnerable. That really is the hardest part. As long as theses parts remain in the dark, hidden from view, the message is you are not worth knowing or being seen.

As soon as I feel, accept and reveal them I am saying yes… I have this part and it is not who I truly am. All of me is acceptable, even the part that feels unacceptable.

And with that level of authenticity I am able to give fully. What better time to be a gift than on one’s birthday. What better time to honor others by receiving their gifts of love. Letting love in is often much scarier than giving it, at least I feel that for myself.

 So today I choose to open to love, within and without.  As cliché as it sounds love IS a choice. And love calls for giving and receiving at the same time


Ok universe…bring it on!!  I am off to generate mischief!

Still branded by Love,
Marty

I call him Rumi.

Did you know that I have my own personal Rumi? Because of him, I have had a major breakthrough.  And yes, it has felt more like a breakdown at times.  Where do I start? Like Marty last week, I’m reluctant to put this into words, lest some of it gets lost in the vernacular. Yet at the same time, for me it has been so profound that I know it is to be shared. I’m quite sure I am not alone in this.

A few months ago, I offered a friend of mine a place to stay while he sorted out his personal life. We have known each other for almost five years and have grown quite close on almost every level (read – no snogging) and we enjoy each other’s company immensely.  He is highly intelligent, creative, entertaining, a good cook, very kind, easy on the eyes, passionate about music, and comes with a surprisingly similar set of issues as mine.  We have always been drawn to each other in a magnetic way and that’s how I recognize that our relationship is karmic.  It’s perfect.  We make each other cry, we call each other on our shit, we listen well to each other, we hold space for each other while we process pieces, and we are constantly teasing out the truth behind the truth behind the truth.  In short, we don’t let each other get away with a thing.  And we are both evolving rapidly at the moment.  A spiritual fast track if you will.

“Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.”

Rumi

So what was he to show me?  He was out late one night and I had grown quite used to his being around.  Out of the blue came this desperate feeling of abandonment.  I couldn’t sleep.  I had this horrible sense of desertion that was so disproportionate to reality.  The next morning he could see that I was still upset and was quick to sit down and help me find out what it was all about.  What we realized was that he had inadvertently ignited that deep gut-wrenching feeling when you lose someone you love (e.g. my son Duncan).  It was a revelation that helped me get to our karmic core.

Over the next few days, I sat with this feeling and was able to come to a greater understanding of a past life that we shared.  This is where it gets difficult to put into words… and I do take a couple of quantum leaps here, so bear with me…

We clearly had met in a past life.  We were in a relationship where he couldn’t commit completely to me.  As a result, I carried a belief that no one would ever commit to being in a relationship with me. I wasn’t worth it.  Not good enough.  Blah, blah, blah. I continued to search relentlessly for what I had come to believe was impossible… someone to love me, truly, madly, deeply.

At the same time, I thought that if I ever committed to being in a relationship with someone, that meant I was losing out on the possibility of other love that might be better than what was in front of me.  A sort of quantity vs. quality kind of quest.  I saw commitment as being limiting vs. its being an opportunity to nourish something beautiful. 

“A thousand half-loves must be forsaken to take one whole heart home.”

Words of Paradise: Selected Poems of Rumi

Next came this.  What if I made a commitment to myself?  Mmm.  Now there was a thought.  And not just pay lip-service to self acceptance, but actually fuel a far deeper relationship with myself than I had ever considered attainable before.  At this point I was with reach of a huge piece… I could feel it…

If I could do that, I would not have to suffer loss of love because love would always be there. 

When that realization hit me, and then percolated throughout my body, I had a frisson of excitement. It has been a huge shift in my inner world that has helped to heal some pretty significant pieces.

“Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.”

Rumi

Branded by karma,

Buns xo

P.S.  Just in case you’re reading this Rumi, I’ll be out late tonight.  It’s Marty’s birthday and we’re doing it up right tonight!

Heart Whispering

We are so lucky. I am standing at the edge of the forest listening to the trees talking. They don’t speak the same language at home in British Columbia. Here in Northern Ontario when the breeze blows the trees sway and whisper secrets that stir my soul. My senses are so alive of late. I wonder how I never noticed this magical communication so vividly before.

The lake is still, unbroken glass calling me to break its surface with surrender into calm. Is there any companion greater than nature when one’s heart is cracked wide open?

When I was 18 I met a boy and our story was never completed.  He was a romantic memory, one that resurrected in a recent conversation and prompted a Google search to see if I could locate him. Easy enough and after a few playful messages to see if he could guess who the voice from the past was, we connected this week in Toronto. I seem to hesitate in sharing the story with you all perhaps because I fear losing its importance by making it mundane with words. But I shall try.

I was breaking up with a boyfriend of 2 years. It was the 1970’s and we were homesteading in Prince Edward Island, living in a cabin with a grass floor covered with a Persian rug. Two goats inhabited a hut made of straw by the organic garden; it was a hippie wannabe’s delight. But the relationship was over and I was parked in a car on the dirt road in rural PEI bracing myself for the inevitable tears. The boy behind the wheel was named Paul and this story is about our connection and fate and the oddness of ships passing in the night.

I ended one relationship and moved into my future... back into the car where Paul waited patiently. My tears were of the sobbing variety, breaking up is hard to do, even if you know it’s the right thing. Paul did not say a word. He placed his hand on mine and drove straight to the beach. He opened my car door and taking my hand pulled me onto the white expanse of sand, and straight into the blue Atlantic water. As waves crashed over our heads, he kissed me.
And here is why this has remained one of the most romantic moments of my life.

He did not take his wallet out of his pocket.

He did not take off his watch.

 The message I received was, there is nothing more important than this moment.
 There is nothing as important as you.

We spent the night on the beach sleeping on the Persian rug with a bottle of Rothschild red that has never been surpassed in its velvet smoothness and juicy silk glow. Many years passed as our story later continued in Toronto, always in the middle of evolving, never finished, never truly begun.

Cut to 2012.

Thirty years have passed and he was picking me up at noon for lunch. He hadn’t changed. My body remembered the intimacy, the scent, his voice, his Irish humor, the white of his shirt against tanned skin. I am a sucker for men in white linen.  All I will say is I was more myself in his presence that I have been with anyone for a long while. I was transparent and offered information that I had previously withheld because I was protecting my vulnerability and wanting to appear cool.  I was happy to be so alive and engaged and present in myself and also to realize that the risk I was taking in being fully seen called for no response from him. I was me because I am me and a cover of defense and bravado was no longer an option.

My spirit knows his soul. He is in the midst of awakening to himself and being true to his principles. I am glad.  I am sad. But it’s a luscious kind of sad for what could have been or perhaps for what might be. I don’t know and living in the unknown is where I am most fully alive. I don’t know what this meeting is for at this time. Not really. I can play with figuring it out. Why now, what is the purpose of this intense contact at this precise moment in our evolution?  As he said, if we had met even 10 months ago he would not have understood the depth of our interaction nor even understood  the spiritual component of our conversation. Yet as we laughed and as we cried I opened and both received and radiated love that was beyond content, beyond the story, beyond outcome.

 As Kahil Gibran said “Beauty is not in the face: beauty is a light in the heart. "

And tears shine as brightly as smiles.

I am so lucky as I breathe in the whispering birch, so full….letting  my senses mark me and spin me on the tightrope of risk.

Branded by love.

Authentically Yours,

Marty

By the time I get to Phoenix.

First thing tomorrow morning, I’m heading to Arizona with a great group of friends. My BFFs Jolanta, and Marty (of course!) will be part of this not-so-motley crew.  Adventure beckons – one of personal exploration and growth. 

For me, this is a time of letting go of beliefs that don’t serve me any more, and being open to new ideas around what success really means to me.

One of my favourite poems has fuelled me for many years…

To laugh often and much;


To win the respect of intelligent people
and the affection of children;


To earn the appreciation of honest critics
and endure the betrayal of false friends;

To appreciate beauty, to find the best in others;


To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child,
a garden patch or a redeemed social condition;


To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived.


This is to have succeeded.*

And I truly live by this as fully as I can.  In spades. But I know there is more to it.  What is it that I would walk over hot coals to accomplish? What keeps me going?  What makes me aim higher?  What is it that will make me break through those subtle barriers of disbelief – those mental speed bumps? I want to know.  That is why I am going to Phoenix. I’m going to find my “why”. 

I will be surrounded by like-minded people, all of whom are going to be inspired by Jack Canfield and other motivational speakers.  It is the 10-year anniversary of Isagenix, a company for which I have great respect.  A celebration is called for and I am really excited to be a part of it.  My plan is to grow my nutritional business far beyond what I believed to be possible when I first began, and this gathering will help me forge ahead.

What of Presence, you ask? Well, it is still a lovely little oasis festooned with jewels, clothing, and funky accessories, and it is a creation of mine that makes me smile.  I hope it’s there for a long time. There’s a lot of joy and laughter that flows in and out of the place, and yet that’s not a currency that covers all my bills.  I want to continue growing Presence in Horseshoe Bay and have a thriving secondary income… also stemming from helping people feel great about themselves, getting healthier, and aging with grace and beauty.  Enter Isagenix. I know I’m on to a good thing here.

I had to stop writing for a bit here to start getting ready... fast forward to this morning...

I’ve just arrived at Jolanta’s place and we’re getting ready to hit the road.  Picking up Marty on the way, driving to Bellingham, doing a little shopping if we have some time, then on to Phoenix.

Contrary to current thinking, what happens in Phoenix is NOT staying in Phoenix.  Stay tuned!

Branded by enthusiasm,

Buns xo

*This has often been attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson, although some believe that it was written by Bessie Stanley in 1905, albeit with slightly different wording.