What’s love got to do with it?

Everything.

I couldn’t figure out why I was inflicted with a pretty serious case of “writer’s block” for the past week and a half.  I kept putting off writing my post because I couldn’t come up with anything that I thought was worthy of your time.  I also had a hunch that there was something I was being beckoned to ponder but I didn’t want to go there. What if I found something I wasn’t prepared to look at?

Then on Sunday, I happened to run into a long-time friend and we got around to talking about this blog. I asked him if he had ever read it and he said he hadn’t, and proceeded to tell me why.  What an eye-opening (heart-opening?) conversation that was!

Let’s start with the fact that we enjoy each other’s company even though we have never dated. He is very bright and perceptive, and we have meaningful conversations.  He’s not afraid to go deep, make tough observations, and in short, call a spade a spade… sometimes a tad less delicately than I’m comfortable with, but nonetheless, brutally honest.

His reason was that if my blog is a “tell-all”, then who would want to be my partner when there’s no room left for private information, just between the two of us? I assured him that there were some things that I haven’t published (have I mentioned my tattoo?) but still, he was pointing at something that rang a bell for me. And I am really grateful for his candor.

Here’s my takeaway from our tête-à-tête… he had also referred to my ability to connect really well with a large group of people when I’m performing. And I also suddenly remembered what I had said about Molly of the Beachcombers in a previous post… that I resonated with her because of her public persona but didn’t give much thought to her private life. Am I unattached by choice? Do I believe that I am getting all the love I could ever want or need from a very large group of people, vs. “the one”? Am I crowd-sourcing my love to hedge my bets and avoid nakedness (on all levels)?

I think I am. Way safer to be loved by many than by one. Fear of loss? You bet. All the things I am afraid of are taken care of when I garner affection from many. Safety in numbers.  Don’t have to be completely visible and vulnerable in a crowd. I’ve got it made! Yeah. Sure.

And while I’m writing this, I realize there’s a third option and that’s the possibility of having it all.  It’s not a case of one or the other.

Love. Is. Everything.

Branded by it.

Love Buns

P.S.  And yes, back in the day, I did perform this song many times!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kcj2OyqU1Zs

Blinded by the Light

I just finished a weekend training called Rock the Stage with Karen Mcgregor. It was a jam packed, info laden, edge of your seat marathon that invited entrepreneurs to develop one signature talk that they would deliver.

Some people were conquering their fear of speaking on stage, others their inner critics. For me the challenge came in choosing what to talk about. I had so many tracks, so many topics that I felt overwhelmed. I understood that once you learned the structure you could apply it to other topics so you could have a number of signature talks but I wanted this one to be the quintessential one. And that attachment had my head spinning. I would come home after a full day and work till midnight only to wake up knowing I would throw away what I had written the day before and start again. I watched myself bounce from elation to crankiness as I wrestled with landing in ONE topic.

They all rested on a similar foundation, that lasting change can only occur if one is inhabiting and feeling fully in the body but to make the topic as juicy as I wanted, had me spinning.

Once again the impermanence of life reminded me of what was important. My friend Andrew read a letter from his 18 year old son Daniel on our last day of the workshop to inspire us. Daniel had written the letter to himself three days before he died. Dear Self, he began. As Daniels words landed in my heart, I was touched and awed at his wisdom, at the knowing that could radiate from such a young man with such an old soul. He reminded me of the art of appreciation, loving the present moment exactly as it is. He reminded me of the power of gratitude and showed me how contagious excitement and a positive edge is. He reminded me of the beauty of tenderness and curiosity as he invited life to mark him through nature. Daniels life was short but it was inspired and flowed with grace.   

As I took the stage to start my signature talk I knew my opening words were sparked by his spirit.

 “A palliative care nurse made a list of the five things people regret as they are dying. The first is not living the life they wanted but rather the life others expected of them. The second is not feeling all their feelings and expressing them. The third is working too hard. The fourth is not maintaining deep friendships and the last was not choosing to be happy more often.”

I smiled inside as I continued my talk knowing that Daniel did not have even one of those regrets. He had lived his young life with full abandon relishing each new adventure and welcoming the dawn of every day.

 Elisabeth Kubler-Ross saw death as a graduation like a butterfly shedding its cocoon as it transitions to a new beginning. I know for me death has been a profound teacher, a mirror that makes sure I look at myself and live true, live real.

As Kubler-Ross says, “It is not the end of the physical body that should worry us. Rather, our concern must be to live while we’re alive-to release our inner selves from the spiritual death that comes with living behind a façade designed to conform to external definitions of who and what we are.”

Somehow I feel certain that Daniel already knew that.

Branded by light:

Authentically Yours,

Marty

http://karenmcgregor.ca/events/quantumleapspeaking/

Are you sitting down?

Normally I post every other week, but I asked Marty if I could do a sequel to last week’s “The magic of Molly”.  This just couldn’t wait.

Let’s start with a dog named Dudley. He arrived in our household twenty years ago when his owner was no longer able to care for him. I thought the boys might like to have a pet.  It didn’t take long to realize that this just wasn’t going to work.  Great dog.  Wrong household.  One day I heard that our neighbours’ Bart the Wonder Dog had been hit by a car on the highway and they were devastated.  I picked up the phone that very day and said to them, “this could be the most insensitive phone call you’ve ever received, or the most well timed, but I have a dog that desperately needs a better home. They arrived 10 minutes later and for years afterwards were grateful that I had offered Dudley to them.

Next stop on our timeline… 6 months ago. I had already begun to formulate a vision of my dream wheels – a turquoise, convertible Mini – and wondered if there even existed such a car.  I walked down to a local restaurant for our weekly business association meeting, and there, out front, was a Mini.  A turquoise, convertible, 6-speed Mini! I was stunned.  I took the picture because I wanted to have it on my phone and put it on my vision board. When I walked inside the restaurant, I looked around to see if I could match the car with the owner.  The only person I knew was Dudley’s “dad” from way back when, but I didn’t get a chance to talk to him as I had to chair the business meeting. When we were finished, I looked around to see if he was still there, but he had left.  And I didn’t even know if the Mini was his.

In the meantime, the search for my Mini intensified.  I contacted the dealerships around town, and some of them told me it would be like finding a needle in a haystack. Others said that colour didn’t exist.  I sent them my picture.  They said perhaps it was custom ordered. One of them even suggested that red Minis were all the rage.  I promptly wrote back and told them that they clearly didn’t know me and my level of determination to find my dream car.

Roll forward to two nights ago when I was singing at Hugo’s Restaurant – a now-weekly gig that keeps me off the streets. Who walks in but Dudley’s “dad”.  There I was, up on stage, supposedly paying attention to the song I was singing, but in between verses, I craned my neck to look out in the parking lot to see if there was a Mini out there.  There wasn’t.  I was undeterred.  After my set, I went over to him and we got caught up.  We probably hadn’t spoken in ten years.  I decided to go for it and ask if he drove a turquoise Mini.  He said he did, just not that night! I showed him the picture on my phone, and he said that was his exact car. So at this point, having nothing to lose, I asked him if he would sell it to me. And without batting an eyelash he said, “of course”.  Like it was a no-brainer for him.  Like it was obvious to him that it needed to be mine.  To say I was gobsmacked is a complete and utter understatement.  I stammered that I didn’t have the money yet, but that I only needed to get it before my birthday in June.  He said that was no problem, he needed to keep it for a couple of months anyway.  When I asked him why he would sell it, he said his new partner doesn’t drive a manual transmission so he has to get a new car. We settled on a price (I already knew what it was worth) and shook and then hugged.  And then I had to.  I did a happy dance right in the middle of the restaurant floor.

Lots of laughs and “holy cows” from my friends who were there. They knew I’d found my Molly.

Now I just have to find the moolah.  No problem.  The hard part is over.

Branded by determination,

Buns

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kZ6h0kyqSRk&feature=kp

The magic of Molly.

Stop me if I’ve told you this before, but when I was a teenager, I used to watch “The Beachcombers” on CBC every Sunday.  At the time, I was living in Ontario, and the characters with all their West Coast antics – and romantics – enchanted and captivated me.  To me, it was quintessentially British Columbia. I had a major crush on Bruno Gerussi, I loved the boat, Persephone, and when I grew up, I wanted to be Molly.  She owned the local restaurant and all the guys would gather there after a hard day’s work to soothe their souls.

I often fantasized about operating a cozy little eatery in a small village, where the locals would meet and we’d all get to know each other as part of a tightly-knit community. With university, marriage, and kids arriving in the next few years, the idea of becoming Molly was relegated to the back burner. However, I did end up moving to the coast with my young family.  From our new home, we could see Gibsons, where the original TV series was filmed. I even became friends with one of the women who co-starred in the series!

Fast forward to the late ’90s, and I found myself the proud part owner of the Lions Bay Café where I got to know the locals very well and I was in my glory.  I was also the editor of The Seagull, our community newspaper, and for a while, I was known as “The Queen of Lions Bay”. I hadn’t kept the possibility of becoming Molly at the forefront of my mind, but it was so real to me when I was a teenager that I guess it remained anchored at a much deeper level.  Then in 2003, I co-created another establishment in nearby Horseshoe Bay, and although not a café, I have been nourishing souls there too from a more spiritual menu. Only quite recently I realized that I had put all the ingredients together and I had cooked up my own version of Molly – not once, but twice. 

Now that I am closing the doors in a couple of months, I have been conjuring up the next reincarnation.  She is going to be a 5-speed, Ice Blue Mini convertible.  And her name is going to be Molly.  While this is a bit of a departure from the original icon – it’s what she represents to me that counts. I have dreamt about owning this particular car for a long time, and I am using my absolute belief of its becoming a reality as my fuel. (In fact, you might say I have been taking it a little too far… last week I decided to pretend I was already driving my Mini, and my real car is bigger.  I actually was so in “Mini Land” that I smucked the front end on a garden retaining wall.) I decided to dial it back a bit, and still enjoy my current wheels until Molly arrives on the scene. 

Molly #3 represents to me the undeniable Truth that our thoughts create our reality. I hope that she will continue to remind me of this. I want to take it a step further, and look at the thoughts that I’m unaware of… they are the ones that could be holding me back. One more piece and I’ll let you go… Molly played a very independent character and I don’t remember if she had a partner. Her “loves” were her adoring public… if she was married or in a relationship, that wasn’t what I liked about her. I am going to ponder that for a bit and I’ll get back to you on that.

Branded by conviction,

Love Buns, a.k.a. Molly

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

Falling Uphill

My spark keeps wavering. Like a Bunsen burner it flares, I feel ME and then just as suddenly it dampens. I wonder what the heck this means. And I get nowhere. Like Sisyphus I long to get that boulder up to the top of my mountain and often experience the journey as a few days rolling up and then down it goes. Unlike the Greek myth I do not feel I am being punished by Zeus for being deceitful but there may be an element of blindness that keeps the process in motion.

I don’t really know what the rock represents. What am I rolling up this mountain? What the hell is the mountain? Who says I have to go uphill?  In not knowing am I deceiving myself?

Here is what I do know…the sensation.

This wavering pulse of energy when flowing bright is like radiant life force. I feel hopeful and full of possibility. Life is delightful and humorous with many random synchronistic punctuations. And just as suddenly I wake up immersed in a cloudy weight of meaninglessness. And like Sisyphus I am trying to regain lost ground, rolling that damn rock back up that mountain. Maybe the rock is my old structure, my old identity and I am not meant to roll that old girl uphill.

Could the weight of holding onto something archaic be generating this sensation of bringing me down?

How does one dissolve an identity that has served for years but no longer fits? Wish it was as easy as taking off your constricting clothes after a long day’s work and getting into jammies. Not a whole lot of thinking needed there. The desire for comfort is instinctual. This feels tight…take it off. This feels good…put it on. That’s clear.

 This process I am in the middle of …is not!

So what can I do but pay attention and keep accepting what arises? Ride it out and trust. Hey it’s a bit like being on a train clearly going somewhere but I have no real idea where. I know I can sense the destination though. That feeling that is me when fully in the moment and open as love. Both solid and light, full of bubbling possibility and the pleasure of connection with others and the world. Playtime mixed with purpose. Just like that dive into the stillness of a lake that is so much a part of my primal yearning for peace and freedom.

Surrender Dorothy. That’s what I tell my head so I can land myself back into the now.  Surrender and breathe. Just lean into it and fall.

Ahh….  

Branded by the exhale,

Authentically Yours,

Marty

The ties that bind.

January 20, 2014...

I arrived at work this morning to find a luscious bouquet of white roses from my friend Laura, in memory of my son Duncan.  Laura happened to be with me that fateful day 6 years ago when I first found out that he had died.  It was a raw yet intimate moment and one that is deeply etched on both of us.  I know we will stay connected forever.

Beside her bouquet was another one, with purple tulips and squiggly twigs. I absolutely knew it would be there.  Every year, this bouquet arrives from a woman I hardly know.  There is always a beautiful card and either a poem or a short blessing from her and her family.  I never see her, or talk to her, but her lovely little hand-gathered flowers, greenery and twigs, never fail to appear on the 20^th. I don’t have her phone number or her email, so I can’t even thank her.

My first phonecall this morning was from one of Dunc’s friends, asking me if I was going to be at work today.  He would drive out to give me a hug if I was.

And this is just the start… I have had texts, emails, comments, likes and cyber hugs on Facebook, all of which warm my heart immensely and help keep me buoyed in remembering more about his life and what he means to all of us, than about the fact that he is gone. This is the first year that I have felt more joy than sorrow. 

I have another reason to be joyful too and it has to do with the ties that bind and my son Sean.  He and his partner Kristina are getting married this summer and I think I’m just as excited as they are!  I didn’t really get to know Kristina well for the first year or so after they became an item.  She struck me as being quite shy and quiet and it was hard for me to connect at first. It wasn’t until I saw how she interacted with my family back east (and we’re talking a big, boisterous family – I didn’t know if she would actually survive) that made me realize why Sean loves her so much.  She particularly cottoned to my Dad who was starting to really go downhill at the time.  She was so kind, caring, and thoughtful that I knew Sean had picked the perfect person to spend his life with.  I am so happy for them.

We spent last Saturday together and took the ferry over to Vancouver Island to meet with various decorators, wedding cake purveyors, and the wedding planner.  It was great day, punctuated with bouts of laughter, moments of stressful decision-making, and a sense of having crossed a few major items off their list.  Being able to spend a whole “day in the life of S & K”, I found that they really know each other very well.  At one point, Kristina pegged Sean so well as to what he was going to do next, that it sparked a laughing fit for the two of us. I know we will remember that scene for some time to come. For me, I loved that she knew him so well.  For Sean, he loved it that she and I were laughing (quite hysterically) together.  And for Kristina… well maybe she got to know me a bit better too!

2014 is shaping up to be a wonderful year of meaningful and heart-warming connections – old and new – and I’m filled with a sense of wholesome anticipation for what lies ahead.

Branded by connection...

Buns xo

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v-RinRrz6DA

Bye Bye Blues 2013

 

On Christmas Day I teetered toward a private pity party as I started the morning on my own. This was my first Christmas ever with no one there. All my usual tribe were out of town and rather than scramble for invites to distract me I leaned into the experience.  I took my holiday dog Roxy out for a walk and the first person I see is on the ground, homeless and cold. It’s Christmas morning I thought and any tendency toward self pity flew from my head.  I approached, asked his name and got to know him. Of course he wanted money. I offered food and a hot drink.

It felt so good to take his order and deliver him a latte and bagel that the dog and I continued to roam the streets getting to know our less fortunate neighbors. I realized how little it took to make a connection and make someone’s day just a little bit brighter. I noticed how good I felt when I could do that. It made me wonder about commonality and how finding it is always possible even if not always easy.

A connection often ensures when people share work, or sports, or hobbies or the ultimate social lubricant ( a phrase coined by Buns)….the dog. Yes…the dog. Sure Roxanne is a cute bublbly red head with engaging brown eyes and a ready to please personality but the response on the streets really took me aback. Smiles were returned, initiated even and eye contact was common. She was the ultimate ice breaker and I wondered if I would have been half as brave in making contact with strangers without her by my side.

 There was something about my four footed pal that caused people to act like long lost members of the same tribe. We could talk about anything. Total strangers shared all sorts of intimate details not to mention how bold I became. I thought nothing of approaching a strong athletic type of guy and asking if he’d mind kicking Roxy’s soggy squeaky football because I was sure his ability to get some distance would far surpass mine. Without the dog I would never have met so many fun people.

So the question on the table is how do I keep this energy going once Roxy goes home? Seriously, living life this way seems like an open invitation to spontaneity and connection. It’s like an evite to the universe to keep weaving circumstances with the most unlikely candidates and watching to see what happens. I like it.  

So I started my conscious connecting New Years Eve and before going cold turkey meaning no dog, no props, no cocktails, I let myself ease into my new attitude with some fine martinis ( we had just discovered some brilliant olives stuffed with baby pickles and a  little trinket that my roomie T bought for me. Picture this. A headband on the top of your head with protruding fiber optic spikes that glow purple and red. It moves, when you tilt your head, it glitters and best of all it invites conversation. Weird…well yes but we have already established that as a norm. Truth be told I have always had a penchant for dressing up and hey its downtown…the New Year upon us and anything goes. Along with our portable sound system cranking tunes it was a real hit on the city buses. We made a lot of people laugh.

This New Year’s Eve also included a letting go, fire ritual. I had things to burn and release. The caldron was ready, the witches came and humor was non negotiable. New Years Day started with a brunch of decadence, Panecotti French toast with Mascarpone and fresh orange juice. And then the madness of the Polar Bear swim, gorillas paired with Santas in red Speedos and hordes of happy vibrant people all coming together at English Bay as they danced into the frigid ocean waters. This was the perfect canvas to begin to paint my New Year attitude around connection.

Everyone seemed so fresh with a clean slate 2014 feeling, including me.

And I have 365 days to make eye contact, initiate conversation and cultivate a perception of pure acceptance for myself and others. Like a prescription for the social malaise which I have felt held hostage by lately I fully commit to at least one conversation with a total stranger every day. And more than just, hey how are you doing! Even if I don’t feel like it.  Even if I am having a sad day.

I also started a joy jar, a container that I will fill with pieces of paper that hold nuggets of my interactions and memories of gratitude for precious moments throughout each day.

By 2015 I will have filled it and we will sit by the fire next New Years Eve and share the content.

Isn’t life a mystery? A marvelous mystery that may or may not ever make total sense. And today I am well with that.

Branded by banishing the blues,

Authentically Yours,

Marty