Never Stop!

                                       

“Nothing was going to stop me, not even myself.” says young Oskar Schell, as he embarks on a hero’s quest to keep his father’s memory alive. This line is from the movie Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, adapted from a novel by Jonathan Safran Foers. It stars Tom Hanks and Sandra Bullock, and my experience of it was so powerful I wanted to share the impact.

Oskar is a lonely eleven year old reeling from the death of his father at the World Trade Center in 9/11. When he wanders into his father’s closet a year after his death yearning to inhale even a scent of the bond he had with his dad, he inadvertently breaks a vase and discovers inside a tiny envelope with a key.  The envelope is marked ‘Black’ and knowing his dad’s love of games and puzzles Oskar is now committed to find the Black to whom the key belongs. There are 472 people named Black in New York’s five boroughs and his every waking moment is spent charting the course of this adventure.  

Wearing his heart on his sleeve he begins to meet and connect with the Blacks in the world of New York. His belief that if he can find what the key fits he will be able to keep his dad alive inside himself just a little while longer, propels him to such tender open exposure with these strangers that his invitation to vulnerability is met with authentic connection. Somewhere, one of these Blacks holds the key to his heart. They hold a hope that he can forget what he calls, 'the worst day', the day his world…our world…was shaken and seared with pain. 

While alive his dad’s message was ‘never stop looking’ and taking this to heart the odyssey unfolds. This journey is not an easy one for Oskar. Shaking with anxiety he bangs his tambourine to calm himself and just keeps walking into his fears muttering “I’m free, I’m free,” a mantra of solace in a world filled with shadows.

He forces himself to overcome all obstacles, his fear of subways, walking across bridges, and most of all a fear of people. “Every day is a miracle,” writes his mysterious grandfather who doesn’t speak, instead using the words yes and no tattooed on the palms of his hands to aid communication.  “I don’t believe in miracles” says Oskar. And yet as, he touches lives, he touches souls and his crusade holds a miracle in every step.

Whenever Oskar is feeling depressed and forlorn he says that he is wearing, “heavy boots”.  He knows the likelihood of finding what the key fits is slim and yet he will not give up. Profoundly touching, this film marks you and leaves an imprint.

Who among us does not at times feel like we are wearing heavy boots? Who has not felt loss and faced that sense of an abyss at the crossroads of choosing between love and fear? This little boy is at that crossroad daily, moment by moment (as are we all) and I view his journey as an inspiration for us to rise above personal limitation and step into shoes of a hero even if we may not fully believe they will fit.

We have all had a day we call, the worst day and perhaps more still to come. We also have a gift for choosing and the power to act as love would. The light that shines in Oskar’s soul is like a star that herald’s new birth.  And just as he is called to follow blind faith in order to let this light guide him, so too are we. This light is unwavering and while at times may seem dim it is a beacon that is always there…waiting for us to notice…to remember.  We are always being called… sometimes we are not listening.  In the call to love, to keep love alive at all costs, and to refuse to let it ever be extinguished no matter what the circumstances …well that is life’s odyssey.  The Oskar’s of the world are our muse.

Nothing is going to stop me, not even myself.  I yearn to take these words to heart this season and be guided by something bigger than personal struggle. My prayer is to lead with my heart and live by the words of my favorite Christmas carol, ‘let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me.’

If you want to be moved and stirred to gratitude, opened to the power of love and possibility, read the book…download the movie.

Santa’s orders.

Branded by faith,

Authentically Yours,

Marty

 

 

See (and sing) with your heart!

What a week!  I’ve been hovering on the brink of a full-on sore throat, sneezing, runny nose, and hoping that it will abate in time for a gig tonight.  (The jury is still out – it’s possible my new sound is husky and sexy...  we’ll see.) I haven’t felt 100% to put it mildly and there are a lot of other things going on that have challenged my sense of humour recently.

A good friend of mine reminded me of the theory of relativity... you can always find someone worse off. And while I’m not one to ever throw a pity party, it does help to reflect on how grateful and fortunate I am no matter how crappy I feel.

Take my evening between 4 p.m. and 5:30 last night – I had just finished a marathon session with my mentor that often involves delving into the deep dark recesses of my life, including relationships, finances, and how I am in the world vis-a-vis who I am (if that makes sense). It was incredibly fruitful.  I came out of her place buoyed with a renewed confidence that I am doing well and that no matter how bad things look on the surface, I am sturdy and I am loved.  And I do know that.  I just need reminding sometimes.

So just as I am on the mend financially, I come outside to find my car had been towed.  Yes.  I dropped the f-bomb. Hailed a cab, and immediately got stuck in Friday afternoon rush-hour traffic, which was even more chock-a-block than usual as there was a power failure and the traffic lights weren’t working. Then the old oh-shit-this-isn’t-looking-good feeling kicked in.  The meter was ticking away and we were going nowhere. And to top it all off, the driver had decided it was alluring and seductive to douse himself with at least a litre of after-shave lotion that might have been appropriate if he were trying to camouflage being sprayed by a skunk.  I was gagging. Fortunately he said he accepted Master Card.  We arrived at the towing compound.  I handed him my card and lo and behold, he couldn’t process it because of the power failure.  As I didn’t have any cash on me, he offered to take me to the nearest ATM.  Off we go, back out into the crawling traffic.  He dumps me off at a gas station.  Their ATM has run out of money.  I get back in the car and suggest he find another ATM.  Back out into the sea of cars, and all of a sudden, this crazed woman jumps in front of the cab, starts banging on the hood, and demands that she gets in with me.  She is hysterically sobbing, and I begin to understand that her friend has just died in the hospital and she needed to get there. The cabbie auto-locked the door (English was not one of his strong points).  I think he thought she might have been just some wild and dangerous Friday-night nut on the loose.  I told him to open the door and let her in.  We spent the next ten minutes speeding as best we could to the hospital, while I did my best to get her to talk about her friend in a way that was helpful to her.  She did calm down and was very grateful for our giving her a hand.

By this time I felt like the cabbie and I were a team.  For some reason, I couldn’t even smell his cologne any more.  He was a very kind person and (after finally finding an ATM that bore fruit), he dropped me off and we parted as though we had known each other forever. We wished each other well.  I was starting to feel better and I hadn’t even faced the music of a towing charge and parking ticket.  I walked up to the wicket, where I was greeted by this radiant young man’s face who was so empathetic (not a quality you expect from a fine collector), that I was completely disarmed. Whoever hired him for the job, knew what he or she was doing.  He could tell I had had a harrowing day and his final words to me were, “Whatever you do, or whatever happens, don’t ever lose that smile.”  I hadn't even given him so much as a grin, but that made me beam.  He said, “See what I mean?  That’s what I’m talking about.” How the hell did he know about my smile?

Aah.  What a day.  I am so incredibly blessed.  I was able to help someone. Someone acknowledged that inner me that is always smiling.  I experienced being who I am in the middle of turmoil and angst.

No pity party tonight.  I’m going to sing.  Doesn’t matter what it sounds like.  It’s where it comes from that counts.

Branded by the sniffles and a grin,

Love Buns xo

Could You Unzip Me All The Way?

I seem to be doing a lot of yearning these days. Yearning for a change, a dog, a trip, more sun, some snow, a different home, a shake up with work…just plain yearning. And as I notice I am on the brink of calling a real estate agent, quitting my job, diving into a passionate but  possibly unwise adventure I also notice that it is all connected with a growing understanding of just how short life really is.

I look at pictures from my twenties and think, gosh I was pretty, how come I didn’t know it back then. Then I flash forward 20 years from now and imagine myself hobbling along, still eccentric but wrinkled and bent and thinking back to this present moment, perhaps looking at a picture of myself as I look now and thinking, gee I sure had a vital energy and spirit back then.

Why the appreciation for the present moment seems so fleeting at this time I cannot truly say.

I saw a bald eagle yesterday and for a moment my heart soared with it over Lost Lagoon. That was in the present. My niece broke her tibia playing soccer and is in a cast from hip to toe. I got lost in the present, painting stripes of red, purple, and blue interspersed with polka dots set against a backdrop of sunshine yellow. For a moment we were lost in the art of obliterating white. It made us both happy.

And yet before and after, I drift, dreaming dreams that are not yet here or letting pictures of the past come to mind triggered by the crisp air and sugary smells that are infiltrating cafes getting ready for Christmas. I can’t say I am struggling with all this, I am just noticing. But it is irksome at times, like a knot in a fine silver necklace that I can’t unravel. At times I want to resort to using my teeth but I refrain.

I do know that the biggest challenges are often the greatest opportunities for growth and it would almost be easier if this was some big drama so I could deal with it. But it’s niggley, not big at all and somehow that makes it all the more difficult to be well with.

And so the universe brought me an interview last week with author Polly Campbell who wrote a book called Imperfect Spirituality. In it she continually reminds us that self criticism thwarts motivation. Self compassion boosts happiness, optimism, curiosity, conscientiousness and motivation. I asked her to take our listeners through a practice that she felt was important in this life long journey of awakening and self acceptance. She said instead of closing your eyes to meditate to notice while you are busy at living, exactly what is happening. To verbalize out loud to yourself the present action immediately drops you into your body and into the present moment.  

For instance, I am typing on a keyboard watching the words appear on the screen They are filled with spelling mistakes. I am taking a deep breath and pushing my hair behind my left ear. It feels soft. 

Or if you are washing the dishes just name what you are doing. I am putting soap in the water. It feels warm as I put my right hand into the suds etc. I have tried this driving and walking down the street, bringing into consciousness wherever my eyes land. It is deceptively simple yet remarkably effective. Try it yourself.

 

Once I am back in the present I think drifting is not so bad. It’s only my judgment of it that generates unease. Can I accept this swirly void I keep finding myself falling into and be alright with it?

 

In Polly’s book she calls this space The Fertile Void which is a lovely reframe and implies that there is something being birthed in this process. If the emptiness is fertile then possibility lives in that sense of nothing.  

Instead of viewing my drifting mind as escape I can embrace it as free form possibility.

Yes I can rest in that. 

Branded by nothing,

 

Authentically Yours,

Marty

 

 

My overflowing half-empty glass.

Here it has been almost two weeks since I wanted to post something for your reading pleasure and yet each time I sat down to write, nothing was springing to mind. That's so not like me.  I can always summon up some witty little thing at a moment's notice, but not this time.

Mmmm.  It's not as if my life sucks.  Au contraire.  It's very, very full.  With only four weeks to go until our spiritual community's annual Christmas celebration, I am in the thick of it all, being one of the senior elves on the event-planning team. I am working 5 to 6 days a week, playing lots of gigs, and building my sideline business with Isagenix. I have no context for the words "day off".  And I'm in good spirits.

Still, a malaise of sorts pervades my space.  I've been pondering this for the last few days, and came to a realization that I wasn't acknowledging or expressing gratitude for my life.  And it's funny because I had been nudging a good friend of mine, who has been down in the dumps lately, to write at least 10 things he was grateful for each morning.  He said he couldn't do it.  (Until yesterday, when he came running into my store to tell me he had easily hit 50 things he was grateful for and was still counting!) He totally made my day.

I'll admit I've got a few challenges at the moment but they are all pretty much in the financial realm.  I am beginning to see that I am letting that dark cloud determine the weather conditions for me in the other areas of my life.  So I have decided to try and catch myself when I'm not feeling thankful.  I'm in training, I guess you could say.  I'm rewiring my synapses so my natural response to whatever is going on is to see the silver lining instead of the cloud.

So here's what I am thankful for... (and this is just a sampling)... 

My mom and dad are still alive and living in their own home.

I have three sisters and a brother and we have never known what it is like not to talk to each other.

My son Sean continues to delight me in ways that are indescribable.  (Yesterday, I was out shopping with him. He needed a few things from the drugstore as he was really not feeling well.  He stopped and bought a poppy for both of us and was very kind to the man who was selling them.  I knew he felt really ill, but he still took the time to give this man a huge hello.  I had a lump in my throat watching his tenderness with a complete stranger.)

While Duncan is no longer with us in body, I am so grateful to have had him in my life for 22 years. 

I am much loved by many people.

I eat well and enjoy good health.

I am surrounded by beauty.

I have many opportunities to sing (and I LOVE singing!).

I am in a position to help people better their lives.

I laugh every day.  Full belly laughs usually. I'm grateful for my sense of humour.

I could go on and on.  This, in and of itself, is helping to lift my ceiling.

I guess you could call this my post-Thanksgiving post.

Branded by gratitude,

Love Buns

The Seed

I raced to get to The Seed Event on time. It was early and this symposium held in Vancouver would last all day until 10pm when Deepak Chopra would speak. Not only was it to feature some of the most innovative minds of our time but also cutting edge products and services. I walked into a vibration of beauty both visually and emotionally. The air was lightly scented with spices and a lingering touch of jasmine. My eyes were drawn to a vibrant glowing wall of intense green. Row after row of plants and herbs were growing behind glass that was radiating with light. Emerald greens mixed with sage and textured grasses and sprouts as this edible scene of living art literally took my breath away.

The auditorium though filled with people held stillness. The stage was full of stars against a night blue sky and promised an entry into the void not only of stimulating concepts but also into the experience of Self.

After an opening ritual with the intention to join thousands of people, health and longevity expert David Wolfe took the stage. His passionate avocation in promoting  superfoods, superherbs and medicinal plants and mushrooms for healing was fun and sincere and invited at the very least a taste test.  Bouncing around the stage with an energy that he couldn’t contain he addressed the toxicity of our environment and how the addition of these plants to our diet and also eating closer to a plants raw or natural state would help balance our  immune system and promote energy and vibrant health.  Then intuitive coach Karen McGregor talked of love and purpose, Nirmala Raniga covered a spiritual approach to addiction and many others followed who provided expansion to the diverse minds and hearts in attendance.

The food court was another experience not often found at mainstream events. With the speed of a fast food vender Eternal Abundance, one of Vancouver’s premier organic grocery stores and vegan raw food café’s was offering fresh wraps, salads, mushroom teas and superfood smoothies. For those not familiar with this approach to eating the convincer was the energy that eating raw provided.  Raw, literally meaning nothing was cooked. From gorgeous butternut squash soup to the raw chocolate drink, the only sound that emoted from my lips was mmmmm.
www.eternalabundance.ca
This crowd was interested in trying new things and it made the lineups a place of pleasure, where conversation took precident over end game and the goal of getting something. Each moment was pure and full onto itself. I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed being in this kind of vibration. And yes I have a new plan to incorporate the king and queen of mushrooms, Chuga and Reishi into a tea that will simmer on my stove all day long. It tastes great and balances the immune. Hello autumn.


And yet what most impacted me most were the two meditations that we stepped into as a group. Adam Dreamhealer, after speaking about the power to heal our physical, emotional and spiritual bodies by intention led us into an expansion of our own light field or aura and then a merging with the whole.
www.dreamhealer.com/
We were taught three visualization healings and as the lights went out not only did each person work on themselves individually but as a collective we sent love and healing to everyone present.


Later Deepak Chopra, looking fine in red Keds and hipster jacket, blended heart and science as he spoke about our origins as energy beings and offered tools on self reflection and knowing the difference between the actual and the perceptual. We journeyed as a group into our Essential Selves and then shared the love we found there with the room, with Vancouver, with Canada, the world, the galaxy and the universe.

When he asked, “Who are you?”  I saw starlight, blindingly beautiful in the void of dark depth that was the cosmos. When he asked, “What are you here to do?”  I felt my face being tenderly caressed by a pair of gentle hands and a voice said, “My daughter… you are here to love.”  And when he asked, What does the world look like that you want to live in?”,  I began to hear the notes of the song Imagine, John Lennon’s heart felt calling for dreamers to join in possibility. As tears cascaded down my face and my soul vibrated with desire, the lyrics crystallized with clarity and volume until I heard, “And the world will be as one”. I let the song wash over me as my tears opened me like a flower leaning into the sun.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=RwUGSYDKUxU

And that is at my core, to live as one heartbeat. Even with all our personality differences, all our quirks and flaws, all our human machinations…to live as ONE.

 For me this is not an airy metaphysical concept or a momentary blip that was experienced in a meditation but rather a call to action, to a demonstration of the truth.

What would love DO now? What would love SAY now? Our interconnectedness is a scientific fact, indisputable and inclusive of every living organism. The task of translating that as a way of being, acting, communicating in our relationships, without defense or strategy or armor…well that is what I call an art form.

Does God exist? Deepak didn’t ask that question because it was unnecessarily. We had all just experienced it. No dogma, no discussion. We are one. We are home. We are love.

Everyone here is God in drag, he said.  Now let’s get real because none of this is relevant if we do not start with what is. And ‘what is’ as a human being is a mixed bag of light and dark. You can't profess to be aligned with the force of love if you are hiding parts of yourself, from others or from yourself.

It all starts with honest disclosure and transparency, from there you can breathe into the vastness of spirit and heal anything.

Branded by gratitude and longing,

Authentically Yours,

Marty

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