Turning it around

Two weekends ago I attended a Feng Shui workshop.

This was the third workshop I had been to in the past two years.  I'm a slow study in this 5000 year-old art and have a curious enjoyment of learning techniques in positioning element objects.

I was looking for ways to improve my sleeping environment and ideas to enhance the energy of the common space I share with three young adults and two cats.  My attempts to provide a Zen like, minimalist layout were unsuccessful considering the space with which we had to work.

I was happy to prepare a farewell to the Year of the Snake, its meandering paths and slippery characters I had endured. 

Last year I brought one of my young adult children since her year was coming to a close; I wanted something to give her ideas, inspiration for the next year - plus to spend some time together.  

This year I brought another offspring since The Year of the Horse is "his year" coming up on January 31st.  He was very patient and polite during the four hour session.  I was impressed that he asked questions while showing respect for this ancient tradition.

During the workshop I took notes on recommended placement of elements and related objects.  I took a mental inventory of objects we already possessed rather than shopping on impulse and investing more money on others.  

One can respect ancient traditions and the resulting advice while remaining practical. 

After the workshop I treated my son to a Works burger dinner.  He remarked on the chart showing auspicious and inauspicious compass directions for energy of the different Guas.  He observed that the directions for our two Guas were opposite. Oh...

I know he is eager to gallop away from our crowded home.  It is difficult for me to let go but I am so happy that he has new opportunities to embrace.  

The powder room now possesses a poster of a mountain as recommended plus a Himalayan salt  lamp and a plant.  I do not know where we are going to fit a bowl of the recommended fresh rock salt and sage.  I wonder if it will replace the candle whose purpose is to burn off residual fumes...  

My precious little writing desk has a new location - not at all related to any Feng Shui recommendations.  It just seemed to work best in this spot and is more accessible after turning the bed around.

It was indeed auspicious that the Feng Shui master recommended turning my bed with the head pointing west to encourage wealth.  I had been considering ways to escape the annoying late night noises coming from the apartment to the east anyway.

Sometimes it's a great feeling to change things around a bit and offload a few objects that don't enhance one's living space.  

I have yet to obtain smooth flat rose quartz to slip under the mattress and encourage a relationship.  I think the two cats occasionally occupying the top of the bed would counter-act any chances of that happening anyway.

The tacky framed print of a mother and babe at the head of my bed does not fit in with the recommended arrangements.  It is a keepsake from the family homestead and fits in with my continuing role as a mother, nurturer and guardian. 

As one of my offspring readies to gallop off, I am happy that the other two will still be close by for a while. One continues to contribute towards rent by creating illustrations for the next edition of the novel.  

Happy New Year and thanks for dropping by.

T

Warming up to Spiritual Traditions

Sunday morning reading

I have been up for hours due to the whining of one hungry feline, a full bladder and the joyous noises of the young family living below.  

I sat in my morning fogginess, sipping my first cup of instant coffee, and read a few blog entries by womanly writing acquaintances. One is sharing tidbits about pancakes, mardi gras and the preparation for Lent.  Another is lamenting the approach of Valentine's day and weighing the benefits of being an older, single woman.  

As a recovering Catholic, I read the former while recalling distant memories of long, boring church services.  One could say that since publishing the novel, I am leaning towards the irreverent.  I don't wait until the start of Lent to share in a pancake feast.  That's almost a bi-weekly tradition in our home.  

Enjoying my singledom, I chuckled at the latter's musings.  Except for the vague "be my valentine" invitation from an eccentric male acquaintance, I don't expect much these days.  It's not that I've given up... it's more like I have become wary of consumerized expectations.  I also have some apprehensions due to how some people interpret love and distort a relationship into one of abusive entitlement rather than gentleness and mutual respect.     

As the jaded fog clears, I acknowledge the new moon, the worldwide and beyond celebrations of the Chinese New Year, the Year of the Snake.  I have a list of things to acquire at the store. I just need a few more tasty treats to enhance the meal and gathering of family and friends in le petit apartement.  

As I leaf through Spiritual Traditions: Essential Teachings to Transform Your Life, I appreciate and respect the similarities of world religions and belief systems.  

I value my journey, exploration and opportunities to share common goals or beliefs with others while respecting those who differ.   

What it comes down to is that anyone can choose to begin the day feeling gratitude, joy and compassion.  

Sometimes, one needs a little boost from a cup of hot coffee.

T

Comfort food and huggable weather

Welcome, Autumn!  I am so glad you are here.

I love autumn.  I love spring.  It's those extreme seasons that I don't enjoy.  

At least in winter, you can put on socks, pants and a sweater if the petit apartment is chilly.  Yes, eventually one has to also venture outside for provisions and the day job.  

There are only so many layers that you can remove during the sweaty summer months until you are uncomfortable at the sticky touch of your own skin let alone that of another human's. 

The cooler temperatures make it more enjoyable to hug a favourite toy or affectionate feline.  Since my kids are grown up, they are not as receptive to hugs.  Yet.

One young person who is now sharing an apartment with friends was over for a visit last night.  After partaking in a delicious roast beef dinner and chat, he was actually receptive to a hug from his dear, short mother.   

It's funny how at times you can't wait for them to leave the nest but cling to them when they are departing after a short visit. Fly, little bird... fly. 

Even though I dislike the cramped, inefficient kitchen in the petit apartment, I look forward to preparing weekend batches of chili, pasta sauce and chicken noodle soup.  I look forward to heating up apple and pumpkin pies to serve with weekend meals.  

Once again, I hope we will squeeze in to sit around the small dining table to enjoy meals - and conversation.  Otherwise, I enjoy taking the young people out occasionally for a meal and family update meeting at a local restaurant.  It's nice to be served and have someone else look after the dirty dishes!  

How would you like to visit the Red Hare restaurant, a cozy, friendly family-run business in the fictitious town of Seguin Sound?  


You will also get to meet Father Gio, his biological daughter Sera Fletcher and Edgar who was inspired by my childhood toy, Winnie Pooh Bear. 

Yes, these are places and characters from The Year of the Rabbit - a novel about Fate, Family and Forgiveness.  You get to set the price when you purchase the eBook at Smashwords.  How do you like them apples? 

Thanks for dropping by.  Hug your kid today.  If you don't have kids, hug one of your cats.  If you don't have a cat... what's wrong with you? >^..^<   

T

Satisfying a desire

If you have followed my deep blonde thoughts for the past couple of years, you will be aware of my efforts to downsize my family's home, my attempt at living a more minimalist lifestyle after moving to a small apartment. You may also recall my 2010 post about coveting furniture.

Last weekend, I succumbed to the siren call of that desk (or his cousin) while passing by an English Butler outlet.  I saw the object of my desire. It was signalling to me from inside the store.  "Remember me?" he whispered, "Come closer.  Play with my pull-out writing surface.  You know you want to play with my drawers."

I paused in front of it.  I stroked the dark wooden surface, opened the drawers and pulled at the knobs with visions of getting this beauty into my bedroom. All I had for a writing surface in my tiny room was a folding table which had recently disappeared, being borrowed by a resident budding artist. 

This was not an impulse purchase, dear readers.  It was more of ... an obsessive love affair.  

I had been coveting this desk for years, every time I'd walk by that store.  If it wasn't near the front, I'd find myself craning my neck to see if it was somewhere at a side wall, hidden by the frivolous ornaments, candles and tapestry. 


Once the sales clerk confirmed that they could deliver, I was at the precipice to purchase.  My justification?  I had recently come into some coin plus needed a private place to write in my journal, to store stationery and books that were cluttering my tiny bedroom. 


My other justification was that due to the other procurement demands and errands of the day, I did not have time to study the PMBoK - something I tried to do on a weekly basis after escaping our crowded apartment for a visit to the local library.  Other than the dining table, there was no other decent place for studying.

So there it sits, waiting for me to organize my books, stationery and files into its mouth and belly.  I'll save that  activity for tonight - in-between loads of laundry.  I lead such an exciting life... 

Thank you for reading this far.  If you like my writing style, you may also enjoy reading "The Year of the Rabbit - a novel about Fate, Family and Forgiveness".  

T
 





 

Lean on Me

"I'm so relieved to know that I am not alone."

That is a statement I have heard often over the past fifteen months.  I have also shared it with teared-up eyes while sitting around a table or in a circle of couches and chairs.  

It's good to know that you are not alone in a struggle and that your troubles sometimes seem few compared to others' when they're facing addictive, harmful behaviour.

We each experience a variety of challenges throughout our lives and I believe that it's how you face them that contributes to your character - and skills for survival.  There will be times when one cannot be strong and has to realize that some life challenges cannot be faced alone.  There will be times when we each need the meaningful support of family, friends and community.  

We all need somebody to lean on. 
 

I have memories of living with a mentally ill person who was emotionally and verbally abusive to our family.  We were "walking on eggshells" so as to avoid an outburst or angry tirade.  After he attempted to kill me, I remember using that term while testifying at the criminal trial - even before I knew there was a book whose title contained the same phrase.

It's bad enough if the affected family member was your former spouse who through denial and controlling behaviour could make you doubt your own sanity.   It's a different story when a parent sees it happening with a child. 

After years as a single parent dealing with PTSD, my family's emotional roller coasters and attempting to cope through writing therapy, I was very thankful for connecting with a group that helps friends and family cope when someone they love suffers from Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). The twelve-week course was led by volunteers who tirelessly coordinated the weekly sessions and provided participants with documents and articles, building a "toolbox" of skills for coping and understanding affected family members. We were also reminded that we, as relatives have rights. 



I am not shy to share this part of my life with the world. Some of the details are on public record anyway.   If this blog entry can reach one person who is experiencing the same conditions as I did over a decade ago, wondering "Why is this happening?", then I feel that I have connected with and helped another human being along the bumpy road on the journey of life. 

It was during the final session of our program last spring that some of us expressed an interest to continue meeting - at least on a monthly basis.  We wanted to review the notes, refresh ourselves on the communication and coping skills.  We needed to keep on connecting, listening and sharing. 

Some of the people could not make it to the monthly gatherings.  I often think about them and hope their struggles have lessened over time.  

In addition to the monthly support sessions, I have continued to review the courseware and perform research online.  It's not difficult to find credible, clinical sources and... blogs by others who have endured family members with these same disorders for a long, long time.  I consider myself very lucky.

Last month, a group of my lady writer friends finally agreed on a convenient date to meet for dinner.  In addition to sharing updates on our lives and clinking our glasses in a toast, we consoled each other on our various challenges.  We agreed on the importance of the gathering of friends and taking advantage of available support systems. 

In addition to professional services, support groups and healthy communities, it's good to have friends - real life and yes, even supplemented on social networking platforms like Facebook. On the latter though, one doesn't (and shouldn't) reveal dark, personal details.  There is indeed a feeling of connection and support when sharing photographs or "what's on your mind?".  

After a "like" or a comment from a true friend across the city, the river or across the continent, you can feel assured that you are not alone. 

- - -

The Ottawa Network for Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD)
http://www.on-bpd.ca

The Royal Ottawa Mental Health Centre
http://www.theroyal.ca

Call of Duty?

My knuckles are gradually healing since an encounter with a neighbour. 

This Canada Day I chose to remain cool and comfortable at home while listening to the festivities, interviews and Royal sightings on CBC Radio.  I had no desire for "being there" among thousands of noisy, sweaty bodies in downtown Ottawa.  I enjoyed hearing that Rick Mercer was among the celebrities in Kandahar, marking the last Canada Day that the troops would spend in war torn Afghanistan.  I was proud to hear about new Canadian citizens being sworn in on that special Day.

I appreciated the down time in my new home after a hectic week of obligations, appointments and meetings.  I wrote, sorted through digital photographs from two offspring's recent graduations. (insert fuzzy proud feeling and a big sigh of relief!)  I shared news, thoughts and pictures with friends and relatives via email while reading their updates on family, health issues and recent accomplishments.  I followed up on activities to promote my novel.   It was a satisfying way to spend the warm day in the privacy and quiet of my little apartment.

That was until...

It started with what sounded like random drumbeats coming from our neighbour's place.  This was not the usual boom, boom, boom music vibrating through the wall and floor that we unfortunately share.  After a half hour, I concluded it was either the sound effects from a action movie they were watching or... a video game.  The sound grew louder and louder.  The gun fire became more intense. 

The sound of machine guns vibrating through our home became too much to bear.   Those who know my history are aware of my aversion to loud noises and violence.  I once again state my appreciation of family, friends and professionals who helped me get through the rough times and PTSD. 

After another twenty minutes of this barrage, I braved myself to seek out the source.  Dressed in frumpy, casual attire and without makeup, I had to go out of my way to knock on my neighbour's door. There was no answer yet I could hear the hoots and male grunts from inside accompanying the gun fire. 

I knocked again.  No answer. Augh! Frustration.  I had to wait for a lull in the video game combat in order to knock again and again and actually be heard. 

Finally, the door opened.  I was greeted by a good looking, buff young man (oh my!) wearing shorts and no shirt (oh my, my!).  My frustration was briefly overcome by flirtatious thoughts.   I was next aware of how haggard and unfeminine I must have appeared.  

Not wanting to let primal reactions distract me from my objective, I breathlessly introduced myself.  

He returned my greeting.  

I stammered nervously and politely, conveying to him that we shared the same wall and... and floor and... and... I could hear - I could FEEL the sound in my apartment.  

He apologized, said they'd turn the volume down, adding that they were just kicking back and getting ready to head out soon.

I thanked him then turned to leave.  He wished me a Happy Canada Day.  I think I grunted in response. 

Things have been pretty quiet since.  As I rub my sore knuckles and wring my hands, I shake my head at the entertainment and lifestyle choices of a few.  I think about those new Canadian citizens who escaped war zones in order to make a better life for their families.  I think about Canadian and Coalition soldiers who have risked life and limb, striving to maintain peace and order in Afghanistan.  Let's hope that disruptive actions of a few do not interfere as others adapt and heal, settling peacefully into their new homes. 

How do you like them apples?

In an effort to push more fruits into my diet, I am forcing myself to make more visits to the basket on our dining room table. 

The new rental home is shaping up with less boxes lying around.  I don't like our small kitchen though.  Due to my avoidance of using the new stove and the horrible humidity of this past week, we have been ordering a lot of pizza lately.  At least it's good quality, Colonnade Pizza :o)

As I bite into a Cripps Pink apple, I think about and appreciate the fruit so simple as an apple.  Apples are sturdy, portable, reliable fruit packed with fiber, vitamins and natural sugar.

Last weekend, after I unpacked more boxes from our move and sorted dirty laundry, I managed to sit long enough to enjoy watching The Cider House Rules on TV Ontario.  It's a beautiful, touching story that I discovered had many themes similar to those in my novel, The Year of the Rabbit.  (teen pregnancy, adoption, abortion, apples, love and... breaking rules)

In The Year of the Rabbit, the apple appears many times - mostly as a symbol of innocence and discovery.  It leads Sera through thoughts of life after death then the accidental revelation of her true paternal origin.  There is another scene where its innocent influences cannot prevent Sera from acting on uncontrollable rage.  

So... have I tempted your interest in reading the story?  Visit the YOTR blog for more excerpts and links on where to purchase your copy of the book.

Thanks for dropping by.

T

Mission Accomplished: Home Sweet Home

Home Sweet Smaller Home.

I am relieved to say that I have satisfied one of the goals I set over a year ago. 

My family is settling in to our new, smaller place.  We are being creative with placing items according to need and... aesthetics.  I aim to continue to provide my children with a happy, healthy home now that the dark, emotional clutter is far behind us.  One little bird is spreading its wings, getting ready to leave the nest.  The others will need more encouragement...

Home is what you make it.  

Home is where the heart is.  

In my novel, The Year of the Rabbit young Sera loses her family home due to sad circumstances beyond her control.  She finds a new home at the Red Hare Restaurant which is owned and managed by the Young family.