I’ve had my share of what you’d call ‘mystical’ experiences. They transcend the ordinary and intrigue the psyche on so many levels.

Even though I’m wrapped in my own space I’m aware that the space takes me beyond what I know to be true. These moments are when we meet creativity and it meets us — no boundaries.

I just let go and don’t question the truth of these spaces. They are the times that leave footprints behind in my memory to a trail that is as fresh as if I’d travelled it yesterday.

A wintery wake-up call

One morning in the middle of a crisp Northern Ontario winter in 1992, I headed off to work earlier than usual. It was cold and the sun hadn’t yet risen. Street lights cast frigid shadows on the snow that squeaked under foot and my breath blew wispy fingers that beckoned me forward.

The cold wrapped itself around me from all directions, poking at me to wake. Course, I simply withdrew further into my heavy parka. While standing at the bus stop alone and shivering, I found myself reflecting on what I’d learned about the Native American Medicine Wheel:

excerpt by Jutlia Atli…
“The Wheel basically represents the sacred directions of the cosmos and the religious beliefs and beings associated with them, it represents us at the center and then illustrates that all worlds, states, beings, etcetera are greatly affected by the myriad of forces all around and within us….”

The names of the gatekeepers of the Cherokee medicine wheel are Awahili, the Eagle (East/Truth), Waya, the Wolf (South/Family), Yona, the Bear (West/Introspection) and Yunsai, the White Buffalo (North/Renewal). As we move with the different seasons each year, so do we move with the different seasons of each day.

I had begun the practice of saying a prayer at each stage of the day that represented sunrise, high noon, sunset and midnight, to give thanks to these forces, or gatekeepers if you will; acknowledging them and establishing a connection with where I was in the cycle of my day. The practice encouraged respect for life and each and every step taken.

The vision of a new day

While standing there in those predawn moments, cowering from the cold in my parka, cheeks stinging and toes tingling, my state of being wandered. I drifted deep into thoughts that landed me in a mystical place where the imagination beckoned warmly. I gave silent acknowledgment to Awahili, the Eagle, in appreciation of the sun that was just about to rise.

I suddenly found myself hearing distant music in my thoughts; faint sounds of a travelling band. Trumpets, trombones, beating drums and other sounds of a parade advancing; saw the stepping rhythm of a marching band, batons twirling and crazily dressed, striped and spotted clowns with raggedy orange hair and red knobby noses. Tall men on stilts. Majestic floats adorned with smiling, waving passengers, decorated with a myriad of colourful flowers and such, inched forward through time; arching towards the sky.

I was dreaming and yet I was awake. I was cold and yet as I tuned into this vision; this celebratory moment, I stepped outside of the cold. The vision of the parade was marching towards me from behind, from the southeast.

I changed position and my awareness and still, I could hear the marching band from inside my thoughts. I was mesmerized. Why? Because I don’t even like parades and yet, here I was stepping into an imaginary one in the middle of winter of all things. It was not one of my own design, that was certain.

I turned to see that the sun had just risen, casting beautiful, enlightening yellow rays upwards, like open arms raised towards the sky. Awahili, the gatekeeper of the east had opened a new day in a celebratory way.

Where are you standing, right now?
What are you listening to?

Photo Credit: Vieux bandit

Here’s to the ordinary

There is more to the Muse than finding inspiration and the right words to express it. It is beyond splashing colour across an artist’s canvas or aiming the camera at exactly the right angle.

Innate objects, inventions, tools and activities were inspired by some creative pursuit. Many ideas are overlooked or taken for granted by our taste for recognition and glory.

The Muse’s influence is everywhere and we are never separate from it. We just think we are.

For this poem, I collected all the words I could that rhyme with Muse. Then, I fiddled and juggled and let them find their rhythm to tell the story. When I started, they were just ordinary words. Together, they tell a story.

The story is one of two friends getting together to relax and share their Monday evening and the start of a new week.

It is reminiscent of those times I’ve spent with friends, when even the silence speaks. When the ordinary is much more than ordinary.

This poem is about being supported by the creative possibilities around you. It is about appreciating the ordinary.

Mundane Monday Muse

This special space friends can’t refuse,
munching moments and cashews,
sharing time, breaking through,
a good boyfriend, a bad hairdo.

Gentle chatter, words diffuse,
now staring at the other’s shoe,
profile steady, thoughts enthused,
by a sentimental interlude.

Drawing waves like a swift canoe,
past writer’s words and painter’s hues,
and finely crafted tall statues,
and faded butterfly tattoos.

To a coffee table with crossword clues,
a trusted silver wing corkscrew,
a glass of wine, a pot of stew,
flavored by some rhythm and blue.

Mundane seeks not to bemuse,
but to imagine poets and lofty views,
where the innate artist’s breath ensues,
to unveil the mundane Monday Muse.

Photo Credit: DanDeChiaro

Poetry in Motion

The treehouse
My treehouse is built in an apple tree.
Birds sit on the roof and sing in glee.
It is a happy place to be.
Sometimes I sit there for hours and hours,
Making a chain of daisy flowers.
When autumn comes the cold winds blow,
Telling me that they bring snow.
Then over the hayfields, home I run,
Through the daisies and the setting sun.
–Jan 27, 1976

This is a poem I wrote when I was 12 years old. I love that 12-year-old. She was a dreamy, imaginative little girl. And guess what? I still am. That part of me never grew up and I’m glad.

That dreamy place is home. The treehouse that I dream of is where I would sleep at night; where I could go for comfort when feeling lost or frustrated. It is where I can go when I feel happy too. It is always there. Sometimes though, I forget… until I see a sunset like you see in the picture above.

Sitting with possibilities

This picture takes me away. There is an incredible sense of movement in this sky — a surrender to connection. It makes me feel that when and where heaven and earth meet anything is possible. Anything.

I was out walking the other day and my mathematical brain kicked in — a rarity for me. I found myself pondering that where heaven and earth meet, is where we stand. And from the vantage point of where we are standing we are in the centre of a circle — always. Think about it. We are the seed.

The best part about believing that anything is possible, is not having to prove or understand any of it. Just sitting with the possibilities is enough for me. My imagination runs wild and I am quite happy to oblige.

That day I also found myself thinking that I don’t always have to have everything I dream about. What a relief. Dreams not tainted with expectation or possible disappointment.

With no attachment to the dream the possibilities expand the experience. The circle grows. I felt how this tempts us to wander outside of what we know and dream about what could be.

The dream continues to grow and evolve as we do… uncaptured. It’s like appreciating the rainbow without having to own it or control it. Just being with it while knowing that it is not forever. But also knowing that there will be another.

Some dreams I am content to hold in my imagination; to be content to just visit them… or let them visit me.

To build a treehouse and sleep in it overnight has been a dream of mine for over 30 years. I suspect that if I had built that treehouse over 30 years ago, I would have enjoyed it, yes. But that time would have passed. The tree house would have become weathered and after all this time it may no longer exist.

But living with the possibility of this dream still gives me the thrill I imagine I would have while climbing up that ladder for the first time. I can have this every time I think about it. It never grows old, like a poem… it is timeless. Telling a story, bringing light. Always with rhythm and in motion.

This concept excites me. What about you?

Is there a dream that you could have but are content to keep dreaming about?

Photo credit: Xanetia

More than just imagination

“Heaven and Earth can never meet as long as you hold even one person outside of your heart.”

Devrah Laval, author of The Magic Doorway into the Divine

This evening I was reflecting on a conversation I had with a friend not all that long ago. Actually, this conversation was between my life coach Ciel and myself.

This is the second time I’ve mentioned our session this week and it’s because it was a particularly good one. It evoked a lot of insights for me.

Admittedly, my life has been more than a bit challenging this past year, and some days I’m just plain worn out. I won’t go into detail because it’s important to not always “go there”. Going there too much only reinforces it more — it becomes a perpetual cycle.

And so, here I was (a lover of metaphors) using a metaphor to describe to her how I was feeling on that particular day.

“Ciel,” I said, “I feel like I’m on a sinking ship. I just don’t have the energy to stay afloat anymore.”

Then she said, “Yes, but there are life boats.”

Ok, so I had forgotten about the life boats. I was hooked on the sinking ship idea. Very intent on reinforcing the “truth” of my situation.

“I hadn’t considered getting on a life boat,” I said. Resistance was perched on both shoulders, whispering in my ears.

“Well,” said Ciel, “What if you were on one? … Tell me why you should be on a life boat?”

I realized that I didn’t want to be. I really was on a sinking ship. I was living the metaphor and couldn’t abandon ship because I’d abandoned Self.

“Tell me why you should be on one of those life boats?” She repeated.

“I don’t know why.” Silence.

“Ok, what if you were on a life boat. Why should you be saved.” I still didn’t know… or want to find out.

Ciel was determined. “Pretend that you know.”

Ok, I’m really good at pretending, so this would be easy. “I should be on the life boat, because… I am here. I’m just here.”

“What else?” I hated when she did that.

“I can’t quit.”

“What else?”

“I have a lot to offer.” As I heard these words, the metaphor of the sinking ship… sunk. We continued to discuss all that I appreciated about myself. Basically, we were refilling my fuel tank. I’d forgotten to take the time to do this and had simply run out of gas. It is really easy to take yourself for granted.

I’d abandoned all that I believed about myself. When a person can’t even hold themselves in their heart, how could they possibly attract their dreams? How would they even recognize their dreams? They’d be like two ships passing in the night.

When life becomes overwhelming it is even more important to remind ourselves of what we already have, and not focus so much on what we’re not getting or what isn’t working. It’s important to focus on what has been accomplished.

Some days you might feel like you want to give up. But do you really? Deep down? You can’t honestly say you want to quit. Can you?

What if you simply gave yourself permission to quit. How would that feel? Personally, when I have tried this… when I have given myself permission to quit… I don’t want to. Knowing that is half the battle.

The path might not always be clear, but I know that I’ll never find the way if I abandon myself.

Do you take yourself for granted?

Where do you shine? What talents do you have?

Photo credit: aeu04117′s Photostream

This is not the typical ebook.

The Quote Effect was launched in December of 2008.

This is an invitation to bloggers to submit up to 3 of their favourite original quotes from their blogs, or write new ones. Read more here.

Photographers and artists are encouraged to submit some of their original work. I’d like to hear your suggestions for a cover design too.

I will compile submissions into an ebook. The deadline for submissions is January 31.

There will be no affiliate links in this first edition. This is strictly for bloggers to promote their blogs and share their unique personalities through their writing and creative expression.

We want the hilarious, the sarcastic, the thinkers, the doers, the writers, the serious, the health nuts.

If you have already left a comment with me to say “count me in” I will be emailing you a submission form to make this easy for you.

If this is the first you’ve heard of this project, please contact me to let me know of your interest and I will email you the submission form. Choose The Quote Effect as the subject.

Quotes have impact.

They widen our perspective and tickle our creative awareness. They quiet our mind and invite us to read more.

Bloggers use quotes to illustrate a point and catch the reader’s attention. They make us laugh, roll our eyes – our thoughts drift away or come awake.

They add that personal, authentic touch, and whether you blog for a hobby or for business, authenticity speaks volumes. It attracts attention.

When are you being authentic? What might be hidden in your archives or on your welcome page? What about the comment section in your blog or comments you’ve left on other blogs. Fellow bloggers are sharing a wealth of gold in these sections of their blogs too.

Let them know they’ve inspired you and invite them to share some of their quotes in this collection. Tell them all about it.

Submissions are starting to arrive already and I will be featuring a new one each week during the month of January.

I have received this first one from Miguel de Luis at Wisdom & Life.

“Generosity is of the brave.”

Thanks Miguel!

Unless otherwise noted, all images are used with permission from Dreamstime.com. Illegal use and download is not allowed.

According to society’s standards, my Christmas was not what most people would call merry.

I spent most of the day alone. Due to a snowstorm that was unusual for Vancouver, and a power outage, my boyfriend’s arrival was delayed by a day.

But more importantly, his 85-year-old father had been critically ill in the hospital after having a heart attack less than a week before Christmas.

Thankfully, he was released and sent home three days before Christmas. His family couldn’t have received a better gift. I was absolutely thrilled for them.

It had been a week of prayers and emotions enmeshed with thoughts of upcoming holiday celebrations. Christmas dinner was cancelled to give them both some quiet time to recover from their ordeal.

After a less than financially successful year my Christmas spending was drastically reduced. On the bright side, I was spared the shopping frenzy by making one trip to buy my boyfriend’s gift.

On Christmas eve day, I received some mail. A card from my father with a cheque in it, and some gift cards from my stepmother and stepbrother. Yippee! And… a bill from a lawyer for over $400… from services rendered for a business I had closed months earlier. No comment.

Staring out the window at the heaps of snow from yesterday’s snowstorm, I found myself thinking, “What else?” but quickly put a stop to that. I’d caught myself doing that before, realizing I was looking for proof about how bad things could get. Almost inviting more. I knew better… didn’t I?

When I didn’t think about how Christmas was “supposed” to be, things weren’t really THAT bad! In fact, I didn’t feel all that badly – just not enthusiastic. Without that positive motivating force to fill me up, other thoughts tried to drift in.

While staring out my living room window I noticed how beautiful the snow looked. I hadn’t seen that much snow since I’d moved from Ontario eight years ago.

Still with three hours to wait for my boyfriend I decided to go for a walk. Should I take my camera? I decided no.

Manoevering along unshovelled sidewalks and tiptoeing across icy patches was satisfying. Fun, actually.

There were few people out and about. Most cars were covered under piles of snow after the two storms we’d had in the past week.

Then, the first snowman caught my attention. Then another and after almost thirty minutes into my walk, one more snowman. Darn it – no camera! Abruptly, I turned around and headed back with my mind made up.

There were more snowmen on the other side of the street on my way home. I calculated another thirty minutes to get to the camera, thirty more minutes to get back to that third snowman. And then the final thirty minutes back home. Was I crazy? Two hours walking in the snow? I didn’t care. The crazier the idea, the better it sounded.

I felt like a kid again. All that mattered was getting those photographs. I hoped it wouldn’t start raining, or that the snowmen wouldn’t be destroyed by the time I returned. “That would be just my luck wouldn’t it,” that inside voice said. “Shut up,” I told it.

As I rushed home through the snow-covered streets I realized that I had stopped looking for something to define my happiness. I was choosing it for myself and it wasn’t dependent on having the Christmas I thought I should. With camera in hand, my heart sank on the way out again as I saw a headless snowman. Damn kids! Had I noticed that one before?

With the exception of one blister, my efforts were rewarded as you will see by the following photographs and thanks to the residents of Kitsilano. Only one snowman had been destroyed. This is their story…

“When you feel small and weighed down with heavy thoughts, chin up…”

“Don’t let them get you down. Come on inside. With a little warmth, they’ll melt away soon enough.”

“Somewhere there is a party waiting for you.”

“The door is always open and you’re welcome any time.”

“Come on in and take a load off.”

“Who says there can’t be palm trees AND snow? The strong will survive.”

The rest of Christmas day breezed by. I shared turkey with my boyfriend and my landlord. We had a small gift exchange, watched a good movie and found comfort in each others company.

Letting go of the need to fill myself up with pity left space for other, more rewarding experiences.

Yes, the past year had been an intense growing period. But, I knew  more than ever what I wanted less of in my life… and more importantly, what I wanted more of.

Christmas day brought the gift of experience. That is priceless.

I hope you had an inspiring Christmas whatever you did. Perhaps you were enthusiastic, inspired or grumpy. Maybe it was the worst Christmas you’ve ever had, or the best, or the craziest. What stands out about 2008? Write about it, or someone.

If you could write one true sentence to express your thoughts and feelings what would it be? This is your opportunity to write a quote that would be a great addition to The Quote Effect. You just might find that quote buried in your archives or in your comments sections.

There are close to a dozen bloggers already signed up. Please share this around the blogosphere with your buddies and give them a chance to share some words of wisdom. There will be plenty of linking going on. Each week in January I will feature one entry to this project and link back to the blogger who supplies it.

And you don’t want to miss this either! My friend Stacey is having a brainstorming party over at CreateABalance.com and you are invited. She is giving away goody bags to participants.